FLAG @50: A reminder that justice is never abstract. It is always about people. About lives. About dignity.

(Lawyer January Faye L. Risonar-Bello is Executive Judge at the Municipal Trial Courts in Cities in Davao City was among those who delivered responses from the community during the launch of the book, “Frontliners for Human Rights: FLAG of the People @50” held at the Ateneo de Davao University on 22 September 2025

First, allow me to thank the Free Legal Assistance Group for the gift of your book, “Frontliners for Human Rights.” 

It is more than just a book. It is a living testament — to courage, to conviction, and to an unyielding belief in the dignity of every human being.

As I turned its pages, I was moved by many stories. But one page moved me in a very personal way. On page 63, immortalized in a few paragraphs – I found my father’s name – recorded in the narrative of those turbulent years. 

The book recalls how, in May 1985, word spread that he too would be arrested. It notes how he was eventually detained after verifying his name from a list of persons named in the PDA. 

For a reader who never knew the “Davao Three,” theirs might be just another entry in a long history of human rights defenders.

(The “Davao Three” refers to human rights lawyers Laurente Ilagan, Antonio Arellano and the author’s father, Marcos Risonar, who were arrested and detained in May 1985 until the EDSA People Power in February of 1986 – ed)

But for us, his family, it was our life. It meant months of separation. Long nights of fear. The uncertainty of not knowing if he would ever come home. 

To see his name remembered in this book brings back the pain — but it also brings comfort.

Because it affirms that his sacrifices, and those of so many others, were not forgotten.

However, their story remains a cautionary tale of the risk that human rights defenders assume when they take on a herculean task of fighting for the voiceless against a machinery equipped with connections and a wealth of other resources.

In their case, while a Habeas Corpus petition may have been a plausible remedy they could avail of, the foreseeable victory was mooted by a legal maneuver giving technical basis for their continued detention.

For lawyers who were actively practicing their profession, Attys. Ilagan, Arellano and Risonar could have very well succumbed to an existential crisis. Instead, they carried their experience with them, transcending and transforming it into the kind of service they believe their clients needed – be it in private practice (in the case of Atty. Ilagan) or in public service (in the case of Dean Tony and my Dad.)

His legacy has always been my inspiration. It is what led me to the law. And now, as I serve as a member of the bench, I carry that inspiration with me in every decision I make.

At first glance, one might think the path of a judge and the path of a human rights defender are different. But in truth, they are deeply intertwined. For what you defend in the trenches of advocacy is the very same ideal we strive to uphold from the bench — the promise of justice that is equal, inclusive, timely, and fair.

But let me be candid: the work is not easy, and it has become more perilous. Even today, members of the legal profession — judges, lawyers, paralegals, public defenders, and human rights advocates — continue to face harassment, intimidation, and, at times, outright violence. These threats are not abstractions. They remind us that the struggle for human rights is ongoing — that the risks are real. And yet, in the face of these dangers, one must persevere. Because if we allow fear to silence us, injustice triumphs.

Before I joined the bench, I witnessed clients burned by frustration—cases stalled for  years, decisions delayed, justice postponed. Some won in court, yet still felt defeated because institutions failed them.

Now, as a judge, I feel the weight of every decision.

Balancing law, jurisprudence, facts, and conscience is never simple. There are days when everything aligns, when justice seems clear and good seems close. But there are days when they do not. On those days, the struggle is real—and keeping faith, courage, and integrity becomes not just an ideal, but a necessity.

To all of you here—lawyers, defenders, human rights advocates—I offer words of encouragement. Your work is vital. 

You are the lifeblood of access to justice.

However, I also implore my fellow students of the law: let us never forget the limits and responsibilities set by our Canons of Professional Responsibility and Accountability. 

Remember: passion must always walk hand in hand with discipline. Advocacy must always remain within the bounds of ethics. Because by honoring these boundaries, we protect not only our clients, but also the integrity and credibility of the justice system — and of our cause itself.

As FLAG marks its fiftieth year, I extend my warmest congratulations. Fifty years at the frontlines is no small feat. May you continue to be a stronghold of courage, a voice for the voiceless, a beacon in times of darkness — and a reminder that justice is never abstract. It is always about people. About lives. About dignity.

Thank you—and may the next fifty years be filled with even greater strength and hope.