To write Mindanao is to insist that Mindanao must not be reduced to someone else’s summary
[Welcome remarks of Jeremy ‘Bong’ Eliab, Vice President for Administration at the Ateneo de Davao University (ADDU) on May 21, Day 1 the three-day 3rd Mindanao Book Festival initiated by MindaNews in partnership with ADDU.]
Fr. Karel San Juan, SJ, our University President, sends his warm greetings to all of you. On his behalf, and on behalf of Ateneo de Davao University, I am very happy to welcome you to the Main Program of the 3rd Mindanao Book Festival.
Welcome to Ateneo de Davao. Welcome to the Miguel Pro Learning Commons. And welcome to this gathering of people who still believe, stubbornly and beautifully, that books matter.
That already says something about all of us here. In a time when attention has become very short, when truth often competes with noise, and when many people get their history from forwarded messages and social media captions, here we are, still gathering around books, memory, history, journalism, archives, and public conversation.
That gives me hope.
Let me first thank our partners from MindaNews, the University Archives, and the University Libraries for bringing this festival together. Thank you to our authors, publishers, editors, journalists, historians, teachers, students, religious, civil society partners, human rights advocates, press freedom advocates, and, of course, our dear book lovers.
And to those who came here telling themselves, “I will just look around,” good luck. That is how every book-buying incident begins. We will not judge you. In fact, we will call it cultural investment.
The theme of this year’s festival is “Writing Mindanao, Righting Mindanao.”
It is a beautiful phrase, but it is more than just a clever play on words. It carries a challenge.
To write Mindanao is to insist that Mindanao must not be reduced to someone else’s summary. We know this very well. Mindanao is often described from a distance. Sometimes it is described as conflict. Sometimes as poverty. Sometimes as danger. Sometimes as exotic. Sometimes as a problem to be solved.
But for us, Mindanao is home.
It is not a footnote. It is not merely the setting of someone else’s story. It is not simply a place to be explained by outsiders. Mindanao is memory. Mindanao is struggle. Mindanao is faith. Mindanao is beauty. Mindanao is grief and courage.
Mindanao is many peoples, many languages, many wounds, and many hopes.
And this is why the second word in the theme matters: righting Mindanao.
Because some stories need to be corrected. Some silences need to be broken. Some memories need to be recovered. Some lies need to be confronted. Some voices need to be heard again, especially those pushed to the margins.
This afternoon, we will listen to Dr. Patricio N. Abinales speak on “Mindanao as Historical Center.” I find that phrase very important. It invites us to shift our gaze.
Too often, history is told from the capital, from the center of power, from official documents, from dominant voices. But what happens when Mindanao is no longer treated as the edge of the story? What happens when Mindanao becomes the starting point?
That question is not only academic. It is deeply personal for many of us. Because how Mindanao is remembered affects how Mindanao is treated. How Mindanao is written affects how Mindanao is governed, imagined, judged, and loved.
That is why books matter.
Books are not just things we stack on shelves and promise ourselves we will read “when life becomes less busy,” which, let us be honest, is one of the great myths of adulthood. Books are vessels of memory. They carry voices across time. They help us listen more deeply than headlines allow. They ask us to slow down.
And slowing down is already a radical act today.
We live in a time when falsehood can travel faster than truth. Disinformation not only confuses people. It damages trust. It divides communities. It weakens our ability to speak to one another. It makes people suspicious of facts, institutions, history, and even their neighbors.
That is why this festival matters. It brings together the very communities that help defend truth: writers, journalists, historians, archivists, librarians, teachers, publishers, students, researchers, artists, religious communities, and readers.
The work of truth is never done by one group alone. It is a shared responsibility.
For Ateneo de Davao University, this gathering speaks directly to who we are and who we hope to become. As a university in Mindanao, we cannot be content with simply holding classes and granting degrees. We must also be a place where memory is protected, where public conversation is encouraged, where young people learn to think critically, and where difficult questions can be asked with both courage and care.
A university must be a civic space. It must be a place where people come not only to learn skills, but to become more human, more discerning, more committed to the common good.
This festival is one such space.
Over the next three days, the conversations will move across many important themes: disinformation, access to information, independent publishing, climate justice, community voices, BARMM elections, Marawi, journalism, photography, archives, and historical memory.
At first, these may seem like separate topics. But they are connected by one question: Who gets to tell the story?
That question matters.
When communities tell their own stories, dignity is restored.
When journalists document what others want hidden, accountability becomes possible.
When historians revisit the past honestly, we become less captive to convenient myths.
When independent publishers take risks on local voices, new spaces of imagination open.
When archives preserve memory, the past continues to speak.
When students read deeply, they become harder to fool.
And when book lovers gather, well, democracy gets a little backup.
I also wish to acknowledge MindaNews as it celebrates 25 years of journalism, photography, archives, and public-interest storytelling. Twenty-five years is no small achievement, especially in a time when journalism is under pressure in many ways. Thank you for your courage, patience, and persistence in telling Mindanao’s stories.
To our journalists and press freedom advocates, thank you. A society that does not protect journalists slowly loses its ability to see itself clearly. Press freedom is not a luxury. It is part of the oxygen of democracy.
To our human rights advocates and civil society partners, thank you for reminding us that truth must lead to justice. Memory must lead to accountability. And books, if they are to matter, must bring us back to real people, especially those whose lives are too often ignored.
To our students, I hope you receive this festival as an invitation. Read widely. Ask better questions. Listen to elders. Learn from communities. Be suspicious of easy answers. And please, before you repost anything online, check your sources. That alone may already be a public service.
Today, we also honor Mindanawon writers, both living and departed. Some wrote in difficult times. Some wrote against forgetting. Some wrote from the wounds of war, martial law, displacement, environmental destruction, and injustice. Others wrote of beauty, humor, faith, ordinary life, and hope. Together, they tell us that Mindanao is not one story. It is many stories, and many of them are still waiting to be read.
So as we begin this main program, my hope is simple.
May this festival become more than an event. May it become a meeting place. May conversations continue beyond this room, in classrooms, homes, parishes, libraries, newsrooms, book booths, coffee shops, and communities. May young writers find courage. May readers discover voices they did not know they needed. May difficult truths find hospitable ears.
And may we continue the work of writing Mindanao with honesty, and righting Mindanao with courage.
On behalf of Fr. Karel San Juan, SJ, and Ateneo de Davao University, welcome to the 3rd Mindanao Book Festival.
Daghang salamat. Madayaw. And once again, welcome to Ateneo de Davao University.
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