Open the doors of university libraries to the public

I came across a news article on the internet about Solid North Party-list Representative Ching Bernos calling on state universities and colleges (SUCs) to open their libraries to the public. The appeal was made in observance of Library and Information Services Month this November, with the argument that university libraries should become more accessible to communities and serve as partners in addressing the country’s continuing learning crisis. After reading the report, I found myself thinking about something bigger than the announcement itself. What if we made this a national call? What if we challenged every state university and college in the Philippines to reconsider the purpose of its libraries and recognize that the knowledge kept inside these institutions should not be exclusively enjoyed by those who happen to be enrolled in them? What if our university libraries became genuine public spaces where students, teachers, researchers, children, independent writers, cultural workers, and ordinary citizens could come together to read, learn, discover, and engage with knowledge? I believe this is a conversation worth bringing to the national level, particularly in a country where access to books, educational resources, and reliable information remains deeply unequal.

For a long time, university libraries have been regarded as academic spaces primarily intended for students, faculty members, researchers, and institutional personnel. Their doors may be physically open, but their policies, procedures, and institutional culture sometimes communicate that they are not necessarily meant for everyone. There are security protocols, identification requirements, registration procedures, restrictions on borrowing, and other institutional arrangements that can make an ordinary community member feel like an outsider. I understand that university libraries have responsibilities to their academic communities. They must protect their collections, maintain order, preserve resources, and ensure that students have access to materials necessary for their education. However, protecting an institution’s resources should not automatically mean restricting the public’s opportunity to benefit from them. We need to examine the balance between institutional responsibility and public service. After all, state universities and colleges are public institutions supported by public resources. Their libraries are not simply storage facilities for academic requirements. They are repositories of knowledge, culture, history, research, and collective memory. Their existence should also be understood within the broader responsibility of public universities to serve the communities that sustain them.

I find the proposal particularly important because we continue to confront a learning crisis that cannot be addressed by schools alone. We talk about declining reading proficiency, inadequate access to books, the digital divide, misinformation, and the widening educational gap between communities with sufficient resources and those without them. We encourage children to read, ask young people to develop critical thinking, and tell communities to become lifelong learners. Yet, we rarely examine whether the spaces and resources that could support these aspirations are actually accessible. We cannot continuously celebrate the importance of reading while keeping valuable collections within institutional boundaries. We cannot tell people to develop a reading culture when books remain financially inaccessible to many families. For some communities, purchasing a book is already a luxury. For some students, finding a quiet and conducive place to read is a challenge. For independent researchers and cultural workers, accessing specialized references can mean spending money and time they do not necessarily have. University libraries could help address these realities, not by replacing public libraries, but by strengthening an existing network of knowledge and learning spaces.

However, opening university libraries to the public requires more than issuing an administrative memorandum or announcing a new access policy. We must also examine whether our libraries are genuinely prepared to welcome a wider and more diverse reading public. This is where the conversation becomes more complicated and, I believe, more necessary. Are our university libraries ready to accommodate children who want to read picture books? Do they have dedicated sections for young adult readers, contemporary literature, graphic novels, illustrated books, and accessible reading materials? Are there updated collections that reflect the interests and realities of today’s readers? Can a public school teacher visit and find relevant teaching references? Can a young writer consult literary works beyond the prescribed reading lists? Can an ordinary citizen enter a university library and discover books about local history, indigenous knowledge, regional languages, agriculture, science, technology, and the arts? Opening the doors is one thing. Making sure that there is something meaningful for everyone who enters is another.

This is particularly relevant in Iloilo and across Western Visayas, where conversations about reading, literacy, regional languages, and cultural preservation must go beyond occasional book fairs, literary festivals, and reading campaigns. We have universities with established academic libraries, public libraries, school libraries, and independent initiatives that continue to promote reading. We also have a growing community of writers, translators, publishers, teachers, researchers, librarians, and cultural workers who recognize the importance of making books accessible. Yet, we must honestly assess the condition of our existing library spaces and the resources they offer. Are our university libraries prepared to receive readers who are not part of their academic institutions? Are their collections updated enough to respond to the changing needs of the public? Are there books written in Hiligaynon, Kinaray-a, Aklanon, Capiznon, and other Philippine languages? Are our regional literary collections properly organized, catalogued, preserved, and made accessible to researchers and ordinary readers? Do we have sufficient children’s literature that reflects the lives, landscapes, histories, and languages of Western Visayas? These are not minor considerations. They determine whether opening a library becomes a meaningful public service or simply another institutional announcement.

I am particularly concerned about the place of regional literature in this discussion. A university library should not only be a destination for international academic publications, expensive reference books, and established literary classics. It should also be a place where our own stories are valued, preserved, and read. The works of local writers, independent publishers, community historians, translators, and researchers deserve a place in these collections. Our regional languages should not be treated as supplementary materials that occupy a small corner of the library. They are essential to understanding our communities, identities, and histories. In Iloilo, for instance, a public reader should be able to encounter the literary works of Hiligaynon and Kinaray-a writers alongside books from other Philippine regions and countries. A child should be able to discover stories that speak of familiar places, words, traditions, and experiences. A researcher should be able to consult publications documenting the cultural history of Panay and Guimaras. A university library that opens itself to the public must also recognize that knowledge is not produced exclusively within the university. It is also produced in communities, in local languages, in oral histories, in independent publishing initiatives, and in the everyday experiences of ordinary people.

There is also an important opportunity for collaboration. University libraries do not have to accomplish this undertaking alone. They can work with public libraries, local government units, public schools, independent publishers, writers’ organizations, cultural institutions, and community-based reading initiatives. Universities can organize reading clinics, storytelling sessions, book discussions, library orientation programs, research assistance activities, and community reading days. Students undertaking internships or community engagement programs can help facilitate these activities under the supervision of librarians and faculty members. Library and information science students can contribute to community outreach, collection development, and literacy initiatives. Creative writing and language students can organize storytelling and literary appreciation activities. Education students can help develop reading programs for children and young learners. These initiatives can turn university libraries into active partners in community development rather than passive institutions waiting for readers to find their way inside.

At the same time, we must be careful not to romanticize the idea of opening libraries without providing the necessary institutional support. Librarians are already carrying substantial responsibilities. Expanding public access will require additional personnel, operating funds, security arrangements, facilities, technology, and clear guidelines. We cannot simply add another responsibility to librarians and expect them to accommodate an entire community without additional resources. The national government, through the Commission on Higher Education and the leadership of state universities and colleges, must consider providing institutional support for this initiative. Policies should clarify access arrangements, reading privileges, visitor registration, borrowing privileges, operating hours, and the protection of library collections. There should also be mechanisms to evaluate whether these libraries are genuinely reaching their intended communities. Public access should not become an unfunded mandate that places additional pressure on already overstretched library personnel.

More importantly, we must understand that opening a university library is also an invitation to rethink the relationship between the university and the public. For many years, universities have been regarded as institutions that produce knowledge, train professionals, and prepare students for the world of work. These responsibilities remain important, but a public university must also recognize its responsibility to make knowledge accessible beyond its campus. The university should not be an isolated intellectual community surrounded by walls, identification cards, and institutional privileges. It should be a living institution that engages with the people, listens to their needs, and shares the resources entrusted to it. The library is one of the most concrete places where this relationship can begin. A farmer looking for agricultural references, a public school teacher searching for instructional materials, a young person discovering literature, or a senior citizen interested in local history should not automatically feel that the university library is a place where they do not belong.

I also think that opening these libraries will teach universities something about themselves. We may discover that the books we have collected for decades are no longer sufficient for the changing interests of readers. We may realize that our children’s literature collections are limited, that our regional publications are inadequately represented, or that our reading spaces are not designed for people with different needs. We may find that our library policies are unnecessarily restrictive or that our institutional systems make access more difficult than it should be. We may also discover readers and researchers in our communities whom we have never considered part of our academic constituency. These experiences should not be viewed as inconveniences. They should be treated as opportunities to improve our libraries, rethink our collections, and make our institutions more responsive. The public should not simply adjust to the university. The university must also learn to adjust to the public.

There is another issue we should not overlook: opening physical libraries must go hand in hand with improving access to digital resources. University libraries hold subscriptions to academic journals, electronic books, databases, research repositories, and other materials that are often beyond the financial capacity of ordinary readers. Not all these resources can necessarily be made available to non-university users because of licensing agreements and copyright restrictions. Nevertheless, universities can explore which digital collections, institutional repositories, theses, dissertations, local research outputs, and open educational resources can legally be shared with the public. They can also provide public computer stations, basic digital literacy assistance, and orientation on how to identify reliable sources of information. In an age when misinformation spreads faster than carefully researched knowledge, the library must remain an important space for developing informed and critical citizens.

I would also like to see this initiative become an opportunity to strengthen our public libraries rather than compete with them. University libraries and public libraries have different institutional functions, collections, and responsibilities, but they share a common commitment to knowledge and public learning. They should not operate as disconnected institutions. In Iloilo, there is considerable potential for a stronger network involving universities, local government libraries, school libraries, and independent reading initiatives. They can share information about their collections, coordinate reading activities, recommend resources, and develop programs that respond to the needs of different communities. A child who discovers a book through a university library should also be encouraged to visit the public library in their municipality. A teacher who attends a university library workshop should be able to bring that experience back to their school. A local writer whose book enters a university collection should have opportunities to meet readers beyond the campus. This is how we build a reading ecosystem, not through isolated institutional projects but through sustained cooperation.

The proposal of Representative Ching Bernos deserves attention because it brings an important idea into the national conversation. But I hope we do not stop at applauding the announcement or treating it as another timely statement for Library and Information Services Month. The challenge is to turn this appeal into a concrete national policy and a sustained institutional commitment. Every state university and college should examine its existing library policies and determine how it can responsibly extend access to the surrounding communities. There should be a clear public access program, appropriate facilities, inclusive collections, and partnerships with local institutions. Universities should publish their guidelines so that people know when they can visit, what resources they can use, and what services are available to them. We should also encourage universities to document the experiences of their public readers and use these findings to improve their services. Access must be measurable, meaningful, and continuous.

I return to the thought that came to me after reading that news article. What if we made this a national call? What if we stopped treating university libraries as spaces that belong only to those who have the privilege of being admitted into a university? What if we recognized that the books, research, and knowledge accumulated within public institutions could contribute to the education and intellectual development of people who may never become university students? This is not about diminishing the privileges and responsibilities of the academic community. It is about expanding the social value of public education.

I believe that a university library should be one of the most welcoming spaces in a community. It should be a place where a child can discover a new story, where a teacher can find a useful reference, where a young writer can encounter literature, where a researcher can examine local history, and where an ordinary citizen can spend an afternoon learning something new without being made to feel that they do not belong. But before we open the doors, we must also be prepared to welcome the people who will walk through them. We must be ready to invest in better collections, more inclusive reading spaces, updated resources, and stronger public services. We must be willing to listen to readers whose needs may be different from those of our students and faculty members.

The most important measure of a university library is not simply how many books it holds, how many journals it subscribes to, or how impressive its facilities appear in institutional reports. It is also how much knowledge it makes accessible and how many lives it helps enrich. A library becomes truly public not merely because its doors are unlocked, but because the people outside those doors know that they are welcome inside.

This November, as we celebrate Library and Information Services Month, let us move beyond ceremonial messages about the importance of reading. Let us demand more accessible libraries, more inclusive collections, and stronger public engagement. Let us ask our state universities and colleges to open their libraries to the communities they are meant to serve. And let us begin this conversation here in Iloilo and across Western Visayas.

Open the doors. Share the knowledge. Make the university library belong to the people.

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Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and educator at the University of the Philippines Visayas. He teaches in the Division of Professional Education and at UP High School in Iloilo. He currently serves as faculty-in-charge of the UP Visayas Language Program and as secretary of the National Committee on Literary Arts of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA). His poetry has been recognized by the Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature.