Who builds a library?

By Noel Galon de Leon

This is a continuation of my previous column reflecting on my experience at the National Training of Community Librarians of Room to Read’s Partner Children’s Libraries, organized by Aklat Lunduyan of Room to Read and the National Library of the Philippines, held at Seda Capitol Central in Bacolod City from July 21 to 25, 2026.

In my previous column, I reflected on Dr. Blesila P. Velasco’s compelling reminder that every community deserves a library. Her presentation challenged me to see libraries not merely as government facilities but as essential institutions that shape learning, inclusion, and community life. She presented an alarming reality that more than ninety percent of local government units in the Philippines still do not have affiliated public libraries despite the mandate of Republic Act No. 7743. That statistic was difficult to ignore because it represented more than the absence of buildings. It revealed how uneven access to knowledge remains in our country. As the training continued that afternoon, however, I realized that another equally important question demanded our attention. If every community deserves a library, what kind of library should it have?

That question lingered in my mind as Dr. Dolores Carungui, Chief of the References Division of the National Library of the Philippines, began her session on Library Fundamentals: A Review. At first, I expected a highly technical discussion intended mainly for professional librarians. The topics included cataloging, indexing, metadata, collection management, library facilities, and personnel competencies. These are subjects that rarely receive public attention because they happen quietly behind the scenes. Yet as the session unfolded, I realized that these invisible processes are precisely what determine whether a library becomes a living institution or simply another room filled with books. By the end of the afternoon, I found myself rethinking many of my own assumptions about what a library truly is.

Perhaps one of the greatest misconceptions in the Philippines is that we believe a library begins and ends with books. Whenever books are donated to a school or community, photographs immediately appear on social media celebrating the opening of a “library.” Shelves are installed, tables are arranged, and a ribbon-cutting ceremony follows. Everyone goes home believing that another community has become more literate. Months later, many of these same rooms become quiet storage spaces where books slowly collect dust because there is no trained staff, no organized collection, no programming, and no long-term plan for sustainability. We celebrate the visible achievement while overlooking the invisible work that allows a library to remain alive.

Early in the session, Dr. Carungui quoted the International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions, describing a library as “a means of access to information, ideas, and works of imagination.” Among all the concepts discussed that afternoon, the word that stayed with me was access. Books by themselves do not guarantee learning because books that cannot be located, understood, or shared might as well remain hidden. Access requires thoughtful organization, welcoming spaces, skilled librarians, and systems that help every visitor find exactly what they need. A library exists not because books occupy shelves but because people are able to engage with knowledge in meaningful ways. The definition quietly shifted my understanding from ownership to accessibility, from collections to communities.

As someone who has spent many years working in independent publishing, organizing literary festivals, and promoting regional literature, I have often viewed books as the beginning of literacy work. Writers create stories, illustrators give them life, publishers bring them into the world, and readers complete the journey. Listening to Dr. Carungui, I realized that another chapter begins after publication. Once a book enters a library, it becomes part of a carefully managed ecosystem that determines whether future readers will ever discover it. Publishing produces books, but librarians create access to them. Without librarians, countless valuable books may remain physically present yet practically invisible to the very communities they were meant to serve.

The session introduced the technical foundations of library work, including mechanical processing, cataloging, classification, indexing, metadata management, and Integrated Library Management Systems such as Koha. For many people, these may sound like tedious administrative tasks that happen somewhere behind a circulation desk. In reality, they are the infrastructure that allows knowledge to remain organized and accessible across generations. Every accession number, classification code, and catalog record represents an intentional effort to connect readers with information. Librarians spend countless hours performing work that visitors rarely notice because when these systems function well, they become almost invisible. Their success is measured not by attention but by how effortlessly readers can find what they seek.

The discussion also challenged me to reconsider the physical design of libraries. Dr. Carungui explained that a functional library is composed of carefully planned spaces, including registration areas, reference desks, circulation counters, reading sections, activity rooms for children, and staff workspaces. Initially, these sounded like ordinary architectural recommendations. The longer I reflected on them, however, the more I realized that every space communicates a particular philosophy of learning. A quiet reading room respects concentration, while a storytelling corner encourages imagination and interaction. A children’s activity area acknowledges that libraries should welcome curiosity rather than silence it. Even staff workspaces recognize that librarians deserve environments where they can prepare programs, organize collections, and sustain the daily operations that readers rarely witness.

One distinction that particularly resonated with me was Dr. Carungui’s explanation of the difference between library services and library programs. Services include the everyday responsibilities of lending books, answering reference questions, and maintaining reading areas. Programs, on the other hand, actively bring the library into the lives of the community through storytelling sessions, family literacy activities, Braille reading initiatives, digital literacy workshops, volunteer development, and outreach projects. This distinction may seem simple, but it changes how we evaluate libraries. A library should never be judged solely by the number of books on its shelves or the size of its building. It should also be measured by the lives it touches and the communities it continues to inspire. A successful library is one that people remember because of what happened inside it, not merely because of what it contained.

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Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and professor at the University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in the Division of Professional Education and at UP High School in Iloilo. He is also the secretary of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts’ National Committee on Literary Arts.