Why some libraries in Iloilo are failing children?

By Noel Galon de Leon

In the digital age where information flows ceaselessly and literacy is supposed to be more accessible than ever, one cannot help but question: what are public libraries for if they cannot even fulfill their most basic role, to cultivate the habit of reading, especially among children? This question becomes glaringly relevant every July, particularly during the observance of National Children’s Book Day (NCBD) in the Philippines, a date that many libraries, sadly, continue to neglect. In Iloilo, a city rich with cultural heritage and literary traditions, the silence of many libraries during this important occasion is both troubling and disappointing.

The observance of National Children’s Book Day, celebrated every third Tuesday of July, traces its roots back to the publication of Dr. José Rizal’s “The Monkey and the Turtle” in 1889, a significant milestone as it marks the birth of Filipino children’s literature. This day is meant to remind us not only of our literary history but also of the vital role that stories play in shaping the values, imagination, and critical thinking of young minds. It is a day that emphasizes the power of books to nurture future generations, to plant the seeds of curiosity, empathy, and intellect in children who will later become stewards of our communities.

Although there is no Republic Act or Presidential Proclamation legally mandating the celebration of NCBD, this absence of legal compulsion does not diminish its importance. Cultural observances often begin as communal initiatives, driven not by laws but by conscience and responsibility. The Philippine Board on Books for Young People (PBBY), together with institutions like the National Book Development Board (NBDB) and the National Library of the Philippines, has long championed this cause. The question, then, is not whether libraries must celebrate because of the law, but whether they will honor their moral and educational duty to the communities they serve.

Libraries exist not merely as storehouses of books but as active, dynamic spaces for learning, engagement, and cultural preservation. A library that does not celebrate NCBD is, in effect, turning its back on this very purpose. What are libraries for, if not to encourage reading among the youth? Infrastructure, bookshelves, and even an impressive collection are hollow achievements without proactive programming that reaches out to the public, especially children.

In Iloilo, it is disheartening to observe the silence of many public libraries during this annual celebration. Iloilo, a city that boasts of its rich literary traditions, home to writers, scholars, and cultural workers, should be leading the charge in championing children’s literacy. Yet, in many institutions, NCBD passes unnoticed, unacknowledged, uncelebrated. This apathy reflects a deeper malaise, a failure of imagination, a failure of commitment, and perhaps, a failure of leadership.

One cannot help but question the motivations of those in charge of these institutions. Is the absence of a law truly an excuse for inaction? Or is it a convenient alibi for those who have grown too comfortable in the routine of library work, forgetting the higher calling of librarianship, to inspire, to educate, and to engage?

Failing to celebrate NCBD is more than just missing an event on the calendar; it reflects a larger disregard for the promotion of reading culture. Children today are bombarded by distractions, gadgets, social media, fleeting entertainment. Books struggle for relevance in their lives. In such an environment, libraries must fight harder, not retreat quietly. They must be creative, proactive, and persistent in carving out spaces where stories still matter.

Libraries are not merely physical spaces; they are programmatic institutions. Without programs that bring books to life, without efforts to connect readers to stories, a library becomes nothing more than a warehouse. Infrastructure, while important, is secondary to the human efforts that animate these spaces. No amount of modern architecture or state-of-the-art catalog systems can compensate for a lack of heart, vision, and engagement from those who run these facilities.

Librarians must remember that they are not mere custodians of books, they are cultural workers and educators. They hold a responsibility not only to preserve but to proactively share the wealth of literature, especially with those who need it most, our children. Programs like NCBD provide opportunities to do this, through storytelling sessions, book drives, reading competitions, workshops for young writers and illustrators, and partnerships with schools and local artists. The absence of such initiatives is a failure of imagination and leadership.

What is needed now is a rethinking of the role of libraries in Iloilo and beyond. Librarians must be aware of important dates like NCBD, not as bureaucratic obligations but as opportunities to reaffirm their relevance in the community. They must show initiative, creativity, and courage in organizing programs that draw people in, ignite curiosity, and rekindle the joy of reading.

It is time to question the integrity of leadership within libraries that remain indifferent to these opportunities. Are they content simply to maintain the status quo, to clock in and out, to let their institutions languish in obscurity? Or will they rise to the challenge, recognize the immense potential they hold, and fulfill their duty to the next generation?

In the end, the purpose of a library is not found in its walls or shelves, but in its programs, its people, and its impact on the community. To neglect NCBD is to neglect children, stories, and the very reason libraries exist. The future of reading depends not on infrastructure but on the commitment and creativity of those entrusted with these sacred spaces of learning.

Until libraries in Iloilo and elsewhere find the courage to embrace this truth, we must continue to ask, have they forgotten their reason for being? Are they still serving the people, especially our children, or have they become hollow institutions that serve only their own complacency?