66 years ago, through our maiden issue, The LaSallian began its pursuit of something as old as humanity itself: the search for truth. But truth, once witnessed, must still be carried by those willing to remember and proclaim it.
Throughout this mission, we have crossed the University’s boundaries, bearing witness not only to stories within the Lasallian community, but also those that shaped the trajectory of our country—from resisting Martial Law and covering the People Power Revolution in 1986, to documenting the Trillion Peso March and today’s political and social crises. For a campus publication, stepping into these narratives is no small undertaking.
This wider reach, however, brings two responsibilities into sharper focus: to recognize that campus journalism exists within a larger social reality, and to reckon with the demands of being both student and journalist. It makes us stand uniquely at the intersection of the world we are still learning to understand and the realities existing beyond our campus walls.
In the Philippines, bringing these realities to light can be a matter of life and death. Our country still scores poorly on the World Press Freedom Index, whose proponents consider it as “one of the most dangerous countries in the world for journalists.” This reality has rung a dismal tone as recently on October 12, 2026, when Bicolano journalist Adrian Loterte was gunned down while manning his bakery. Outside journalism, even the rights of students to peacefully practice academic freedom and expression have also come into question.
To be a campus journalist, therefore, is to thread the threats of censorship, harassment, and interference—all while carrying the identity and the demands of our academic lives. Learning ultimately becomes a process that is not limited to the classroom and the laboratory, but one that extends further to the heart of our stories—from the individuals that give life to the University, local communities displaced for the sake of development, and figures in power whose actions demand scrutiny and accountability.
Nevertheless, the decision to wear the ID of the free press alongside the University’s is one we make with absolute intention and an honor we uphold with conviction. Being part of the Lasallian community ourselves gives us the privilege to experience its joys, but more importantly, empathize with its struggles. This shared familiarity ultimately grounds our work, empowering us to report on issues that directly matter to our audience with greater understanding and purpose.
Just recently, we published an article tackling the various enlistment problems encountered during the rollout of Archer’s Hub last trimester, from high traffic during enlistment time to delayed transactions and long queues for face-to-face appointments. In these instances, our role enables us to effectively inform the public about the smaller, multifaceted issues that make up a larger campus problem, and how each student can bear its effects unequally.
Still, reporting on these campus issues also means living through them ourselves. We navigate the same systems, encounter the same setbacks, and often bear the consequences of the very problems we report on. We also encounter challenges in managing personal time and workloads, as long exams for our major subjects are immediately followed by time-sensitive reports on the country’s most pressing issues. By sundown, we write news articles with one hand and academic essays with the other.
The modifier student in the term student journalist, therefore, underscores not only our distinct position and circumstances within the University and broader society, but also the unique perspective we bring to the role: resounding voices of a generation coming of age—one that will inherit the consequences of the issues we bear witness to today, and whose future is being shaped by them.
It remains our hope as The LaSallian that our efforts and commitment to truth and service would not come to naught—that it moves our audience to think critically and stand for what matters.
In a time of social, economic, and political turmoil, Lasallians should continue to engage not only in conversations tackling well-known national issues, but also in the lesser known local problems that more closely affect them and the people they pass by on their way to campus. Among these are the proposed Southern Access Link Expressway, transport strikes against oil price hikes, and the Luzon Economic Corridor—all of which affect the movement of goods, services, and, more importantly, people.
Our duty to inform ultimately goes hand in hand with having a Lasallian community that is more open to narratives beyond its immediate interests, recognizing that those stories have direct consequences on the communities around them.
In the end, we—as campus journalists—are only finite beings drawn toward what we believe to be infinite: stories that survive their tellers. Even as forces beyond our control seek to bury these stories, we remain steadfast in our desire to pursue truth, justice, and memory, and we incite society to do the same—to act on the principles we inscribe in every word we set in print and every story we publish on our website.
After all, what we inherit from those who came before us does not end with them; it becomes ours to interpret, to build upon, and to leave for those who come after.