Originally published in Manila Bulletin   We are racing to teach machines to understand human language. But what if the data we're feeding them represents only a tiny fraction of human expression? Our AI future, often portrayed as a pinnacle of intelligence, risks being culturally impoverished and fundamentally biased if we don't act now. The fight to preserve the world’s endangered languages is not a nostalgic look backward; it is an urgent, forward-looking necessity to build a truly intelligent and equitable technological world. The core problem is a severe data famine. Large language models and AI systems are trained on terabytes of text and speech scraped from the internet. This content is overwhelmingly in English, Mandarin, Spanish, and a handful of other dominant languages. This creates a dangerous feedback loop: AI is built on a narrow linguistic foundation, becomes proficient only in those tongues, and then amplifies their dominance across the digital landscape. The result is a form of technological colonialism. AI that cannot understand the nuanced grammar of an Indigenous language or the cultural concepts embedded within it will inevitably fail—and even harm—the communities that speak it. Imagine a healthcare chatbot missing a vital symptom description because it doesn’t recognize the local dialect, or a legal AI misinterpreting a testimony given in a minority language. This isn't just inefficiency; it's a perpetuation of bias on a massive scale. Conversely, linguistic diversity is a untapped wellspring of intelligence for AI. Each language is a unique repository of human thought, containing distinct ways of classifying the natural world, conceptualizing time, and understanding social relationships. For an AI to be truly robust and creative, it needs exposure to this vast cognitive diversity. The structures found in a language with complex spatial awareness or evidentiality markers (which specify the source of information) could lead to breakthroughs in AI reasoning, making systems more nuanced, context-aware, and less prone to error. Preserving these languages isn’t about saving relics; it’s about preserving the essential data needed to solve future problems we can’t yet anticipate. Therefore, the tech industry must see language preservation not as philanthropy, but as a core strategic imperative. We must challenge tech giants to invest a fraction of their vast resources into language preservation as a non-negotiable part of their AI ethics and development strategy. This means funding large-scale, ethical documentation projects that create high-quality datasets for low-resource languages. It means supporting developers creating apps and digital tools that communities can use to teach and revitalize their languages, turning speakers into active participants. The choice is clear. We can either build a monolingual, monolithic AI that reflects a small slice of humanity, or we can harness the full spectrum of human ingenuity to create technology that is as diverse, creative, and equitable as the people it aims to serve. The future of intelligence depends on the languages we save today. This opinion column is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Manila Bulletin   When Alan Turing imagined artificial intelligence, he didn’t picture a finished adult mind striding out of a lab. He proposed “child machines”—modest systems that learn through experience, guidance, and a bit of luck. It’s a humane idea from the century’s sharpest logician: don’t build a genius; raise one. We’ve tried the opposite. We mint “adult” AIs—pretrained on oceans of text, festooned with benchmark medals—and act shocked when they hallucinate, bluff, or break under pressure. The child-machine lens explains the failure and points to a fix. Children don’t absorb a static library; they learn by trying, erring, and being steered. They practice before they theorize. They grow inside communities with norms and boundaries. Our systems need the same arc. Start with curriculum. Giant pretraining plus a sprinkle of reinforcement is cramming, not education. If we want dependable systems, we need staged syllabi: tasks that progress in difficulty, explicit competence checkpoints, and deliberate practice on failure modes. Make models show their work, state uncertainty, and treat calibration and honesty as core subjects, not electives. Environment matters, too. Kids don’t just read; they act. Put models in tool-rich settings—calculators, search, code, simulated labs—so we judge them by what they can do, not just say. Turing’s instinct was operational: evaluate intelligence by performance, not metaphysics. A model trapped in a chat box is a student who never leaves the library. Teaching must be real teaching, not crowdsourced thumbs. Experts need interfaces to shape habits: targeted lessons, counterexamples, commentary. Think studio critiques, not Yelp stars. The best data might be a small sequence of well-chosen problems with notes from people who actually understand the domain. Parenting is governance. Children test boundaries; so will models. They need rules they can’t negotiate away, audits they can’t dodge, and consequences they can’t ignore: model cards, red-teams, incident reports, kill switches, rate limits, staged deployment. This isn’t about strangling innovation; it’s about making mistakes survivable. The metaphor also resets expectations. Call AIs “children,” not “gods” or “oracles,” and we’ll stop outsourcing judgment to an authority we don’t understand. We’ll also treat error as part of growth—while keeping systems in “safe to fail” roles until they pass real exams. Randomness belongs, but as a means. Play, exploration, and noisy search help avoid brittle habits. The adult move is to turn luck into knowledge: lock in good behavior with proofs where possible and with rigorous tests where not. Policy follows: fund long-horizon curricula for reasoning and safety; reward failure analyses and lesson plans, not just demos; require staged licenses so capability expands only after independent exams—like pilots and physicians. Maintain humility about limits; uncertainty is not panic fuel, it’s a design constraint. The god-machine myth flatters technology but diminishes us. It turns citizens into spectators. Turing offered a better path. Intelligence isn’t unveiled; it’s educated. If we want AI worthy of trust, we should stop pretending to conjure adults—and start raising them. This opinion column is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Manila Bulletin In the midst of the AI revolution, a paradox defines our era: While technology accelerates beyond imagination, much of our workforce is struggling to keep pace. This dissonance is not a failure of individuals, but a collective oversight in how we prepare for the future. If we continue to advance machines without equally investing in human potential, we risk deepening economic divides and squandering the greatest asset any society has—its people. Artificial intelligence is not science fiction. It is here, automating tasks, informing decisions, and reshaping industries. It can draft legal documents, optimize supply chains, analyze medical scans, and generate marketing campaigns. In doing so, it is streamlining operations and unleashing new levels of efficiency. But it is also displacing workers whose roles are increasingly absorbed by algorithms. This is not just a factory-floor phenomenon. White-collar jobs, long considered safe, are now vulnerable to automation’s reach. Some argue that every technological leap in history has ultimately created more jobs than it destroyed. That may be true in the aggregate, but history also tells us that such transitions are rarely smooth or evenly distributed. The workers of today do not have the luxury of waiting for the labor market to adjust in their favor. The transformation is happening now, and they must be equipped for it. That is why upskilling is not a luxury—it is a necessity. It must be woven into the fabric of how we think about employment, education, and economic policy. For governments, this means redesigning public education to emphasize adaptability and digital fluency. For businesses, it means committing to the training of their workforce not as a cost center, but as a strategic advantage. For workers, it means embracing the reality that learning cannot end with a diploma; it must be a continuous, lifelong pursuit. This is not just an economic imperative—it is a moral one. Without action, the divide between those who can leverage AI and those who are left behind will widen. The promise of AI should be shared, not hoarded. We cannot afford a future where technological progress becomes a proxy for social regression. Upskilling offers a path forward. It allows us to reimagine work not as something being lost to machines, but as something being reshaped—and improved—by them. It opens doors to new careers, fosters innovation, and empowers individuals to take part in the defining transformation of our time. The age of AI is not coming. It is already here. The question is whether we will prepare our people for it with the urgency and seriousness it demands. To fail at this is to squander both talent and time. To succeed is to create a society where progress is inclusive, opportunity is expansive, and the future is something we build together. This opinion column is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Medium Hello! My name is Anna Mae Lamentillo , and I am proud to hail from the Philippines, a nation rich in cultural diversity and natural wonders and whose 81 provinces I have visited. As a member of the Karay-a ethnolinguistic group, one of the 182 indigenous groups in our country, I have a deep-rooted appreciation for our heritage and traditions. My journey has been shaped by experiences both at home and abroad, as I pursued my studies in the United States and the United Kingdom, immersing myself in different cultures and perspectives. Over the years, I have worn many hats — as a civil servant, a journalist, and a development worker. My experiences working with organizations such as the UNDP and FAO have exposed me to the harsh realities of natural disasters, such as the devastating impact of Typhoon Haiyan, which claimed the lives of 6,300 individuals. During my time in Tacloban and the surrounding areas, I encountered stories of both resilience and tragedy, such as the heart-wrenching dilemma faced by a young man, a fourth-year student, three months shy of graduation who was studying for his exams with his girlfriend. It was supposed to be the last Christmas they would be dependent on their allowances. They did not know what a tsunami meant and proceeded to do what they planned to do — study. They dreamed of traveling together after college. It was going to be their first time. They never had money to spare before. But in three months, they thought, everything would be all right. They only had to wait a few more months. After all, they had already waited for four years. What he didn’t expect was the fact that the storm [Typhoon Haiyan] would be so strong he would have to choose between saving his girlfriend and her one-year-old niece. For months, he would stare longingly at the sea, at the exact same spot he found his girlfriend, with a piece of galvanized iron that was used for roofing pierced through her stomach. These experiences underscored the importance of education, preparedness, and community resilience in the face of environmental challenges. Motivated by these encounters, I spearheaded a three-pronged strategy to combat climate change and protect our environment. Through innovative platforms like NightOwlGPT , GreenMatch, and Carbon Compass, we are empowering individuals and communities to take proactive steps towards sustainability and resilience. NightOwlGPT leverages the power of AI to bridge language barriers and enable people to ask questions in their local dialects, fostering inclusivity and accessibility to information. Whether through voice input or typing, users receive immediate translations that bridge conversations between diverse languages. Our model can now communicate effectively in Tagalog, Cebuano and Ilokano but we hope to expand to all 170 languages spoken in the country. GreenMatch is an innovative mobile platform designed to bridge the gap between individuals and businesses eager to offset their carbon footprint and the grassroots environmental projects that are vital for our planet’s health. It enables indigenous and local groups to submit grassroots projects and benefit from carbon offsetting, ensuring that those most affected by climate change receive support. Meanwhile, Carbon Compass equips individuals with tools to navigate cities while reducing their carbon footprint, promoting eco-friendly practices and sustainable living. In conclusion, I invite each of you to join hands in our shared journey towards a greener, more sustainable future. Let us work together to protect our planet, uplift our communities, and build a world where every voice is heard and every life is valued. Thank you for your attention and your commitment to positive change. Together, we can make a difference. This opinion piece is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Manila Bulletin More than a decade ago, just a few months before my graduation in 2012, I visited the indigenous people of Tagbanua in Sitio Calauit in Palawan. I was there for a few days and one thing I wondered about is how they were able to survive without electricity, no cellphone signal, and barely enough water. They had a school wherein classrooms were built without a single nail. Interestingly, bamboos and wood were held together by intricately woven knots. The community’s infrastructure were built through gulpi-mano, an indigenous tradition of bayanihan. It is hard to imagine how such communities can survive in this day and age. While we all strive to have the latest technological equipment, indigenous communities are trying to keep their traditional knowledge and practices intact. And we can actually learn a lot from them. In fact, indigenous knowledge can help solve many of our environmental concerns. According to The World Bank, 36 percent of the world’s remaining intact forests are on indigenous peoples’ lands. Moreover, despite making up only five percent of the global population, indigenous peoples are protecting 80 percent of the world’s remaining biodiversity. They care so much about our environment because it is where they live. In Sitio Calauit, one of the boys I talked to said he was among those who would regularly conduct reforestation of mangroves. His parents always told him their survival is dependent on it. According to the United Nations University (UNU), the indigenous peoples’ close relationship with the land has given them valuable information that they are now using to come up with solutions to cope with and adapt to the changes brought about by global warming. They are actively using their traditional knowledge and survival skills to test adaptive responses to climate change. For instance, indigenous peoples in Guyana are moving from their savannah homes to forest areas during droughts and have started planting cassava on moist floodplains too wet for other crops. Even in the aspect of sustainable waste management — for instance, in Ghana, they are utilizing innovative traditional practices like composting organic food waste to contribute to waste management. They also have a system of repurposing materials, such as producing curtain ropes and building bricks from recycled plastics. Moreover, integrating traditional wisdom and new technologies will produce sustainable solutions to both the concerns of indigenous communities and our overall environmental concerns. For example, the use of GPS systems by the Inuit to capture information from hunters, which are then combined with scientific measurements to create maps for use by the community. Another is in Papua New Guinea, where the Hewa people’s knowledge of birds that would not tolerate habitat alteration or shortened fallow cycles was recorded in a way that is useful for conservation purposes. There has been growing interest in indigenous peoples’ knowledge because of their strong connection to our environment. We need their wisdom, experience, and practical know-how to find the right solutions to climate and environmental challenges. The way forward is to employ indigenous innovation. Let us build solutions using traditional wisdom integrated with new technologies. This will further encourage innovative ways of thinking and will also contribute to the protection and preservation of valuable indigenous knowledge, practices, and traditional systems. This opinion piece is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Manila Bulletin As technology continues to progress at an accelerated pace, the digital divide further widens. In fact, the digital divide is becoming the new face of gender inequality. Access to digital technology and ensuring digital literacy, especially among women, indigenous peoples, and other marginalized groups has become more crucial than ever. Artificial Intelligence (AI) is a very promising technology, but it also has the potential to deepen the digital divide. It is very important that we already reverse this now. We must ensure the proper development and use of AI, and that it will help advance our efforts on inclusive development and gender equality. A vital area where we can leverage AI is in education, which is the great equalizer. If we provide the marginalized sectors of society with access to quality learning, they have great chances at succeeding in life. We already have a myriad of living proofs of this. We have already witnessed during the Covid-19 pandemic how technology can help address access to education. AI can further improve this because it has the potential to provide education and improve learning experience. It can reach areas where traditional access to quality education is limited. According to Stockholm-based IRIS Sustainable Development, one of AI’s core strengths is its ability to provide personalized learning, because AI algorithms analyze individual learning patterns and preferences to tailor educational content and methodologies. Then again, before we can provide access to AI, we need to give equitable access to digital tools such as mobile devices and stable internet connection. It is important that we fasttrack these efforts now so we can leverage AI in helping solve inequality. AI can also greatly help in times of disasters and other crises when the most vulnerable remain to be women, children, persons with disabilities, indigenous peoples, and the already marginalized communities. For instance, disaster maps have been helping relief organizations to better target emergency response and governments to allocate resources where it is needed the most. In 2014, IBM Research-Africa helped fight the Ebola in Sierra Leone by implementing a crowdsourcing platform for locals to communicate their experiences with government officials. The system allowed citizens to report Ebola-related issues either through SMS or voice calls that are location specific. Meanwhile, the government was able to keep track of the disease. This program helped pinpoint regions with growing numbers of suspected Ebola cases and ensured the delivery of urgent supplies such as soap and electricity. It also promoted inclusivity as citizens, using mobile technology, were given a channel to communicate directly to the government. AI is now being used to create applications and solutions that can handle increasingly complex problems, many of which can help us not only bridge the digital divide but also create an inclusive society. As International Telecommunication Unit (ITU) Secretary-General Doreen Bogdan-Martin said, “The SDGs are regrettably failing — and AI can help rescue them before it’s too late.” We must embrace AI now and harness it responsibly and ethically, or else, we will continue to be left behind. This opinion piece is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Manila Bulletin I’ve always believed in the potential of artificial intelligence (AI) to support our vision for inclusive and sustainable development. This technology has already started to change the way we do things. With its proper development and use, it can even help address many of the world’s lingering problems, including challenges on advancing inclusive development and gender equality. When we founded Build Initiative, it was our intent to use AI as a force for good by utilizing its potential to break societal divides, allowing even marginalized communities to access new technologies. Recently, we introduced NightOwlGPT , an innovative mobile app at the forefront of AI technology, crafted to transcend language barriers and foster inclusivity across the Philippines. It is currently fluent in Tagalog, Cebuano, and Ilokano. But we will expand its linguistic capabilities to encompass all 170 languages spoken throughout the country. As part of our goal to capitalize on new technologies to promote inclusivity, Build Initiative has forged a partnership with Manila Bulletin to enhance NightOwlGPT ’s coverage of Philippine current events. Leveraging Manila Bulletin’s extensive database of accurate and objective news, NightOwlGPT will now offer users up-to-date information on current events, ensuring that even the most marginalized groups can stay informed and engaged with the latest developments in the country. This also means that Filipinos who are fluent in Tagalog, Cebuano, and Ilokano can now enjoy reading news and their favorite column articles from Manila Bulletin in these three languages. This is a significant milestone in Build Initiative and Manila Bulletin’s shared commitment to democratizing access to information and fostering inclusivity. Ed Bartilad, Manila Bulletin’s Executive Editor, emphasized the importance of this partnership in the news organization’s mission to provide accurate and objective news to its readers and followers worldwide. Now, through NightOwlGPT , their comprehensive news will be accessible to more readers and followers regardless of their language or location. Moreover, by integrating Manila Bulletin’s trusted news data, we are not only enhancing the app’s functionality but also empowering Filipinos with the knowledge they need to make informed decisions. This partnership is a significant step toward bridging the digital divide and ensuring that every Filipino, especially those in marginalized communities, can stay connected and informed. This is just the beginning. Build Initiative is strongly committed to its mission of creating accessible and inclusive futures for all. We will not stop until we see the fruition of our vision of a world where all individuals, regardless of their abilities or background, can thrive in inclusive and barrier-free environments. We will utilize advocacy, education, and strategic collaborations to dismantle obstacles and enhance equal opportunities. We will transform physical and digital landscapes to empower individuals across all spectrums of ability, and advocate for fair practices and expand educational access to ensure inclusivity as a universal norm. This opinion piece is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Manila Bulletin No one knows the land we live on better than indigenous peoples, whose way of life is deeply connected to the earth. Even amidst the rapid development of technology, we can still learn a lot from them. It will certainly serve humanity better if we work together with our indigenous communities, integrating both traditional wisdom and new technologies, or looking back into indigenous knowledge to find sustainable solutions to modern-day challenges. We need to advance “indigenius innovation.” For instance, in terms of disaster risk reduction, local resources and knowledge that have been passed on from generation to generation provide valuable lessons for the creation of disaster risk reduction and management policies. Traditional weather forecasting, such as the observation of the moon, the sun, the stars, animals and insects, prove to be a valuable knowledge in disaster risk reduction. According to a report by the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues (UNPFII), the indigenous inhabitants of Simeulue Island in Indonesia managed to survive the catastrophic Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004 because of their time-tested knowledge that buffaloes run to the hills when a tsunami is coming. Meanwhile, the people who live near the Damodar River in West Bengal, India use markers inscribed on trees and the observation of ants moving their eggs to higher ground as a warning sign of impending floods. Governments can also leverage on indigenous communities’ local networks for information sharing. In agriculture, one of the challenges is water supply. In the United States, industrial farming uses large amounts of water supplies and causes river and stream pollution. In contrast, the agricultural terraces of the Inca limit land usage and facilitate water distribution through canals powered by gravity. In medicine, traditional healing processes, particularly the use of herbal plants have been proven to provide relief to ailments. Here in the Philippines, many Filipinos even those living in the cities use herbal plants like lagundi and guava leaves. Sambong, for instance, is known to help cure coughs and colds. Today, these plants are available in local drug stores in the form of capsules or syrup. We can also integrate traditional wisdom and new technologies to provide sustainable solutions to both the concerns of indigenous communities and our overall environmental concerns. For example, the use of GPS systems by the Inuit to capture information from hunters, which are then combined with scientific measurements to create maps for use by the community. Another is in Papua New Guinea, where the Hewa people’s knowledge of birds that would not tolerate habitat alteration or shortened fallow cycles was recorded in a way that is useful for conservation purposes. But indigenous innovation does not necessarily involve the most advanced technology. Its core is in the deep connection with the environment that allows indigenous peoples to understand how to fully maximize tools and technologies. Our indigenous peoples have lived in communion with our environment, with other living beings in our planet, for many centuries and millennia. And now even with the most advanced technologies, their ways of life prove to be among the most efficient lifestyles we ought to look into so that more generations can still enjoy the beauty and bounties of the Earth. This opinion piece is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Manila Bulletin Indigenous peoples make up only five percent of the global population, and though among the marginalized sectors of society, their traditional knowledge and practices are becoming sources of hope for the world’s complex problems. After centuries of neglect of their needs, abuse of their rights, and forced assimilation, we are gradually looking to our indigenous peoples. Because when things get complicated, we realize we need to go back to the basics. For many years now, we have been grappling with climate change, which has turned into a global crisis that is affecting food and water security, biodiversity, and life itself. The degradation of our forests and decline of ecosystems, which are our own doing in a bid to fast track modernization, is becoming a serious concern as future generations may have to live less of these natural resources. While many of us opted to live in modern cities, our indigenous peoples have lived in communion with nature. As we have become Mother Earth’s parasites, they have been nurturing a mutual relationship with the environment. And when nature unleashes its wrath, it is the indigenous peoples who see the telltale signs because they have been listening to their natural surroundings. In fact, we owe it to indigenous peoples that 80 percent of the world’s remaining biodiversity are protected. Imagine, they are a mere five percent of the population yet they take it upon themselves to protect and preserve most of our natural environment. If not for them, we have long suffocated from our own pollution. Now that we are striving to strike the needed balance to restore the Earth in its most livable state, we certainly have a lot to learn from indigenous peoples’ way of life, their traditional knowledge and practices that they have lovingly preserved amidst the threats of modernization and assimilation. I remember when I visited the Tagbanua in Sitio Calauit in Palawan. I was amazed at how they build their homes and schools using all natural materials such as bamboo, wood and woven knots. One of the boys there told me that they regularly conduct reforestation of mangroves, which is a good protection from flooding and erosion. They care so much about the environment because their survival is dependent on it. In Batanes, a province frequented by typhoons, the Ivatan’s traditional houses are made of limestone and corals with thatched roofs that can withstand strong winds and typhoons. Regenerative agriculture, a farming system that takes into account soil health, is now being embraced as a way to ensure food security without harming the planet. This kind of farming, which includes intercropping and agroforestry, among others, has long been practiced by indigenous peoples. Ultimately, we can learn a lot from indigenous peoples. We can look at how they practice sustainable agriculture, how they build sturdy homes that can stand disasters, how they are able to fulfill their needs without abusing the environment, how they encourage community engagement, how they balance their needs and that of the planet, and how they have kept simple yet meaningful lives all these centuries. This opinion piece is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Manila Bulletin Our archipelagic nation is rich in culture that is as diverse as our islands. It is home to many indigenous communities that also have their own language. In fact, the Philippines has 175 living indigenous languages, according to the Ethnologue, which categorizes these languages based on their level of vitality. Among the 175 that are still living, 20 are “institutional,” those that are used and sustained by institutions beyond the home and community; the 100 that are considered “stable” are not being sustained by formal institutions, but are still the norm in the home and community that children continue to learn and use; while 55 are considered “endangered,” or no longer the norm that children learn and use. There are two languages that are already “extinct.” This means that they are no longer used and no one retains a sense of ethnic identity associated with these languages. I wonder what happened to the culture and traditional knowledge that are associated with those languages. We can only hope that they have been documented enough even just to be part of our history and culture books. If we fail to preserve and promote the 55 endangered languages in our country, it won’t be long before they become extinct as well. There are international conventions related to indigenous language rights that the Philippines has adopted throughout the decades. These can support programs that can give renewed vitality to languages that are already endangered. One of these is the Convention against Discrimination in Education (CDE), which the country adopted in 1964. The CDE is the first legally binding international instrument that recognizes education as a human right. It has a provision that recognizes the rights of national minorities, such as indigenous groups, to have their own education activities, including the use or the teaching of their own language. Another agreement that the Philippines adopted in 1986 is the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), which seeks to protect civil and political rights including freedom from discrimination. One specific provision promotes the rights of ethnic, religious or linguistic minorities “to enjoy their own culture, to profess and practise their own religion, or to use their own language.” The Philippines is also a signatory to the Convention for the Safeguarding of _the Intangible Cultural Heritage (CSICH) in 2006, the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in 2007, and the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD) in 2008. The CSICH aims to safeguard intangible cultural heritage (ICH) mainly by bringing awareness in a local, national and international domain, establishing respect for the practices of the communities, and providing cooperation and assistance on an international level. The Convention states that intangible cultural heritage is manifested through, among others, oral traditions and expressions, including language as a vehicle of the ICH. Meanwhile, the UNDRIP is a landmark agreement that has been instrumental in protecting the rights of indigenous peoples “to live in dignity, to maintain and strengthen their own institutions, cultures and traditions and to pursue their self-determined development, in keeping with their own needs and aspirations.” Lastly, the UNCRPD reaffirms that all persons with all types of disabilities must enjoy all human rights and fundamental freedoms, including the freedom of expression and opinion, which must be supported by state parties through inclusive measures, such as accepting and facilitating the use of sign languages, among others. In line with this, one of the 175 living indigenous languages in the Philippines is the Filipino Sign Language (FSL), which is used as a first language by deaf people of all ages. While it is noteworthy that we have agreed to these conventions, it needs to be emphasized that adopting these international agreements is only our starting point. Equally crucial is honoring our commitments. We must be more proactive in utilizing these agreements to strengthen our programs and policies toward the preservation and promotion of all the living languages in the Philippines, especially those that are already endangered. We must also look into and take part in other international conventions that can be instrumental in our fight to save our languages. This opinion piece is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Apolitical Imagine losing your voice this instant. The ability to communicate with those around you—gone. No more sharing your thoughts, expressing your feelings, or participating in conversations. Suddenly, the words that once flowed effortlessly are trapped inside you, with no way to escape. It’s a terrifying prospect, one that most of us would struggle to imagine. But for millions of people around the world, this scenario is a harsh reality—not because they have physically lost their voice, but because their language is disappearing. As the founder of NightOwlGPT , I’ve spent countless hours grappling with the implications of this silent crisis. Languages are the vessels of our thoughts, emotions, and cultural identities. They are how we express ourselves, connect with others, and pass down knowledge from generation to generation. Yet, according to the 2023 Ethnologue Report, nearly half of the world’s 7,164 living languages are endangered. That’s 3,045 languages at risk of disappearing forever, potentially within the next century. Imagine losing not just your voice, but the collective voice of your community, your ancestors, and the cultural heritage that defines you. Language extinction isn’t just about losing words; it’s about losing entire worldviews, unique perspectives on life, and irreplaceable cultural knowledge. When a language dies, so too do the stories, traditions, and wisdom that have been woven into it over centuries. For the communities that speak these endangered languages, the loss is profound and deeply personal. It’s not just a matter of communication—it’s a matter of identity. The Digital Divide: A Modern Barrier In today’s globalized world, the digital divide exacerbates the problem of language extinction. As technology advances and digital communication becomes the norm, languages that lack digital representation are left behind. This digital divide creates a barrier to participation in the global conversation, further isolating speakers of endangered languages. Without access to digital resources in their native tongues, these communities find themselves excluded from the educational, economic, and social opportunities that the digital age offers. Imagine being unable to use the internet, social media, or modern communication tools because they don’t support your language. For millions of people, this is not a hypothetical scenario—it’s their daily reality. The lack of digital resources in endangered languages means that these communities are often disconnected from the rest of the world, making it even more difficult to preserve their linguistic heritage. The Importance of Preserving Linguistic Diversity Why should we care about preserving endangered languages? After all, isn’t the world becoming increasingly interconnected through global languages like English, Mandarin, or Spanish? While it’s true that these languages are widely spoken, linguistic diversity is vital to the richness of human culture. Each language offers a unique lens through which to view the world, contributing to our collective understanding of life, nature, and society. Languages carry within them the knowledge of ecosystems, medicinal practices, agricultural techniques, and social structures that have been developed over centuries. Indigenous languages, in particular, often contain detailed knowledge of local environments—knowledge that is invaluable not just to the communities that speak these languages, but to humanity as a whole. The loss of these languages means the loss of this knowledge, at a time when we need diverse perspectives to address global challenges like climate change and sustainable development. Moreover, linguistic diversity fosters creativity and innovation. Different languages encourage different ways of thinking, problem-solving, and storytelling. The loss of any language diminishes the creative potential of humanity, making our world a less vibrant and less imaginative place. The Role of Technology in Language Preservation In the face of such a daunting challenge, how can we work to preserve endangered languages? Technology, often seen as a culprit in the erosion of linguistic diversity, can also be a powerful tool for preservation. Digital platforms that support language learning, translation, and cultural exchange can help keep endangered languages alive and relevant in the modern world. This is the driving force behind NightOwlGPT . Our platform uses advanced AI to provide real-time translation and language learning in endangered languages. By offering these services, we help bridge the digital divide, making it possible for speakers of endangered languages to access the same digital resources and opportunities as speakers of more widely spoken languages. These tools not only preserve languages but also empower communities by giving them the ability to communicate and participate in the global digital landscape. Furthermore, technology can facilitate the documentation and archiving of endangered languages. Through audio and video recordings, written texts, and interactive databases, we can create comprehensive records of these languages for future generations. This documentation is crucial for linguistic research, education, and the continued use of these languages in daily life. Empowering Communities Through Language Preservation Ultimately, the preservation of endangered languages is not just about saving words—it’s about empowering communities. When people have the tools to maintain and revitalize their languages, they also have the means to preserve their cultural identity, strengthen their communities, and ensure that their voices are heard in the global conversation. Imagine the pride of a young person learning their ancestral language through an app, connecting with their heritage in a way that previous generations could not. Imagine a community using digital platforms to share their stories, traditions, and knowledge with the world. This is the power of language preservation—it’s about giving people back their voice. Conclusion: A Call to Action So, imagine losing your voice this instant. How would you handle it? For millions of people, this is not a question of imagination but of survival. The loss of a language is the loss of a voice, a culture, and a way of life. It is up to all of us—governments, educators, technologists, and global citizens—to take action. By supporting initiatives that preserve linguistic diversity and bridge the digital divide, we can ensure that every voice is heard, every culture is valued, and every language continues to shape our world. At NightOwlGPT , we believe that losing your voice doesn’t have to be the end of the story. Together, we can write a new chapter—one where every language, every culture, and every person has a place in the global narrative. This opinion piece is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.

Originally published in Manila Bulletin Imagine losing your voice this instant—how would you handle it? The thought of not being able to directly communicate your thoughts could be unbearable. The inability to express yourself in the language that you know could be very frustrating. We could only surmise that a person who is the last living speaker of a native language would feel the same way; or maybe worse, because even in writing no one will understand him. According to the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues (UNPFFI), it is estimated that one indigenous language dies every two weeks. There are approximately 6,700 languages in the world today, but more than 4,000 of these are spoken by indigenous peoples who make up less than six percent of the global population. At the current rate of dying languages, 95 percent of the world’s languages may become extinct or seriously endangered by the end of this century. Most of these are indigenous languages. In the Philippines, there are two languages that are already extinct, which according to the Ethnologue, are no longer used and no one retains a sense of ethnic identity associated with these languages. What is even disheartening is the fact that, when a language dies, a whole system of indigenous knowledge systems and practices ends with it. The UNPFFI emphasizes that beyond being a form of communication, indigenous languages are integral to the identity, worldviews and visions of indigenous peoples. It is crucial to the preservation of their culture and is an expression of self-determination. The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), a landmark agreement that has been instrumental in protecting the rights of indigenous peoples worldwide, emphasizes the value of indigenous language. It recognizes indigenous peoples’ right to revitalize, use, develop and transmit to future generations their languages, oral traditions, writing systems and literatures, as well as to establish their educational systems and media in their own languages and to have access to an education in their own language. The Philippines, a signatory to the UNDRIP, has adopted the Mother Tongue-Based Multilingual Education (MTB-MLE) Program, which uses the mother tongue or the first language as the medium of instruction in primary school. While there are challenges in the implementation, we must strive to finetune the program to determine the necessary adjustments that will make it more successful not only in preserving our languages but also in ensuring that its usage will improve comprehension and literacy, and promote a sense of pride among students. There are several other programs, mostly spearheaded by the Komisyon sa Wikang Filipino (KWF), that seek to revitalize our native languages, such as encouraging the use of indigenous languages in school papers, providing grants to partners to help document indigenous languages, organizing seminars to promote and preserve them. It has also published the Atlas ng mga Wika ng Filipinas, which documents the country’s native languages. It is very important that we document our indigenous languages. However, it is simply not enough if our goal is to prevent them from dying. We must proliferate the use of our languages not only through speech but also in writing. Moreover, in this era of advanced technology, we must already utilize digital tools to actively promote the use of our indigenous languages, because there is no better way to preserve a language than to support its continued practice. We must seek every opportunity to let our voices, our native voices, be heard. This opinion piece is published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share, adapt, and redistribute this content, provided appropriate credit is given to the author and original source.