Anna Mae Yu Lamentillo

As I walk through the dense and ever-evolving urban landscape of Metro Manila—one of Southeast Asia’s most linguistically diverse metropolises—I’m met with a contradiction I can’t ignore. This city, teeming with life from every corner of the archipelago and beyond, is home to at least 217 local and international languages. Yet many of these tongues, particularly indigenous ones, are slipping into silence right under our noses.

August is National Language Month — a time meant to honor the diverse linguistic heritage of our nation. And yet, there is something peculiar, even contradictory, about this commemoration: the very institutions that call on us to celebrate language are often the same ones that enforce English as the standard of intelligence, education, and legitimacy. From classrooms to courtrooms, boardrooms to online platforms, one language reigns — not because it’s better, but because it’s powerful.

What is a city? To most, it is buildings, lights, transport systems, and a skyline etched against the sky. But beneath these visible layers lies another, more vital foundation: the life of the mind. Cities today race toward progress—measured in tech start-ups, high-speed trains, vertical gardens, and endless streams of data. But in our pursuit of innovation, we must ask: are we cultivating thinkers or merely consumers? Are we building spaces where souls can grow, or only markets that can expand?