Rep Arlene "Kaka" J Bag-ao

Commencement Speaker
School of Law

Maayong buntag sa inyong tanan. May we take a moment to honor and pray for the souls of Rene Clert Baterbonia and Divine Adili, our brothers in the Ateneo community, and their families. (Pause)

As we gather here today, I express my congratulations and appreciation to the faculty, to the proud families and friends who helped them power through law school, and most especially, to our dear graduates.

Today is not just about finishing your course and leaving law school.  It is about becoming advocates for justice and good governance in a country that urgently needs your critical thinking, passion, and hunger for purpose.

And I say that not to burden you, but to remind you of how important this moment is in determining your direction forward.

Let me start with a story of a personal beginning

When I finished law school, I did not have a grand plan.  I did not even have a clear “career path” which my contemporaries meticulously planned for themselves.

What I had, instead, were questions. Why is it that the law is so powerful, and yet so distant from the people who need it most? Why is justice within reach only for people who can afford it?

And so, early on I found myself drawn not to big firms, not to air-conditioned offices, but to communities and peoples organizations.  To farmers.  To fisherfolk.  To Indigenous Peoples.  To women and children who have long been told to wait… or worse, to stay silent.

That was my moment of epiphany which ushered me into development or alternative lawyering. My mission was, and still is, crystal clear: Bring the law closer to the people.

The Laws should be felt in the grounded-on people and their experience, not just in books.

You have spent years studying the law – cases, codals, doctrines. I did too, rigorous years of study.

But let me tell you something: The most important lessons I learned as a lawyer were not in books.

I learned those in the farmlands of Mindanao. In coastal communities in Laguna de Bay fighting for their fishing grounds. In barangay halls, under trees, in conversations with people who have never stepped inside a courtroom.

I remember sitting with a farmer who told me, “Attorney, naa man diay mi katungod.  Wala lang mi kahibalo.”  (“Attorney, we actually have rights.  We just didn’t know.”)

That conversation stayed with me. Because what good is the law if people do not even know it exists for them? Of what use is the legal system if it will not promote and protect the rights of the people?

Walang Maliit, Walang Malayo, Lahat Mahalaga

In Dinagat, we often say: “Walang maliit, walang malayo, lahat mahalaga.”

No case is too small. No community is too far. No person is too insignificant. That is what developmental or alternative lawyering taught me.

A land dispute case in a remote barangay is as important as a high-profile case in the Supreme Court. That the story of indigenous families defending their land matters as much as national policy debates.

At the end of the day, justice is not measured by how big the case is.  It is measured by how deeply it impacts people’s lives.

There are stories that shape you

Let me share with you what that looks like.

I have seen farmers walk for days to attend a hearing.  Because that land is their life. I have worked with indigenous communities who defend their ancestral domain, even when they are threatened, tagged as rebels, and when the odds are against them. I have listened to survivors of trafficking and violence who chose to stand up, not only for themselves, but for others.

And in all this, I realized: The law is not just a profession.  It is a responsibility. You are not just lawyers for clients. You are lawyers for justice.

I did community work before I went to Congress

When I eventually entered public service, I did not leave alternative lawyering behind.

I brought it with me. Because Congress, our legislature, at its best, should be an extension of the communities we serve and work with.

Every bill, every policy, every debate should have clear answers to these questions: Para kanino ito?  Sino ang makikinabang?  Sino ang maiiwan?

Alternative lawyering taught me to always look out for and protect those who are unseen; to make sure that even in the halls of power, their voices are present.

What is the world you are stepping into?

Graduates, let’s be honest with each other. You are entering a profession, at a national juncture, that is complicated.

There will be moments when the law is used to protect the powerful instead of the vulnerable. There will be moments when truth is blurred, when institutions are questioned, when even just showing up for justice would prove to be difficult.

But there will also be moments, many moments, where you have the chance to make a difference.

And that difference does not always have to be grand.

Sometimes, it is as simple as explaining the law to someone who has felt estranged by it.

Sometimes, it is standing beside a client who feels alone.

Sometimes, it is choosing integrity when it is easier not to.

Remember: walang maliit, walang malayo, lahat mahalaga.

To the future lawyers

To those who will soon take the bar, kaya n’yo yan!

But beyond passing the bar, I hope you also ask yourselves: What kind of lawyer do I want to be?

Because the legal profession offers many paths. You can go to corporate law.You can litigate. You can serve in government.

All of these are good choices. But wherever you go, I challenge you to carry this with you.

A commitment to people, to justice, to making the law meaningful.

A difficult truth

Alternative lawyering is not just a career path; it is a mindset. It is the belief that the law must serve everyone, especially those who have the least.

This path is not easy. There will be frustrations. There will be setbacks. There will be moments when you will ask yourself if it is worth it.

But then you will remember the people you empower and you will realize, this is why you chose this.

I hope you can hear the call to courage

No matter where you are situated, you will face choices in your career:

To stay silent or to speak. To go with the flow or to stand firm. To use the law for convenience or for justice.

In those moments, I hope you choose courage. Not because it is easy. But because it is necessary.

As I close let me remind our dear Graduates of Xavier University College of Law:

You are now part of a profession that has the power to shape lives, shape communities, and shape the future of this country.

Use that power well. Go where justice calls for defenders. Stand with those who are unheard.

And never forget:

Walang maliit, walang malayo, lahat mahalaga.

Congratulations! May your journey always be guided by justice, compassion, and courage.

Maraming salamat, at mabuhay kayong lahat.

* * * *  Access the full speech here * * * *