For him, writing has never been a neutral act; it must be grounded in concrete realities, rooted in the textures of everyday life, and always conscious of its social relevance. Dapat laging nakaapak sa lupa ang pagsusulat, he always reminds his students.
There is a particular kind of institutional irony that only student journalists understand: a publication that exists to question power cannot, without a faculty signature, access its own budget.
Technically, we do have a “choice.”
Pagbutlak, whose Constitution and By-laws were forged through the sacrifices of the journalist-activists of Martial Law and grounded on editorial independence, can operate “adviser-less,” unlike most campus publications. But in practice, in the name of bureaucracy, we wouldn’t have access to basic operational needs—our budget for a printer, camera, or so much as a premium WordPress account to ensure timely on-ground coverage and regular article postings. Access, unfortunately, comes with terms and conditions.
So we tried to find one. Not once, but many times.
Then, with luck or fate, came a relatively better “irony.” A publication determined to be adviser-free meets its match: An adviser-candidate who believes that there shouldn’t be advisers at all.
It was during class when we were discussing with Prof. Ferdinand P. Jarin or “Sir Ferdie” to his students, about national headlines to the state of campus media, when I finally slipped Pagbutlak’s situation (and frustration) with advisership. But I was surprised with what he said in response.
“Ha?” he exclaimed, “Bakit kailangan nyo ng adviser? Dapat naman talaga walang adviser yan!”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He launched an entire unprompted monologue on why student publications are meant to stand on their own. I admitted, just as frankly, that we agreed—but also knew we could not do our best work without access to the tools that, in practice, require one. He understood our predicament. And after the necessary formalities, he said yes—becoming, at last, Pagbutlak’s new adviser.
Later came the onboarding. The Editorial Board gathered in that cramped, humid “office” of ours to meet our adviser. Introductions laced with humor followed until he told us that in his early days, he was among the students who resisted publication advisership in the ’90s—pushing back against structures that threatened editorial independence.
And there, in that stifling box of a room, did we finally get to meet our adviser.
Prof. Jarin—aka the one and only “FPJ ng panitikan” is one of the country’s foremost creative nonfictionists. His magnum opus, Anim Na Sabado ng Beyblade at Iba pang mga sanaysay, has won multiple awards and has even been translated into English and published by by Penguin Random House SEA in 2023 (a must read, but fair warning: don’t read it in public without a tissue).
He’s a three-time Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awardee for Literature, and the 2026 winner of the Gawad Julian Cruz Balmaseda (KWF) for an outstanding Filipino-language dissertation. Add to that, he’s a UP Artist 1 (2021–2023) and Assistant Professor, teaching WIKA 1 and literature courses in UPV.
But before he became a respected and widely recognized writer, he began in campus journalism, as Literary Editor of The Torch of Philippine Normal University–Manila. He started with writing poetry, short stories, and articles, before eventually discovering his forte in creative non-fiction. If you’ve read his works, you know the experience: his honest, unapologetic, and deeply human poetics will have you laughing, then furious, then ugly-crying before you even realize it.
For him, writing has never been a neutral act; it must be grounded in concrete realities, rooted in the textures of everyday life, and always conscious of its social relevance. Dapat laging nakaapak sa lupa ang pagsusulat, he always reminds his students. It should arouse disturbance and discomfort pushing both writer and reader to confront realities that often get overlooked.
Suffice to say, a militant adviser has met a militant publication.
He has seen enough of the system to recognize its limits, and enough of campus journalism to respect its autonomy. So here we are. Compliant, technically. But more importantly, we have someone who understands the strange little contradiction we live in: that we need an adviser, but we also need to keep our autonomy as a militant, student-run publication.
From the Newsroom is where Pagbutlak make sense of its journalism. We provide what’s-in-the-nook look at our newsroom practices, editorial decisions, and challenges.
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