“The most important lesson of all: we don’t need to be perfect to make a difference”
THE latest election was the 11th I’ve been part of since I started volunteering for PPCRV in 2021.
Eleven elections. That’s a lot of ballots, a lot of waiting in line, a lot of watching, hoping, praying. But more than anything, it’s been a front-row seat to how democracy works in the Philippines—and how much work it still needs.
You see, it’s easy to get frustrated, disillusioned, even cynical.
Every election brings a mix of emotions. You see people shouting over each other, spreading fake news, buying votes, making wild promises.
You also see people working quietly, hoping fiercely, fighting for something better. And in the middle of all that noise and chaos, you learn things that no textbook can teach.
One of the first things I’ve realized is this: we participate to include, not to exclude. That’s the heart of democracy. That’s why we run, vote, speak up—not just for ourselves, but so more people can be part of the conversation. So, more people can be heard. Even the ones we don’t agree with.
Sometimes, it’s tempting to shut people out or shut them down just because they think differently. But if there’s one thing we need to remember, it’s this: we are not the only ones who love this country.
Other people—people with different views, backgrounds, experiences—they love the Philippines too. We just show it in different ways.
That leads me to the second point: real is better than ideal.
We all want a perfect system. We all want honest elections, qualified candidates, mature voters, civil discourse.
But the truth is, we don’t live in a perfect world. We live in this one. Messy, loud, broken in places—but still worth fighting for.
So, while ideals are important, our truth should speak to what’s real, what’s happening right now, in our time, in our situation.
There’s something powerful about being grounded in reality. It doesn’t mean we give up on the dream of a better future. It just means we get our hands dirty.
We do the work. We face hard truths, and we fix what we can. And in doing that, we become more credible, more compassionate, more effective.
I also learned that civility and decency are never out of style.
I know, I know—some people think that being loud or offensive gets you more attention. And maybe it does, for a while. But if you ask me, that’s not the kind of attention we should be after.
Politics isn’t just about being seen. It’s about being good. Not perfect. Just good.
Because at the end of the day, the politics we practice reflects the kind of people we are. And if we’re honest, kind, and decent—especially when it’s hardest—then we’re already doing something right.
That’s where the idea of the “politics of goodness” comes in. I believe in that.
I believe that people, even in politics, can still be good. That we’re capable of choosing the right thing, even when no one is watching. That kindness and compassion are not signs of weakness, but of strength.
The “politics of goodness” is not a slogan. It’s a way of life.
It’s a reminder that public service is about love—yes, love—for country, for people, for the future.
It’s about seeing politics not as a game to be won, but a responsibility to be carried. A duty to build something better, not just for ourselves, but for those who come after us.
I’ve seen that kind of goodness in the people I’ve met along the way. Volunteers who wake up before dawn to set up precincts.
Teachers who guard the vote with all their might. Senior citizens who walk for miles just to cast their vote. Young people who organize forums, educate voters, create fact-checking pages. These are everyday heroes. These are signs of hope.
So yes, our democracy is far from perfect. But that’s no reason to give up. It’s every reason to keep going.
Because every election, no matter how flawed, is another chance to try again. Another shot at doing things better. Another moment to stand for something true, something good.
And maybe that’s the most important lesson of all: we don’t need to be perfect to make a difference. We just need to keep showing up.
And I will. Again, and again. As long as I can.
Because I believe in this country.
Because I believe in goodness.
Because I believe that democracy, even at its messiest, still works—when we work for it.
