The World Is Burning. So Why Am I Still Voting?

And for what? The future, after all, feels bleak. So why vote?

I first voted in the 2016 presidential elections. I was 19 and full of hope. While I did not get the results I wanted then, the fire inside me remained until the 2022 elections. Then, I joined rallies and campaigned for my candidates of choice on social media. On the eve of the elections, I watched the votes trickle in, my hope dwindling the deeper the night went. By the time the results became final, I declared: "We need an exit plan out of the Philippines. This country feels hopeless."

Since then, every day feels like we discover a new rock bottom. Each time I try to look up, the light seems to fade further away. It often feels like the only way to secure a comfortable future is to opt out and leave. Here, elections feel like a rigged game: politicians are treated like reality stars (and sometimes, they are), a former president is arrested by the International Criminal Court, a vice president is facing impeachment, and a mayor is accused of espionage.

Still, I've decided to vote on May 12. Despite the odds, I will endure the long commute and the hours spent in line under the sun. Even if most of the candidates I support aren't leading in the polls, I'll show up.

Hopefully, I'm not alone in this sentiment, especially among my fellow Millennials and Gen Z who make up 63% of the voting population. Thankfully, I still see my peers passionately campaigning on social media and volunteering for their candidates. Despite everything, we remain hopeful. Voting is one way that we show our hopefulness, and hopefulness is the correct response to a broken world.

The world is burning—recently in ways more literal than not. And if we narrowly focus on the present, we might not be able to see beyond the flames. But if we only take a moment to look back at our histories—both as a nation and as part of a global community—we might be able to see hope glowing in the darkness.

We need not look any further: the fact that I, a woman, get to ask myself whether or not I should cast my vote is a testament to progress. Around a century ago, my ballot wouldn't have existed to begin with, as women had to fight long and hard for our right to vote to be recognized.

Half a century ago, my parents lived under Martial Law. I could only imagine being a young adult then—where would I have drawn hope? Yet, come 1986, people gathered in the streets to fight for our political freedoms.

When asked why he would still vote in the elections, Matteo Prieto, disability support worker, says, "Just because I don't believe in the integrity of the process, does not mean that I’m just gonna take for granted opportunities for me to push forward my choice." To him, we vote because we see where collective hope and action can take us.

Moreover, we vote because there's still so much that needs to be done. Because, while we have gone a long way, this is still not good enough.

As Manuel Angulo, development sector professional, points out, "while the vote cannot be the pinnacle of political participation, there are wins to be made in the legislative and at the local level in the form of candidates that can get us closer to the social transformation we want to see and who will champion change such as universal healthcare, better social protection for the working class, educational reform, and better mass transportation."

Part of honoring the people who fought before us is to continue believing and fighting for a better world. 

"It's better than self-silencing, especially in this day and age," Gershom Mabaquiao, a Social Psychology scholar, shares. To him, resorting to a defeatist attitude is responding exactly how the world wants us to be; it's conceding to the way things are. "We need to vote to say, I am not going down without a fight," Gershom insists.

And fight we must, because there's still so much to do. Our democracy isn't perfect, but it will deteriorate further if we don't actively engage with the mechanisms available to protect it. My vote is one among many—and that's by design. I don't diminish the value of my vote because I am just one person. I'm grateful that no single vote carries more weight than mine, and that together, our voices can make a significant impact.