Would you even try to see us eye to eye?

The defeat of Kamala Harris reminds me of the defeat of Leni Robredo, and why one side's self-appointed moral supremacy is not changing anyone's minds.

Sorry. It’s another essay on the US elections.

More importantly, it’s another essay on the US elections that nobody needs. Especially not from me, a straight male who’s not even from the United States. Admittedly what I know about American politics I have gained from my interest in late night comedy, and my being a lifelong television news geek. This guy who didn’t even vote would lecture you?

I don’t intend this to be a lecture, a cautionary tale from a country that’s gone through this many times before. It’s just that, after watching CBS News’ election night coverage for twelve hours straight—it was oddly fascinating watching Norah O’Donnell’s eyes get droopy as they wanted until half past five to call the Wisconsin race that tipped the scales—I couldn’t help but see parallels between Kamala Harris’ defeat to Donald Trump, and the political fortunes of Leni Robredo.

Leni has been the hope of liberal-leaning Filipinos over the last few years. A lawyer and community organizer, she came into the national political stage when her husband, Jesse Robredo, died in a plane crash. During his career—first as mayor of Naga city, and then as interior secretary—he has been upheld as an example of good governance, something in short supply in the Philippines. Inevitably—considering our tendency to romanticize such things, especially as this was during the presidency of Noynoy Aquino, the son of “the mother of Philippine democracy”, Cory—we expected Leni to continue the legacy.

Leni did run for vice president in 2016, alongside one of Noynoy’s more prominent allies, Mar Roxas. She won. He didn’t. Instead, Rodrigo Duterte was elected president—the former mayor of Davao city had a get-it-done, don’t-give-a-fuck style that appealed to many Filipinos. Some hoped that her presence in government would provide a counterbalance to his gruff style, but she was instead shut out of major policy decisions, and was otherwise left to do her own thing. That would be her anti-poverty program, Angat Buhay, which became a lightning rod for those in civil society disaffected by the then president’s norm-shattering ways.

With the political opposition—really, any voices of perceived dissent—minimized during Duterte’s term, there weren’t many options left to lead the fight in the next presidential elections. Leni eventually yielded to the clamor and ran for president—notably as an independent, to scrub herself of a direct affiliation to her allies. Supporters showed up in their droves, adding roses to their social media avatars and wearing pink whenever appropriate. Her rallies across the country—mostly in the capital—were heavily attended, including a smattering of more relevant celebrities. (Of note to this newsletter ostensibly about music: there’s a song, ”Rosas”, put together by FlipMusic, the production team behind some of the Philippines’ biggest songs, like Sarah Geronimo’s “Tala” and Bini’s “Salamin, Salamin”.) Social media was filled with bird’s eye photos of streets drenched in pink.

Her supporters used those rallies as proof that they are on the right side of history, that they can win this battle. Their opponents were the usual suspects of Philippine politics: celebrities looking to “transition” to public service, and members of long-entrenched political families. The biggest scalp, so to speak, was Bongbong Marcos, the son of the former president Ferdinand Marcos. Nobody said it out loud, but the campaign was the culmination of a years-long project to rehabilitate the Marcos family’s reputation. The elder Marcos, after all, ruled the country with an iron fist for twenty years. His declaration of martial law in 1972, ostensibly to quash the communist threat, ended up being the take-off point for the suppression of basic rights; the arrests, killings and disappearances of prominent critics; and rampant corruption. There’s another, completely different essay here about how Philippine politics unfortunately has been reduced to “Marcos bad, Aquino good”, but to be very brief about it, the battle cry from these younger voters in pink were, pretty much, “we’re not going back.”

The catch was, Bongbong’s pitch was pretty compelling to a lot of Filipinos. Essentially he coasted on his father’s legacy. The term “edifice complex” was inspired directly by the elder Marcos’ tendency to build grandiose projects to provide the illusion of progress. (Well, actually, arguably it’s the tendency of the former First Lady, Imelda Marcos, and her inclination for “the good, the true and the beautiful”.) Some of those projects, to be fair, remain part of the capital’s landscape: the first (and for many years, the only) light rail line, or the Cultural Center of the Philippines, or the many specialist hospitals in Quezon City. It’s those projects, and the rose-tinted impression that life was simpler and much better in the 1970s, that gave Bongbong the image of being able to get things done.

It didn’t hurt that he deftly enlisted Duterte’s daughter, Sara, as his vice president, lending the impression of continuity—although that alliance is definitely breaking down now—and, also, that there was some disillusionment over the lack of “progress” during Noynoy’s six years in office. Sure, he was overly cautious and didn’t get everything right—for one, he tended to treat allies more favorably and way too obviously—but his financial team in particular addressed the country’s outstanding debt issue, providing the groundwork for Duterte’s massive infrastructure program. (Also, I feel he attempted a fundamental cultural change in government, which worked in attracting the best minds from the private sector—but it was never going to be finished in six years.) The catch is, Filipinos almost exclusively equate massive structures with progress. Either that, or the piles of dead bodies from Duterte’s “war on drugs”, now the subject of an investigation from the International Criminal Court despite his best efforts to dodge accountability.

The term “political will” is a loaded one in the Philippines, but it almost always is shorthand for “getting things done”, regardless of the rules that must be followed, or practical and logistical considerations. By that logic, it was inevitable that Bongbong won in 2022, and convincingly: 31 million votes, an actual majority for the first time. Leni’s supporters were obviously disappointed; they believed the large crowds in their rallies actually meant they had it in the bag. (“Rosas” got an extended version in response to the loss.) Leni herself moved on pretty quickly, transforming Angat Buhay into a non-profit organization, still acting as a lightning rod for those disaffected by the mere fact that the last two administrations even existed.

The polarization evident in American politics over the last decade or so has been a feature in Philippine politics for far longer—“Marcos bad, Aquino good” has been going on in various forms for forty years—and really went into hyperdrive either around the time Noynoy pitched himself and his yellow ribbon as a force of good against evil, or around the time Duterte pitched himself and his red fist as a force of much-needed change and upheaval, depending on who you ask. Social media certainly helped—it’s the reporting on misinformation surrounding the latter’s campaign and administration that brought Rappler lots of heat from those in power, and led to Maria Ressa being awarded a Nobel Peace Prize. It’s certainly become shorthand for one to express which side they are on, and by extension, whether they are good people or not. Do you have a yellow ribbon, or a pink rose, on your avatar? Do you have that fist? Whose side are you on, and are you on the right side of history?

One side fights for the values of a “good” government, one that works for the people, that puts the country’s interests ahead of their own. Another side fights for “progress” and “change”, an opportunity for the Philippines to catch up with its neighbors and be a good place to live in. On paper, both should work together, but in the reality I write of, they are fierce rivals. One side’s wishy-washy and preoccupied with trivial matters. The other side’s selfish bastards who are happy with corruption if it benefits them.

You do see the parallels, right?

While it took roughly ten hours for most media outfits to call the race for Donald Trump, the discussion over what went wrong with Kamala Harris’ campaign started early. Did she not have enough time to establish her story and her credentials? Did she hobble herself with her unwillingness to immediately separate from Joe Biden? Did her apparent unpopularity just catch up with her in the end? I remember thinking about the gender gap—they’ve talked about that for weeks—and how she actually underperformed in the demographics she was targeting, the demographics the Democrats thought were theirs. There was talk of how Trump appealed to young men, and to all these other groups, by talking to them about what mattered to them—the economy, in this case—and delivering enough bluster about how he will “fix it”.

There were a lot of factors, for sure, but it felt to me that Trump won—and convincingly, and with pretty much the rest of the government under Republican control—because he managed to send the more compelling message to the people who felt they were not being heard. Not that Kamala didn’t try. She rightly focused on the things Americans took for granted until a few years ago—reproductive rights, for example—and carved a point of difference for herself. Maybe the problem is that it alienated more people than it should? Not that reproductive rights is exclusively a female domain—but it felt like there wasn’t a lot of effort made to explain why it matters to everyone. I mean, I’d say I’m for reproductive rights, but only in the weekend before the election did I see someone frame it in a non-exclusive manner—and Rachel Maddow wasn’t even explicitly making that point, in my view. Not everybody has time to “educate themselves”.

But it’s human nature to be very passionate about things, to the point that it consumes you—and there’s certainly a lot of activism surrounding reproductive rights, for example, and understandably, especially for those to whom it’s a matter of life and death. Now, if you’re a guy who doesn’t know why he should care about it, you would feel cornered by all this talk—and you would, perhaps, rebel against it? And you’d seek out voices that appeal to you, that soothe you, that make you feel seen and heard. And then you’d get really passionate about finally being heard, too. And then everyone digs deeper, and everyone watching on from the fringes—or in the middle—are demanded to take a side, to be “on the right side of history”, or else be spurned as a moral failure for not standing up for their beliefs, or for their beliefs. You know, like, how dare Jon Stewart make fun of the Democrats too.

I’m certain that’s happening now in the immediate aftermath of Kamala’s defeat. Half the population thought they had it in the bag—the vibes were right, right?—and are going through stages of grief. Meanwhile, the other half is just gloating. But the risk is this metastasizing into burning distrust and hatred. You take what you stand for and turn it into everything that you are, and you fail to see the realities that other people have. It certainly has happened here. Leni’s supporters won’t admit it, but they’ve become the very thing they hated about their opponents: a cult of personality. “I am proud to be one of the 15 million,” a post would say, especially whenever the government finds itself in another controversy. “I am not a ‘bobotante’,” another would say. (“Bobotante” is a portmanteau: “bobo” means stupid, “botante” means voter. It tends to be thrown at those who doesn’t subscribe to the “Aquino is good” theory.)

And suddenly everything gets this nasty shade of political. (Sure, I also understand how everything can be connected to politics, but sometimes one has to read the room.) When tropical storm Trami—note, not a typhoon, just a tropical storm—wreaked havoc over such a large part of the Philippines, killing 154 people, the predictable cycle began again. “Where is the government?” one asks, never mind that despite their best preparations, the scale of the storm means many were caught flat-footed. (I’m no apologist for this government, but I’d like to think I understand how logistics can be tricky in a calamity.) “At least Leni is on the ground,” another says, pointing to a viral photo of the former vice president wading through floods in her hometown, which was one of the first badly-hit places. “Can we just pay taxes to Angat Buhay alone instead?” yet another says. When It’s Showtime marked its 15th anniversary by donating money to the foundation, some thanked the show for giving to the “right” organization.

That sense of having the moral high ground doesn’t help at all, too. One of my college classmates has consistently addressed their Duterte-supporting friends on social media. “Come out as a Duterte supporter, and I will tell you that you’re stupid in your face,” they wrote. Try telling people who don’t necessarily see you eye to eye that you’re better just because of the principles you hold, that their inability to see things your way is what’s holding the country back. I know you wouldn’t exactly say those words, but everyone’s entrenched now, and we don’t have a common base of the facts, and social media exaggerates just how many people who are exactly like you are out there. And you keep on saying “block the people who don’t believe in what you believe.” Or worse, “ban people without a college education from voting”. (Or demand they present a tax return.) The defenders of democracy are suddenly the ones espousing anti-democratic beliefs as it suits them.

Again, you see the parallels, right?

The Guardian’s Rafael Behr wrote a striking column before the US elections about how we have come to demand change happens fast when the work takes much longer and is much harder.

The whole apparatus of voting for a candidate who might not satisfy your exact needs, and probably doesn’t embody all the values you hold sacred, but might at least make some half-decent decisions for the country as a whole over the coming years, feels oddly antiquated. It is alien to the click-and-collect spirit of digital commerce.

A democratic election is the antithesis of an Internet transaction. It contains not just an expectation of delayed gratification, but a guarantee of frustration. Compromise, imperfection and disappointment are the necessary price for having a government that tries to balance the complex demands of a variegated society.

Not that your values are wrong, but fighting on that level means understanding that it doesn’t happen instantly. I mean, Noynoy tried. (And I say this as a person who’s extremely critical of him.) It’s no surprise those who want to see results—and, again, in the Philippines, infrastructure means results—have the upper hand, because they can say they have something tangible, and fast. And since we’re all entrenched and angry and will not take no for an answer…

Again, I’m perhaps the last person you’d want to hear babble on about this. Things aren’t much better where I am. And if you’re reading this from the United States and are distraught, I must clarify I am not minimizing your pain. I mean, I, too, am anxious. This is no longer Donald Trump the bumbling idiot, but Donald Trump the guy who went beyond telegraphing his fascist inclinations. What I know of Project 2025 came from Last Week Tonight, and even in that format, it’s horrific. And as someone who lives in the Philippines—and bearing the brunt of Chinese territorial ambitions—there are scenarios at the very back of my head that I can’t even begin to comprehend, ones that can’t be fully covered by “transactional foreign policy”.

It’s been almost a week since those election night results, and you’ve probably had more than enough unsolicited advice. I won’t offer anything new. Grieve if you must. It’s valid. Take peace in the fact that you’re not alone. It’s perfectly human to feel that way.

And then, regroup—but when you do, maybe take a little bit more time to level with the people you need on your side to fight the fight. And I don’t just mean the people you already know are on your side—you need to reach out to the people that see things differently. You need to make the effort to see things their way. You should not vilify them and dismiss them and ostracize them just because they’re different from you.

And don’t do it just because you think you’re morally superior, that they have to be “educated” or “saved”. You have to mean it. Trust me. I’ve been on the side of the impassioned and the unseen. We can see through you and your performative “empathy”.

Simply put, be human—but remember that “they” are human, too.

The morning after election day, historian Jon Meacham said something on Morning Joe that I thought was a good, sobering reminder.

I think we take a deep breath. Citizenship itself is about the hard work … [about] being patient in tribulation. There are a lot of people waking up this morning who feel the world is ending. There are a lot of people waking up who think, ‘okay, we’re back on the right track.’ The point of America is that we should all be able to have those different views but move forward together, and … that’s what democracy is: disagreeing and dissenting within a common vernacular.

Perhaps we in the Philippines need to hear that, too. But to be honest, I feel we’re too deep down the rabbit hole. It’s easier to vilify those who dare not subscribe to our exact mindset, after all. Less effort. To be honest, all this time I have been afraid that I’ll just be seen as an apologist, and then be scorned. Instant gratification, moral supremacy… well, me, I’ll be a little sad to see four more years of the same old jokes on late night. Maybe if we can have something as biting on both sides as that Saturday Night Live sketch with the Tim Kaine cameo. Come to think of it, wasn’t this prescient?