Opinion by Sariah Sherida R. Tampac

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."

If there is anything that has encapsulated how I feel about this elections, Charles Dickens spoke for me and mourned with my soul.

When the news of Bongbong Marcos running for office ravaged the nation even during the 2016 elections for the office of the Vice President, I had nothing in mind but the atrocities my father used to tell me that they painstakingly fought against in the streets, with the youth of his generation. The suppressed freedom of speech; the state-controlled media that painted a flawless Philippines, while blood was spilt in its outskirts; the opposition who would vanish into thin air and who would later on be found brutally murdered and some, mutilated, all because they did not choose to stay silent and screamed the emperor has no clothes.

The news of his defeat brought me hope that the people has not forgotten the dark ages of our history, for what kind of a fool forgets and makes a mockery of the thousands of lives taken, only for one person (and his family) to remain in power, to keep his pockets full, and to secure his self-interests above all else?

Six years after his defeat, the son of this infamous strongman ran again, but this time, for the highest position of the land. The shadows of the past came haunting its victims again. The younger generation, who may not have been alive during this unfortunate era but learned their history well, also prayed for hope that the same would not stain the days of their lives, the way their forefathers witnessed endless nights when even a flicker of light is a scarcity.

But the nation was divided as while there are those who suffered, there were also those who basked in the sun during this period. They insist it was a glorious era; there was peace and order, and those who were detained and arrested deserved it anyway because they put out resistance for naught. There were some who were too young to be there, but believed the information they have seen on their screens, disseminated on social media, most especially on Tiktok, Facebook, and Youtube. Without verifying what is the truth and what is not, the martial law era suddenly became desirable and worth repeating.

For some, it was the best of times.

But I cannot, in my conscience, concede and agree with this horrendous majority. To my dying day, the return for power of a Marcos, and the millions who put him there, echo this chilling truth: it is the worst of times.

And now, we ask, what then? What happens when a person convicted of tax evasion, a person who continues to benefit from the billions of ill-gotten wealth pilfered by his father, a person who lied about his degree or lack thereof, and who refused to attend debates unless there is a clear bias in his favor, becomes a president-elect? And at a huge margin at that? Do we concede and give up? Do we put down our bolos and declare the revolution is over?

We stay awake. We put up a fight when needed. We continue to guard our rights, lest it be trampled down again before our very eyes. We will not let the downtrodden be dragged down deeper to a pit of misery again.

Amidst this blinding darkness, be the light.