Disinterest at what cost?

I was not interested in politics before. Yes, I was one of those privileged and apolitical. Whenever pressed on with controversial national issues, I would not discourse, I would not argue, and I would not even make the effort to educate myself. So it would have been convenient to stay out of touch, to just live in my ivory tower, and to just maintain the status quo. But at some point, I asked myself, at what cost?

The last six years made me sensible enough to tell whether things are right or wrong, moral or inherently vile. It is not easy to watch the things I’m passionately studying about collapse under the Duterte regime—for my beloved country to be under the rule of man instead of the rule of law, to do away with due process, to trample human rights, and to reject the ruling of an international tribunal, among other things.

I have run out of anger now, but I don’t think I will ever stop grieving. I grieve for the innocent lives lost under the guise of the war on drugs; I grieve for Kian delos Santos, for Chad Booc. I grieve for the countless enforced disappearances. I grieve for the dissenters who were robbed of their liberties.

When are we going to learn and use history to our advantage? When are we going to think larger than ourselves?

Melissa Dionisio,[email protected]