“I hope that I use my time wisely as a new retiree,” said M., when asked what her hope was for 2025. She spent her best years as a guidance counselor at a private school in Quezon City. “I hope to practice mindfulness by decluttering my space, gardening, and journaling.” In the light of the myriad of mental health sufferers among our students, her comment betrays the pressure counselors are under as well.
M., however, belongs to a generation whose hope extends to the community. She quickly added: “On the macro level: I yearn for the election of honest, competent, service-oriented government officials. And that we Filipinos remember and honor the legacy of our heroic forebears, taking pride in our identity.”
Recent literature in hope studies indicates that most people “have become accustomed to dreaming big at the individual scale. On the collective level, however, our hope is failing us.” As interest rates go down and election season begins, people’s hopes are palpably high. The promise of money, fame, and self-realization will be fulfilled once more. But what about collective hope? Are we seeing a brighter future for our communities and nation as a whole?
I asked two political scientists if they had high hopes for the coming year. Hansley Juliano, who is currently working for his PhD from Nagoya University, said: “Personally, my hope lies in my engagement with my students and the organizations and advocates who still persist in fighting for our rights and necessary policies even in hostile situations. Even the hardest and most hostile times were made lighter by those who stood by what they believe in, sometimes at great cost to themselves and those they care about — mostly because they are trying to protect the ones they love anyway.”
I didn’t ask any more for the gory details of the rights and policies the students were fighting for nor what price they had to pay for protecting their loved ones. This means, however, that hope is not the optimism that things will turn out fine. One has to dig deep to find hope through concrete action.
People run away from hope because it is dangerous. It requires a form of dissent which is not rebelliousness. It is not rebellious because it is realistic. It demands an honest-to-goodness look at the situation and an acknowledgment of facts. It is nonetheless dissenting, for one does not simply accept the things as they are and he or she becomes open to new solutions. Unlike optimism, hope exercises intellectual humility of not shaping reality as we see fit. As they say, “If they say there will be mass deportations in the US, we better believe them.”
Arj Aguirre, assistant professor at Ateneo de Manila University, said: “I am hoping that our midterms will be peaceful and less violent…. In this election, I am excited to see how our opposition is trying to survive despite being out of power for many years. This is, to me, is an indication, that we are indeed maturing. As you can see, some politicians are sticking to their party. They stay despite the temptation of party switching just to win.”
Essentially a warning that things will get worse before they get better, the midterm elections will most likely be violent. People buzz about “foreign malign influence.” The opposition, while not completely dead, is in survival mode. Does this mean that democracy itself is in survival mode? Evidences from the US, Europe, and Southeast Asia force us conclude this. One gleans a hint of spiritedness in Aguirre’s words, though, perhaps fueled by inside information of what is going on in the opposition.
Both Juliano and Aguirre observe that enough political actors are doubling down, sticking to their convictions, despite the great convenience of becoming a political opportunist. We can share their stories more than the dominant narrative that the political landscape is infested by turncoats and butterflies.
Furthermore, a physician and a Philippine Coast Guard Auxiliary Officer, wishes “for stability in the West Philippine Sea (WPS) and that the WPS be protected from marine destruction.”
Father Ted Gonzales, president of the Center for Family Ministries, emphasizes: “Give jobs, not ayuda…. Identify corruption and codependency as another form of sin to the nation. Invest in quality and critical education instead of making people remain ignorant. Make education and healthy lifestyle with integrity a priority as a national value.”
Both involved in active duty, their hope is having a sense of agency. Hope is acting with purpose and intentionality. Even more crucially, it is making sure actions align with one’s purpose. A nation of codependents and without agency will be weak, uncreative, and not ready for battle.
Crucial in hope is the capacity to do something about the situation. Hope is the capacity to ask the question: Now that nothing can be done, what can be done?
Even if the enemies are literally hidden in plain sight and that government continues to sabotage its development plan, what can still be done? “Make good coffee!” A slogan that was born during Occupy Wall Street, it is a code for inviting people for a serious conversation. In isolation, the situation will seem bleak; with true comrades, anything is possible.
One’s allies may not even be alive. As veteran journalist Howie Severino says: “Just before every new year we remember Jose Rizal on December 30. Sharing a nation with such a man reminds me that we’re a work in progress to something much better.”
Finally, for Jesuit Father General, Arturo Sosa, in 2025 we are called for “a more interior knowledge of Jesus Christ.” This year we can go beyond piety and truly discover Christ in the living and breathing stories of our countrymen here and abroad.
The hope of 2025 lies in our capacity to be galvanized by the call of our times. We just need to find the courage to refused to be engulfed by the darkness and say yes to the Yes! – Rappler.com
Jovino G. Miroy teaches philosophy at Ateneo de Manila University. In 2018, he directed “Ang Apologia ni Sokrates salin ni R. Ferriols,” featuring Ron Capinding.
