As the wheels of the plane lifted off the tarmac at Surabaya’s Juanda International Airport, carrying me back home to the Philippines, I looked out the window and felt a strange mix of exhaustion, gratitude, and hope. My brief yet deeply immersive experience as a NAMFREL observer in Indonesia’s 1999 general elections had drawn to a close—but I knew its lessons would resonate far beyond the confines of that mission.
What began as an assignment had become a personal pilgrimage.
I had gone to Indonesia expecting to witness a historic moment, and indeed I did. But more than the logistics of vote counting, more than the innovations in polling protocols, what I truly witnessed was the spirit of a people reclaiming their voice. After decades of authoritarian rule, the Indonesian electorate approached the polls not with cynicism but with reverence. That, to me, was the most powerful testament to democracy’s enduring promise.
I returned to the Philippines carrying stories that deserved to be told—not just to policymakers or academics, but to every Filipino who has ever doubted the value of their vote. I wanted them to know that across the sea, our Southeast Asian neighbors had found ways to embrace democratic order with discipline and dignity. If they could do it, so could we.
What I learned in Indonesia wasn’t just about them—it was also a rediscovery of myself. I saw in their faces the same hunger for change that I once felt during our own people power revolution. I saw in their preparations the same dedication our own election volunteers show in the farthest barrios. And I saw in their unity a lesson we still need to relearn: that democracy is not a gift we receive, but a responsibility we renew—every day, every season, every generation.
In those few days spent in Jember, in cramped vans and crowded polling places, with interpreters and local volunteers, I experienced a kind of clarity rarely offered by everyday life. It was the clarity of perspective—of seeing your own country through the lens of another’s struggle.
That is the gift of international observation. It reminds us that democracy is both local and global. It is about the barangay and the kecamatan, but it’s also about the shared human longing for voice and dignity.
As I settled back into my duties at the House of Representatives, I found myself narrating the experience over and over again. Not just to colleagues, but to friends, students, even listeners on the radio. It became part of my mission—to tell this story until others could see, feel, and understand its meaning.
Yes, we have a lot to learn from the Indonesian elections. But more importantly, we have a lot to teach ourselves—about what kind of citizens we want to be, what kind of future we are willing to shape, and what kind of democracy we truly deserve.
Let this not be the end of the story, but the beginning of a deeper reflection. May it inspire in others the same realization it inspired in me: that no democracy, no matter how young or fragile, is beyond redemption. That the quiet, determined voices of ordinary people—be they in Jakarta or Jember, Manila or Butuan—will always matter.
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End of the Essay
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