By Enzo Miguel Ocay Kho
PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY — Last time I wrote about politics in 2022 cost me a lot. My family lost our home to a fire of unknown origin. My relationship with my family was shaken. I almost couldn’t leave the country to pursue my college studies here in the U.S.
So when people ask me, Why do you still care?, I think about how much more it would cost me not to speak.
Politics isn’t just about ideals. And no, I won’t tell you that things are magically going to get better. If anything, history reminds us otherwise.
Philosophers from Hobbes to Nietzsche have long argued that humans are drawn to power—sometimes at the expense of others. Domination isn’t just a flaw in politics; it’s often built into the system.
But even so, I still believe in change. And change doesn’t begin in one sweeping revolution. It happens in the quiet mechanics of everyday decisions. In the local councils. In Congress. In the Senate. In elections like the one we’re facing now.
That’s why it’s worth understanding how change actually happens—and how each of our votes, while not a fix-all, help move those mechanisms in the right direction.
Why does this midterm election matter? Because while presidential races take the spotlight, it’s the midterms that often shape what happens next.
Let’s talk local government. Mayors, governors, and regional officials are the ones who make things real—public health programs, school funding, disaster response, road construction. These leaders decide how national policies are implemented, and in many cases, they innovate to fit local realities. Local government might not be perfect, but it moves faster, and it’s closer to the ground.
Yet, when we elect unqualified or self-serving officials, progress is stalled, and in places like Negros Oriental, we’ve seen exactly how that plays out: Roads that are promised to take only months to finish drag on for years, with detours that disrupt livelihoods, and put a strain on small businesses. Infrastructure projects become photo ops, rather than genuine public service.
Worse, local governance hasn’t just been inefficient, it’s been dangerous. The brutal killing of Gov. Roel Degamo, and the political violence that followed revealed just how fragile our institutions still are. It exposed the reality that in some places, politics remains deeply entangled with personal vendettas, dynastic rule, and power-for-profit governance.
Then there’s both Houses of Congress—the long game. Congressmen and senators don’t just pass laws. They chart the direction of the country for the next generations.
Take the U.S., for example: racial segregation may have been outlawed, but its legacy persists. Policies that once divided black and white communities left behind deeply-entrenched inequalities. The law may have changed, but the impact lingers—and grows.
The Philippines isn’t exempt.
Under former President Duterte, there was a push to rewrite the Constitution—to shift to federalism. Many feared it would weaken checks and balances, and potentially concentrate power in dangerous ways. Thankfully, the Senate blocked it. I would argue that decision saved the country from sliding further into instability.
Today, we face another inflection point.
The possibility of an impeachment trial for Vice President Sara Duterte is looming. At stake is not just one person’s political future, but the integrity of our institutions. The case is set to resume in July. For an impeachment to succeed, 16 out of 24 senators must vote in favor. That’s three-fourths of the chamber. One vote can tip the balance.
So if you think your voice doesn’t matter…think again because even one small voice matters. If you think one legislator will not quite make a difference…think again because he could muster more power than we think.
It’s exhausting and disheartening to see where we are now. I get it. As someone who hopes to work in public service or social impact in the future, it often feels like I’m starting at a disadvantage—inheriting a broken system.
But our silence won’t fix it.
Voting is not a cure-all. But it is a start. And this time, more than ever, we cannot afford to sit this one out.
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Enzo Miguel Ocay Kho is a junior at Princeton University majoring in Sociology, with minors in Urban Studies and Gender & Sexuality Studies. He hails from the town of Mabinay, and completed his basic education at Holy Cross High School and from Silliman University-Senior High School. At the Ivy League university, Enzo was elected president of the Undergraduate Student Government — the first international student to head the council — where he now advocates for student-centered reforms, and lobbies for policy changes at the university level.
