A Reflection on America’s Crossroads

Outside, the sky hangs heavy with the promise of rain, as Cabanatuan braces for yet another typhoon. And here I am, sipping my morning coffee, lost in thoughts that drift far from home. The American election is over. Kamala Harris has conceded, and Donald Trump—despite the scandals, the courtroom battles, and the noise that followed him like a shadow—has taken back the presidency. As an outsider looking in, I can’t help but feel a sense of dread for what lies ahead. It’s a decision that reflects a country blinded by promises of economic stability, willing to embrace a leader whose flaws are glaring, all in the name of a fleeting sense of prosperity.

In most places, people lean toward the safer option, the lesser evil. But this time, America rejected that instinct, choosing instead a familiar chaos. Perhaps they’ve grown tired of establishment politics and leaders who speak in careful, measured tones but deliver little. Instead, they’ve gambled everything on disruption, casting aside what once passed for good governance in favor of a man who thrives on breaking the norms.

Kamala Harris—now a figure receding into the background of what could have been—stood as a symbol of historic progress. The first woman of color to lead a major party’s ticket, she carried the weight of expectations and the legacy of her predecessor. Yet her rise was hindered by the burdens left behind by Biden, including his unwavering support for Israel during the conflict in Gaza. Critics accused him, and by extension, Harris, of complicity in the violence. The accusations lingered, leaving her campaign shadowed by a moral stain that was not entirely her own.

Back home in the Philippines, we’ve seen our own version of this in Rodrigo Duterte—a leader whose bravado masked a deep-seated cowardice. Duterte presented himself as a strongman, yet his presidency was marred by six years of wastefulness, empty threats, and a hollow display of power that left the nation fractured. Under his rule, we witnessed a culture of violence and a disregard for human rights that tore apart the threads of our society. He promised strength but delivered chaos, creating a legacy that set the bar so low that when Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. ascended to power, even the illusion of competence seemed refreshing by comparison. The tragedy lies in the fact that Marcos only sounded like a great leader—the operative word being “sounded.”

There’s a striking parallel here. Trump, much like Duterte, is hailed by his supporters as a strong leader, someone unafraid to challenge the establishment. Yet this perception masks the deeper issues—a disregard for democratic norms, an appetite for division, and a tendency to prioritize personal power over national unity. His return to power doesn’t speak to a triumph of leadership but to a collective fatigue, a nation so exhausted by broken promises that they’ve chosen disruption over reason.

For many Americans, there’s a sense of nostalgia, a belief that life was “better” under Trump, despite his flaws. They remember a period of economic growth, of brash, unfiltered speeches that felt like a refreshing contrast to the political doublespeak they’ve grown accustomed to. It’s ironic how a leader described as a narcissist, a bully, and a provocateur can evoke such nostalgia. Yet, it’s this very irony that should serve as a warning. The comfort they find in his raw approach hides the chaos that lies beneath—a chaos that threatens to unravel the very cohesion needed for governance.

The media landscape only deepens this divide. Stories are spun and respun, shaped to fit the angle each side wants to hear. The concept of truth feels more fluid than ever, twisting in the wind of public opinion. For those of us observing from the outside, it feels like looking into a fractured mirror, where every angle reflects a different reality. The idea of a “lesser evil” has disappeared, replaced by a polarizing belief that only one side holds the truth. In this fractured state, it’s hard to see where reason fits in.

Trump’s appeal lies in his defiance, his willingness to break the mold. It’s a trait that connects with those who feel left behind, those who see in him a reflection of their own frustrations. Yet this is where the danger lies. Choosing a leader based on the promise of economic stability, while ignoring the broader implications, is a gamble—a risk that could lead to deeper divisions and a fractured future. Americans, in their quest for a strong economy, may have blinded themselves to the warning signs that are all too familiar to those of us who lived through Duterte’s reign.

Kamala Harris, now stepping aside, represents both progress and the limitations of idealism in a world that demands quick fixes. Her vision was drowned out by the noise of discontent, by the cries for something different, something disruptive. The road she leaves behind is one America chose not to take, opting instead for a leader who promises to shake things up, even if it means breaking what’s left of the fragile trust in the system.

As I finish the last sip of my coffee, the rain begins to tap against the window—a reminder that storms, both literal and metaphorical, are inevitable. What happens to a country that rejects the idea of steady governance? When a people, worn down by disappointment, choose chaos over stability, what kind of future do they shape? America’s choice ripples outward, affecting us all in ways we may not yet see. And here, as I sit with my empty cup, I can’t help but feel the weight of that decision—a quiet, unspoken understanding that perhaps, in the end, this choice isn’t just about them. It’s a reflection of the fatigue felt by so many of us, a reminder of the days ahead that are likely darker than they seem.