PHILIPPINES

The Case for Liberal Hope in an Age of Disillusionment

There is an invisible epidemic plaguing the global liberal movement today, one that has outlasted even the coronavirus. Liberals are succumbing to hopelessness, and for understandable reasons. Liberalism is under heavy siege on many fronts, with its promise of progress through individual freedom, human rights, and free markets scorned by the Left and the Right across the globe. It is easy to forget that just thirty years ago, liberal democracy seemed triumphant. The so-called ‘end of history’ felt imminent. But that moment has long passed. Confusion, fear, and frustration have taken their place.

The Philippines offers a telling example. Its liberal-democratic revolution in the 1980s culminated, decades later, in the election of the ousted dictator’s son in 2022. Many disillusioned liberals withdrew from a political reality that seemed to betray the EDSA Revolution’s ideals. They ask: Has the liberal project failed?

But liberals must confront this painful question or risk giving in to despair and its sibling, apathy. In this climate, a hopeful liberalism is not merely optional but a necessary response. Yet this hope, often misunderstood, requires clarification.

The writings of the late liberal philosopher Isaiah Berlin challenge this misconception. He warned against the illusion that history inevitably bends toward liberal democracy. Unlike ideologies such as Marxism, which claims a linear and inexorable path to a utopian society, there is no “grand historical march to liberty.” 

Such determinism, seductive as it may be, is ahistorical. It forgets the bloodshed that attended the birth—and often, the destruction—of liberty, along with the countless tragedies that befell liberals who fought for it. For those raised in more peaceful eras, liberalism can appear permanent. But the legacies of two World Wars, anti-colonial struggles, and the global resurgence of authoritarianism remind us that freedom is never guaranteed. It must be earned and sustained, often at great cost.

Liberal hope does not rely on wishful expectations of historical inevitability. It gives no assurance that liberal democracy will always prevail. Berlin’s brand of realistic optimism, informed by the lessons of history, offers a valuable lens to view the past and present.

For three centuries, the Philippines was a colony of the Spanish Crown. Its name, Las Islas Filipinas, bears the name of King Philip II, under whose reign formal colonization of the islands began. Today, the idea of having a king feels odd, even absurd, to the ordinary Filipino.

That we now find monarchy so distant is itself a testament to how deeply liberal ideals have shaped our collective psyche. Its faint echo survives only in pop culture, reduced to catchy lyrics, toy crowns, and pageantry. But this transformation was never inevitable. It was built on countless struggles, often marked by failure, by people willing to risk everything for freedom. In the twilight of Spanish rule in 1898, the Philippine independence movement was met not with freedom, but with further brutal subjugation—first under the United States, then under Japan. Groaning under extended colonial rule, the country would spend nearly fifty more years persuading and resisting its colonizers before finally gaining formal autonomy.

José Rizal and other Filipino liberal nationalists did not experience the level of freedom many enjoy today. Their cause promised death more than liberation. And yet, their writings and actions contained hope because they saw something. A possibility. And that was enough to keep them moving.

The liberal hope that animated past generations looked not toward destiny, but toward potentiality, a belief that a better order was within reach, if people were willing to act. Hope, in the liberal sense, accepts the likelihood of setbacks but also insists on the possibility of success. After the surprising victories of liberal candidates in the 2025 Philippine midterm elections, it remains to be seen whether they can form a formidable force in 2028—a race already shaping up to be a battle between two entrenched dynasties. As in Rizal’s time, today’s liberals face the same uncertainty about whether their efforts will succeed.

Revisiting history offers a powerful antidote to both despair and overconfidence. Berlin was firm that liberalism is not an eschatology. Freedom does not always triumph over tyranny, cooperation does not always overcome autarky, and reason does not always dispel superstition. History promises neither finality nor utopia. In every generation, liberty must be articulated, re-articulated, and defended. Every era brings challenges—some novel, many recurring—and liberals have always had to adapt, confront, and experiment.

To this end, liberal hope is not an invitation to passivity, but a call to bold action. Liberals at all levels of society have a role to play, whether in their communities, in the halls of power, or on the streets. Our current political order, fragile as it is, continues to offer avenues for reform.

The future will not always be kind to our ideals. But as Berlin reminds us, we are not mere pawns of historical forces. The light of liberty remains within us, in the choices we make today. It is those choices that will determine how brightly it shines.

Cesar Ilao III is Research and Communications Consultant at the Foundation for Economic Freedom in Quezon City.