I come from a country at war: on 29-N vote with conscience

I grew up in a country where war has marked entire generations. A country where many decisions have been made far from the people who have suffered the consequences. Perhaps that is why, when I think about democracy, I think about the responsibility we have, one towards the other, and the value of being able to decide our future without resorting to violence.

On November 29th, Spain will hold general elections. It is a moment to reflect on the society we share and the responsibility we have.

Today it is easy to get carried away by anger, fear, or what our environment says. We need something that today seems increasingly difficult to find: time to think.

I have known the pain of war and I have learned that the consequences of decisions are not always suffered by the people who make them. Often they are suffered by families who have no voice, children who cannot defend themselves, and women who have to sustain life in circumstances they have not chosen. That is why, when I hear about elections, I think about the lives behind every collective decision, about the people who will continue living with their consequences long after the speeches have ended.

Those who have public responsibilities make decisions that affect people they may never meet. And those who participate in a democracy are also part of this responsibility.

For me, voting with conscience means having your own criteria. Being capable of analyzing beyond political speeches, contrasting what we are told, and asking ourselves what consequences the decisions we make might have. We should not confuse promises with facts, nor allow fear to decide for us. It also means looking beyond our own reality and recognizing the suffering of people who live in different circumstances.

I think of the women who fight to live in freedom. Of the children who need an education and a safe environment. Of the elderly who suffer from loneliness and those who have had to leave their country to start over.

Their dignity must be the same dignity we desire for ourselves and for the people we love. Compassion reminds us that behind every decision there are human lives.

We can disagree deeply without ceasing to respect each other. We can defend our convictions without turning the other person into an enemy. I know what it means to grow up without peace. I know what it means to fear tomorrow. And I know the value of finding people who, instead of asking you where you come from or what you have, look you in the eyes and recognize your humanity.

Democracy is much more than an election day. To function, it needs a citizenry that informs itself, that asks questions, that listens, and that is capable of revising its own opinions.

What future do we want for the children growing up in this country today? How would we want to be treated if one day we found ourselves in a vulnerable situation? Do we also think about the people who live in different realities than our own?

There is no single answer. Every person has their convictions and the right to decide with freedom. But I would like us never to lose the capacity to look beyond ourselves.

When election day passes, we will continue sharing streets, schools, and neighborhoods. We will continue to need each other, including those people who think differently.

Governments change, elections pass, and speeches are forgotten. But the consequences of our decisions continue to live on in people.