Strength of losing well

In politics, few moments are as revealing as the moment of defeat.

Days after the 1992 presidential election, Miriam Defensor Santiago called for mass demonstrations across the Philippines to protest what she said was “wholesale electoral fraud.” While earlier tallies had shown Santiago leading the count, former defense minister Fidel V. Ramos overtook her with a marginal lead, eventually winning the presidency. Despite official accounts framing the elections as being relatively clean and peaceful (A 1992 New York Times article described the atmosphere throughout the country as “one of self-congratulation”), Santiago’s allegations that she was “robbed of a rightful victory” became an enduring narrative in Philippine politics.

I was too young to remember what happened then, but I grew up hearing fragments of the story: suspicious blackouts, slow counting, and Santiago’s refusal to concede. Beyond debates about who really won, however, the 1992 controversy may have potentially deprived the country of the unifying effect of an uncontested, peaceful transition—given that it was the first presidential election after People Power.

This is in stark contrast to John McCain’s concession speech to Barack Obama in 2008, which is often regarded as one of the most dignified in modern history. First, McCain acknowledged the historical moment of having the first African American United States president: “This is a historic election, and I recognize the special significance it has for African Americans and for the special pride that must be theirs tonight … Senator Obama has achieved a great thing for himself and for his country. I applaud him for it and offer my sincere sympathy that his grandmother did not live to see this day.”

He reminded America that “the failure is mine, not yours,” and urged his followers to support their new president. He also reminded everyone that what matters most to a politician is not the title but the privilege of serving the country: “I would not be an American worthy of the name, should I regret a fate that has allowed me the extraordinary privilege of serving this country for a half a century. Today, I was a candidate for the highest office in the country I love so much. And tonight, I remain her servant.” McCain’s approval ratings spiked in the aftermath, and he continues to be praised for this speech by Republicans and Democrats alike, even after his passing in 2018.

Concession speeches, when done well, provide narrative closure—a feeling of satisfaction that one gets when one feels that a particular plot line has been resolved. This allows the audience to mentally and emotionally process an outcome, even if they do not necessarily agree with it. In this light, concession speeches do not just shape a candidate’s legacy, they can also have an impact on a country’s democratic culture. A 2012 study in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology found that showing emotional closure from defeat can help reduce polarization in politics. The authors concluded that when political leaders model gracious acceptance, their followers are more likely to do the same. But when leaders challenge the legitimacy of election results, even subtly, it fuels distrust in the system and potential radicalization. It is worth mentioning that this of course does not discount the importance of dissent when there is evidence-based proof of voter fraud.

In the Philippines, where concession speeches are less formalized but equally symbolic, the tone that a losing candidate sets still matters. After the 2022 presidential elections, Leni Robredo’s message to her supporters was a call to carry on the acts of service and generosity that the campaign inspired among the volunteers. “Walang nasayang,” she said. “This is just the beginning.” Rather than dwell on defeat, she redefined the campaign as a movement and announced her plans for the Angat Buhay Foundation. Her speech sparked an outpouring of grief, but also hope. While not all her supporters achieved narrative closure that day, she helped redirect their disappointment into a source of civic energy.

Unfortunately, we live at a time when the majority of voters seem to favor bluster over quiet grace and humility. I want to argue, however, that’s exactly what makes concession speeches so important, especially today. Conceding with grace and dignity is not weakness. It is moral courage for a defeated politician to choose the country’s stability and well-being over his ego. Their speech is not just a form of courtesy. It says a lot about a candidate’s level of emotional intelligence and self-regulation skills, and perhaps more importantly, their commitment to upholding the democratic process.