When I was a child, my grandfather used to bring me and my siblings on short walks close to our house. Sometimes he would meet up with old friends, and they would reminisce over stories of yesteryear. One of his friends was a retired priest. He was a chaplain with the US Army during the Normandy Invasion of June 6th 1944.

On that day and in the days following it, men died in their thousands so they could comprehensively destroy an idea: the belief that, in civil society, only the views of the mightiest should prevail, that undesirables be ruthlessly weeded out and all dissent be crushed utterly, to the point of mass, licensed murder.

And yet today, one day after the 80th anniversary of Normandy, on the same continent, millions are sure to vote for people who wish to promote modern versions of that same malignant idea.

The voices of unfreedom are on the rise. We hear them when they call immigrants scum and refugees spongers. We hear them when they threaten public servants and public representatives with violence. We hear them as they pushing their messages of hatred from the internet into the squares and streets of our cities and towns. These voices are seeking to get into elected office. I don’t remember a time in my life where such voices had such a strong platform.

And yet, millions of others will not vote at all today, preferring cynicism over action at the ballot box. They look at democratic politics as messy, and democratic politicians as corrupt. They see the frustration and the disagreements, the bluster, the confusion and the false promises, so tonight they will decide to stay home and watch Netflix.

For me, the messiness and turbulence is the price we pay for our democratic freedoms. Being free means that we allow others to be free too. Anyone can stand to vote and anyone can vote, so disagreements and salesmanship and outrageous promises and hypocrisy will inevitably occur. Freedom looks like this when it’s working correctly. The seeming chaos is a feature of freedom, not a bug.

If I have to choose between the chaotic underwhelm of democratic freedom and promises of simple solutions underwritten by intolerance and violence, I know which option I will always go for.

And that is why I will always fucking vote.