We survive because they leave

Daily, there’s a quiet ritual at airports across the Philippines. A mother hugs her child tightly before walking towards the departure gate. A father gives a last-minute reminder to his wife about tuition fees and groceries. Smiles are forced. Tears are swallowed. And then another Filipino leaves home – not for adventure, not for luxury – but for survival.

We call them modern-day heroes. But have we really treated them as such?

Over 2.5 million Filipinos live and work overseas in countries like Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, United States, Japan, and Europe. They are nurses caring for aging populations, seafarers keeping global trade afloat, engineers building infrastructures, domestic workers tending homes that are not their own. They are everywhere – and yet their absence at home is deeply felt.

Their economic contribution is undeniable. Every year, billions of dollars flow into the Philippines, accounting for nearly a tenth of the country’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP). For 2025, they sent more than $30 billion. Those dollars stabilize the peso, fuel consumption, and keep businesses running. When global crises hit, remittances often remain steady, cushioning the economy from collapse. In many ways, OFWs are the shock absorbers of our economy.

But reducing them to economic statistics diminishes their true sacrifice. Behind every remittance is a cost that cannot be measured in dollars. Birthdays missed. Anniversaries spent alone. Children growing up through video calls. Marriages strained by distance. Some endure exploitation – unpaid wages, confiscated passports, contract substitutions, and even abuse. Many domestic workers live in isolation. Seafarers spend months at sea, separated from family milestones. Nurses work long shifts in foreign hospitals while worrying about aging parents at home.

And yet they persist. They build Filipino communities abroad, celebrate fiestas thousands of miles away, and carry with them a reputation for resilience, competence, and compassion. During global health crises, Filipino nurses and caregivers were praised for their dedication. Filipino seafarers kept supply chains alive when the world shut down. Their labor does not just support Filipino families – it strengthens foreign economies.

So why does recognition at home often feel symbolic rather than structural? Calling OFWs heroes is easy. Ensuring their protection is harder.

True recognition must go beyond ceremonial speeches and airport tarpaulins. It must be reflected in efficient government services, accessible legal assistance, and fast, transparent responses to distress cases. It must mean stronger bilateral labor agreements that genuinely protect workers’ rights. It must mean eliminating bureaucratic inefficiencies that burden migrants before they even leave the country.

More importantly, it must mean transforming remittances into long-term national development. Too often, the money sent home is consumed rather than invested – not out of irresponsibility but out of necessity. Families use it for daily survival: food, rent, tuition, hospital bills. If we truly value OFWs, we must provide financial literacy programs, accessible investment channels, and reintegration pathways that turn hard-earned savings into sustainable livelihoods.

We have hope in the Department of Migrant Workers because of the strong leadership of Secretary Hans Leo Cacdac and Undersecretary Bernard Olalla. I’ve witnessed them working hard for OFWs. And recently, we thank the Bureau of Customs (BOC), which was able to finally save more than 50,000 balikbayan boxes that were abandoned by the consolidators and cargo forwarders who, after receiving fees from thousands of OFWs, did not pay the shipping costs, port charges, and taxes. These companies abused the trust of OFWs who painstakingly saved for the gifts and pasalubongs for their loved ones.

And then comes the uncomfortable question: Why do millions of Filipinos feel compelled to leave in the first place?

Labor export has become a stabilizing economic strategy. But it was never meant to be permanent. Recognition of OFWs must include a serious commitment to job creation at home – competitive wages, industrial development, agricultural modernization, and digital innovation. Migration should be a choice born of ambition, not a necessity born of limited opportunity.

We must also acknowledge the silent emotional toll on families left behind. Children of overseas workers grow with both pride and longing. They benefit from better education and material comfort, yet often struggle with absence. Support systems in schools and communities can help bridge the gap, but no remittance can fully replace presence.

To value OFWs is to ask more of ourselves as a nation. It is to ensure that when they finally return home, they return to opportunity, not uncertainty. It is to guarantee that their years abroad translate into dignity, stability, and security.

OFWs are more than economic lifelines. They are parents who choose distance so that their children can have dreams. They are sons and daughters who trade comfort for responsibility. They are citizens whose labor has quietly sustained a nation. If we continue to rely on their sacrifice, then we must rise to meet it – not just with applause, but with policy. Not just with praise, but with protection. Not only with gratitude, but with genuine reform.

Only then can we say we truly honor our modern-day heroes.

*      *      *

Email: arielnepo.philstar.com