The great Filipino dream

I remember writing about the great Filipino dream of going abroad a couple of decades ago based on a study made by market research firm Nielsen Philippines for Procter and Gamble.

The study documented the desire of young Filipinos to follow the footsteps of their OFW parents to work abroad. They were convinced that was the best move for a better life.

Last week, an OCTA Research survey revealed that 57 percent of adult Filipinos are willing to migrate. The primary driver is the same as it was two decades ago: economic. They want better job opportunities (67 percent), higher wages (61 percent) and improved quality of life (58 percent).

The findings aren’t new. But there is an updated twist. OCTA noted that Filipinos now view migration as a pathway to upward mobility. It is a long-term strategy for career development and long-term family well-being, rather than just a response to hardship.

Historically, Filipinos often migrated as a survival mechanism to escape poverty or domestic instability. The OCTA study also found out that political instability and security issues are new motivations but not as important as the improvement of personal lives which they deemed difficult to achieve at home.

Today, the intensity of wanting to migrate is fueled by widespread frustration with stagnant local wages and poor career progression. As OCTA Research concluded, leaving has effectively become the “unstated life plan” for the majority of the country’s young workforce.

Here are some takeaways from the OCTA survey:

The “Brain Drain” is getting younger: The willingness to migrate is highest among younger demographics (81 percent of those aged 18–24 and 75 percent of those aged 25–34).

Historically, the middle and upper-educated classes often stayed behind to fill local corporate positions. Today, the intensity to leave is highest among the college-educated (73 percent).

The study highlights that the local labor market is failing to provide competitive wages, sufficient career growth and work-life balance compared to overseas markets.

While the historical Procter and Gamble-commissioned study from decades ago captured an early, widespread “aspiration” or dream among Filipino teens to go abroad, the OCTA Research findings signal that this sentiment has intensified from a vague youthful ambition into a concrete, calculated life strategy.

And here is another thing: The older generation viewed going abroad as a temporary, painful sacrifice to build a house or send kids to school back home, always aiming to eventually retire in the Philippines. Not with our present youth. The brain drain is starting to be irreversible.

JobStreet Philippines reports that roughly 35 percent of departing Filipinos prefer long-term or permanent relocation. They aren’t looking to go abroad just to send money back home; they are looking to permanently work and live abroad, often intending to bring their families with them.

This means the country permanently loses top-tier talent it spent resources educating. Local employers are now struggling to match international salary rates, inducing severe hiring bottlenecks and stunting local business growth.

So, who are we left with in the Motherland?

Sadly, we are left with the lawyers. The legal profession holds a unique structural position in Philippine society that keeps them firmly anchored at home.

Choosing law in the Philippines is a deliberate, highly calculated pursuit of elite power, influence and high local income — a stark contrast to the economic survival strategy of going abroad.

While an engineer or nurse goes abroad to seek higher wages, a Filipino lawyer stays because legal training is the ultimate vehicle for domestic upward mobility.

In the Philippines, the law is intertwined with corporate ownership and political machinery. A successful local lawyer can command massive retainer fees, sit on corporate boards and wield immense societal influence that no ordinary overseas job can offer.

Lawyers heavily dominate Congress and the government bureaucracy. The Philippine political system is highly legalistic. Knowing how to write laws, navigate loopholes and tie up opponents in litigation makes lawyers natural candidates for public office.

Becoming a politician or a powerful bureaucrat yields far more generational wealth and status locally than working a mid-level professional job abroad.

Remember the story of BBM telling his father, the late dictator, that he wanted to go into science. His father supposedly told him to choose politics instead because that’s where the money is. Being a lawyer is the entry point into politics for those who are not born into a political dynasty like BBM.

 So, the Philippine talent pool has split into two parallel, deliberate strategies: The Outward Path (STEM/health care): Seeking a better life by changing geography; The Inward Path (Law): Seeking a premium life by dominating the rotten local system.

Decades ago, when the Nielsen/P&G study captured teens talking about following their parents, it was often in pursuit of a youthful idealization of the “balikbayan box” lifestyle.

Academic studies on adolescents of OFWs reveal that many children grow up explicitly reconciling the emotional pain of parental absence by viewing migration as an essential, standard compromise for family survival and progression.

This is what sociologists call a “culture of migration.” Because they saw their family’s standard of living, education and security directly tied to foreign currency, local employment is seen as a sub-optimal alternative.

The OCTA research showed how parents overseas guide their children’s local educational choices — pushing them toward degrees like nursing, maritime services, IT or engineering — specifically to execute a multi-generational handoff. The goal is to create a permanent family anchor abroad.

I can understand why many are giving up on the country. We, after all, have just one life to live and the Philippines looks and feels hopeless with the kind of leaders our people elect.

I am still hoping that the great Filipino dream, rather than to give up and leave, is to fix this country enough to make it worthwhile to stay. I know... that’s not a winning bet.

Boo Chanco’s email address is [email protected]. Follow him on X @boochanco