A German Expat in The Philippines - Ein deutscher Auswanderer auf den Philippinen: PDI

You plan to move to the Philippines? Wollen Sie auf den Philippinen leben?

There are REALLY TONS of websites telling us how, why, maybe why not and when you'll be able to move to the Philippines. I only love to tell and explain some things "between the lines". Enjoy reading, be informed, have fun and be entertained too!

Ja, es gibt tonnenweise Webseiten, die Ihnen sagen wie, warum, vielleicht warum nicht und wann Sie am besten auf die Philippinen auswandern könnten. Ich möchte Ihnen in Zukunft "zwischen den Zeilen" einige zusätzlichen Dinge berichten und erzählen. Viel Spass beim Lesen und Gute Unterhaltung!

Showing posts with label PDI. Show all posts

Thursday, April 9, 2026

Stop making us heroes

Oil prices continue to increase, with last Tuesday’s double-digit increase that led to diesel costing as high as P172.9 per liter and gasoline up to P119.9 per liter. Public utility vehicle (PUV) drivers, who have long been calling for fare increases, have been ignored by the government and instead have been promised “ayuda.” It is not known whether the frequency and amount of ayuda will be enough to offset the financial losses, especially as oil prices continue to increase, and along with them, our general cost of living. I watched a transport spokesperson on the news, who seemed despondent at the government’s lack of action, explain that whatever ayuda they receive now is no longer to pay for today’s fuel but to pay the debts they have incurred in the last few weeks. Her remarks highlight the inadequacy of the ayuda strategy, in that it is insufficient to keep PUV drivers ply their routes. Commuters, therefore, will continue to struggle to get to work as fewer and fewer PUVs are on the road. There are beginnings of a contract service program, specifically in Manila, though Mayor Isko Moreno admits they are not sure if they have the funds to sustain it through the oil crisis.

The Department of Finance responded to the multisectoral call to suspend the excise tax by expressing concern that doing so would decrease the government’s revenue by at least P121 billion. It is hard to sympathize with this, as they have allowed—and continue to allow—hundreds of billions of taxpayer money to be siphoned off by corrupt officials and contractors. Surely, they can spend this much energy on recovering the funds stolen by their government colleagues to spare ordinary Filipinos from further suffering at the gas station.

Once again, in a crisis, it is the regular folk who have to bear the brunt of keeping our system afloat. It is the jeepney and tricycle drivers who have to continue absorbing the cost for the sake of the commuters. Commuters, in turn, have no choice but to keep going to work despite difficulties in getting there. Establishments continue to run and provide services, thanks to such commuters. It also happens to be tax season, and we, taxpayers, have the burden of doing our duty to keep government programs running.

The government has a habit of calling us heroes. They celebrate overseas Filipino workers as heroes while they trap them in a tiresome paperwork and administrative process just to be able to work abroad. They called medical and economic frontliners heroes during the COVID-19 pandemic even as they withheld hazard pay and other merited benefits.

The term “heroes” is unfortunately used by the government as a misdirection, lauding someone’s sense of responsibility to hide their own lack of action and accountability. It also creates the illusion that the “heroes” have the superpower to solve our national problems when, in fact, it is their powerlessness that forces them to sacrifice.

It is easy for the government to ask jeepney drivers to sacrifice their income because the drivers do not hold power over them. The government holds all the cards: permits, licenses, taxes. Even if jeepney drivers decide to no longer work, they still need to find another source of income. They cannot afford to wait this out. They are also the ones who have to face the tired commuters daily, and so their sense of responsibility is hard to ignore.

It was the same during the pandemic with nurses and other health providers. Despite not receiving back pay, their sense of duty to their patients kept them from walking out. Government agencies are the most egregious employers; they can delay the release of salaries for many months simply because they can.

The government cheers on the “hero” so that it doesn’t have to do the work. The public tightens their belt so that some public officials can continue to ride their helicopters and steal from coffers to fund their lavish lifestyles. They glorify our self-sacrifice so they don’t have to.

There is a Filipino psychology concept called “tagasalo,” coined by psychologist Dr. Lourdes Carandang. It is a personality type, usually within the family, where a family member becomes the tagasalo and carries the burden of caring and solving problems for the family. They become the primary caretaker, the breadwinner, and the emotional babysitter of the family. Expanding her concept to the nation, the regular Filipino citizen has become the tagasalo of our society. We bear the burden of keeping our nation going, even as our public servants actively work against us, creating dysfunctional systems that cause the problems to begin with and exploiting loopholes to enrich themselves at our expense.

In this oil crisis, I sure do hope that the government won’t try to make us the heroes. This time, I hope they do their job.

—————-

aatuazon@up.edu.ph

Monday, April 6, 2026

How great business leaders turn uncertainty into a 90-day action plan

Two weeks ago, I wrote about “Turning chaos into triumph: How to win big in times of crisis and uncertainty.” Given the strong feedback from readers, and because the Philippines is currently in times of higher uncertainty and change, this is a follow-up to that article.

In uncertain times, many leadership teams and business owners make a subtle but very expensive mistake. They do the strategic work. They gather the data. They identify the risks. They run the scenarios. They discuss supply chain shocks, geopolitical instability, customer hesitation, commodity prices, margin pressure and competitive shifts.

Then they stop. They leave the room with a better understanding of uncertainty—but not with a better grip on execution. That is where businesses lose momentum.

Execution is king

Because in volatile conditions, insight is not enough. A scenario plan, however intelligent, does not protect cash flow, calm customers, stabilize operations or create advantage on its own. It only becomes valuable when it is translated into action—clear decisions, accountable owners, specific trigger points and a fast operating rhythm.

That is why great CEOs do not stop at planning. They turn uncertainty into a 90-day action plan. Not a vague annual strategy. Not a heroic five-year vision. Not a thick slide deck full of possibilities. A 90-day action plan.

Why 90 days? Because it is long enough to make meaningful moves and short enough to stay anchored in reality. In uncertain environments, 12 months is often too far away to manage intelligently. Ninety days is a useful window for focus, execution, adaptation and momentum.

Your key questions

Great questions produce high-quality outcomes. What are we watching? What will trigger action? What exactly will we do? Who is responsible?

Without those answers, scenario planning is merely intellectual comfort. It may create the feeling of seriousness, but it does not create operational readiness. The CEO’s job is to force the translation from thought into action.

That means every major scenario must lead to a set of defined moves. If costs spike, what happens? If a supplier fails, what happens? If demand softens in one segment but rises in another, what happens? If a competitor retreats, what happens?

The companies that move best under pressure are rarely the ones with the most elegant analysis. They are the ones who have already decided how they will respond when reality begins to tilt in a particular direction.

Simplicity breeds execution

Reduce complexity and define the few priorities that matter now. In uncertainty, many organizations try to do too much. They create sprawling plans with 20 initiatives, multiple work streams, endless cross-functional meetings and a long list of “strategic responses.” It looks impressive. It is usually ineffective.

When the environment is unstable, the discipline is not to add more. The discipline is to reduce. Your 90-day plan should focus on a very small number of priorities—typically three to five, not 15. For a lot of businesses, those priorities can fall into some variation of these categories: protect cash, secure the core customer base, stabilize operations, defend margin and pursue a few high-upside opportunities.

That last point matters. In a crisis or unstable market, the goal is not simply survival. It is selective advantage. So while the core business must be protected, a small part of the plan should also be aimed at winning business, gaining share or opening new pathways while competitors hesitate.

Monday, March 16, 2026

Like and subscribe or subscribe to like?

y David Bobier

Spotify is my best friend. We have been best friends since grade school. Do not be surprised if you receive a wedding invitation from me and a listening platform.

However, our relationship experienced a rocky phase. It was during my eighth-grade days. It was 2016, the pinnacle of the music industry. Let’s just say, we found ourselves drowning in cold water.

I wanted Spotify to stay, but I was confronted with a subscription plan. A monthly fee that gives unlimited access to its services. I just wanted to download Kendrick Lamar’s “Money Trees” so I can go crazy during my jeepney rides.

It is more forgiving for passengers to see me go crazy with my earphones on than to look aimlessly and bother them out of boredom, so I took the bait and sacrificed some lunch meals to afford the monthly subscription.

Subscribing to unlimited music was the highlight of my 2016. However, I did not feel that I owned anything. Even until now.

Access does not automatically mean ownership. The only thing I own on Spotify is my account. Once I stop paying for Spotify, I will lose access to its services.

However, if I actually buy a song on iTunes or a physical CD, it seems I am paying way more than just a subscription. I will always choose the P128 (pre-pandemic) monthly Spotify subscription over the P2,000 M.A.A.d. City physical album.

How on earth did I end up running up against the end-of-the-month deadline for renewing my subscription just to access Ariana Grande’s songs, back when Spotify was still free to use? I do get it, artists deserve to get paid for their artistic work, but seeing myself running out of money is a different story.

This financial decision creates the illusion that I am saving a heck of a lot of money. However, I was just paying so much because access to listening is for life, and so is the payment. An Illusion that I am not even using other features I am paying for. Yes, I am still in the loop for Spotify.

Not only Spotify, but also almost every digital platform has this kind of scheme. Every time I watch YouTube, I cannot watch a full vlog without an advertisement. Even worse, I have to skip several ads to continue the vlog, which can take more than a minute while I wait for the skip ad button to appear.

Thanks to those ads, I was saved from the apparent jump scare in the video that my classmate had pranked me into watching. Although I am still mad for that 20-second Jollibee ad squeezed between the scene when Yaya Dub was about to meet Alden along the hallway, and a plywood was about to separate them.

In response to the subscription craze, the charm of pirated media glowed even brighter. As more platforms gatekeep their “original” goods, such as Netflix’s “Stranger Things,” illegal websites sprang up to give free access to everyone.

Illegal by law, but I have no reason to sue everyone who streams illegally. What else can be used by a Filipino as a pastime if expensive things surround her? Where do they go if there are barely any public spaces for everyone?

Bango, a research institute, reported that 43 percent of Filipinos cannot track their subscriptions. 2nd Opinion, on the other hand, revealed that 85 percent of Filipinos subscribe to many services due to the variety of services they offer. This just proves that we are living under debt under the guise of subscriptions.

We all owe money to companies until we choose to cancel. Well, I do not want to cancel my Spotify subscription because where else should I subscribe? Spotify might get jealous and accuse me of cheating.

Companies have found a way to make us pay them regularly in exchange for fake ownership. They either give us an eye-catching preview of the premium features or force us to do it by stripping down the convenience of accessing media.

Is it still correct to say “Like and Subscribe” if subscribing is the ultimate key to accessing the services I like? To set me free from the cheating charges against me?

As they say, loving is free. Loving what you do must be free, or at least, affordable. I do not want Spotify and I to end up like Marvin and Jolina or Yaya Dub and Alden. Yearning will be a result of expensive expectations of keeping in touch.

If there are public spaces where I can be productive in doing other hobbies, I might not find myself digging another stash of cash to pay for my Spotify subscription. Just a casual rotation of listening to music might suffice for my day.

Even just an initiative for the government to remove the added tax for such subscriptions is a big help. In this, my and Spotify’s married life will continue its happy run and inspire others to pursue their love of music without hurting their pockets.

Fnally, we can now live together, happily ever after.

addiction budget David Bobier

Saturday, March 14, 2026

Some disadvantages of women

In line with National Women’s Month, let me recall some experiences that most impressed me about the disadvantages of being a woman.

In some countries, the women may not eat until the men are finished. Long ago, at an international meeting in Bangkok, probably at lunchtime, I was surprised when a South Asian lady asked me, “Mahar, is it true that, in the Philippines, the women have their meals together with the men?” This lady was newly arrived, from either India or Bangladesh, on her very first posting abroad. She explained that in her country, the men and boys are served first, and only after they are through eating do the women and girls take their meal.

What shocked me was her saying that, furthermore, all the food cooked for the family’s meal must be placed on the dining table together, with nothing reserved in the kitchen. This means that the womenfolk depend on what food the menfolk remember to leave behind for them when it’s their turn to eat. (How hard it is to be a male guest for a meal, and not knowing how many women are waiting to eat! I suppose the guest should eat as little as good manners allow.)

A woman is a riskier investment for advanced training abroad. When I was a very young and single economics faculty member at the University of the Philippines Diliman (UPD), I was once with our dean, José “Pepe” Encarnación Jr., having coffee in the lounge, where he was brooding over whether to allot a foreign scholarship grant to a woman. I myself was in line for such a grant, but he said he wasn’t worried about me, whatever my plans about getting married (which I did, just before leaving for foreign studies).

It takes four to five years to do an economics Ph.D. abroad, which is quite expensive in terms of both time and money. In such a long absence, there’s no guarantee that a scholar won’t get married, and perhaps get married to a foreigner! (Pepe himself had returned with an American wife from his studies at Princeton University.) If she gets married, he pointed out, that brings the husband—possibly a foreigner—into the decision-making process about the wife’s finishing the designated study program successfully and then coming back to render the agreed service of two years on the UP faculty for every one year abroad. Even though the money comes from an American foundation, UP needs a good track record to maintain its scholarship program.

I don’t know if Pepe had to refuse a foreign scholarship to any women candidates, but in my time—I got my Ph.D. in 1970, and stayed with the UP faculty until 1981—there were many more men than women who got them. Thanks to its faculty buildup, UP began producing its own economics PhDs in 1975 (the first graduate was a woman, by the way). Brain drain doesn’t seem to be as big an issue as before. The main economics building in UPD is named after Pepe; there’s no doubt he did an outstanding job as its dean for nine years.

Women’s natural disadvantage is in their participation in the labor force. Women naturally take time off for childbearing, and then for child-raising. In the Social Weather Surveys, the joblessness rate among female adults can easily be double that of male adults. Joblessness in Social Weather Stations (SWS) surveys literally means having no job (“walang trabaho”) but at the same time looking for one; those not looking for work are not part of the labor force.

The mere fact of having a job or being at work is not an indicator of women’s well-being; it’s just part of life. How much one’s work is enjoyed for its own sake is another matter, that is researchable and measurable.

In the Philippines, the state of women’s well-being is not far from that of men. As of last November, the percentage of women saying their personal quality of life (QOL) got better from the year before was 31, while that saying it got worse was 36, or a net-gainers score of -5. For men, the corresponding percentages were 28 and 36, or net -8, or slightly less than that for women.

The percentage of women expecting their personal QOL to get better in the next year (optimists) was 45, while the percentage expecting it to get worse (pessimists) was only 6, or a net-optimists score of +39. For men, the corresponding percentages were 44 and 10, or net +34, or slightly less than that for women.

The SWS surveys also track expectations about the progress of the economy as a whole. When sorted by gender, the women’s scores are likewise a little better than those of men.

—————-

mahar.mangahas@sws.org.ph.

Saturday, March 7, 2026

When our votes gamble the future

By Jade Nicole M. Gatchalian

The sound of vehicles blaring their horns echoes across the highway. Tires roll endlessly on burning roads, while the city continues to move as if it has no time to look down. Yet on the sidewalks, and sometimes even between lanes, people stand still, holding their small livelihoods in their hands.

Plastic bags filled with food. Folded rugs. Handmade crafts. Bottles of water. Sampaguita garlands.

They smile, not because life is kind, but because they must.

Some people say, “Poor people are poor because they are lazy.”

But if they only dared to look outside their tinted windows, they would realize how cruel and ignorant that statement is. Poverty in the Philippines is not a punishment for laziness. It is the outcome of an unfair system, one that rewards privilege and leaves the struggling behind.

Filipinos are known all over the world for being hardworking and warm. We are praised for our diligence, resilience, and ability to endure. Many of us even leave our own country, not because we want to abandon our families, but because we know how difficult it is to build a stable future here. In the Philippines, hard work does not always lead to success. Sometimes, it only leads to exhaustion.

Every day, we witness “diskarte.” People do what they can to survive. They sell their time, grit, and talent. They offer pieces of themselves just to earn enough for one meal, one day, and one more chance to continue. What breaks my heart the most is seeing the elderly still working in the heat. Their backs are bent, their steps are slow, yet they continue. It is as if rest is a luxury they were never meant to have.

But should life be like this?

Should those who have worked their entire lives still be forced to beg, sell, and struggle just to stay alive?

In a country where a lot of taxes are collected, budgets are announced, and promises are made, people should not have to suffer this way. Yet, instead of protection, we are neglected. Instead of progress, we get excuses. Instead of service, we witness greed.

Funds meant for the people disappear. Projects turn into scandals. Programs become tools for campaigns. And while ordinary citizens count coins in their palms, politicians count wealth that cannot be explained by salaries alone. They are surrounded by luxury, defended by supporters, and shielded by speeches filled with empty promises.

Some say, “The Philippines is poor.”

But I do not believe that.

How can we call ourselves poor when our land is filled with natural beauty, rich culture, and people who never stop hoping? We are the Pearl of the Orient Seas. We are blessed with seas, mountains, forests, and a spirit that refuses to die. We are not lacking in resources or hard working citizens. What we lack is honest leadership.

The Philippines is not poor. The Philippines is being robbed. Our nation is being plundered.

What makes it worse is that many still believe the ones who are stealing from them. The vulnerable cling to promises because sometimes hope is the only thing they have left. But hope should not be weaponized. It should not be used as bait to gain power.

I often wonder what would happen if corrupt politicians lived one day as an ordinary Filipino? If they had to wake up not knowing if there would be food on the table. If they had to commute under the heat, work endlessly, and still come home with barely enough. If they had to count every coin, calculate what to sacrifice, and choose between needs. Would they still steal?

Would they still smile onstage, wearing expensive clothes, while people beg for a chance to live?

Maybe then they would realize that being a public servant is not a title to be worn. It is a responsibility to be carried.

We must open our eyes and stop normalizing suffering and resiliency. We must stop treating corruption as something expected. We must stop accepting a country where survival is the only goal.

We see people working hard every day. We see vendors, laborers, street sellers, and the elderly continue despite the pain. They carry this nation on their backs. They deserve more than sympathy. They deserve justice. And justice begins with awareness.

Voting is not just a right. It is power. Every vote counts, and every voice matters. We should not be afraid to speak out when something is wrong because silence allows corruption to grow. To stay quiet while crimes are committed is to let them continue.

When we vote without thinking, we do not just waste a ballot. We gamble the future. We risk the dreams of the next generation. We risk the lives of those who have already suffered enough.

So may we choose wisely. May we research deeply. May we stop rushing decisions that will shape the country for years. And may we finally refuse leaders who treat the nation as their personal treasure chest.

If we want real unity, it must begin with truth.

And if we want change, it must begin with us.

A German Expat in The Philippines - Ein deutscher Auswanderer auf den Philippinen