YOU hear it everywhere these days—on social media, in pedicabs, even at family dinners: “Morag survival mode na man lang ta ani kada adlaw.” And for so many Negrosanons, and Filipinos all over the country, it’s not an exaggeration. Despite headlines celebrating economic growth, life for the average person often feels like one long scramble just to get by.
Take Felisa, a market vendor here in our city. Every morning, she wakes up before sunrise to set up her stall. By the end of the day, after covering rent, food, and school allowances for her kids, she’s lucky if there’s anything left for herself. “Usahay, morag gusto lang ka mo-ginhawa,” she admits. “Pero kinahanglan magpadayon, unsaon taman, ingon ani man atong kinabuhi,” then adds sarcastically, “dili man ta contractor.” That’s survival mode—living day to day, never quite certain if tomorrow will be easier.
So why does this feeling persist?
It’s actually a mix of rising costs, unstable jobs, climate disasters, and governance challenges that keep people like Felisa on edge.
Cost of living outpaces real wages
Inflation numbers might look calm on paper—1.6–1.9% in 2025—but at the wet market, the story is different. Rice, vegetables, cooking oil—they’re all still expensive. For millions of families, putting enough food on the table is a daily struggle.
Wages haven’t caught up. The debate over a proposed P200 minimum wage increase reflects a painful reality: without more income, survival becomes nearly impossible. Low inflation on paper doesn’t fill empty stomachs.
Jobs exist but good ones are scarce
Officially, unemployment rates are low. But for someone like Benjie, a construction worker in Cebu, “a job” doesn’t necessarily mean security. Temporary contracts, unstable hours, low pay—these are the realities for many. Farmers, fisherfolk, and indigenous communities face even higher poverty rates, a blunt reminder that economic growth isn’t reaching everyone.
Corruption and governance failures heighten anxiety
Then there’s the frustration that comes from seeing public money misused. The Trillion Peso March protests in 2025—sparked by alleged mismanagement of flood control funds—show how corruption hits ordinary families where it hurts most. Billions that could have improved health services, schools, or disaster preparedness were lost, leaving communities to fend for themselves.
Climate shocks make life unpredictable
The Philippines is no stranger to natural disasters. Typhoons like Matmo in 2025 displaced hundreds of thousands. Volcanic eruptions, like Kanlaon, disrupt agriculture and local economies. For families who rely on their daily income, these aren’t temporary setbacks—they’re devastating blows that can take months or years to recover from.
Poverty is still a daily reality
Even if poverty rates are improving on paper, nearly 28% of Filipinos live just above the poverty line. One sudden medical bill, a spike in food prices, or a lost day of work can send a family spiraling back into hardship. For millions, survival mode isn’t a metaphor—it’s reality.
Why survival mode persists
Economic growth, low inflation, job creation—these numbers matter. But they don’t always translate into real security. For families like Felisa and Benjie, every day is a balancing act — food, rent, transport, school fees. One wrong step, and it all tumbles down.
Until policies—from fair wages to disaster-ready infrastructure—actually help families move beyond mere survival, “survival mode” won’t be just a saying. It’s the lived experience of a nation still struggling to turn economic headlines into everyday hope.
Here in our province, and in this city, I am praying to God that our leaders will not make us live in “survival mode” always.
