FREEPIK-WAVEBREAKMEDIA_MICROLast week, as I was discussing lessons during my sustainability management class, I caught myself in a moment of irony. Here I was, teaching undergraduates about building sustainable businesses and communities, while watching support systems crumble around us. The timing couldn’t be more pointed: February, traditionally celebrated as a month of love, now asks us to examine what care and responsibility truly mean when traditional support structures fall away.
The challenges we face are immediate and severe. President Donald Trump’s January decision to suspend US foreign assistance for 90 days has already begun disrupting development programs across the Philippines. I have witnessed this firsthand. Programs designed to strengthen local businesses through education and mentorship now sit dormant, their projects frozen. These aren’t just abstract policy changes — they represent lost opportunities for Philippine entrepreneurs who need support to grow and create jobs.
Yet this external shock comes paired with an equally concerning domestic reality. The 2025 national budget strips P11.6 billion from education, eliminates crucial healthcare subsidies, and reduces social welfare programs. As detailed in Kenneth Abante’s recent “Yellow Pad” column in BusinessWorld, “Stealing our Dignity,” these cuts don’t just reduce services — they transform essential support systems into instruments of political patronage. Healthcare access now depends on guarantee letters from politicians. Education programs shrink while pork barrel projects expand.
These dual pressures weigh heavily on me, both as an educator and as someone raising a family in the Philippines. Each day in the classroom, I question what lessons we’re really teaching our youth. When we discuss business responsibility and social impact, how do we reconcile these ideals with a system that seems to be dismantling the very foundations of social support? What kind of society are we building — or unbuilding — for our children?
The answers, I believe, must come from within our communities, particularly from the business sector. Traditional corporate social responsibility programs won’t suffice anymore. We need companies willing to step forward as systemic forces for good, creating lasting partnerships that fill the widening gaps in our social fabric. Some businesses are already showing the way, establishing education partnerships with universities, launching healthcare access initiatives, and developing mentorship programs for small enterprises. These aren’t just stopgap measures — they’re investments in community resilience.
This spirit of modern-day bayanihan — of communities coming together in times of need — offers hope amid uncertainty. Industry coalitions are forming, local solutions are emerging, and businesses are discovering that social impact and commercial success can grow together. Yet even as we celebrate these positive steps, we must not forget our responsibility to hold both government and global partners accountable for their choices and their consequences.
What might it look like if businesses approached these challenges not as distant observers but as integral community partners? Perhaps it begins with understanding where the deepest needs lie as budgets shrink. Maybe it involves discovering how companies might work together, pooling resources and expertise in ways we haven’t yet imagined. The path forward might require us to reimagine funding models that build independence and resilience, moving beyond the familiar patterns of aid dependence. These aren’t simple solutions, but they’re questions worth exploring as we search for sustainable ways to strengthen our communities.
The kind of love our country needs now isn’t the February greeting-card variety. It’s the practical, determined kind that shows up when systems fail. It’s the love that drives business leaders to look beyond quarterly profits to community prosperity. It’s the love that pushes educators to find new ways to teach and inspire when resources disappear. It’s the love that builds lasting strength from temporary crisis.
As I continue to be an educator and a parent, I remind myself that this moment asks something extraordinary of all of us. The void left by retreating aid and shrinking budgets must be filled by something stronger — our collective commitment to each other. My students give me hope. They see these challenges not as insurmountable problems but as calls to action. They understand that true care means stepping forward when others step back.
This is how we build the country we want for the next generation: not through dependence on foreign aid or patronage politics, but through communities coming together, businesses stepping up, and citizens refusing to let support systems fail. This is the kind of love that must fill the void.
Patrick Adriel H. Aure, PhD is the founding director of the Phinma-DLSU Center for Business and Society and assistant dean for quality assurance of the DLSU Ramon V. del Rosario College of Business.
