The Quiet Christmas of the Unemployed

I found myself thinking about December again, not because of the lights or the noise, but because of the silence that hangs around people who suddenly find themselves without work, especially in the midst of rising prices. Every year, this season amplifies whatever we are carrying, and unemployment has a way of becoming louder than any Christmas carol.

The numbers alone make me pause. In September 2025, the country’s unemployment rate climbed to 5.3 percent in July 2025, up from 4.7 percent in July 2024, the highest the Philippines has recorded since August 2022. That figure always floats through policy briefings and labor reports, but it feels different when you imagine millions of Noche Buenas unfolding with a little more worry than warmth. It makes the holiday look less like a celebration and more like a test of how well the country supports people who fall through the cracks.

I have spoken to enough people across industries to know that unemployment rarely arrives alone. It brings stress, guilt, and the quiet pressure to perform stability. December magnifies all of that. Group photos become reminders of timelines that did not go as planned. Conversations about blessings and breakthroughs become landmines for anyone who is just trying to make it to January.

The labor market volatility behind these numbers tells another story. Many Filipinos rely on temporary contracts, gigs, or unstable income sources. A weather disturbance, a market slump, or a delayed project can be enough to push someone to being jobless. That instability compounds during the holidays, amidst increasing costs, when extra expenses and social expectations rise.

The larger problem sits beyond individual experience. December exposes how fragile employment in the Philippines really is. Too many workers exist in a cycle of temporary contracts, low wages, and minimal protection. One corporate restructuring, one cut in funding, an unforeseen bankruptcy, and a worker falls. That kind of volatility is not a personal flaw, but a long recurring structural decision.

Holiday generosity often hides this truth. We talk about handouts and bonuses, but these gestures do little to address why millions remain unemployed or underemployed in the first place. Even the most festive campaigns cannot replace long-term labor reform. The season comforts, but it also distracts.

I keep returning to a question that lingers beneath the surface. What does a just Christmas look like for someone who lost their job in October or November? It would probably look like stable work waiting for them in the new year. It would look like stronger labor protections that prevent sudden job loss. It would look like a safety net that does not rely on luck, personal networks, or holiday charity.

For now, many will navigate December with a mix of resilience and quiet worry. They will attend parties selectively, smile when needed, and hope that next year treats them with more mercy. Behind the bright lights, unemployed Filipinos will carry their own version of the season, one that is less about glitter and more about getting through the month without losing hope.

I am not sure if that version of Christmas makes it to our commercials or national narratives. Maybe it should. Maybe the country needs to remember that the holidays are not only for those who can afford to celebrate loudly. They are also for those who approach the season gently, uncertain, but still trying.

And in a year where millions of Filipinos face December without stable work, that quiet story deserves to be told just as clearly as the festive one.