| Screengrab from OFBank video
The government’s refusal to even entertain a transition of Overseas Filipino Bank (OFBank) to genuine Overseas Filipino ownership is more than a policy choice; it is a revealing statement about how the state sees migrants and the poor: as sources of remittances and votes, but not as shareholders in their own economic future.
OFBank was created not from scratch but by converting the old Philippine Postal Savings Bank into a wholly owned subsidiary of Land Bank via Executive Order No. 44 in 2017. The order explicitly directed the Land Bank “to infuse the necessary capital” so that OFBank could meet the financial needs of overseas Filipinos, while keeping ownership squarely in state hands. As of end‑2022, OFBank’s paid‑up capital stood at about ₱2.68 billion, with net capital of ₱1.24 billion, reflecting continuous public sector capitalization rather than member‑ownership. In other words, the institution that markets itself as “the bank for overseas Filipinos” is in fact a bank about them and over them, but never truly theirs.
A serious petition to mutualize OFBank—through a block grant that would fully capitalize it, and through paid‑in shares subscribed by overseas Filipinos themselves—would flip that structure. Government would shift from monopolizing ownership to seeding it, then stepping back as OFWs and migrants themselves become member‑owners, entitled not just to services but to voting rights and dividends. That is precisely what a “development bank” for migrants should look like: not another government‑run window, but a cooperative financial engine of a global community.
The resistance to such a transition parallels a broader habit of the Philippine state: a preference for short‑term dole‑outs and highly controlled grant schemes over genuine, market‑anchored livelihood and financial inclusion programs. DOLE’s Integrated Livelihood Program or “Kabuhayan” Program, for example, offers up to ₱20,000 to individuals and up to ₱1 million to groups to start or enhance their income‑generating projects. As of 2024, over 93,000 beneficiaries had received livelihood assistance, with a sizable share in 4th- to 6th-class municipalities, and DOLE reports that hundreds of thousands of beneficiaries have been assisted since the program’s launch.
On paper, these are “livelihoods” rather than pure dole‑outs. Yet, the operating logic remains paternalistic: government as grantor, the poor as grateful recipients, and sustainability dependent on fresh budget releases. The World Bank’s review of the separate Sustainable Livelihood Program similarly underscores how many such interventions hinge on project‑based cycles and administratively driven targeting rather than permanent, member‑owned vehicles for savings, credit, and enterprise. What is missing, both in the countryside and in the diaspora, is a durable financial institution actually held by the very farmers, workers, and migrants it purports to serve—a gap that a mutualized OFBank could fill for overseas Filipinos and their families.
Other countries have moved beyond this charity‑mindset, treating migrants and minorities as investors and co‑owners, not mere beneficiaries. In the United States, federal credit unions and community development credit unions are explicitly structured as member‑owned cooperatives where depositors—often low‑income, immigrant, or minority communities—hold shares and shape governance. A recent example is the African Diaspora Federal Credit Union in Missouri, founded to help African immigrants and African Americans build generational wealth, offering savings, lending, and financial literacy while being owned and run by people from these communities. Its leadership stresses that communities distrust large, distant banks and prefer institutions “owned by people who look like them” and speak their languages, precisely because ownership and cultural affinity build trust.
Internationally, the World Council of Credit Unions has documented how migrant‑serving credit unions—from Patelco in California to Sicredi in Brazil—successfully mobilize remittances, provide savings and credit, and integrate refugees and migrants into formal finance by designing products around their needs and making them members, not clients. These are not charity outfits; they are regulated financial institutions rooted in cooperative ownership, with strong balance sheets and a track record of resilience. OFBank could have been the Filipino diaspora’s version of these institutions—except that the government chose to keep it as a conventional state‑owned bank, despite a global trend that shows mutualization is both financially viable and socially empowering.
OFBank already sits on a natural captive market: millions of overseas Filipinos remitting billions of pesos yearly through formal channels, and families at home who need savings, loans, and payment services. Its latest annual report shows that, as a digital bank with government backing, it has built up capital and expanded operations, proving that the basic business model—servicing the diaspora via digital channels—is sound. If that model works under 100% government ownership, it can work even better with OFWs as co‑owners, whose deposits, loyalty, and word‑of‑mouth would be reinforced by the promise of dividends and voting rights.
“It is time to flip that script. Overseas Filipinos do not merely deserve a bank named after them; they deserve to own it—and with it, a tangible stake in their collective economic destiny.”
A block grant to recapitalize OFBank, combined with a phased share subscription program for overseas Filipinos and their families, would create a virtuous cycle: the grant would stabilize and strengthen the bank’s capital base. In contrast, member subscriptions would deepen capitalization over time and anchor governance in diaspora interests. Instead of one‑off livelihood checks or scattered training programs, OFWs would own an institutional platform through which they can:
- Pool savings and remittances into long‑term capital.
- Access to fairly priced loans for housing, small business, or agriculture for their families.
- Co‑design financial products that reflect migrant realities, from deployment costs to reintegration needs.
- Receive dividends from a share in the profits of the bank they sustain.
The viability test is simple: OFBank already earns income and holds capital as a government bank; the Filipino diaspora already provides the deposit base. Mutualization does not require inventing a new market; it only redistributes ownership and governance so that the people who fund the bank also own it.
Why, then, the refusal even to discuss a transition to Overseas‑Filipino ownership? One answer lies in the state’s enduring mistrust of collective agency among the marginalized. It is comfortable writing checks to dole out style livelihood programs, where beneficiaries are atomized and dependent on the next round of appropriations. It is far less comfortable enabling a global community of OFWs to own a bank, vote on its board, and channel their savings into projects beyond the direct control of central agencies.
Another answer is fiscal: a mutualized OFBank with its own strong capital base and global membership would weaken the state’s monopoly over a strategic remittance corridor, and, with it, the implicit leverage that comes from being the gatekeeper to services and concessions. Yet this fear is misplaced. Properly regulated, a diaspora‑owned OFBank would still fall under Bangko Sentral supervision and prudential rules; what would change is not regulatory oversight but ownership and purpose. The state’s role would shift from operator to enabler: providing the initial block grant, safeguarding sound regulation, and then getting out of the way.
At a time when other countries are building migrant‑serving cooperative financial institutions and credit unions that integrate remittances, savings, and enterprise, the Philippines clings to a centralized, paternal “we will bank for you” model. It is time to flip that script. Overseas Filipinos do not merely deserve a bank named after them; they deserve to own it—and with it, a tangible stake in their collective economic destiny.
