OPINION | Fare Enough?

There’s always been something quietly irritating about the travel tax. It’s one of those fees Filipinos accept with a sigh—an extra charge tucked into the cost of leaving the country, as if mobility itself needs a price tag. So when House Majority Leader Rep. Sandro Marcos filed a bill seeking to abolish the travel tax, it instantly sounded like the kind of reform that should have happened years ago.

On paper, the proposal is simple: remove a levy that many see as outdated and unnecessary. In his statements, Marcos argues the travel tax has outlived its purpose and has become an added burden on Filipino travelers—one that makes travel more expensive without necessarily making life better for citizens. It’s an argument that lands easily. After all, airfare is already costly, and the average Filipino traveler is already paying multiple fees before even stepping into the airport.

More importantly, Filipinos travel abroad for reasons that go far beyond leisure. Some leave to pursue education, seek medical treatment, or comply with work requirements. Many travel for family reasons—reunions, emergencies, funerals, milestones missed for years because life overseas is not a choice but a necessity. For overseas Filipino workers and their families, travel isn’t a luxury. It’s a part of the reality of earning, surviving, and staying connected.

In that context, the travel tax feels less like a policy and more like a penalty. It doesn’t discourage harmful behavior. It doesn’t regulate a scarce resource. It simply charges citizens for the act of leaving—something that, in a globalized world, is often tied to opportunity.

So yes, abolishing it can be framed as relief. It’s a symbolic statement that Filipinos should not be taxed simply for crossing borders.

But it’s also worth asking the uncomfortable question: who benefits the most?

Because while travel tax abolition technically helps all departing Filipinos, it does not help them equally. Those who travel frequently—business professionals, affluent tourists, and regular international flyers—stand to gain the most. The tax is paid per departure. If you leave the country multiple times a year, you save repeatedly. If you travel once every few years, the savings are real but occasional. And if you never travel abroad, you gain nothing at all.

That doesn’t mean the tax should remain. But it does mean the reform can be sold as “for the people” even if, in practice, it functions as a recurring discount for those who already have the means to travel. The everyday Filipino struggling with transport costs, food prices, and tuition will not suddenly feel relief because travel tax is gone. Many of them will never pay it in the first place.

And then there’s the issues lawmakers tend to gloss over when pushing popular measures: where the money goes.

The travel tax has historically been tied to funding tourism development and education-related programs. Marcos’ bill, based on its logic and his public justification, suggests that these funds should no longer be collected through a travel-specific levy and can instead be addressed through the regular budgeting process. In theory, that sounds more transparent—less of an automatic charge, more of a deliberate public allocation.

But in practice, it can also mean the funding becomes more fragile.

Earmarked finds, for all their flaws, have one advantage: they’re predictable. Once the travel tax is removed, the government must either replace the revenue through other taxes, increase allocations elsewhere, or accept a funding gap. If lawmakers are serious about abolition, they need to be equally serious about what comes after it. Otherwise, this could become one of those reforms that feels good at first—until the consequences show up later in reduced support for programs that actually benefit the public.

Still, defending the travel tax in 2026 is difficult.

It is a product of a time when international travel was far less common and far more exclusive. Today, the Philippines is a country with millions of overseas workers, migrant families, and students. The airport is not just a gateway for leisure; it is a revolving door for labor and livelihood. Charging citizens for leaving—especially when the state already collects airport fees, ticket taxes, and other travel-related charges—starts to look less like governance and more like opportunism.

If Marcos’ bill becomes law, it will be celebrated as a pro-people move. And in many ways, it is. It removes a financial barrier, however small, and it signals a modernization of travel policy.

But lawmakers should not pretend it is automatically progressive. A reform can be popular and still unequal. If the government wants this to be truly pro-Filipino, abolition should not end at removing the travel tax. It must come with clear guarantees that the programs once supported by the levy will not be abandoned—and that the benefits of “relief” will not be concentrated among those who already travel with ease.

Abolishing the travel tax may be long overdue. But if it becomes just another perk for frequent flyers, then the country will have traded an outdated policy for a feel-good headline—without addressing the deeper inequality that decides who gets to travel in the first place.