Profit over survival

A disturbing narrative has emerged from the call centers that never sleep. When the 6.9-magnitude quake rattled Cebu, some BPO agents were reportedly ordered to stay on calls even as the floors heaved beneath them. Others said their exits and escape routes were blocked, while their managers yelled for “calm” as the world around them literally trembled.

In the hours that followed, hundreds of agents described how they were made to keep working through thousands of aftershocks, with supervisors threatening sanctions if they logged out. Some who refused to report, having chosen reasonably to prioritize safety and family, were slapped with show-cause orders for “unauthorized absences.”

Naturally, the BPO Industry Employees Network (BIEN) Cebu did what it was supposed to do, going straight to the Department of Labor and Employment (DoLE) to file a formal complaint. At stake is not some abstract benefit or labor entitlement, but the most fundamental of human rights: the right to stay alive.

Their case is anchored on Republic Act 11058, the Occupational Safety and Health (OSH) Law, which compels employers to maintain safe and healthy workplaces, and DoLE’s own advisories that workers may refuse work in situations of imminent danger, natural or man-made.

If the reports are verified, these aren’t mere infractions but criminal negligence, textbook violations of RA 11058, DoLE regulations, and every shred of decency that should guide those who profit from people’s labor. Forcing employees to choose between keeping their job and keeping their heartbeat isn’t management’s prerogative, but moral rot.

Now, the law gives DoLE the power to penalize, suspend, and even close down establishments that recklessly endanger their workers. That power means nothing if it isn’t used. The BPO sector’s 24/7 mantra cannot override the Constitution’s guarantee of human dignity and security of life.

And this is hardly the first time we’ve seen business continuity plans weaponized against common sense. Every typhoon season, workers are told to report even when roads are flooded, bridges are impassable, and power lines are down.

The argument is always the same: operations must continue. But when “continuity” becomes a euphemism for “you’re expendable,” something in the social contract has already collapsed.

Legally, each case must rise or fall on its own facts.

Courts look at whether the danger was imminent, whether authorities suspended work, and whether the employer fulfilled its OSH duties, including maintaining safe egress routes, conducting regular drills, and providing remote work alternatives.

Likewise, put under the microscope is the question of whether disciplinary measures imposed on workers followed due process. Jurisprudence leans heavily toward the worker.

The Supreme Court has long held that when working conditions become impossible, unreasonable, or life-threatening, continued employment ceases to be voluntary. That is the very definition of constructive dismissal.

But the bigger failure is cultural. We live in a country that praises “resilience” as if it were a moral virtue, when it’s really a coping mechanism for systemic neglect.

The same officials who preach preparedness can’t even ensure that buildings meet structural codes. The same legislators who will now wag their fingers at negligent employers have, for decades, funded projects that crumble under their own corruption.

Phivolcs has warned us for years that the Big One is not a question of if, but when. And when it hits, it won’t just flatten buildings — it will expose the moral foundations we’ve ignored.