Every Christmas season, the streets of Metro Manila once again fill with familiar, troubling scenes: Indigenous Peoples (IPs) and street children weaving through lanes of traffic, tapping on car windows, palms outstretched for a few coins. For many motorists, this has become an almost expected tableau of the “Ber months,” when generosity comes naturally and compassion is often spontaneous.

This year, however, the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) is once again urging the public to resist the impulse to give alms. The agency’s reminder is not rooted in a lack of empathy. Instead, it stems from years of experience showing how street begging—especially during the holidays—places children and IPs at risk, sustains exploitative networks, and pulls vulnerable families further away from long-term solu-tions.

DSWD spokesperson Assistant Secretary Irene Dumlao acknowledges the public’s instinct to help, but stresses that “the right way” to give is through organized programs designed to protect families in street situ-ations (FISS). At the forefront of these is the Pag-Abot Program, institutionalized through Executive Order No. 52 in 2024. It is a year-round initiative anchored on a rights-based approach—no forced rescues, no coerced removals—only trained social workers patiently explaining the dangers of life on the streets and what help the government can provide.

The numbers show that the approach is working. Since its launch, Pag-Abot has already profiled around 14,000 individuals and assisted thousands of families. More importantly, over 2,900 individuals have been rein-tegrated into their home provinces, many of them starting anew with livelihood assistance, temporary shelter, or continuing support from local government units. In the program’s processing center in Pasay City, the Wa-lang Gutom Kitchen serves hot meals daily and welcomes volunteers and food donations—an avenue for com-passion that does not place children at risk.

The dangers are real, and they go far beyond the physical hazards of weaving through cars. As early as 2023, the DSWD had uncovered street begging syndicates that ferried entire IP communities from Mindanao and Lu-zon to urban centers during Christmas. Many victims recounted how syndicate members paid for their fare, crammed them into makeshift quarters in Tondo, and forced them into the streets, earning thousands in alms while receiving only scraps of the proceeds. The holiday generosity of city dwellers, though well-intentioned, had unknowingly fueled a lucrative enterprise.

History offers reminders as well. In places like Mt. Pulag decades ago, visitors were urged: “Do not make our children indolent. Do not give alms.” Another sign gently clarified: “Our children are looking at you because they are curious; they are not asking for money.” These warnings reflected deep community understanding that almsgiving, though kindly meant, can corrode dignity and dependency.

The key difference today is that street begging in Metro Manila is no longer a simple act of poverty—it is of-ten tied to organized exploitation, systemic risk, and the violation of children’s rights. The Anti-Mendicancy Law (PD 1563) has long prohibited almsgiving and begging in public places, precisely because it exposes both giver and recipient to these risks while diverting assistance away from institutions equipped to provide real support.

This raises the question: Is handing loose change an act of charity, or a gesture that unwittingly perpetuates exploitation?

Compassion does not diminish by being redirected. In fact, it becomes more meaningful. Giving through the Pag-Abot Program, volunteering at the Walang Gutom Kitchen, donating to accredited organizations, or re-porting families in street situations to DSWD’s channels ensures that help reaches people safely, sustainably, and with dignity.

This Christmas, the question is not whether we should give. It is how to give in a way that truly lifts people off the streets—permanently, not just for the day.