What an expat has learned about leadership in times of crisis

When my husband and I moved to Qatar 10 years ago, we dreamed of building our family here. But like many Filipinos who leave home, we told ourselves this was temporary. We would save, work hard, and eventually return to the Philippines.

Our first year was far from glamorous. We rented the master’s bedroom in a shared apartment, living alongside several other families. The kitchen was communal. Privacy was limited. In our first seven years, we moved apartments four times before finally deciding to have a place of our own.

For us, the Middle East felt unfamiliar — culturally, geographically, emotionally. There were no relatives nearby. It was just us.

We did not expect to stay. What changed was not just circumstance. It was a life experience.

We lived through the 2017 Gulf blockade, a geopolitical rupture that closed borders and disrupted supply chains almost overnight. For a country that had long depended on imports, the immediate question was simple but serious: how would food continue to reach the population?

What followed was one of the most ambitious food security responses in the region.

Within months, Qatar accelerated domestic production, diversified trade routes, and launched large-scale food sustainability programs. What could have spiraled into long-term instability instead became a turning point toward economic resilience and food independence.

Perhaps the most visible example was the rapid expansion of Baladna, which became the country’s largest dairy producer after thousands of cows were flown into Qatar during the blockade to ensure local milk supply.

The crisis also accelerated the implementation of the Qatar National Food Security Strategy, which focused on increasing domestic production, building strategic food reserves, and strengthening supply chain resilience.

Then came another global test.

In 2020, the pandemic forced governments around the world into one of the most defining crises of modern times. Borders closed. Economies halted. Healthcare systems were stretched to their limits.

Qatar responded with sweeping public health measures: free testing and treatment, government-supported quarantine facilities, coordinated contact tracing, and one of the region’s fastest vaccination rollouts. The state absorbed enormous healthcare costs to ensure that both citizens and residents were covered.

My husband contracted COVID-19 at the height of the crisis. Like many families, we were afraid not only of the virus but of what could follow.

Instead, what we experienced was structure.

Accommodation was arranged. Meals were provided. Medication and monitoring were systematic. Transportation was organized. We did not pay out of pocket. In a global moment defined by uncertainty and fear, we felt taken care of.

And now, as tensions once again rise in the region involving Iran, Israel, the United States, and neighboring states, residents are instructed to remain vigilant and, at times, shelter at home.

Qatar hosts Al Udeid Air Base, one of the largest US military installations in the region, placing the country within a broader regional security architecture. During periods of heightened tension, air defense systems are reinforced, civil defense protocols are activated, and communication from authorities becomes frequent and direct.

We hear the alerts.

But we also see preparedness.

It is also important to say that long before this moment of tension, Qatar has consistently ranked among the safest countries in the world. Public safety systems are strong, emergency response is coordinated, and residents — both citizens and expatriates — generally live with a sense of stability that many places struggle to maintain.

For many of us who came here simply to work and provide for our families, safety was never something we expected to become one of the reasons we stayed.

Over time, this country became more than an opportunity. It became a place where, during crisis, we felt protected and not invisible.

As a Filipina observing governance both from home and overseas, I have come to understand that public trust is rarely built through grand speeches. It is built in the everyday details of how institutions function when people need them most.

No nation is flawless. Every system has limitations. But in moments that test leadership — pandemics, blockades, regional conflict — what people remember is whether their institutions worked.

In recent days, we have also seen headlines circulating about overseas Filipino workers in Qatar being in bunk areas, or suggestions that Filipinos urgently need to fly home.

But here, on the first week of heightened regional tension, the reality is far less dramatic than those narratives suggest.

We are sheltering at home. Life has slowed. Schools and offices have adjusted. Like everyone else in the region, we feel fear and uncertainty.

But we are safe.

And more importantly, many of us trust that the systems around us are functioning as they should.

Perhaps that is the quiet lesson expatriates learn over time: when you leave home to build a future, and along the way discover that stability, preparedness, and competent governance exist where you are, those realities are sometimes what persuade you to stay. – Rappler.com

Mariz Wee is a former media practitioner from Manila, a Doha-based content creator, and a public health advocate. With a background in journalism, she works on communication and digital campaigns related to tobacco control, youth protection, and public health policies in the Philippines.