The heart of a great Filipino leader

My first encounter with the Filipino heart—its compassion and moral courage—took place just a few months before I arrived in the Philippines. It happened in Israel, on Holocaust Remembrance Day, which is marked each year in April. I was invited by the Philippine ambassador to Israel to attend a screening of “Quezon’s Game.” The film tells the story of the late President Manuel L. Quezon and the brave, principled decision he made to rescue Jews fleeing the Holocaust. When we speak about models of leadership and sources of inspiration, we speak about Quezon—about the moral clarity and courage that led to the saving of Jewish lives at humanity’s darkest hour.

That spirit has deep roots in Philippine history. One of its clearest and most courageous expressions is found in the leadership of Quezon.

In the late 1930s, as hatred spread across Europe and Jewish families were being systematically persecuted and murdered by Nazi Germany, Quezon was confronted with a moral truth that could not be ignored. Alex Frieder, a representative of the Jewish community, came to him with urgent news. Jews were being arrested. Homes were confiscated. Families were erased. They needed somewhere—anywhere—to go. They needed help. Quezon listened.

He wanted to save thousands. His vision was to bring as many as 10,000 Jewish refugees to safety. But the Philippines was still under American administration, and immigration policy was controlled from Washington. The quota granted allowed only a few hundred work visas. His advisers warned him not to challenge the system. His political future depended on American support. His health was failing. His country itself was struggling on the path toward independence.

Every option carried risk. Every decision carried consequences. Quezon reviewed lists of names. Each name represented a life. Each approval meant survival; each rejection meant almost certain death. He understood this fully. He did not see numbers. He saw human beings.

When doors remained closed, he refused to accept it.

To force the issue, Quezon took an extraordinary step. He gathered the press and publicly announced his intention to welcome Jewish refugees to the Philippines. It was a bold move—a moral declaration meant to make indifference impossible.

Behind the scenes, he negotiated relentlessly. He pressured, persuaded, and persisted. He worked with Jewish and Filipino community leaders. He built political support. He strained relationships. He pushed against limits that were never meant to be challenged. Slowly, against the odds, the door opened.

More than 1,300 Jewish men, women, and children found refuge in Manila. They rebuilt their lives. They worked, prayed, and raised families in safety. Today, nearly 8,000 descendants are alive because one Filipino leader chose not to turn away.

In Jewish tradition, saving one life is considered as saving an entire world. Quezon saved thousands of worlds.

Each year, Jan. 27 marks International Holocaust Remembrance Day—a day to honor the victims and survivors of the Holocaust and to confront the consequences of hatred and indifference. In the Philippines, it is also a day to remember a moment in history when this nation chose humanity above fear, and moral courage above convenience.

Quezon’s decision was not driven by political gain. It was shaped by moral clarity at a time when hesitation and silence dominated much of the world. He understood that leadership is not defined by avoiding risk, but by accepting responsibility when human lives are at stake.

Living and serving in the Philippines has allowed me to see that this legacy endures. It is reflected in everyday acts of kindness, in the “bayanihan” spirit, and in the instinct to help without being asked. This is the Philippines’ greatest strength—the heart of its people.

If faced with a similar moral test today, would we act as Quezon did? Would we protect our own future without abandoning others? Would we choose courage over comfort?

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This shared history forms part of the foundation of the deep and enduring friendship between Israel and the Philippines. It reminds us that true power does not come from authority alone. It comes from compassion.

This shared history also lives on in the present. On International Holocaust Remembrance Day, Israel joins the Philippines, the German embassy, and the United Nations delegation in Manila for a joint commemorative event. Together, we will screen Quezon’s Game—not only as an act of remembrance, but as a reaffirmation of the values that unite us: responsibility, courage, and the refusal to remain indifferent in the face of human suffering.

Quezon’s decision did not end with the rescue of refugees. It shaped a legacy. His moral stance became part of what is often described as an open‑door policy between the Philippines and the Jewish people—a legacy reflected today in the unique visa‑free relationship between Israel and the Philippines. It is a quiet but powerful reminder that decisions made in moments of crisis can shape relations between nations for generations.

For these reasons, I am grateful to call the Philippines—if only temporarily—my home.

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Dana Kursh is ambassador of the State of Israel to the Philippines.