And the Lesson of the Humble Bilum
There is an old saying in Papua New Guinea that no matter how far you travel, your shadow still knows where home is.
Around the world, migration has become one of the defining issues of our time. Some nations worry about people arriving. Others worry about people leaving. Economists count remittances. Politicians count visas. Communities count the empty chairs at family gatherings.
Perhaps we are all counting the wrong things.
Two years ago we explored the economic impact of diasporas and described what appeared to be a “black hole” – the billions of dollars flowing from one economy to another through personal remittances.
The numbers remain extraordinary.
Countries such as India, China and the Philippines receive vast sums from citizens working overseas, while many smaller nations struggle to maintain both their workforce and their economic capacity.[i]
But perhaps the story has become bigger than money.
A diaspora is more than a population scattered across the globe. It is a living network of people connected by memory, language, family and identity. The Greek origin of the word means “to scatter”, yet scattered seeds do not disappear. Given the right conditions, they grow.
That raises an important question.
Is a diaspora a black hole, swallowing talent and opportunity? Or is it a bridge, connecting nations in ways that were once impossible?
The answer depends less on migration itself than on how governments, communities and families choose to respond.
The Philippines offers one of the world’s most remarkable examples. For decades it has supported overseas Filipino workers while maintaining strong cultural, economic and family connections. Remittances remain important, but so too do the skills, professional networks and international experience that millions of Filipinos carry with them.
Their success reminds us that migration is not simply about exporting labour. It is about maintaining relationships.
The PNG Perspective
Papua New Guinea presents a different picture.
Compared with many countries, relatively few Papua New Guineans live overseas and yet it hosts a number of foreign diasporas.
Looking outward, Australia hosts the largest PNG-born community, while smaller communities have formed across New Zealand, Asia, Europe and North America. Their financial contribution through remittances is modest by global standards.
Yet measuring the PNG diaspora only in dollars misses something important.
Every Papua New Guinean working abroad becomes an ambassador of sorts.
Teachers introduce Melanesian perspectives into foreign classrooms. Engineers solve problems on international projects. Nurses and doctors demonstrate the values they learnt at home. Artists, musicians, academics and business leaders quietly reshape how the world understands Papua New Guinea.
Knowledge now travels as easily as money.
Modern technology has transformed the meaning of distance. A software developer in Brisbane, a researcher in Singapore or a pilot in Dubai can contribute ideas to Papua New Guinea before breakfast. Expertise no longer requires permanent relocation. Collaboration no longer depends on geography.
Perhaps the real question is not how many citizens leave.
Perhaps it is how many remain connected.
This is where culture has something to teach economics.
In Papua New Guinea, we understand the idea of wantok. While often translated simply as “one talk”, it means far more than speaking the same language. It describes relationships built on shared identity, mutual responsibility and belonging.
A wantok does not stop being family because they cross an international border.
The same principle applies to a nation.
If governments see their diaspora merely as workers who have departed, they risk creating the very black hole they fear. But if they see their overseas citizens as lifelong partners, investors, mentors and cultural ambassadors, something quite different emerges.
A bridge.
Bridges carry ideas in both directions.
They encourage investment.
They attract tourism.
They strengthen trade.
They connect universities, businesses and communities.
Most importantly, they remind people that leaving home does not necessarily mean leaving behind.
Guests and Homes
There is another lesson that villages have understood for generations.
When guests arrive, they are welcomed.
They are offered food, a place to sit, and often a place to sleep.
Good guests appreciate the hospitality.
They learn the customs of the household.
They show respect to their hosts.
They do not begin rearranging the furniture.
Nor do they assume that because they have been welcomed, the house now belongs to them.
They certainly do not invite dozens of relatives to move into the spare bedroom without first asking.
Hospitality is a relationship built on mutual respect.
The host has responsibilities.
So does the guest.
See it this way: perhaps a nation is simply a home shared by millions.
A country has every right to welcome newcomers.
It also has every right to expect that those who choose to make it their home will learn its language, respect its laws, understand its history and contribute positively to the society that has welcomed them.
That is not exclusion.
It is respect.
Just as visitors should not expect Papua New Guinea to abandon its customs, Papua New Guineans travelling overseas should not expect other countries to abandon theirs.
Respect, after all, travels in both directions.
Perhaps that is the strongest bridge of all.
A Final Reflection: the humble bilum
Of course, migration must be managed wisely.
Every nation has the right—and indeed the responsibility—to determine who enters its borders, under what conditions, and in what numbers.
Equally, governments must create opportunities that encourage their own citizens to build rewarding lives at home. These are matters of public policy, and reasonable people will often disagree about the best path.
But commentators have a different role.
Our task is not simply to count people crossing borders.
It is to understand what those movements mean.
History tells us that people have always travelled. Traders crossed seas long before passports existed. Sailors carried languages between islands. Missionaries, labourers, merchants and adventurers all left footprints far from where they were born.
Migration itself is not new.
What is new is our ability to remain connected.
Perhaps that is the greatest opportunity of the twenty-first century.
Papua New Guinea has never lacked talented people. What it has sometimes lacked are the bridges that allow talent to flow home again—in the form of ideas, experience, investment and inspiration.
A nation is not diminished because some of its people travel.
It is diminished only when they cease to belong.
There is another lesson hidden in the humble bilum.
A bilum is woven from hundreds of individual strands. Remove one strand and the bilum remains strong. Remove many, and eventually it weakens.
Yet every strand can also be woven back into the whole.
The strength of the bilum has never depended on keeping every fibre in one place.
It has always depended on how well they remain connected.
Perhaps the same is true of a nation.
The challenge is not preventing people from leaving.
The challenge is ensuring they always remain part of the fabric of the nation.
Just like the humble bilum, our strength has never depended on keeping every strand in one place.
It has always depended on how well they remain woven together.
Kora – Another way of seeing.
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Direction and editing by Glenn Armstrong
© 2026
[i] https://smartshopper-png.blogspot.com/2024/06/diaspora-black-hole.html
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