The quiet exodus: Brain drain in Guam and the compensation crisis that is driving talent away

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By Samuel S. Kim

Before I sat down with a hiring manager on Guam, I had done my homework. I knew my salary expectations needed recalibrating for island life. The Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that Guam’s average hourly wage is roughly 35 percent below the national average. I accepted that. I adjusted my expectations downward and arrived at a number roughly in line with what local professionals in comparable roles earn here. I was not walking in with mainland assumptions.

The offer came in at roughly half of even that adjusted expectation—structured as a three-month contract-to-hire with no health insurance, no retirement contribution, no paid leave and no adjustment to compensate for their absence. Against my former mainland salary, it worked out to about a quarter of what I had previously earned.

I turned it down, not out of pride, but because the math did not work. A full-time position comes with real costs a household must absorb: a second vehicle, fuel at island prices, daily expenses of being away from home and hours away from family that can never be recovered. When a compensation offer does not cover even the additional expenditures required to show up, it is not an opportunity. It is a request to pay for the privilege of working.

That experience crystallized something I had been sensing. And I am far from alone.

The numbers behind the exodus

Guam’s population declined 3.5 percent between the 2010 and 2020 Census, dropping from 159,358 to 153,836. The Guam Department of Education has documented enrollment declines of 15 percent at the elementary level, 16 percent at middle schools, and 11.5 percent at high schools, with a further 3.5 percent decline projected by 2030. Families are leaving, and taking their children with them.

The wage picture is stark. Workers in Guam earned an average of $21.39 per hour in May 2024, compared to the national average of $32.66—yet Guam’s cost of living for housing, groceries, and imported goods is widely acknowledged to be higher than many mainland metro areas.

Nearly everything consumed on the island arrives by ship or air, and the price tags reflect it. The federal government itself recognizes this reality through an 11.88 percent Cost of Living Allowance for employees stationed here. Meanwhile, the island’s 3.2 percent unemployment rate masks a deeper problem: more than 55,000 working-age adults—nearly half the eligible population—have left the labor force entirely. That is not a sign of a healthy job market. It is a sign that many people have stopped looking.

On an island of 154,000 people, the departure of even a few hundred skilled professionals has cascading effects. When a senior network administrator takes a mainland offer at double the salary, the organization scrambles for months.

Every departure removes not just a worker, but a mentor, a taxpayer, a parent volunteer, a coach. And because Guam residents are U.S. citizens with unrestricted mainland access, the path from a frustrating offer in Tamuning to a competitive listing in Dallas is nothing more than a plane ticket.

It is worth noting that the contract-to-hire arrangement I was offered is not, by itself, the problem. Contract-to-hire is a legitimate staffing model. But industry standards exist for a reason. The American Staffing Association and compensation benchmarks published by SHRM and MIT Sloan consistently show that contractors should earn at or above the full-time equivalent rate—typically 1.25 to 1.5 times the base salary—to account for the absence of health insurance, retirement contributions, and paid leave. An offer at half the local market rate is not a contract-to-hire. It is a discount on human capital that no serious labor market should normalize.

Across every ethical tradition and faith, a shared principle holds: a worker’s compensation should reflect the genuine value of their labor. That principle is not sentimental. It is foundational to healthy economies and to the dignity of working people. When compensation consistently fails to meet that standard, it is not the workers who are being unreasonable—it is the market that has lost its way.

The barriers beyond wages

When traditional employment disappoints, entrepreneurship is the classic American alternative. On Guam, that path is significantly harder to walk.

Guam’s business privilege tax is levied on gross receipts—not profits—at rates of 3 to 5 percent. A business pays tax before it knows whether it has turned a profit.

Then there is the permitting process: depending on the business type, clearances may be required from up to eight separate government agencies. Many applicants hire consultants just to navigate the bureaucracy, adding thousands of dollars in startup costs before the first customer walks through the door.

In 2019, the lieutenant governor’s own task force acknowledged the process was “arduous.” In 2023, then-Sen. Dwayne San Nicolas introduced conditional business license legislation because delays were “forcing some businesses to cease operations or preventing newly established businesses from opening their doors.” Anyone who has driven past commercial spaces that have been empty for a year or more while permits work through the system has seen the evidence.

Government IT modernization—work that could employ local technical talent—faces its own challenges. The Guam Chamber of Commerce president has publicly cited “permitting and procurement issues” as key economic obstacles. Among professionals on the island, there is a widespread perception that securing government contracts depends less on demonstrated capability than on established relationships. Whether fully accurate in every case, that perception shapes behavior: skilled workers look at the timeline, look at the odds and apply for mainland jobs instead.

The outsider paradox

Professionals who relocate to Guam frequently report a reluctance to hire “outsiders.” The reasoning goes: newcomers are flight risks who will not stick around. But consider it from the other direction. A skilled professional arrives, drawn by Guam’s beauty, culture or a spouse’s military assignment. They want to put down roots. They are met with offers at a fraction of fair market value, passed over for candidates with local connections, or told in subtle ways that they are not quite trusted. So they leave. And their departure is cited as evidence that outsiders do not stay.

This is a self-fulfilling prophecy Guam cannot afford. Every newcomer with marketable skills and a genuine desire to build a life here is a potential long-term contributor—a future taxpayer, a future mentor, someone whose children will grow up calling this island home. But they can only become one if they are given the chance to earn a living that makes staying viable. Communities that thrive find a way to honor local ties while making room for new contributors. The alternative is a shrinking table with fewer people left to sit at it.

A path forward

Brain drain is not inevitable. It has known causes and proven interventions.

Employers should benchmark compensation against national averages adjusted for cost of living, not the island’s depressed wage baseline. Contract-to-hire arrangements should follow industry norms: compensation at or above full-time equivalent rates, with adjustments for benefits not provided. The 2019 permitting reform recommendations should be fully implemented, and the conditional business license concept deserves serious legislative action.

Government procurement should be transparent, timely, and awarded on demonstrated capability. Returnee incentive programs—loan forgiveness, housing assistance, tax credits—have worked in other jurisdictions facing brain drain and could work here. Employers and community organizations should actively integrate newcomers rather than treating them as temporary visitors.

Most importantly, Guam needs an honest public conversation about the relationship between compensation, business climate, and talent retention—grounded in data, guided by mutual respect, and driven by a shared commitment to the island’s future.

The silent departure

I love Guam—its sunsets, its people, its resilient spirit, its food, its faith communities. But when a professional offer communicates that your skills are worth half of what even the local market says they should be, and when starting a business means navigating a gauntlet of permits and taxes, and when the community itself views you as temporary, no matter how badly you want to stay, something shifts inside you. The question changes from “How can I make this work?” to “Why am I still here?”

That shift is happening across the island in kitchen-table conversations and late-night phone calls, in job applications submitted to mainland postings and in moving boxes stacked by the front door. It is happening quietly. That is what makes it so dangerous.

My hope—and my prayer—is that Guam will choose a different path. That employers will see fair wages as an investment, not an expense. That leaders will treat talent retention with the urgency they bring to military buildup. That the island will welcome those who want to contribute. Because the alternative—an island slowly drained of its people, unable to attract new ones, and wondering why—is a future none of us should accept.

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Samuel S. Kim is a senior technology leader with more than 20 years of experience spanning software engineering to executive oversight. He founded and scaled a 60-person R&D division in Seoul under Solariant Capital, achieving a 94 percent talent retention rate and earning national recognition including a Presidential Award for Excellence in Workplace Culture (2022) and a Work-Life Balance Excellence Award from the Korean Department of Labor (2024). He holds a BA in Economics from UCLA and currently resides on Guam with his family. He can be reached at sk102.co.

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