Investment climate is still the problem

A bank CEO must be given a medal for doing his best to look at the bright side. In small talk with some of us last Thursday evening at the wake of STAR columnist Art Borjal, this CEO said he was elated earlier in the day when his bank’s leasing company reported the sale of two units of acquired assets. The assets in question were two second hand dump trucks.

But that’s just two dump trucks, someone in the group gathered around Mr. CEO, quipped. To which the banker replied something to the effect that every little bit counts. At least, Mr. CEO explained, those are two dump trucks that will start earning for someone, creating value instead of being idle. More important, there is someone out there willing to risk good money in the hope of earning money, someone willing to invest.

Of course, for Mr. CEO, the sale of the dump trucks also liquified assets in his bank’s inventory of accounts that have gone sour with the economy. He was candid enough to admit that the level of NPLs is the biggest headache of the banking industry today. If only the property sector revives, he mused, their mood in the banking community will brighten considerably.

This brings up the question of what is keeping the investment climate cloudy? To be fair, it has brightened considerably under the watch of Ate Glo, but still not nearly enough to put a smile on the faces of businessmen and bankers. Somehow, every time it seems like we are ready to take off, the clowns we elect to represent us in Congress do something stupid to put us back to square one. That’s what we get for electing these clowns instead of statesmen.

But you have to give it to guys like Lito Camacho, who are trying very hard to keep the flood dikes from breaking up completely. His pledge to "do everything" to stay within the budget deficit target of P130 billion in 2002 is reassuring. But we can be forgiven for keeping our fingers crossed, simply because the deficit in the first four months of the year exceeded the ceiling for the first six months by nearly P13 billion. How will Lito conjure the needed miracle?

He bravely announced that "we will only spend as much as we have programmed." But how? The four-month deficit would have been higher if not for interest rates that were at historic lows. This reminds me of something an economist of a leading multinational bank said in a recent briefing that the emerging fiscal risk is a threat to a stable peso outlook and a low interest rate environment. Fixing fiscal underperformance is simply vital and of absolute necessity to improve the country’s investment outlook.

Until this climate improves, we will have to be happy every time Mr. CEO’s asset disposal team successfully unloads a couple of dump trucks. It isn’t much, but hopefully, like the first drops of rain after a long period of El Niño, it is a start.

Art Borjal

The worst thing I will remember of Art Borjal is that he kept on thinking that I was an Atenean. For years, he always introduced me as an Atenean, like himself. I’ve always corrected him that I am not an Atenean and that I studied in the public school near Ateneo. Ah, never mind, he would say, you look like you are an Atenean and sound like one. And I figure he meant well, except that my UP ego couldn’t take a compliment given in that manner.

There is one other reason why I was uneasy with Art calling me an Atenean. I was worried that it would require me to live my life according to the motto by which Art lived his life: being a man for others. The assault on my UP ego, I could take. The implied responsibility of being an Atenean like him was a bit scary. I was schooled in the take-no-prisoners, dog-eat-dog world of UP and there he is, practically challenging me to be a man for others, to give the other cheek.

But that was how Art lived his life. I first met him at Manila City Hall when he was the legal adviser of Yeba, Hizzonor Mayor Antonio J. Villegas and I was as a young reporter for ABS-CBN assigned to City Hall. His work with Mayor Villegas must have sharpened his social conscience, considering his daily exposure to poverty and human suffering.

I was not surprised to see him working as a journalist after Villegas left City Hall. Journalism has a way of attracting people who think they can change the world, or at least, make a difference. It was martial law and Art started working with columnist Doroy Valencia, a necessary compromise for the times. I imagine that kept him safe from the Marcos thugs in the intelligence service.

But when the winds of change started to blow, Art freed himself from the shackles of fear of martial law. Working with the so-called mosquito press that metamorphosed into the leading post martial law papers, Art used journalism to promote the cause of the disabled and the less fortunate.

At Art’s wake last Thursday evening, a young woman sobbed uncontrollably at his casket. No one really knew who she was. We assumed she must be one of the many faceless beneficiaries of the Good Samaritan Foundation, the humanitarian organization founded by Art. I thought that the saddest part of Art’s passing is the question, what happens now to the many beneficiaries of his good works?

I imagine those of us he left behind should step up and carry on his work. But that’s easier said than done. I am not sure any of us can duplicate the kind of devotion and commitment Art had. It is difficult to do his memory justice. This is exactly what I mean about my fear of trying to live up to the motto he internalized so well: being a man for others.

Alas, the time has come to bid farewell to a dear friend. We knew he had to go and soon. But knowing that Art wanted so much to rest after his valiant battle with cancer, the pain of losing him remains. Maybe the only way of easing this pain is to try to live as Art did, looking at life as an opportunity to serve others. That’s a tall order and carries the risk of being mistaken for an Atenean, the Art Borjal kind of Atenean.

Taxi driver

Orly Morabe sent this one.

A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him a question. The driver screamed, lost control of the car, nearly hit a bus, went up on the footpath, and stopped centimeters from a shop window.

For a second everything went quiet in the cab, then the driver said, "Look mate, don’t ever do that again. You scared the daylights out of me!"

The passenger apologized and said, "I didn’t realize that a little tap would scare you so much."

The driver replied, "Sorry, it’s not really your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver – I’ve been driving a funeral van for the last 25 years."

(Boo Chanco’s e-mail address is [email protected])