The Philippines is the second fastest growing economy in the world, second only to India. We expect most Filipinos don’t realize that their country now counts in the world—100,000,000 relatively well-educated, English-literate skillful people, probably standing with Egypt alone in one of the two most strategic positions in the world.
Then why is it the poorest of the major Asean cousins? Yes, the top 1 percent skims off too big a share: Metro Manila gets three times what its population entitles it to. There’s a more structural problem. The other big three got rich by importing technology in the form of investment—from China, the European Union, America. That brought skills, with multiplier effects; jobs, downstream technologies where minerals were extracted; thus higher consumer spending with a strong foundation.
Instead of importing technology, the Philippines has exported people, and received bounteous foreign exchange from it. It’s the worst possible strategy from an economic point of view. Only the lowest benefits are achieved, and the highest costs: broken or at least divided families, heartaches and loneliness. It’s a preposterous tradeoff.
Naturally, Filipinos are sensitive about foreigners coming in and sometimes bumptiously pushing folks around. In the 1990s, when Thailand achieved the fastest growth of any country ever, everyone complained about the ever-present Japanese faces and machinery. The smart Premier Chatichai just snapped back that the Japanese couldn’t take back to Tokyo the companies and buildings with which they’d filled Bangkok. Not even Donald Trump could have had a faster reply. The Thai now have incomes a few times higher than Filipinos, with all the consequences for education, medical care, and personal fulfillment.
Indeed, the Philippines and Thailand were at the same point in people and income in the 1960s. We can account for the difference in income by the population difference alone—30 million more mouths to feed here thanks to the lack of a population program.
Indonesia was way behind back then, economic policy being mostly loud-mouthing by founding president Sukarno. General Suharto took over on Sept. 30, 1965, and from that moment rapid growth was inexorable and compounding. True, half a million—mostly Chinese communists—got axed and, for months, Javanese rivers ran red. But to multiply an economy 10 times over in 33 years is no small achievement. Suharto ran the show, but he listened: He had some of the best economic advisers anywhere, the so-called Berkeley Mafia, all dedicated Indonesians with PhDs from the University of California.
Malaysia had a different problem. It was doing well from rubber to start with, discovered minerals to export, but most importantly started rapid industrial growth on the basis of those resources. In 1969, its racial animosities boiled over, but the Chinese running retail trade saw reason: Further growth could only come if the majority of the Malays were dealt their rightful place at the table. Malaysia was also relaxed about foreign investment, and the books were covered with blue ink on the ledgers.
The Philippine government has had all the right things to say about foreign investment. But we hope in the near future President Duterte links such positive “declaratory” policies to their reverse side: pulling in investment, rather than pushing out Filipinos. Current policies have suited the rich elite here just fine, just as the worst internet in Asia has. The rich can have their own systems. But get out of a plane in Bangkok and the backed-up downloads from, say, Batangas, instantly download. It just isn’t excusable not to have instant internet. This is a matter of policies, not just hardware.
The population here is overwhelmingly supportive of the new President. At this point, he’s been preoccupied with rubbing out drug dealers and drug mules; 780,000 potential victims have turned themselves in to avoid being on the hit list; there aren’t enough public places to house them.
Our guess is a hopeful one. World criticism of the killings has—despite his expletives against even US President Barack Obama—reached his consciousness, and conscience. He has promised to get rid of the parasitical elite. He has promised fast internet. He has shown that he grasps why the Philippines is at the bottom of the forex list abroad. The country is fearful of him and there’s little chance of opposition; he can declare martial law or just about anything. But he has a lot of catching up to do. If he could make Davao a showcase of Filipino cities, he has a chance to do the same with the whole archipelago, but he’s already learned that the two are not the same. We’re optimists—and we wish him well.
Oliver Geronilla is a language instructor based in Dasmariñas City. W. Scott Thompson served four presidents in the United States and is professor emeritus of international politics at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy in Boston.