(I was initially hesitant to meet up with Cesar Buenaventura. I remember interviewing him when I was a young reporter during the time of President Aquino and I thought he was this pompous, impatient know-it-all. I am so glad I agreed to meet with him for this conversation. Sixteen years later, I found this man who touched me with his wisdom and his true concern for the Philippines and the youth. He was curious about how someone young -- me -- felt about things concering the nation and my family, probably because he has seen so many wasted opportunities around him. I was teary eyed when he talked about his last lunch with his best friend, Jimmy Ongpin. I wish that Cesar Buenaventura's lessons would not be wasted on my generation.)
Corporate history is filled with stories of men constantly outdoing themselves to build the enterprises that would be the bedrock of the Philippine economy; of winners rewriting the rules and conduct of business; of thinkers and doers whose work would leave a permanent imprint on the face of Philippine business.
In many of these stories, the name of Cesar Buenaventura invariably comes up. Belonging to that generation of men who witnessed the country shake off the ravages of war to become Asia’s wealthiest, only to stumble later on to economic perdition, Buenaventura has the wisdom of the years and the insight that comes with having taken a personal stake in the writing of these stories.
Twenty-six years ago, Buenaventura, then president of Pilipinas Shell, was asked by bosom friend Enrique Zobel to become chairman of the board of advisers of the fledgling Makati Business Club. The bombastic Zobel had just delivered a speech categorizing the wealthy into three groups – the “profligate rich, the idle rich and the working rich” – vilifying those who chose to stay indifferent to the decay around them, and at the same time exhorting the rest to speak up on matters that concerned the nation. For Buenaventura, it was not a difficult decision. The year was 1981, and Philippines had already earned the reputation as the sick man of Asia. Poverty and despair gnawed at the social fiber of the country, yet the government was too absorbed in its own political affairs to care about the majority. The private sector had to speak up for the Philippines in one voice.
Not one to compromise objectivity out of fear or favor, MBC never curried the favor of any administration, from President Marcos down to President Arroyo. Buenaventura remembers the MBC squarely taking on the Marcos government when it spoke up against the 11 mega-projects of the administration. Back then, it was almost a taboo to question or criticize the government, which was known to be heavy-handed in dealing with its critics. Ironically, first to speak up and most vocal against the projects was Jimmy Ongpin, then president of Benguet Corporation and brother of Bobby Ongpin, who happened to be the trade secretary and main proponent of the projects. A friend of the Ongpins to the end, Buenaventura laughs on remembering Bobby asking him to please tell Jimmy to stop criticizing and to show support for Marcos and his projects.
Buenaventura’s association with the MBC and the individuals who would play pivotal roles in recent Philippine history brought him closer to many realities that he would not have appreciated from the confines of his office.
To this day, Buenaventura calls himself a “disciple of Ninoy Aquino” after seeing him undergo a “Gandhi-like transformation” in the years following his incarceration. “I would have followed him to the gates of hell,” he said, remembering the man whose life inspired him to do more for his country than fate would have allowed him to do.
Educated by the CICM sisters in Baguio, the young Buenaventura wanted to become a doctor but was prevailed upon by his father to become an engineer instead. In the 1940s, he was admitted to the University of the Philippines – a “heresy” for his former CICM teachers who expected him to go to a Catholic university instead. But egalitarian UP was the best that could happen to the teenage Buenaventura. Rich and poor, elitists and provincianos, came to learn about engineering and experience the joys of youth at the state university, paying little mind to the fact that by the end of their freshmen year, a third of the class would have disappeared. Due to UP’s strict winnowing process, completing engineering in the prescribed four years was an accomplishment in itself. Buenaventura was all too happy to be among the 25 students who finished college on time, and eventually moved on to place in the engineering boards.
Upon graduation, Buenaventura first worked with David Consunji, then a young entrepreneur who had just started his construction business. The two would eventually strike up a friendship that would last more than six decades, and would build an empire that would help change the Philippines’ metropolitan landscape. “I was Dave’s first employee,” Buenaventura recalls. “I remember that we had one pick-up, one mixer, and one driver. We couldn’t even get to the front door of AG&P. Our payroll was between P10,000 to P15,000 a week. We built houses and labs.”
Buenaventura eventually snagged a Fulbright scholarship, and went to the United States for his master’s degree, before becoming an engineering professor. He helped build the Walt Whitman bridge in Philadelphia, and though life in the United States was good, “I always dreamed of going back to the Philippines. I was expected to come home.”
Professionals who went to the US were usually expected to join government on their return, and almost always rose up the ranks, as in the case of Public Works Secretaries Buencamino and Dans. Civil servants, in the days before the war, were highly respected by the public for their competence and integrity. Buenaventura, along with Jimmy Ongpin, were among the first professionals to come back to join the private sector. He readily rejoined Consunji upon his return, and helped build the U.P. Chapel. “I remember I would pick up Lindy (Locsin) in my Volks. He couldn’t make up his mind then if he would be an architect or a pianist.” The U.P. Chapel was finished in 1955, and the joy Buenaventura felt on its completion was only erased when the beloved UP Chaplain, Fr. Delaney, passed away ten days after the chapel was opened.
In 1956, when cars had a sticker price of P6,000 and the exchange rate stood at P2-$1, Shell offered Buenaventura a job. Compensation would be P800 during executive training and P1,200 after the training phase. This dwarfed the P400 he got
from Consunji and the P400 that UP would have given him as an assistant professor.
Moving to Shell was an easy choice. It would be his corporate home from then on, being named as its president at age 45, and moving on to become chairman of the Shell Foundation following his 15-year stint as company president.
Shell acquainted Buenaventura with some of the biggest industrialists in the Philippines, among them Enrique Zobel, whose family partnered with Shell in building a refinery. Over time, Buenaventura and Zobel struck a deep friendship, one rooted in respect for each other’s competence and made stronger by their shared values, especially in matters that pertain to people. He still remembers clearing a road strike in 1966, when militant laborers closed down the Pandacan depot, and especially cherishes the lessons learned from it.
Shell also allowed Buenaventura the opportunity to tap the Philippines’ potentials as a source of petroleum. It was a difficult venture, starting off with a failed exploration that cost Shell some $150 million. “I remember apologizing to the Managing Director in London. He told me, Cesar, don’t feel bad about it. For every sixty holes that Shell dug, only one would contain oil, but that single hole will be able to answer for the cost of digging the other 59,” he recalls.
Fortunately, the chastened Buenaventura never let go of his dream to plumb the Philippines’ waters for prized petroleum. Eventually, his efforts would lead to the discovery of Camago and later on, Malampaya. Shell ended up spending over $2 billion to build the Malampaya pipeline, and today, Malampaya is an important contributor to the Philippines’ energy needs.
Beyond these, Shell allowed Buenaventura to take a direct hand in molding many young minds to create globally productive citizens and workers. “In Shell, we developed a cadre of professionals that shows that the Filipino can do it,” he said, reciting the names of Shell homegrown talent (Ed Chua and Ely Santiago, to name a few) who have made their mark globally for their competence and hard work. In fact, he is proudest of the fact that he has “left a group of people trained to take over and with long term careers, and who could rise beyond being president of this company.”
On leaving Shell, Buenaventura decided to go into consultancy, drawing upon his vast experience sitting on the boards of First Holdings, AIG, Ayala Corporation, and Benguet Corporation. He formed the BPE Partnership, which would combined his expertise and experience, along with those of his brothers Rafael (formerly the Bangko Sentral governor) and Linda Echauz.
This was when Consunji again crossed Buenaventura’s path. Now 73, Consunji presided over the largest construction company in the Philippines but had not yet addressed succession issues. Buenaventura saw the opportunity to set matters straight for his buddy. “I told him, ‘Dave, you should take your company public. You don’t really want quarrelling cousins in your board, do you?’”
With Buenaventura as advisor, DMCI Holdings went public in 19--, a step that would not just strengthen DMCI’s financial and corporate structure, but would once again reunite the two old friends in a single company. Eventually, “Dave said ‘now that you’ve taken me public, help me run this company.’” Buenaventura said yes to Consunji and to an extension of his corporate career.
Flush with cash, Buenaventura and Consunji decided it was time for DMCI to buy out AG&P, a move that would consolidate the operations of the two giants. It was, after all, the heyday of construction, and the friends were proud to conquer the company that once towered above theirs. Their timing, though, could not have been worse. Shortly after the purchase, the Asian financial crisis unraveled, bringing AG&P, by now found out to be worth no more than a shell, to its knees. Worse, it had an army of regular workers and no projects.
Consunji entrusted Buenaventura with the task of running AG&P, which went into receivership to pave the way for its eventual restructuring. The rehabilitation process was difficult, but Buenaventura once more rose to the challenge, reengineering AG&P to specialize in the hook-up, commissioning and fabrication of steel structures. Today, AG&P is again a proud and mighty company with 4,000 workers dispatched all over the world.
If Shell taught Buenaventura the value of harnessing the talents of people, AG&P taught him the importance of relating to them as human beings. “The most unpredictable commodity is not money and materials, but manpower,” he stated. “You need to share with workers so they don’t feel exploited. You have to make them proud of the company. You should not treat them as commodity.” In fact, he reveals, AG&P provides its people with meals three times a day, with no limit to the food they can consume. As a result, people are happy. “They feel well taken care of and they have pride in their work,” he says, as he unabashedly proclaims “I am very proud of AG&P.” In fact, he tells Consunji over and over again that he wishes DMCI would not let go of AG&P.
He perfectly understands, however, that there is a time to let go, and for Buenaventura, the time to wind down is now. “I’ve let go of AIM, of UP, and will soon let go of MBC. BEP has young people running it. We’re in the process of disposing of AG&P – at a profit, of course,” he ticks off. Of course, he will still help out DMCI in policy matters, plus there is still the Shell Foundation. Now that it has come very close to eradicating malaria in Palawan, thanks to the efforts of volunteers, Buenaventura will still have to keep close reins on its operations.
Besides, he says, “retiring does not mean letting go completely.” At 76, “I am still interested and can still contribute. I will help in the nature of what I’ve been doing in the last 58 years.” What matters the most, Buenaventura reckons, is that “I enjoy what I’m doing.” And for corporate Philippines, this is what truly matters. //
Showing posts with label Makati Business Club. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Makati Business Club. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Friday, June 8, 2007
Persons I Admire Series: Patricio Lim
(Published in the Philippine Business Magazine, January 2006. I interviewed these five men in between my stints at BusinessWorld and BusinessMirror)
Experience is a great teacher. There is no exchanging what one gains through the years with what one learns from books. As time passes, even as technology and new learnings bring about change, one discovers that some themes remain constant-the importance of succession planning, the value of education, the strength of partnerships, the rewards of entrepreneurship, the meaning of integrity.
Patricio L. Lim, 90, was constant in his perseverance and dedication to duty in all his endeavors Simply "P.L." to his friends, he belongs to a generation known as much for their hard work as their valor, a generation that built the country and refused to put up with inanities that would otherwise destroy it.
For Lim, who peddled clothes along San Vicente Street in turn-of-the-century Manila and lived above a goldsmith's shop, time is relative. His perception and view of time is very Chinese, extending beyond his grandchildren's lifetimes.
Not Just Doing Business
Indeed, when the 30-year-old Lim decided to quit being a medicine salesman for Zuellig to open a textile mill with equity from a friend, he was not looking at building a mere business. When he established a garments business to serve the retailers of the world, opened a carpet factory to serve the global markets, and built a world-class hotel (The Peninsula Manila, which forever changed the Makati cityscape), he did so with the knowledge that he was helping build the Philippines. He was fulfilling his generation's dream of building a nation, and carving his own legacy.
Universal Textile Mills began operating in 1953. It was the first and, at its prime, the largest integrated woven textile mill in the country, providing thousands of jobs to Filipino workers.
The Philippine Carpet Manufacturing Corporation was established in 1965 with 60 skilled employees trained by Chinese weavers in the traditional art of making fine handcrafted carpets. Today, the company has 444 craftsmen in its employ and is affiliated with the biggest and most prestigious suppliers of handmade carpets in Asia, Australia, Europe, and the U.S.
The Peninsula Manila opened in 1976 in time for the big annual meeting of the board of governors of the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank held in Manila that year.
Astute and Generous
Lim is a totally self-made man whose success can be attributed not only to incredible luck and hard work but also to an astute business sense and keen understanding of the business environment and the men and women who run it. He had his ears to the ground, such that he was able to adequately prepare his companies for the ravages of the Asian financial crisis in the late '90s. Because he preferred to finance most everything from manufacturing operations, the firms (with the one exception of The Peninsula) were free from debt when the peso plummeted. His strong adherence to that simple belief-one that financial managers would have earlier scoffed at-saved his companies from collapsing, as was the fate of debt-saddled business during that period.
P.L. Lim has always taken pride in helping countless families by doing the noble thing-providing employment. In fact, even as he complains of a failing memory, he is quick to come up with the current headcount of employees of the PLLIM Group of Companies: 3,000. His ability to create goodwill is tremendous, and yes, he loves the country dearly. "The Philippines gave me what China did not," he states.
Passing the Baton
Today, at 90, P.L. Lim is proud to have bequeathed the enterprises he built to his children. "I worked very hard before. I was involved until I was 80, so now, it is time for me to rest," he says. He always believed in hiring professional managers to oversee the business, but it is a big source of pride that the most accomplished of these managers include his own children. Although he remains chairman and president of the holding company PLLIM Investments Inc., his son, David, is now at the helm of their various business interests and sits as president of the enterprises in their group of companies. His daughter, Evelyn Lim-Forbes, is in charge of the companies' day-to-day operations as general manager. He is pleased that his children have built up what he started. "My children are running the companies very well. They understand what the business needs. I leave everything to them now, and they are doing better than me!" declares Lim, who now chooses to spend precious time in the company of his wife, Madeleine, and playing a round of golf twice a week ("with a cart," he qualifies).
Yet he remains strong and hardy, save for a bad back, and his appetite is still hearty. "I'm already 90, I was only good until I was 80," he laughs. He then motions one to look at his face and declares, "Look, no wrinkles!"
P.L. Lim still laughs a lot. He prays often and is still full of hope. He remembers friends, taking time to visit their homes or cheer them up in the hospital when they are sick, and cherishes mementos received from dear ones. He has lived a full life, and is proud to have made himself a part of others'.
Experience is a great teacher. There is no exchanging what one gains through the years with what one learns from books. As time passes, even as technology and new learnings bring about change, one discovers that some themes remain constant-the importance of succession planning, the value of education, the strength of partnerships, the rewards of entrepreneurship, the meaning of integrity.
Patricio L. Lim, 90, was constant in his perseverance and dedication to duty in all his endeavors Simply "P.L." to his friends, he belongs to a generation known as much for their hard work as their valor, a generation that built the country and refused to put up with inanities that would otherwise destroy it.
For Lim, who peddled clothes along San Vicente Street in turn-of-the-century Manila and lived above a goldsmith's shop, time is relative. His perception and view of time is very Chinese, extending beyond his grandchildren's lifetimes.
Not Just Doing Business
Indeed, when the 30-year-old Lim decided to quit being a medicine salesman for Zuellig to open a textile mill with equity from a friend, he was not looking at building a mere business. When he established a garments business to serve the retailers of the world, opened a carpet factory to serve the global markets, and built a world-class hotel (The Peninsula Manila, which forever changed the Makati cityscape), he did so with the knowledge that he was helping build the Philippines. He was fulfilling his generation's dream of building a nation, and carving his own legacy.
Universal Textile Mills began operating in 1953. It was the first and, at its prime, the largest integrated woven textile mill in the country, providing thousands of jobs to Filipino workers.
The Philippine Carpet Manufacturing Corporation was established in 1965 with 60 skilled employees trained by Chinese weavers in the traditional art of making fine handcrafted carpets. Today, the company has 444 craftsmen in its employ and is affiliated with the biggest and most prestigious suppliers of handmade carpets in Asia, Australia, Europe, and the U.S.
The Peninsula Manila opened in 1976 in time for the big annual meeting of the board of governors of the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank held in Manila that year.
Astute and Generous
Lim is a totally self-made man whose success can be attributed not only to incredible luck and hard work but also to an astute business sense and keen understanding of the business environment and the men and women who run it. He had his ears to the ground, such that he was able to adequately prepare his companies for the ravages of the Asian financial crisis in the late '90s. Because he preferred to finance most everything from manufacturing operations, the firms (with the one exception of The Peninsula) were free from debt when the peso plummeted. His strong adherence to that simple belief-one that financial managers would have earlier scoffed at-saved his companies from collapsing, as was the fate of debt-saddled business during that period.
P.L. Lim has always taken pride in helping countless families by doing the noble thing-providing employment. In fact, even as he complains of a failing memory, he is quick to come up with the current headcount of employees of the PLLIM Group of Companies: 3,000. His ability to create goodwill is tremendous, and yes, he loves the country dearly. "The Philippines gave me what China did not," he states.
Passing the Baton
Today, at 90, P.L. Lim is proud to have bequeathed the enterprises he built to his children. "I worked very hard before. I was involved until I was 80, so now, it is time for me to rest," he says. He always believed in hiring professional managers to oversee the business, but it is a big source of pride that the most accomplished of these managers include his own children. Although he remains chairman and president of the holding company PLLIM Investments Inc., his son, David, is now at the helm of their various business interests and sits as president of the enterprises in their group of companies. His daughter, Evelyn Lim-Forbes, is in charge of the companies' day-to-day operations as general manager. He is pleased that his children have built up what he started. "My children are running the companies very well. They understand what the business needs. I leave everything to them now, and they are doing better than me!" declares Lim, who now chooses to spend precious time in the company of his wife, Madeleine, and playing a round of golf twice a week ("with a cart," he qualifies).
Yet he remains strong and hardy, save for a bad back, and his appetite is still hearty. "I'm already 90, I was only good until I was 80," he laughs. He then motions one to look at his face and declares, "Look, no wrinkles!"
P.L. Lim still laughs a lot. He prays often and is still full of hope. He remembers friends, taking time to visit their homes or cheer them up in the hospital when they are sick, and cherishes mementos received from dear ones. He has lived a full life, and is proud to have made himself a part of others'.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
People I Admire Series: Washington SyCip
Washington SyCip, 84, was instrumental in the decision of Accenture, Texas Instruments, and Timex to come to the Philippines He has spent much of the last 30 years of his life observing the economies of Asia, watching agricultural fiefdoms grow into industrial empires, and seeing them integrate seamlessly into knowledge-based economies. Twenty years after he retired from SGV & Co., the country's top accounting firm that he founded in 1946, he continues to keep a full schedule, starting work before 7:00 a.m. Only this time, it is not the affairs of the firm that keep him busy, but the concerns of the country.
Insight of the years
Having watched the country's decline from the sidelines all these years, SyCip, now 84, has been actively doing his bit for the country through various organizations, contributing what someone of his stature can best dispense-the insight of the years. It is not without bitterness when he notes how the Philippines has somehow found itself stuck in its present development path, its people losing their head start and never really benefiting from their multicultural past.
SyCip, "Wash" to his friends, knows exactly how and when the country's slide to mediocrity started: when the educational system began to deteriorate. "If the public school system is bad, then you further widen the gap between the rich and the poor," contends SyCip, a proud product of the Philippine public school system. It was not too long ago when the country's public schools produced many of the country's best minds. A poor scholar, thus, had as much opportunity for employment after graduation as his wealthier classmate. Education was the great opportunity-builder, everyman's springboard to a decent life.
But the exigencies of poverty somehow forced a change in the country's priorities and the focus on education gave way to the more pressing needs of the fast-growing population. Per capita spending on education went down, resulting in a deterioration of the educational system. "Today, nobody dreams of sending his children to public schools," he notes.
Moreover, meager resources for basic education are going into spending for state colleges and universities. While acknowledging the importance of tertiary education, SyCip points out what every parent with a school-age child knows. "You must have children finishing sixth grade before high school and college. However, if there is no money to send the children through grade school, then how are they to move on to high school?"
From his meetings with various groups across the country, SyCip is still able to quote statistics straight out of his memory. In Mindanao, he says, where he met with at least three Muslim groups, only 3 of 10 children who enter grade one finish the elementary grades. Apparently, the predicament is the same in other parts of the country. SyCip, who himself has made the trek to the trash heaps of Payatas, has seen this situation firsthand. Another statistic that disturbs him is that at least 75% of students flunk government-administered examinations. "What a waste of resources!" he laments.
For SyCip, one can never overemphasize the value of developing a country's human resources. "Whether it's a country or a firm, the key to success is through human resources. I see this throughout the world," he says, marveling at how former Malaysian prime minister Mahathir Mohamad managed to extricate his country from poverty and push it into the growth path using education as an enabler.
It is not surprising, then, that Mahathir belongs to the elite group of men that SyCip admires. "For Mahathir, education is key, so he poured money into education despite the country's low income. To my mind, the measurement of success is how to bring the bottom group up," declares SyCip. He further points out that Malaysia has done wonders to its economy through its fairly authoritarian system. There is, for instance, no bidding for infrastructure projects in Malaysia, in direct contrast to the Philippines, where the private sector bids for projects. Despite the supposed transparency that bidding promotes, the Philippines obviously lags behind Malaysia where infrastructural development is concerned. "Infrastructure, if properly done, benefits the bottom group," says SyCip. But, he qualifies, "you will need an honest government."
It is Singapore's Lee Kwan Yew, however, who he admires the most. "To say that democracy works in a poor country is a farce," SyCip remarks. The success of countries in East Asia, he points out, owes to the fact that they were politically authoritative yet enjoyed economic freedom. That the Philippines embraced Western-style democracy is one of SyCip's regrets. In fact, he says, if he has one regret in life, it is that "I should have earlier convinced people that Western democracy doesn't work in a poor country. It must come naturally." He believes that a stable political environment is key to the stability of any company. "For any firm to do well, the country must also do well," he points out. Unfortunately, "everything here is not conducive to a growing economy."
A Growing Legacy
Despite these letdowns, however, there are a whole lot of other things that SyCip is proud of. He is proud that in the last 40 years he has established partnerships in various countries to make SGV grow. He is proud that SGV has produced "very good technocrats" from among its managing partners and that many of them have gone on to help build corporate Philippines. He also takes pride in having been part of many organizations-among them, the Asian Institute of Management, the Makati Business Club, the Management Association of the Philippines, and the Philippine Business for Social Progress-and helping build these organizations to be what they are today.
Most importantly, he is proud of how he has helped the Philippines develop its manpower through the companies he encouraged to set up shop in the country. In 1985, for instance, he insisted that Accenture-an international management consulting, technology services, and outsourcing company-expand to the Philippines, against the advice of others. Today, Accenture's success here is one that many others try to emulate. SyCip was also instrumental in the entry into the country of Texas Instruments-today the largest exporter of computer chips in the Philippines-and watch company Timex. "I could have done more if the environment was better," he rues.
The country's setbacks notwithstanding, there is no stopping SyCip from finding ways to help out. In his office, a prominently displayed collection of owl and turtle figurines catches one's attention. He laughs when asked about the turtle collection, pointing to a Chinese painting showing a man talking to a turtle. The man, he explains, is asking the turtle his secret to having a long life, and the turtle's reply is that all the man has to do is take it easy.
Obviously, SyCip has not taken the turtle's counsel to heart. His calendar is full and he is rarely in his office. But by doing just the opposite, he has reaped the same rewards. He has been blessed with a long life, long enough to see the fruits of his hard work, and certainly, he continues to enjoy what he is doing.
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Insight of the years
Having watched the country's decline from the sidelines all these years, SyCip, now 84, has been actively doing his bit for the country through various organizations, contributing what someone of his stature can best dispense-the insight of the years. It is not without bitterness when he notes how the Philippines has somehow found itself stuck in its present development path, its people losing their head start and never really benefiting from their multicultural past.
SyCip, "Wash" to his friends, knows exactly how and when the country's slide to mediocrity started: when the educational system began to deteriorate. "If the public school system is bad, then you further widen the gap between the rich and the poor," contends SyCip, a proud product of the Philippine public school system. It was not too long ago when the country's public schools produced many of the country's best minds. A poor scholar, thus, had as much opportunity for employment after graduation as his wealthier classmate. Education was the great opportunity-builder, everyman's springboard to a decent life.
But the exigencies of poverty somehow forced a change in the country's priorities and the focus on education gave way to the more pressing needs of the fast-growing population. Per capita spending on education went down, resulting in a deterioration of the educational system. "Today, nobody dreams of sending his children to public schools," he notes.
Moreover, meager resources for basic education are going into spending for state colleges and universities. While acknowledging the importance of tertiary education, SyCip points out what every parent with a school-age child knows. "You must have children finishing sixth grade before high school and college. However, if there is no money to send the children through grade school, then how are they to move on to high school?"
From his meetings with various groups across the country, SyCip is still able to quote statistics straight out of his memory. In Mindanao, he says, where he met with at least three Muslim groups, only 3 of 10 children who enter grade one finish the elementary grades. Apparently, the predicament is the same in other parts of the country. SyCip, who himself has made the trek to the trash heaps of Payatas, has seen this situation firsthand. Another statistic that disturbs him is that at least 75% of students flunk government-administered examinations. "What a waste of resources!" he laments.
For SyCip, one can never overemphasize the value of developing a country's human resources. "Whether it's a country or a firm, the key to success is through human resources. I see this throughout the world," he says, marveling at how former Malaysian prime minister Mahathir Mohamad managed to extricate his country from poverty and push it into the growth path using education as an enabler.
It is not surprising, then, that Mahathir belongs to the elite group of men that SyCip admires. "For Mahathir, education is key, so he poured money into education despite the country's low income. To my mind, the measurement of success is how to bring the bottom group up," declares SyCip. He further points out that Malaysia has done wonders to its economy through its fairly authoritarian system. There is, for instance, no bidding for infrastructure projects in Malaysia, in direct contrast to the Philippines, where the private sector bids for projects. Despite the supposed transparency that bidding promotes, the Philippines obviously lags behind Malaysia where infrastructural development is concerned. "Infrastructure, if properly done, benefits the bottom group," says SyCip. But, he qualifies, "you will need an honest government."
It is Singapore's Lee Kwan Yew, however, who he admires the most. "To say that democracy works in a poor country is a farce," SyCip remarks. The success of countries in East Asia, he points out, owes to the fact that they were politically authoritative yet enjoyed economic freedom. That the Philippines embraced Western-style democracy is one of SyCip's regrets. In fact, he says, if he has one regret in life, it is that "I should have earlier convinced people that Western democracy doesn't work in a poor country. It must come naturally." He believes that a stable political environment is key to the stability of any company. "For any firm to do well, the country must also do well," he points out. Unfortunately, "everything here is not conducive to a growing economy."
A Growing Legacy
Despite these letdowns, however, there are a whole lot of other things that SyCip is proud of. He is proud that in the last 40 years he has established partnerships in various countries to make SGV grow. He is proud that SGV has produced "very good technocrats" from among its managing partners and that many of them have gone on to help build corporate Philippines. He also takes pride in having been part of many organizations-among them, the Asian Institute of Management, the Makati Business Club, the Management Association of the Philippines, and the Philippine Business for Social Progress-and helping build these organizations to be what they are today.
Most importantly, he is proud of how he has helped the Philippines develop its manpower through the companies he encouraged to set up shop in the country. In 1985, for instance, he insisted that Accenture-an international management consulting, technology services, and outsourcing company-expand to the Philippines, against the advice of others. Today, Accenture's success here is one that many others try to emulate. SyCip was also instrumental in the entry into the country of Texas Instruments-today the largest exporter of computer chips in the Philippines-and watch company Timex. "I could have done more if the environment was better," he rues.
The country's setbacks notwithstanding, there is no stopping SyCip from finding ways to help out. In his office, a prominently displayed collection of owl and turtle figurines catches one's attention. He laughs when asked about the turtle collection, pointing to a Chinese painting showing a man talking to a turtle. The man, he explains, is asking the turtle his secret to having a long life, and the turtle's reply is that all the man has to do is take it easy.
Obviously, SyCip has not taken the turtle's counsel to heart. His calendar is full and he is rarely in his office. But by doing just the opposite, he has reaped the same rewards. He has been blessed with a long life, long enough to see the fruits of his hard work, and certainly, he continues to enjoy what he is doing.
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Monday, May 8, 2006
People I Admire Series: Vicente Paterno
(During this interview, what struck me about Vicente Paterno was how he seemed to be enjoying retirement. I couldn't help but think that when I grow old, I want to be just as peaceful and contented as he is.)
The year he turned 55, Vicente Paterno underwent the big transformation from technocrat to entrepreneur. This change would allow him to redefine Philippine retailing.
The year was 1980, and Paterno had just decided to leave government after an extended stay, first as Board of Investments head (he replaced Cesar Virata when the latter moved on to become prime minister) and then as trade minister. "Too old to join the corporate world, but too young to take it easy," Paterno thought of setting up his own business. Fortuitously, his close friend and brother-in-law, Jose Pardo, was also set to quit Bancom, one of the largest investment banks at that time. It was a good opportunity to work together. Paterno's and Pardo's criteria in choosing a business were fairly simple. First, the business had to have no links with the government, whether in the form of licenses or loans. Two, it had to be in a format that was unique and new to the Philippine market. Lastly, it had to benefit from Western technology. In the end, there were just two options-agriculture or retailing. They opted for the latter.
Filling the Retail Gap
Back then, convenience stores were unknown in the country. The retail scene was not keeping up with the changing needs and lifestyles of Filipino consumers, who had to make do with what the neighborhood sari-sari store had to offer. Paterno recognized the gap and decided to bring the convenience store concept to the Philippines. In 1982, Paterno's Philippine Seven Corporation signed a license agreement with Southland Corporation, which granted him the franchise to open 7-Eleven stores in the country. With no more than P5 million in capital (the exchange rate was P14/US$), the company prepared to open two stores.
It turned out to be the worst time to open the stores. Not long after they did, opposition leader Benigno Aquino Jr. was assassinated, throwing the Philippine economy into chaos. By then, another friend, Jorge Araneta, had joined Paterno and Pardo. "We assessed the situation, but we had already gone so far. We had reached the point of no return," recalls Paterno. Unfortunately, the fledgling company was very short on capital and had to expand out of profits. Two stores, however, were not enough to generate the needed funds, so it was a Catch-22 situation.
The company struggled on until after the EDSA Revolution, when consumer spending and investor sentiment improved. The group then struck an agreement with Philamlife. The latter agreed to build stores to be run by the Paterno group in exchange for rental fees and a percentage of sales.
Even then, the business's viability remained under question, so Paterno and Pardo called on other friends, among them, Manuel Agustines of Ramcar, Benjamin de Leon of National Life, Alfred Ramos of National Bookstore, and Dante Santos of Philacor. With the additional funding, 7-Eleven stores slowly branched out to more consumers across the metropolis.
Turning the Corner
It was a slow, steady ride for the company. After it opened its eighth store, Philippine Seven turned the corner. Philamlife became an equity investor, after which the company, now a real estate and an operating firm, went on expansion mode.
In 1998, the company, with 100 stores to its name, tapped the capital markets for additional funding via an initial public offering of its shares. A bond component also allowed it to secure foreign funding.
It was a good time for the business and for Paterno, but all the success was brought into proper focus with the discovery that Paterno had cancer. "Cancer brings you to terms with your mortality," he says. "I realized I had to prepare, to put things in order." Although he emerged victorious in the fight against the disease, he made sure that Philippine Seven was slowly weaned away from him. "I told myself, Paterno, you're 75, it's not fair anymore. I could keel over anytime and I had no succession plan."
Taiwanese Partners
Paterno saw an opportunity in the then-proposed Foreign Investments Law. The law allowed foreign ownership of less than 51% in retailing under certain conditions. "This was 1999, and I could already see it coming," he says. Towards the end of that year, Paterno went to Taiwan to meet with 7-Eleven officers and offer them a 30% stake in Philippine Seven. "I told them we needed new company management, new technology." 7-Eleven Taiwan, however, wanted more than that, and in August the next year, tendered an offer for 50.4% of the company. Some of the equity partners cashed out, but Paterno and the founding shareholders decided to stay on for the joint venture with 7-Eleven Taiwan.
7-Eleven Taiwan brought more robust systems and its retailing culture to the Philippine franchise, all of which would contribute to the continued strength of the stores even in the face of stiff competition from other convenience store chains. The assimilation was so thorough that after five years of Taiwanese management, the reins were again turned over to the Filipino partners, this time, to Paterno's son Victor, who became company president. Paterno, meanwhile, stayed on as chairman, for a sense of continuity. As of September 2005, there were 256 7-Eleven stores nationwide.
"The idea of localization was timely," relates Paterno, noting that "morale went up." The cultural differences between the Filipino employees and the Taiwanese management could have prevented the optimization of employee morale. Nevertheless, Paterno says the entry of the Taiwanese partners was necessary. "We had grown from a very small operation. We were a small company for 10 to 15 years, but we needed change," he explains.
Life Decisions
Paterno reveals that the most difficult decision he had made was the one to quit Meralco to join the government. A government job meant getting just a third of his Meralco salary and giving up all the other perks. He could have also taken a World Bank posting in Washington, but "we had to make a decision for our children. What was it that the children would have wanted us to do? We wanted them raised here, but we also wanted them to have a foreign education to keep their options open. If we leave, we would be giving up on the Philippines."
Now, with the children all grown and the stint in government and business over, Paterno is a contented man. He has told his son Victor that "I won't do anything for the company unless you ask me" and is happy with going to store inaugurations and joining monthly performance reviews. At 80, his happiness now revolves around photography. There is, of course, the livelihood program that he runs in Mindanao for small businesses. He still speaks proudly of the time he won the Management Association of the Philippines award for integrity with the late Jaime Ongpin, one of his closest friends, and of the Foreign Investments Law, which he authored. "Even Nathaniel Santiago [one of the Philippine Left's leading personalities] said it was okay," says Paterno.
Of course, he also remembers his frustrations as a legislator and as a citizen. But all in all, he is happy with his life's decisions. Sums up Paterno, "I don't think that there were major decisions that were wrong in their time. You are what you are, the situation is what it is."
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The year he turned 55, Vicente Paterno underwent the big transformation from technocrat to entrepreneur. This change would allow him to redefine Philippine retailing.
The year was 1980, and Paterno had just decided to leave government after an extended stay, first as Board of Investments head (he replaced Cesar Virata when the latter moved on to become prime minister) and then as trade minister. "Too old to join the corporate world, but too young to take it easy," Paterno thought of setting up his own business. Fortuitously, his close friend and brother-in-law, Jose Pardo, was also set to quit Bancom, one of the largest investment banks at that time. It was a good opportunity to work together. Paterno's and Pardo's criteria in choosing a business were fairly simple. First, the business had to have no links with the government, whether in the form of licenses or loans. Two, it had to be in a format that was unique and new to the Philippine market. Lastly, it had to benefit from Western technology. In the end, there were just two options-agriculture or retailing. They opted for the latter.
Filling the Retail Gap
Back then, convenience stores were unknown in the country. The retail scene was not keeping up with the changing needs and lifestyles of Filipino consumers, who had to make do with what the neighborhood sari-sari store had to offer. Paterno recognized the gap and decided to bring the convenience store concept to the Philippines. In 1982, Paterno's Philippine Seven Corporation signed a license agreement with Southland Corporation, which granted him the franchise to open 7-Eleven stores in the country. With no more than P5 million in capital (the exchange rate was P14/US$), the company prepared to open two stores.
It turned out to be the worst time to open the stores. Not long after they did, opposition leader Benigno Aquino Jr. was assassinated, throwing the Philippine economy into chaos. By then, another friend, Jorge Araneta, had joined Paterno and Pardo. "We assessed the situation, but we had already gone so far. We had reached the point of no return," recalls Paterno. Unfortunately, the fledgling company was very short on capital and had to expand out of profits. Two stores, however, were not enough to generate the needed funds, so it was a Catch-22 situation.
The company struggled on until after the EDSA Revolution, when consumer spending and investor sentiment improved. The group then struck an agreement with Philamlife. The latter agreed to build stores to be run by the Paterno group in exchange for rental fees and a percentage of sales.
Even then, the business's viability remained under question, so Paterno and Pardo called on other friends, among them, Manuel Agustines of Ramcar, Benjamin de Leon of National Life, Alfred Ramos of National Bookstore, and Dante Santos of Philacor. With the additional funding, 7-Eleven stores slowly branched out to more consumers across the metropolis.
Turning the Corner
It was a slow, steady ride for the company. After it opened its eighth store, Philippine Seven turned the corner. Philamlife became an equity investor, after which the company, now a real estate and an operating firm, went on expansion mode.
In 1998, the company, with 100 stores to its name, tapped the capital markets for additional funding via an initial public offering of its shares. A bond component also allowed it to secure foreign funding.
It was a good time for the business and for Paterno, but all the success was brought into proper focus with the discovery that Paterno had cancer. "Cancer brings you to terms with your mortality," he says. "I realized I had to prepare, to put things in order." Although he emerged victorious in the fight against the disease, he made sure that Philippine Seven was slowly weaned away from him. "I told myself, Paterno, you're 75, it's not fair anymore. I could keel over anytime and I had no succession plan."
Taiwanese Partners
Paterno saw an opportunity in the then-proposed Foreign Investments Law. The law allowed foreign ownership of less than 51% in retailing under certain conditions. "This was 1999, and I could already see it coming," he says. Towards the end of that year, Paterno went to Taiwan to meet with 7-Eleven officers and offer them a 30% stake in Philippine Seven. "I told them we needed new company management, new technology." 7-Eleven Taiwan, however, wanted more than that, and in August the next year, tendered an offer for 50.4% of the company. Some of the equity partners cashed out, but Paterno and the founding shareholders decided to stay on for the joint venture with 7-Eleven Taiwan.
7-Eleven Taiwan brought more robust systems and its retailing culture to the Philippine franchise, all of which would contribute to the continued strength of the stores even in the face of stiff competition from other convenience store chains. The assimilation was so thorough that after five years of Taiwanese management, the reins were again turned over to the Filipino partners, this time, to Paterno's son Victor, who became company president. Paterno, meanwhile, stayed on as chairman, for a sense of continuity. As of September 2005, there were 256 7-Eleven stores nationwide.
"The idea of localization was timely," relates Paterno, noting that "morale went up." The cultural differences between the Filipino employees and the Taiwanese management could have prevented the optimization of employee morale. Nevertheless, Paterno says the entry of the Taiwanese partners was necessary. "We had grown from a very small operation. We were a small company for 10 to 15 years, but we needed change," he explains.
Life Decisions
Paterno reveals that the most difficult decision he had made was the one to quit Meralco to join the government. A government job meant getting just a third of his Meralco salary and giving up all the other perks. He could have also taken a World Bank posting in Washington, but "we had to make a decision for our children. What was it that the children would have wanted us to do? We wanted them raised here, but we also wanted them to have a foreign education to keep their options open. If we leave, we would be giving up on the Philippines."
Now, with the children all grown and the stint in government and business over, Paterno is a contented man. He has told his son Victor that "I won't do anything for the company unless you ask me" and is happy with going to store inaugurations and joining monthly performance reviews. At 80, his happiness now revolves around photography. There is, of course, the livelihood program that he runs in Mindanao for small businesses. He still speaks proudly of the time he won the Management Association of the Philippines award for integrity with the late Jaime Ongpin, one of his closest friends, and of the Foreign Investments Law, which he authored. "Even Nathaniel Santiago [one of the Philippine Left's leading personalities] said it was okay," says Paterno.
Of course, he also remembers his frustrations as a legislator and as a citizen. But all in all, he is happy with his life's decisions. Sums up Paterno, "I don't think that there were major decisions that were wrong in their time. You are what you are, the situation is what it is."
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Wednesday, March 8, 2006
People I Admire Series: Alfonso Yuchengco
(This was probably one of my most difficult interviews -- Yuchengco kept joking all throughout our conversation.)
One of the keys to the success of Alfonso Yuchengco, 83, is how he values partnerships, whether it is with a person, a company, or a country In business circles, his name is synonymous with banking and insurance. He saw the Yuchengco Group of Companies-composed of Rizal Commercial Banking Corporation, Pan Malayan Management and Investment Corporation, Great Pacific Life Insurance, House of Investments, and the Malayan Group of Insurance Companies-grow into the giant that it is today.
Though he jokes that he is "somewhat involved in the decision-making process, and sometimes, they follow me," Yuchengco, who is chairman of the group, is still very much updated with the goings-on in their subsidiaries and affiliated companies. Major plans still pass through him and he remains the strict boss who pays attention to detail (he is a certified public accountant and was once a professor of accounting at the Far Eastern University and University of the East), knowing very well how small things can unmake great plans.
It was this fastidiousness and attention to detail that allowed him to grow RCBC from a small development bank when it opened in 1960 into the fifth-largest private domestic bank in the country today with total consolidated assets of almost P164 billion, and transform Malayan Insurance from a humble operation along Gandara Street into the Philippines' largest insurance firm at present.
Reaching Out
Another key to Yuchengco's success lies in how he values partnerships. RCBC, for instance, banked on its partnership with United Financial of Japan, one of the world's largest financial conglomerates, to help establish its presence in the global markets and strengthen its competitiveness on the local front among Japanese and other foreign clients. Great Pacific Life was born from a prospective partnership with the New India Assurance Corporation. The partnership was aborted when, just before launching, the New India chairman found out his company would be nationalized under Indian rules. Thankful for the crucial piece of information passed on to him, Yuchengco still values the chairman's friendship to this day.
Yuchengco's life demonstrates how important strategic alliances and partnerships are to him. It does not matter if the partner is a person, a company, or a country. All he knows is that in reaching out, much can be accomplished. He is still active in various civic, professional, and philanthropic organizations. A few years ago, he was named by then-President Fidel Ramos as a member of the National Centennial Commission tasked to take charge of the nationwide preparations for the 100th anniversary of Philippine independence in 1998.
The Businessman as Ambassador
The biggest proof of Yuchengco's dedication to his countrymen, however, was his willingness to leave the country to help Filipinos abroad. Yuchengco readily agreed to be named the country's ambassador to the People's Republic of China from 1986 to 1988 and to Japan from 1995 to 1998. In 2001, he was also named the Philippine's permanent representative to the United Nations with rank of ambassador.
These ambassadorial stints were very memorable for him. Japan, in particular, proved to be a very challenging post, especially when he found out that there were as many as 200,000 undocumented Filipinos there. Because of their immigration status, these Filipinos had no access to medical care, which is very expensive in Japan. Yuchengco recalls that there were even cases of sick Filipinos dying because they could not get the necessary medical attention.
He decided to sidestep various immigration restrictions by bringing in a Filipino doctor as an attaché of the embassy. That way, illegally staying Filipinos could just go to the embassy for medical care. That, of course, was kept under cover and Yuchengco was confident he was not going to be discovered. "I thought it was a secret, but at the end of my term, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs hosted a reception for me, and the minister was citing my accomplishments in Japan. One of the accomplishments he cited was that I brought to Japan a doctor to treat the Filipino patients," he laughs. He came home with the Grand Cordon of the Order of the Rising Sun presented to him in 1998 by His Majesty, the Emperor of Japan.
His stint in China, which came right after the first EDSA revolution, was equally interesting. "Deng Xiaoping was still alive. He was the paramount leader, and I watched him undertake various reforms." Since the Philippines was also in a transition phase, Yuchengco took advantage of opportunities to strengthen ties between the two countries. "The relationship between the Philippines and China improved tremendously," he said. Yuchengco left China the day before the Tiananmen Square massacre in 4 June 1989. "Had I known it would happen, I wouldn't have left," he rues.
After the stints in China and Japan, it is not surprising that he found his UN stay "very boring." In his short stint at the UN, he won a Security Council seat for the Philippines, the first time ever that the country was elected to the Security Council.
New Opportunities
The ambassador, however, could never shake out the businessman in him. In between his foreign postings, Yuchengco still managed to undertake important projects. He was, for example, among the taipans who formed Asia's Emerging Dragons Corporation in the early 1990s to undertake infrastructure projects for the country. He was elected chairman of AEDC.
In 1999, Yuchengco purchased the Mapúa Institute of Technology, known for having produced some of the country's best engineers. The acquisition is testimony to his commitment to help improve the Philippine educational system, but it also reflects his sentimental side. "My father used to be in the construction business with Engineer Mapúa," he recalls. He decided to acquire the university not only because he saw strong business opportunities but also because of his desire to preserve his father's business roots. Following the acquisition, the university has undergone a major upgrade, strengthening its capabilities to train students for both engineering and information technology. It has also opened a branch in Makati City.
Zest for Life
That Yuchengco, 83, remains strong and energetic today is probably due to his zest for life. He genuinely enjoys people. He prays and is devoted to the Blessed Mother. He swims daily and makes it a point to be at the office at 10:00 a.m. everyday. Most of all, he believes he is lucky.
Yuchengco possesses a streak of mischief and a sense of humor. "Personal integrity is very important to me. Money doesn't mean so much. I have been negotiating with St. Peter to just let me bring my money, because if I leave them with my children, they will just fight and only the lawyers will get rich. But so far, no answer," he deadpans, "so I just decided to give it to others."
By others, he refers to his various philanthropic causes. For instance, his substantial donation to the Our Lady of Peace Mission Foundation, through the AY Foundation he established in 1970, made possible the building of the Doña Maria H.T. Yuchengco Charity Ward along the Cavite Coastal Road. The foundation also has a university scholarship program for high school graduates who are chosen by their classmates not for intellectual superiority or academic standing but for their discipline and love of country. To them, he says, "Have a dream. If you have a dream, have a plan. Think out the plan. Analyze it."
This might as well be his guiding principle in life. In business and out of it, Alfonso Yuchengco has shown how dreams take shape with a dose of luck and a lot of planning.
Close window
One of the keys to the success of Alfonso Yuchengco, 83, is how he values partnerships, whether it is with a person, a company, or a country In business circles, his name is synonymous with banking and insurance. He saw the Yuchengco Group of Companies-composed of Rizal Commercial Banking Corporation, Pan Malayan Management and Investment Corporation, Great Pacific Life Insurance, House of Investments, and the Malayan Group of Insurance Companies-grow into the giant that it is today.
Though he jokes that he is "somewhat involved in the decision-making process, and sometimes, they follow me," Yuchengco, who is chairman of the group, is still very much updated with the goings-on in their subsidiaries and affiliated companies. Major plans still pass through him and he remains the strict boss who pays attention to detail (he is a certified public accountant and was once a professor of accounting at the Far Eastern University and University of the East), knowing very well how small things can unmake great plans.
It was this fastidiousness and attention to detail that allowed him to grow RCBC from a small development bank when it opened in 1960 into the fifth-largest private domestic bank in the country today with total consolidated assets of almost P164 billion, and transform Malayan Insurance from a humble operation along Gandara Street into the Philippines' largest insurance firm at present.
Reaching Out
Another key to Yuchengco's success lies in how he values partnerships. RCBC, for instance, banked on its partnership with United Financial of Japan, one of the world's largest financial conglomerates, to help establish its presence in the global markets and strengthen its competitiveness on the local front among Japanese and other foreign clients. Great Pacific Life was born from a prospective partnership with the New India Assurance Corporation. The partnership was aborted when, just before launching, the New India chairman found out his company would be nationalized under Indian rules. Thankful for the crucial piece of information passed on to him, Yuchengco still values the chairman's friendship to this day.
Yuchengco's life demonstrates how important strategic alliances and partnerships are to him. It does not matter if the partner is a person, a company, or a country. All he knows is that in reaching out, much can be accomplished. He is still active in various civic, professional, and philanthropic organizations. A few years ago, he was named by then-President Fidel Ramos as a member of the National Centennial Commission tasked to take charge of the nationwide preparations for the 100th anniversary of Philippine independence in 1998.
The Businessman as Ambassador
The biggest proof of Yuchengco's dedication to his countrymen, however, was his willingness to leave the country to help Filipinos abroad. Yuchengco readily agreed to be named the country's ambassador to the People's Republic of China from 1986 to 1988 and to Japan from 1995 to 1998. In 2001, he was also named the Philippine's permanent representative to the United Nations with rank of ambassador.
These ambassadorial stints were very memorable for him. Japan, in particular, proved to be a very challenging post, especially when he found out that there were as many as 200,000 undocumented Filipinos there. Because of their immigration status, these Filipinos had no access to medical care, which is very expensive in Japan. Yuchengco recalls that there were even cases of sick Filipinos dying because they could not get the necessary medical attention.
He decided to sidestep various immigration restrictions by bringing in a Filipino doctor as an attaché of the embassy. That way, illegally staying Filipinos could just go to the embassy for medical care. That, of course, was kept under cover and Yuchengco was confident he was not going to be discovered. "I thought it was a secret, but at the end of my term, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs hosted a reception for me, and the minister was citing my accomplishments in Japan. One of the accomplishments he cited was that I brought to Japan a doctor to treat the Filipino patients," he laughs. He came home with the Grand Cordon of the Order of the Rising Sun presented to him in 1998 by His Majesty, the Emperor of Japan.
His stint in China, which came right after the first EDSA revolution, was equally interesting. "Deng Xiaoping was still alive. He was the paramount leader, and I watched him undertake various reforms." Since the Philippines was also in a transition phase, Yuchengco took advantage of opportunities to strengthen ties between the two countries. "The relationship between the Philippines and China improved tremendously," he said. Yuchengco left China the day before the Tiananmen Square massacre in 4 June 1989. "Had I known it would happen, I wouldn't have left," he rues.
After the stints in China and Japan, it is not surprising that he found his UN stay "very boring." In his short stint at the UN, he won a Security Council seat for the Philippines, the first time ever that the country was elected to the Security Council.
New Opportunities
The ambassador, however, could never shake out the businessman in him. In between his foreign postings, Yuchengco still managed to undertake important projects. He was, for example, among the taipans who formed Asia's Emerging Dragons Corporation in the early 1990s to undertake infrastructure projects for the country. He was elected chairman of AEDC.
In 1999, Yuchengco purchased the Mapúa Institute of Technology, known for having produced some of the country's best engineers. The acquisition is testimony to his commitment to help improve the Philippine educational system, but it also reflects his sentimental side. "My father used to be in the construction business with Engineer Mapúa," he recalls. He decided to acquire the university not only because he saw strong business opportunities but also because of his desire to preserve his father's business roots. Following the acquisition, the university has undergone a major upgrade, strengthening its capabilities to train students for both engineering and information technology. It has also opened a branch in Makati City.
Zest for Life
That Yuchengco, 83, remains strong and energetic today is probably due to his zest for life. He genuinely enjoys people. He prays and is devoted to the Blessed Mother. He swims daily and makes it a point to be at the office at 10:00 a.m. everyday. Most of all, he believes he is lucky.
Yuchengco possesses a streak of mischief and a sense of humor. "Personal integrity is very important to me. Money doesn't mean so much. I have been negotiating with St. Peter to just let me bring my money, because if I leave them with my children, they will just fight and only the lawyers will get rich. But so far, no answer," he deadpans, "so I just decided to give it to others."
By others, he refers to his various philanthropic causes. For instance, his substantial donation to the Our Lady of Peace Mission Foundation, through the AY Foundation he established in 1970, made possible the building of the Doña Maria H.T. Yuchengco Charity Ward along the Cavite Coastal Road. The foundation also has a university scholarship program for high school graduates who are chosen by their classmates not for intellectual superiority or academic standing but for their discipline and love of country. To them, he says, "Have a dream. If you have a dream, have a plan. Think out the plan. Analyze it."
This might as well be his guiding principle in life. In business and out of it, Alfonso Yuchengco has shown how dreams take shape with a dose of luck and a lot of planning.
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