The Effective Money Runaround Rate

Now before I launch into this economic treatise, let me state clearly that my post graduate degree is in radio and television arts. Macro to me means a kind of elegant knitting. Oh, sorry. That is macramé. Micro means little. I mean it means small, not little. But it means lots to economists. It is smaller than mini. You can't wear it as a skirt to church.

My hypothesis is that the Philippines is about to launch into a period of very strong economic growth and join the ranks of respected Asian powers.

Here's why.

The nation has a godawfully large number of people. That is the way economists with degrees from the George Carlin School of Economics would put it. The females give birth like turtles, only they don't put their eggs in the sand where crocodiles dine. They hide them where a zillion little hunters have to swim upriver looking, looking, looking. However it is done, it is done well. Swarms of hungry mouths are being generated efficiently. Let no one deny that the Philippines is productive in at least one area. Families hatch 8 or 9 or 10 kids each. It is stunning if you do the math. The Philippines will surpass the US in population about five months into 2053.

And given the effect of seas that are a meter higher at about that time, the land area of the Philippines will shrink roughly 26.738%. We are talking big squeeze here, especially considering most of the mountains have been  cleared for a parking lot (Joanie Mitchell, where are you when we need you?), but the paver has not yet arrived, nor the cars, and the mountains are running into the sea in huge churning brown floods with each passing storm. The Philippines has some 7,000 islands and 436,815 rivers. Some rivers are short, and short-lived, but boy howdy do they know how to take a mountain down. And sometimes a village along with it.

Marketing executives look at all the crying, hungry mouths in the Philippines and exclaim  "Now THAT is a market if we can only figure out how to sell into it." Well, you do that by selling things really really cheap, because the earning power of the parents of those hungry mouths is the gross personal income of the Philippines divided by 46 million workers. Or 797 pesos a week. So if you run a restaurant, you scrape together a couple of old coconut lumber tables with warped plywood tops, slap on one coat of really cheap paint, and you borrow some plastic chairs from Lola and a grill from Uncle Armando. Buy the cheapest meat you can find and grill up a batch of barbequed whatever, and boil up a pot of whatzit.

You price the stuff for other people without money, people's whose stomachs have been time tested for resistance to every virus and bacteria known to man. And probably some wholly unknown bugs, from dining on that which has multiplied in irregular fashion on the edge of a garbage dump used for fertilizer for the banana trees.

The thing about this broad, economically thin market is that people don't spend much on wasteful discretionary stuff like push-up bra's or Happy-Day erection medicine or a new ski-doo. They spend it on food, and maybe a new pair of slippers when the other pair gets way floppy. The money they spend on food goes to the people who grow the food. Or they spend it on transportation, usually locally, so maybe 5 pesos for a tricycle ride. Most of that money goes directly to the guy schlepping that trike up and down the hills.

Now this is where I get sophisticated on you. Focus! Focus! That portion total expenditures "E" that goes directly to local labor I shall tag "G", as in grain. That part of expenditures which goes to fertilizer or product or out of the market,  off the reservation, or to China, I shall refer to as chaff, or "C".  Now:

G = E - C

The money that gets recycled in town is R, where:

R = G/E

When R approaches 1.0, then all the money being spent in town for labor is itself also being spent in town for labor. It takes maybe a week to cycle through each time. So that money is doing a lot of sweat on its own, running through town again and again, week after week.

Now in the US, R may be around .20. In Russia, maybe .35. In the Philippines, outside of Manila, I scientifically estimate that the average R is .84.

Therein rests the key to the forthcoming boom.

It only takes a little additional money fed into the broad laboring masses to really get local economies humming.

I figure my own measly investment in my home town, now approaching, oh, P 5 million, has single-handedly converted the berg from underdeveloped to developing. Modern is right around the corner if I can get my richer big brother to pack his retirement income over here.

So the 5% growth being recorded in the Philippines now (oops, 3.4% last quarter thanks to those stinko failing European states), against a worldwide growth of maybe 0.1%, augers well for the Philippines. The effective money runaround rate (that is a sophisticated economic expression unknown to most laymen) is maybe 4 times as great as those so-called modern states. So the pesos here fairly hum. It is only a short distance from poverty to prosperity.

With enough "trickle-up" of the money, the Philippines might develop a real middle class in some place other than Makati and all those housing subdivisions owned by Senator Villar.

So buy Multicabs and Jeepneys, not Mitsubishis. And hire a lot of low-paid helpers, because they spend money efficiently.

And get more foreigners imported. Work their money. Work it like crazy.

It is the patriotic thing to do.

Reason 17: Wind in the Bamboo

What is it about air moving across the face that is so refreshing?

Well, assuming it is not roasting hot or freezing cold or laden with pollution.

If it is mild of temperature and fresh of content, it is delightful.

Much of the Philippine population lives along the coast, for there is so much coastline here. Second in the world, next to Indonesia. There is almost always a breeze along the coast as the varying land and water temperatures push the air this way and that. Sometimes it is a full-fledged wind, pushing not only the hair back, but the jowls, if you are of such an age as to have jowls.

And on occasion, it is a gale or a typhoon. Those may not be refreshing, but they are exhilarating, for the drama of impending doom. Living on the edge. That's what we do three or four times a year.

My property is partway up the side of a mountain and tending toward the middle of a small island. We can see the ocean over there (forefinger aimed frontwise) and the mountains back that way (thumb jerked over shoulder).  Here we get wind from any direction, depending on whether the inter-tropical conversion zone is north or south of us, and if storms to left or right draw winds hither or yon. It is a veritable punching bag for the air, this place.

I've retained several large clumps of bamboo on the property. The huge ones that grow 50 or 60 feet tall. Here they are in the category of weed, or functional plant for chopping down and making into vases or houses. But in America, where they do not grow naturally, you will only find them in exotic gardens, like the Huntington Gardens or Botanical Gardens in Los Angeles.

So I find them rare and elegant, and in 10 years or so, or when the exchange rate returns to some decent kind of pop, I'll order up some fine bronze statues for display amongst the bamboo. I'll ape Rodin's "The Thinker", or Hefner's "Miss May", and allow them to roost against the backdrop of those ever bending, never breaking super-reeds.

Bamboo creak in the winds. If you ever need a good creak, just visit a bamboo farm in a windstorm.

Ghosts have no idea . . .

They also shed leaves like a dog sheds fur in May, so the gutter pipes require regular cleaning and the hired hands are forever raking and sweeping.

It is an interesting place for creatures, too, these bamboo groves. Snakes and lizards and spiders and rats, birds and ants. Centipedes. An ecological wonderland of horror.

One of the species of bamboo is poisonous. If you rub the leaves against your bare skin you get a rash that itches like mad for about two weeks. It is rather like poison ivy, 70 feet tall. It has sucked all the dirt from the ground around it, creating a small hollow in the earth that fills with water that bubbles, as if something alive were down there breathing. Or maybe it is a bowl of poison or hydrochloric acid, I dunno. The bamboo's shedding leaves have collected and formed a huge mound of dark holes and mud in the center, sprouting new bamboo rooted 5 feet off the ground. My wife claims Yamashita's treasure is buried underneath that hideous clump of poison, but no one has the courage to go dig there. It is one creepy place.

I like chopping ordinary, non-poisonous bamboo. The kind that does not seek to eat you, just infest your hair with creatures. It only takes a few slices from a machete to fell one, and maybe 5 minutes to trim off the thorny branches. You can sell the stalks for 40 pesos hereabouts. The price is low because the supply is high. But we mostly use them for fencing or cottages, or give them as gifts to the neighbors.

So for you people wondering why Joe Am is happily settled in this crazy, illogical, maddening place. . .

Reason 17: The wind in the bamboo.

The Big Secret

This is the sixth and final article in a series about an innovative solution to the problems faced in Philippine schools where too many kids and not enough resources reduce education to the lowest, slowest common denominator. Talented kids are today held back by "the system".

The "far out" program is called the Moon Model because it emulates the commitment and innovation that anchored American success at placing a man on the moon. Technology applied well. Teams working toward one goal.

Here are links to the prior articles.

Article 1:  Filipino kids are being denied a good education. Such a tragic waste. Many will never be all that they can be because they are handicapped from the getgo. Refer to: State Sponsored Child Abuse

Article 2: Proposes a striking new curriculum that builds personal character, critical knowledge, and the will and way to succeed. Refer to: The Philippine's Reach is Too Short to Grasp

Article 3:  Describes the  "Moon Model"  or internet based education requiring: (1) national commitment, (2) problem solving, and (3) technology. Lessons are provided by Mission Control and the program is rolled out in phases. Refer to: Sending Philippine Schools to the Moon

Article 4: Looks at the cost of giving each participating child a computer and internet access. Proposes to offer the program as an "honors class" to provide flexible management of overall expense. Refer to: "One Giant Leap for Filipino Kids"

Article 5: Explains how the role of the local teacher changes. Provides criteria for selection of teachers, selection of participating schools, issuance of computers, and selection of students for the program. Refer to: "Beam Me Up a Teacher, Scottie"

This is Article 6.

Why will the innovative Moon Model work? 

• First of all,  It uses technology to reduce student time in the classroom and provide relief for a school system that is hopelessly behind in the building of classrooms and hiring of teachers. It uses technology and centralized instruction to end the expensive, rigid and futile reliance upon written textbooks and overworked teachers.

• Second, it assures higher quality lessons because the best educators in the nation are working on lessons for all students, disseminating them via the internet.

• The curriculum inspires students. It does not put them to sleep or bore them with useless memorization. It is a choice. Hours spent memorizing multiplication tables for manual computations that will rarely be done in real life. Or one hour learning how to multiply (or find square roots) using a computer spreadsheet's mathematics functionality.

• It provides flexibility so that students can proceed at their own pace, not be bound by the slowest student in the classroom. This will allow the brightest students to surge ahead. The educational system will no longer hold them back.

Consider how rigid the traditional model is. The one used today. Bright students are held back by instruction that must be watered down to reach a large number of students. In a situation where classes average 45 students per teacher, learning is extraordinarily slow. Such a waste. Minds with the greatest potential are forced to plod along through rigid lessons from a fixed textbook. They must listen passively and obediently while the teacher and slower students struggle to move forward.

• The Moon Model is active learning. The smartest kids are encouraged to grow . . . not go slow.

Students now waste time memorizing things that are available at the flip of an internet search engine. Why must they memorize the table of elements when they can search for it on the internet? Why are they not learning how to create? To innovate? To debate? To lead? Why are they not getting  precise pronunciation instruction on video via the internet from a skilled speaker?

• The new curriculum teaches disciplines that kids can use to succeed, not minute data that are of no use in practical terms.

If you say "young people can't do these things" I fear you are one of the barriers. Young people are amazingly capable if given guidelines and a chance.

JoeAm's educational credentials: JoeAm was on the Parent's Board for an elementary school attached to one of the leading liberal arts colleges in Los Angeles, USA. Working with the college, the school tested and pioneered innovative instruction that recognized what the student learned is not as important how he feels about learning. When a student enjoys learning, he accelerates his quest for knowledge. Holding kids to a rigid teaching method kills inspiration. Not giving them a chance to succeed kills aspiration.

If you grasp the notion that kids can do amazing things, and ought not be held back by traditional teaching structures and problems, then you are ready to hear the Big Secret.

The Big Secret is this: the Moon Model not only will have kids teach themselves based on completion of internet lessons, they will teach each other by participating in small group teams. Much as a moon mission is carried out in a tightly knit team.

Teams will be structured within grade levels and between grade levels, where older students lead, tutor and counsel younger students. Sometimes the teams will be set up in pairs of two. Sometimes they will be set up in large groups of 10 or more. Each team will have a mission, a specific plan to follow, and guidance as to what each member is expected to do.

Team assignments will engage students in specific  areas of knowledge development, whether mathematics or agronomy, Chinese or identifying the importance of one's historical roots. Much as NASA breaks a space mission into components that are executed by specialized, goal-oriented teams.

Students will learn at a very early age the disciplines of setting an agenda, identifying problems, solving problems by brainstorming, getting everyone involved, sticking to schedules, getting results, and writing papers that all team members will sign off on. Students will learn how to lead, to innovate, to organize and how to be responsible to the team.

All of this will be done as moon missions are done. Under a specific set of instructions that keep the mission on track, but require a great deal of individual initiative for success.

Can you imagine? The best young minds in the Philippines set free to learn. And to learn not just data, like an unthinking robot, but the disciplines that anchor personal achievement: innovation, self-directed research, organization, problem-solving, commitment, leadership, and responsibility to others.

As Mission Control would instruct students:

• Imagine it.

• Organize it.

• Do it.

The Road to Nagasaki

The Atlantic ran a photo series of the battle of Midway and for the Aleutian islands where the Japanese invaded the "US" during World War II. The article can be found HERE.

The photo below is my favorite. It portrays the chaos of battle brilliantly. Four Japanese airplanes are in the scene, two little more than dots in the distance. A fourth you can't really see, but you can observe the smoke arising from the ocean where it crashed. The airplane in the foreground has just dropped a torpedo aimed at an American warship.

I remember as a youngster watching the "Victory at Sea" series of black and white films about the Pacific naval battles. They were set to a classical music theme, and, of course, were intensely patriotic for the American cause.

Most Americans are familiar with the Bataan Death March, but not the battle for Manila. Many Filipinos are critical of the way America waged war: relentless power and destruction. The final battle in Manila was for the Intramuros, where the Japanese had tied Filipinos up on the outside of the buildings as human shields. They hoped to forestall the relentless bombardment they knew was coming.

But the US was in a hurry, so they rained artillery shells like, well . . . rain.

The two atom bombs dropped on Japan were simply an extension of the same war strategy that said the Japanese will never surrender, so we must defeat them with force. This was the lesson learned on island after island in the Pacific, and the Aleutian islands, where Japanese would fight to the end, then kill themselves rather than surrender. The Atlantic photo series has a gruesome rendition of this.

Many blame the US for dropping the two atom bombs.

They don't blame the Japanese.

Same regarding Manila.

I find that interesting.

Usually a battle is a reflection of a series of events that have much deeper meaning. It is a transaction, an event, isolated from the chain of meanings that lead to war, or the strategies for fighting that war. If you adopt the strategy of ending the war as quickly as possible to prevent massive loss of life, you rain artillery on Manila and drop A-bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The discussion should be about that strategy.

Not the specific battles that were its execution.

And, even deeper, one should probe the frictions that led to war in the first place. Where, exactly, was the first mistake made? And who made it?

I'm not a student of the war, but I suspect numerous mistakes were made by both the US and Japan leading up to the war. After that, the clash of cultures and hates could not stop anything but brutal submission, one to the other.

Manila was simply the largest city on the road to Nagasaki.

Aesthetically Speaking . . .

I like the skies in the Philippines, away from the big cities. The big cities remind me too much of Los Angeles back in the days when a fine layer of brown grit hung over the entire city.  Huge gulping mouthfuls  of diesel exhaust is not my idea of sweet.

The Philippine skies are somehow deeper than the arid blue expanse that arched over the Colorado plains in the US where I grew up. The mountains are very different, too. Here they are smaller and muddier, lava and red clay. And richly green. The US Rocky Mountains are taller and rockier, made largely of gray and sandy granite (pronounced gran'-nit, not gran'-nite). The greens are darker in Colorado, sometimes almost black.

I miss pine trees from time to time, especially around Christmas.

Colorado

I don't miss the snow or ice. My once frostbitten ears no longer ache here, and, besides, I never learned to ski. I broke a toboggan with my ass once. We veered left, went off a small cliff and I punched right through the wood. We slapped the sled on the back of my '57 Nash Rambler with the seats that folded all the way down, and headed to a warm fireplace. I limped to the sofa and sat gently.

The Rambler seats are a story for a different telling.

But the skies here are fabulous, moving cloud sculptures, carrying a lot of moisture that condenses and falls by the ton. I caught a rainbow in front of a range of green, cloud-draped mountains the other day. Fantastic. And sunsets are like Van Gogh in his crazier days deciding red and orange and pink should be plastered across the entire upper canvas.

Filipinos run around looking for heroes, looking for reasons to be proud. Chasing boxers and movie stars.

I don't get it.

All they have to do is look at the landscape. Or the seascape.

My most enjoyable place is down by the pier in my hometown, 5:30 in the morning, looking out toward China. Islands in the distance. Green, cloud-whisked mountains to the north. Never the same cloud sculptures. Always a pleasant breeze. Air fresh and pure off the West Philippine Sea. A variety of boats, so natural here and strange to me, plying the choppy or calm waters. Boats in Colorado are called canoes.

Cherish is not a word that comes easily in the Philippines, I think.

Or we wouldn't see such abuse of the land and the oceans here.

Dynamited coral. Desert oceans.

Clear-cut foresting. Mudslides washing the mountains to the bottom of the seas.

Mining that rips the mountains apart and throws the leftover poisons into the nearest river.

Warm springs that can't be enjoyed for the shit-laden runoff that sits in them.

People run around looking for a God to worship and don't realize He sits right outside the door, in a view that strikes harmony like a jolt of lightening across the soul. He is in a clump of coral, orange or blue, inhabited by the richest diversity of sea life on the planet.

Harvested for money.

God is MIA in the Philippines. Kidnapped. Held for ransom.

He has been plastered into a statue behind the altar, in a building made of cement.

I suppose what is missing to many Filipinos is perspective, especially those without money. They have not traveled to other lands. They live where they live, and have been there so long they don't see what is there. They only see the need to find a way to eat today.

If they could see it, really really see it, they would understand the word "cherish".

They would have no need of heroes, for they would recognize that they have been blessed with the richest, most ecologically diverse, most beautiful place on earth. There is no need to prop that gift up with manufactured glory, with artificial pride, with a hunt for something other than what is right outside the door.

Glory is there.

God is there.

I thank Him for the gift, the lift He gives my spirit, every day. I cherish it. Right out there.