CONSIDER my version of German writer Heinrich Boll’s 1963 story, similarly told by Harris Irfan in the 2014 book Heaven’s Bankers, which refers to “heaven’s bankers” as bankers who practice Islamic finance. The original story is about an American tourist and a Mexican fisherman; in this version, the tourist is British and the fisherman is Filipino.
A British tourist sunbathes on the picturesque white-sand beach of Mindoro island and sees a Filipino fisherman docking with his catch of the day: yellow-fin tuna.
Out of curiosity, the Briton approaches the Filipino and asks, “My friend, how long did it take you to catch that?”
“Sir, only a short while,” the Filipino answers.
“Why not catch more? It’s just 10 a.m.”
“Sir, I can sell it for enough money to feed my family for the rest of the day.”
A bit surprised, the Briton asks, “Well what do you do the rest of the day?”
“Sir?” the Filipino said. “After I sell this, I eat lunch, take a long siesta, stroll along the beach, hang around with friends in the barrio before dinner, eat dinner, spend time with my wife and children while I drink my homemade lambanog, and then have a good night sleep.”
The Briton tells the Filipino in good faith, “My friend, I have a PhD in economics from Oxford University. I am a financial adviser based in London, and I can help you get out of poverty.”
Curious, the Filipino asks, “What would you advise me to do, sir?”
“First, you get on the boat on sunrise tomorrow, catch everything you can to sunset, sell your catch to feed your family and save the extra money in the bank. Do that every day for five years and you will find yourself with enough money to buy a bigger boat. Five more years, you’ll have more than enough boats to manage, that you will have others fishing for you.”
“Then what, sir?”
“It gets better. You will own an enterprise that you will eventually incorporate. In 10 years your enterprise will expand to the rest of the Philippines. You will be based in some posh subdivision in Manila.”
“Then what, sir?”
“Unbelievably so, it gets even better,” the Briton says enthusiastically. “In 10 years we go to the Securities and Exchange Commission and the Philippine Stock Exchange, set up your enterprise for an initial public offering and, then, we sell your company to foreign and local investors. You will be rich!”
“Then what, sir?” the Filipino asks excitedly.
“This is the best part! You won’t have to work. For the rest of your life, you will live in a nice coastal property. You will relax, fish in the morning, eat lunch, take a long siesta, stroll along the beach, hang around with friends in the barrio before dinner, eat dinner, spend time with your wife and children while you drink the best lambanog, and then have a good night sleep.”
To beg the question, are a lot of Filipinos we call “poor,” poor? Is the Filipino fisherman in the story poor? For those “poor” who cannot relate to him, they are actually poor. But for those “poor” who can relate to him, who eat three times a day and can live modestly while able to enjoy life with the family and community, they are not poor. They are pitiful poor.
Now consider the parable of the talents, which, by coincidence, happens to be the selected Gospel reading for Sunday. I am not a theologian, but the elementary lesson offered by the parable is that we are all given different talents, which can be loosely interpreted as our resources and endowments. Our obligation to society is to invest these resources to do good for society. Unfortunately, many of those gifted with resources do not invest as they should. Worse, they consume irresponsibly and excessively.
American sociologist-economist Thorstein Veblen explains this through his theory of conspicuous consumption. Putting Veblen’s theory in the context of today’s society, those belonging to the “leisure class”—the ones we see so often on television, in the suburbs of Manila or in Hollywood productions—engage in “conspicuous consumption.” They proudly show off their seemingly productive activities that, really, are wasteful. For example, society sees them in the wine-and-cheese scenes on primetime TV programs, shopping-is-bliss commercials, and billboards of models endorsing medical procedures that defy age and nature. They subliminally brag about their social status through their material belongings. For example, we see people with the fastest sports cars in the midst of traffic jams, in our day-to-day interaction with people with the fanciest smartphones, etc. Unfortunately, they cause what sociologists call as “emulation.”
In the end, among those gifted with resources, some do invest, while many engage in conspicuous consumption. As for the rest of society, others, like the Filipino fisherman, content themselves with decency and modesty, while many revere, but cannot really imitate the leisure class. Among those awed by the leisure class, the ones who are actually poor are psychologically battered; and the ones who are not so poor, but discontented with decency and modesty, become pitiful poor.
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Luis F. Dumlao, PhD, is the chairman of the Economics Department of the Ateneo de Manila University and a senior fellow of Eagle Watch, the school’s macroeconomic and forecasting unit.