Skip to main content

Stakeout, then, take out| An eye for tomorrow (Pananaw sa kinabukasan) [PJI editorials 13-14 November 2005]

IT WAS an idea for murder whose time has come. And none suspected the worse until the mangled bodies turned up in the streets, cold and dead.

Nobody guessed a game of sorts was afoot. And the sordid game’s a reality TV show plied out from country in a universe parallel to ours. State-of-the-art surveillance equipment and cameras with ultra-high resolution of images had been fitted in several government offices. Those gadgets (each no bigger than a microdot using nanotechnology) allowed millions of viewers to witness whatever passes off as high drama, low comedy, even luscious pornography in government service.

The show was tabbed “S/Takeout.” Its concept was murderously brilliant.

Initially, viewers do a stakeout on culprits. Then, they take ‘em culprits out. Poor, unsuspecting rank-and-file denizens of government offices just won’t know what would hit ‘em.

The populace of this dimension was simply stumped, a lot horrified as civil servants and their circle of cronies and cohorts were found dumped dead. The slayers left an odd trademark of death. The victims’ eye sockets were stuffed with gold coins, their mouths and bellies were bloated to bursting with thick wads of cash. Those monies were probably send-off gifts and more than paid for burial expenses.

The purge of sorts began at an agency called Bureau of Internal Revenue. It didn’t take too much time for so-called revenue samsam-miners to be replaced by fresh batches of recruits.

The plague simultaneously hit DPWH, DENR and Bureau of Customs. The death toll was staggering, the consequent job vacancies a delight to those seeking employment.

The casualty count rose. The purge crept to other departments, bureaus, line agencies.

But there was hardly any weeping and mourning or sense of loss for the departed. The populace in this sphere has turned numb and unsympathetic.

Fits of laughter rocked the entire archipelago as the deadly harvest reached the so-called House of Representatives, the police and military rank-and-file, Senate, and MalacaƱang.

The message of the take-outs was a tad grim: corruption is rewarded with a lot of cash more than enough for funeral expenses.

Nobody suspected it was a hit reality TV show plied out from a parallel universe but everybody hereabouts was cheering, “Show must go on!”

An eye for tomorrow

PETER F. Drucker won’t be around on November 19 to join the world cheer and toast his 96th year of a jaunt through this planet. This giant went ahead, crossed the Pearly Gates at 95.

Starry-eyed and star-crossed lovers will keep him in memory—how he and Doris Schmitz, a 19-year old student kindled romance, waving madly while going in opposite directions on a London subway escalator, finally tying the knot as global economies gasped in death throes in 1937. Yes, just like in the movies.

Drucker cherished ordinary people, “people running the everyday concerns of business and institutions, took responsibility and kept on building for tomorrow while around them the world came crashing down."

He was for people and profits—sustained business profits are raked in if a business treats its people as valuable resources.

Relish his thought: “No institution can possibly survive if it needs geniuses or supermen to manage it. It must be organized in such a way as to be able to get along under a leadership composed of average human beings.”

Admittedly, he wasn’t one of the ordinary people. He was a gifted writer. He turned out over 30 books that sold tens of millions of copies in more than 30 languages-- on top of thousands of articles, including a monthly opinion column that ran from 1975 to 1995 in Wall Street Journal.

Too, he was a teacher. From his early 20’s to his death he held various academic teaching posts, providing wit and wisdom to such institutions as General Motors, General Electric and Sears, Roebuck, the Archdiocese of New York and several Protestant churches; government agencies in the United States, Canada and Japan; universities; and entrepreneurs.

“We now accept the fact that learning is a lifelong process of keeping abreast of change. And the most pressing task is to teach people how to learn,” he pointed out.

And he calls himself a “bystander.” Some bystander with an eye for tomorrow, goading managers: “Follow effective action with quiet reflection. From the quiet reflection will come even more effective action.”

Drucker is survived by his wife Doris, their four children, six grandchildren, and his legacy that shaped modern corporate management.

“Management means, in the last analysis, is the substitution of thought for brawn and muscle, of knowledge for folkways and superstition, and of cooperation for force. It means the substitution of responsibility for obedience to rank, and of authority of performance for the authority of rank.”


Pananaw sa kinabukasan

WALA sa Nobyembre 19 si Peter F. Drucker para makipagsaya sanlibutan sa kanyang ika-96 na taong pagliliwaliw sa mundong ito. Lumisan na ang higante sa edad na 95.

Sasariwain siya sa gunita ng mga magkasuyo’t magkasintahan—kung paanong siya at si Doris Schmitz, isa noong edad-19 estudyante ay nagpaliyab ng kanilang pagmamahalan habang kumakaway sa magkabilang direksiyon ng isang London subway escalator, tungo sa altar habang agaw-hininga ang mga ekonomiya ng daigdig noong 1937. Parang pelikula.

Idinambana ni Drucker ang mga karaniwang tao, “silang umuugit ng pagsulong ng mga negosyo at institusyon, nanindigan sa gawain at nagpatuloy sa pagtitindig para sa kinabukasan kahit gumuguho ang daigdig sa kanilang paligid.”

Panig siya sa tao at kita—matutustusan ang saganang kita ng negosyo kung ituturing nito ang tao bilang mahalagang kayamanan.

Namnamin ang kanyang diwa: “Walang institusyon na mabubuhay kung kailangan nito ng mga henyo at supermen sa pamamalakad. Kailangang mabuo ito at mapatakbo sa pamumuno ng mga karaniwang tao.”

Tatanggapin na hindi siya pangkaraniwan. Kamangha-mangha siyang manunulat. Umakda siya ng higit sa 30 aklat na naisalin sa mahigit 30 wika at dose-dosenang milyon ang nabili sa buong daigdig—bukod pa sa libu-libong artikulo, pati na isang buwanang pitak na inilalabas mula 1975 hanggang 1995 sa Wall Street Journal.

Isa rin siyang guro. Sapul edad-20 hanggang sa kanyang pagpanaw, nagturo siya sa iba’t ibang pamantasan, nagbahagi ng kanyang talino sa mga institusyong tulad ng General Motors, General Electric at Sears, Roebuck, ang Archdiocese ng New York, ilang simbahang Protestante, mga ahensiya ng gobyerno sa US, Canada, Japan; pati na sa mga entrepreneurs.

“Natatanggap natin ngayon na ang pagtuklas sa kaalaman ay panghabang buhay na pamamaraan upang makaangkop sa pagbabago. At ang pinakamatinding gawain ay magturo sa mga tao kung paano matuto,” aniya.

“Tagasubaybay” ang turing niya sa sarili. Tagasubaybay na nakatuon ang pananaw sa kinabukasan, nagtutulak sa mga tagapamahala: “Sundan ang mabisang pagkilos ng tahimik na paglilimi. Mula sa tahimik na paglilimi susupling ang higit pang mabisang pagkilos.”

Naiwanan niya ang kanyang kabiyak na si Doris, ang kanilang apat na anak, anim na apo, at ang kanyang pamanang diwa na humubog sa makabagong pamamahala sa korporasyon.

“Sa huling tuusan, ang pamamahala ay paghalili ng kaisipan sa lakas at katawan, ng kaalaman sa kinagawian at pamahiin, at ng pakikiisa kaysa puwersa. Ang katuturan nito ay pagpalit ng responsibilidad kaysa pagsunod sa nakatataas, at ng kapangyarihan ng gawa kaysa kapangyarihan ng nakatataas.”


Popular posts from this blog

Every single cell of my body's happy

I got this one from Carmelite Sisters from whose school three of my kids were graduated from. They have this snatch of a song that packs a fusion metal and liebeslaud beat and whose lyrics go like this:

"Every single cell of my body is happy. Every single cell of my body is well. I thank you, Lord. I feel so good. Every single cell of my body is well."

Biology-sharp nerds would readily agree with me in this digression... Over their lifetimes, cells are assaulted by a host of biological insults and injuries. The cells go through such ordeals as infection, trauma, extremes of temperature, exposure to toxins in the environment, and damage from metabolic processes-- this last item is often self-inflicted and includes a merry motley medley of smoking a deck a day of Philip Morris menthols, drinking currant-flavored vodka or suds, overindulgence in red meat or the choicest fat-marbled cuts of poultry and such carcass.

When the damage gets to a certain point, cells self-destruct. T…


Viagra au naturel

IT LOOKED eerie—a blaze of fireflies pulsing like stars in the nippy air, throbbing with mating passions. That show of lights somehow eased the shadows of a Holy Thursday night on a dry river bed a few kilometers trudge up Mount Makiling.

It’s likely that no river has lain in sleep for months on that moss-grown, boulder-strewn bed—except my 20-year old kid Kukudyu and I. We were out to spend the night, do on-site learning sessions by the next day. Usual father-and-son bonding. As the late Benjamin Franklin once begged: "Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn."

Past noon from the foot of the mountain’s northern section, it took us four hours ploughing non-stop through prickly bushes and forest undergrowth to get to that site. We got there in one bruised piece. By then, dusk was falling; the sylvan air hummed with a trill of crickets, cicadas, critters nameless in choral orison. That incessant “sh-r-r-e-eemmm---“ layered with “k-kr-r-eeengg--” …