Robert C. Bastillo’s “sense of mission” and “purpose-driven” decisions in life have led him to his new role, since September 2021, as president of Small Business Corporation, which is a financial institution mandated by law to provide assistance to small and medium enterprises, as well as to microbusinesses.
“We focus on financing and other forms of assistance, like capacity building,” he tells DAILY TRIBUNE in an interview. “It’s a business with a developmental mission. We run like a bank, supervised by the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas, but we are mandated to help the unbanked, the unfinanced — ’yung mga hindi pinapansin ng bangko (those who don’t get the attention of banks).”
SBCorp’s top executive proudly reports that they have developed a “machine learning-based credit scoring model” that makes for an efficient application process to greatly benefit the SME and microbusiness owners. (Visit https://sbcorp.gov.ph/ for the requirements and other information.)
When asked how he ended up in that line of work, Bastillo says it’s “the perfect mix” of his education as a professional degree holder in Master of Business Administration and business training in various capacities, plus his entrepreneurial experience and coaching.
“Perfect mix s’ya ng business orientation and discipline and ’yung development orientation ko,” he points out. But as he looks back on his life during the interview, he realizes he’s been primed since childhood to do what he’s been doing excellently for the past decades.
From Batanes to Los Baños
Bastillo was born and raised in Batanes to Ivatan parents who hailed from the two towns farthest from the main island, Batan. His family, including nine siblings (he’s the middle child) eventually settled in Batan, where the provincial capital, Basco, is located.
“I remember in Batanes, walang mayaman, walang mahirap (there were neither rich nor poor),” he says, his kind eyes matching his warm smile. “When we were growing up, there was just one school in the town. Ang alam kong buhay (The life I knew) growing up until I was 10, there was no distinction between who was rich and who was not. We all went to the same school. We all ate the same thing.”
In 1969, a “lone election-related violence” disturbed the peace in pristine Batanes, causing the Bastillos and other families to move out a year later. He vividly recalls what happened that day: “We had our belongings and we had to take the ship, and the ship would only come once a year. Like one-fourth of Batanes was on that ship. ’Yung tipong (Something like a) mass exodus. I thought I would never go back.”
Bastillo and his family found their way into Manila and started a new life. When he reached high school, he developed some form of resentment against where he came from. “Feeling ko, sinumpang lugar (a cursed place),” he says, “because everybody taunted me about Batanes. [Daanan ng] bagyo (Always in the path of typhoons), nobody wanted to go there.”
When filling out his application form to the University of the Philippines College Admission Test, the incoming freshman chose Los Baños as his first choice of campus over the more popular Diliman. “I wanted to study in a place where there are trees and mountains. I wanted to go back to nature. Ganoon lang kasimple (It was that simple),” he says.
Initially, he took up Agricultural Engineering, thinking that it was the “most difficult course at that time.” He was then elected president of the Freshman Assembly on the first time the Los Baños campus had its own officers. “So ’yung sense of mission nagsimula doon (started there),” he says. “Hindi naman maiiwasan pag student leader ka (You can’t escape that when you’re a student leader).”
Three years later, when Bastillo became more aware of socio-political issues, he felt “masyado na akong nakakahon (too boxed in)” within the technical boundaries of Agricultural Engineering. So, he decided to shift to Agricultural Economics, which he felt would enable him fulfill his sense of mission to change the world. “Or something like that,” he quips.
But, yes, he had constant discussions about the poor farmers on top of topics on sciences, economics and the like. It was clear that the mission was to help end poverty. He then wonders aloud, “Can you imagine how many years since I graduated in 1982, we’re still solving the same problem? Dumami lang sila (The problems have just increased).”
Road to development management
For Bastillo’s first job, he worked at the National Economic and Development Authority, which is regarded as the country’s premier socioeconomic planning body. Afterwards, he moved to the national livelihood program of the then administration of President Ferdinand Marcos. It was called Kilusan ng Kabuhayan at Kaunlaran under the Ministry of Human Settlement.
‘I remember in Batanes, walang mayaman, walang mahirap (there were neither rich nor poor).’
“Actually, it was a very nice program,” he says. “Talagang they recruited experts. I was doing financing projections for all the projects. Kaya lahat ng (that’s why all) conceivable projects in agriculture, ginawan ko ’yan (I made) for three years. Wala pang Excel noon. Manual ’yun na columnar pad, pencil, calculator. Pag nagkamali ka, uulitin mo (if I make a mistake, I will repeat it).”
Feeling the need to go back to school for a professional degree, he enrolled at the Asian Institute of Management for his MBA. He focused on his studies as the country was going through a transition post-Edsa Revolution in 1986 under then President Cory Aquino’s administration. “Sa MBA naman, puro business. Big business. So nabuo na ang picture sa akin,” he says, connecting his prior exposure in the grassroots, which he remains passionate about.
After Bastillo completed his MBA, he briefly worked in the private sector. In 1990, he returned to AIM to join its Central for Development Management, first as a consultant and then likewise as part of the faculty.
Part of his stint with AIM, Bastillo was able to visit Batanes in 1993, at age 33, and saw his place of birth and childhood from a different perspective. This time, he only saw beauty and pride over the past trauma of being uprooted. He was in awe of how the Ivatans mastered organic farming and self-reliance while welcoming tourism.
As Bastillo found out, getting involved in big business resulted in big financial rewards. He was earning as a consultant in private development organizations around US$1,000 a day, with additional perks when assigned abroad, particularly in that era’s emerging economies. At that time, the exchange rate was P25 to a US$1, and then went up to P45 to US$1.
But the otherwise win-win situation put the man with a noble mission and purpose in a quandary: “Kung gusto ng isang NGO na magpatulong, ’tapos hindi ko maatim na
mag-charge ng 1,000 dollars a day. Kaya nga ito nag-NGO, gustong tulungan ang mundo (If an NGO seeks help, I couldn’t stomach charging them 1,000 dollars a day. The reason they became an NGO in the first place was to help the world)… They want to save the world. They can’t afford to pay all these consultants, so namroblema ako noon (I was in a quandary).”
He couldn’t simply lower his rate without considering his fellow faculty members.
“Feeling ko, as I go along, parang nasa ivory tower ako (I felt like I was in an ivory tower),” he says in reflection. “Parang ang taas-taas nang kinalalagyan ko. Puro kami (Like I was way above. We were all about) theories, conceptual and all. We were talking about making how NGOs can be effective and efficient. Feeling ko, kulang kami ng soul (I felt like we were lacking in soul).”
In 2000, Bastillo decided to quit his job to immerse again in the grassroots. He walked away from what he calls “all the trappings of glory, honor and prestige and money,” then “risk everything” by setting up his own consulting company “to become a true-blue development management practitioner.”
Back to his roots
When Bastillo turned 40, he realized that, well, life truly begins at that age. He was tapped by to be the consultant in the World Bank-funded project on the conservation of priority protected areas in the Philippines. These covered the 10 biodiversity-rich and
endemism-heavy spots placed under the National Integrated Protected Areas System, from Batanes up north to
Tawi-Tawi down south.
“In a few days, kailangan maging expert ako sa biodiversity,” he says. “I had to dig deep into my reservoir. May botany ako, meron akong ecosystems knowledge. May mga subject naman akong gano’n sa UP Los Baños. I facilitated the whole thing. They were so happy that they wanted me to be their lead consultant sa pagde
-develop ng management plans for each of the 10 areas.
“Because of that, I went around these beautiful places, na parang, ‘Wow, this is the life!’ My desire to help merged with my desire to explore. I am innately a tourist. There’s really wanderlust. Ito pa ang (And these are) the most beautiful frontiers and areas [such as] Palanan in Isabela, the Northern Sierra Madre.
“Sabi ko, ‘Wow, this is the life that I want to live!’
“Parang hindi ako na-excite sa trappings of luxury. I was more excited with the frontier. Going outdoors, encountering these beautiful places, untouched. Interacting with locals, tribe folks, even nongovernmental organizations. Para sa ’kin, very exciting at that time, very complex.”
His supposedly short-term consultancy work extended to last for a year and a half. He then moved on to another job and adventure.
Partying with beauty queens
Bastillo breaks into a wide grin as he shares “konting trivia” from his adventure-filled life. He narrates that back in the 1990s, when he was still with AIM, he met Stella Marquez-Araneta, the Colombian beauty pageant queen who married business magnate Jorge Araneta and founded the Binibining Pilipinas Charities, Incorporated.
‘That was the life… Most people don’t like that, but I like that. Adrenaline rush.’
Marquez-Araneta was looking for an expert on current affairs to coach Binibining Pilipinas-Universe 1994 Charlene Gonzalez for the pageant, which was held that year in the Philippines. She was impressed with Bastillo’s credentials that she hired him to do the job.
Bastillo was the one responsible for Gonzalez’s iconic one-liner during the question-and
-answer portion: “High tide or low tide?” when asked how many islands the Philippines has. “Ako ang nagturo sa kanya no’n, (I thought her that)” he says. “Mahaba pa dapat ’yun (that should be long). Nakalimutan n’ya ang buong (she forgot the whole) script. High tide, low tide lang ang natandaan n’ya.”
He went on coaching Binibining Pilipinas bets until the time of Miriam Quiambao, who placed first runner-up in Miss Universe 1999. “Parang product market briefing. Na-train s’ya. Hindi lang namin napaghandaan na mapunta sa Top 3 kasi (we didn’t prepare to be in the Top 3 because) Top 10 lang ang objective.”
His stint with beauty queens eventually cost him his application, in 2000, as country director to the British Volunteer Services Overseas, which he describes as “parang Peace Corps ng United Kingdom.” The regional director, who happened to be a feminist, questioned his lifestyle of “weekend parties with beauty queens.”
Bastillo says he saw the wisdom in his failure to get that job. A month before, in fact, he was literally in a party with Ruffa Gutierrez and other beauty queens. He realized at around 2 a.m. that he had a flight to Bukidnon at 5 a.m. He was supposed to help an indigenous group to prepare their ancestral domain’s sustainable development and protection plan.
He recalls with amusement how he rushed from the party to the airport and barely made it to his flight. When he got to Bukidnon, he was driven to the hinterlands and had to ride a habal-habal with four other passengers on the motor bike to get to his destination.
“Ang tawag ko nga doon sa (I call that) experience, primordial,” he says, laughing. “When the world was young. Ang buong trip na ’yun (That whole trip) took more than two hours, and half of the time it was raining. Can you imagine? Pagdating do’n, tribo-tribo ang dadatnan mo (When you got there, you were met with the sight of tribe upon tribe). In a matter of hours, ang mundo mo nag-iba (your whole world changed).”
He realized then that he should be more consistent with what he was always saying.
“That was the life… Most people don’t like that, but I like that. Adrenaline rush. I like the pristine environment, but the challenges to development, ando’n lahat (it’s all there). Not to mention all that cultural sensitivity.”
Looking ahead
These days, Bastillo is focused on his work at SBCorp, melding his past experiences as a development management consultant and even, at one point, an entrepreneur co-owning and running a rice mill. He points out, “For almost four years, up until the years of the pandemic, I was with a private financing company that’s foreign-owned but has a mission to finance the missing middle. Ito ’yung small and medium enterprise. They’re too small for the bank but too big for the microfinancing institutions. And so even the BSP says there’s not enough focus on these businesses. Pero ’yun ang may future growth potential.”
That’s what he’s pushing now at SBCorp, never mind if he once told himself he won’t work again in government. “Parang naisip ko at that time na mag-serve na lang. Sayang naman ang lahat ng experiences ko kung hindi ko naman magamit, and I thought SBCorp. provided the perfect platform para makapag
-serve ako as I like walk in the sunset… I embrace it fully. Paggising ko, ’yan din ang motivation ko.”