Manila, 1981 . A chauffeur-driven white Mercedes weaves in and out of the traffic backed up along what could well be a street in downtown Manhattan. This is Makati, its modern skyscrapers housing the business and financial elite of the Philippines. In the back seat sits a well-dressed Filipino businessman whose fortune has been amassed over the decades through production of goods for the domestic market. This man has earned the epithet of economic "nationalist" by keeping his hands fairly clean of involvement with foreign corporations and foreign markets. But times are changing. "Export or perish," he repeats several times. First stop: the investment house of the Philippines' largest commercial bank, to converse with influential friends in the hope Of obtaining a sizable loan to convert his production processes to suit the export market. Second stop: a government office to register for tax exemptions bestowed upon exporters. "A tragedy," he explains on his way back to the limousine. "The Philippines is importing a perfect substitute for what I will be producing .... But

with all the loans and tax exemptions reserved solely for exporters, how can I afford not to export, instead of producing for the local market?"

Manila, 1981 . Marikina, Manila's shoe district. On the door of an old, nondescript building that had housed his small footwear factory, a man, less well dressed than the exporter above, nails a hastily painted sign: "Out of business." A group of uniformed, giggling schoolgirls skip by. He stares at their shiny yellow, blue, and pink plastic shoes, the kind from Jap