In 2016, I organized our annual Japan Study Mission, but we weren’t just doing the standard ‘bowing at robots’ tour of Kaizen powerhouses. It was a surreal experience. My business partner, Kenji Kitamura, a man who basically has Toyota DNA instead of white blood cells – led us into the Toyota Tahara factory, where he worked as a junior engineer in 1979.
That’s why even after 10 years, I could still recall this vivid experience.
Kenji-sensei moved through the place like a man revisiting a sacred temple. It was so precise it made my wristwatch look like a drunken Ninja master trying to read a sundial in a thunderstorm.
The moment we entered, I knew it wasn’t our usual industrial field trip. Even the silence felt engineered. If someone dropped a screw, I suspect three engineers would file a report while two would redesign gravity even without management prodding.
I was trying not to breathe too hard and disrupt production flow. And so were my clients who were equally impressed and at the same time intimidated by the idea that a misplaced eyebrow hair could probably violate quality standards.
We weren’t just touring the birthplace of Lexus-level perfection. We stood in the same spot where New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman was inspired to write The Lexus and the Olive Tree (1999). He saw globalization. I saw something more important – a workforce so disciplined that even their coffee breaks arrived just-in-time.
At one point, I stared at a perfectly aligned car door panel of a displayed model and caught my reflection – clear enough to check my haircut. It was then I realized: this wasn’t just manufacturing. It was choreography. Every movement had a purpose. Every second had a job. Even my blinking felt inefficient.
It hit me. If perfection had a headquarters, this was the closest thing the auto industry has to a manufacturing cathedral. But don’t rush to visit Toyota Tahara. Today, it has become extremely difficult to visit the factory and other Toyota facilities due to its many restrictions since the pandemic.
The Lexus vs the balete tree
In The Lexus and the Olive Tree, Friedman uses a simple but sticky metaphor: the Lexus stands for globalization, progress and economic growth; the olive tree represents identity, roots and what gives people a sense of belonging. For us Filipinos, the olive tree is equivalent to the magnanimous balete tree.
Let’s turn that into some real work to understand today’s oil supply issue. It’s a contest between progress and identity. We’ve spent years treating them like two neighbors who refuse to share a fence. Many of us want both – until the bill arrives in the form of an oil crisis.
Today’s energy problem isn’t just about supply shocks and rising prices. It’s about how we think. Governments want economic expansion powered by reliable fuel supply. Societies want clean air and continuous livelihood for its citizens. Businessmen want sustainable profit.
In practice, we treat these as competing goals, forcing a choice between driving the Lexus or protecting the balete tree. That’s the mistake.
The oil crisis persists because we frame it as an either-or decision. It’s like trying to lose weight without giving up dessert – possible in theory, but disastrous in execution. What we need is integration, not substitution.
For governments, that means investing in renewable energy while protecting consumers and workers who depend on oil-based industries. For businesses, it means funding innovation that makes clean energy profitable, not just compliant.
For managers, it means translating strategy into behavior. And to help people see that change is not a threat to their identity but a path to preserving it. Leadership here is less about technology and more about empathy. People don’t resist progress; they resist losing what defines them.
The real challenge is not choosing between the Lexus and the balete tree. It’s building a future where the Lexus runs clean and is parked carefully, without uprooting the tree that gives it meaning.
Solving the oil crisis requires integration, not substitution. We must go beyond the ‘either-or’ mentality that pits economic progress against cultural identity. True leadership involves building a sustainable future where the Lexus runs clean without uprooting the trees that give our lives meaning.