Chapter 76: Requesting Support from Government
The moment Timothy said they’d get into business, the president’s face hardened into something more official.
"Go on," Farcos said, folding his hands on the desk.
"Just like we have informed you, we would want to invest billions in the Philippines to build a gigafactory and compete in the automotive industry in the field of electric vehicles," Timothy began. "What we want from your administration is support to fast-track permits, licenses, and the clearances that usually take years to process."
Farcos arched a brow. "You’re asking me to cut through the bureaucracy?"
"I’m asking you to clear a path," Timothy replied evenly. "We’re ready to move fast—construction can start within the year. But if we get buried in red tape, the whole project slows, and so does the benefit to the country."
The president leaned back, tapping a finger on the desk. "And in return, what do I tell the Filipino people? What do they gain from this factory of yours? Jobs? Lower-priced cars? Prestige?"
Timothy nodded once. "All of the above. Tens of thousands of jobs during construction and operations. A real EV industry built here, not imported. And vehicles that Filipinos can actually afford. We’ll make sure it isn’t just another foreign brand setting up shop to take money out of the country. This is local, Mr. President. Built here. By our people. And whatever legacy this could bring, it will be synonymous with your administration. Think about it."
Farcos narrowed his eyes, weighing the words. "Flattery is cheap, Mr. Guerrero. Tell me what you really want."
Timothy leaned forward slightly. "Then let’s speak plainly. We want the same incentives governments in the West offered when they wanted to attract EV investment. When Tesla built its first gigafactory in Nevada, the state government provided over a billion dollars in tax incentives, land-use privileges, and infrastructure support. That’s the kind of framework we’re looking for here—scaled appropriately for the Philippines."
The room went still. Farcos exchanged a quick glance with Villanueva, then looked back at Timothy. "You’re asking me to waive billions in taxes for you? You realize how that sounds to the public?"
Timothy shook his head. "Not waive—defer. Give us corporate tax breaks and exemptions in the early years when we’re pouring capital into construction and operations. Once the factory is running and the cars are rolling out, the taxes you collect from payroll, suppliers, consumer sales, and exports will more than cover it. Think long-term revenue, not short-term collection."
Villanueva spoke cautiously. "Mr. President, incentives are standard for foreign investors. If we don’t match or at least approximate what other countries offer, projects of this scale usually go elsewhere."
Farcos drummed his fingers on the desk, eyes never leaving Timothy. "And you’re saying that without these tax breaks, this gigafactory of yours doesn’t happen?"
Timothy’s answer was calm but unyielding. "I’m saying it would be harder to justify keeping it here. We could build in Vietnam, Thailand, even Indonesia—they’re already courting EV companies with aggressive incentives. I want this factory in Subic, in the Philippines. But we need the government to meet us halfway. After all, we can’t do this alone."
The president leaned back in his chair, lips pressed thin, thinking. The benefits of constructing a gigafactory in the Philippines would put the country into the global spotlight, a feather in his administration’s cap. Jobs, technology transfer, exports—all of it sounded good on paper.
Finally, Farcos exhaled through his nose and nodded once. "Very well. I will guarantee the incentives you ask for. Tax holidays, fast-tracked permits, land-use privileges. You’ll have the full support of my administration."
Timothy gave a short nod. "That’s good to hear, Mr. President."
But then Farcos raised a finger. "On one condition."
Timothy’s eyes narrowed. "And that is?"
The president’s smirk returned, though his tone was laced with seriousness. "A project of this scale, in my country, under my administration—it would be foolish not to secure the national interest. I want a share of the company. Not on paper through taxes, but a direct equity stake for the government."
The room chilled. Hana shifted beside Timothy, her hand tightening slightly on her folder.
Timothy shook his head immediately. "That won’t work, Mr. President."
Farcos arched a brow. "Why not? It’s fair. I give you political cover and resources, the country gains ownership."
Timothy’s voice stayed steady, but firm. "Because government shares mean government influence. The moment you—or any future administration—have a stake, decisions stop being about efficiency and innovation. They become political. Budgets get redirected. Appointments get compromised. Corruption seeps in. I won’t risk this project becoming another state-controlled boondoggle."
Villanueva shifted uneasily, but Timothy pressed on, leaning forward.
"I’ll give the Philippines far more than a token shareholding ever could. Jobs, local supplier contracts, tax revenue once the factory is running. That’s real benefit, not a seat on the board that will only drag the company into political games. If you want national interest safeguarded, do it through regulation, not ownership."
For a moment, silence stretched in the room. Farcos studied him, clearly not used to being told "no."
"Look, we really want to build the gigafactory in the Philippines, because this is my country. But if you were to suggest that again, I would be compelled to look for another country to build my gigafactory. I don’t care if my fellow countrymen call me a traitor, but I just have one response to them if they so demand an explanation—’I offered it here first. You turned it into politics.’"
The words landed heavy in the room. Hana kept her eyes low, but a faint smirk tugged at her lips; Timothy had spoken with finality, and he meant every word.
Farcos leaned back in his chair, silent for a beat, then let out a low chuckle. "You’ve got teeth, Guerrero. Most men your age would be begging at this desk, not threatening to walk away."
"I’m not here to beg, Mr. President," Timothy replied evenly. "I’m here to build something that will last."
The president’s smirk softened into a half-smile. He gave a slow nod. "Very well. No shares. I only wanted to see if you’d fold under pressure. You didn’t—and that tells me you’re serious."
Villanueva exhaled quietly, the tension in the room easing.
Farcos leaned forward now, voice lower, more measured. "Then let’s proceed on your terms. Incentives, clearances, land—consider them guaranteed."