Assalamu alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuh.

A habit that I bring to any new post is to read the founding law first, not the organizational chart, nor the latest financial report.

So, in my first week as Chairperson and CEO of the Al-Amanah Islamic Investment Bank of the Philippines (AAIIBP), I set aside a morning, sat down with a copy of Republic Act No. 6848, the bank's charter, and began to read.

The charter is not long, but it is deliberate. It fixes the bank’s main office in Zamboanga City, allows branches anywhere in the country or abroad, and sets authorized capital at one billion pesos, split into shares reserved for government entities and shares open to private Filipino and foreign investors.

In practice, private subscription never took hold — today, as a subsidiary of the Development Bank of the Philippines, the bank operates almost entirely under state ownership. But the charter's most important line, to me, is simpler: the bank exists to accelerate the socio-economic development of the Autonomous Region — now the Bangsamoro — through banking done according to Islamic principles, not interest-bearing transactions.

The charter also spells out how the bank is governed: A nine-member Board of Directors (Board) elected by shareholders, who meet at least quarterly, and with the broadest powers to manage the bank's affairs.

The original 1990 text provides for the Board to choose its own Chairman from among its members, who then also serves as CEO. The charter likewise provides for the creation of a Shari’a Advisory Council—unique to Islamic banks—composed of not more than five members, who are selected from among Islamic scholars and jurists of comparative law.

The Council shall offer advice and undertake reviews pertaining to the application of the principles of the Islamic Shari’a to the Bank’s transactions, but shall not directly involve itself in the Bank’s operations.

Put plainly: A regular bank makes money by charging interest. It lends you money, and whether your business succeeds or fails, you owe the same amount back, plus interest, on schedule.

Under this charter, Al-Amanah cannot work that way. Interest, or riba, is treated in Islamic teaching as unfair — a guaranteed profit regardless of what happens to the borrower.

So instead, the charter requires the bank to share in the outcome: Earning through real economic activity — buying and selling goods at an agreed price, leasing assets, or entering ventures as a partner — rather than a fixed charge for the mere passage of time.

For us Muslim Filipinos, a conventional loan was never simply a financial choice — interest-based lending was something our faith did not allow.

For generations, that kept many outside the formal banking system. I agree with the people who wrote this charter: closing that gap meant building a bank Muslim Filipinos could use without compromising their faith. A regular bank asks only whether you can repay. Amanah shares the risk of whether you can.

The story beneath the charter is older than I expected. What is now AAIIBP began in 1973 as the Philippine Amanah Bank, created by a presidential decree under President Ferdinand Marcos Sr. — one of the first Islamic banks in Southeast Asia.

In 1990, it was re-chartered under RA 6848 into the Universal Bank I now lead; that same year, branches in Cotabato, Jolo, and Marawi began accepting deposits under the new framework. More than fifty years after that first charter, it remains the first and only full-fledged Islamic bank in the country.

I keep returning to Marawi — the historic center of the Maranao people, the community I belong to. This charter was not written for an abstraction called “the Autonomous Region.” It was written, in part, for markets needing capital and families needing a bank willing to meet them halfway.

Beyond the mechanics — musharakah, murabaha, the sharing of risk and reward — the charter kept bringing me back to one simple word in its own name: amanah. In our faith, it means trust: something valuable placed in your hands by people who expect you to protect it and use it well.

I believe that is what this bank was named for, and I believe it is what the charter was really written to protect, not just deposits, but a promise that a whole region’s economic future would be someone’s responsibility to carry forward.

By the time I closed the charter that evening, in that first week, I understood my new post differently than I had that morning. It was not simply an appointment. It was the trust of generations who believed that economic opportunity should never require anyone to choose between financial security and their faith—a promise to build a financial institution where faith and opportunity grow together, and where no Filipino is left behind because the system was never built with them in mind.

That is the responsibility I now embrace.

Beyond budget, I begin this journey with humility and a deep sense of stewardship. I am committed to building an institution worthy of the trust placed in it more than fifty years ago—one that expands Islamic banking, advances financial inclusion, and demonstrates that public institutions can remain faithful to both their mandate and the people they were created to serve.

Some promises are written into law. The most enduring ones are fulfilled by the people entrusted to carry them forward.

(Amenah F. Pangandaman is the former Secretary of the Department of Budget and Management.)