Hong Kong was home to us for nearly 15 years: we embraced the city, fell in love with it, lived happily with it, fell out of love with it, went through a reconciliation with it and eventually, like the torrid end of a bad love affair, finally moved out, not only to another country but another continent! 15 years is long enough for any relationship to have a deep impact and wistful thoughts, like those of a fondly remembered lover, occupy our minds daily – Captain Wong waving madly at us from the driving seat of the 97 Wong Shek Bus, the dirty mechanical smell of the Star Ferry's old engines, seeing distant Macau glisten in the evening sun from the very top of Victoria Peak... Sipping coffees in the many wi-fi friendly cafés of our new home city in the Czech Republic, we have been able to maintain a steady review of the on-line lives of our good Hong Kong friends that we bade farewell to earlier this year. Their weekly, even yearly, routines are so familiar because they were the habits we had ourselves adopted and then found difficult to release; the kids' morning bus runs, hurried lunches with colleagues, experiencing the relief of school holidays, waiting for the release of the end of term and pouring all remaining life into desperately mad weekends. Six months on from the final completion of all of our work contracts and academic requirements we found ourselves living in the city still half-clinging to these modes, more out of habit than affection.
When reflecting on the long hours at work and the desperate weekend playtimes that emerged from such a poor and widespread work-life balance (the deleterious effects of which we continue to see in the lives of friends, colleagues and acquaintances), we came to realise that it was decision time: for to accede that if health allowed our lives would continue in the same old way until retirement was a dreadful prospect, one that would eventually prompt either of us to reach for the revolver. Getting out of Hong Kong was, therefore, not simply to change the scenery or career or to merit some other excuse – it had become a necessity.
From our breakfast terrace balcony we daily observed the hurried departure of ex-colleagues and their children for busy desks and noisy classrooms. It all seemed to become stranger and more distant from us, particularly so when for the rest of the day there remained an enjoyable, placid calm in the Sai Kung Country Park. We had already seen many attractive alternatives to the established frenetic Hong Kong lifestyle we had hitherto led, but most of these were inevitably linked, one way or another, to the pursuit of the dollar in other money-oriented places – Dubai, Saudi, Singapore, Bognor. In the end we felt that in order to make an honest and genuine change in our lives we would not only have to leave Hong Kong but also change our lifestyle.
It is not difficult to love Pearl of the Orient, the fascinating magical kingdom of glitter and gold, of filth and squalor, of daily chances that permit amazing opportunities. It is, however, an extraordinary city that exists in a bubble of its own making, where it is always safe to walk the streets at any hour of the day or night, where there is minimal interference in personal affairs from government, where the accountants are good and the taxes really low. No doubt it is possible to get as rich in other cities, but Hong Kong’s famous and somewhat nebulous quality is its Midas touch that enables those with the merest whiff of entrepreneurship the means and opportunity to create and achieve success: ‘it's all about the money’. Money talks in this town and enables a very pleasant and pleasure-dependent lifestyle. Surely, then, it would be foolish, if not crazy, to leave such a place of great opportunity? The answer is, of course, ‘yes’, yet that’s exactly what we did. Doesn’t that then make us foolish (if not crazy)?
I gave a rather convoluted works leaving speech to a receptive but somewhat puzzled bunch of fellow-teachers in which I briefly discussed this decision, one that seemed to lack good sense. I admitted that to leave a well-paid place of work with only a very vague conception of our income and future lives seemed the epitome of commonly accepted notions of folly. And yet realising all this, and with sadness in our hearts, we upped and left the magic kingdom, its opportunities and freedom, its protection and safety, its lovely people and the streets that we know so well. Why?
In recent years it became evident that the development of a teaching career and any pecuniary rewards that came with it were neither sufficient nor possible (nor desirable). Both of us were well aware of short-sightedness and ineptitude in Education management decision-making that, coupled with work environment issues (and the rewards that such extra responsibility held), yearly soured any appetite we had for career advancement within the system. It was not that we belittled or disdained Education, nor the enjoyment of earning good money. No, it was more that we could no longer swallow the bitter pill of a life that we no longer believed in.
Actually, it was even more than this. For me, crunch time came one Friday night in Wanchai when I realized that I had been short-changed: lots of good money had been spent on travel into town and on drinks with friends in a noisy and familiar bar, but the usual pleasure promised by this investment failed to materialize. My friends were happy and we continued the revelry, as before, well into the night, but the price for my pleasure had suddenly risen and I was not sure the next time would be any better. Before me, therefore, were several options: drink more (and spend more and therefore earn more), seek yet other diversions, find an all-consuming perversion or just stop! I couldn’t continue like this forever. I wanted to get off the merry-go-round.
Of course, there are those that do not at heart believe in their religion and yet continue to go through the motions required of them; they attend services or festivals, keep up appearances and, when required, say the right things. But do we not disapprove of such people? Indeed, we are quite keen on pointing out such hypocrisy. Surely it is better to come clean, shake off the dishonesty, lay to rest all that expected doublespeak – even if doing so has a social cost. Wisdom decrees that merely conforming to other people's expectations is a lost cause; eventually conscience wins through, the tension of maintaining such a dishonest position breaks, something has to give.
In a similar way we decided to give up Hong Kong and all it had. It was easy enough to walk away from the constricting work environment and the bad air pollution, but it also meant leaving behind our good friends and the means to acquire good money. We resolved it was time to move on, even with a massive drop in salary (about 9/10ths of our combined Hong Kong income) to another country – the culture of which we knew little and the language even less. Of course we could not have made this move without the good money already earned, but we resolved that our future lives should no longer be constrained by old worries that had brought misery. Our mantra in all this became, ‘It's not about the money’. We certainly needed a certain amount of courage to make that decision and leave all that we had grown to know, but is it possible we can say now that have what we wanted?
So far our new lives are just as rich, if not richer, than they were before, our experiences just as full and our relationship has become deeper. We’ve lost all that damaging stress, have been able to sleep all night and have begun to effortlessly shed weight. Each morning feels like the beginning of a holiday and weekends are simply the days when the city streets are quieter. We have to pinch ourselves that we now free to do the things that we really enjoy and are no longer at the beck and call of anyone. By simply taking the chase for money out of the equation, our lives are better. Do we have what we want? The answer is an emphatic, ‘yes!’
Admittedly we really miss the long rambling walks within the beautiful Sai Kung Country Park (our poor doggies miss running off to chase the naughty monkeys – they still bark at them in their noisy dreams), but it is great to be in walking distance of anywhere in this old city. We ache for the scenic splendour of the cicada-thronged and perfumed forests on mountains that rise from the warm South China Sea, but now live in the midst of beautiful ancient buildings known to Mozart, Mahler and Dvorak. We miss our wonderful old friends, but have met some great people here –friends of the future. We fondly remember the mad evenings of merriment and mayhem in Wanchai, Mid-Levels and Lan Kwai Fong that ended in long taxi rides home, but have already had some great nights out here, at a fraction of the cost, and have been able to stumble through the cobbled streets back home to bed.
We may now have less cash in our pockets, but things are cheaper here. Our Hong Kong acquisitional lifestyle centred on lusting after things that are quintessentially inessential, if not damaging; aspirational luxuries, nice though they may be, are necessarily transient. I cannot deny the enjoyment of shopping in the hallowed air-conditioned malls of Central, but also recall balking at the ever-rising prices and of the glad smugness of being within such a good wage bracket –and all for consumery stuff that we didn’t really need. We are not building empires nor forging dynasties, we are not planning on retiring in a deck chair on a cruise ship or settling into another day's drinking on the same poolside bar stool. Although money may be able to buy love of sorts, it certainly can't buy happiness. So, without the stress that chasing the dollar entails we probably get even greater pleasure from our lives, seek personal growth without opening bottles of wine (nice though they are), and strive a little harder for integrity by talking more and taking a little more notice. The city of Olomouc is by no means a paradise and no-one moves here to get rich. But so far – and in so many ways – our life here has proven, if such a point ever required clarification, that not only is there life after school but there’s also life after Hong Kong. We simply chose Europe over Thailand!
Here then are the reasons we chose to subtract those ingredients in our lives that were not good so that we could instead concentrate on those that we always loved. Reducing our complete reliance and our terrifying dependence on one ingredient, that fearsome jewel of a monthly salary (the security of which we once thought would be impossible to live without and so long the major focus of our lives), has taken some adjustment. For myself, leaving Hong Kong, the city I thought I would die in, and removing to a small provincial city of the Czech Republic has been a great adventure, one that could only have been imagined if tethered to a regular job. Although it is obviously impossible to live without money, we believe that life is more, much more than mere dollars, is more than a job with a good salary or a stellar career with drive and ambition. It's high time we lived according to our beliefs.
This final of the trilogy is an attempt to review the current zeitgeist of Hong Kong, to suggest directions it should now pursue and to make summary of our time living in Hong Kong. Blogs are essentially rants, often angry and best forgotten, but this post is written with a sense of the gravity of impending times. So please allow repetition of what was said in the first of the trilogy, that I make appeal to that
which moves a person and that it should strike a resonant chord in order to provoke discourse and, hopefully,
action. It is also noted, with some serendipity, that this is my 100th post!
In the previous post a brief sketch of the political background was given along with brief outlines of education and the undelrying theme of the centrality of wealth acquisition. Although within this excellent city there are innumerable fascinating examples from which to choose, those in this post are language and ethnicity, domestic helpers, and housing and accommodation. This post has caused some difficulty, not least because the intention was to steer away from sounding like another useless complaint against the inescable negative foibles thrown up by life in the Pearl of the Orient. In fact, the beloved city of Hong Kong and its beloved people have a charmed place in the world – one that requires wisdom and intelligent direction.
Language and Ethnicity
In our time here Hong Kong's population has increased by at least 1 ½ million to a little over 7. This statistic appears to contradict the fact that the fun-loving boys and girls of the city are simply not having enough babies to effortlessly sustain this growing economy – 0.9 per child-bearing woman, way below the required replacement rate of 2.1. In fact, the increase has been achieved largely through immigration. The city has always been a transient place and because of the nature of work here will probably always be thus, nevertheless each year more settle than leave (or die). The constant and consistent population growth has been one of the largest engines of this perpetually expanding economy fuelling the demand for housing, services and infrastructure and constantly prompting the expected sale of government land to this end. More on this later, but future economic dependency must surely encompass other dimensions and not merely rest on the bedrock of lucrative land sales to already-profitable individuals and companies. Hong Kong and the world deserve something better.
94% of Hong Kong's population is ethnic Chinese, either home grown or specially imported (everything, even the people, are imported from China). That ethnicity, however, is somewhat difficult to ascertain because the perception of one's origins –Guangzhou, Shanghai, Beijing, Bognor Regis– can get a little blurred after a few years domicile in Kowloon City. Obviously this is a very personal thing, but has to do with an established and local mind-set: Hong Kongers are tearful, flag-waving Chinese only up to a point! Even ethnic Chinese returning here from western countries can find it hard to fit in and may forever feel like outsiders: their co-patriots sneeringly call them bananas – yellow on the outside, white on the inside. Apart from the more obvious minority skin differentiations amongst South Asians, real ethnic identity appears, therefore, to be focused on mother tongue usage, particularly at home. Some families may speak three or more languages each day, but prefer one when seated around the dinner table. Indeed, it is possible to walk down Nathan Road and hear 20 or more languages and dialects being casually spoken, and yet most are able to get by using Cantonese.
Getting by in Cantonese, however, can be a minefield of uncertainties. It may begin with a puppy-like glimmer of semi-encouragements, grow in to a confusing mix of happy discoveries and semi-encouragements only ultimately to miserably sit a constant and dismal puddly reminder of overall linguistic failure. How is it 20 million people learn this language as babies but I can't ask the time properly? There are no tenses, for God's sake! God knows I've tried – indeed I cannot recall how many times I have given taxi drivers simple directions in the clearest, best-remembered Cantonese only to be met by furrowed brows that deepen with each more sinicised repetition until finally something clicks, there is a long "Ahhh!" and those very same words with identical nuance and tone is parroted. I swear, and sometimes audibly, that they bloody do it out of grudging and deliberate obduracy... Sorry, I promised not to rant!
By the way, there's no Knowledge required of taxi drivers as there is with the London cabby – Hong Kong's taxi drivers simply queue up to buy their license, get in, start her up and wander about, puzzled passenger within, until they find the required address – or not! If they don't know where they're going they may a) 'fess up with a "You show me?", or b) bluster merrily until the see by your red-faced interjections that they're going the wrong way. And don't get me started on the evaporation of taxis in the rain or at 'changeover' time, whatever that is, or of charging double for the tunnels, or the shameless shouting down the phone to their mates, or of belching, farting and drinking beer whilst driving or of leaving bottles of taxi driver's lemonade at the traffic lights... Upon our emigration in '98 drivers we learned a lot about Hong Kong from good and amicable taxi drivers, but they have ceased bothering to chatt, amicably or otherwise,
in English at all. They are a belligerent lot, as are taxi drivers in any city of the world, but surely it's time the public required them do a better job, one worthy of Asia's World City? Sorry – this has become an extended taxi rant!
Sadly racism, like many other negative and primitive hindrances in our social make-up, appears to be near-universal on this planet. Although Hong Kong was no stranger to racism in the past, largely by the colonial Brits, public and physical demonstrations of a racist nature are pretty much unheard of or kept carefully hidden behind the closed doors of slang Cantonese in schoolrooms or unleashed from the carefree tongues of market traders. Funny foreign names, especially south asian ones, may merely provoke titters or unequivocally act as surreptitious hindrances to flat viewing and job opportunities. Having said that, as outsiders in a new culture the Mem and meself felt no outward hostility upon our arrival and, apart from the odd quizzical checks askance on the minibus or at the local Wellcome supermarket, we have felt entirely comfortable and fully at home here: I guess compared with some we're lucky. In truth, it has been hard to leave this comfort zone. For the local population racism may not be fully recognised or even viewed for what it is, but it is a cancer that requires excising – from all walks of life and if legislation is required then so be it: only good can come from such a focus.
Domestic Helpers
If in this city, as elsewhere, wealth is the indicator of status then those at the bottom of the Hong Kong heap are the most despised – the homeless, those with menial jobs, asylum seekers, anyone with dark skins. Included in that are the ubiquitous domestic helpers, the invaluable labour force of around 274,000 – that's 4% of the population. Many of these poor girls from the Philippines, Indonesia and Sri Lanka may be expected to work more hours than their employer is awake, daily scour floors and walls, provide gourmet meals on every occasion, keep the car spotless inside and out, endlessly child mind, care for elderly parents, provide security when the family are elsewhere AND sleep without air-conditioning, sometimes in a shed on the roof or on the kitchen floor with the dog (this is still expected by some employers). This they do for the minimum wage provided: HK$3,920 (US$505) per month. The employer may also be expected to provide a food allowance of HK$875 (US$112) per month. Whilst this sum amounts to more than a lawyer or doctor would acquire outside Manila, Jakarta or Colombo, in practice these human beings are often expected to work under near-slave-like conditions and may suffer from endless berating, beatings and sexual abuse. Other than their holiday time, their only glimpse of their own children growing up at home may be the occasional photo or phone call. In addition, the employer may take away their passport and not pay wages for months only to ultimately plant jewellery in their suitcase and call the police. Then there's the case of a helper 'falling' from an apartment window when that troublesome payment time ultimately came round. In reality, accused domestic helpers don't have a legal leg to stand on (it's their word against the employer's), they will almost certainly be jailed only to be deported, never again able to obtain employment in HK or elsewhere unless desperation drives them to choose somewhere like Saudi Arabia.
Why do some put up with all this? Permanent employment in Hong Kong means that their families back home have the chance to escape poverty; it's probably very few of us reading this blog share a similar background. Millions of people rely on regular incomes sent home to alleviate suffering, build houses and pay for their family's education (remittances account for a yearly US$24 billion injection into the Philippine economy). So it's ok to have a seat with the family at a restaurant (glass of water if you're lucky) in order to chase the fidgety children around the tables all evening whilst the parents get on with the business of eating and having a good time, it's ok to be daily shouted at, to be cursed, to keep all your possessions locked in a suit case: the monthly remittances are Western Unioned home and the families offer thankful prayers on Sundays and late-night phone calls in return.
Unlike the United Kingdom, many Hong Kong families, including our own, have
employed domestic helpers, enabling both parents to work, the dog to get
walked, the house to be cleaned and the children be safe at home. To obtain a good reliable helper is an achievement
in itself and for some she becomes an extension of the family. Any helper will tell you that being employed by a gwailo family is often a better and less demanding deal for them
too. So, it's not all that bad for some in ole Hong Kong: each Sunday after church they gather in their thousands at any available open space and do what Filipinas love the most – sitting around chatting, eat chicken wings and letting off a bit of steam. Sometimes they'll get a group together and sing and jig about to the sound of guitar and tambourine, praising God for his miracles in their lives. If they're lucky they may find love interest, maybe a serious boyfren' or even husban' – the answer to the whole family's daily prayers...
Perhaps one way to view the way domestic helpers are treated is as an indicator of the health of Hong Kong society, a barometer of social
trends regarding the way Hong Kongers think about their city and those within it. And yet – to broach discussion on such things with many-a local Chinese is to court a certain amount of ire. Long-gone are the days of the poor pig-tailed Chinese amah who sweatily argued for cheap bean sprouts at the local market stall, baby on hip. Some of my students saw domestic helpers only as lazy, opportunistic, money-grabbing spongers that the local population only endured because they needed squeaky clean clothes each morning and a squeaky clean car to drive the kids to school. I've seen so many children (and parents) get a little too used to proxy parenting; picking up after them, tidying their rooms, walking five paces behind them carrying their bags to school, their only care when sick. These permanent babies never learn how to pick up after themselves or use the Hoover or know how to iron or even cook and wash-up and it is almost certainly expected that they will have their own domestic helpers in adulthood. So ingrained are they kids to this life that in classroom discussions it was sometimes hard for them to see that the difference between indentured slavery and the lot of some Hong Kong domestic helpers can oft be slim indeed. Yes, it may be worse in other countries, but that doesn't make it right in Hong Kong.
Accommodation
On paper Hong Kong has it all – a welfare state by which all needs are met from cradle to grave. In truth, this society deals a mixed hand to those that require benefits. When all eyes are turned upwards it may be hard to look down. School and kindergartens are packed sometimes with 40, 50 or even 60 to a class. Hospital wards are infamously crowded because of the economic benefits of meeting their needs en masse. Some patients decide not to return home to their even-more crowded apartments and stay for years, even if each ward has 24-hours of TV blaring cartoons and Cantosoaps. 'Retirement' homes are truly dreadful, dingily-lit waiting rooms of death where waist-height partitions separate the unfortunate and uncomplaining old folks.
Even in this land of superstition and ancestor-reverence the bodies of the dead are sometimes forgotten and left for the government to deal with: after the customary burial time the relatives are supposed to disinter the fleshless remains for transference to ossuaries or commit the remains for final cremation. This rather unpleasant duty, however, is increasingly not done by the more fussy of families – a constant headache for the government's Cemeteries and Crematoria Department. Land prices are so high that 'coffin spaces' in government graveyards are not held in perpetuity! After six year's interment, and regardless of family consent, the space is re-used, the remains disinterred and cremated and then re-interred at the Sandy Ridge cemetery near the border with Shenzhen.
Hong Kong land prices hold such a vaunted premium and command a value way above their actuality in raw materials. As mentioned earlier, land sales are one of the most-revved engines of the economy and forms a permanent grip on the average Hong Konger's psyche that one of the litmus tests for any des res area is the number of realty or estate agents shops. This is how the engine works:
the government mandarins are ever-seeking politically-expedient ways to generate income and regularly does so through the tried-and tested selling/auctioning off of gazetted sites dotted all over the territory,
the boys who 'have' (corporations/powerful and rich families) put in their tender for development as close as dammit to their margin of profitability,
the sale usually goes to the highest bidder,
most of the planning gets whizzed through and processed pronto (unless some bearded lefty cries the frightful words 'environment' or 'heritage'),
building starts using imported (and illegal) cheap Chinese labour who get killed in accidents,
by this time the realty agents with connections to the developers begin pitching – this results in multiple besuited property agents on the streets eager to escort potential customers around showhome apartments or office space in cut-throat competition,
all flats/offices are bought immediately and then sold again for profit – square feet of sky can exchange hands several times before the builders even get there,
by this time the average Wong or Chan family have scraped together enough dough to put up the deposit for an apartment, office or retail space is a slightly different kettle of fish,
the flat is rented out to cover cost of mortgage or the retail/office rent is set for maximum income within the allotted lease (usually 2 years) with the management taking note of the success of the business.
The whole economy benefits from development – the government coffers are filled, the developer's stock value increases, the workers get paid, the café owners sell lunches and taxi and bus drivers transport to and fro, the Wongs and Chans get a foot on the property ladder (and a little social caché), the new occupants get a home and service providers get income. Above all, the financial institutions of Hong Kong benefit from every transaction at every level.
So what's wrong with this system? It is that people are considered less than the dollar at each point in the process: yes, there isn't a Hong Konger who doesn't like it when the government is in the black, or that work is plentiful, or that they are able to buy and rent new properties, but people come second to the mighty dollar. This inevitably leads to social problems for some – overwork and stress, bad borrowing and the inevitable complications for family life and overall social stability. It has also led to staggering inflation in the housing market to impossible and unsustainable levels – since 2009 property prices have risen by a staggering 110%! Great for developers, very very bad for first-time purchasers or low-income families that may wayit for years from the Housing Authority Department.
The bubble that is the Hong Kong housing market has long-been expected to burst. Thus far price have consistently risen largely on the backs of cheap borrowing and a plethora of mainland Chinese investors hoping to put their cash into something more solid than that available in China – something beyond their shores yet not too far away. The Hong Kong housing market has hitherto seemed the most secure of investments. But all good things must come to an end and just as in 1997 property prices inevitably took a dive, and sank all those chained with them, it looks like that time may be immanent.
For many the government policy regarding housing appears to have been mostly the latter of
an all-or-nothing approach, a timid floundering around the edges aware only of the political value of everyone's greed
and unbridled success and unable to take on the necessary and steely boldness of governance faced with tough decisions. No-one wants to be told they can't make as much money next year as they did this, or that their property's value may not actually equal the price paid, but if the government had not been so hands-off in the past few years then the expected property crash would not be so severe and uncontrolled. In truth, it's what has been experienced the world-over since 2008, but by its very nature Hong Kong has been immune to this.
The expected property devaluation, however, will not be the real issue for many Hong Kongers. Human cogs in the various machines of wealth, many are happy merely to put rice on the table and hope not get ill and take dips in wages or have to pay medical costs. At the very bottom of the ladder are those who can afford little more than a box to inhabit, such is the chronic state of public housing. Over the years, and with limited success, the government has tried many grand housing schemes, such as clearing slums and erecting massive public housing estates and even building new towns in the boondocks, but people vote with their feet and overcrowded and often dangerous private housing is rife.
Apart from cardboard boxes under flyovers, the infamous cages have always been the very cheapest accommodation in the city. These squalid, Dickensian conditions just should not exist in one of the world's richest cities – they are another testament to what is wrong in eden: their inhabitants the detritus of society, the poorest, most powerless and least heard of all Hong Kong's people.
To Conclude
Many Hong Kongers do not realise they have such an amazing role to fulfill as those who really have it all – money, opportunity, political awareness and individual conscience. Perhaps growing up in the territory has engendered amongst many a sense of entitlement without responsibility (whereas it could be argued the converse may hold more sway over the border). It could be argued that Asians relish the comfort the certainty that comes with the collective mind. Craftily formed, this collective mind of Hong Kong could be that best suited to bridge east and west and become a model for the rest. As exemplars of enlightened pan-Asians, others would look to the 'Hong Kong Way' as the most successful in financial, social, political and even religious considerations. I believe the wonderful tolerance and acceptance exhibited by many Kong Kong Chinese could be the watchword for success.
Instead, and unfortunately, there sometimes appears to be the worst of both where individual greed is seen as unquestioningly good, unhindered material self-interest the ultimate goal of life and rather dull middle class social mores are bludgeoned into the lives of the rest. At the moment it looks as if Chinese investors will be able to take advantage of overseas stocks: Hong Kong is once again ready to capitalise on a massive rush of investment from domestic mainland Chinese. But I hope that's not the sum total of Hong Kong's projected achievement potential. It also looks like Hong Kong will remain closed to outsiders, especially the domestic workers who now cannot apply for residency no matter how long they have lived there. The poor, the real poor of Hong Kong do not benefit from such investments either directly or indirectly.
So, what should be done to improve things?
Change government policy and, as in Singapore, make English the official language – this will encourage trade across continents and make Hong Kong less dependent on cronyism and Beijing-focused sinophiles.
Change government policy over discrimination and racism – ensure equality of opportunity for all regardless of the colour of their passport. This also will make Hong Kong a better place to do business and comfortably live without hindrance.
Change government philosophy regarding intervention in the marketplace – ensure the sale of land occurs using different priorities in order to take heat out of housing-based economy, encourage diversification and make housing fairer for all. In particular, it is vital to take matters in hand regarding the Small House Policy.
In fairness, the Hong Kong government does promote socially-aware policies through its social health and welfare departments, but they seem a little like diversions from the real business of making lots of money. Please don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating a Socialist revolution, but the current system favours none but the powerful and well connected. And a lifetime of acquisition means that they're not likely to share their wealth anytime soon and will use the government to defend their money, their lifestyle and their means of income. In the end it all comes down to power and who has it.
I am not proposing that the Hong Kong government leads the way. There's enough good people out there who work for and with charities, indeed it's big business now, and God-only knows how much tax avoidance is done through charitable donations from businesses great and small, but we live in the 21st century and the role of individuals is now greater than ever before. Just as the government surely encompasses more than merely lawmaking, citizens should be more than mere consumers and now be giving more thought to what happens in their city and beyond. The alternative is simply to ignore any and all problems and merely hope the government is competent and diligent enough to pick up the pieces and that's where we are now.
Unrestricted laissez-faire capitalism has given us the Hong Kong we see today, warts n' all. Perhaps it's time for something else, something better and something good. It won't be easy and it may be painful, but in the end the struggles for a better society make it worthwhile.
In this second of three epistles, inasmuch as a blog purports to be entertaining, I want to show that wealth acquisition is the overriding fixation of this culture which, when combined with aspirational education and a hands-off political culture, ensures focus is fixed on the self. I want to show how the city's success story is generally built on wealth acquisition and that this has only come about through hard work, good connections or education.
We settled in Hong Kong in 1998, one year
on from the handover of sovereignty from the British colonial government to the
Beijing authorities. This transfer of power, so feared by many of the
population that had only 20 years previously escaped across the border from the terror of Red Guards and the Cultural Revolution, meant that British, Canadian, American and Australian
passport holders had either already fled or had emergency plans to do so if things went tits-up! When the shiny People's Revolutionary Army tanks didn’t
thunder down Nathan Road to crush the dissenting cries of the capitalist running dogs between the cracks of the blood-strewn pavements, everyone
breathed a huge sigh of relief. But no-one really knew what would happen once the Chinese were through the border.
In fact, it made sense for Beijing to keep
things the way they were and keep their eyes firmly on other, more-lucrative-still future prizes, such as Taiwan. Besides, they had to slowly begin the process of sinicisation, the
fickle Chinese population of Hong Kong being both patriotic and
unpatriotic, depending on the topic of discussion: on reunification of Taiwan with China
everyone agrees, on autonomy for Tibet, everyone disagrees, or is it vice versa? As with any urban population, there have been divergent views and firmly entrenched positions to defend. I like to
believe that as teacher of Philosophy and Religious Studies, which I
will discuss a little later, my hand was one of many on the spoon that helped stir the pot.
In the intervening years when I've confessed to living in Hong Kong some have felt compelled to ask whether the place has changed much since Beijing swapped flags – of course not! 2nd July 1997 everyone got up and went to work, got paid, ate lunch, had
their babies, buried their grandmas and made money in the same old way. I can't help wonder if the British had extended the lease on the New Territories for
another 100 years the end result wouldn’t have been much the same...
The simplistic view,
and this thinking is still found a-plenty in newspapers of 2013, is that China is great – no, it’s
really great. The glorious handover meant
the enabling of the poor, downtrodden Hong Kong Chinese to cast off the maleficent hegemony of the nasty
British imperialists to join in the beneficent hegemony of the ever-loving
motherland.
You must remember that for the Special Administrative Region until 2047 things will, in theory, remain business as usual – a full 50 years of 'non-intervention’
from their chauffeur-driven Mercedes-owning mainland Chinese masters. By then all 426 square miles are expected to host a people as unbendingly patriotic as the rest, and by which
time anyone who was involved with the handover will be long dead. Thus, the
disturbing establishment of a form of democracy by that Whore of the East, the last
governor Chris Patten, was seen by the Communist Party's powerful elite as a deliberate unsettling process for Chinese
reintegration. Democracy has not, is not and never shall be popular in the People's Republic of China.
In truth, I thought the chippies* would take over. Over the years many companies were happy that the government would not "frustrate the operation of market forces" as the long-time financial secretary Sir Philip Haddon Cave put it and continue its policy of positive non-interventionism. Surely if a government did not intervene with the natural order of things then the market would be allowed to set the trends and to get on with generating wealth. With the return of Hong Kong to the PRC, perhaps one of the most planned economies of the planet, it was inevitable that it would seek to increase its involvement in the running of all things. Thus, when a measure was introduced to positively integrate more of its work force into the economy, supplanting the nearly 150,000 expats that departed in the years around handover, it was apparent by those doing business that setting artificial targets for the appointment of Chinese, either from Hong Kong or more frequently from mainland China, did not correspond with income generation. Businesses, operating on their strict adherence to a laissez-faire creed, simply went back to employing the right people for the right jobs, regardless of their origins. What was therefore identified by all of this was that the local population required an increase in skills for the market, clearly the responsibility of the underfunded education system and ultimately the responsibility of government. Some chippies may have got work, especially those educated overseas, but thus-far they have remained a fringe phenomena.
Some of the richest people on the planet live in this city where finances have never dipped into the red (indeed, last year many of us received cash because the government felt it needed to spend some of its vast reserves). Wealth creation, however, appears to have followed several well trodden routes. The first is the old style – hard, hard work, night and day. This has always been the bedrock of Hong Kong wealth generation. Although it is becoming harder to make ends meet by working thus, there are still a myriad of small shops that just about tick over, thousands of tired market stalls that are open all hours to ensure returning local customers get 'the usual' and unknown numbers of delivery companies, in the now-ubiquitous Toyota Hiace vans with ridiculous spoilers, that carry anything anywhere to anyone. It has always been in the Chinese psyche to carry out these mercantile tasks and without doubt they do it very well
The next route to riches is to club together: Grandma's lifetime savings combined with living at Mum & Dad's (or with in-laws) in their tiny flat with the addition of siblings putting a portion of their income into the pot helps to set up family businesses or fund property acquisition. It is a tried and tested method that has enabled families to expand their wealth opportunities in stocks, deals, property or business growth. Hong Kong families may not always be happy, but they are strong.
Another route is to be well-connected with 'older brothers' that may offer business assistance so closely akin to cronyism or nepotism as to be indistinguishable. These leg-ups need not necessarily be through legal means and they are never merely benevolent. The final route that seems to have taken hold now is really a secondary route that has only emerged as a result of combinations of any of the other means – property development at home and overseas, a topic for further discussion in the next blog.
The most interesting element to emerge from our time here is my new evangelical belief in accountancy. I used to wonder how so many local people could afford new Mercs and Beamers each year until I discovered that many of these vehicles are owned by their companies as good depreciable assets. All electronic goods are immediately written off! In fact, if we had to do it all again it would be on the back of a 'business' wherein all our assets were lumped together and through which all our income could be beautifully channeled. It's really only the salaried class (such as honest, humble teacher folk) that keep the tax system functioning; everyone else has a proxy adulterous relationship with the taxman through their accountant!
Coming to Hong Kong may have been
fortuitous for us and, as mentioned in the previous post, has allowed us to have a pretty amazing time here, but this great city has
allowed so many to do much better than us and to grow seemingly without limit. Wealth creation may have provided opportunities for good Hong Kong people, but it
has also caused waste, destruction, corruption and, conversely, poverty. More on this in the next post.
Not having worked in any other industry here I
can only really discuss Hong Kong education, and that provided by the English Schools Foundation in
particular. The ESF was set up in 1967 to provide "modern liberal
education" for (mostly-) British expatriates. Before that schooling was a
matter of choice – either one sent one’s sproggs across the seas back to one’s
native land and into a boarding school or one signed up to a local school. The
most prestigious of these were well established institutions such as the catholic
Grant Schools of St Paul’s (1851), of St Francis’ (1869), St Mary’s (1900) or
Sacred Heart Canossian (1860), the Anglican Diocesan Schools (1869) and King
George Vth School, established as the Kowloon British School in 1894.
The colonial government saw the sense of supporting its English-speaking movers
and shakers and provided money to support the education of these future
captains of South China's commerce and industry. The ESF, now dominated by expat Chinese, still receives a direct subsidy of HK$23,659
per secondary pupil on top of the substantial fees of HK$98,000 for students in
secondary and HK$102,000 for those in the 6th Form.
These substantial sums means that the
organisation receives quite a hefty sum from government and parents for the
17,000 students that pass through the doors. Much of this has been passed on to
attract and retain good quality teachers in this overseas ‘hardship posting'.
That parents are eager to cough up the readies so that their precious little
ones can be included in this system is testament to two things – the well-publicised stellar performance of many of its top pupils and the inherent prestige that the
institution has hitherto carried.
As a teacher coming into this system it was
abundantly clear that busy, heads-down, studious HK classes and muddling, fidgety, English kids at a comprehensive school calling everything they didn't understand 'gay' were miles
apart – perhaps even light years apart. I felt I was able to do something here, something I had great difficulty doing in the
UK – teaching! In fact, any pressure generating within an ESF classroom was not because of control or improvements in discipline or upping grades, it was caused by trying to meet the incessant demands of
these little academic sponges. I actually didn't quite like it to begin with!
It is an expectation of Hong Kong parents
that their children work hard. This is to ensure that they gain the best grades possible, an
indication of good investment and maintenance of family honour. Do not, however, confuse these amazing grades for personality or remarkable individual characteristics: that usually comes with a more worldly maturity in mid-20s, a necessarily delayed factor arrived at after University study and/or travel. A typical student's day may begin by rising before 6 a.m. to be ready for the school bus. Many do not eat before classes begin which, depending on the school, may be anytime from 7 until 8.30 . At the end of the day after-hours activities begin – sports or martial arts/music lessons or practice/cram school. Unless they are eating out with parents, these children often may not get home until early evening by which time they are expected to study again with homework. This may continue well into the wee small hours, depending on how diligent or distracted they are. And the whole process continues next day, except many children will suffer from sleep-deprivation, a self-inflicted torture. They are well-organised, highly-stressed and often overworked, a preparation for a well-organised, highly-stressful and overworked life they will inevitably lead where chasing the dollar will be the overriding objective. Existential angst be damned – few, if any, question all this because failure at any level brings shame and angry parental disappointment.
The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, the book that describes the strict disciplinarian Chinese parenting, may have been slightly ironic in tone, but it has described a crystal clear reality for a great many Hong Kong students. The uncomfortable truth is that this hard, aspirational parenting is a global phenomena by no means limited to the Chinese.
I enjoyed teaching – most of the time. Many students came into school with no preconceived ideas, others with such confirmed opinions that it was a real sweat to oil the hinges on the gates of their perception. It's not that they didn't care, it's just that for many philosophical and psychological ideas were just not important. It is easy to see how this situation has come about. I remember meeting one troubled parent who, on showing me the book we used in class, complained that there were no answers at the back, nothing to confirm that the reader was on the right path to academic success. I had to explain that this book was all about forming the right questions: as she walked away shaking her head I could almost hear her thoughts of incredulity. The right subjects to choose are Business Studies, Economics and Chinese (Maths, English and Science are mandatory), the wrong ones are Art, Drama, Music, History, Design & Technology, Physical Education, Philosophy & Religious Studies. When asked why, students repeat a parental mantra that the chosen subjects will undoubtedly help them get on in life. No amount of discussion about interests outside education, about golf handicaps or backhand strokes in tennis can shake this belief until mid-way through their studies, by which time it would be too late and they are committed: and every year it would be the same.
With such an unfortunate, blind focus on the means to wealth creation, it has seemed inevitable that many Hong Kongers appear to see no further than the basic accumulation of worldly goods, the tangible assets of work and industry, even if that means being surround by them in their living space, all stacked up to the ceiling in neat PriceRite plastic boxes. Shopping is, after all, Hong Kong's best-loved sport: whole families will go out to spend the day in gargantuan shopping malls such as Pacific Place or Festival Walk. Orderly snaking queues form down whole streets for discounts or the acquisition of free gifts. Although many are too proud to beg, pensioners will nevertheless fight each other for free rice from temples – even if their fruit money has increased! The most frequent time for banks to be robbed is in the weeks before Chinese New Year when those desperate for cash to pay for all the expenses in that season turn to even-more desperate measures. And I fear to even mention horse racing and the Jockey Club, the biggest game in town!
Throughout much of my teaching time the students' heroes were often the
most financially successful, such as Bill Gates and Li Ka-shing. Wealth, even avarice, contentment through acquisition and one-upmanship is properly understood – they could almost be seen as sparkly aspects of the same golden virtue: wealth is good. Even Chinese New Year can be seen as legitimising and celebrating this in both real and symbolic forms; lai see packets full of money, the placement of decorative yuanbao gold ingots, the centrality of flower blossoms that symbolise prosperity. So if the most important yearly festival confirms these ideals, it is no wonder it has become a unquestioned tenet of life. This may be not, of course, be limited to Hong Kong society, but it certainly dominates the flavour of it.
In fairness, Chinese history has been nothing if not eventful. Natural and man-made disasters have swept countless millions away leaving those still alive to ponder the meaning of it all. Through the troubled lives of forbears who lived in interesting times a widely-held assumption has filtered down that the only one to look after number one is number one. That's not to say welfare associations have been unknown in Chinese history or that government agencies haven't done wonders over time, but pity belongs to the weak and unfortunate. A fall from financial grace brings social embarrassment – people stare.
So, to recount this fairly lengthy blog entry, Hong Kong is a politically stable and sometimes rich society with a populace that is generally left to do as it pleases – Ayn Rand would have been proud. Many people, however, have become severely stressed because culturally-inspired aspirations surrounding wealth can only be met through expensive education and/or fortuitous connections, things beyond the means and social orbits of the vast majority of the population. Wealth, therefore, may only be realised in the next or future generations after much hardship, through a lucky break or by consenting families pulling together. The Hong Kong Chinese, however, have established what is perhaps their best weapon in dealing with life's vagueries – a fantastic sense of humour.
I love the city of Hong Kong, the people and the countryside in which we have been lucky enough to have lived. Unfortunately, in our years here things have got tighter in terms of wallets and wages, tolerance has become less of a freely-available commodity, the environment has quickly worsened and the lifestyles to which many Hong Kongers have become inexorably committed are unsustainable. These are the troublesome topics I will waffle upon in my next blog entry and where I propose a solution.
This is the first of three open epistles
intended with the heart in mind. In these I make appeal to that
which moves a person, the inner stirrings of awareness, conscience and pity. The
intention is that my thoughts should strike a resonating chord and provoke discourse and
action.
The subject is Hong Kong, our experience here, our expectations and departure. Having thought on these things for a time and, knowing
my days in the city are numbered, I have decided to give them form and to cast
them, for good or ill, into the electronic ether. It begins with our entry to this far-eastern metropolis.
Our lives in Hong Kong began by fluke. Just
before Christmas 1996, on business I cannot recall, we visited the Royal Bank
of Scotland in Sandbach, Cheshire. Waiting for the Memsahib, I completed a
simple promotional flyer that required a few ticks and a sentence – the prize
being £3000 of Thomas Cook Travel Vouchers. The Mem saw this as a waste of
time: I shrugged. A few days into the New Year someone claiming to be with the
RBS phoned and congratulated me on winning the first prize in the bank’s
national competition. Assuming this to be an elaborate wind-up, I came close to
slamming the phone down after a few choice words, but hesitated. Days later, smiling
for the cameras, we received an enormous cheque and pondered what to do with all
that cash.
We concluded we should go to a place we were unlikely to visit again in
our lifetime, the place our dear friend Gethyn had recently emigrated and whose
concluding words to us was to be sure to come and see him. Our vouchers
became two Cathay flights to Hong Kong with cash to spend...
That Chinese New Year week of 1997 was an incredible
novelty.
Spectacularly flying in over the streets of Kowloon we arrived at the old Kai
Tak airport and filled the week doing the touristy things that all wide-eyed
visitors do, the Big Buddha on Lantau, the sweaty market in Stanley, the bouncy
Star Ferry to Tsim Sha Tsui. Our gracious host took us to view the night city from
Stubbs Road and to view a misty China from the Robin’s Nest helipad. The first
trip to be taken without our little girls, we enjoyed the differences of
culture and the ease with which we could get around. It was all so very
exciting – a noisy and bright world away from the silent and dark streets of
Northwich.
We took time out to visit the special needs
Jockey Club Sarah Roe School where the Mem’s ex-colleague and friend, the late Jenny Doke,
had recently began working. Limbering out of the taxi I peered down the long drive next door to what
clearly appeared to be a long-established educational institution, the King George Vth
School, its grand Art Deco frontage with clock tower overseeing a green sports
field. As a trainee teacher, I thought at the time, if I could teach anywhere then it would ideally be here.
The night of our departure we spent in a
Mexican Restaurant in Times Square with a gaggle of English Schools Foundation
teachers – a birthday party. With one eye on the clock, we drank salty margaritas
and ate nothing but nachos all evening. The party continued and we politely made
excuses for our 11 pm plane. No, don’t
go! voices clamored. But we have our
kids… we replied. Bring ‘em over –
we’ll get you a job! This flippant remark was not without weight in the
days leading up to the handover of 1997.
At 10:45, and with a “Fi-dee! Fi-dee!”, our host bundled us into the back of a red taxi.
Sliding across the back seat, we sped at the highest of speeds through the Central
Harbour Tunnel to Kai Tak to the awaiting return flight, but it was all too
much and before immigration hot, orange, sticky nachoey sick splashed over my black
jeans. Such was my state, the Mem threatened to fly without me if I was refused
on board. I promise I'll never drink another!
Such a world had never existed for us:
teachers with money, regularly polishing off bottles of wine in a school staffroom after work,
regular international travel to hot, sunny destinations – it would surely
remain a sparkly dream, a nice idea, but something we would forever want.
Before the end of the year the Mem had applied for a post at the very same Sarah Roe School.
Deciding to move to Hong Kong was easy,
although saying our goodbyes to friends and family was painful, but the
opportunities that quickly arose in the Pearl of the Orient made our first few
months a joyful adaptation. Our apartment began to look like an IKEA showroom
and we watched DVDs during typhoon days. We began to go native – the English expat native –taking on a domestic helper and enjoying sausage, mash and a pint of Tetleys
at the Railway Tavern in Tai Wai (in those days you could get gravy and mushy peas with your pie and chips). We loved giving Chinese New Year red lai
see envelopes containing money to employees and children, but perhaps I over-reacted
to the slang term for westerners, gwailo–
was I really a foreign devil? On my way to work I could see down the entire
length of the MTR train: I was the tallest soul anywhere without westerners,
something that just ain’t so anymore.
Our landlady, undoubtedly mindful of her losses in the property price crash
that accompanied the Asian financial crisis, tried to keep us happy in our 600
square feet Tai Wai apartment (including lift lobby). With her we experienced our
first dim sum and hotpot, but the flat’s size and price was our rude awakening
to what may be the most over-heated property market in the world. Hong Kong
being such a perfectly placed travel hub, we took ourselves off for holidays in
Thailand and Bali, but a few weekends in choky Chinese cities made us think
twice about the mainland.
The many islands of the New Territories beckoned with gazetted beaches,
clean sand, lifeguards, butterflies and cold beers in the cafés. It proved such
a great attraction that we couldn’t help but call our poor friends Rachel and Bob to
tell them how wonderful it all was. Unfortunately, they failed to share our
enthusiasm on a dreary, dark British five o’clock in the bloody morning...
We frequently took to two or even three
nights out each week, clubbing, barhopping and dancing our way through the
crowds of Lan Kwai Fong. Competing bars would often give
away drinks to attract punters. We even took up Salsa! Regularly quaffing champagne on Wednesday
ladies’ nights at Carnegies in Wanchai often meant dancing on the bar until well
into the wee small hours... only to get up and go to work at 6 the next day. But we
thought nothing of it. We had the cash (and the energy), we lived a mere HK$100
taxi ride from Central and we loved it!
It became quickly obvious that Hong Kong
was all about money. Any Hong Konger becomes conspicuous only by his or her spending. There’s little else this town takes
seriously. Having disposable income can bring a level of transient happiness
only dreamed of by the rest: the power to walk into a shop and buy anything –
ANYTHING! (well, almost)
The vast majority of people are still
relatively poor by comparison, particularly older people and women and trends
indicate that the numbers of poor have increased. Only the very richest (and
very poorest) have had their lot improved.
But as for us, we spent it all. There couldn't be a better place to live than Hong Kong. Outside
work, our lives were almost entirely devoted to pleasures: electronic gadgetry,
cinema, clothes, holidays, restaurants and nights out. We must have helped
many-an entrepreneur on their way to their current fortunes, and lost ours in the process, but at the time we just didn't care.
And this is where I pause. The next epistle
is concerned with day-to-day life in Hong Kong and of Hong Kong people in
particular.
I know, I know –there are lots of websites out there that get ten-, even a hundred-times that traffic per hour, but that's not the point. Just knowing that so many of you lovely people have wandered my way makes me... feel... sort-of... warm and fuzzy, that's all. Gee –I love you all!
And the most YouTube hits goes to...
According to this website, the Bieb (not The Beeb which is much more wholesome as far as I'm concerned) scores the tops for YouTube vids –half a billion, if you will believe it. More to my disappointment, Charlie Bit My Finger comes out 6th with a mere 430 million. By this thorough statistical analysis it can be concluded that the world's masturbational teenagers can't get enough of tousled-haired heart-throbs, whereas cute bald biting babies, as always, are a bit of an after-thought. I suppose it were ever thus. It probably accounts for a significant amount of the bald biting babies currently pushed around by masturbational teenagers...
Enough of silly videos, what of serious websites? well, discounting the mighty Google search engine, the most obvious is Facebook. This should come as no surprise considering the incredible hold it has on some. As a means on checking up on family, friends new and old and work colleagues it cannot be beaten, except that it relies entirely upon the Facebooker to regularly update his or her status. Enough column inches have been wasted on this somewhat insidious on-line means of 'finding out' exactly who you are, what you are doing, with whom and when. The confessional phrase, 'I have nothing to hide' may not be quite the platitudinous guilt-free statement in years to come, particularly if there is a little unsavoury skeleton in the cupboard.
It's true, Facebook scan your mind with invisible lasers
According to this source, Mark Zuckerberg owns the lions share 28.2%, Accel Partners own the next 10%, Zuckerberg's roommate Dustin Moskowitz with 7.6%, Russian-owned Digital Sky Technologies with a mere 5.4%, further down the list is Microsoft's paltry 1.6%, Goldman Sachs at 1%, our very own Li Ka Shing at 0.8%. At no visible presence is the CIA, despite the alarmist protestations in on-line articles a few years back that before long the Men in Black would know everything about you at your own admission. It still is an interesting concept, that there aren't enough torturers in the world to wheedle out the kind of information we happily blurt out on a daily basis.
And the most hits for blogs and social media and photos and that...
As blogs go, this one is certainly not one of the greats. It's too... nuanced, too anglophilic, idiosyncratic (not to say egocentric) and therefore couldn't possible compete for those with wider global appeal. The Huffington Post may be the most massivelee popliar blog everr, but I suspect there might be more than one person putting that baby together. There are, of course, a whole host more too numerous to mention.
What of the futuuuuuuuure?
Well, we all have our chance to speak now. We are able to tell whoever wishes to read it that we have had a lovely dinner, found an interesting video, met up with some interesting friends, behaved well or badly, been there and done that. But that's just so boring. I'm waiting for the next thing –website entries from the other side, blogs describing endless heaven or hell, flickr pictures of the afterlife, ebay ads from someone selling their old bodies, "one careful owner, a bit tatty around the edges but well loved". If that ever happens they might all have to amend their body part policies like Ebay's, but it would surely be worth it!
Here's wishing you a very peaceful and prosperous new year of 2012.
If the last 12 months has taught us anything, it is that we should never take our eye off the ball as far as national and international events are concerned: who could have predicted the seismic changes brought about by the so-called Arab Spring, the deaths of Osama bin Laden and Gaddafi the tyrant, the hope of the new country of South Sudan or the problems caused by the population of the earth reaching 7 billion?
Final curtain calls were given to Pete Postlethwaite, Susannah York, Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Gough and Peter Falk.
No more notes will ensue from Gerry Rafferty, Gary Moore or Amy Winehouse.
We'll never see one more splash of paint from Lucian Freud or Cy Twombly.
The astonishing moves by Joe Frazier, Gary Speed or Sócrates are now things of the past.
The world has lost the much-loved political intellectual Václav Havel and the much-hated mad and bad Kim Jong-il.
Not even an apple a day could keep Steve Jobs here.
Out here in ole Hong Kong, many Chinesey folk hold back and really only celebrate Chinese New Year which officially begins on 23rd January. Our last Year of the Dragon, in 2000, saw many interesting changes -Vladimir Putin and George Bush were elected presidents, Israel left Lebanon after 12 years occupation, the submarine Kursk sunk in the Barents Sea, the International Space Station received its first residents. We had a billion less people.
We'll be sailing into stormy economic waters, particularly with regard to the question of the Euro. If people stop popping to the shops to buy 'stuff' then millions of Chinese will be without work and that will affect the ability of Chinese government to effectively control its people. Eek!
Who is to say where our future lies. It's supposed to be the year that our b'ak'tun cycle ends (according to the Mayan long-count calendar), which could mean the earth ends or that we bump into the planet Nibiru. Hmmm... that might not be so nice. All I can say is that you should make sure you live each day to its fullness.
Oh and I might just pop by from time-to-time with a little comment or two. Cheers!
Greece was always a spectacular location for an excursion; The Roman legions under Mummius, the Ottomans directed by the 15th century Sultans, Mussolini and his Julia Alpine Division (although they didn't get very far) and Hitler's Twelfth Army (who did). Of course, since those times more peaceful invasive forces have set their sights on things hellenic, have taken retsina in the tavernas and have left their towels on loungers all the way from the co-capital of Thessaloniki in the north to the teensy-tiny island of Petrota south of Crete. If anything, Greece has not had any difficulty selling itself -we have all at one time or another wanted to go there. The only problem is that now no-one wants their money to go there!
So why has this economic crisis affected Greece quite so badly? Well, unfortunately it's largely the Greeks themselves -they've spent too much and recovered too little and that's affected everyone else in the Eurozone. Let's blame it on 'Greek Culture'. There's something in the old Greek character which is content to cock a snoot at anyone in authority, particularly the government and the tax man. This may be a residue from left-wing political ebbs and flows during the middle years of the 20th century, but it remains a significant self-satisfying factor which the younger generation must overcome and change. God alone knows what the future will hold for young Greeks...
Perhaps I should tell you what's wrong by means of a little story:
Suppose you were Greece back in the 1990s and you were invited by your neighbours to join a mighty-neighbourly club -and bit of an expensive and exclusive European club at that! This club would bring benefits, such as the opportunity to further your own domestic causes by simply chatting to all your new-found friends in the club house(s). It would also bring financial stability by offering the chance to dip into the club's vast finances -all of a sudden the dreams of upping the kids' pocket money, building that much-needed extension and bbq patio and of buying the wife a fur coat would become a reality. Popularity at home (that irresistible political temptress) would be assured. In fact, the more that would be spent, the better things would get.
But then the unexpected occurred -an economic downturn. Everything suddenly became more expensive, your accounts at the shops became worthless and, when you asked around, everyone else moaned in chorus about feeling the pinch. Oh dear. The neighbours in the club were still able to gain access to yet another club (the Money Club), but you couldn't. And you couldn't because although your popularity came at a price, there was no way it could be maintained (something the Money Club didn't like). Support at home began to wane. Your friends said they could help you out, but only if you began improving your much-cherished domestic arrangements (particularly the ability to pay those pesky shop accounts) and completely gave up on popularity. In fact, if you hadn't begun doing this then you would also get your friends into trouble and your club membership review would be brought forward. Your piggy bank was long-since empty and, besides, now belonged to all the other club members (and even some non-members). Some whispered that even if all your friends came to your aid, paid your bills, helped structure your domestic arrangements and somehow encouraged the 'other club' to cough up enough cash to pay the rent then it would be amount to more money than you could ever pay back. In fact, it would be your fault that all the others lost their piggy banks too...
I know this is a slightly silly and flawed rhetorical device, but I hope it makes the point. Greek membership of the European Club may not have caused the crisis in the first place, but their 'culture' (one familiar to many other southern European countries) has been crucial in directing it's demise -borrow lots and don't pay it back. Instigating painful measures from without to remedy the situation on Terra Grecia within will in the end, I fear, become merely punitive to the young (tax paying) Greeks who never acceded to the decisions that got the country in the mess in the first place. These extreme domestic measures will certainly not stop the international monetary system's blessed freedoms from further wrecking an already crumbling edifice.
Our friends the Greeks have been put on the austerity naughty step before. Even before membership was accepted, difficulties in their economy were observed. According to the BBC on 1 Jan 2001, "To qualify for euro membership, the Greek Government had to adopt a tough austerity programme, making deep cuts in public spending." Sound familiar? It's obvious that they just weren't tough enough. Maybe the 'culture' was deeper than the 2001 cuts could reach.
Even worse, the recent statements notwithstanding, the rest of Europe now seems unable to know exactly what to do or how to do it. Charles Calomiris, the Economist who predicted the fall of Argentina back in 2001, recently described the whole sorry state in Greek Economy Watch thus:
Europe is living in denial. Even after the economic crisis exposed the eurozone's troubled future, its leaders are struggling to sustain the status quo. At this point, several European countries will likely be forced to abandon the euro within the next year or two....The only way out of this conundrum is for countries with insurmountable debt burdens to default on their euro-denominated debts and exit the eurozone so that they can finance their continuing fiscal deficits by printing their own currency. Here's a hint for Europe's politicians: If the math says one thing and the law says something different, it will be the law that ends up changing.
So what's to be done? Bugger all as far as I can see. Setting up an artificial pan-European currency seemed like a good idea at the time -one worthy of investment, cooperation and integration. The Old Europe of international and internecine rivalry and bloodshed evaporated in a blending of economic love and well-being. The trend to allow a ridiculous insouciant market lead all our lives for better or worse must be addressed, but I don't think many chancellors or government economists could ensure financial health and certainty on the ground where the real people live. Neither could (or would) many of them have admitted foreseeing that continual borrowing, spending and borrowing again would result in eventual ruin for us all, but it all seems so bloody obvious now -with hindsight.
We're in a right mess that is likely to worsen, that's for sure. Are there any solutions? Probably not. Things are dependant upon wiser minds than governments can usually tolerate. Political solutions untenable with current thinking may be required. In the end, we'll all lose money - lots of it. At least we have our friends and family (which brings a measure of happiness to us all). Of course, that does not mean we should give up and if ever a time was needed when pressure could be brought to bear upon our elected representatives it is certainly now. Without it they can only make things even worse.
Microfinance has always been a great idea: poor people across the world are financially assisted through low interest loans (chiefly to women) that may enable them to buy seed, fertilizer or even an animal such as a cow. This can also keep them out of the clutches of ruthless loan sharks and becomes a merciful hand-up out of grinding village poverty. That this scheme also seems to be so simple and effective one may wonder why it has not been extended further.
Unfortunately, not all has been rosy in the microlending garden and considerable criticisms have been made, particularly against the ethics of poorly managed microcredit lending at 24-36%, where it appears borrowers are little better off than they were with the loan sharks who lent anything between 36-72%. Loans are easily foistered on poor needy villagers, but each hard-earned interest payment disappears back to the cities. Thus it is that the money doesn't stay locally with the people who generate it.
Unless you live too far from a bank, are amongst the ranks of the long-term unemployed, have a serious gambling habit or otherwise occupy some nether-region that bars access to the marvellous world of banking, then there is probably no reason why you would need services such as these. But there are regions, even in developed countries, where access to finance, particularly cash, can be limited (and failure to pay your loan shark will result in loss of the telly, microwave or kneecaps). One of the luxuries of living in Hong Kong is the ease of accessing finance for domestic, business and investment purposes. Until quite recently one could even borrow unsecured money in China to use buying stocks -no wonder the Chinese market has boomed and boomed!
Thus in the Gloucestershire town of Stroud it is possible to obtain Stroud Pounds. This is not really a form of microfinance, but it is a way of keeping locally-earned money local and a small-scale method of stimulating the local economy. One of the side-effects of a global banking industry is that quite a lot of banked money goes to pay for the bank's global activities, which is fine if you have investments in an international bank, but of no interest if you simply own a wool shop or a pub or fix lawnmowers in your town.
Stroud pounds are good for keeping locally-generated finance circulating in the Stroud area. Launched in 2009, they are really a system of vouchers or complementary currency and are not intended to replace the British pound. Indeed, they could not -there are only 3,612 of them.
What is admirable about this system is that it is intended to be used to pass on trade using these pounds. Thus, a gardener will be paid in Stoud Pounds who will then pay for coffee in a cafe with Stroud Pounds the owner of which will then have her hair done and pay for the service with the same Stroud Pounds. The circulating money stays in the locality. There is a depreciation (or demurrage) of 3% which occurs twice-yearly, but this is is intended to keep the currency circulating. The big chain stores, therefore, won't accept them so they can only benefit local people or organisations. Any profits go to charity.
Thus it is today that this morning I bought three CDs with Stroud Pounds and tonight will buy a few Stroud Brewery beers at the Prince Albert pub. Hmmm... I'm sure my smug community worthyness, lefty-leaning self-satisfaction and insufferable self-righteousness will accumulate with each pint.
Recent Comments