Danielle for Premier; Newt for President
I have believed all my overly long life that there are some things the governments do well and there are others best left to private enterprise subject to the proviso that the industry is not dominated by a few mega giants. However, many people, perhaps wiser than me, believe otherwise. Their mantra is that the governments mess up whatever they undertake and smallest possible government is the best government.
I have been fortunate over the years that I did not have much dealing with the government agencies. I pay my taxes, fill the forms as well as I can and get approximately the refund I expect, sometimes a little less other times a little more. I leave other things like building permits to contractors and they resolve the issues if there are any. But the situation changed recently. Fortunately, it was nothing personal and it does not affect me at all. If this were critical to my well-being, I would be joining the Wild Rose party and be sending money to Gingerich campaign. As it is, I am only thinking about it.
Although it is in common use most people are not familiar with the origin of the term ‘broken record’ because records from where the term originated have gone the way of the dodo. Before the digital revolution and imusic, there were compact discs which are still in use by older generation. The discs replaced tapes which were on the scene for no more than a few years. Before tapes they had a contraption called record which rotated on a plate and a needle floating on it picked up the vibrations pressed on its surface. The records reproduced sound accurately and were in use for several decades. However, they did have a problem. If the surface had a scratch, sometimes even a dust particle, needle got stuck and played the same notes again and again. This constant repetition was called a ‘broken record’ and soon the term was applied to any one who repeated the same argument over and over disregarding counter arguments of others. Politicians and ad agencies realized that repeating a statement ad nauseam persuaded a large number of people that this was true and soon became adapt at it.
Enough of diversion and back to the story. I noticed a while ago when buying a carton of milk that on top of $3.29 for a two litre carton there was a deposit of 25 cents. On returning the carton a few weeks later, I got a refund of 18 cents. Thus, I paid seven cents extra for the milk not counting the cost of time and transportation to the bottle depot and back. It occurred to me that this was an imposition on the citizens who pay a substantial fee to the city for the curbside pick up of the recyclable material. Moreover, there are families whose means are limited and the deposit may force them to reduce their consumption of milk, thus harming the health of our future generation.
These considerations prompted me to write letters to my alderman and he was kind enough to reply within a few days. He informed me that the deposit was a provincial matter and had nothing to do with him. I now sent the letter to the MLA. It is my misfortune that the MLA is now the Premier of the province and has no time for the concerns of her constituents. She did forward the letter to the Environment Minister who got a staff to draft a response. It said, in effect, that the deposit was reducing the amount of garbage in the dumps and achieving the goal of recycling 85% of such material. There was no mention of the economics of recycling or the deposit.
I am a retired grumpy old soul with not much to do unlike our civil(?) servants. I fired back a note stating that the reply did not answer the issues I raised. Lo and behold, a few days later there was the reply – an almost verbatim repeat of the previous note. Having grown up in India with records of poor quality and being aware of the futility of playing the broken record, I did the only thing one can do in this situation, gave up.
The private companies are no better in this regard. In case a reader is having difficulty remembering the last experience of this phenomenon, I will relate my recent experience. A few months ago I wrote to my discount broker suggesting a very minor change in their monthly statement which will make it much more convenient to the customers and save many trees too. I received the automated response telling me how much my correspondence was appreciated but they had no plan to make any changes. Last week, I sent a similar letter adding to it my frustration with the company not paying attention to a customer’s problem. Guess what? I received the same letter as before, only under a different name. What should I do?
In old days when the record was broken we went and bought another one. To transpose that solution to the existing problems, I am investigating the possibility of moving to a different broker. As for the government and its response, it may be time to switch my political ideology from ‘middle of the road pragmatic government is good’ to ‘less is better’. I need new slogans – ‘Danielle Smith for Premier’ and ‘Newt Gingerich for President’ will do for now.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
Grampa’s Gift
Even-tempered individuals who go through life unperturbed by daily hassles are few and far between. Men and women who tend to be placid are good company when there is a story to tell or a special meal to share. But most interesting people are those you could call excitable. It doesn’t take much to excite them; the prospect of a good espresso with a plate of three kinds of baklava is enough to send them overboard. Tomas is one such person. He was even more high-spirited that day than he usually is but if walking on cloud nine could ever be justified, this was the occasion. Tomas comes from a family where women are tall if they touch five feet in high heels and then they tower about their men whose sole occupation is making money. Folks he married into are taller but not by much – may be a centimetre or an inch. Yet, there he was in Sydney celebrating his daughter Roma’s inclusion in Hungary’s basketball team. Roma was by far the tallest person in the clan – no other Kovari reached her shoulders. If she weren’t so fit and energetic, the parents would have worried about some genetic defect. As it was, they found her long reach useful, no need to fetch a ladder to reach the top shelf or change the bulb in ceiling light fixtures.
Tomas was waving his arms about shouting Hungaria – Hungaria when he heard the sound not much louder than that of a pin drop, then the crunch as his left foot stepped on something solid. He stopped to look and picked up the jumble of metal and leather which looked like it was once a watch. “How stupid, leaving a watch on the sidewalk,” he said to no one in particular. He was surprised when he examined it a little more. It was an expensive model, a Tudor Oysterdate; just like his own with identical crocodile skin strap. An unhappy thought crossed his mind and his eyes turned to his left wrist now limp against his body. There was an empty space next to the cuff of his shirt. Indeed, the watch in his palm was the one that had been on his wrist a few moments ago. It must have come off when he was shouting slogans and waving his arms. To think of it, the clasp holding the band was a bit shaky when he put it on while dressing to go out that morning. Now it was dolefully staring at Tomas with its cover cracked, face muddy from his shoe and hands stuck close to the numbers two, ten and eleven. It was the gift his grandfather had given him at a party to celebrate his squeaking through the final school examination. While transferring the watch from his wrist to Tom’s Grampa had said, “It is a family heirloom. You must love and cherish it.” “And obey too because punctuality runs deep in the Kovari blood,” he remembered thinking at that time.
The accident and the memory of the day he graduated from being a boy to a man drained all excitement out of poor Tomas. His spirits hit the bottom as if an old friend had left him for good. He let the crowd shove him around till he found himself jammed with his nose against a window displaying – you guessed it – men’s watches. There were at least fifty seven varieties; their prices scribbled on the tags hanging from the bands. It was difficult to read the numbers but there seemed to be a large range. He located the door and stepped inside. There were thousands of people on the street but only one in the store. A lady barely in her thirties, her wavy well groomed red hair parted on the left, came forward and wished him Good Day. She was wearing a short plaid skirt, a white blouse that gave prominence to her figure and hardly any make up. He showed her the skeleton of the watch and asked if something could be done to fix it. She disappeared with it behind a swivel door at the back. It would be normal to watch the boistrous crowd on the street while waiting for her return but Tomas was in no mood for enjoyment and glumly looked at the watches in showcases instead. There was a wide range, some gold, some steel, some with second hands others without, some with faces cluttered with all the information fit to present on a watch, others with just two barely visible hands on a bright white face. They ranged from expensive Omega, Rolex, Tissots and Longines from Switzerland to cheap Asian products named one letter different from those of the well-known brands.
Just when Tomas was starting to wonder whether they were already working to put the fallen Humpty Dumpty together again, the lady came through the door with an open box on a small tray in her right hand. “I am sorry, sir. Our staff looked at the watch carefully. They do not think it is worth repairing. It will take them several days and the replacement parts may not be available any way. The working model would be highly prized as an antique but in its current state, I am sorry to convey their opinion sir, it is worthless.”
Tomas was heart-broken. Leave alone the fear of having to explain the accident to his grampa when he meets him in the next world - he had a tendency to be grumpy and had no doubt carried it with him, the thought of meeting all the social engagements without a time keeper was depressing. However, the lady came to rescue, “Will you like a replacement, sir? We do have a large selection and one of them is sure to appeal to you. We accept all credit cards and foreign tourists get the sales tax refunded.”
She helped Tomas find an Omega, a little beyond his means but within the credit limit of the card. It was nowhere near as elegant as the watch now resting in a box in his pocket used to be, but it ticked, had an alarm, glowed in the dark and worked on a long lasting battery. She helped with the long form to claim tax refund, got the band adjusted for his wrist, thanked him for the custom and he was on his way resisting the temptation to ask her to join him for lunch and whatever that might lead to.
Whether it was the loss of good vibes from the family heirloom or the mismatch of his stars with that of the new watch, next few years were tough on Tomas. He lost his job and the only employment he could find was on the drilling rigs in far away Canada. The work was hard and the winters cold but the money was good and he was able to save enough in five years to start his own business; shoveling snow in driveways in winter and mowing lawns in the summer. The older population of the city needed a reliable person to do these jobs and soon Tomas, now Tom, had several crews working all over Edmonton. He settled in a nice bungalow in a good area and invited neighbours on summer weekends to drink Hungarian wines and snack on crackers with goat cheese. It was at one such get together when Roberto – who had emigrated from Sicily twenty five years ago and lived a few doors away – showed him a watch he had just got fixed for a small fortune. It was a Rolex, not as fancy as the grampa’s gift but still elegant. He felt a sharp pang in his heart for his long lost love. He told his guests about the incident in Sydney and how much he missed that watch. Roberto had a brilliant idea, “Tom, it won’t do any harm to get an estimate here if you still have that box. Those watches are now collector’s item and people pay a fortune for them on e-bay.”
After the guests left, he rummaged through the cardboard boxes he had brought from Hungary over the years and stored neatly on shelves in the basement. It took a few hours, but he located the crushed Oysterdate. He dropped it at the Rolex store the next day. Two weeks later he got the call he had been waiting for, “The watch can be fixed but it will take some work. We estimate the cost at $1197.50, plus tax of course.”
Tom was happy that the watch could be fixed and the estimate did not surprise him. It was high but the business was doing better than ever and if he did meet his grumpy grampa in next life he did not want to have any explaining to do. He gave the go ahead and in four weeks the fixed watch was on his wrist. It did not glow in the dark, it did not have alarm, it ran on vibrations from the wrist and it gained a couple of minutes every day but it cost five thousand dollars new and it would sell for a lot more as an antique in an internet auction if his daughter did not want to keep it. Fortune favours the pack rats, thought Tom as he put the Omega in the old box and at the bottom of the heap where he had found his old and now the latest pride and joy.
Even-tempered individuals who go through life unperturbed by daily hassles are few and far between. Men and women who tend to be placid are good company when there is a story to tell or a special meal to share. But most interesting people are those you could call excitable. It doesn’t take much to excite them; the prospect of a good espresso with a plate of three kinds of baklava is enough to send them overboard. Tomas is one such person. He was even more high-spirited that day than he usually is but if walking on cloud nine could ever be justified, this was the occasion. Tomas comes from a family where women are tall if they touch five feet in high heels and then they tower about their men whose sole occupation is making money. Folks he married into are taller but not by much – may be a centimetre or an inch. Yet, there he was in Sydney celebrating his daughter Roma’s inclusion in Hungary’s basketball team. Roma was by far the tallest person in the clan – no other Kovari reached her shoulders. If she weren’t so fit and energetic, the parents would have worried about some genetic defect. As it was, they found her long reach useful, no need to fetch a ladder to reach the top shelf or change the bulb in ceiling light fixtures.
Tomas was waving his arms about shouting Hungaria – Hungaria when he heard the sound not much louder than that of a pin drop, then the crunch as his left foot stepped on something solid. He stopped to look and picked up the jumble of metal and leather which looked like it was once a watch. “How stupid, leaving a watch on the sidewalk,” he said to no one in particular. He was surprised when he examined it a little more. It was an expensive model, a Tudor Oysterdate; just like his own with identical crocodile skin strap. An unhappy thought crossed his mind and his eyes turned to his left wrist now limp against his body. There was an empty space next to the cuff of his shirt. Indeed, the watch in his palm was the one that had been on his wrist a few moments ago. It must have come off when he was shouting slogans and waving his arms. To think of it, the clasp holding the band was a bit shaky when he put it on while dressing to go out that morning. Now it was dolefully staring at Tomas with its cover cracked, face muddy from his shoe and hands stuck close to the numbers two, ten and eleven. It was the gift his grandfather had given him at a party to celebrate his squeaking through the final school examination. While transferring the watch from his wrist to Tom’s Grampa had said, “It is a family heirloom. You must love and cherish it.” “And obey too because punctuality runs deep in the Kovari blood,” he remembered thinking at that time.
The accident and the memory of the day he graduated from being a boy to a man drained all excitement out of poor Tomas. His spirits hit the bottom as if an old friend had left him for good. He let the crowd shove him around till he found himself jammed with his nose against a window displaying – you guessed it – men’s watches. There were at least fifty seven varieties; their prices scribbled on the tags hanging from the bands. It was difficult to read the numbers but there seemed to be a large range. He located the door and stepped inside. There were thousands of people on the street but only one in the store. A lady barely in her thirties, her wavy well groomed red hair parted on the left, came forward and wished him Good Day. She was wearing a short plaid skirt, a white blouse that gave prominence to her figure and hardly any make up. He showed her the skeleton of the watch and asked if something could be done to fix it. She disappeared with it behind a swivel door at the back. It would be normal to watch the boistrous crowd on the street while waiting for her return but Tomas was in no mood for enjoyment and glumly looked at the watches in showcases instead. There was a wide range, some gold, some steel, some with second hands others without, some with faces cluttered with all the information fit to present on a watch, others with just two barely visible hands on a bright white face. They ranged from expensive Omega, Rolex, Tissots and Longines from Switzerland to cheap Asian products named one letter different from those of the well-known brands.
Just when Tomas was starting to wonder whether they were already working to put the fallen Humpty Dumpty together again, the lady came through the door with an open box on a small tray in her right hand. “I am sorry, sir. Our staff looked at the watch carefully. They do not think it is worth repairing. It will take them several days and the replacement parts may not be available any way. The working model would be highly prized as an antique but in its current state, I am sorry to convey their opinion sir, it is worthless.”
Tomas was heart-broken. Leave alone the fear of having to explain the accident to his grampa when he meets him in the next world - he had a tendency to be grumpy and had no doubt carried it with him, the thought of meeting all the social engagements without a time keeper was depressing. However, the lady came to rescue, “Will you like a replacement, sir? We do have a large selection and one of them is sure to appeal to you. We accept all credit cards and foreign tourists get the sales tax refunded.”
She helped Tomas find an Omega, a little beyond his means but within the credit limit of the card. It was nowhere near as elegant as the watch now resting in a box in his pocket used to be, but it ticked, had an alarm, glowed in the dark and worked on a long lasting battery. She helped with the long form to claim tax refund, got the band adjusted for his wrist, thanked him for the custom and he was on his way resisting the temptation to ask her to join him for lunch and whatever that might lead to.
Whether it was the loss of good vibes from the family heirloom or the mismatch of his stars with that of the new watch, next few years were tough on Tomas. He lost his job and the only employment he could find was on the drilling rigs in far away Canada. The work was hard and the winters cold but the money was good and he was able to save enough in five years to start his own business; shoveling snow in driveways in winter and mowing lawns in the summer. The older population of the city needed a reliable person to do these jobs and soon Tomas, now Tom, had several crews working all over Edmonton. He settled in a nice bungalow in a good area and invited neighbours on summer weekends to drink Hungarian wines and snack on crackers with goat cheese. It was at one such get together when Roberto – who had emigrated from Sicily twenty five years ago and lived a few doors away – showed him a watch he had just got fixed for a small fortune. It was a Rolex, not as fancy as the grampa’s gift but still elegant. He felt a sharp pang in his heart for his long lost love. He told his guests about the incident in Sydney and how much he missed that watch. Roberto had a brilliant idea, “Tom, it won’t do any harm to get an estimate here if you still have that box. Those watches are now collector’s item and people pay a fortune for them on e-bay.”
After the guests left, he rummaged through the cardboard boxes he had brought from Hungary over the years and stored neatly on shelves in the basement. It took a few hours, but he located the crushed Oysterdate. He dropped it at the Rolex store the next day. Two weeks later he got the call he had been waiting for, “The watch can be fixed but it will take some work. We estimate the cost at $1197.50, plus tax of course.”
Tom was happy that the watch could be fixed and the estimate did not surprise him. It was high but the business was doing better than ever and if he did meet his grumpy grampa in next life he did not want to have any explaining to do. He gave the go ahead and in four weeks the fixed watch was on his wrist. It did not glow in the dark, it did not have alarm, it ran on vibrations from the wrist and it gained a couple of minutes every day but it cost five thousand dollars new and it would sell for a lot more as an antique in an internet auction if his daughter did not want to keep it. Fortune favours the pack rats, thought Tom as he put the Omega in the old box and at the bottom of the heap where he had found his old and now the latest pride and joy.
Friday, February 10, 2012
A Break in Florida
Evelyn and I got up at the ungodly hour of five in the morning to prepare for our departure. The cab picked us at six and took us to the airport for the flight at eight. Due to ice on the runway the plane sat fully loaded on the tarmac for an hour and was late arriving at Minneapolis. We had to run to board the connection for Orlando. After getting off the plane there, we walked a kilometer to collect the luggage and another kilometer to the rental car counter. It took about half an hour to get the car. It was dark by then and I have difficulty in navigating at night in a strange city. The car representative set the GPS system to guide us to the hotel. However, it did not give any meaningful directions once we were out of the parking lot. After a fair bit of confusion, we decided to follow the map and were soon on the State Road 535. Now we had to find the Holiday Inn, number 11345 on this road. However, there were not many buildings with numbers posted on them and we coasted past a Holiday Inn located just before a restaurant that displayed 8110 in bright lights which we assumed was the address of that location. We were hungry by then and Evelyn was very tense as well – it was getting late and she had to prepare for a three hour seminar the next morning. The manager of the restaurant confirmed that the hotel we just passed was indeed the one we were looking for. He ascertained it by calling the receptionist. He then guided us to a table and we had a calming dinner. The room in the hotel was satisfactory, the bed comfortable and the sleep sound.
When Evelyn was at the seminar I set our GPS for Orlando and it guided me to the rental car company where I returned their GPS and then back to the hotel by a roundabout route as it often does. The next morning it took us to the Epcot Centre but went into a blind stupor on the way back, never to wake up again. By now I knew my way around the map and we found our destinations by the most direct route. I booked Sea World visit for myself the following day when Evelyn was busy and swimming with the dolphins for her the following day when I planned to visit Cape Canaveral Space Station. Evelyn had a great time snorkeling and playing with dolphins but the cold water got to her. On my return from the Cape soon after six, I found her in bed with all her warm clothes on and wrapped in blankets. She had been trying to warm up for an hour and it took a cup of hot tea and another thirty minutes of rest for her to get ready for dinner. A hot soup and a steak helped her return to normal. Back in the room, we packed for our return flights on the following morning. The temperature in Orlando was plus 24 degrees when we boarded the plane. Journey was uneventful and we were happy to be home although the temperature was minus 24 degrees when the flight landed in Calgary.
I felt that the Sea World and Epcot Centre were more hype than substance. The ‘theme parks’ had several frightening rides which appeal to the daring teens but do not do much for the older clientele. Saturday was a fine day when I drove to Cape Canaveral on the other coast of Florida. Fortunately, the state is a long thin peninsula and the distance from one coast to the other is about 50 miles (yes, they still live with miles and Fahrenheit down there) and on good roads it took just about an hour. The entry fee was less than half of that in so-called theme parks. To avoid driving in the dark I allowed myself six hours in the Space Centre visitor complex and it turned out to be enough time.
Rather than discuss the exhibits, it will perhaps be more interesting to describe the overall impression of the place and the emotions it created in me. The space facility is located in a Wildlife Refuge covering around two hundred square miles. The installations are spread out and a bus takes the ‘guests’ to the sites of interest. Lucky visitors get to see alligators, bald eagles and their nests and several unique birds. One nest on a tree next to the highway is fifty years old. It is as big as a double bed and it is still in use.
The exhibits in Cape Canaveral bring home to an observer the immense effort expanded during the sixties for the moon landing in 1969. It was accomplished by eight years of intense effort by two hundred thousand individuals. Each space craft is an assembly of two million ‘systems’ and each of these has to be perfect. The most talented people, whether from the U.S. or abroad, were hired to research, develop, design and test each step in the progression from theoretical musings in 1920 to the landing on the moon. The team that designed successful German space vehicles during the Second World War was moved to the U.S. after the war to help in space exploration there and its contribution turned out to be critical in the development of U.S. space technology. The willingness and ability to attract talent from all over the world and utilize it to the full extent has been a crucial factor in the huge lead U.S. has maintained in all aspects of Technology. Compare this to Hitler who expelled much of the German talent pool and lost the war.
Another impression the exhibits leave is the mind-boggling scale of resources in the U.S. The nation spent more on space exploration every year over last five decades than the total GDP of many countries. Also consider that there are more airplanes sitting on the Chicago airport than owned by the airlines and air force combined of many reasonably prosperous countries. The scientists and economists of the country win most of the international awards and some of the best social studies research is done and published there. Yet, the American cities have more homeless people, illicit drug use is rampant and there are more homicides every day than in any other developed country. The unemployment is on the rise and people need two or more jobs to make ends meet. Middle class, the traditional backbone of the economy, is shrinking as the wealth concentrates in ever fewer hands. Unbridled capitalism and free enterprise is not working for those who can’t help themselves. To make the situation worse, the people and the government are polarized at two extremes and no one can agree on the steps required to solve the social and economic problems. The prospects of social chaos increase by the day when the governments are unable to deal with the problems faced by a large and growing portion of the population. It does not need saying that a political upheaval in the U.S. will bring the economy of the whole world to a grinding halt. Unfortunately, the friends of the great country can do no more than hope that it will muster the will to use its vast economic and intellectual resources to find the solutions before the problems become unmanageable.
Veto at the U.N.
Last week Russia and China vetoed the resolution proposed by the Western powers at the U.N. The resolution was relatively innocuous asking President Assad to step down to avoid further bloodshed in his country. Obviously, these countries have learnt their lesson.
A similar resolution was put forward in the Security Council by Arab countries whose hereditary rulers are beholden to the West when the opposition to Muammar Gaddafi was gathering momentum in Libya. Assuming that the resolution meant no more than what the words said, these powers supported it. However, it was later used by NATO countries to directly intervene in Libya and cause the overthrow of the dictator inconvenient to the West which may not have occurred if Libyans were left alone to sort out their problems.
Every power bloc looks after its interests and it is foolish to expect China and Russia to be different. They are not likely to be hoodwinked twice by pious resolutions which are later distorted to suit their opponent’s purpose. If we need strong threatening resolutions to achieve our goals, let us put these forward and not try to be sneaky, whether it is Syria now or Iran in a few weeks.
Evelyn and I got up at the ungodly hour of five in the morning to prepare for our departure. The cab picked us at six and took us to the airport for the flight at eight. Due to ice on the runway the plane sat fully loaded on the tarmac for an hour and was late arriving at Minneapolis. We had to run to board the connection for Orlando. After getting off the plane there, we walked a kilometer to collect the luggage and another kilometer to the rental car counter. It took about half an hour to get the car. It was dark by then and I have difficulty in navigating at night in a strange city. The car representative set the GPS system to guide us to the hotel. However, it did not give any meaningful directions once we were out of the parking lot. After a fair bit of confusion, we decided to follow the map and were soon on the State Road 535. Now we had to find the Holiday Inn, number 11345 on this road. However, there were not many buildings with numbers posted on them and we coasted past a Holiday Inn located just before a restaurant that displayed 8110 in bright lights which we assumed was the address of that location. We were hungry by then and Evelyn was very tense as well – it was getting late and she had to prepare for a three hour seminar the next morning. The manager of the restaurant confirmed that the hotel we just passed was indeed the one we were looking for. He ascertained it by calling the receptionist. He then guided us to a table and we had a calming dinner. The room in the hotel was satisfactory, the bed comfortable and the sleep sound.
When Evelyn was at the seminar I set our GPS for Orlando and it guided me to the rental car company where I returned their GPS and then back to the hotel by a roundabout route as it often does. The next morning it took us to the Epcot Centre but went into a blind stupor on the way back, never to wake up again. By now I knew my way around the map and we found our destinations by the most direct route. I booked Sea World visit for myself the following day when Evelyn was busy and swimming with the dolphins for her the following day when I planned to visit Cape Canaveral Space Station. Evelyn had a great time snorkeling and playing with dolphins but the cold water got to her. On my return from the Cape soon after six, I found her in bed with all her warm clothes on and wrapped in blankets. She had been trying to warm up for an hour and it took a cup of hot tea and another thirty minutes of rest for her to get ready for dinner. A hot soup and a steak helped her return to normal. Back in the room, we packed for our return flights on the following morning. The temperature in Orlando was plus 24 degrees when we boarded the plane. Journey was uneventful and we were happy to be home although the temperature was minus 24 degrees when the flight landed in Calgary.
I felt that the Sea World and Epcot Centre were more hype than substance. The ‘theme parks’ had several frightening rides which appeal to the daring teens but do not do much for the older clientele. Saturday was a fine day when I drove to Cape Canaveral on the other coast of Florida. Fortunately, the state is a long thin peninsula and the distance from one coast to the other is about 50 miles (yes, they still live with miles and Fahrenheit down there) and on good roads it took just about an hour. The entry fee was less than half of that in so-called theme parks. To avoid driving in the dark I allowed myself six hours in the Space Centre visitor complex and it turned out to be enough time.
Rather than discuss the exhibits, it will perhaps be more interesting to describe the overall impression of the place and the emotions it created in me. The space facility is located in a Wildlife Refuge covering around two hundred square miles. The installations are spread out and a bus takes the ‘guests’ to the sites of interest. Lucky visitors get to see alligators, bald eagles and their nests and several unique birds. One nest on a tree next to the highway is fifty years old. It is as big as a double bed and it is still in use.
The exhibits in Cape Canaveral bring home to an observer the immense effort expanded during the sixties for the moon landing in 1969. It was accomplished by eight years of intense effort by two hundred thousand individuals. Each space craft is an assembly of two million ‘systems’ and each of these has to be perfect. The most talented people, whether from the U.S. or abroad, were hired to research, develop, design and test each step in the progression from theoretical musings in 1920 to the landing on the moon. The team that designed successful German space vehicles during the Second World War was moved to the U.S. after the war to help in space exploration there and its contribution turned out to be critical in the development of U.S. space technology. The willingness and ability to attract talent from all over the world and utilize it to the full extent has been a crucial factor in the huge lead U.S. has maintained in all aspects of Technology. Compare this to Hitler who expelled much of the German talent pool and lost the war.
Another impression the exhibits leave is the mind-boggling scale of resources in the U.S. The nation spent more on space exploration every year over last five decades than the total GDP of many countries. Also consider that there are more airplanes sitting on the Chicago airport than owned by the airlines and air force combined of many reasonably prosperous countries. The scientists and economists of the country win most of the international awards and some of the best social studies research is done and published there. Yet, the American cities have more homeless people, illicit drug use is rampant and there are more homicides every day than in any other developed country. The unemployment is on the rise and people need two or more jobs to make ends meet. Middle class, the traditional backbone of the economy, is shrinking as the wealth concentrates in ever fewer hands. Unbridled capitalism and free enterprise is not working for those who can’t help themselves. To make the situation worse, the people and the government are polarized at two extremes and no one can agree on the steps required to solve the social and economic problems. The prospects of social chaos increase by the day when the governments are unable to deal with the problems faced by a large and growing portion of the population. It does not need saying that a political upheaval in the U.S. will bring the economy of the whole world to a grinding halt. Unfortunately, the friends of the great country can do no more than hope that it will muster the will to use its vast economic and intellectual resources to find the solutions before the problems become unmanageable.
Veto at the U.N.
Last week Russia and China vetoed the resolution proposed by the Western powers at the U.N. The resolution was relatively innocuous asking President Assad to step down to avoid further bloodshed in his country. Obviously, these countries have learnt their lesson.
A similar resolution was put forward in the Security Council by Arab countries whose hereditary rulers are beholden to the West when the opposition to Muammar Gaddafi was gathering momentum in Libya. Assuming that the resolution meant no more than what the words said, these powers supported it. However, it was later used by NATO countries to directly intervene in Libya and cause the overthrow of the dictator inconvenient to the West which may not have occurred if Libyans were left alone to sort out their problems.
Every power bloc looks after its interests and it is foolish to expect China and Russia to be different. They are not likely to be hoodwinked twice by pious resolutions which are later distorted to suit their opponent’s purpose. If we need strong threatening resolutions to achieve our goals, let us put these forward and not try to be sneaky, whether it is Syria now or Iran in a few weeks.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Honour Killings, Arranged Marriages and Gender Equality
I left India fifty years ago and married an English girl five years later. My two brothers stayed behind to look after my aging parents who arranged their sons' marriages. By and large the family lives of my brothers were happy and produced my three nephews and two nieces. Two nephews overcame strong opposition and chose their wives and the marriages of the others were arranged. The nieces were married into prosperous families. One of them had two daughters. These girls were educated in elite schools, graduated with honours in commerce and now have important positions in Indian outposts of global enterprises. One of them did something Indian girls of her class rarely do – she fell in love with a colleague. But the lovers couldn’t just go and get married; the relationship had to be blessed by both sets of parents. In her case the family of the prospective groom did not approve, the young man lost heart and the bride-to-be was left to bake in the hot midday sun.
The family of my niece was very disappointed and they initiated a search for the replacement groom. Another prospect came forward but backed out during the negotiations. When Evelyn, my feminist wife, heard this sorry tale she was livid, “It is the same disrespect for women that is behind honour killings. Can you imagine the shame a beautiful and highly educated young woman in a respectable job feels in being marketed like a commodity, families bargaining the terms of what dowry she will bring without regard for what qualities she has? We should invite her to come to Canada. There will be a line up of men from here to eternity dying to marry her.”
Evelyn has a very good aim when it comes to hitting a nail on the head. The problem with arranged marriages is that the bride’s family has to chase the groom who plays hard to catch. Being put on display and being the one to be accepted or rejected by the prospective groom without reciprocal option is demeaning for the girl and sets the tone of the couple’s life together. Other customs which devalue women range in impact from murder at one extreme to constant put downs at the other. Honour killings, setting brides on fire when dowry is inadequate, female infanticide and abortion of female fetuses, old and fortunately now dead practice of Sati, sexual mutilation, use of niqab to cover the face and hijab to cover the head, physical and emotional punishment when her work is below expectation are expressions of the same basic belief - women are not as human as men. The sense of inferiority of women is so entrenched that women themselves believe it and participate in perpetuating it. This is why girls are treated like a burden to be borne by the family. They are an onerous responsibility to be grudgingly shouldered till they are old enough to be passed on, with appropriate compensation, to another family. It does not matter what women themselves feel or what they are capable of.
If customs that subjugate women are to be eliminated, men and women will have to be treated as equal, not only in law but in every day affairs as well. Social workers and educators dealing with immigrants from the developing world face a critical issue: Are the gender based customs edicts issued in religious scriptures or they are cultural conventions. Although the line between culture and religion is sometimes blurred, the scholars of most Hindu sects, Judaism and Christianity are agreed that this is not a religious issue. Although Islamic scholars are not unanimous in their opinion, the vast majority of them have stated that there is no gender prejudice in Quran and women have the same rights as men. This view is supported by the argument that if these customs were based purely on religion they would be observed universally while most of the practices mentioned above are regional and even there these are practiced among certain classes only. Moreover, evidence points to gender biases being of relatively recent origin. It has often been argued that the humiliation of women in a society began when it was in decline.
The murder of three girls in Rideau Canal by their parents and the sibling along with the step mother is shocking indeed and is rightly being condemned. But to consider it in isolation will be a mistake. To bring any meaningful change we need to see beyond the worship of goddesses, be they Lakshmi or Mary or Fatima and facile statements like ‘she is the queen of the house’. We have to create the belief that all human beings are equal irrespective of their race, religion or sex. All individuals have the same rights and responsibilities and traditional and cultural practices must demonstrate that. We can not hide behind the cover provided by multiculturism. We must work towards eradicating customs which treat half of the society unfairly, in Canada and all over the world.
Financing Pensions
Canadian Government is raising the issue once again of the increasing burden of supporting retiring people. In my opinion, the senior's problem is easily defined and the solution is straight forward. The root of the problem is that the life expectancy in Canada has increased steadily over the years. My elementary research suggests that it increases by one year every two years. Coincidentally or by design, when Old Age Security age was set at 65, life expectancy was close to 65 too.
If this is indeed the case, there is a simple solution to the problem. Let us make the age of seniority float with life expectancy. Whatever the life expectancy of an average Canadian, seniors' benefits (including retirement?) begin at an age directly related to it. This will stop the ballooning of the costs of older people without causing much hardship. As it is, a large number of people work beyond 65 (myself and wife included) anyway.
The change will cause a hue and cry but that will happen anyway, only the people screaming would be different.
I left India fifty years ago and married an English girl five years later. My two brothers stayed behind to look after my aging parents who arranged their sons' marriages. By and large the family lives of my brothers were happy and produced my three nephews and two nieces. Two nephews overcame strong opposition and chose their wives and the marriages of the others were arranged. The nieces were married into prosperous families. One of them had two daughters. These girls were educated in elite schools, graduated with honours in commerce and now have important positions in Indian outposts of global enterprises. One of them did something Indian girls of her class rarely do – she fell in love with a colleague. But the lovers couldn’t just go and get married; the relationship had to be blessed by both sets of parents. In her case the family of the prospective groom did not approve, the young man lost heart and the bride-to-be was left to bake in the hot midday sun.
The family of my niece was very disappointed and they initiated a search for the replacement groom. Another prospect came forward but backed out during the negotiations. When Evelyn, my feminist wife, heard this sorry tale she was livid, “It is the same disrespect for women that is behind honour killings. Can you imagine the shame a beautiful and highly educated young woman in a respectable job feels in being marketed like a commodity, families bargaining the terms of what dowry she will bring without regard for what qualities she has? We should invite her to come to Canada. There will be a line up of men from here to eternity dying to marry her.”
Evelyn has a very good aim when it comes to hitting a nail on the head. The problem with arranged marriages is that the bride’s family has to chase the groom who plays hard to catch. Being put on display and being the one to be accepted or rejected by the prospective groom without reciprocal option is demeaning for the girl and sets the tone of the couple’s life together. Other customs which devalue women range in impact from murder at one extreme to constant put downs at the other. Honour killings, setting brides on fire when dowry is inadequate, female infanticide and abortion of female fetuses, old and fortunately now dead practice of Sati, sexual mutilation, use of niqab to cover the face and hijab to cover the head, physical and emotional punishment when her work is below expectation are expressions of the same basic belief - women are not as human as men. The sense of inferiority of women is so entrenched that women themselves believe it and participate in perpetuating it. This is why girls are treated like a burden to be borne by the family. They are an onerous responsibility to be grudgingly shouldered till they are old enough to be passed on, with appropriate compensation, to another family. It does not matter what women themselves feel or what they are capable of.
If customs that subjugate women are to be eliminated, men and women will have to be treated as equal, not only in law but in every day affairs as well. Social workers and educators dealing with immigrants from the developing world face a critical issue: Are the gender based customs edicts issued in religious scriptures or they are cultural conventions. Although the line between culture and religion is sometimes blurred, the scholars of most Hindu sects, Judaism and Christianity are agreed that this is not a religious issue. Although Islamic scholars are not unanimous in their opinion, the vast majority of them have stated that there is no gender prejudice in Quran and women have the same rights as men. This view is supported by the argument that if these customs were based purely on religion they would be observed universally while most of the practices mentioned above are regional and even there these are practiced among certain classes only. Moreover, evidence points to gender biases being of relatively recent origin. It has often been argued that the humiliation of women in a society began when it was in decline.
The murder of three girls in Rideau Canal by their parents and the sibling along with the step mother is shocking indeed and is rightly being condemned. But to consider it in isolation will be a mistake. To bring any meaningful change we need to see beyond the worship of goddesses, be they Lakshmi or Mary or Fatima and facile statements like ‘she is the queen of the house’. We have to create the belief that all human beings are equal irrespective of their race, religion or sex. All individuals have the same rights and responsibilities and traditional and cultural practices must demonstrate that. We can not hide behind the cover provided by multiculturism. We must work towards eradicating customs which treat half of the society unfairly, in Canada and all over the world.
Financing Pensions
Canadian Government is raising the issue once again of the increasing burden of supporting retiring people. In my opinion, the senior's problem is easily defined and the solution is straight forward. The root of the problem is that the life expectancy in Canada has increased steadily over the years. My elementary research suggests that it increases by one year every two years. Coincidentally or by design, when Old Age Security age was set at 65, life expectancy was close to 65 too.
If this is indeed the case, there is a simple solution to the problem. Let us make the age of seniority float with life expectancy. Whatever the life expectancy of an average Canadian, seniors' benefits (including retirement?) begin at an age directly related to it. This will stop the ballooning of the costs of older people without causing much hardship. As it is, a large number of people work beyond 65 (myself and wife included) anyway.
The change will cause a hue and cry but that will happen anyway, only the people screaming would be different.
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