Singapore is called the garden city, lush tropical plants and trees line the streets and sidewalks. Still the soothing feeling of being surrounded by nature is missing. Instead there is an eerie atmosphere enveloping the city. At a closer look one realizes why: all vegetation is perfectly trimmed, no leafs are sticking out inappropriately and no tree branches scratching the bus roofs. This immaculate orderliness resembles much of what Singapore stands for.
In Singapore, everything seems to be simply perfect. It is one of the most affluent countries on earth and probably the shiniest, cleanest city as well. And of course people are proud of it, manifested in monuments like the great "Fountain of Wealth"--the biggest Fountain on the planet.
Because of its success, Singapore is seen as an Utopian Vision by many leaders of developing countries. Especially China holds the 'Tiger City's' achievements in the highest regard. A Chinese official asked by the New York Times what he values most about Singapore summed it up as follows: "It's run by Chinese, it's efficient, it's rich, and no one jabbers about human rights." For the many people who expect China to 'open up' and liberalize in course of its economic rise, a closer look at Singapore might instead provide a future vision of China.
The achievements of former prime minister's People's Action Party (PAP) are indeed impressive, it transformed Singapore from a swampy island to one of the world's most developed countries (25th in the 2007 Human Development Index). How was that achieved? The answer is Social Engineering. Like the botany on famous Orchard Road, Singaporean society was meticulously tailored towards the Party's vision. Every thinkable aspect of social life is controlled and regulated. The most evident signs are the ubiquitous prohibition signs threatening exorbitant fines for minor offenses, i.e. consumption of food items in the subway without holding valid permit. More subtly, immigration quotas maintain ethnic balance in society according to what the government deems appropriate. Individualism has, of course, little place in a country whose leader once referred to his subjects as "digits" (according to this article in The Times).
Life as a digit can be very comfortable, riding to business meetings in a comfortable car, enjoying the rich cuisine and shopping in one of the ubiquitous malls to relax. Singaporeans interviewed by Oliver James for his book "Affluenza" placed shopping on the highest ranks of their favourite leisure activities. Indeed, the soothing effect of affluence seems to be the answer to most problems arising in this society. The government officials in Singapore receive some of the highest salary's in the world, with the current prime minister's annual earnings roughly equal S$2m (according to information by the opposition). "Satisfactory remuneration is a prerequisite to combat corruption. If you can't make ends meet then the temptation to receive bribes is high," comments Joseph Cheng, political analyst at Hong Kong University, in an 2002 article on singapore-window.com. George W. Bush, in comparison, is in the same article said to earn around US$400.000. This is certainly one way to fight corruption.
The benefits of the Singaporean model are clear--but what are the costs?
To find out, on National Day 2008 I went to meet members of the Singapore Democratic Party, to see it click here...
Make sure your sound is switched on!
Their lack of freedom has been paid for with a shower of wealth. What will happen if, however, one day this runs dry remains to be seen...
About Me
Sunday, 10 August 2008
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
Thursday, 31 July 2008
A Nomad in the Land of Noise
Silence. Most people loath it, since it will make them feel uncomfortable they will try to avoid it at any cost. Some people need it to keep sane. I am one of them and at times China is turning me into a raving mad neurotic. There is simply no silence.
You enter the city, there is constant honking. Most drivers use the horn in a more Confucian sense. It serves not as a humiliation device like in Germany or most other Western countries, but more like an echolot, preventing the others from loosing face through ill-advised maneuvers by constantly sending out an array of honks announcing “here I come” wherever they are going. Who knows, natural evolution might equip Chinese drivers with a bat-like sense to locate other cars just by their sounds in the future. The horn volume is proportional to the importance of the concerned car; a major intercity express bus will easily honk out a starting jetplane.
So you might try and flee the city and enter the countryside sleeping in a small village. That works pleasantly until at 6am a tower of gigantic loudspeaker on top of the hill screams the morning news into the valley. Good morning.
You might try to enter a hotel for some sleep. Good luck. The windows are usually so thin you will probably find yourself checking at least once if there is really glass inside the frames—but don’t worry, the street sounds will falter at around 1am. Having just fallen into sleep, you might be mildly infuriated when you wake up at 3am from people shouting at the top of their voice right in front of your door. At around 6am the honking will return with all might.
You might be tired now. How about going to the park the for some rest? Cicadas the size of mice and with proportional acoustic might most probably greet you from every tree with a sound so loud you instinctively shield your ears. Only the karaoke craze in the middle of the park will be able to overtone their concert. Most pleasant.
Long distance buses are usually a good place to catch up on some sleep. Not in China. There will be either music or sound of an ancient kung fu movie transmitted over the vehicle’s speaker system, preferably at such a volume it’s all distorted.
After a month you will most probably feel like a rabid dog, loaded with irate fury but impossible to release it. Only Earplugs can save you.
You enter the city, there is constant honking. Most drivers use the horn in a more Confucian sense. It serves not as a humiliation device like in Germany or most other Western countries, but more like an echolot, preventing the others from loosing face through ill-advised maneuvers by constantly sending out an array of honks announcing “here I come” wherever they are going. Who knows, natural evolution might equip Chinese drivers with a bat-like sense to locate other cars just by their sounds in the future. The horn volume is proportional to the importance of the concerned car; a major intercity express bus will easily honk out a starting jetplane.
So you might try and flee the city and enter the countryside sleeping in a small village. That works pleasantly until at 6am a tower of gigantic loudspeaker on top of the hill screams the morning news into the valley. Good morning.
You might try to enter a hotel for some sleep. Good luck. The windows are usually so thin you will probably find yourself checking at least once if there is really glass inside the frames—but don’t worry, the street sounds will falter at around 1am. Having just fallen into sleep, you might be mildly infuriated when you wake up at 3am from people shouting at the top of their voice right in front of your door. At around 6am the honking will return with all might.
You might be tired now. How about going to the park the for some rest? Cicadas the size of mice and with proportional acoustic might most probably greet you from every tree with a sound so loud you instinctively shield your ears. Only the karaoke craze in the middle of the park will be able to overtone their concert. Most pleasant.
Long distance buses are usually a good place to catch up on some sleep. Not in China. There will be either music or sound of an ancient kung fu movie transmitted over the vehicle’s speaker system, preferably at such a volume it’s all distorted.
After a month you will most probably feel like a rabid dog, loaded with irate fury but impossible to release it. Only Earplugs can save you.
Sunday, 27 July 2008
Birthday in Chengdu
I almost forgot its my birthday today, only realized when I saw the date on the New York Times website this morning. A Gin Tonic in the garden of my hostel was the climax of my celebration.
Work on my Ningxia report takes longer than expected, potentially due to a certain degree of not wanting to do it. Took a walk to the local McDonalds to cure my broken stomach with some of the tasteless matter they sell as food. Could not resist taking some pictures on the way.
Work on my Ningxia report takes longer than expected, potentially due to a certain degree of not wanting to do it. Took a walk to the local McDonalds to cure my broken stomach with some of the tasteless matter they sell as food. Could not resist taking some pictures on the way.
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| Chengdu |
Saturday, 26 July 2008
A Night in Xi'An
Having finished my report and hosting a happy stomach bug I was looking forward to my bed in Chengdu where I planned to sleep for the next twenty-four hours. I doze off constantly in the bus to Yinchuan arriving at the airport in a state of complete daze. Stomach is returning to normal, but fever seems to be kicking in. My flight is delayed 2 hours. My translator leaves me saying "Oh, and something I just remembered, a friend told me once never to fly with China Eastern airways, so good luck!". At around eleven the plane finally takes off and I sink into deep sleep. Just a moment later the stewardess shouts at me, I have to put my seat in the upright position for the landing.
Stopover at Xi'An.
30 minutes later the pilot lifts the airplane into the night sky again. The airport is deserted and the shadows of the airplanes look grotesquely deformed in the artificial light. Screaming rips me out of my dreams again, but this time its a collective disdainful groan coming from all other passengers. It is a response to some announcement in Chinese, the following English version is barely audible, but I when I make out the words "bad weather","captain" and "return to Xi'An" I understand the mood of dissatisfaction.
Back at Xi'an.
The plane has been back at its gate for at least 20 minutes now. Finally there is an announcement "we have arrived at Xi'An, please wait for further information". Several passengers are shouting at the flight attendants. The girl in front of me tells me in English she has seen me today at the Yin Jiao hotel in Xi'An. There is another announcement, calling the passengers to leave the airplane and wait in the airport for further developments. Some people comply but most refuse to leave their seats, maybe feeling a bit closer to Chengdu already this way. In the airport emotions are running high, a Chinese man shouts at the top of his voice towards the service staff who answer with a pitiful grin. Three security officers encircle him and he becomes quieter. For two hours there is no information, an Nepalese family borrows my laptop to change their flights to Kathmandu for the next morning. At around 3am I find an English-speaking airline staff member who tells me "bus is coming, waiting". Just 60 minutes later the bus to some hotel in Xi'An arrives. It takes another 30 minutes until it leaves and at 5am we arrive at the hotel. I fall into a manic sleep with intermingling dreams. The phone rings at 7am, we have to get into the bus to get back to the airport. But there is breakfast.
Leaving Xi'An
Things run smoothly at the airport this time. Without comment I am given 400 yuan by airline staff in exchange for my signature on a list. At 10:15, perfectly on time, the plane takes of for Chengdu and I arrive an hour later. Still I have a feeling that most probably I will never fly with China Eastern again.
Stopover at Xi'An.
30 minutes later the pilot lifts the airplane into the night sky again. The airport is deserted and the shadows of the airplanes look grotesquely deformed in the artificial light. Screaming rips me out of my dreams again, but this time its a collective disdainful groan coming from all other passengers. It is a response to some announcement in Chinese, the following English version is barely audible, but I when I make out the words "bad weather","captain" and "return to Xi'An" I understand the mood of dissatisfaction.
Back at Xi'an.
The plane has been back at its gate for at least 20 minutes now. Finally there is an announcement "we have arrived at Xi'An, please wait for further information". Several passengers are shouting at the flight attendants. The girl in front of me tells me in English she has seen me today at the Yin Jiao hotel in Xi'An. There is another announcement, calling the passengers to leave the airplane and wait in the airport for further developments. Some people comply but most refuse to leave their seats, maybe feeling a bit closer to Chengdu already this way. In the airport emotions are running high, a Chinese man shouts at the top of his voice towards the service staff who answer with a pitiful grin. Three security officers encircle him and he becomes quieter. For two hours there is no information, an Nepalese family borrows my laptop to change their flights to Kathmandu for the next morning. At around 3am I find an English-speaking airline staff member who tells me "bus is coming, waiting". Just 60 minutes later the bus to some hotel in Xi'An arrives. It takes another 30 minutes until it leaves and at 5am we arrive at the hotel. I fall into a manic sleep with intermingling dreams. The phone rings at 7am, we have to get into the bus to get back to the airport. But there is breakfast.
Leaving Xi'An
Things run smoothly at the airport this time. Without comment I am given 400 yuan by airline staff in exchange for my signature on a list. At 10:15, perfectly on time, the plane takes of for Chengdu and I arrive an hour later. Still I have a feeling that most probably I will never fly with China Eastern again.
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| A Night in Xi'An |
Friday, 18 July 2008
Ningxia
Still in Guyuan. Still in the Dust. Still in the Bus. Its the second week in Ningxia province in China and it is consuming me. Up to six hours we spend every day in crowded buses riding over the pothole minefields euphemistically called streets here. Sometimes we reach Jiao Cha, 'our village', in less than 3 hours. The villagers have never seen anybody from the outside world. It is extraordinary. We have chosen a family which we have been visiting for the last weeks. Their life is a struggle incomparable to anything I have ever seen, but still they have not lost their will to life.
There are no problems with the government or police, in fact the local government organized a driver for us.
This place is like a desert. The dust gets in everywhere, even the food in the village restaurant is dusty. There are no pictures yet, because they might be for the German magazine. I will post them as soon as possible.
There are no problems with the government or police, in fact the local government organized a driver for us.
This place is like a desert. The dust gets in everywhere, even the food in the village restaurant is dusty. There are no pictures yet, because they might be for the German magazine. I will post them as soon as possible.
Wednesday, 9 July 2008
beijing part two
Today I had some time to have a look around. No time to write anything unfortunately, tomorrow morning will start at 4:30 for me.
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| Beijing 2 |
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