Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Preparing for a major public lecture - effective, but a bit bizarre and not very "efficient."

At mid day, today, I gave the second lecture in the Global Asia Institute Lecture Series. GAI is one which is one of my affiliations at the National University of Singapore. As at American University, there are many lectures at NUS each week. This one was not at the Lee Kuan Yew School but at the NUS Administration Building, University Hall, in elegant venue on the sixth floor with a gorgeous view of the city. The format seems to be a common one in Singapore and is somewhat similar to higher end luncheon events we initiated when I was Director of AU’s Center for Teaching Excellence (now the Center for Teaching Research and Learning).


Instead of seats in rows there were seven tables, beautifully set for a sit-down buffet lunch, each with an attractive flower arrangement in the Center. Invitations had been sent not only to the NUS community but to outsiders and a few representatives form the Singapore Government, the private sector the diplomatic community were in attendance. The event was billed not as a ‘lecture’ but as a conversation. After my talk of about 45 min, videotaped for posting on the GAI website, GAI Director Seetharam, Ambassador Dayan Jayatilleke (who was Sri Lanka’s High Commissioner and UN Representative in Geneva) and I adjourned to three armchairs on a raised platform and had a real conversation for about 40 min, first with each other and then with members of the audience. Dayan and I have been friends for more than 20 years. His father the former editor of Sri Lanka’s Daily News and then of the Lanka Guardian was one of my Sri Lankan mentors. So our conversation was relaxed and lively, engaged the audience, thought the subject matter was serious.


My approach to giving relatively high profile lectures such as almost always produces good results, but is not what you call efficient. Temperamentally, I now recognize that I will not produce the product I am looking for until the pressure of a deadline looms very close. This is true even if the topic is one on which I have spoken before. On Friday I tinkered and procrastinated. On Saturday I took the day off for a long bicycle ride on Singapore’s east coast. On Sunday I knew I had to get down to business, but decided I needed to read and annotate the Sri Lanka ruling party’s 100 page election manifesto, the Mahinda Chintana and incorporate it in my talk. This took most of the day. With this and that, my anxiety level was not high enough to really dig in until about 6:30 on Monday night. Then I worked until after 11 producing a final draft and printing it out (in case my computer crashed) a precaution I always try to take

.

I awoke Tuesday morning at 5:30 realizing that I had left out some important points that needed to be incorporated in an additional section. This improved the paper greatly, but made it too long. I always read my presentations out loud and time them with a stop watch. I hate it when others go over time and make it a priority to know that my talk will be the right length before I step to the lecture. This enables me to relax and pace my delivery. With revisions, my scheduled talk of forty minutes ran 65 minutes. By now it was nine AM and I was working efficiently. I decided to simply make cuts in the hard copy text and read the talk aloud again, making cuts with my marker as I went. With 15 min for breakfast and an extra dose of vitamins, I finished the process at 10:55. Feeling a bit bleary, I took a 10 minute power nap (the advantage of working in my apartment) showered, dressed in my television suit (with the appropriately color matched shirt and tie) and packed up my notes. Even though the temperature outside was over 90, I decided to make the 25 minute walk to University Hall. It was a beautiful morning with flowers blooming and, in the shade of trees along the way, the heat was quite bearable. When I arrived at the venue, I was able to greet some of the guests who were sitting down to lunch (a part of the ritual for these events) and then eat an extremely light vegetarian noodle dish before speaking. The talk lasted 45 minutes and I was sufficiently confident of the length to pace it as I wish. This makes a huge difference in holding the attention of an audience. I used no power points - I rarely do for this sort of event. When I looked out over the room I saw attentive eyes and engaged expressions - this is always reassuring. Afterwards, there were numerous photos to be taken. I hope I get some copies When I returned to my apartment, after 2:30 I felt drained and exhausted, but good. This somewhat bizarre ritual had worked out well again. I don’t really love it but accept that this is what it seems to take for me to produce a quality product. I decided to regenerate myself with a nap before returning to the tasks that I had mostly put off since Friday. And I decided to share my experience by writing this blog. Perhaps it will make student readers feel better about assignments and term-papers they write.


Here is an the abstract of my talk.


Looking beyond the war: Are Sri Lanka’s leaders more likely to learn from history or repeat it?


ABSTRACT

What are the prospects for reconciliation and a lasting political solution to Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict, following the government’s military victory over the LTTE and then Mahinda Rajapakse’s strong victory in the recent presidential election? This question is now engaging Sri Lankan political leaders as well as regional and international actors who concern themselves with Sri Lanka. In seeking answers, it will be useful to focus attention on the period before Sri Lanka’s conflict became protracted; before Sri Lanka’s government faced a cohesive, well lead militant group that was unwaveringly single-minded in its objectives.


Under three previous Sri Lankan governments, following elections in 1956, 1970 and 1977, there were lost opportunities to move toward communal reconciliation. Following decisive victories, the policies each government implemented lead, rather, to intensified confrontation accompanied by violence. Each sequence of events made it more likely that the next would catalyze formation of a viable militant movement, leading to protracted conflict. Between 1983 and 1985, that was the outcome. Now Sri Lanka’s government and civil society once again face circumstances where the Tamil community’s aspirations are not irrevocably (if unwillingly) tied to the LTTE’s agenda. There is an opportunity to learn from history rather than repeating it. Does Singapore’s less violent and more prosperous development trajectory also have lessons to offer?


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Thursday, April 22, 2010

Travling from first world to third world and back again

“From Third World to First” is the title former Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew chose for the second volume of his autobiography. The label could also be applied to my journey, last sunday, from Sri Lanka to Singapore. There is something meaningful to be said about contrasts between the two countries, the one - Sri Lanka - that was long viewed as Asia’s most promising development success story and the other - Singapore - that from unpromising beginnings successfully made the transition “From Third World to First.” ...But what??


Next Tuesday, I am committed to giving a fairly major address on this topic under the auspices of The National University of Singapore’s new Global Asia Institute. Here is the abstract I wrote describing this talk: entitled “Looking beyond the war: Are Sri Lanka’s leaders more likely to learn from history or repeat it?” shortly before my departure to Colombo:


What are the prospects for reconciliation and a lasting political solution to Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict, following the government’s military victory over the LTTE and then Mahinda Rajapaksa’s strong victory in the recent presidential election? This question is now engaging Sri Lankan political leaders as well as regional and international actors who concern themselves with Sri Lanka. In seeking answers, it will be useful to focus attention on the period before Sri Lanka’s conflict became protracted; before Sri Lanka’s government faced a cohesive, well lead militant group that was unwaveringly single-minded in its objectives.


Under three previous Sri Lankan governments, following elections in 1956, 1970 and 1977, there were lost opportunities to move toward communal reconciliation. Following decisive victories, the policies each government implemented lead, rather, to intensified confrontation accompanied by violence. Each sequence of events made it more likely that the next would catalyze formation of a viable militant movement, leading to protracted conflict. Between 1983 and 1985, that was the outcome. Now Sri Lanka’s government and civil society once again face circumstances where the Tamil community’s aspirations are not irrevocably (if unwillingly) tied to the LTTE’s agenda. There is an opportunity to learn from history rather than repeating it. Does Singapore’s less violent and more prosperous development trajectory also have lessons to offer?


But what - really - are the lessons that Singapore has to offer? My problem is that, after twenty-two years studying, and many months living in Sri Lanka during more that 40 sojourns ranging from a year, to several months, to short drop-ins, of a week or so, I can quickly adapt to the realities of Sri Lankan life, one facet of which is that many systems of “developed” countries - busses, taxis, public spaces, public water supplies, internet service, and more - simply don’t work very well. Because years of practice has enabled me to accept these inconveniences, I sometimes almost celebrate them. When I automatically remember to have boiled water on hand for brushing my teeth, to take my Malaria pills, to be careful of what I eat, to apply citronella before turning in, surround my bed with mosquito netting, enjoy cold showers, and much more, I feel as if I had “come home.” I experience little or no frustration. In fact, I love living in Sri Lanka, as I have come to love living in Singapore. But they are totally different life experiences.


When I returned to Singapore, I landed at an airport with forty or more planes from international carriers lined up at terminal gates. In Colombo, there were two, both Sri Lankan Air Lines. Flying over the Island as we made our approach, I saw more than 100 ships, either anchored, or transiting in out of the port. I cleared customs and immigration in 10 minutes. My baggage arrived soon afterwards and there was a customer service agent standing by the carrel, ready to help solve any problems. There is no waiting at the taxi queue and the driver as familiar with my destination. The drive to my apartment was on uncongested tree lined freeways, with orchids blooming in flower boxes lining the flyovers. I had the option of air conditioning in my apartment (mostly I don’t use it) and could brush my teeth with tap water. In Singapore, these simple amenities could almost be taken for granted, if one had not learned to live comfortably with the "reality" that having them was, very likely, impossible.


In four days, I must stand up before an international audience and say something intelligent about Sri Lanka’s future, and lessons that Singapore may have to offer. I have spoken on this topic before, but not soon after a trip that so sharply etched contrasts between the two nations and societies. No doubt useful insights will jell between now and next Tuesday, mid-day. But to say something that makes a difference will require some hard thinking and perhaps some hard praying as well.


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Friday, April 16, 2010

Celebrating Sinhalese New Year at breakfast

15 April 2010 - Colombo

I first visited Sri Lanka in the summer of 1987. Since then, I have visited every year but two. Some years, I have made three visits. My wife has remarked that if I wanted to choose a tropical island with political instability problems to study, why couldn’t I have chosen Jamaica.


Most US nationals whose work includes overseas assignments remain for relatively short tours of duty. For State Department and AID, the normal tour is three years. Moreover, becoming an “area specialist” and especially taking several assignments in the same country is somewhat frowned upon. Military overseas assignments in postings such as Afghanistan and Iraq are even shorter, not only for those fighting on the ground (typically one year) but even for commanding generals.


Ever since immersing myself in Sri Lanka, I have become increasingly skeptical of this practice. Here is just one reason. On each visit I discover new customs and practices; gain new insights; view a familiar scene in a completely different way as a result of something I have discovered. My friends exhibit new levels of trust by sharing confidences. Among things I have learned from chance conversations or being asked to participate are, for example:

  • Why so many modest restaurants, in improbable parts of Sri Lanka, have at least a few offerings of Chinese food on their menus
  • Why Sinhala and Tamil scripts are shaped so differently
  • The deep-rooted role that caste plays in many aspects of Sri Lankan society, even among the highly educated and well-to-do
  • Why, for many years, wine was taxed at the same high rate as hard liquor, which meant that little wine was drunk in Sri Lanka.
  • The traditional custom of a young child’s learning to write his or her first letter at an auspicious time, taught by an respected older relative or honorary “uncle.”

And on this trip, I was introduced to a traditional Sinhalese New Year breakfast, served at an auspicious time, on the morning of New Year’s day.


On New Year’s morning, we were awakened by loud firecracker detonations at the auspicious hour of 7 AM. At 9 AM, five of us - my 90 year old host, his housekeeper, her two teen-aged girls, and I, gathered for the traditional breakfast. Our introductions were punctuated by a second set of firecracker detonations, at the auspicious time of 9:10. This signaled that it was time to light the ceremonial oil lamp (actually candles) that commences many Sri Lankan ceremonies and festivals. A complex menu of traditional dishes was laid including most importantly, “kiribath rice” a rice cake made with coconut milk, which is served on various auspicious occasions. There were various sweets and pastries, plus ‘Sambols” (made with fish onions, coconut, coconut milk, chili peppers and other ingredients). So as not to offend the cook, it was important to take at least one of everything - which was a lot.


For many, including me, this began a day of socializing with friends, relatives and neighbors. In Sri Lanka, many of those who gathered would fit into all three categories.


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A short, but memorable visit to Sri Lanka’s Sinhalese Buddhist heartland

15th April Wedndesday - Colombo

I have always wanted to visit Matara, which is Sri Lanka’s Southern-most town. It is off the beaten path of international travelers; not a frequent tourist destination. Its modest colonial-era rail station is the last stop on line than runs South from Colombo along the west coast. (When the Tsunami hit, it engulfed a train filled with holiday travelers, killing most of them). Rail travel, especially on less modern trains is one of my passions. The single-track line from popular-tourist-destination Galle to Matara, with its many local stops and 35 KPH speed limit fills the bill perfectly.


The first guidebook describing Sri Lanka I bought, had a picture of the British era lighthouse at Dondra, the tallest in Sri Lanka. If one travels due South from its promontory, there is no land until Antarctica. A mental picture of Dondra lighthouse is one I have always carried with me. Matara area is the home of one of my closest Sri Lankan friends, of President Mahinda Rajapakse and many influential political leaders. Assassinated President Ranasinghe Premadasa was raised in the Matara area, though he later represented one of Sri Lanka’s toughest urban constituencies, Colombo Central.


So why had I never visited Matara, in 23 year of visiting and working in Sri Lanka? The reason is that I experience guilt when I consider doing something for the pure pleasure of it. Who knows why? If it is not work-related, it rarely makes the cut. I am not touting this as a virtue. Clearly it is a shortcoming, especially since spending time with family members rarely makes the cut for the same reason. I had no work-related reason to visit Matara.


The mentor (via his writings) who is beginning to convince me that vacations are an important part of life is former Singapore Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew, a brilliant, disciplined and incredibly hard-working leader whom I have come to deeply admire. No matter how daunting the problems he faced, in leading Singapore ‘From Third World to First,’ (The title of his autobiography’s second volume) Lee took time for exercise almost every day and for regular vacations. He believed this was essential to maintain top effectiveness. Vacations were a means to an end as well as an end in themselves.


My Sri Lanka trip was in part a break from the intense pace of work in Singapore , in part to move two projects forward and assess the political situation, but in part simply to reconnect with some of my closest friends. And I decided to devote two days of my seven day sojourn to a Matara visit. My host was a new friend whom I met on my last trip to Sri Lanka. He gave up a lucrative US professional career to move back to Sri Lanka and further his children’s education - in Matara. He and his son spent the better part of two days with me. I took two meals with his wife and his two beautiful teen-agers, a son and a daughter.


Matara is like much of Sri Lanka was when my wife and I first moved here. I stayed in a “Class A” guest house overlooking overlooking one of the most gorgeous ocean views one could imagine. The amenities provided were just sufficient to meet one’s needs. The cost of my room: about $8.00. Dinner for my friend and myself was four different Sri Lankan vegetable curries plus freshly cooked Papidams. The cost was about $6.00. Breakfast was potato curry, string hoppers, plantans and tea; cost $2.25. During my short stay, we visited Buddhist temples and walked along the beach. I purchased cotton cloth for new sarongs at a busy market and we had many long conversations. Sitting on the balcony of my room, listening to the waves and looking out over the ocean, I felt almost completely disconnected from the intense pace of my life in Washington, and Singapore.


And we visited the Dondra lighthouse. The picture I had carried in my mind for twenty-three years became physical. After a brief conversation, my friend obtained permission for us to climb the many, many, many stairs to the top; to view Sri Lanka and the ocean from the exterior balcony. There was only one other family of visitors, including a grandmother, probably about my age, who was bravely girding herself for the final ascent up steep iron ladder-stairs, to the balcony.


Through my Matara trip, I have gotten back in touch with the things that first attracted me to Sri Lanka. They have little to do with politics, conflict or political economy. This short journey of only 36 hours has cast a most curious spell. I feel changed inside, and a need to reassess. What this all means and where it might lead it is too soon to tell. So far, I only know that I must fully engage with this new experience; not ignore it or put it aside. And I know that I will be returning to Matara before too long.


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A brief encounter on a crowded Sri Lankan train

April 13th - Matara, Sri Lanka.

Tuesday, April 13 and Wednesday, April 14 are Sinhalese New Year. This is a time when many Colombo dwellers leave the city and return to home for family celebrations. When I set aside April 9-16 for a brief Sri Lankan stay, New Year’s holiday celebrations did not enter into my calculations. My plans included a trip to Matara, located on the Southernmost tip of the island to visit a new friend with whom I had connected, through common interests in Buddhism, on my last trip. (More about my Matara visit in another blog).


I had been warned that trains would be crowded with holiday travelers. Those giving the warnings were not exaggerating. Though Sri Lanka is touting itself, once again, as a tourist destination, the word has not yet filtered down to station managers and staff of Sri Lanka’s National Railways. Rail travel has become a Singala only experience. Such such snippets of as English as remain, on an occasional sign, are clearly colonial era vestiges. Once, intercity trains had postings on the side of cars, as European trains do, listing the station of origin and final destination. No longer. One needs to be persistent about asking questions of officials and cross check the answers for consistency. Example: Q. “Is this the train to Matara?” A. “No, the train will be at least an hour late.” Q. “Will it be on this track?” A. “I don’t know, maybe track 5, maybe track 6.” Q. “How will I know?” A. “You have to listen for the announcements.” Q. “What if you don’t understand Sinhala?” A. Shrug of shoulders.


In the end, there was no problem locating the train. There had been few waiting by track 6 at 10 AM, the scheduled departure time, but by 11 AM a large crowd had gathered. When the train pulled in passengers were already hanging off the sides of the Third Class carriages. Second Class carriages were nearly as full. There is supposed to be limit on the number of Second Class tickets issued so that passengers have a reasonable expectation of a seat but tickets appeared to have been sold without limit and there were no conductors on board. It was survival of the fittest, though with most passengers accepting their lot with reasonable humor. I staked out a claim a Second class car vestibule where I would have a wall to lean against and where there would be reasonable circulation of air. As other passengers boarded or disembarked and itinerant snack sellers crowded by with their wares, I smiled benignly, but held my ground immovably.


Opposite me in the narrow compartment, having also staked out a claim to a bit of wall, was a young Dutch woman of about 30, one of the most attractive, in a wholesome Dutch way, that I have ever met. As the train lurched forward, we struck up a conversation. She was a business school graduate and a become a successful business executive for an international corporation. But the “grind” of corporate life did not agree with her and she had chosen to take three months off to back pack through Asia, a part of the world she loved, while considering the next phase of her life.


After a number of weeks in India, which included a month studying yoga, she told me, crowded trains no longer bothered her. It was her first trip to Sri Lanka so I shared my impressions of the country and commented on her planned itinerary to visit beaches and cultural highlights. In addition to India, she had already visited Cambodia and Viet Nam and through her work, many other parts of the world. This exchange began a wide ranging conversation about international travel, politics, international development, international business. spirituality and future career options she was considering that continued, almost uninterrupted, for the more than two and a half hours that we stood facing one another in the crowded, hot, noisy vestibule. As our conversation ebbed and flowed, it was easy to forget about the uncomfortable circumstances. The time passed quickly.


Her stop was Hikkaduwa, a surfing and resort area. She had no reservation but told me that was not a problem. She preferred to negotiate a place to stay on the spur of the moment and was confident she would find one. As she hefted a heavy back pack to disembark, I realized we had not thought to exchange our names. I gave her my card told her to send me an email if I could be of help with her future plans. If this were a novel, our paths might well cross again, but this is life. It is improbable.


The Lord Buddha reminds us that life is impermanent. All the more reason to treasure special moments, events, relationships and brief encounters, without clinging to them.


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Saturday, April 10, 2010

Hubris, it’s always waiting to pounce on the self-satisfied

This was one of those perfectly planned and executed travel mornings. Even though I worked later than I had planned, I was able to pack for 9 day stay Sri lankan stay in record time. I booked a taxi and (this being Singapore) it awaited me as I emerged from my apartment at 4:15 AM. I had been warned by Sri Lankan airlines to arrive two hours early but (this being Singapore) I arrived at the Airport at 4:55 and was fully checked in by 5:10. There was time for a leisurely breakfast, answering of emails and blog writing.


Life was good until I got to the security check point, which in Singapore is at the departure gate. This makes lines shorter and the process less demeaning. I always carry my Swiss army knife in my backpack and, during a somewhat rushed a packing evening had completely forgotten to remove it. Usually being prepared for security check is a preoccupation. This time I had given it no thought at all in my packing. Security staff also confiscated a small screwdriver that I use to repair my glasses. Happily I was able to present an image of a cheerful and well intended, if absent minded professor rather than a potential hijacker. They allowed me to board without any further problems. The rest of the day went smoothly except that: my airport taxi got lost trying to find my new housing destination and, no one was on hand at the AISLS offices when I arrived - it was locked tightly.


But as we say in Sri Lanka, these were ‘small problems,‘ resolved with little difficulty. I am now - more or less - comfortably settled, adjusting to life without air conditioning and seeking to fend off future attacks of hubris by living life humbly, without self-satisfaction.

Hither and Thither

Friday, April 9, 2010

Hither and thither,

In his book, ‘How to See Yourself as You Really Are,’ the Dalai Llama reminds us that we should not not only value other human beings, but all sentient beings. “Even be prepared to help an ant, out of a puddle,” he urges.


Singapore has relatively few bugs and almost no mosquitoes, which makes it easier to follow the Dalai Llama’s principle than, for example, in Sri Lanka. One is not perpetually contesting with creatures for living space. But one does encounter a species of tiny ants, though rarely in large numbers. Occasionally one or two will scuttle across a page I am reading or my computer keyboard. I let them be. In the morning, there can be quite a large number scurrying along the moldboard of my apartment. If I have left crumbs out on my kitchen counter, the ant population sees this as an opportunity for a good meal or, perhaps, to replenish community food supplies.


What I find interesting about the ants is how they scurry about in all directions (including opposite directions) without any obvious sense of purpose. What are the ‘causes and conditions,’ to use Buddhist terminology, that motivates this behavior?


When I awake in the morning, normally about 6 AM, it is still dark. Before beginning meditation practice I often walk out on my balcony and look out over the city of Singapore, beginning to awake in the early morning darkness. Even though it is early, the roads and expressways are filling with traffic - cars, busses, trucks and the occasional motorcycle scurrying, with headlights lit, in all directions. Since the normal Singapore work day is 12 hours, people are often up and about early. From a distance, one can imagine that all this activity is generated by a slightly different species of ants. What are the causes and conditions that motivate all of this scurrying, hither and thither? Are they that much different - really - than whatever it is that motivates the ants in my apartment?


PS. In Colombo, the ants are larger, more numerous and more purposeful. Following the Dalai Lama’s precepts to love all sentient beings is more of a challenge.

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Friday, April 02, 2010

The relevance of Urban Dynamics to Singapore's success story...

The relevance of Urban Dynamics to Singapore’s Success Story: Lessons for ‘Moving Beyond the Crisis.’


System Dynamics is a method and body of theory for representing and understanding complex systems, especially social/political/economic systems. Singapore is an example of the sort of system System Dynamics modelers seek to understand. The most famous book using the method was The Limits to Growth (1972), by Donella Meadows, Dennis Meadows, Jurgen Randers and Bill Behrens. There have been two more iterations by three of the same authors, Beyond the Limits (1992) and Limits to Growth: The 30 year update (1994).


Since mid January, with the assistance of a great collaborator, I have been working as many hours a day as human endurance makes possible to produce a paper drawing lessons from Singapore’s experience using this method. Committing oneself to a product with a firm drop-dead date (in this case submission for refereeing) has advantages. Like a student term-paper, it forces one to make the inevitable choices and compromises necessary to bring a project to completion. But the process of doing so can be draining - even hellish. It is also true that viewing the final product, even with its imperfections, can be very gratifying.


Here is the abstract of our paper. The “crisis” to which the title refers is the global crisis of potential overshoot and collapse described in the Limits to Growth and its successor volumes.


The relevance of Urban Dynamics to Singapore’s Success Story: Lessons for ‘Moving Beyond the Crisis.’


This paper seeks answers to a question implicit in the theme of The 28th International System Dynamics Conference Program: “how can humankind move “Beyond the Crisis” towards political economies that are more resilient, sustainable and humane?” Its focus is cities, which are seen both as the principal loci of the crisis and pointing paths to moving behind it. Those concerned with urban challenges need new ways of viewing the problems they face. In seeking new ways, they should consider what Dr. Louis Alfeld has called “perhaps the most insightful System Dynamics application ever developed”: Jay Forrester’s urban dynamics model. This representation of cities as living systems seeking equilibrium with their environments offers lessons that are timeless and needed. A notable development success story, Singapore illustrates applications of these lessons by leaders who were not even familiar with Forrester’s work. This further highlights the value and contemporary relevance of the urban dynamics model’s worldview.


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What they taught was simply an expression of who they were...

As Dormgrandpop readers know, I am an avid listener to the American Public Radio broadcast, ‘Speaking of Faith’ (http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/) podcasts This is especially true in Singapore, since a don’t have a radio and have pretty much forgone television viewing. The following is a note I wrote this morning to the program’s producers.


My contact with Speaking of Faith is through podcasts, almost always the ‘unedited cuts.’ I value the expansion of mind and soul they evoke, during a very intense period of research in Singapore requiring focus and discipline. Your podcasts are companions as I carry out the routine tasks of life - cooking, dishwashing, folding laundry and housecleaning early in the morning and late in the evening, after returning from work.


Because I listen to so many, I have become conscious of a qualitative difference that seemed worth sharing. It began as I noted the cuts I returned to for a first, second and even third listening: Jean Vanier, Katy Payne, Matheu Richard Jaqueline Novogratz, Kate Braestrup and my all-time favorite, the late Joe Carter. My reactions to two of your most recent interviews - with Michael McCollogh and Robert Wright were very different. They seemed like smart, self-confident guys, like many of my academic colleagues, (probably me as well) who thought they knew all - or most - of the answers, which members of the listening audience probably did not.


Reflection lead to greater insight into what I was experiencing. Those interviewees whom I listed first were sharing ideas based on life experiences. Their ideas and lives were, essentially one and the same. With McCollogh and Wright, there was no obvious connection between what they thought and how they lived. Matheu Ricard captured my point beautifully in describing differences between the intellectuals who gathered at his father’s home in France and the Buddhist monks with whom he studied in India. Many of the former group were brilliant but were neither very nice, nor very happy men and women. His Buddhist teachers however, were the same human beings twenty-four hours each day with whomever they encountered. What they taught was simply an expression of who they were.


There may be a lesson in this for those of us in the teaching profession.


Here are the names of the interviewees and the titles of their podcasts mentioned above.

Michael McCullogh - Getting Revenge and Forgiveness,

Robert Wright, The Evolution of God

Katy Payne, Whale Songs and Elephant Loves

Jaqueline Novogratz, A Different Kind of Capitalism - The Reinvention of Aid

Jean Vanier, The Wisdom of Tenderness

Mattheu Ricard, The Happiest Man in the World

Kate Braestrup, Presence in the Wild


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