Sunday, May 30, 2010

Perhaps the most moving book dedication to a marriage partner I have ever read

Journalist Tom Plate has just completed a short book entitled Conversations with Lee Kuan Yew. More about the book in another posting. The book was “launched” last week and I attended one of the launch events, held at the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy (my temporary ‘home’).


Before beginning his book talk, Plate did something not-unusual, which was to introduce his wife, Andrea, who had accompanied him on the trip. This is a familiar ritual when a wife is present, however his introduction was unusual. He took a few minutes to describe his wife’s work (see below) and concluded with an observation. He said he viewed his wife’s work as far more important than his own, and suggested we might find speaking with her to be more interesting than speaking with him, when the talk was over. He seemed absolutely sincere. Unfortunately, I had to leave early to catch the shuttle bus and had no time to speak with her, which I very much would have liked to do.


But I did buy a copy of the book and in the front was Plate’s dedication, which I believe is worth sharing. Those who are both married and have written books and/or been married to someone who has, will appreciate it most.


To Andrea, Darvi Plate, MSW, LCSW


who endured the not inconsiderable efforts and author’s isolation that produced this book with her customary knowing stares, stoic wails and quiet pain. She holds academic degrees from UC Berkeley, USC and UCLA, but her work with the severely challenged veteran population at the U.S. Veterans Administration Hospital in West Los Angeles, California, was too all consuming to permit her time to read any drafts. Even so, without her ... well, probably, there might be no book, for she is greatly responsible for the wonders of my life and the steadiness of my career as an international journalist.

She is my wife and who wouldn’t be lucky to have her.




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Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Enjoying one's children - as adults

In my generation, marriage at a fairly young age was common. Since hormones were flowing and birth control unreliable, children came early. My first wife and I had our first child at age 23; the second less than two years later. I use to think this was a disadvantage. We were young and inexperienced, with little knowledge of life, apart from imperfect role-models our parents provided. And we were poor. Our income - my salary as junior military officer and my wife’s as a salesperson - was modest. When our daughter was born, my my wife stopped working for a time. Later, when I was a graduate student, our principal income was a modest stipend plus funds from a research project and a small boutique my wife opened. As a young family, we had fun with our children and each other, but always seemed to be close to the edge, financially. We were often exhausted from efforts to balance the conflicting demands of child-rearing, the boutique and my doctoral studies. Many others were worse off, but I sometimes wonder how we survived.


Now, US couples marry later and often defer child rearing until the thirties or even later. I used to envy these couples. They had so much more life-experience and income. I assumed they must be better parents and that their family circumstances must be more worry free and fulfilling.


Now I am less certain of this. For one thing, divorce is common among couples in their late forties. This is a time when marriage partners may tire of each others and ask themselves “is this all there is to life and relationships?” They decide on another roll of the marital dice. My first wife and I divorced in that time frame. When a couple splits, my impression is that children’s needs do not much enter into the calculations - “staying together for the needs of the children” is no longer popular. But they are very much impacted. I know academic couples where one erstwhile ‘life-partner’ lives in Boston and the other in San Francisco. Their two children, both under 10 years old have joined a legion of compatriots whose holidays are punctuated by trips from airport to airport with their names on signs around their necks and documents identifying them as ‘unaccompanied‘ minors. Our children, born when we were young, were at least much older.


When I began this posting, I had not intended to dwell so long on past history. Nor is it my wish to pass judgement on decisions other couples make, in very different circumstances, that might be different from ours. Rather, I wanted to share the joys of being able to relate to one’s adult children, as adults, while still being young enough to do so.


My daughter is a successful landscape architect, living in the Southern US, beloved by a legion of friends. My visits to her home can be a time of candid, personal sharing, relaxation and fun. Our interactions are largely unencumbered by the pretenses, pretensions and resentments that so often trivialize - even poison - relationships between parents and children, husbands, wives, siblings and relatives.


My son leads a international company with offices and outreach in a growing number of Asian countries. We spent last weekend in Kuala Lumpur, where he was leading an event for 500 of his top Malaysian distributors. All arrangements, in the “Club” section of a top Malaysian hotel were made by his staff - but it was not a vacation jaunt for him or even for me. We both arose early and attended to business on the internet. Mobile phone calls and text messages demanded attention. He was sometimes busy with meetings plus preparing for a major speech and two more informal addresses. Sunday was a day-long event, concluded with eight course Chinese dinner banquet. During many informal conversations with event participants I got to play a role valued in Chinese, Malay and Indian cultures, that of an admiring father, nearing the end of his own productive working life, rejoicing in the success of a child, in this case their “International President.” Scores - perhaps hundreds - of group photos were taken.


There was also time for several hours of uninterrupted conversation in which my son and I not only shared memories but also work-life experiences. We discovered uncanny similarities in how we had approached similar management problems, were able to laugh at each other’s foibles, acknowledge differences and share good advice. Seated in a front row during events events and the head table during the final banquet. I could enthusiastically applaud the success of distributors who were being acknowledged and my son’s speeches, The applause was genuine, not dutiful or contrived,


We left the banquet early. My son had a 1 AM Beijing flight to catch. The following day he would begin a similar round there - his company is opening markets in a number of Chinese cities. As he packed we shared similar and different international travel mishaps and explored the possibility of a later meeting in Beijing. I helped with his baggage as we descended in the elevator and walked through the cavernous hotel lobby. We hugged briefly. Then he climbed into a waiting taxi and was off to his next adventure.


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Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Horse metaphors about punishment from Buddha’s teachings

The following is excerpted from a note I wrote to an acquaintance who likes horses and horseback riding.


“This morning, I was reading The Dhammapada, which is a collection of Buddha’s poetic sayings written down by his disciples at a gathering about three months after his death. Pali, the language in which Buddha spoke is a bit like Sinhalese, the majority community language in Sri Lanka, and very different than English. Because of this, there is no agreement about exactly what Dhammapada means in English. The translation I prefer is “Teachings Regarding the Path to Enlightenment.”


There were two teachings that used horses as a metaphor. You came to mind and so I thought I would share. They are from the chapter entitled “The Rod -- or Punishment.” The passages are these.


[15] Rarely is found in this world anyone who, restrained by modesty, avoids reproach as a thoroughbred horse avoids the whip.


[16] Like a thoroughbred horse, touched by the whip, even so be strenuous and zealous. By confidence, by virtue, by effort, by concentration, by investigation of the Truth and by being endowed with knowledge and conduct, and by being mindful, get rid of this great suffering.”


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Saturday, May 15, 2010

Singapore good samaritans and a trip to the emergency room

I thought I was being super careful riding my bicycle home in the evenings - but not careful enough. On the final leg of my journey last evening, I was steering around a middle aged pedestrian lady when I skidded, lost my balance, hit a guardrail and fell with a crash! When I attempted to pop up, apologize, say “I’m just fine” and resume my journey, I realized I wasn’t just fine - my right arm had no motor power. The encounter had dislocated my shoulder.


“What do you want to do?,” the pedestrian lady asked in a concerned voice. She was soon joined by a young Indian man who turned out to be an engineering Ph.D. student at NUS. We eventually decided to walk the mile or so to the Kent Vale security office to seek help and advice. Fortunately, my other extremities were functioning normally, though I was feeling shaky and, of course, totally stupid for my carelessness in having such a fall. The good news was how compassionate and helpful my two samaritans and, when we reached our destination, my friends at the security check point were.


I decided to taxi to the emergency room of nearby University Hospital and over my assurances that I could manage, the Indian student insisted on coming along. There I got another taste of Singaporean efficiency. Thanks to my employment pass and “i-Medicare” card, paperwork took less than five minutes, with my Indian friend completing a few details as I was wheeled to the waiting area. I was triaged and assigned a queue number. Almost everything in Singapore has a queue number, with numbers flashing on electronic screens. Wait time was 10-15 minutes but seemed longer as my shoulder was becoming quite painful. But this provided time to learn about my new friend’s Ph.D studies and dissertation topic.


The rest was simple. Dr. Chang, a nice woman in her 40s said that indeed my shoulder was dislocated but ‘popping it back in’ would be no problem. She gave me an IV and I soon became unconscious. When I awoke, my shoulder was back in place and my arm was immobilized in a sling. By now it was 1 AM. I was ready to pick up pain pills at the pharmacy and go home. Again, this took less than 5 minutes. My samaritan friend, who had spent more than three hours caring for me and waiting firmly refused my offer of taxi fare and walked into the night. The next morning he called to see how I was doing and offered to buy groceries. I will certainly taking him out for a great Indian dinner. I also received a call from the hospital, scheduling an orthopedic appointment for wednesday afternoon and giving me the doctor’s name.


Given the choice, I might not have chosen this opportunity to learn about Singapore’s emergency medical care system, however I am glad to have had it and especially to have been cared for with such consideration by two passing strangers. For those readers who might be inclined to worry, I am doing just fine. Typing with one hand can be a bit slow and living alone with one arm immobilized has it challenges, however. These will be reminders when I next venture out on my bicycle. When passing a pedestrian, I will get off and walk.


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Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Some days are diamonds, some days are stones

This posting’s title, describing yesterday, is from one of many John Denver songs that is a favorite.


For some weeks, I have been aggressively promoting System Dynamics modeling to senior Singapore government officials with whom I am in contact. I passionately believe that this powerful approach to policy problem-solving is a natural for Singapore and that Singapore could provide a model for a governance strategy, emphasizing the long-term that will be needed if ‘sustainability” issues, threatening the survival of the human race, are to be dealt with proactively and effectively. Many elements of such a strategy are already in place. I also believe that Singapore provides a unique opportunity to have its young people become “systems citizens,” by introducing System Dynamics modeling as a requirement in secondary school curricula throughout the island. “Systems citizens” is a term coined by the System Dynamics Learning Exchange, a group comprising dedicated secondary school teachers who have introduced System Dynamics modeling in their classes, with remarkable results.


In response to earlier, promotional efforts, I was asked by officials with whom I have been dialoguing to provide examples of “how System Dynamics modeling had contributed to policy problem-solving.” To seek out the very best examples, I contacted System Dynamics Community members of long-standing who were leaders in the field. They produced a wealth of examples, making a compelling case for the approaches’ effectiveness in addressing problems of crucial importance to Singapore. I provided a concise focused summary, making the case with attachments that documented my points. In sum, I did everything years of experience have taught me about making a highly useful methodology accessible to ‘policy makers.’


Yesterday I met with those I have been seeking to influence, for lunch. While the lunch had no agenda; its purpose was social; I was hoping for some indication that my persuasive efforts might be producing some of breakthrough; some sort of paradigm shift in thinking similar to what I experienced when I first encountered System Dynamics modeling. But I received little more than polite acknowledgement. I should not have been surprised. Building credibility takes time. Achieving breakthroughs requires tenacity and patience. New ways of thinking are being injected into an ongoing culture and world view that seems to be working well and in which substantial investments have been made. Why change? My experience should have reminded me not to be disappointed with modest incremental progress, but as reflected on our conversations, enroute to my next meeting, I was.


[The day was not a total stone. At that next meeting, I received very positive encouragement for a project to create a new higher education institution in the Maldives, moving forward on a project initiated four years ago that had been lying fallow until very recently. More about that in another posting.]


The day’s last event was attending a yoga class at the local “West Side” Community Center. My interest was inspired by a “Speaking of Faith” podcast featuring Yoga Guru Sean Corn. When I made inquiries about the class, a few days earlier, I was surprised to learn that it had an upper age limit - 55 years! Those were “the rules.” I know that rules are important in Singapore. However in response to Community Center staff inquiries, the instructor said he was willing to meet with me and allow me to attend the first class.


Though the class was billed as ‘for beginners’ most participants seemed to be taking it for the second or third time. The 75 minute regimen was arduous, though I was able to stick with it albeit with a few aches and pains. Certainly, I was not the most proficient; neither was I the least. But in our conversation afterwards the instructor said he would prefer that I not continue. While he admired my “determination and strength,” he told me, I was lacking in “suppleness.” I could not disagree. That was why I had sought to enroll. He was concerned that as sessions become more intense, I might injure myself. He would then be on the dock for making an exception to the rules. He suggested I seek out a class with a “gentler regimen.” This I intend to do.

Walking home, fixing a light dinner and completing end-of-the-day chores, I reflected on the realities of the aging process. Though I am always reminding myself that the grains of sand in my hour glass are running out - that I must use each day to the fullest - I was more conscious of this than usual. At the end of this long day I did not find the realization totally empowering. “Some days diamonds, others are stones.”


The next day (this morning) I chose the Dhammapada chapter on “Old Age” to accompany my meditation session. The first verse is entitled: “Seek the light.”


What is laughter, what is joy, when the world is ever burning?”

Shrouded by darkness, would you not seek the light?


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Friday, May 07, 2010

Creating a world filled with smiles

Singaporeans seem purposeful, focused, serious and hard working. Some visitors and even some internal observers have noted the absence of outward friendliness critically. Is this ‘natural,’ I wondered. I have begun a simple experiment that has proved personally rewarding. I would not claim any larger significance.


The idea came from a podcast interview between, Scientist and Buddhist monk, Dr. Matthieu Ricard and ‘Speaking of Faith’ radio host Krista Tippett. Based on mind-brain studies of meditative practitioners, growing out of the Dalai Lama’s “Mind and Life” initiative, he was described by one neuropsychiatrist as “The Happiest Man in the World.” Not surprisingly, he disclaims this honor.


In response to Ricard’s observations about being kind to all, an idea that is central in the Buddha’s teachings, Krista posed two dilemmas. First, she asked, isn’t it difficult to be kind to everyone, when it seems so much more important to be kind to those close to you - children, family and close friends. Second, she asked, what do you think about being kind to people who are mean to you or people who seem to be the sources of evil in the world.


Ricard responded by drawing an analogy between individual kindness and the sun.

The sun, he observed, sheds its warmth equally on all, irrespective of whether they are good or bad people, saints or dictators. Kindness need not depend on how it is received, or by whom.


Easy to say but not so easy to do. My experiment has been to smile and simply say “good morning,” “good afternoon” or “good evening” in every one-on-one or one on-a-few circumstances where it seems appropriate. If there is an opportunity for a complement, such as complementing a gardner on the beauty of the flowers he is watering, I offer it. People I greet include colleagues, bus drivers, maintenance workers, store clerks, passers by when I am walking my bicycle; pretty much everyone. As I do this, I have been observing my own behavior and reactions. When an individual looks cheerful or is smiling themselves, the practice is easy. When they look grouchy or preoccupied I experience resistance and, Ricard’s metaphor not withstanding, I am sometimes unable to overcome it. But occasionally, when I overcome that resistance, I am rewarded by a grouchy face that becomes wreathed in a smiles.


This reminds me of something I began to understand years ago - actually I first experienced it when living and working in Iran as a consultant to the Shah’s government. To a significant degree, we human beings create the world around us in an image of the way we are. If we are mean, dour and sullen, people around us will be the same. If we are constantly enraged, our world is likely to be populated with many other angry people. If we are grasping, manipulative and dishonest, we will find a

lot of evidence that other humans are the same.


And we can also create a world that is filled with smiles.

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Making knowledge available for good purposes: an important task and a complex one

As a beginning doctoral student, I had the good fortune to work on a project that studied the role of US Land Grant universities in “sister institutions” projects. The “University Contract Program,” which began in 1949, was intended to reproduce the “Land Grant model” of higher education, focusing on agricultural development, in impoverished countries throughout the world. The project was described in a US government report on which I collaborated, Building Institutions to Serve Agriculture and in my first book, Partners in Development.


This was my first exposure to ‘the Land Grant model,’ a uniquely American contribution to the philosophy of higher education. Enabling legislation, “The Morrill Act,” passed in the late 19th century, provided “grants” of land to endow individual state-sponsored universities, particularly in the American Midwest, South and Southwest. The University of Minnesota, where I wrote my dissertation, then enrolling more than 50,000 students, was such an institution as were the University of Michigan, Michigan State University, the University of Wisconsin, the University of Indiana, Cornell University (the only ‘Ivy League’ Land Grant institution) and many more.


What made Land Grant universities distinctive was an idea that was, at the time (in the late 1880s), revolutionary. Their mission was not only to educate the young and to generate new knowledge through research. A co-equal mission was serving the communities in which they were located by making the results of research widely accessible in forms that community members could understand and put to good use. Because Land Grant Universities were mostly located in agricultural states, particular emphasis was placed on helping farmers and agricultural businesses.


The result was America’s unique system of “Agricultural extension” that encompassed “academic disciplines” such as economics, physics, and biology, “applied disciplines” such as engineering, agricultural economics, agronomy and soil science,” agricultural research laboratories (an international example is the Philippines Rice Research Institute) and units that produced Agricultural Extension Bulletins and other community oriented publications. These were resources for County Agents who worked one-on-one with farmers to help them improve productivity and administered community programs such as the popular 4-H (Head, Hands, Heart and Health) Program for young people in which my children participated when they were growing up.


My studies of the Land Grant Idea inculcated two lessons that have remained with me throughout a forty-plus year career as professor, researcher and activist. First is that the task of making knowledge accessible in a form that can be put to good use is complex and challenging. It is a ‘discipline’ in itself. Many professional academics fail to understand this, are discouraged by mentors and university administrators from becoming “popularizers” or, perhaps, simply don’t care. Perhaps the second should be called a belief - or value - rather than a lesson. It is that the task of putting knowledge to good use, by making it accessible is at least as important as generating new knowledge and that it should be part higher education institutions‘ missions.


Here are illustrations of the extension function from my own knowledge and experience. In the 1970s, the Club of Rome was an expression of founder Aurelio Peccei’s passion for bringing the best of available knowledge to bear on “the Predicament of Mankind.” Now this is seen as the issue of ‘sustainability,‘ broadly defined. The Limits to Growth book that Peccei’s passion catalyzed was based on a computer model - not generally viewed as an accessible topic. This widely read, publicized and translated book played a major role in raising consciousness about sustainability issues.


The late Donella Meadows resigned a tenured full professorship at Dartmouth College out of her commitment to making knowledge accessible. Her ‘Global Citizen‘ columns (available on line at www://sustainer.org) are models of accessible communication. The MacArthur Foundation’s recognition of Dr. Meadows contributions with a “Genius Grant” is one testimony to their importance.


Bill McKibben has taken his ideas and knowledge of global warming and manifested them, with the help of 7 Middlebury College undergraduates, as the 360 movement, which produced the largest global-scale conscious raising event ever held. Krista Tippett’s US National Public Radio Program, “Speaking of Faith,” a program about spirituality, ethics, meaning and ideas,” reaches an audience of more than 2,000,000 via radio and podcast. Now some higher education institutions are beginning to reach out to wider audiences through iTunes university and other social networking sites.


So The Land Grant Idea of serving communities with accessible, useful knowledge is alive and well. There are many promising models, especially taking advantage of the new opportunities that multimedia technologies provide. But more needs to be done, and especially in higher education institutions. Neither the complexity of the task, nor its importance should be underestimated.


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Sunday, May 02, 2010

Malaysia's counterproductive policies towards its rail fares from Singapore.

Once Singapore and Malaysia were part of the same federation, but in 1965, Malaysia forced Singapore to become independent. According to Singapore’s first Prime Minister, Lee Kuan Yew, differing attitudes towards the politics of communalism led to the split. The leaders of Malaysia’s dominant political party (then and now), the United Malay National Organization (UMNO), sought to institutionalize a political order in which the Malay race would be dominant.

They have done so. With Singapore and its large Chinese majority as part of the federation, this was threatened. But this posting is not about Singapore’s independence or the UNMO’s communal policies. It is about rail fares.


When Singapore gained independence, Malaysia’s currency, the Ringgit, and Singapore’s dollar were convertible at the rate of one to one. However Singapore has been more successful in maintaining fiscal discipline. The value of the Ringgit has gradually depreciated, though for a developing nation it has been relatively stable. Now the exchange rate is 100 Ringgits to 42.80 Singapore dollars.


... Except within the confines of - to quote an internet travel guide - “the faded colonial grandeur of Singapore’s art deco mainline station.” There, the exchange rate is still one to one. As part of the separation agreement, the station and rail service are still operated by the Malaysian National Railway. If one buys a first class ticket to Kuala Lumpur at the station, or over the internet from Singapore, the cost is S$68.00, instead of less than $30.00. To buy a ticket denominated in Ringit or at international exchange rates, one must travel by Singapore Metropolitan Rapid Transit and bus across the causeway to Johor Bahru.


This policy might make sense if the Malaysian National Railway had a monopoly on travel to Kuala Lumpur, but it does not. While there are only three trains each day, there are frequent flights and hourly bus departures - including luxury busses - throughout the day and evening. By bus, travel times are shorter and fares are lower though the trip is less picturesque. While I don’t know for sure, I must assume that keeping the station open for only three relatively uncrowded trains each day, must be a money losing operation. My 11 mile evening bicycle trip from the Lee Kuan Yew School to the National University of Singapore’s Kent Vale housing complex where I live parallels the single rail track for a short stretch of about two miles. It is a tranquil, lonely scene. There is not even a protective fence. There doesn’t need to be. With a more rational policy and better service there could be a vibrant, profitable high-speed rail link between Singapore, Kuala Lumpur and other points north. Were the Singapore government managing the operation, one may be sure there would be.


I love everything about train travel, even on Sri Lankan trains, which are maintained at a far lower standard than Malaysia’s. Once, I made a special trip to Singapore, partly to experience Singapore Airlines but also to travel by train to Kuala Lumpur. Years ago, I had seen the Singapore rail station and it captivated my imagination. I loved the trip, even though the air conditioning in my car failed and by the end of the trip, it was stiflingly hot.


In three weeks time I will be traveling to Kuala Lumpur. Probably I should take the train, inflated ticket price and all. I could view it as accumulating good karma by making a charitable contribution to Malaysia’ government and to keep the rail service functioning. But despite my love of rail travel, I cannot bring myself to cast a “vote” for a policy that seems so irrational and economically counterproductive. My rail experience from KL to Singapore will only be one way. Traveling north, I’ll take the bus.

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