(Dalian, China) Between a rock and a hard place

I was reading “Parable of the Sadhu” by Bowen H McCoy. While climbing the Himalayas in Nepal, Bowen came across a sadhu, a pilgrim, who was freezing to death. Bowen provided some food and warm clothing, and pointed the sadhu towards the nearest village hoping that he would make it there alive. Bowen wanted to ensure that he could continue on his journey in the mountain instead of bringing the sadhu to the village to ensure that he got back alive. What made this example interesting was how innocuous the ethical issues surface in this incident: frequently, we walk into ethical issues without realizing it. Bowen’s students still dispute whether this is an ethical issue. While making the ethical decision is often hard enough, realizing that an ethical issue has surfaced is in itself difficult.

Thinking back to my journey out of North Korea, I realized that I had faced an ethical issue at the border (for greater detail, see here) without realizing it. On my way out, I was detained by four guards. They made everyone else get off the train, leaving me alone with them, and interrogated me on the photos I took. One of the photos was of an identification card of a North Korean I met and this infuriated the guards. They demanded to know who let me photograph it. I was frightened. The thought of being locked up in a North Korea prison was unappealing (in hindsight, I should have realized that this risk was unlikely as the North Koreans would not have done much to a foreigner). On the other hand, sharing this information could have gotten the person I met into trouble.

I was in an ethical bind. My less than adroit response, and best compromise, was to look dumbfounded and shut my mouth. It was not hard as I was terrified. I wished I could give some James Bond-like response that smoothly resolves my dilemma. Unfortunately I am no James Bond. My catatonic reflex did help though, and the guards appeared to let it pass and started questioning me about other things.

(Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam) Seen on the streets

A few days ago, I went with some friends to Philly’s Chinatown to grab dinner. While ordering, we were deciding if we should eat family-style (order a few dishes to share) or order individually. I started thinking about the merits of both approach to dining.

Ignoring issues of hygiene, eating the Chinese way (family-style) maximizes aggregate utility for all dinner participants. Utility here is the satisfaction from the meal. The marginal utility from eating is highest when we sample several dish, instead of eating a single dish by ourselves. When we share dishes, our aggregate utility is greater because we satisfy variety seeking by eating a little from each dish, consuming where the added satisfaction from each bite of the food is highest.

However, sharing brings with it problems that Western-style dining (individual dishes) avoids. Western-style dining is more equitable assuming that everyone has the same budget. In family-style dining, the person who eats the fastest benefits at the expense of his slower dining partners. He can consume a larger proportion of the food, taking a larger share of utility for himself. If there is a single dish on the table that is far superior to the other dishes, a dining partner lacking in etiquette could focus his attention purely on that dish, to the detriment of his less “specialized” dining partners. Western-style dining prevents such inequity, as we simply eat what we order.

Family-style dining in China has found a way around these problems: the banquet. The Chinese have a tradition of over-ordering food. This gets around the fast-eater advantage or the specialization-advantage as there is enough of each dish to go around.

An organization invited us to a dinner, to help us get to know their people and help them get to know us, to help us make a decision in the job search process. When I started recruiting, my former boss had one piece of advice: forget the name, the prestige, or the rankings. At the end of the day, its the people you work with that should inform the decision.

At the dinner, a senior-level employee of the organization (they tend to have more perspective) said the same thing. He said he was not going to feed us bullshit about how they are top in this or that field, but rather, simply ask that we judge them and any other firm based on their people. I agree with him. I want to work with people who are ethical, who inspire and teach me, and who are passionate about what they do. That is what matters.

On another note, one of their employee from Russia asked me what I thought of the military after learning that I served in it. I said “one of my friend was tortured to death in the army. The other was made to run while sick, collapsed, and died.”

(Cu Chi, Vietnam) I demand my rights!

After coming back to the dormitory, I realized that the male and female toilets had switched sides. This incident is a reminder that utilitarianism is not the only way to value outcomes. One also has to take into account notions of fairness. To understand how toilet allocation and philosophy are linked, you need to imagine the layout of my hall:

—————GB————– C ——————-BB—————-
————————————————————————

BB: Male Toilet
GB: Female Toilet
C: Corridor

Jetlagged after a 30 hour flight back from a time-zone of 12 hours difference, I nearly walked into the female toilet when I noticed a pink notice on the toilet door. GB is now BB and vice versa. I talked to the residential advisor (RA) and she said it was fair to have the girls’ toilet on one side for a semester and on the other side for the next semester so that girls on both sides could have the same benefits of a close/distant toilet over the course of a year.

One student proposed that since the hall to the left of the corridor had more girls, the girls’ toilet should be located on the left for both semesters. This reflects utilitarian thinking. The “maximum” benefit is reached as the largest number of girls and boys will have access to a close-by toilet for the entire year. Such thinking is more easily understood by most people. For example, the banning of homosexuality in Singapore reflects such thinking. The government claims a “conservative majority” is uncomfortable with homosexuality, and that Singapore must ban it to maximize national utility/happiness…etc. As for the minority who are homosexual, their claims are superseded by an argument of overall benefit.

However, some people do subscribe to a belief in fairness. When reversing the location of toilets, we take into account that the boys and girls who had to suffer from the inconvenience of a distant toilet the first semester should not be made to suffer for the next semester. They pay the same tuition and have the same rights as any other dormitory resident. Why should they have to “sacrifice” a semester of toilet proximity without their consent? Even though dormitory utility is not maximized after the switch (more people walk longer distance to their respective toilets), the decision is made to switch the toilet locations as this is considered a “fair” outcome. Relating this back to the issue of Singapore, we need to consider if it is fair to deprive minorities of their rights if it makes the majority better off?

As for me, the male toilet is now next door to my room. This will save me on average 5 minutes a day, leading to a total increase in productivity of 10 hours a semester!

I recently visited Vietnam, adding another country to my list of communist regimes to visit before I die. I am interested in seeing the transition to a market economy from a communist system, and Vietnam, with its North-South division, has an interesting dynamic that makes it more relevant to the Korean situation.

Communist Countries (Cuba, North Korea)
Transitional Communist Countries (China, Vietnam, Laos PDR)
Former Communist Countries (Russia, Mongolia, East Germany, Parts of East Europe… - incomplete listing)

I managed to cover Ho Chi Minh and Da Lat (the central highlands) on this trip. Unlike China or North Korea, communist-style architecture was less visible. Perhaps it was because I was in the southern part of Vietnam. People were relatively open about criticizing the communist system. When I visited the Cu Chi tunnels, my guide was a former translator for American GIs during the war. At 60 years old, he was still healthy and told us proudly how he quickly learnt to farm after being sent for re-education after the war. He told us not to believe all the propaganda from the videos at Cu Chi tunnels.

Motorcycles) are everywhere. The favorite part of my stay was actually dodging the motorcycles. Standing in the middle of the road and watching the wave of motorcycles coming after you and parting just where you stand must be how Moses felt when the sea opened up before him. Vietnamese coffee (café se dua) probably ranks with the motorcycles as one of the things I like about the place. Sitting at a café, amidst the sweltering heat and drinking that strong sweet liquid is heaven.

It is fascinating how a river through a city can be such a barrier. Crossing Saigon River, one leaves Ho Chi Minh City center with its Sheraton and Ritz Carlton hotels for a ramshackle collection of tin and wooden houses. In Bangkok, the river also acts as a similar barrier to integration. Exploring this divide in the different cities always adds an interesting element to any tourist’s itinerary.

(Narita, Japan) Waiting to leave…

Most Singaporeans I know are surprised when I tell them that there is a North Korean embassy in Singapore. I finally visited the place today, which was a surreal experience exceeding the strangeness of visiting their embassy in Beijing. Trade between North Korea and Singapore, although not voluminous, does exist.

Officially, the embassy is located at The Plaza on Beach Road. This place is a short walk from Bugis MRT station, situated next to Park Royal hotel. After finally working up the nerve to visit the place (for some irrational reasons, I think they will kill me if I step in, or use mind waves to murder me over the phone), I went down. Checking the directory, I noted the names Tonghae Shipping Group and Chinpo Shipping Group on the same floor as the embassy. Both of the names sounded Korean, and I knew that Tonghae was a port in North Korea. Tonghae Shipping Group has been under Japanese sanctions since 2006 pending accusations of its involvement in NK weapon programs. Quick searches online reveals that Chinpo is part of the Buhung Shipping Group. According to an Indian paper, a Buhung ship was seized in 1999 for transporting weapons blueprints to Pakistan.

The DPRK embassy stood next to the Tonghae Shipping Group office. I knocked on the big wooden door next to an official looking placard announcing that I was at the right place. There was no response. Suddenly, the door to Tonghae shipping group opened, and a Singaporean came out to meet me. Most of the people working in the office were Singaporeans and I never got to speak to any Koreans. Both the shipping group and the “embassy” shared the same office, although the person I talked to told me that the embassy people were not in. I glimpsed people sitting on the “embassy” side of the office although I did not know if they were diplomats. This was when things got strange: the helpful lady gave me a number and an address in Paya Lebar (Haig Lane) which she titled on a note the “Embassy of the D.P.R. of Korea.” I asked her if the embassy moved and she did not answer. She simply repeated “call this number first before you go” several times, oblivious to my question.

I called the number and spoke to a rather helpful North Korean who entertained my request, but told me that they did not hold Korean language classes in Pyongyang (I doubt his information based on what my friends in Pyongyang told me). I ended up not heading down to Paya Lebar to check out this place so I would appreciate if anyone can explain what is up with the two “embassies.”

(Turfan, China) Are we heading in this direction?

Having last visited Singapore 2 years ago, I expected the city to be radically different. However, the area where my family stays hardly changed and even Orchard Road looks the same. City Hall appears different, but it is in the prices that I observed the biggest change. What struck me in particular was not so much the increase in prices, but how uneven the price changes have been. This uneven price changes has distributional impacts on what I see as two diverging segments of society.

Singapore is increasingly populated by two groups of people: the Hawker and the Banker. In Singapore, hawkers refer to the people who work in large food centers selling food or drinks. A few strike it rich but most are typically uneducated and belong to the poorer segment of society. I know this because my father is one of them, selling drinks in one of the large outdoor food centers that populate the island. But the Hawker I use in this analysis is a larger segment of society: the Singaporeans who lack the education to be globally mobile and benefit from global wage levels. This group is larger than you think. It includes many local graduates who accept stagnant local wage structures, and compete with educated immigrants from China, India or Nepal for white-collar jobs. On the side of the divide are the Bankers, not just people in the financial industry, but people who have a world-class education (often international) that gives them opportunities to pursue jobs as consultants, investment bankers, traders…etc. These jobs pay a globally competitive wage – a premium often reaching two or three times the average wage of a local graduate.

What struck me about prices when I returned was how the food sold by hawkers around the area I lived has barely budged. I do not know if this phenomenon is island-wide, but it was surprising to see a plate of Char Kway Teow still at the $2 or $3 I paid when I left. I met my former boss, a distinguished economist, and he felt the same way about the unequal prices. Are the Hawkers competing in a different world? One where being local meant facing competition that erodes pricing power and depresses wages? I talked to my mother, a nurse, and she said that wages have not risen in line with inflation over the past two years. While these prices have remained stagnant, I noticed that it was not so in the city area. What I though of as a fancy night out at Crystal Jade La Mian Xiao Long Bao now came with fancier prices. I went to look at cufflinks at Alain Figaret as I liked to do. They are now 20 percent pricier.

Another night, I was at a dinner hosted by one of Banker-type firms. It was for students studying at overseas university. All of the Bankers hosting us were from distinguished American and British universities. A Singaporean student at the table flew with her family to exotic locations every holiday, sometimes over weekends, dined frequently at expensive restaurants in Singapore whose fancy names I never heard of, and could hardly pronounce. One of the Banker-types was born in Singapore, grew up in the US/UK, and never ate in a food center in Singapore. They earned the global wage, one most Singaporean undergraduates dream off. They lived in another world beyond the sight of most ordinary Singaporeans; one I did not know existed until I left Singapore.

The Economist (Economics Focus Dec 22, 2007) observed that rising income inequality in modern societies does not result in a large difference in material comforts. However, I worry about what this gap means for a society in terms of power inequality and shared experiences. Can the Banker understand the life of a Hawker? Can he empathize with their difficulties or being so far removed from them, he wonders why anyone would need social security, handouts or subsidized healthcare? Will inequality mean that we have two groups living in two Singapores: one where fine dining, exotic holidays, and posh cars define a Singaporean experience, another where hawker food, trips to Johor Bahru, and SBS dominates? Walking around Bugis, I glimpsed people sleeping on the sidewalks and I wonder.

As I embarked on my job search last year, I was really grateful to my friends. Many of them were willing to put me in touch with people who could answer my questions, or write really amazing letters of recommendations to their previous or current employers. This is no small task, as every time they do that, they put their reputation on their line for me.

I really appreciate their helpfulness and hope not to disappoint as the job search intensifies next semester. More important than their help in the job search process is how their recommendations show that they trust and respect me. My personal reputation is important to me, as I want to be seen as a reliable and helpful friend, a motivated and inspiring leader, and a creative problem solver. Having people who are willing to go to bat for me is satisfying because it shows that the person I want to be is aligned with the person that people see me to be.