World Urban Forum, and why I’m not there…

Vancouver is currently hosting the World Urban Forum. This will put Vancouver on the map. All these exalted individuals will love Vancouver, they will love the scenery, the people they meet, they will all want to come back – with their friends, colleagues, and families, and they will do what people at conferences do. Pass out business cards, make contacts, act like fools at the hotel bar, wish they were home, and make money by being here.

I’m not taking part, even though I could have had ‘free passage’ to virtually all the events, seminars, colloquia, meetings, discussions, and (I suspect) admission to one or more of the hotel bars.

Heresy is not a position easily taken, but my suspicion is that the delegates from Ghana are not going to get much out of this meeting that will serve their fellow citizens all that well. Endless yammering about the precious ideas of North American urban advocates, things like ‘New Urbanism,’ or the social implications of gated communities are not going to translate well for people living in Accra (the Ghanaian capital) or even further removed, those citizens living in Tamale, way up north. With just over 22 million people, some 30% of whom are living in poverty, and an unemployment rate in excess of 20%, I’m not sure that Celebration, Florida is really part of the conversation.

And, yes, I know that the theme of this iteration of the World Urban Forum is, you guessed it, poverty. And my suspicion is that the Ghanaian representatives are staying in decidedly down-scale digs, probably university housing. Just a hunch. But these conferences are about ‘power players,’ so the Ghanaians will probably go home with no real answers, no real solutions to the problems that plague their urban dwellers.

The answers for virtually all urban problems can, at best, be presented schematically. Different geographies, different cultures, different legal, political, and social realities suggest that the solutions must be local. Jane Jacobs’ ideas may be great, Howard Kunstler could be on the right track, but they and all like them are appropriate for a particular place; and their ideas may not actually be what would best serve everyone in that place. Virtually anyone theorizing, writing, working in the North American context (and being published,’ listened to,’ in general terms ‘attended to’) is writing and working for a middle-class audience – and offering up solutions palatable to a middle class audience.

Do we really want to solve the problems of urban poverty? The problems of urban blight (a slippery notion at the best of times), of overcrowding, of reduced services, of reduced hopes and expectations?

Do we really want to attend to the immense problems created not only by absolute poverty, but by relative poverty as well? If we provide 25 square metres of housing (about 269 sq. feet) for a family of four, as some Hong Kong housing developments provide, do we condone the 185 sq/m (2000 sq/ft) condo for one or two people?

If we tax the rich, alway a popular suggestion, they send their money elsewhere. Like Canada’s last Prime Minister, whose corporations had their head offices off-shore. The benefit to the Prime Minister was that his companies were not paying Canadian taxes. So he could collect wages off the backs of people without enough money or guile to follow his example. Just look at all the professional sports stars whose country of residence is Monaco, or its tax haven ilk.

The poor, by definition, have nothing to tax.

So the work of relieving world urban poverty falls to the middle classes, both at home, and abroad. But those members of the ‘middle class’ who live in largely poverty stricken countries try to hide as much of their money as possible, not seeing any reason whatsoever that they should contribute to the country’s social and economic restructuring. And the middle-classes in richer countries object strenuously to the idea that their tax dollars should prop up foreign aid. The proof of this statement is in the financial records of donor nations.

So the aid money works, as often as not, to send people to conferences held in developed countries, with fancy hotels, with well-paved streets, and a reasonably large and nominally well-functioning middle-class. If we can’t tie foreign aid to arms sales, we can suck some of it back by hosting conferences. And, even if we have the conference in a ‘less developed country,’ (what used to be termed ‘third world,’ even if the original political origins of first, second, and third world have been forgotten), middle-class shareholders do alright because the event will, perforce, be held in a Hilton or its local equivalent, thus sending the profit back to the original funding class.

And, while it is easy to take pot-shots at developed countries, the less developed play a role as well. On my recent trip to Malaysia I met a fellow traveller on a 747, high above the Pacific. A member of a church group from South Africa, he and another fellow had been to a congregational gathering in Los Angeles. And they stayed in a mid-range hotel. And while I’m sure they picked up some hints on saving souls in South Africa, the money spent on flying two guys literally around the world, could probably have saved more than a couple temporal soles…

I think we have problems that are of a completely different kind than those we have had in the past. We have returned to, or at least seem headed there very fast, an income distribution model that resembles feudal Europe, or China of the 15th century. An income distribution that gives some nearly unprecedented wealth, in amounts that are nearly impossible to spend in any ‘rational’ way, but that deprive vast numbers of the population of anything that might be considered a reasonable income.

In addition to the income disparity, what seems at present an intractable situation, is the absolute growth of populations. With approximately 3.2 billion people living in urban environments humans now have over half the Earth’s population living in cities, some in vastly better conditions than others. And the people that have migrated to cities, all over the planet, are there not because they have any particular love of cities per se, but because there is a greater opportunity to make some kind of income than there was where they lived previously. And that is why people have moved to cities for thousands of years.

And while the delegates at the World Urban Forum will blather on about urban poverty, the expansion of slums, favelas, and barrios or their local-language equivalents, no one dare suggest that there are, plain and simply, too many people. And most of them want, as soon as they know of its existence, the same stuff I have. And they deserve it every bit as much as I do.

My ‘house,’ the building I live in, provides what most Canadians would deem miniscule living space. And there are, about, 100 units of housing in my building. And I’m going to pull a number ‘out of a hat’ regarding the amount of concrete in my building – just a guess – at about 100 tons of concrete. And every ton of concrete produced, releases 4 tons of CO2, so my building (at a guess) is responsible for 400 tons of greenhouse CO2. And then there are some billion people that need housing, perhaps in concrete, so maybe 400 billion tons of additional greenhouse gases. And what’s the answer to that?

And that’s why I’m not there. I don’t think the answers to Vancouver’s problems are going to be found in Dhaka, Tel Aviv, or Sibu. I’m even less sure that the problems that beset cities of 15 and 20 million are going to be found in Vancouver, regardless of who populates the place. It’s not that I think I don’t have the answers, it’s that I don’t think there are answers.

After I wrote this column the BBC carried an interesting article on one of the participants of World Urban Forum.

“Jockin Arputham criticised the forum’s location and delegates who he said were more keen on writing reports than ending poverty.

Thousands of experts, politicians and activists are meeting to discuss the world’s growing urban problems.

“We are very, very critical about this kind of conference,” said Mr Arputham, president of India’s National Slum Dwellers Federation.

“The amount of time and money spent on this World Urban Forum – how many consultants have been employed for carrying out this kind of conference?”
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/americas/5100660.stm

Published: 2006/06/20 22:58:41 GMT

Miscellaneous rambling, ranting, rumination

Sunday night, and time to labour a tiny bit. This post will cover a number of tiny details; I'm sure there will be something about Kuching, there may be something about Sibu (no, not Cebu, that place is in the Philippines), something about work, and a variety of other assorted nuggets of wisdom. 

As many of you will have gathered, I have recently returned from Sarawak – one of the states that make up the Malaysian Federation. The vast majority of my time was spent, quite happily, in Kuching. It is a bustling regional hub, the seat of State government, and the largest urban population in Sarawak. Sibu, located up-stream on the Rejang River, is somewhat smaller and displays a different personality than Kuching, sometimes a stunningly different personality.

Kuching. I always feel an obligation to my 'hosts,' whether that is one individual person, a family, a neighbourhood, or a country. That sense of obligation forces me to consider the effects that my writing may have on those people. Who am I to suggest that 'they' don't know what they are doing? Who am I to suggest that I, a middle-aged, economically disadvantaged, white guy, has some knowledge that would make their lives far better, and only I have the vision, apptitude, attitude, and opportunity to impart this pearl of wisdom?

What I do have is an interest in my host's condition. I am interested in the forces that shape the lives of my hosts, the social, economic, cultural, political forces and images that define how their world is different than mine.

While I was in Sarawak this trip I kept a notebook, when it is entirely transcribed, it will be a document approximately 75 or 80 pages long. And that transcription is taking a while. But the notes account my curiousity. They reveal the hours spent considering the role of Bing!, a fantastic coffee bar in Kuching, well worth visiting if you have the opportunity. 

Is Bing! really a harbinger of globalization? And, if we decide that Bing! is in fact part of the globalization of Kuching, is that a 'bad' thing? I spent a lot of time, in Bing! as well as elsewhere, researching that question. I took with me the remnants of middle-class, leftish small-l liberal, considerations of globalization. You know – all that concern about the Coca-cola-ization of the world, and all that that entails. 

I sat there, as I sit here, and worried myself into a lather. My notes, and they go on for page, after page, after page, question the meaning of Bing!. Is it a cultural and economic surrender to tourist dollars?  What about the patrons; who are they, where are they from, what do they represent? What about the staff?

There is an argument in economics that suggests 'a rising tide floats all boats.' But my notes question whether that 'rising tide' acts differentially; does it float some boats higher, and faster, than other boats? Can the staff at Bing! afford the product? Because, according to one economic model, only if they can afford the product they make, are they included in the economy of which they are an integral part.

Henry Ford was not an enlightened prince as an employer. He did not give his employees more money than his competitors paid similar employees because he had visions of economic paradise in his head. Ford paid his employees more to keep them, for starters, because he used a production system that was anathema to most. He also paid more because he realized that by increasing his employees wages, they could (eventually) become customers as well.

Can the customers of Bing! share that dream of economic inclusivity? I don't know. I never thought it prudent, or polite, to enquire after their income. But I doubt it. Unless Kuching operates in a universe parallel to the one I live in, service-economy wages never allow full inclusion into the economy that service providers toil in. I suppose one could argue that if they were included, if their own wages were high enough to admit them as customers, then the labour version of perpetual motion would have been acheived. And that only really happens to CEOs and their lick-spittle cronies.

And globalization in all of this? Well, the owners (a spousal team), are global citizens. They have lived, and worked, in S.E. Asia, and N. America, at the very least. They have global tastes, which they have decided to give expression to in Kuching.

And the replication of those experience that inform the creation of Bing! includes the re-creation of non-physical, non-economic, non-consumable elements. Not only must the physical environment re-present their experience, not only must the product be part of the experience, but their staff must re-produce the experience. And that staff reproduction is difficult.

The staff must be encouraged to think, and act, differently than their cultural background may encourage or sustain. The ability to give good service is immensely more complex than being servile. Good service staff are smart. Good service staff are allowed, actually encouraged, to think for themselves – because only by thinking for themselves will they be able to think for the customer. And, for the very best of service personnel, customers are clients. 

The semantic shift from 'customer,' to 'client,' represents the shift from, essentially, the grossest of wage labour, to a professional outlook. That shift in outlook allows the service provider to take responsibility for the client's needs, desires, outlook, and outcome. Anyone can drop a cup of coffee on your table, shoddily, with no interest in what they are doing, or in what you are doing. 

A professional, even a professional coffee server, goes beyond just dropping the coffee off at the table. They are actively engaged in delivering 'your' coffee. They are paying attention to your needs, wants, and expectations. They bring the coffee condiments – cream, sugar, sweetener, spoon, saucer if locally appropriate (and locally appropriate is extremely important here, globalization or not) – and replace what need replenishment, and remove the detritus. And all this is done with a minimum of fuss, professionalism demands that.

When I asked one of the owner's "what do you do when your employees become valuable to the Hilton, or Holiday Inn?" the response was very interesting. There was no indication that wages or salaries would be increased, but there was an immediate, and cheerful comment: 'I tell them to go work for the best, where the demands are high, because they can respond to those demands.' And it wasn't just the Hilton or Holiday Inn that were included, surprisingly, so was government.

A business owner, anywhere, that is prepared to lose good staff to the government, is a rarity. But the rational went something like this. 'If they are good, if they are prepared to work, to think, to plan ahead, to take a risk once in a while, they will take those skills with them, to enhance the jobs that open to them.' And, they get glowing letters of recommendation, apparently.  

So, in this instance, globalization of the local cafe scene might actually lead to better governence. Sounds like a pretty good deal.

And my role? To be the best customer I could be. When there was a tiny gaffe, I brought it to someone's attention. Politely. When work was well done, I was gracious in my praise. And, when one day a 'tip jar' appeared, I tipped. When in Rome…

Sibu strikes me as a rash, brash, youthful sort of place. One of those cities on the cusp of respectability, but with the occassional bitter flash of adolescence, to remind us that we are not quite ready to sit at the big table with the adults. At least not all the time.

Two years ago I went to Sibu, twice actually, and had a great time. The people seemed much friendlier than in Kuching, more welcoming of an 'ang moh' (literally 'red hair,' but a mild perjorative in fact; though often used as one might reference a slightly odd uncle) in their midst. It was a pleasant experience, and one I wanted to repeat.

Well, not this time.

The youthfull, brash, exuberance was still there. The streets had more cars, more scooters, more people than during my last visit. With the exception of the 'express boats,' (sidelined in part by expansion of both road networks and automobile ownership) the port facilities were bustling, cargoes of all sorts being loaded and unloaded on a variety of vessels that would make the Port of Vancouver jealous.  

But my reception was 'mixed,' one might say. There were about four people who seemed perfectly delighted to see some tourist wandering about the city, but four in a city is awfully small potatoes. I can't say anyone was actually, outright, rude. But outright rude is rare anywhere. More telling is the service. Cafe, after cafe, after cafe the coffee was slow. Or non-existant. Lime juice (often actually flavoured syrup, with a lime dropped in at the last minute, with tons of ice) seemed unknown more than once. Odd. So I left. And I won't go back.

Work is always a vague presence in my life. I like it vague, I don't mind working, but I hate work. I hate the idea of showing up, every day, knowing that whatever I did yesterday really won't make much difference today. And, that if I didn't show up, someone else would be doing the same fool job.

So, I either take jobs that I know are temporary, or I make them temporary. I quit. In years gone past I agonized over quitting, usually after the agonies of depression had set in (and they always did) and my performance was either suffering, or about to suffer. And I hate doing a poor job. I just hate it.

I left Vancouver on the first of May, 2006, having done as good a job at what I was doing as was possible. That job performance included training, at least in part, someone to do the job. You can probalby guess where this is going.

When I got back to Vancouver, after my Malaysia trip, my boss wanted to talk to me, about an array of things. Seems my trainee has a delicate constitution, and might take it as a slight if he were to lose some of his shifts to me, on my return. So the boss suggests that I do two days in another area, one day in my original area, and all will be well. Sure.

So I though about it.

And, on sober second thought, I quit. I couldn't see working with someone who I allow to stress me out on the job. I couldn't say that I felt particularly appreciated in either of the two positions. I felt as though I was being used. And, finally, my income would drop below the figure that people in British Columbia make if the qualify for 'disability' welfare.

So, tomorrow, I start a new job. Fixing 'stuff,' mostly physical building maintenence as I understand it, but possibly some electrical work. Possibly some carpentry, though I generally loathe carpentry. Repair of metal bits and pieces – doors, lock-sets, closers, and heaven knows what else. And, over a six month period it should average 2 1/2 or 3 days a week. Hope it works out. For a year at least.

Other nuggets: I'm afraid it has taken longer to write the above than I might have thought at first, so I'm starting to nod off here, not much more to go.

I finally got a meal at the Water Street Cafe, here in Vancouver's Gastown area, after years of mumbling about it. The details are relatively unimportant, the who, when, whatever, are not relevant. But the trip was worth it.

Not speaking for anyone else's food, but mine was excellent. The bruscetta (sp?) was the best I've ever had – a seemingly simple little appetizer usually, but a key to the enjoyment of the meal. If they can't get the appetizer right, why hang around to find they can't get the rest of meal right either? The pasta main was excellent, my only complaint an odd one, there was too much of it. So I left half of it behind. 

All told, damn good company, damn good food.

With that, it is time to leave. A piece of e-mail has arrived a short time ago from Tony Hoar ( http://www.tonystrailers.com/  if you're interested in bicycle trailers at all) and I really must go answer it. 

22:35

edit 22:45