Confessions of an Economic Hit Man

by John Perkins

A hopeless Economics student back in school days, I was the last person to expect myself to read "Confessions of an Economic Hit Man". But since it was recommended by Frederick (who aspires, not very secretly, to be a corporate bastard), I thought it safer to protect myself against ruthless capitalists like him by upping my knowledge of the economic world.

John Perkins, in this autobiographical account, has revealed to me things I never thought I would know: the pervasive "corporatocracy" which I have hitherto lived comfortably by has been revealed to be relentless, remorseless and ruthless slave drivers. Aiming to driving developing countries into perpetual debt, conglomerate consulting/engineering firms bait poor countries into huge loans by exaggerating benefits from industrial development. As these countries are obliged to use the loan to hire the services of American companies, money effectively does not leave the US market. Only benefiting the richer few, these victimized countries are soon awashed with debts, which allows Washington to demand political or military loyalty.

Weaned on a society where GDP growth and material comfort are touted the key performance indicators of an effective government and society, I came to the sudden realization what cruel implications of my apathetic acceptance of the system may have. Am I gracing double-faced firms that try to lure me into a life of luxury while simultaneously, very consciously, shackling some other peoples into eternal oblivion? Am I then, to be complicit in this global miasma?

Much debate has been launched over this book, with both camps vehemently defending their stand. What significance this book has, in my opinion, is however not truth, but the bringing about of awareness. With it's intimate and forthright narration (albeit one that can get rather repetitious), Perkins successfully engages concern of his readers and exhorts them to taking more responsibility for their fellow humans.

Angela Hewitt: The Well-Tempered Klavier Book II

It is always exciting to watch a world famous musician perform live, and this time it was solo Canadian pianist Angela Hewitt, named Best Artist of 2006 by Gramaphone Magazine. On Sunday 27th April, I headed expectantly to Victoria Concert Hall with several of my MEP classmates, excited to hear her rendition of Bach's renowned Well-Tempered Klavier Book II

Much to my disappointment we arrived late, and by the time we entered, Hewitt was already on to the D Major. I was immediately entranced by her gentle rendition of my favourite piece in the collection and impressed by how subtly she brought out the intertwined lines in the fugue. But as she progressed through the first half of the programme, I was vaguely unsettled by the monotony of mood. Perhaps it was reverence for the hailed, and add to that the fact that I'm not a pianist, I did not dare to form any judgement against her.

During the interval, however, I was gently surprised to learn that many of my friends who went along were not impressed by her playing at all. Among their complaints were over usage of the suspension pedal (which according to Kwan Rui she warned against in her masterclass the previous day) , excessive tempo rubato, the deliberate obscuring of running lines etc. Reflecting on their comments, I found myself agreeing to some of their opinions. Indeed my impression of Bach's Prelude and Fugues had been one of gusto and punctuation, whereas Hewitt has decided on that night to imbue in almost every one of them an excessively, tediously phrased femininity.

"Many people still think that that's how you have to play his [Bach] music--stiff and unbending. If I can change that misconception on this tour, then I will be very happy!" - Angela Hewitt (http://www.angelahewitt.com/)

Evidently Hewitt set out to knock down some preconceptions on Bach's music, but though I think I had heard too from somewhere else that the Baroque stereotype of strict tempo and abstinence from pedaling is misguided, I found that her deliberate obscuring (for I do not doubt her technicality) of running lines while emphasizing salient phrases, and dramatic ritenuento at cadential points, though appealing to the layman, tended to rob the compositions of their polyphonic brilliance and also killed much of their kinetic drive.

I believe there could have been better renditions and perhaps less heavy repertoires, but paying $9 to watch Angela Hewitt was really a catch. Despite it being important to keep one's musical integrity, I frequently find myself deliberately overlooking differences in musical opinion so that I may just sit down for an evening and enjoy myself.

I was challenged with two exceptionally tough and brilliant logic problems today and thought I should share them. Don't be discouraged if you can't get the answers!

1. There was once a farm where 50 farmers lived and each of them owned a dog. The farmers and dogs were housed in a manner such that each farmer could see the dog of every single other farmer except for his own. One night, several of the dogs went mad and attacked the other livestocks that lived on the farm. On the following day (which we shall call Day 1), the 50 farmers realized that the mad dogs could be distinguished by their bloodied faces and bodies. The killings went on every night (during which the farmers do NOT wake up) until the morning of Day 11, when all the farmers who were certain that their own dogs were mad, simultaneously shot their own mad dogs. Given the fact that these farmers had no way of communicating with each other, and remembering that they cannot see their own dogs, how did they manage to figure out if their own dogs were mad, and how many dog were indeed mad?

2. A detention barrack once housed 500 detainees, all locked in separate cells such that it was impossible to observe the actions of one another. In addition to these cells, there was one unoccupied room, that has always been left unlit, with only a door (from which one can enter and exit) and a switch that was connected to a bulb in the room (which could be switched on or off). One day, the warrant of the detention barrack decided to gather these 500 detainees and struck a deal with them. He said, "I will choose one person at a time from your numbers at random to enter the [aforementioned unoccupied] room and repeat this procedure indefinitely. A person might be only called upon once, or maybe several times, consecutively or otherwise. If one of you can eventually tell me for certain that every one of the 500 of you has already entered the room, I will release all of you. Now you shall be given some time to discuss a stratagem amongst yourselves, after which all of you will return to your respective cells [where communication is impossible] and we shall begin." Without capabilities to leave any physical mark in the aforementioned room whatsoever, the detainees, however, eventually managed to secure their release. What was the stratagem they used?

I know they are long and convoluted, but I had to make the premises are set without ambiguity. I hope you enjoy solving them!

In a bid to be more gastronomically aware, I've actively sought to try out famed eateries on this culinary island of ours. On Saturday (19th April), Alan, Jonk, Nash and I broke out of our usual visits to town, barely veering from ending up in Marina Square, and visited the much talked about Botak Jones @ 412 Bedok North Ave 2. With a bill chequing in a little above $40, we gorged ourselves in a scrumptious meal flooded with chips (seriously, we had to take-away). Any worry of mine that we'll be sweating buckets was also mitigated by the breezy evening and emptying coffeeshop.

Barely 2 days after, my family and I visited Choon Seng Hng Restaurant @ Upp Bukit Timah Rd where we indulged ourselves in a refreshingly delectable salted-egg crab - even a non-crab lover like me consented to biting on one of the pincers. The service, unfortunately, wasn't up to standard - the waiters frequently lacked initiative and congeniality. However, it's obscure location did provide a pleasant escape from crowded eateries.

On another note, I read this amusing article on the International Herald Tribune: An Orchestra Wearing Earplugs? It's funny and poignant to imagine how the much regaled classical music, hitherto left to its natural decay, should be so unceremoniously discounted by laws prescribing work safety levels. This, however, will not be the end of its effects as this law encroaches on other forms of music - particularly the blaring anxiety of metal. What concerns me more, however, are its implications on the still teething genres on electro-acoustic music.

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I must shamefully admit that I fell asleep when I attended my first electro-acoustic concert in Birmingham - and how I regret that! When I heard that NAFA is presenting a similar concert, I did not have high hopes. But having recently been inspired to delve into the discipline of sound art, I attended anyway. Here's the poster:

For a concert of an hour in length, put together by amateurs, the it was actually not too bad. Well, at least I stayed the entire duration. There were pleasant moments tucked here and there, but on the whole, the compositions where rather uninspiring. They all followed a similar audio pattern (a symmetrical building and then releasing of tension) and have a predilection towards the loud and jarring. Much more could also have been done to explore the timbre and panning; too literal interpretations were also taken of themes that were much too sombre and - for lack of a kinder word - hackneyed. But for all it's shortcomings, I really like the set-up of the concert and how the spotlights focus on the individual performers as they present their works.

What was truly pleasant about the concert, however, was the fact that it came to pass and the audience strength was surprisingly high. Electro-acoustic being such a cutting edge art form is still in it's nascent stages in many countries and has hitherto only caught the attention of a niche community. If this is a harbinger of a more prolific future for electro-acoustic music, I am glad to have been involved in the appreciation of it.

With so much music in the air, a few of my friends and I also decided to play a game of musical exquisite corpse (inspired by Lucky 7, which was frustratingly rated R21). With it's birth in Starbucks @ The Cathy in a tattered paper bag, I, Ivana, Grace and Gareth shall begin our little game, each of us having 2 weeks to complete our individual parts of 5 minutes. Down this windy road, the near future promises fun, but holds too so much tantalizing mystery!

The Giver

It was most uncanny that I should have read this International Herald Tribune article about author Lois Lowry (http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/04/15/arts/lowry.php) only to discover when I got home that she was the author of the book that Ivana recommended me to read!

The Giver. This story follows Jonas who lived in a dysto-utopian society where the ignorant bliss in which all it's people lived depended solely on the efforts of the Receiver of Memory. At age 12, Jonas was appointed to be the succeeding Receiver, after which his life was turned head over heels as he made discoveries he never knew he could.

I must agree with Mehegan that Lowry definitely "doesn't talk down" to her readers. It is not the frank discussion of the myriad human emotions that make this story, but it's unabashed acknowledgment on how growing teenagers are, frequently, deliberate kept from them. Although the intention may be noble, as in "The Giver", the implication of it is cruel.

Because it lacks the layered nuances we find major literature, it is easy to dismiss this short story as a callow attempt at analyzing the human condition; but for a 3hr leisurely read, it was enrapturing. I was genuinely touched by the eponymous character and his apprentice's unpretentious affection for the host of emotions and experiences that human life has developed. In today's increasingly commercialized world where many lament the loss of humanity, this story serves as a gentle reminder to perhaps "stop and stare" and appreciate our existence for all its pains and pleasures.

So if you have the time to spare, just pick of this novella and enjoy.

The past few days have been most trying, shuttling about between work, RJ and home. My composition work with RJ S24 was made more exhausting having to deal with indecisive and uncoordinated people. I finally completed my share of work yesterday and will be awaiting their comments or requests for amendments (if they are ever going to contact me). I'm glad to have been given the chance to discover the wonders of using the synthesizer keyboard, on which I was very reliant.

Well, though celebrating the 444th anniversary of Shakespeare is not exactly very auspicious, come down and support the production if you can! It's on 23rd/24th April, 7pm @ RJC Performing Arts Centre (PAC). Tickets are priced at $8! Please contact Ju Ju at 9155-3202 for further enquiries.

At the same time, I met Mr Rollason during one of my visits to RJ and he enlisted my help to look for politically inspired music from 1945-2000. In my research, I came across a wonderful expanse of songs and instrumental pieces, the most fascinating of which was Nena's "99 Luftballons". This anti-Cold War song written in 1982 narrates how the accidental release of 99 balloons started a nuclear war.

And, boy, was I not jealous when Samantha disclosed the news to me today. Apparently, Philip Glass is visiting UMich on 18th April, with the Dalai Lama, as a guest speaker on Buddhism and Art! I'm not such a big fan of the religious part, but I sure am a fan of the composer! My! How I wish I could just courier my "Einstein on the Beach" over to get it autographed!

First Day at School

I recently stumbled upon this delightful poem by Roger McGough. Here it is:

First Day at School

A millionbillionwillion miles from home
Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in uniform
Lived all their lives in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.

And the railings.
All around, the railings.
Are they to keep out wolves and monsters?
Things that carry off and eat children?
Things you don't take sweets from?
Perhaps they're to stop us getting out
Running away from the lessins. Lessin.
What does a lessin look like?
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine.

I wish I could remember my name
Mummy said it would come in useful.
Like wellies. When there's puddles.
Yellowwellies. I wish she was here.
I think my name is sewn on somewhere
Perhaps the teacher will read it for me.
Tea-cher. The one who makes the tea.

wwwwwwwwwwwby Roger Mc Gough

This poem also inspired a most adorable and clever video. I love the narration and the visuals are simple charming. Enjoy it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUNUfI2oCbs