BRISBANE AGAIN!

“Success: To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded!” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I am in Brisbane for work, today and tomorrow and it is a gruelling schedule with much happening and not much respite. At the hotel room tonight I am feeling rather tired as it was a 3:30 am start this morning and a 6:00 am flight out of Melbourne, arriving in Brisbane two hours later at 7:00 am (Brisbane is one hour behind Melbourne as they don’t have daylight saving). Now it’s getting on past 9:30 pm (well, 8:30 pm) and I have been up and about and doing things for 18 hours or so…

Today was a very important day on campus as we had an accreditation panel come through and do an inspection of the campus and interviews of staff. This was a very rigorous and full schedule from about 11:00 am until 5:00 pm. There was a great deal of preparation for this visit, not the least of which was the documentation and then the various interviews, visits to the library, classrooms, laboratories, and interviews with staff, students and alumni, as well as the executive. The good news is that we all passed muster and our courses were reaccredited. The feeling at the campus at the end of the day was heady and buoyant, and I was pleased that my team’s efforts were acknowledged and lauded.

We celebrated by going out to dinner in an Italian restaurant called “Capri” here in Brisbane’s Fortitude Valley, in a precinct known as the Emporium. It is very cosmopolitan dining and entertainment precinct with a boutique hotel (“The Emporium”) on site also. We celebrated with champagne and a good Italian meal. There was much laughter and mirth and good humour and much of the tension of the last few months (while the submission was being prepared) was released.

Tomorrow I have an important meeting with one of the tertiary institutions here in Brisbane to broker an articulation agreement between our two Colleges. The preliminary discussion shave gone very well and I am confident of having another success tomorrow.

Now, I think it may be time for an early night. Getting up early tomorrow again!

WASTED LIVES

“Education would be much more effective if its purpose was to ensure that by the time they leave school every boy and girl should know how much they do not know, and be imbued with a lifelong desire to know it.” - William Haley

Yesterday in the train coming back from work I sat in front of two young hooligans. Loud louts who shouted inanities and swore, and terrorised my fellow commuters, some of whom changed seats to distance themselves from them. I stayed put, fascinated by these uneducated dregs of humanity that spoke of gaol and brushes with police, boasted of drunken brawls and were proud of their illiteracy as they tried, but could hardly read a forgotten newspaper on the seat beside them. Their cackling laughter and vile manner, their foul mouths and knocked out teeth their scabby faces and dirty fingernails aroused pity in me for their wasted young lives…

Wasted Lives

I am not talking of the murderer
Whose heinous acts have subjugated and perverted his humanity.
I am not referring to the swindler,
Whose keen mind is twisted into self-serving deception.
I am not even speaking of the addict,
Whose weakness of the spirit wastes both mind and body.
I choose even not to mention the gambler
Whose passion leads to ruin for himself and family…

The wasted lives I sing of
Are much more mundane, more commonplace and more prevalent.
The wasted lives of countless millions
Whose petty mind remains unschooled,
Who fail to take the proffered opportunity.
Those cripples of the intellect
Who lead a life of trivial ennui,
Suspended between a bookless, thoughtless void
And the junk of popular “culture” and vacuous television.
Whose highest pursuit is a drunken revel,
Lust without love, sex without affection;
Or maybe the pointless violence of gangs
Clashing over competing football teams.

My song of wasted lives is a dirge
Of unrealised potential,
And unseized possibility,
Of nascent achievement quashed:
Like the stirrings of an embryo
Aborted before it is allowed to perfect to birth.

The wasted lives cry out
In richest countries and resplendent cities
The very cornerstones of civilisation.
These lives cry out like the howls of savage beasts
Amidst the libraries and the galleries and the museums,
The concert halls and the lecture halls, the universities.

So shall the human race die out:
Not in a nuclear holocaust,
Nor in a terrible pandemic.
Not in a warring bang,
But rather in the whimper of inertia,
Of the wasted lives of the multitudes
Who will cause humanity to peter out in degeneracy…

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday

WORLD OSTEOPOROSIS DAY

“The great secret that all old people share is that you really haven't changed in seventy or eighty years. Your body changes, but you don't change at all. And that, of course, causes great confusion.” - Doris Lessing

World Osteoporosis Day is observed on October 20th every year and provides an all-important focal point for informing and educating the general public and policy makers about the prevention of a disease, which is still ignored by many and about which there is poor general awareness. World Osteoporosis Day 2009 is the second year of a “call to action” campaign which seeks to mobilize the power of millions of concerned citizens to advocate for better osteoporosis healthcare policies in government healthcare systems, private insurance companies, and corporate healthcare networks.

Osteoporosis is a chronic disease of the skeletal system, caused by the progressive loss of bone density. Depletion of minerals, especially calcium from the bones reduces their density, making them increasingly porous, weak and brittle. This increases the risk of fracture anywhere in the body. Bones at the wrist, spine and hip are especially prone to fractures. Osteoporosis is an insidious disease that strikes silently without too many symptoms in the initial stages. Often, it takes an unexpected fracture to discover the condition. Awareness of the risk factors can decrease its incidence.

Between 12 to 20% of people die within one year following a hip fracture. It is estimated that 80% of those who are at high risk of osteoporosis, and have suffered at least one fracture, have neither been identified nor treated for the disease. Women are more at risk to present with severe osteoporosis, especially after the menopause (1 in 3 women over 50 will experience osteoporotic fractures, as will 1 in 5 men).

Many national governments do not treat osteoporosis as a major health priority and fail to provide adequate resources for its detection and treatment. Many health insurance schemes still do not cover diagnosis and treatment prior to the first fracture – even when it is cost effective to do so. World Osteoporosis Day was started in the UK in 1996 by the UK National Osteoporosis Society. It has now been taken over by the International Osteoporosis Foundation (IOF) that has as a focal point educating the general public about the disease, but also to activate so as get the policy makers and government to act and introduce policies and laws that prevent this disease in the population.

Adequate levels of calcium intake can maximise the positive effect of physical activity on bone health during the growth period of children. Calcium supplementation has been shown to have a positive effect on bone mineral density in postmenopausal women. Calcium and vitamin D supplementation reduces rates of bone loss and also fracture rates in older male and female adults, and the elderly. In institutionalised elderly women, this combined supplementation reduced hip fracture rates. Fruit and vegetable intake was positively associated with bone density in a study in men and women. The exact components of fruits and vegetables, which may confer a benefit to bone are still to be clarified. Moderate alcohol intake is not thought to be harmful to bone. However, chronic alcohol abuse is detrimental to bone health, with one of the mechanisms being a direct toxic effect on bone forming cells.

Remember that 2.2 million Australians are affected by osteoporosis. About 11% of men and 27% of women aged 60 years or more are osteoporotic, and 42% of men and 51% of women are osteopenic. The lifetime risk of osteoporotic fracture after 50 years of age: 42% in women, 27% in men. There are 20,000 hip fractures per year in Australia (increasing by 40% each decade). Total costs relating to osteoporosis are $7.4 billion per year of which $1.9 billion are direct costs.

Celebrate World Osteoporosis Day and raise public awareness of it!

MOVIE MONDAY - TRAINING DAY

“We challenge the culture of violence when we ourselves act in the certainty that violence is no longer acceptable, that it's tired and outdated no matter how many cling to it in the stubborn belief that it still works and that it's still valid.” - Gerard Vanderhaar

At the weekend, we watched a film I didn’t particularly want to see. I had heard quite a lot of hype about it and it was advertised to death when it first came out and I think it even won a couple of awards (yes, Denzel Washington got the Oscar for best male lead in it, and won a whole lot of other awards, IMDB tells me). At the end of it, I hadn’t changed my mind about it and this isn’t a film I would recommend to a friend of mine.

The film was Antoine Fuqua’s 2001 “Training Day”. Denzel Washington, Ethan Hawke, Scott Glenn, Tom Berenger, Eva Mendes and a whole lot of other actors I don’t know played in it. The film is pure Hollywood cops-and-robbers, with action, blood gore, corruption, drugs, dirty money, sleazy people, dilapidated neighbourhoods, and good guys who aren’t really any good at all. Very predictable and pandering to a public whose tastes have become jaded with each such similar film loading more and more violence and blood and gore and swearing and car chases and bad guys and guns and…

The plot is easy enough to be comprehended by even the most mentally challenged. Jake Hoyt (Hawke) in Los Angeles has applied for a position as a Narcotics officer in the Police Department. However, in order to be accepted, he must go through approximately 24 hours of training from a veteran Narcotics officer, Alonzo Harris (Washingtom). Harris has a nasty reputation for not treating victims very well, abusing suspects, handling drugs and other evidence in a questionable matter, and opening fire randomly. Harris’s modus operandi is unorthodox to say the least and Jake soon realises that he must be as devious and as unconventional as Harris in order to survive his first day.

Maybe I wasn’t in the mood for it, maybe it was my prejudice against this particular film, maybe I just wanted something light and fluffy, but whatever it was, I disliked this movie intensely. I could not warm up to any of the characters, and even Jake as the “hero” was quite dislikeable for me. Why did we watch it? It was on special offer from the video store and when I was getting it I thought I would give it a chance as a prejudice is bad counsel in most cases. Well, in this case it wasn’t the case. IMDB users give the film 7.6/10. I give it a 5/10.

Should you watch it? Well make up your own mind. If you like Hollywood cops movies with violence, sleaze, car chases and lots of people wanting to kill each other because they happen to possess a gun and want money, go ahead and watch it. This is not an intellectual film nor does it have a special message. It didn’t even have humour in it. It was just a horrible movie about horrible people doing horrible things to each other. Have you seen it? Tell me what you thought of it…

NDEBELE ART

“We have learned to fly the air like birds and swim the sea like fish, but we have not learned the simple art of living together as brothers.” - Martin Luther King, Jr

For Art Sunday today, an example of Ndebele art from South Africa. When I visited South Africa several years ago, it was my second trip there. The first time was when I was a young boy. I still remember that first trip very vividly as it was a country that was so different from anything I had experienced and so different from what I had learnt in the textbooks of primary school. The second time around was as surprising because of the crumbling apartheid and the immense social changes it had created. The Ndebele village that I visited the second time was a magical experience.

Although the origins of the South African Ndebele are shrouded in mystery, they have been identified as one of the Nguni tribes. The Nguni tribes represent nearly two thirds of South Africa’s Black population and can be divided into four distinct groups; the Central Nguni (the Zulu-speaking peoples), the Southern Nguni (the Xhosa-speaking peoples), the Swazi people from Swaziland and adjacent areas, and the Ndebele people of the Northern Province and Mpumalanga. The history of the Ndebele people can be traced back to Mafana, their first identifiable chief. Mafana’s successor, Mhlanga, had a son named Musi who, in the early 1600’s, decided to move away from his cousins (later to become the mighty Zulu nation) and to settle in the hills of Gauteng near where the capital, Pretoria is situated.

Ndebele art has always been an important identifying characteristic of the Ndebele. Apart from its aesthetic appeal it has a cultural significance that serves to reinforce the distinctive Ndebele identity. The Ndebele’s essential artistic skill has always been understood to be the ability to combine borrowed exterior sources of stimulation with traditional design concepts inherited from their ancestors. This maintains an identifiable individuality, but also keeps the designs and colours fresh and ever-new.

Ndebele artists demonstrate a fascination with the linear quality of elements in their environment and this is depicted in their artwork. Painting was done freehand, without prior layouts, although the designs were planned beforehand. The characteristic symmetry, proportion and straight edges of Ndebele decorations were done by hand without the help of rulers and squares. Ndebele women were responsible for painting the colourful and intricate patterns on the walls of their houses.

This afforded the traditionally subordinate wife with an opportunity to express her individuality and sense of self-worth. Her innovativeness in the choice of colours and designs set her apart from her peer group. In some instances, the women also created sculptures to express themselves. The back and side walls of the house were often painted in earth colours and decorated with simple geometric shapes that were shaped with the fingers and outlined in black. The most innovative and complex designs were painted, in the brightest colours, on the front walls of the house. The front wall that enclosed the courtyard in front of the house formed the gateway (izimpunjwana) and was given special care (see picture).

Windows provided a focal point for mural designs and their designs were not always symmetrical. Sometimes, make-believe windows are painted on the walls to create a focal point and also as a mechanism to relieve the geometric rigidity of the wall design. Simple borders painted in a dark colour, lined with white, accentuated less important windows in the inner courtyard and in outside walls.

The Ndebele also have considerable skill with beadwork and in jewellery making. The intricate patterns of their art also find expression in these forms of art and craft. Another popular outlet for their creativity is the creation of “fertility dolls”, miniature versions of the women who create them and whose ownership assures them of many descendants (see picture).

When I first saw Ndebele art, of course I was delighted with it. It reminded somewhat of some native American Indian patterns and the colours were also reminiscent of the pre-Columbian cultures in the Americas. It drove home the point for me that no matter where we humans are on earth, our common ancestry and humanity is stronger than any difference that some try to convince us exists amongst us.

INFIDELITY

“Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love; it is the faithless who know love's tragedies.” - Oscar Wilde

I spent most of the day gardening today, doing some heavy duty work that needed doing for a long time. The weather was perfect for it, overcast and cool, although a couple of showers did interrupt the goings-on. At the end of the day although fatigued, a sense of achievement was enough to make everything worth it…

A Greek song by Mihalis Hadjiyannis today:



Secret Kiss

Where does your mind wander, where are you flying?
To which sky’s limits?
And even when you look into my eyes,
Something steals you away from me.

Where do you travel secretly,
In which new land?
And even when in my embrace,
Something draws you there, away from me.

You’re hiding something from me again,
Some new secret,
Like the mark
On your neck…

Your secret kiss,
Every secret sigh, every caress,
Everything is there to see
On your secret mark.

What vows do you hide deep inside you,
What tortures you?
And when I ask you if you love me,
You turn away and cry…

Where does your mind wander, where are you flying?
To which sky’s limits?
And even when you look into my eyes,
Something steals you away from me.

Your secret kiss,
Every secret sigh, every caress,
Everything is there to see
On your secret mark.

A love mark on your neck
Changes your life,
But the mark I have,
Wounds my soul…

ΚΡΥΦΟ ΦΙΛΙ

Πού φεύγει ο νους σου πού πετάς,
στις άκρες ποιου ουρανού;
κι όταν στα μάτια με κοιτάς
κάτι σε κλέβει αλλού.

Πού ταξιδεύεις μυστικά,
Σε ποια καινούρια γη;
κι όταν σε παίρνω αγκαλιά
κάτι σε θέλει εκεί.

Κάτι μου κρύβεις πάλι
κάποιο μυστικό
όπως το σημάδι
που έχεις στο λαιμό.

Το κρυφό σου φιλί
κάθε ανάσα κρυφή κάθε χάδι
όλα φαίνονται εκεί
στο κρυφό σου σημάδι.

Ποιους όρκους μέσα σου φυλάς
τι σε παιδεύει πες
κι όταν ρωτάω αν μ' αγαπάς
αλλού γυρνάς και κλαις.

Πού φεύγει ο νους σου πού πετάς
στις άκρες ποιου ουρανού
κι όταν στα μάτια με κοιτάς
κάτι σε κλέβει αλλού.

Το κρυφό σου φιλί
κάθε ανάσα κρυφή κάθε χάδι
όλα φαίνονται εκεί
στο κρυφό σου σημάδι.

Ένα σημάδι στο λαιμό
σου αλλάζει τη ζωή
μα το σημάδι που έχω εγώ
χαράζει μια ψυχή.

PEACHES AND CREAM

“I prefer to regard a dessert as I would imagine the perfect woman: Subtle, a little bittersweet, not blowsy and extrovert. Delicately made up, not highly rouged. Holding back, not exposing everything and, of course, with a flavor that lasts.” - Graham Kerr

I had a busy day full of meetings today and by the end of the day I was pooped. Walking back to the train station I saw some peaches at a fruit stall. Now that was very early for peaches and the price matched their prematurity. Nevertheless, it got me thinking of the taste of peaches on a wet Melbourne Spring day. Dessert for tonight was decided there and then, with a much more reasonably priced alternative!

PEACH PARFAIT

Ingredients (for 4 people)
• 2 dessertspoons Peach schnapps
• 4 dessertspoons of apricot jam
• 4 slices left-over sponge cake
• 1 can peach halves
• 6-7 tablespoons of peach fruit yoghurt
• A handful of freshly roasted almonds, chopped
• Whipped cream flavoured with almond essence and sweetened to taste

Method
Mix the peach schnapps with the apricot jam and blend until smooth, adding a little syrup from the canned peaches. The consistency should be like that of honey. Put a slice of the sponge cake in each of the four dessert bowls. Pour an equal amount of the jam mixture over the sponge cake to moisten it. Drain the peach halves and cut them into quarters. Arrange the peaches over the jam-coated sponge slices. Spoon some peach yoghurt over the dessert, enough to cover the peaches. Sprinkle the chopped almonds over the yoghurt and pipe some stiffly whipped cream over the yoghurt. Refrigerate for about 2-3 hours before serving.

Enjoy the weekend!

BIG BOYS DON'T CRY!

“It is such a secret place, the land of tears.” - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Do you remember the last timed you cried? And I don’t mean the last time you peeled onions or were trying to light a fire, I mean wept; cried real, emotional tears as a result of some adversity in your life or as a result of a particularly painful memory surfacing again. If you answered “yes”, then you are probably a woman, as a German Society of Ophthalmology study has shown that women cry more often, for a longer time and more dramatically than men.

But first some physiology: Tears are produced by the lacrimal glands that are situated in the upper eyelids. The fluid that is constantly produced by this gland cleanses and lubricates the exposed surface of the eye and drains into the nose through the lacrimal duct. Every time we blink we help to cover the eye with a thin trilaminar layer of secretion, keeping our eyes moist and washing away dust, bacteria and other irritants. What we think of as tears, scientists call tear film, which is made up of three distinct, microscopic layers. The middle, watery layer (what we normally think of as tears when we cry) is sandwiched between a layer of mucus and an outer layer of fatty, oily substances collectively called meibum.

Tear glands will produce more secretion when the eyes are irritated. These extra tears are called reflex or irritant tears (remember the onion? Apparently if you chew gum while peeling onions you’ll tear less – I haven’t tried it). When something makes you happy or sad, your tear glands will produce emotional tears, which have a slightly different composition than irritant tears. Tears drain down into the eye through two tiny openings on the brim of the upper and lower eyelids at the inner edge of the eyes, which lead to the nasolacrimal tear ducts next to the bridge of your nose. From there, they are channelled into your nasal cavity where they are swallowed or blown out with other nasal fluids. If there are too many tears, they will overflow your lower lid and run down the cheeks.

Sjögren’s syndrome is a disease also called “dry eye syndrome”, where they produce little or no tears. People who have diseases like rheumatoid arthritis or lupus often have this condition as a complication. They must use artificial tears up to every 10 to 15 minutes, and apply other medications to their eyes before going to bed as part of the treatment to improve the condition of their eyes and to prevent infection. Interestingly, some of these people can still produce emotional tears, but not irritant tears!

According to the German Society of Ophthalmology, which has collated different scientific studies on tears and crying, women shed tears on average 50 times a year and men about 10 times a year. Men tend to cry for about three minutes, but for females, crying sessions last around six minutes. Weeping turns into full-blown sobbing for women in 65% of cases, compared to just 6% for males.

Until adolescence, however, there is no sex difference. Up until 13 years, boys and girls cry in the same way and with the same frequency. This suggests that we may learn how to control our crying and there may be other influences such as societal norms and peer pressure, hormonal factors and even family upbringing that will influence whether or not you are likely to burst into tears.

The reasons for crying are different between the sexes too. Women cry when they feel inadequate, when they are confronted by situations that are difficult to resolve or when they remember past events. Men, meanwhile, tend to cry from empathy or when a relationship fails. The function of emotional tears and weeping remains something of a mystery, however, the research found. The cold hard scientists have grave doubts over its cathartic or relaxing effects, but you and I know full well that having a good cry really does get things out of your system!

weep |wēp| verb ( past and past part. wept |wept|) [ intrans. ]
1 shed tears: A grieving mother wept over the body of her daughter | [ trans. ] He wept bitter tears at her cruelty.
• utter or express with tears : [with direct speech ] “No!” she wept.
• [ trans. ] archaic mourn for; shed tears over: A young widow weeping her lost lord.
2 exude liquid: She rubbed one of the sores, making it weep.
noun [in sing. ]
a fit or spell of shedding tears.
ORIGIN Old English wēpan (verb), of Germanic origin, probably imitative.
Jacqui BB hosts Word Thursday.

POSTCARD FROM BRISBANE

“Earth laughs in flowers.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I was in Brisbane for the day today, leaving on a 6:00 am flight and coming back on a 6:30 pm flight, which with the time difference meant getting back home at 10:00 pm. As I got up at 4:00 am that made for an 18-hour day. Quite tiring, and the trouble is I have to do it all over again next week. At least the day was very successful, with several meetings that were run and which achieved quite a lot. We also had some videotaping done that we shall use for some publicity/marketing purposes.

The weather in Brisbane today was hot and sunny with the temperature hovering around the 30˚C mark. Meanwhile in Melbourne it was cool and rainy (and we need all that rain!). The Jacarandas, Frangipanis and Coral trees were all in bloom and the fragrance was carried everywhere by the breeze – quite sumptuous!

On the way back, on the plane, I jotted down this on a paper napkin:

Spring Song for the Harem

The Jacaranda blooms for you Miranda,
And I lie basking in your sunny smile.
The fragrant air, the colours flagrant,
Spring’s here and lingers for awhile.

The Frangipani perfumes you sweet Annie,
And I laze in the warmth of your embrace.
Blue skies, while the swift swallow flies,
The air is redolent with cinnamon and mace.

The Coral Tree brightly blushes for you Bea,
And I adore your sweet and gentle manner.
The day so warm, the bees in swarm,
Summer soon will be flying its golden banner.

The Tree Orchid adorns your garden Enid,
And I drink in your beauty’s honeyed draught.
The night so softly falls and in its rite
Caresses us and plies its magic loving craft.

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday. Visit her blog for more poems!

RUDOLF VIRCHOW

“Science without conscience is the soul’s perdition.” - François Rabelais

October 13th is the birthday of Rudolf Ludwig Carl Virchow, the German pathologist, medical scientist, anthropologist, and politician (1821-1902) and one of the great men of my science whom I admire greatly. He was the founder of the school of “cellular pathology”, which forms the basis of modern pathology. He was born in Schivelbein, the only child of a farmer and city treasurer. Relatively little is recorded of his childhood.

In 1839 Virchow entered the Friedrich Wilhelms Institute in Berlin to study medicine so that he could become an army doctor. He was influenced by Johannes Müller, who encouraged many German doctors to use experimental laboratory methods in their medical studies. Virchow received his medical degree in 1843, having already shown a keen interest in pathology. In 1845, while still working as an intern, Virchow published his first scientific paper. By this year he had committed himself to a research methodology based on a mechanistic understanding of vital phenomena.

Medical research, according to Virchow, needed to use clinical observation, experiments on animals, and microscopic examination of human tissues in order to understand how ordinary chemical and physical laws could explain the normal and abnormal phenomena associated with life. He accepted the cell theory as one basic element in this mechanistic understanding of life. In committing himself to this view, he joined a group of radical young medical scientists who were then challenging the dominant vitalism of an older generation. He was instrumental in destroying the vestiges of the humoral causation of disease that were still current in Germany at the time.

In 1846 Virchow began to teach courses in pathological anatomy. In 1847 he was appointed to his first academic position with the rank of Privatdozent. In the same year he and a colleague, Benno Reinhardt, published the first volume of a medical journal, the Archives for Pathological Anatomy and Physiology and Clinical Medicine. Virchow continued to edit this journal until his death in 1902. The journal now known as Virchows Archiv is still published.

Early in 1848 Virchow presented a report on a typhus epidemic in Upper Silesia in which he recommended that the best way to avoid a repetition of the epidemic would be to introduce democratic forms of government. This was an indication of radical political ideas. When the revolution broke out in Berlin, Virchow joined the revolutionaries fighting on the barricades. He threw himself wholeheartedly into the revolution. He participated in a number of democratic clubs and helped edit a weekly paper, Die medizinische Reform, which promoted revolutionary ideas in relation to the medical profession.

Virchow's political views led to his suspension by the re-established conservative government in 1849. The suspension was quickly revoked because of the hostile reaction of the medical fraternity. Later the same year Virchow was appointed professor at the University of Würzburg. Shortly after, he married Rose Mayer, the daughter of a leading German gynaecologist. The chair at Würzburg was the first one in Germany to be devoted to pathological anatomy. During Virchow’s 7 years there, the medical school became recognised as one of the best in Europe, largely due to his teaching. He was a very strict and severe examiner and his favourite justification of his extremely difficult pathology examinations was: “Einmal in Leben wenigstens muss doch ein Arzt auf der Höhe der Wissenschaft sein.” (“Well, at least once in his life, a doctor has to be at the peak of his science.”)

He developed his concept of “cellular pathology”, basing his interpretation of pathological processes on the recently formulated cell theory of Matthias Schleiden and Theodor Schwann. In the same period he became joint editor of an annual publication reviewing the year's progress in medical science. This publication later became known as Virchow’s Jahresbericht, and he continued to edit it until his death. He also started work in 1854 on his “Handbook of Special Pathology and Therapeutics”, which became the model for later German “handbooks” in various sciences. Although Virchow's main interest at Würzburg was pathology, he also continued to work in the field of public health and began researches in physical anthropology.

In 1856 Virchow accepted a chair at the University of Berlin on condition that a new building be constructed for a pathological institute. He remained in this position for the rest of his life. From 1859 Virchow renewed his activities in politics. In that year he was elected as a member of the city council, on which he served until his death. On the council he mainly interested himself in matters of public health. In 1861 Virchow was one of the foundation members of the Deutsche Fortschrittpartei and was elected in the same year to the Prussian Diet. He vigorously opposed Bismarck's preparations for war and his “blood and iron” policy of unifying Germany.

In the late 1860s and 1870s Virchow concentrated his attention on anthropology and international medical relations. He was active in numerous international medical congresses during this period and kept a continuing interest in the control and prevention of epidemics. In 1873 Virchow was elected to the Prussian Academy of Science. All his contributions to this body were in the field of anthropology, mostly concerning physical anthropology and archeology. In his new field as in others he took up the task of editing a leading journal, the Zeitschrift für Ethnologie. Virchow's later years continued to be active, especially in relation to his editorial duties. He died on Sept. 5th, 1902.

The painting is by Robert Thom who has painted a remarkable series of history of medicine tableaux.

A SPIRITED PERFORMANCE

“Illusions commend themselves to us because they save us pain and allow us to enjoy pleasure instead. We must therefore accept it without complaint when they sometimes collide with a bit of reality against which they are dashed to pieces.” - Sigmund Freud

Yesterday we watched a Fellini film, his first colour feature, in fact. It was the 1965 “Giulietta degli Spiriti” (Juliet of the Spirits). The film starred Fellini’s wife Giulietta Masina, in one of her finest performances as Giulietta, the downtrodden, rooster-pecked wife of Giorgio (Mario Pisu), a philandering insensitive oaf of a man. A host of obnoxious relatives and hangers-on complete the cast with some amazingly outré screen presences by Sandra Milo, Valentina Cortese, José Luis De Villalonga, Caterina Boratto, Sylva Coscina and Valeska Gert. Reality mixes with fantasy, memories mix with goings-on in the spirit world and the whole movie is a quasi-surrealistic kaleidoscope of colour and movement. Phantasmagoric would be my choice of word to describe the film, which works on many levels and manages to satisfy even a quite demanding viewer. Fellini’s mastery of the director’s art is evident in full flight in this movie.

The plot is quite insubstantial and could be summarised in a few sentences. Giulietta, a naïve, superstitious, simple woman is in love with and married to Giorgio. He cheats on her with “Gabriella”, a name he murmurs in his sleep and which is overheard by Giulietta. She is persuaded to investigate the spirit world in order to “become happier” by her pushy and eccentric family that brow-beat her. Her memories of a repressive childhood surface as she begins to explore the spirit world and as she discovers her husband’s infidelity. She is tempted to cheat on him on him by the voluptuous Suzy, her neighbour. The film traces Giulietta’s path to liberation.

The plot is embroidered with multicoloured silken threads of narrative, sub-plots that twist and turn as well as pure whimsy. Fellini was having enormous fun making this movie and it shows. Self-indulgent full flights of fancy are hard to come by in cinema, but Fellini scores well in this film. Some of the costumes (and especially the hats) are grotesquely rococoesque and amazingly, contribute so much to the telling of the story! Perhaps what helps the story-telling the most is the colour. This may have been Fellini’s first colour film but he used colour like a master artist. Every screen sparkles and coruscates, pure bold masses of colour alternating with drab, greyish browns that complement Giulietta’s often virginal white garb. Colour is happiness, gaiety, abandon, lust and unbridled sexuality, while the darker shades and white represent restraint, repressed emotion, celibacy and innocence. When Giulietta dons the bright red dress, she has decided to take charge of her life (even though this decision may be undermined by insecurity, doubt and lack of resolve).

Giulietta Masina proves her worth as a consummate actress in this film and a single glance, a twitch of her eyebrow, a slight tilting of her head speaks more than a thousand lines of dialogue. Her transformation from an innocent, apparently happy middle class housewife to a knowing, self-assured, experienced but crushed woman is apocalyptic. The last scenes seem to me to indicate that Giulietta has venged herself. Once again it’s her eyes that seem to indicate her actions. Her insistence to help preparing Giorgio’s meal before he leaves to join his mistress makes me think that poison is on her mind. But is she only thinking about it, or did she do it? Fellini teases us.

One disappointing aspect of the film was Nino Rota’s music. I am no great fan of any of his music. His cheery band-like tunes jangle too much and in some places jar and detract from the images on the screen. Occasionally, his march-like jingles will marry with the cavalcade of images on the screen, but overall, I found the score a great let down. It may be argued that the music contributes to the irony of the plot, but I needed something more sympathetic with Giulietta’s character. One scene when Giorgio’s friend, the mysterious Spaniard who Giulietta is tempted by, strums the guitar in the garden is quite magical and more in tune with the spirit of the film (all puns intended!)…

See it, it’s worth it!

REDOUTÉ ROSES

“Now every field is clothed with grass, and every tree with leaves; now the woods put forth their blossoms, and the year assumes its gay attire.” - Virgil

Seeing it was a beautiful Spring day today (complete with a Spring shower in the afternoon), I give you for Art Sunday, Redouté. Pierre Joseph Redouté (1759-1840) was one of the most famous flower painters of all time. He was born into a Flemish painters’ family, who earned a living by producing decorative and church paintings. He started painting at a young age. In 1782 he went to Paris, where he initially worked as a decorative painter at the “Theatre des Italiens”. In his spare time, he frequently drew in the Jardin du Roi. Here he caught the attention of the botanist Charles Louis L'Héritier, who encouraged him to produce anatomical studies, introduced him to dissection techniques and offered him free access to his botanical library and plant collection. Redouté contributed to L'Héritier’s publications, catching the eye of the flower painter Gérard von Spaendonck, who, together with other artists, produced drawings and paintings for the famous Vélins du Roi. Spaendonck recruited Redouté as a staff member, and he subsequently contributed over 500 paintings to this huge undertaking. An important aspect of this collaboration was that Redouté was introduced to Spaendonck's watercolor technique, by which he used to produce flower paintings with a bright transparency.

Finally, Marie-Antoinette appointed him as her court painter. Encounters with the royal family were, however, rare. During the 1790s, Redouté became one of the most popular flower painters. He perfected the colour stipple engraving technique, which he had learned during a stay in London and first applied it in his illustrations for de Candolle's work “Plantes Grasses”. From 1802 he published his “Liliacées”, in which he largely applied the technical possibilities of colour printing to the large and evenly coloured leaves and blossoms.

In 1805 he was appointed court and flower painter to the Empress Josephine. After she had been overthrown, he remained in close contact with the Bourbon royal family. From 1817 to 1824 he produced the work that was to become the peak of his success, “Les Roses” in an excellent edition by Firmin Didot. Each delivery of the finished colour copperplates, was received with a storm of enthusiasm, but in spite of his fame and his employment at court, he continued to attribute more importance to the scientific detail than to the effects of composition and colour seen in purely artistic flower paintings. From 1822 until he died, Redouté occupied a simple position as a painting teacher, succeeding Spaendonck, and often talked about his art in front of over 150 students in the large hall of the Buffon gallery.

The Redouté roses are fresh, delicate, beautifully drawn and with colours that are vibrant and crisp. If springtime had to have an artist, surely he would be one that she would consider.
(Rosa gallica maheka from Pierre-Joseph Redouté’s Les Roses, 1817-24)

THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE

“Peace cannot be achieved through violence, it can only be attained through understanding.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The award of the Nobel Prize for Peace to US president Barack Obama has given rise to controversy throughout the world. The Nobel Committee as a justification for its choices, cited “his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples”. However, even his staunchest supporters know that none of these dreams have yet come true. A prize for a dream and for a politician’s visionary and nebulous promises may be seen by many as hasty and ill-advised.

On the one hand it is reassuring to see the Nobel Committee choosing to reward an idea, an intention, a pipe dream, if you like. On the other one wonders if this is a much more canny decision. Is this award a means of keeping a politician honest and a good way to ensure that he delivers on his promises? There has been an enormous responsibility placed on the US president now to make his dreams a reality. If he does not deliver, then the outcry will be worldwide and the clamour much louder than that of the controversy surrounding his award.

Many opponents of the Nobel Committee’s choice are the usual war-mongering, pro-war fraternity who wish to see a US president reign by inciting fear and waging war as a means of preserving peace. They wish their president to be powerful and feared, rather than be seen as weak and pro-peace. They see the award of the prize to Obama as an affirmation of his socialist leanings and weakness in matters of international policy.

This view is diametrically opposed by another group of dissenters, who agree only on one point with the former group, and that is they concur with the error of the prize award to Obama. These latter objectors remark that “actions speak louder than words”. The prize should be better given to a peacemaker of action, someone who has worked actively and with the proven results of making the world a better place to live in. Who, for example, would object to the 1999 Nobel Peace Prize winners, the group Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders)? Was a Nobel Peace Prize better awarded than to this group of doctors who travel the world in order to help bring medical care to sick people irrespective of race, creed or political convictions?

I have mixed feelings about this year’s choice for the Nobel Peace Prize. I would rather have had a similar group like the Doctors without Borders be awarded. On the other hand, I sincerely hope that the US president will now feel the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders and realise his grandiloquent promises. I can only hope that the number the Nobel Committee has put its chips on to win, will do so – much is riding on it…

For Music Saturday, an apt choice perhaps, Gustav Holst’s “Venus – The Bringer of Peace” from his “Planets” suite, played by the Berlin Philharmonic and conducted by Sir Colin Davis.

CERTIFIED ORGANIC

“Nature provides a free lunch, but only if we control our appetites.” - William Ruckelshaus

A new national standard was introduced in Australia today assuring consumers that food labelled “organic” really is such. The standard that was adopted outlines the minimum requirements that are needed to be met in order get the “organic or biodynamic tick of approval”. It also simplifies the criteria and lessens the categories of certification from eight to three. The standard makes provision for production, preparation, transport, marketing and labelling practices and also requires the maintenance of strict records by producers and marketers.

The voluntary standard requires the organic label to be held off for at least three years after the required farming practices are adopted. Similarly the same period must be allowed for the use of organic or biodynamic livestock feed. This of course ensures that any traces of “non-organic” contamination are dissipated before the truly organic product reaches our table. Once these procedures have been carried out and once the certification is attained, the product can be certified organic.

It is hoped that this new standard will help the consumer answer this question: “How can I trust organic?” The new standard suggests that this will be easy as the consumer can look for a “certified organic” logo on the product to be absolutely certain a product is truly organic. Unlike claims such as “green”, “sustainable” and “natural”, which are often misused and falsely applied, the certified organic industry relies on recognised standards and most importantly independent auditing and certification to back those claims.

More information is available from the Australian Food News (AFN) site.

THE FINE LINE BETWEEN RACISM AND SATIRE

“Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody's face but their own.” - Jonathan Swift

The newspapers today are full of the public reaction to a TV show last night. The show was a blast from the past, the highly popular “Hey Hey It’s Saturday”, which has its second reunion special. The show was a fixture on Saturday nights in the 70s and 80s and its evergreen host Daryl Somers was a popular TV personality for decades. The show, which went off air in 1999, was resurrected for these comeback performances and this latest instalment attracted an average national audience of 2.3 million viewers (100,000 more than watched the first reunion special last week). The show obviously has nostalgia value for many, although personally, I was never a fan of this inane frivolity…

However, it appears that times have definitely changed and the show really overstepped the boundaries of good taste. In a segment of the show called “Red Faces” there is a talent quest-like competition and contestants front up to showcase their special gifts. The show was accused of being racist after a skit featured a group done up in black face paint (à la black and white minstrel show) re-enacting a Jackson Five song. The same group performed the same act on the show 20 years ago. Harry Connick Jr, was one of the segment judges, and he took offence at the act and gave it a zero. He said if the skit had appeared on television in the US, the show would have been terminated.

This sparked off a furious controversy here in Australia (and abroad, especially the USA!). Australia has been accused of being racist, backward and redneck, while Australia has said the people offended have no sense of humour, are over-reacting and are representing political correctness gone crazy. Anand Deva is the frontman of the skit, and he is a prominent Sydney-based plastic surgeon. He together with the host Daryl Somers apologised on Thursday morning, but said it was ironic that he’d been called racist, given his Indian background.

I seem to recall a 2004 movie called “White Chicks” in which two black men were made up to look like white, blonde women. This did not raise any ruckus and while the film was quite bad, nobody screamed racist or sexist or blondist. I found it an inane and unwatchable movie, just as the concept of the black skit on the TV show leaves me quite cold. However, the Harry Connick Jr over-reaction is also offensive and way over the top. I would agree that political correctness nowadays has gone over the top.

Some of the best Irish jokes are told by Irish people (who are successful, smart and resourceful), blondes tend to laugh most at blonde jokes (while themselves being very clever and astute), Jewish jokes are made up by witty, successful and entertaining Jews, Greeks take the mickey out of themselves because they have a sense of humour… All of course being done in good taste. There are crass and offensive jokes, and there are clever, witty, satirical ones. Harry Connick Jr has to protect himself from the backlash when he goes back home and his reaction is a protective mechanism. Had he reacted in any other way, he would have been in very hot water when he returned home.

I am a tolerant, non-racist person who comes from a minority myself. At school I was taunted and was the butt of racist remarks, so I know what it feels like. However, nowadays I think nothing of it and even if I come across a racist I quickly make it clear to them that they have the problem not me. However, I have heard some excellent jokes about Greeks and will often tell them myself while laughing at the exaggerated quirks of my ethnic group. Satire is a wonderful thing. Let’s not lose it in the name of political correctness.

I personally did not see the skit, but from the descriptions of it and knowing the type of show “Hey Hey It’s Saturday” was, I would say that the skit was not in good taste and would be closer to unacceptable than humorous. However, banning it or pronouncing it as a cause of axing the show to me is an over-reaction.

satire |ˈsaˌtīr| noun
The use of humour, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticise people's stupidity or vices, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues.
• A play, novel, film, or other work that uses satire: A stinging satire on American politics.
• A genre of literature characterised by the use of satire.
• (in Latin literature) a literary miscellany, esp. a poem ridiculing prevalent vices or follies.
DERIVATIVES
satirist |ˈsatərist| noun
ORIGIN early 16th century: from French, or from Latin satira, later form of satura ‘poetic medley’ from Greek saturos, a follower of Dionysos, Greek god of wine and drama.

Jacqui BB hosts Word Thursday

SPRING FUNERAL

“Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.” - Rainer Maria Rilke

Finally got home at 1:30 am this morning after delays with connecting flights and delayed baggage deliveries. The time difference (Melbourne is three hours ahead of Singapore) helped with the late night, but it was harder to wake in the morning. Consequently, I was late into work, getting in there at about 9:00 am, instead of my usual 7:15 am. The weather here was cold and wet and the crispness in the air was a welcome relief from the tropical sogginess of Singapore…

The garden has started to bloom in earnest now and the irises, primulas, roses and jasmine are beginning to look glorious. Our native frangipani, Hymenosporum flavum in the front yard is in full bloom and the delicious fragrance of the blooms was a welcome in the darkness of the night as I turned the key in the front door. The grey skies this morning, the wet streets and the cold, crisp air triggered in my mind some memories. Passing by the Melbourne cemetery in the morning also may have helped in inspiring this poem that was jotted down on a paper bag, to be transferred here tonight.

Spring Funeral

Spring wakes deep in earth the sodden seeds
Making more acute my pressing needs;
The rain that gently falls will wash me clean
No more my painful memories will I glean.

I loved you such a long time ago
And yet I chose dreams to forego.

The greenwood leaves unfurl and open fresh
The breeze still cool, tempers my burning flesh;
Desires, passions, loves I bury deep in earth
Path chosen, heart dies, mind more is worth.

I loved you such a long time ago
But now allegro turns to largo.

As flowers fresh are laid by a new dug grave
All your thinly disguised betrayals I forgave;
The falling night will usher in the stars
Silence – except for mournful cries of nightjars.

I loved you such a long time ago
Now where to turn? To whom to go?


Jacqui BB is hosting Poetry Wednesday

COMING BACK HOME...

“To get away from one's working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one's self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change.” - Charles Horton Cooley

Travelling back home today, but it will be a long haul, seeing how it is Singapore to Melbourne via Sydney. The trouble with Sydney airport is that:
(a) it is not a 24-hour airport and the last flight out is at about 10:30 pm, and,
(b) the international terminal is quite a distance from the domestic terminal, necessitating a bus trip.

Nevertheless, it will be good going back home, this trip was rather long and arduous…

MOVIE MONDAY - A LITTLE SPICE

“Our hearts where they rocked our cradle,
Our love where we spent our toil,
And our faith, and our hope, and our honour,
We pledge to our native soil.
God gave all men all earth to love,
But since our hearts are small,
Ordained for each one spot should prove
Beloved over all.” - Rudyard Kipling

I watched a movie at the hotel last night, which was pleasant enough although not great film-making nor was it an outstanding script. Nevertheless, it kept up interest and the lead was beautiful to look at. It was Paul Mayeda Berges’s 2005 film “Mistress of Spices”. It starred the famous Bollywood beauty, Aishwarya Rai and Dylan McDermott as the romantic leads, although the chemistry between them was not all that great. Nitin Ganatra, Anupam Kher, Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje and Zohra Seghal gave good supporting perfomances.

The film is based on the novel by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, and is a mystical, magical romantic story that plays like a modern fairy tale. We are first taken to India where a baby girl is born to a poor family, who only regard her birth as a future dowry-debt. However, as the child grows up, her parents realize that she has special powers that enable her to find lost things as well as foretell the future. Bandits learn of her existence, and in their quest for wealth, abduct her, but she manages to escape and lands on a shoreline where a woman is teaching young girls how to be “Mistresses of Spices”. She is taken into this group, and named Tilo (Sesame). She becomes a Mistress of Spices, and like all others must follow three rules for all her life: Look after desires of others; never leave the spice store; and never touch anyone else's skin. When she grows up, she is put in charge of a store, the “Spice Bazaar” in San Francisco. There she begins to dispense her spices helping people’s lives. We are immersed in her interactions with older Indian man called Dada, a man named Kwesi, a woman called Myisha, a taxi-driver named Haroun, the teenager Jagjit and his mother, as well as a man named Doug and later his girlfriend. She prepares special spice mixtures for them to improve their lives. Tilo soon begins to be attracted to Doug, breaking the first rule; she also leaves the store to visit Haroun, and she starts to feel - thus breaking all the sacred rules.

I was reminded a little of the film “Chocolat” with Juliette Binoche by this film. However, this film deals with the problems of cultural clashes and the spices are metaphor for the culture of the “old country” which one must compromise in order to live fully a fulfilling life in the “new country”. The conflict between duty and filial love, with the more egotistical desires of self-fulfilment and romantic love are contrasted. As Tilo begins to break the rules the vindictiveness of the spices is shown with not only Tilo suffering, but also her formerly happy customers paying the price of her non-compliance.

McDermott looks uncomfortable right throughout the movie and it is really Aishwarya Rai who carries the film, looking very luscious and doing much acting with her eyes and face. Those who are not fans of voice-overs may find the extensive use of this device a trifle tiresome, but I did not mind it too much. As most of the film takes place inside the spice shop (remember Tilo is forbidden to come out of it), the director makes the most of the rich colours and interesting shapes and textures of the spices. However, the close-ups of the chilli peppers were a bit hackneyed and overused after about three times…

The concept of spices being used medicinally and for mental problems is not too far fetched with traditional Indian Ayurvedic and Islamic Unani medicine using all of these spices therapeutically. Overall I found the movie a little too simple, its character development almost non-existent, the plot too thin, and the chemistry between the leads weak. However, it was pleasant enough to watch and if the book falls into my hands I think I would rather like to read it and see whether it is in fact better.

SUNDAYS IN SINGAPORE

“Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's need, but not every man's greed.” - Mohandas K. Gandhi

Whenever I come to Singapore, if it is Sunday, I am always amazed by the large numbers of Filipinas that congregate on Orchard Road (after morning mass is over, of course). Most of them work here as maids, cleaners and service staff. They flock towards Lucky Plaza and rush to the upper floors where the money remittance offices are. They queue there for a long time until their turn comes and then they can send some money to their families back home. They wear their Sunday best and they smile, chatter to each other and dream. They queue again at the internet outlets where they can cheaply talk with their relatives over Skype. Then they can go and have a cheap meal with their friends or even a picnic lunch on one of the sidewalks in the streets off Orchard Rd, for which they get their comstibles in the cheap Filipino shops. And so it was today also…

They flocked around me as I walked down Orchard Rd, their happy voices twittering like the songs of tropical birds, their smiling faces full of Sunday happiness. Their day of rest dedicated to their family and their fellow Filipinas here in Singapore. The outing providing them with the opportunity to talk their language, share their stories, alleviate their homesickness, share a smile. I’ve heard that many of them have to work long hours for low wages and even have to cope with bad working conditions and perhaps even a cruel boss. The Filipina maid here in Singapore is an expendable commodity and if the one you have is not what you are looking for, there are many others willing to take her place. The placement agencies (many in Lucky Plaza once again) have hundreds of advertisements, photos upon photos of available service staff. To be placed in a household attracts a hefty fee for the agent, which the worker has to pay.

The same goes for Indonesians, Indians, other SE Asians who wish to come to Singapore and work, taking advantage of the buoyant economy. Indian workers are willing to be shipped here and work in construction sites and willing to pay their first 6-12 months of wages to the agent that places them. In return they get dormitory space to sleep in and their meals. If they then stay on, they will get the money in their pockets to send back home… One sees them by the truckload early every morning being taken to the site and returning late in the evening.

The haves and the have nots. The struggle for survival versus the greed of the rapacious egotistical society that rewards avarice and the search for status and endless luxury. The riches of our century are unimaginable, but the prices is that poverty of our century is unlike that of any other. Poverty in times before was the result of natural scarcity, however, nowadays poverty is the result of a set of priorities dictated by the rich. The modern poor are written off as rubbish. Our consumer economy views the poor with disdain and ignores them as no-hopers, idlers and as those who fail to take the opportunities given to them. They are not indeed social entrepreneurs as the conference I attended concluded…

SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE A BLACK SHEEP...

"I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live." - George Bernard Shaw

Today was the last day of the conference and as I attended all three days I was considering by the end of today what the conference achieved, what I learnt and also what I could do on my return home. As is the case with such conferences, there are a lot of very clever people present and many fantastic ideas are vocalised. There are visionaries and impassioned idealists, some socialist and altruistic social reformers, but also there those who are vain and self-centred, and of course there are the hypocrites and the opportunists.

Dr Ting Choon Meng is a local Singaporean who has developed an innovative monitoring wristwatch that is used to record cardiac parameters on a 24-hour basis in patients with heart disease (with great commercial success). It has saved the life of many people who are under increased threat of stroke and heart attack. He was one of the panellists in one of today’s sessions and he related a story of a Chinese man who lived in a remote part of China. This man for the last 40 years had carried out a job that he felt was essential for this community. He lived in a village, which several decades ago had become bisected in two because of geological upheavals and the re-coursing of a river through the middle of it. As the two halves of the village became separated by the river, this man sold his house, bought a boat and became the ferryman for the village. He demanded no payment for the job and he survived completely on his fellow-villagers’ contributions to his daily needs in terms of food, clothing, etc. Quid pro quo. Dr Ting gave this as an example of an individual being someone who responded to a social need by innovating and resolving a problem in the community, all for the social good.

I was thinking about that all day, especially in the context of what had transpired over the last three days of the conference. This ferryman was certainly an altruist and maybe even a socialist, but he was certainly not a “social entrepreneur”, which was what the conference was about. Had he been one, he would have sold his house, asked for more money from the villagers (his backers) and he would constructed a bridge to span the river. He would have charged a toll every time someone crossed it and in time not only recovered the initial capital, but also made a profit – while at the same time responding to the social need…

I then reconsidered the substance of the conference. Most of the attendees were very much capitalists. They were industrialists and bankers, company directors, CEOs of multinational companies. They were relating their experiences following an “epiphany” they had had regarding sustainability and environmental care, social reform. The classic case was Rob Walton the heir of the “Walmart” fortune. He related how he spearheaded the “greening” of his company and how suddenly, Walmart became a company with an environmental and social conscience. This is of course was in response to a huge public outcry about unsustainable company practices and the selling of products that were quite clearly not “green” nor particularly socially conscientious. Walmart’s turning “green” was an astute business decision which assured their continued profits and shareholder satisfaction with company performance.

My concern with the conference that has been niggling me a little was whether this “social entrepreneur” focus was not simply a front for capitalist interests. Green is sexy nowadays and it sells products. A company can be made or broken based on its green (or otherwise) policy. It also makes sense for large corporations to sponsor environmental causes (as well as the obvious good PR, it is also a good tax break). Am I being too much of a cynic here? I think not. The DBS bank of Singapore was the “diamond sponsor” of the conference. Its representative at the conference was quick to point out that the bank did not indiscriminately back socially worthy projects, but rather the projects with “connections” had a better chance of being “supported” (and he made it clear that this “support” was not necessarily of a financial type). They were even gracious enough to waive bank charges for the supported projects! How generous!

There was a message that came through the conference which on reflection grated on me. It was the concept of “success” being equated with “financial success”. Our Chinese ferryman would not have been deemed to be very successful if he attended the conference and I doubt if he would have got any award. Mr Walton of Walmart (personally worth a cool $25 billion) on the other hand won the jackpot award of the Social Innovation Park of Singapore. He got awarded as the Super Duper Grand Fellow or something or other. He was obviously the “social entrepreneur” that we should all aspire to be.

Another representative from Conservation International got on my nerves today. Firstly, he left the panel discussion before the designated finish time as he had another “important” appointment (which was very rude in terms of the conference attendees, some of whom had come thousands of kilometres to hear his pearls of wisdom). He was wearing his Armani designer suit, his Rolex watch, his Prada shoes (I suppose – do they make men’s shoes? I wouldn’t know) and no doubt earning an annual salary that could support several third world country families for several years. What made it all the more annoying – no, stronger than that – more infuriating, was that his salary was paid by public contributions to appeals and by company handouts. No doubt, he is doing some good, I suspect that some good must come out of the efforts of such groups, but at what cost? I am not suggesting that he should have come to the conference in overalls and gumboots, but are annual salaries of hundreds of thousands of dollar and a branded image necessary for someone representing Conservation International?

The concept of branding came up. Building a successful brand for a social entrepreneur was deemed to be of prime importance as this was to contribute to being successful commercially. Dignity of underprivileged and third world country populations was equated to their ability to purchase commodities and “brands” at the same level as a first world country. This struck me as another attempt by the capitalist system to survive in a climate that is still causing extreme hardship in the countries that built it. The USA will suffer from many more years from the effects of the economic recession, and the greed and avarice that caused it is now being peddled as “social enterprise”. We know that Communism didn’t work, we are experiencing the failure of rampant Capitalism, is “social enterprise” sand in our eyes? Is it thinly-veiled capitalism set to take advantage of us again?

Don’t get me wrong, I am not red. Perhaps a little pink, but Communism doesn’t appeal to me, it is as extreme as capitalism is. A socialist regime with strong government overseeing of national resources, control of public utilities, fair taxes, realistic limits of financial control, and many incentives for social equity is perhaps what represents me politically these days. At the same time, enterprise and personal hard work should be rewarded and sloth penalised. But I cannot support the system that rewards one individual’s work with an annual salary that runs into millions. No one person’s work is worth that much.

What I did not hear at the conference was an acknowledgement of the work of the ordinary person. To be a worker in a factory and earn a decent salary that allows you and your family to live a decent life was not even mentioned. To be a farmer who tills the earth and puts bread on the table was not something that was considered to be a worthy thing. To be an artist, or an intellectual, or a musician was not acknowledged as an essential part of our social fabric (unless of course one was a “brand” and earned millions)…

I need to think more about this. I am quite wound up over it at the moment, I need to consider it more, ruminate upon it further, discuss it with some people. I am worried that during these three days something did not ring true… Your thoughts on the matter will be appreciated.