past the peak

tunnel dug, bag packed - we're outta here

It's Easter, and chance to take some holiday. So off to the sweatpots (or is it rainpots, this week) of South-East Asia. Also a chance to look at Hong Kong through Malaysian coloured glasses. See you next week.

watches, cuff links and blackberry man

Read an interesting article in Intelligent Life, an Economist special, yesterday. It was by Alain de Botton, and looked at the way status, and perceptions of it, mold us. It was an abstract from a book he wrote some time ago, Status Anxiety

His main argument, it seems to me, is that in a meritocratic society the way is now clear for anyone to be successful; that the constraints of class or the creed that people are born into no longer apply. The corollary of this, of course, is that people who don't make it really are failures, and that they deserve, in the natural order of things, to be so and to be seen to be so.

He goes on to talk about definitions of success, and how, rather than absolute levels of wealth, most people define themselves as successful if they have the possessions and preferences of people they themselves deem to be successful. If he's successful and has a Ferrari, then I'm successful if I have one too. Hence the success and appeal of branding. I don't have a watch, I have a Rolex

Well, this explains a lot. Especially about what happens here in Asia's World City - what the fuck does that mean? - aka Imageville, Asia, aka Hong Kong.  Like in most small communities (such as Buttfuck, Alabama and Colostomy, Ohio), the effects of in-breeding and narrow horizons can be quite debilitating. Which explains why every business meeting you go to here features an array of same-suited, same-accessorised blokes and birds. They are obviously self-validating their success by being clones of each other (isn't that tautology?; don't you need at least one original to produce a clone? - in which case I'd like to find out who he/she is/was). Stepford Meeting.<

Well that's fine, but the question is: who decides that success is defined by the Rolex Oyster Perpetual Calendar 36mm: or the Tiffany Silver Mesh cuff link? Someone must have decreed this, because the Hong Kong Club is full of them. All flashing their success discreetly but surely in the faces of the rest of God's Chosen People in the Jackson Room

The Hong Kong Club, though is strict about some things. Well, most things, actually. One of these, like most places these days, is a prohibition on mobile phones. Odd really, if you think about it. I mean it's like banning the use of mobiles while driving. Sure it's dangerous, but probably no more than eating a Starbuck's bun or drinking a Diet Vanilla Coke. Or trying to have a bad-tempered discussion with your passenger. I wonder when they'll invent the hands-free latte.<

But banned they are, so the over-achievers here end up being torn between trying to flash their gold over the truffles (on the one hand) and being unable to stay in contact with that breaking gazillion-dollar deal (on the other

Which probably explains why now there are only four (or five, max) of us in Hong Kong who don't have a Blackberry.  Sales pitch: “Why have a life of your own when we can run it for you. It’s always on, so now you will be too”.  It's like a disease. "Levels of Blackberry infection have reached pandemic proportions," says Hong Kong health chief, "so the Government is considering urgently what measures it might take to protect the public telecommunications system". " Stress levels reaching new high" screams the headline in Investment Banking Monthly. "Thumb RSI out of control" suggests the Asia Pacific edition of Physio Gazette. Well. maybe. What is true is that this little device (actually not so little; it has to be big enough to allow you to do two-thumb typing without the knuckles crashing into one another - I wonder if they have separate Caucasian and Asian models, with this in mind?) is now everywhere. And with it, a chance for over-achievers to remind us of just how important they and their high-roller jobs really are

Sit next to one at dinner and they'll be furtively wriggling their fingers under the table cloth. Very distasteful. Or have a drink with one and see their brain conspicuously fail to manage at the one time a conversation about Asian legs and read/reply to a message from their colleague asking if there is any Verve Cliquot in the office fridge for the morning. Or queue behind one on the MTR and have to remind them that the train has arrived and that the doors are now open, while they read the latest op-ed from the Bohai Economic Research Journal

Quite frightening to see otherwise sensible adults addicted to a gizmo which links them like an unbreakable bungee cord to their jobs. But perhaps not that surprising, given that their job is their life, and the conspicuous demonstration of their success. And besides, everyone else has one. Don't they?

the sevens: day one

Despite the best of intentions, didn't actually manage to escape the Office until nearly six, so missed much of the action, including England cruising past Georgia (47 - 0) and Italy (41 - 0). However, I did get there in plenty of time to feel the build up to the game against France. Meeting up with some mates from the mainland and having a few laughs. Marvellous.

However, the revelry was short-lived. The French played a good strong game. The English didn't. In fact they were crap. They hardly had any possession and just couldn't string two passes together. In the end the Blues eased to a 28 - 17 win. Tragedy.

Let's hope things get better tomorrow. Otherwise the sevens team will be mirroring the senior team's performance in the Six Nations. Oh dear. Still, as Brian "Pit Bull" Moore said at the kick-off dinner on Thursday, we're still the World Champions at the senior game, and we've got 3 years to get it right. Meanwhile we have to ride with the punches. That'll be the test of character needed to prove we have the mettle.

even in death, taxes (except here, now)

So Henry "Smiler" Tang has announced his budget here in Hong Kong. I'm sure it must be coincidence that Gordon Brown announced his in London on the same day, or is the colonial umbilical cord still there?

Anyway, Henry's (actually, just like Gordon's) was a bit of a non-event. No major changes to tax. Except for the decision to scrap estate duties. Now like most people I don't want my kid to have to pay a huge chunk of tax on my eventual estate (we're mainly talking about my house), not least because I already paid big UK tax on the salary I saved to buy it with in the first place. So big score for Henry for getting rid of that unfairness.

But in Hong Kong it's not quite the way it is in UK. The key is in Henry's reasoning. He says that doing this will save people the trouble of employing smart lawyers to find the loopholes in the current system (?!). He also claims it will bring more asset management work to Hong Kong as people bring their capital here. Presumably this is to avoid estate duty/inheritance tax overseas.

So lots of economic impact by creating work for foreign asset managers. Not. So the benefit to the average Hong Kong resident would be? (And, incidentally, the impact on the tax revenues of the other jurisdictions from which that capital took flight would be?)

Actually it's worse than that. Recently the Hong Kong Government announced the creation of a Poverty Commission, to look at the plight of the increasing number of local people falling below the poverty line. This is partly (mainly?) the result of the fact that the fruits of the recovering local economy (8.1% GDP growth last financial year) are not trickling down to the lower levels of the community. 

Of course these are the people who will have nothing to levy estate duty on anyway, so the saving to them from this new measure will be zero. On the other hand, the people in Hong Kong who will benefit most will be the rich elite and the upper-middle classes. Now which of these groups (the poor or the rich/upper middles classes) do you think will be most influential in the forthcoming elections (either 2007 or 2010) when (yes) Henry is likley to stand as candidate for Chief Executive?

Perhaps the policy people in the Hong Kong Government ought to talk to each other a little more. Perhaps the Government ought to think more about the poor, and less about the already-rich. Perhaps, sadly, Hong Kong is, after all, the freest economy in the world. And where, as the old adage says 'the rich get richer, and the poor get screwed'.

ha ha

This is sexist humour, I know. But that doesn't mean it's not funny. Does it?

wanna bet?

Macao is just 30 km away, across the other side of the Pearl River. It takes an hour to get there by the Shun Tak hydrofoil high-speed ferry, or a fifth as long by the Shun Tak helicopter. It's a fun, quaint, grotty kind of place, with lots of Portuguese influence still visible, if not audible anymore (the colonial mother tongue has been unceremoniously squeezed out between English and Putongua, aka mainland Mandarin).

The economy has undergone a transformation over the last two years, since the liberalisation of the gaming industry in 2002. Before then, the place had a reputation for being a (very) seedy little backwater run for (if not by) some nasty elements including triad criminal organisations and a small number of well-connected businessmen, who between them basically held all the cards (forgive the pun) in the gambling sector (including the lead casinos being owned by the same company that owns (yes, that's right) Shun Tak).

Come the liberalisation and the invasion of the Vegas boys began. Now you can't move without coming across a new casino opening, resplendent with stands of celebratory flowers, gold plate and dazzling neon. It's like oriental Blackpool, only tackier.

Macao is a tiny place, with a total population of 450,000. It's a one-industry town - gambling (although they insist on the more neutral and potentially up-market term: gaming). And this industry has a great target market; most of the population of the mainland. Now not all 1.3 billion of them get to go to Macao to bet a few bob (known locally as renminbi or RMB) on the tables of the Vegas barons, but their numbers are increasing. Over 12 million last year, and probably topping 15 million this. This has created a growth explosion, with great job opportunities in the croupier, waitress, construction labour and hooker sectors. They're having to import labour, including some very leggy Russians for the latter positions (as it were).

Macao has been smart in developing this niche (gaming, I mean). Of course its customer base is pretty captive given that (a) gambling is illegal on the mainland; (b) the Chinese love to gamble; (c) Macao (like Hong Kong) has a land boundary with China proper; and (d) there is more grey money floating around the mainland economy than Alan Greenspan could shake a stick at. So keen are the good citizens of the PRC to play the tables that some of them are even going across the Russian and North Korean borders to gamble at casinos deliberately set up to meet their needs. And it's not just personal or shareholder money that's being slapped down on the green baize; some Government and Party officials are taking public funds and putting them up against the house dealer. And losing them, of course.

All of this, though, is much to the chagrin of the burgers of Hong Kong. The world's freest economy (according to a US 'Foundation' that makes Oswald Moseley look like a liberal) and the home of entrepreneurial skill. Blah blah. But the reality is that what runs Hong Kong is Big Business (well, after Beijing anyway). And the business model is very much what's good for business (ie mono/duopoly, dominant players and cosy relationships) is good for the consumer, whether they like it or not.

One of the better examples of this is the monopoly enjoyed by the Hong Kong Jockey Club, an institution with a long and distinguished history of regulating racing, giving very significant amounts of money to local charities and good causes, and promoting responsible gambling along the way. Well done, Gents. But the price the gambler pays is not being able to bet anywhere outside the Jockey Club's reach and having no access to international internet gambling. Now don't get me wrong; I don't think we should be doing anything to encourage gambling in Hong Kong. There are enough people in the lower quartile of the economy who can ill afford to spend their money on tomorrow's dog food as it canters around an exquisitely-manicured race track.

But given that people want to gamble, and will go (as they do, in droves) to Macao to be able to get into some of the seediest casinos around, the Jockey Club might consider changing its business model. Well the good news is that it has. It has asked the Hong Kong Government to allow casino gaming in Hong Kong. As long as the Jockey Club gets the monopoly. After all, you wouldn't want unscrupulous people running racing and gambling, would you?

With the current leadership vacuum in Hong Kong, nothing looks likely to happen any time soon. More likely, gaming liberalisation will join the other umpteen major policy issues currently trapped in the public consultation system. Until that gets sorted out, little chance that the Jockey Club will get what it wants. And very likely that miniscule Macao will continue to steal a march on its bigger and brasher brother across the River. That can't be a pleasing prospect for the Stewards of the Jockey Club, who on Sunday were in full splendour as they drove their S500 Mercs up to the race course at Sha Tin to enjoy the Hong Kong Derby (appropriately enough sponsored by, yes that's right, Mercedes Benz) and to lunch on champagne and oysters, while admiring each others equine assets around the paddock. You'd think it'd be enough to make them rethink the sewn-up, patronage-based system they have here. But I wouldn't give any decent odds of that happening this side of hell freezing over.

lovely jubbly

Arsenal and the despised Man U both out of the Champions League in the same week. So, there is a God, then.

so what did you do in the cultural revolution, dad?

It's funny how things that you don't look forward to turn out to be interesting. Or maybe just different to the way you expected.

Last week we were organising a seminar on infrastructure projects in the Pearl River Delta (for those not familiar with this niche sport, this is the "Workshop of the World" in Guangdong Province, just north of Hong Kong, and the crucible of the Chinese economic miracle), and we had a dinner for the guest speakers at a swanky hotel in town.

The speakers came from both Hong Kong and Guangdong. The former bunch pretty much fitted the Hong Kong bill: a couple of Hong Kong Chinese good in their field and quite sophisticated, and an expat lawyer who has been in Hong Kong for more years than he could remember. The Guangdongers also lived up to expectations: rather dour, speaking little or no English, and eating in that characteristic 'etiquette-lite' way that is one of the less loveable traits of our mainland neighbours.

Conversation was stilted. A bright Chinese girl from our Guangzhou office had travelled down with the mainlanders and did a masterful job interpreting between the mouthfuls of fish. They say language is a reflection of culture and even allowing for the ‘lost in translation’ factor it was clear that the main guest ( an elderly man with a craggy face and an air of self-importance) had had an interesting life.

He was constantly writing imaginary Chinese characters on the table cloth, a kind of calligraphic air guitar. He said that his hobby was writing character scrolls and we had a good ten minutes of pretty bewildering exchanges about the why and the how of charcoal and brush versus pen. It seemed to be going nowhere as a conversation, and it was looking increasingly as if the rest of the evening would crawl along at slow-mo speed. At least, that is, until the interpreter blandly mentioned the fact that our guest had got into calligraphy while trying to fill time during his enforced banishment to the countryside for ‘re-education through labour’ at the time of the Cultural Revolution (Little Red Books, Red Guards etc, during the late 60s/early 70s).

I think my eyebrows shooting up a couple of inches probably gave him the signal that this was interesting news to me. He was right. While doing some elementary Mandarin in the late 60’s at my home counties grammar school (don’t ask), we’d used some basic Chinese newspaper texts as study material. All of sudden I was talking face to face with someone who’d been caught up in the lunacy that had passed for a form of revolutionary change management all those decades before.

Sensing my interest, he threw out a few titbits about the way he’d had to endure the countryside and the privations of being on the wrong side of the Red Guards’ fervour (my words, not his). I tried to tease more out of him, but he suddenly clammed up; not good to wash the family dirty linen in front of strangers, I guess. So as soon as the window on that world opened, it slammed shut again. There we were, once again talking inanities over high-class Californian cuisine in the world’s smartest city (sorry NY and Tokyo), as if nothing had happened.

The whole thing had reminded me how, as a naïve teenager, I’d thought that the goings-on in China were strange and how it must be very weird place, or just a very weird time. And here I was, all those decades later, talking to someone who’d lived through it and survived.

For him, of course, it must just be one relatively small part of a tumultuous life that still has some way to run if Chinese longevity tables are anything to go by. The way China is going, the rest of his journey could be just as eventful, if less painful. He now runs a very large imported car, and he lives with his family in nice house in a well-off area. Of course many of his generation are not so lucky, still living in the crumbling agricultural systems out in the boonies or trying to migrate from the rust-belt dying state-owned enterprises to the new shiny hi-tech factories of the Pearl and Yangtse deltas.

If nothing else, our conversation will make me look at the gazillions of middle-aged (and older) people you see when visiting the mainland in a completely different light. Now I realise that they’ll all have their own stories tucked away in the back of their brains, but I won’t be able to hear about them or know what they went through. Unless I spot any of them air-writing as they pass their time away …