Third word of the day: "adiaphoron"

What the hell? Try here instead. If that doesn't work, go to Kazaa and download it yourself- after all, you're on broadband and I'm not. Remember - the *cello* instrumental, not the original.

One of my more dysfunctional comrades from the frontlines in Singapore breezed into town on a Tioman wind. He's here to unwind, gratis, before heading over to the UK for some bizarre PR job with a telco. I am mildly destitute, but the demands of protocol insist that I show him a decent time here. Have managed to cunningly swap out my working Saturday with another of my colleagues, so we'll probably go shopping - he has some bizarre purchasing requirements before heading Britanniaside. Nevermind; I shall relish the chance to spend a weekend with an old friend like a normal human being.

This morning, something happened that made me feel part of my homeland in a way that I have never experienced. As I was driving into the open lot where I park, I made an illegal U-turn as I do every morning. This time, however, the long arm of the law caught up with me - in the form of a police officer(Malay, naturally), riding his motorcycle up as I pulled over to the curb in sour disgust.

He ambled over casually, and as I lowered the window, the conversation went something like thus:

The below is translated from Malay/English pidgin. It's a pity, because the conversation can only be fully appreciated in all its subtle intricacy in the original form. Still - for comprehension's sake...

"License and IC please."

I fumbled in my wallet for my drivers' license and IC. He accepted both documents and walked in controlled strides to the front of my car where he proceeded to scribble what I presume was my license plate number industriously into his notebook. Following some intense transcription, he walked back to the window.

"Do you know that what you did can be fined up to 500RM?"

Now, despite being still rather naive and wet behind the ears as far as living back home is concerned, there were basic precautions even *I* knew how to perform in such an exigency. As soon as I saw his lights flashing in the mirror, I had rapidly pulled out my wallet and stuffed all the notes contained within save two into my glove compartment. Some of you can already see where this is leading, I'm sure...

I replied(and here I have to use the original Malay phrasing), "Boleh tolong, bang?" ("dis donc. Can you help, brother?")

Now, in Malaysia, those three words represent the underlying foundation of all interactions between the private and public sector; or, to be more accurate, of all interactions between anyone vested with the authority of government; and the governed themselves. In those three words are conveyed a fatalistic recognition that everyone is part of a brutal Hobbesian world; a world in which everyone is a mere cog in a mechanism of oppression - and the authority figure is simply carrying out the task that Fate has chosen for him as the arbiter of arbitrary rules... he's simply doing his job. His own personal sympathies may lie squarely with the poor citizen who was simply trying to live perfectly in an imperfect world. Yet not all is doom and gloom - for implicit in that statement is also the understanding that, despite the roles assigned to us, we are all still men of honest features and noble hearts, and that between such brothers-in-arms forced into opposing roles by cruel Kismet, some Pareto-efficient outcome can be achieved, to the joy of everyone, despite the rigours and hardships of everyday life.

Upon my invocation of confiteor, he replied, "So how do you want to play it?" ("Nak bagaimana?" - it's NOT a literal translation, obviously:)

I opened my wallet to reveal the paucity of money in my wallet. Hastily, I plucked out the two notes(totalling 60RM), and proffered them to him with the cantata cry:
"This is all I have."

Immediately he waved at me frantically, his features in a grimace: "Eh.. don't wave that so high lah. People are watching. This is your first time, is it?" I detected a faintly paternal tone in his voice, the voice of a kind passerby educating a young waif in the ways of the world.

Then he brandished his clipboard and gestured with his head in a very loaded manner. Ah, the amazing way in which we can "condense meaning from the vapour of nuance" in such a simple bodily movement!

I nodded, and he walked lazily to the rear of the car, taking down more notes. I later caught a glimpse of the notebook and, as some of you brighter ones can probably guess, there was nothing on it save a kidney-shaped scrawl. Then he returned to me, continued with the "wayang"(pavane) of industriously enforcing traffic law and making more scribbles. At length, he passed his clipboard to me through the window, with my license and ID fastened to it by a metal caliper at its top. Wordlessly, I took the clipboard onto my lap, unclipped my license and ID before taking it back, and slipped the two notes into the caliper before passing the whole clipboard back to him. He took it with a grunt, and admonished me, "Next time be more careful. You got off cheap for the car you're driving." He then strode back to his motorcycle, and I continued my interrupted process of parking.

Now, after this, I felt nothing but a completely warm glow of patriotism that not even our lacklustre National Day propaganda festivals have failed to engender in me. I'm totally serious here. It was a profound love for a nation and society that so valued the spirit of free enterprise and libertarian principle. And like some enlightened Singaporeans can make the distinction; loving a society, even as it currently stands, does not necessarily entail support for the government. After all; consider the net result -

a) I had certainly learned my lesson in the dangers of breaking traffic laws(I'm definitely going to take a longer route around the block for the next few months)
b) The policeman had earned his due as an enforcer of the moral principle embodied in (a)
c) We had circumvented an oppressive and totalitarian government who would have screwed me out of a considerable amount of money, and the police officer of his rightful due as the hand of justice.

What a wonderful country I live in!

Actually, there's another interesting little event of the day to relate, but I'll save it for a later entry. On to the "reply" phase.

You saved.. 74 cents, Andrew. Actually, that's not a bad way to go - in your time there, you WILL consume massive amounts of photocopying services. Building a little parsimony in your thinking at this stage vis-a-vis photocopying will help you in the long run. If you don't mind the walk, get stuff out of Bailieu reserve(you can haul it out for two hours or so) and bring it to one of the copy shops on Swanston street or the one on Bouverie next to the IS department.

I know who the chao keng army clerk is; I think - and I definitely know who the chao keng Pioneer writer is - but who's "the chao keng army storeman"?

Dom is so NOT pro third-world or anti-england in any way:) He actually just attended a symposium organised by the SG government on questions of reshaping the civil polity of Singaporean society. He has some amused insights, but they are his to share, if he so chooses.

Who are all the silent inactives?

Oh, I called the guy who owns the handphone. He wasn't at his desk. My brief spurt of morality is starting to fade like an orgasm.

Thank you for your authoritative statement on Islamic banking (too bad there isn't a sarcasm tag in HTML), Gabriel - I actually have to say that I'm quite a fond admirer of some of the verbal and conceptual loops Islamic banking takes in order to fit with the letter AND spirit of the Koran. Now, I will TRY not to lecture(the same way I will TRY to be a better person and TRY to eat less luncheon meat) but the basic tenet behind the prohibition of usury is a distaste for rent-seeking behaviour ie. something for nothing; which modern economists acknowledge as being disruptive to the functioning of a free market. And in Koranic days, the most cheapskate form of rent-seeking behaviour(short of being a despotic ruler) was to be a money-lender - something for nothing. Now, granted, the letter of Islam is obviously unalterable to take into account the evolution of the modern capital market, in which interest on monies paid is no longer a function of such behaviour, but rather a legitimate recognition of investment. Which Islam DOES encourage - in fact this emphasis on returns on investment as opposed to simple interest gathering underlies a host of products such as Mudharabah, Al-bai Bithaman Aijil, and many others. Again, I will not go into a comprehensive overview of the various products available under Islamic banking, but when you speak of gratuity payments, you are probably referring to a very specific Islamic concept sometimes called al-Wadiah; which refers to the giving of a gift in exchange for trust. It is the principle
underlying most Islamic savings accounts. Bonds, NIDCs(negotiable instruments of deposit) and term loans all use other Islamic concepts in which gratuities play no part.

Now, I normally have an intense distaste for most of what Islam represents, and I will definitely acknowledge that there is sophistry being toyed with here in the letter of Koranic law, but Islam was a religion of merchants for a very long time before the fanatic waves culminating in the Wahhabism of today's Osamas. It was also the most tolerant religious structure in medieval times - Jews were treated better in Jerusalem than they were under the Christian papacy. And there are *many* tenets in Islam which encourage trade, entrepeneurship, and even some lines extolling the virtue of merchants who get rich and subsequently use this wealth for the betterment of society. Classic trickle-down economics. You've got it backward, Gabriel - Islamic banking is an example of people following the spirit of Islam while playing games with the letter of religious text; and we could do with a lot more of this.

"Sembahyang" means "pray"

Alright, have to go now. Sub umbra alarum tuarum.