Working ourselves to death...

After a gap of about seven months, I find myself once more back in the pleasant environs of The Jolly Frog in Kanchanaburi, Thailand. Actually, to be a tad more accurate, it has now been renamed to The Smiley Frog and, to a small extent at least, revamped. It still attracts some of the same sorts of characters that made it such an interesting place to stay as before, but clearly not as many as previously. As I write these words at 10:30 on a Thursday morning in the airy restaurant of The Frog, I find myself alone but for one other guest who, in similar fashion, is tapping away at a laptop to her heart’s content.
Staff outnumber customers by a ratio of about 4:1 in the restaurant and, subjectively at least, it feels as if they do throughout the establishment. They seem, for the most part, to wander around relatively aimlessly trying to look busy but with very little useful to actually do. Thailand is, at least at times, a very hot and humid place and this seems to have lead to a kind of widely accepted, and very pragmatic, lethargy. Few people rush anywhere, apart from perhaps on the roads where one wonders if it is the widespread belief in reincarnation or a native carelessness that leads to the routinely reprehensible recklessness one sees there.
Other countries seem to have very different attitudes. I was reading recently about a phenomena that originated in Japan but seems to be spreading throughout more or less the whole of the so-called ‘developed’ World. It is known as ‘Karoshi’, basically a term used for the process of literally working oneself to death. Many workers in Japan, particularly those of the white collar variety, will quite routinely work until 10 or even 11 p.m., staying hours after their allotted time performing invariably unpaid overtime. Often they follow this with bouts of heavy drinking, a few hours sleep, and then returning to the office early the next morning.

Obviously such a lifestyle is deeply unhealthy. Many succumb to the stress and end up having breakdowns, becoming alcoholics or, all too frequently, simply dying, usually of heart attacks or strokes brought on by the extreme hours, sometimes they choose suicide. The Japanese government, after many high profile cases in the recent past, have been embarassed into legislating that the maximum amount of overtime that can be legally worked in a given month is an eye watering 100 hours. Such a high figure perhaps reflects the cultural attitude to service and work in that country. Given the societal expectations that are prevalent in Japan, one is aware that this is only a perfunctory exercise, people will continue to work in excess of even these astonomical limits.
Other countries, notably China and South Korea, are reporting more and more incidents of the same problem. The motivation is subtly different in these countries perhaps, a mixture of the notion of ‘going for it’ in order to be a ‘success’, familial piety a la Confusciu (or the idea that you should devote yourself completely to the furtherance of your family or group), and ‘face’, the notion that you should be concerned with how you are perceived by your fellows. Appearance is everything in China, you not only need to be successful but you need to be seen to be successful - hence the perceived necessity for so many wearable consumables: badges of rank denoting how successful you are and hence how high your status is. Apple as a company loves China. Their sales there are phenomenal, with Chinese customers often literally climbing over each other in order to be the first to own the latest iphone or laptop.

To some extent, Karoshi is now beginning to appear in the West as well. It is often driven by many of the same motivators, though perhaps pure consumerism plays a much greater role. Much like China, a person's worth, often even their self-worth, is dictated by the ability to afford the right products. Part of the process, in the UK at least, is the willingness is go into ever greater debt in order to ‘afford’ particularly nice cars, TVs or sofas. Whatever the motivation, the effect is much the same, with people feeling obliged to work longer and longer hours of almost invariably unpaid overtime to keep their ever increasingly demanding jobs.
One cannot help but wonder, given the damage to our planet, our personal lives, even our health that such unhealthy consumerism has brought, if is a wise way to go. Our very existence and pertinence to society seems to now be measured in how good we are at being consumers. Perhaps, finally, it is time for a paradigm shift. a shift away from being consumers to being producers, to stepping outside the economic system and becoming responsible for the basics of our own lives. A shift away from the top down model of consuming ready made goods and foods to a bottom up model wherein we take responsibility for our own lives and become producers rather than consumers.
This phenomenon can already be seen occurring in the US and, to a certain extent at least, in the UK. The realisation that the current way of being is not working and is deeply unhealthy on many levels struck many after the economic crash of 2008. Lots of people lost much of their wealth, their status, sometimes even their homes in the US in the aftermath of that crash. This lead to a questioning by many of the assumptions that consumer society is based on. Do we really need to live in such large houses? Do we need the gas guzzler? Do we need to go to supermarkets to buy plastic wrapped food soaked in salt, sugar and various chemical concoctions when we can produce good, wholesome and healthy food ourselves?

Such thinking is beginning to question some of the most fundamental assumptions that Western society has lived by for the best part of a century or more. More is always better is being challenged by those of us who appreciate minimalism; big governance and its centralised model which tends to favour industry and corporations (and itself, of course!) is now being seen as part of the problem, not part of the solution; the notion that one needs to be a ‘success’ in material terms is now perceived by many to be a form of neurosis rather than anything positive or life affirming. The times clearly are a-changing, as Bob Dylan once famously wrote.
Back here in the Smiley Frog restaurant a pleasant hour has passed and the place has become a virtual hive of very slow motion activity. A lass clad in turquoise smiles over to me as she continues to soporifically mop the tiles. The waitresses listen to a Thai talk show and studiously avoid eye contact hoping that the few customers they do have will go away. The gardener (he does a great job, even if he does it very, very slowly) wanders back and forth trying to find something that might need his attention.
As I finish the blog for another week, I find myself pondering the possibility of a trip up to Laos at the end of the month. Some Thai people apparently are of the opinion that the Loatian people are lazy. Given the soporific pace of life here, Lao laziness must be something to behold...

Leaving on a Jet Plane...

 “No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow. ” 

Lin Yutang

It seems that, after a mere four week break, that my more far-flung flaneurial duties will be once more resumed in the coming weeks with trips to South China and Thailand. It is a tough job, but someone's gotta do it. In the meantime, I spent the weekend preparing the few odds and sods needed for such a trip. This task was not particularly onerous, chiefly consisting of the obtaining of sufficient funds to get by in my first few weeks in China. This is something one needs to arrange before visiting that particular country, unless one enjoys the hour and a half proceedings that tend to occur every time one endeavours to change money in a Chinese bank in any place other than the most obvious of tourist destinations.
If one already has visas and insurance in place, then it is a simple matter to prepare for such a trip, even when that trip is planned over a period of months rather than weeks. I am sometimes asked by friends and relatives how I set about these things. The answer is surprisingly straightforward; once one has completed such technicalities as visas, insurance and funds, it is simply a matter of getting on a train, then a plane, then….well, that's it...really, that is all there is to it. In the interconnected world in which we live today, such travel is no longer that much of a challenge. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that the biggest part of the challenge is the ennui of long journeys on aircraft. Personally, I usually find the 'entertainment' on offer through various films and TV shows very dull, the films being almost invariably of the more commercial type, popular but vacuous. Every now and then a little gem somehow sneaks in, but often as not I scarcely bother these days. Thank heavens for the invention of the e-reader! With this in hand I find I can happily wile away many an hour tucking into the delights of Henry Miller or Anais Nin, or any one of about fifty authors that I am currently indulging in, whilst suspended 40,000 feet above the planet's surface.
In retrospect, I think that the return to the UK at this time of year was perhaps not the best notion that every crossed my mind. The pleasurable part has been catching up with various friends. Oddly, it seems to matter little how far one has travelled or what adventures one has indulged in, on return such relationships, after an obligatory handshake or hug, return to much the same as they were before. This is something that I appreciate very much. Time and distance seem to make little difference, the core of such friendships remains essentially unaffected.
The country itself...hmm, let us just say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, whilst confrontation with the reality of its fundamentally parochial nature, its class struggles, its asinine politics and, on a more banal note, just how cold it is this time of year, soon dissipate one's delusions about the place. The UK can be a very beautiful country, from the end of April to the end of September. If one is fortunate, even October can be reasonably pleasant, the rest of the year it is a struggle simply to survive the cold, the wet, the wind, the mud, the ice and the snow. The days themselves are incredibly short at this time of year, seemingly consisting of a sunrise and a sunset, with scarcely anything in between.
The inward-looking nature of the country can also be a tad wearisome, the somewhat dated beliefs as to its significance bearing little relation to today's reality. There was a time, many, many moons ago now, when Britain was indeed very influential on a global scale. Whether this influence was at all beneficial is another matter. Much of what was done in the name of Empire now looks very dubious with the benefit of hindsight. Numerous examples spring to mind: running India as a company, rather than as a country, the Opium War in which we forced the Chinese to import the drug in return for access to their markets (tea, interestingly, in particular), our efforts in Africa (such dubious efforts as the setting up of the first concentration camps by the British in the course of the Boer War – not as fundamentally awful, admittedly, as later iterations, but still very unpleasant), and...well, I could go on, but suffice it to say that much of the British contribution was not exactly positive in nature, mainly consisting of a ruthless exploitation of raw materials and local populations. Much of the 'civilising' influence claimed was something of an afterthought, the very notion betrays a level of smugness that looks remarkably ill-founded given the pecuniary motivation for almost all of the British interventions.
To be fair, almost every country one visits suffers from similar delusions as to its own influence. America seems to be forever wagging a finger at the rest of the World and lecturing about human rights, whilst conveniently ignoring them on their own escapades around the globe. The Japanese to this day remain in denial of the nature of their occupations during World War Two, a subject that causes much friction with its Asian neighbours. The Chinese and the Russians adopt a slightly different approach wherein they portray themselves as forever victims of foreign aggression, conveniently ignoring the fact that their own leaders were responsible for far more suffering than any invading armies ever inflicted.
And so it goes…
Personally, I rather liked the words of the venerable Thomas Paine on nationalism. This old Thetfordian (interestingly, as I write these words, I am a mere few hundred feet from his birthplace) simply stated:
“My country is the world, and my religion is to do good.”
I could not argue with such noble sentiments.

Loitering without intent

Loitering without intent....

This evening I find myself once again in the delightful surrounds of Cafe do Coral but an altogether different branch of the said concession. This one is in the 'village' of Chang An, a suburb of Dongguan just north of Shenzhen (and that, in turn, just north of Hong Kong, for those who wish to locate the village on a map). I think even the Chinese would struggle to call this place a village in this day and age being, as it is, the home to somewhere in excess of one million souls. On the other hand, the Chinese would not call it a city either. A mere million inhabitants just about makes it to town status in this part of the world. Cities by Chinese standards don't really start until the population of said metropolis is in excess of four to five million. By such a measure, one and only one British 'city' would qualify for that status in modern China - and that is London itself!

Back in the cafe, music tinkers softly in the background which, thankfully, is not of the 'Christmas' variety but rather various strains of what is known as 'easy listening'. To be fair, if I have to listen to such fayre whilst indulging in an Americano, I think this kind of piano base remix of 60's hits is not the least pleasant. Indeed, much as it pains me, I have to admit to quite enjoying some of the renditions, in particular 'The Sounds of Silence' (chance would be a fine thing!) and 'Scarboro' Fair'. It tends to have the effect of allowing me to muse amiably over my flaneurial activities of the day.

 Much of the time was spent sauntering around the streets and parks of this somewhat overcrowded yet still quite pleasant town. Fortunately, the town planners had the foresight to include several generous green spaces which render some relief from the otherwise oppressive constancy of the sun and the traffic. I have to say, Chang An is really quite a pleasant town to saunter around, if one is given to such sauntering activities. There is indeed an art to walking in this way wherein the point of the walk is the walk itself and not the destination. Naturally, this is also the art of the flaneur – slowly walking through town without a sense of purpose or a place to go to but with an omnipresent openness to the experience itself.

According to Thoreau, that great American thinker of the 19^th century, the word 'saunter' owes it derivation to the France of the Middle Ages. There were men who roved around the country and sought charity claiming that it was to enable them to go to the Holy Land, or 'a la Saint Terre'. Over time, when children saw such a person, they would should out 'There goes a Sainte-Terre,' a Saunterer, a Holy-Lander. Those who were merely pretending to extract charity were indeed mere idlers and vagabonds but there are those who are saunterers in the good sense, they literally go to a 'holy land' of sorts. 

Another derivation quoted by Thoreau again comes from the French 'sans terre', meaning without land or home. These days I find myself very much in this latter category but... it has proven to be not entirely disagreeable in itself, although perhaps not for everyone. 'Saunter' in this sense also implies to be able to be equally at home wherever one finds oneself, or to misquote Paul Young: Wherever you lay your hat...that's your home!

Sunday afternoon in Chang An is the end of the week and many hard working Chinese citizens enjoy a stroll through the town's parks on this day. Come on a weekday and you will more or less have the space to yourself and a choice of pleasant places to sit and contemplate, meditate, ruminate or simply sunbathe, whatever takes your fancy. On a Sunday however, places to rest are at a premium so most spend the time slowly sauntering beneath the trees smiling amiably to all and sundry.

It is noticeable how much more relaxed he people are, how much more amiable, when they are not obsessed with getting from A to B but are quite happy with A or, if they happen to find themselves in B, likewise. A stroll without purpose - for truly the purpose of the stroll is contained within the act of strolling itself. I look at them, they look at me, we exchange the odd 'Ni Hao' with each other, everyone smiles and seems content with their lot. This amiability is in stark contrast to the rest of the week when the general populace here seems to be in such a hurry that they will happily risk life and limb, yours as well as theirs, in order to gain a few precious seconds and get ahead in 'the race'.

Ah, the busyness of business! The modern Chinese culture is no different to the West in these ways. We are exhorted on all sides and throughout our lives to work hard, be busy, to go get. Apparently, you must have a purpose and must strive unceasingly to fulfil that purpose. And pray, when one fulfils that purpose, what to do then? Why, take on another, even harder one, of course!

 We are told that life is a rat race. In order to be successful we must learn to be ratty enough – to strive, to scurry, to ever give the appearance of busy-ness but...who truly wants to live like a rat? Apparently, there are those that do. There are some who relish the tooth and nail competitiveness of it all. Forever chasing after glistening baubles that seem so tempting from afar. Doing down their competitors by fair means or foul, striving forever to climb to the top of the pile. When said baubles are pocketed though, and one finds oneself seated atop such a pile, it often happens that the glistening that tempted one in the first place turns out not to be gold at all, but merely another encumbrance, another complication, another meaningless commitment to pour one's all too finite energies into. Seated atop the pile instead of friends you have competitors, instead of happiness anxiety, instead of satisfaction the ongoing obligation to defend what you have. Is this state of affairs really something we should strive for, really something we should desire?

Many years ago, the then French Prime Minister, Edith Cresson, on a state visit to Japan, was asked if she admired the economic success of the Japanese at that time. She thought for a second, sighed, and then replied: “It's all very well, but who wants to live like an ant!”

It was hugely controversial at the time, causing a huge diplomatic incident between the two countries but one has to admit she had a point. Watching the British in London or the Chinese in Shanghai or the Japanese in Tokyo queueing in their millions to be stuffed into already overcrowded carriages and carried off to places they really don't want to go (and this process sometimes goes on for 30 years or more)  has to give one at least a small pause for thought. Is the carrot of a few material baubles really worth selling one's all too brief time on this planet for? You may indeed end up with a bigger house, a bigger car and lots of 'stuff' to look after but it will  have taken so much of your existence to pay for it. There has to be a better way.

Meanwhile, it is now closing time in the cafe and I risk being the very last customer. The floors are mopped, the kitchen cleaned and even some of the lights have been extinguished. They really are very polite here but I think it is high-time to curtail my verbal saunterings for another week and let the staff return home to their loved ones and to some well-earned rest.

Wan An!

Working ourselves to death...

Saturday morning in Kanchanaburi catching up on the news from the UK on the BBC. Seems that yet another storm has shed yet more rain on an already saturated Britain. I find myself feeling almost guilty as I look up through the eaves of the Jolly Frog to the relentlessly blue sky beyond. This is the place that started the backpacking boom in this part of Thailand. It is looking a little dilapidated now and probably needs a facelift but... there is something comforting and really rather pleasant in its state of easy going neglect. The main eating area consists of a vast roof supported on tree trunks, the sides completely open which tends to lend a freshness to the place which is aided and abetted by several huge fans hanging from the ceiling. Plants have run wild over time and now hang down in curtains of creepers that create natural partitions between parts of the restaurant (that seems too grand a word for this place – maybe 'cafe' would be more accurate).

This has become my favourite place to write during my month in Kanchanaburi. I order the requisite coffee for the princely sum of 20 baht and usually a watermelon smoothie and some roles (no butter, as I am presently experimenting with veganism) to supply the much needed refreshment that this process requires. The whole lot totals some 65 baht (roughly £1.20), not at all bad. I remember some years ago, in my early flaneurial days, having a coffee in St. Marks Square in Venice – the coffee alone was somewhere in excess of £5. I have to admit though, the setting was wonderful!

Life is indeed very relaxing in this part of the world. There is an easy going ambience that pervades so much of life here. The people are friendly and generous, the culture interesting and the flora and fauna fascinating. It certainly feels very different after China with its feverish chasing after economic success. I am told that Japan, in many ways, is even worse. Despite the success of the economy in China it seems that people are required to chase ever harder just to keep up. Rather than bringing increasing leisure and other benefits to the society, the vast majority find themselves required to work longer and longer hours while the benefits are reaped by a smaller and smaller section at the very top of the economic pyramid. This same process seems to have been experienced in many economies around the world. As a certain politician recently put it: "They used to say 'a rising tide lifts all boats'. Now the rising tide just seems to lift yachts."

This increasing insecurity for the general populace has been experienced particularly keenly in Japan with its deep acceptance of the work ethic and the fundamentally hierarchical structure of its society. After the sixties and seventies boom Japan found itself entering a prolonged period of economic stagnation which has only ended in very recent times. Job security became increasingly tenuous. People were required to work longer and longer hours, the extra time often being unpaid as the employees more or less felt obliged to work in such a way to keep their jobs. This eventually led to what started out as a typically Japanese reaction; the phenomenon of 'Karoshi'. The Japanese word 'Karoshi' can be simply translated as 'death due to overwork' although this does not tell the whole story. There is an element of suicide in this phenomenon, of deliberately working to the point of precipitating one's own demise.

This attitude to work is perhaps unique to the Japanese mentality although there have in recent times been examples in the West. Increasingly employers seem to have the same expectations as Japanese companies. The notion that your whole life should be based around your employment is implicit in these assumptions. Increasing economic insecurity, despite the recent turn around in Western economies, has led to the expectation that people will indeed work longer and longer hours simply through the fear of losing their jobs.

A very close friend of mine had a job that required her to work thirty hours a week in a school in East London. Even though her hours were 8 in the morning until 3 in the afternoon, with one hour's unpaid lunch, she often found herself working until half past three or even four. Some years ago her employer decreased her hours to 25 per week but, oddly, she still found herself working from 8 in the morning until well after 3 in the afternoon. A year or two later the hours were further decreased to 20 per week. Hmm, I think it is unnecessary for me to repeat here as you'll have worked out how this 'reduction' actually functioned. Now she works 18 hours a week. She often starts before 8 in the morning now and often finds herself there until after five at night, five days a week. Mathematics have never been my strong point but I am pretty sure that works out to something substantially in excess of 18 hours a week.

I see my friend when I am back in the UK. She is a decent, honest person with a sensitive and intelligent nature. Every time I see her she looks a little more tired, a little more strained. Occasionally I will talk to her about this process. She understands what is happening but feels obliged to go along with it. So many these days feel themselves trapped in such situations. It may not quite be Karoshi but it is not far from it. We often hear businessmen and politicians, particularly those of the right, arguing for 'more flexible work practices'. Another fine sounding euphemism! What is actually desired by such folk is the power to demand more and more for less and less, often relying on job insecurity as a way of squeezing blood out of a stone.

It seems to be rarely pointed out but there is something fundamentally unsound in all of this, something fundamentally wrong. The shortcomings of the Japanese 'work until you drop' philosophy were amply demonstrated during WW2. Recently I visited the 'Death Railway' near the small town I am staying in, Kanchanaburi. The railway was built using allied Prisoners of War and Asian workers (Romusha) from occupied territories. Those unfortunate to find themselves working on this project were subject to the most awful privations and, frankly, quite inhuman treatment by the Japanese. They were ill-fed, brutalised and overworked. Very shortly the men would weaken and fall ill because of the demands placed upon them. As this continued their productivity dropped. Working when you are tired, in pain and underfed is pretty commonly accepted not to be the ideal I think. The Japanese response? They worked people harder, fed them less, imposed longer hours, etc. To the mentality of the Japanese captors this made sense. The result? The project fell further and further behind schedule as the decreasing workforce found itself under greater and greater pressure. Maybe there is a lesson here?

Visiting the site of these atrocities one is struck with just how peaceful it is now. Indeed, one may even say that the views from Hellfire Pass are beautiful – a huge valley through which the Kwai Noi river flows beneath the shade of lush forests and the most delicately exquisite flora that one could wish to see. All is quiet now and it is hard to imagine the kind of scenes that once gave the pass its name.

 Back in The Jolly Frog the cafe has become busier now and the day a little warmer. Ex-pats read newspapers with two day old articles about the terrible weather in the UK. Others, like myself, sit here tapping away at our laptops, communicating with a distant world so different from where we find ourselves. I slowly sip at my banana shake (one has to be aware of the need for constant hydration in 30+ degrees C) thinking about the implications of this piece. The unhappy world of job insecurity and virtual karoshi seem like they are from another and very bizarre reality. There has to be a better way...