kenny hodgart


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How the positivity industry prefers us to worry

This blog post can also be read at SCMP.COM –

http://www.scmp.com/comment/blogs/article/1830575/zero-sum-game-how-positivity-industry-prefers-us-worry

I’ve been receiving a torrent of communications from the positive thinking brigade lately. I don’t know what prompted it. Maybe it was something I googled. Or something I wrote on here: maybe I create such an impression of charlatanry that I’ve been fingered for susceptibility to charlatanry in general. Reader, how should I know?

At any rate, the email invites have been coming thick and fast: from mind coaches and self-belief gurus, character educators and positivity activators. They wish to show me the way, they say, to unbridled confidence, success, happiness. Some merely offer to help me build my “personal brand”.

As described in The Happiness Industry: How the Government and Big Business Sold Us Well-being, a recent book by a chap named William Davies, this is all very lucrative stuff. Vast operations are at work nowadays to benefit from making us worry – about how optimally engaged we are in our jobs; how fulfilled and confident we are in ourselves; in short, how brilliantly we’re doing. I doubt very much if the sum of human happiness is increased at all.

According to Davies some occupational psychologists are keen on companies sacking workers who do not show the proper enthusiasm for their advances. The Maoist tenor of that approach might sound a little extreme, but it does seem to chime with my experience on the handful of occasions when I have been forced by employers to attend motivational workshops and the like.

What I have noticed, see, is that for everyone in these situations who instinctively gets it, for everyone who has his or her self-belief calibrated the way the psychologists might desire, others are there out of fear: fear of not getting ahead; worse, of being left behind. Often they appear to have been ambushed by the notion that being bumptious and insufferable is the only way to get where they want to be.

Perhaps the idea that most frightens such people, then, is this: that self-belief and self-promotion may not in fact be enough, on their own, to guarantee making it to the top, that no matter how good your personal brand or your CV, unfortunately other factors, such as ability and, yes, connections, also come into play.

As an aside, a couple of years ago the veteran Washington Post writer Gene Weingarten published a memorable, if somewhat canting, riposte to a young journalist who had asked him how he’d built his personal brand. The main lesson was never to intimate that a columnist might be a self-publicist. However, Weingarten also railed, righteously, against the internet generation’s preoccupation with “eyeballs” and against that weasel thing “content” (which, lexicography being satire’s carousel, must – I submit – be ripe for replacement by the equally nebulous “ingredients”).

The point, sort of, is that brands are essentially shallow constructs – no matter how they’re dressed up in marketing’s “Vision, Mission, Values” b***cks. Online, though, everyone’s at it: the imperative is to demonstrate how fascinating and fabulous you are. Problem is, a world full of shiny, happy, self-confident people doesn’t ring all that true. No matter what the “science” of positive thinking says, and no matter how much we fake it, we can’t all be winners all of the time, can we?

Maybe it’s partly a question of upbringing: I was always taught not to bang on about myself, not to brag. If nothing else, socially it’s a killer – nobody’s really interested in people who are full of themselves; it’s the listeners and the empathisers who tend to make the best friends. And the same must go, I suppose, for the super-engaged and the super-motivated – the grown teacher’s pets who spend every waking moment composing work emails. How do they have lives?

We ought to worry, I think, for the future mental health of those toddlers we keep hearing about who have four-page CVs and are being put through kindergarten interviews. For most people, I imagine, the knowledge that the world does not revolve around oneself arrives as a blessed relief. Unfortunately, the plainest truths often run against the cultural grain.


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Overheard at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club

This blog post can also be read at SCMP.COM –

http://www.scmp.com/comment/insight-opinion/article/1823084/overheard-foreign-correspondents-club-handful-vignettes-hong

“Now George, I’ve said I’ll take care of this so behave yourself.” It’s late and two elderly English couples are trying to settle their bill. The women perch squiffily on their stools, looking about ready to drop off. George is putting up a valiant effort but it’s clear he’s losing ground. “This is my club, George, and when we go to your club you always pay for us.” And then comes the clincher: “It’s just Christian values, George. They might be unfashionable but that’s how I was brought up.” A reverential lull is allowed to fall on the conversation. “Christian bloody values.”


“I think we have to be wary of making FGM an issue about ‘us’ and ‘them’, you know,” says an Australian woman, loudly. “The whole attitude is very neo-colonial, don’t you think? I mean, who gets to decide that western ideas about sexual freedom are superior? Colonialism was all about male phallic dominance – we mustn’t encourage a colonialism of the clitoris.”


“It sounds just like the old days,” says the local Chinese journalist, referring to a recent flashpoint: the incident of the Swedish diplomat throwing a tantrum at staff after being denied a table for 12 guests. “In fact, some things haven’t moved on at all,” she tells her companions, three suited western males. “White people have always felt superior in this club, but foreign journalists are still paid more in Hong Kong, so what’s changed there?” The men sip their drinks and give the matter some thought. “Of course, the Vikings had a decent-sized empire,” offers one. “But they never made it this far east.”


A Scotsman is telling a story. “I’ve just come out my building and I’m walking down the hill,” he says. “And you know where those posh flats across the road are? Right, well I’m going past and something catches my eye, like something going down really quick. And I look over behind this skip on the road and there’s a guy lying there. His legs are all mangled and he’s not moving, and he’s, well he’s f***ing dead – there’s no point even checking for a pulse. What the f*** can you do? So, anyway, I call for an ambulance and – no kidding – the guy says they’re too busy and can I call back. Eventually I persuade him to take a note of where I’m calling from and hang up. Meanwhile, there’s a crowd of people gathered around the dead guy and they’re all out with their phones taking pictures. Seriously, I have no words.”


Something dabs the right corner of my vision like a damp cloth. I look across the bar and a couple are crying together; sotto voce, yet somehow unguardedly. Look away, instinct says – but these don’t seem like normal, private tears. He’s mid-40s, with an intent face, Western; she’s younger, Asian, but with a CNN accent gone slurry from wine. It’s 4pm. They’re insensibly sloshed, holding hands and, I realise, praying to the Almighty Lord. Through a cloud of ecstasy, I hear her call: “Help me, Jesus, to be my better self.” The bartender, on his rounds, sets a bowl of peanuts before them. “More drinks?” he asks.


“Well, y’see, when y’leave the place you can get lifetime membership,” says Jack. “That’s what I got – this here card. Just a piece of cardboard back in those days, with your number on it and the photograph. That’s me there. Yeah, well, I was considerably younger then. It’s been 20 years since we went home to America. Always wanted to come visit again, my wife and I, but we never did, God rest her soul. I’m here now, though. Yessir, I’m doing it like we said. Changes? Oh, you bet. Hey, but you know what? It’s like old Marcus Aurelius said – the universe is change. I’m just taking it all in. And y’know, the FCC is still standing. That’s something.”


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If Scotland ‘could’ make it alone, what about Hong Kong?

This blog post can also be read at SCMP.COM –

http://www.scmp.com/comment/blogs/article/1815637/if-scotland-could-make-it-her-own-what-about-hong-kong

In the long campaign that culminated with Scotland rejecting independence from the UK in a referendum last September, pro-Union politicians are held to have “gone negative”. Be that as it may (and hey, look, it’s a hard task making “No” sound positive), many of those same politicians – including British Prime Minister David Cameron – were frequently to be heard conceding that “of course Scotland could make it on her own” if she opted to.

Beyond population size, Scotland and Hong Kong aren’t closely comparable. What’s more, the idea of independence remains a somewhat specialised interest in Hong Kong in a way that it is no longer in Scotland. But still – try to imagine, just for a moment, the words “of course Hong Kong could make it on her own” sally from the mouth of any mainstream Hong Kong politician, pro-establishment or pan-democrat, let alone from the country’s actual head of government. Cannot? Fair enough – at times, that little word seems to wear well as the SAR’s unofficial motto.

It’s hard to say which goes first: aversion to the question or pessimism about the outlook for Hong Kong if it could somehow reject the first bit of “one country, two systems”. Equally hard is to discern whether those fears are more or less potent than the ones attendant on Hong Kong’s de facto assimilation into mainland China. Whatever, it’s not a discussion that is generally had without the shutters coming down. Without “preferential treatment” from the mainland, goes the coup de grace, Hong Kong would cease to benefit from its rise. Food supplies, water, energy, employment: all would be at risk. Uncoupled, we’d be isolated, bereft, screwed.

It may be a minor point of detail, but few of these contentions are cut-and-dried. “[In the unlikely event of Hong Kong declaring independence] I am not worried about food and water,” HKUST economist Carsten Holz’s tells me. “Food can be imported from anywhere in the world – anything that comes by container costs pretty much the same, no matter from where it comes. Water can be gained from the ocean.”

In terms of food, one might consider an end to import monopolies (Ng Fung Hong, anyone?) to be an economic good in itself. Reports also indicate Hong Kong pays way over the odds for the water it gets from the Dongjiang River and could better utilise what it collects in its own reservoirs. Meanwhile, on energy, there are cross-border power flows to meet supply shortages both ways, meaning that Hong Kong frequently exports electricity to Guangdong.

If you need a model for how these resource issues might be handled more efficiently by an independent Hong Kong, just consider that most solvent of Asian city-states, Singapore. Over the years the Lion City has drastically reduced its reliance on Malaysia through expanding its portfolio of LNG suppliers, pioneering urban agriculture and investing in water recycling, freshwater reservoirs and desalination.

The likely fate of Hong Kong’s financial industry is another matter. The sector is a huge beneficiary of the yuan’s internationalisation, of so-called dim sum bond trading, and of companies investing here in China-listed shares. The official rhetoric during the Occupy protests was that, if it came to it, Hong Kong could simply be bypassed in favour of other financial centres, whether off-shore or in China itself. The question begged is why that’s not happening already.

Instead, Chinese companies continue to raise far more in Hong Kong IPOs than they do on the mainland’s own exchanges. Most finance people will tell you that for all the veiled threats, the mainland still depends on Hong Kong for investment in and out just as much as Hong Kong depends on those same money flows. Hongkongers may be wary of Hong Kong becoming “just another Chinese city”, but the fact that it’s not – that it offers a stable investment environment, the rule of law and enforceable regulations – is what attracts foreign companies. Like Rabelais’ Gargantua waltzing a Chihuahua, the two sides dance around these issues.

For Holz, the big “unknown” is employment. “Much would depend on the mainland regime’s response to Hong Kong declaring independence,” he says. “If it blocked all ties, there would be an immediate and probably severe impact on employment in Hong Kong.” But, he adds: “I am not sure there would be such a drastic response as I suspect that many leading individuals in the regime have private interests in Hong Kong.”

Up until recently, any putative independence movement seemed little more than a straw man for official mouthpieces intent on promoting Article 23 sedition legislation. Such intent has, however, given grist to the mill of a growing “localism”. As we have seen with regard to the June 4 commemorations this year, younger pro-democracy activists question the point of championing democracy for mainland China when efforts in that direction have achieved so little to date. For many living in a city where mainland money has helped push property and business rental prices to breaking point,“one country, two systems” begins to look more and more like a forced marriage.

As recently as Sunday, Beijing’s man, Basic Law Committee chairman Li Fei, made it clear it is almost as pointless to agitate for democratic rights in Hong Kong itself. Paving the way for Hong Kong to elect leaders who do not owe their mandate entirely to Beijing could not be tolerated, he acknowledged, as this would be to assent to Hong Kong evolving as a separate political entity. In that sense, concessions on electoral reform might be likened to devolution, which in Britain was meant to settle questions of political legitimacy but instead freed the constitutional genie from its bottle. To mix the metaphor somewhat, that bottle is still being shaken up – as Beijing is likely to have observed.

“The idea of independence is like narcotics,” was Exco member Arthur Li Kwok-cheung’s warning on the subject in March. Narcotics can be harmful, of course, but sometimes liberating too. They also tend to be illegal. Talk of independence isn’t, yet. It may be the unlikeliest of outcomes for Hong Kong – but that doesn’t mean the city shouldn’t have its eyes fully open to what it might mean.


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The gospel according to Mr Magic Miracles

You can also read this blog post at SCMP.COM –

http://www.scmp.com/comment/blogs/article/1802903/more-life-money-gospel-according-famous-mr-magic-miracles-mover-and

Mr Magic Miracles is explaining to me how the interests of business and health are inimical. “You charge a lot of money, you decide you don’t want to make the patient better,” he says. “You just want him to come back and pay you more money. Me, I cure people instead. Too much money, I don’t need.”

It occurs to me to that “Miracles” as he most frequently refers to himself, might be on the cusp of some kind of revelation – an outlier’s indictment of social good being thrown over for cartel interests, or some such. But he’s driving, and I don’t wish to distract his attention from the large scrapbook of testimonials he is now excitedly leafing through at the wheel for my benefit.

In an excellent column in the newspaper last week, Peter Guy pondered whether predatory capitalism must always prevail over the common interest in Hong Kong. The city, he wrote, “is obsessed with wealth and its symbols. There isn’t much more to the Hong Kong psyche besides making money.”

I won’t venture to gainsay Peter’s pessimism. There is a spirit of well-reasoned wisdom about it. But still – here I am in Miracles’ van and he is preaching rather a different gospel.

According to his card, Miracles, aka Patrick Yan Kin Lam, is a “mover and healer”. I’ve been helping a friend to move house; the job’s a good ‘un and Miracles is dropping me off. That’s the moving part. Now he’s telling me about his magic powers.

“Everything is connected,” he says. “My technique is like a massage. Something is blocked in the body, it causes pain – I find the blockage and re-open it. No medicines, no herbs, nothing. I learned this by myself. By experience I can find the blockage. ”

A spry 63, Miracles’ story begins 30 years ago, with a friend who was suffering from chronic back ache. “Many times, doctors treat him, but none of them can help. Common sense tells me I must be able to help my friend. He trusted me – and so I tried to use my own way. And it works! After a few times practising on him, no pain.”

In the early days, it took Miracles 10-12 minutes to send his patients into remission. Nowadays, two minutes is usually long enough. “Two minutes!” he yelps. He can hardly believe it himself.

The scrapbook is a catalogue of satisfaction. Miracles’ clients are Chinese, Western, Japanese, Russian, Filipino. Their ailments range from back injuries and sciatica to bad sinuses, colds, high fever and insomnia. There is a woman who had been told she’d soon be in a wheelchair – cured. A man plagued by sporting injuries has been able to extend his footballing career. He signs off “Marlon Brando”, but the entries appear genuine and all include phone numbers.

The medical establishment is not, as a rule, interested in the likes of Miracles, but that hasn’t stopped doctors coming to him with their own complaints. “One was a chiropractor,” he says. “He couldn’t touch his toes. After Miracles – perfect. I found some dead air inside his spine and I used my finger to force it out, to get rid of the dead air. I don’t expect professional doctors to understand this – they do not research dead air.”

I ask him about the removals business. Wouldn’t he better off phasing it out and focusing on his healing work?

“Moving business is OK,” he says. “I can support myself, support my family. I don’t want to retire. What are you doing with your life, retired? Playing mahjong? From time to time I hurt my back, but providing I can reach, I can fix myself. Miracles is word-of-mouth – any treatment is HK$300. But it’s no use for business, because my patients only come once. To me, it’s against my conscience anyway – human beings should help one another.”

My stop is up ahead, but Miracles pulls the van over at a 7/11, jumps out and returns moments later with a can of Blue Girl. “For you,” he says. “My VIP customer, ah! Tell your friends about Magic Miracles.” I find myself quite disheartened at having no medical infirmities to be cured.

 

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