As I write this on Monday, ex-president Suharto is in intensive care and has been given a 50-50 chance of survival. What does that mean when you are in your late 80s? Surely everyone's chances of survival are ultimately zero? The old boy's had a good innings though for sure. Certainly he made it to a riper old age than the million plus whose journeys ended in the orgy of violence of 1966, the catalyst that saw Mr S. rise to power in the first place.
Trying to gauge public opinion last week on everyone's favorite English language personal abuse forum, Jak Chat, I found mixed sentiments in evidence. There were those trying to cast the man's achievements as, "The father of development," in a favorable light to someone else's prediction that, "If you gave this man an enema you could bury him in a matchbox," (actually that one was mine but keep it under your hat). Some wit had posted up a little vignette involving SBY visiting the old boy in hospital and the ex-president wheezing like Darth Vader through his ventilator, "SBY... I am your father." Very witty Oscar, although possibly there is a serious point here behind the jape, namely Susilo BY's rather risible and offensive suggestion that the whole nation pray for Suharto. Not national awakening but a national wake.
In fact Mr. S has himself been thinking along spiritual lines and is reported to have had his bed turned in the direction of Mecca. In my secular humanist opinion though, his best bet would be to hope that the great bearded one in the sky doesn't exist and come join us lovable atheists down the pub. If not I reckon that it could be a trip down to the cellar for our man.
As for the father of development argument though, let's take a closer look at the evidence. During the 31 years that Mr S. was in power, the whole of the developing world, including this region, was also expanding at a fast clip. Many of those countries could be said to have made a better job of the whole deal than this one. The bloodshed and Indonesia's 1998 financial plummet are not great marks on the old man's celestial report card. The whole of the rich world was rushing to invest in Southeast Asia throughout the 70s and 80s and so did he have to do much more than stick up a sign at Sukarno-Hatta saying, "Indonesia now open for business, no more Konfrontasi or pinko shenanigans guaranteed folks."
Also, bearing in mind that about half of this country live below the UN mandated poverty line, you have to ask the question, "Development by who for who?" The almost nihilistic plundering of resources via the weapons of unfettered capitalism did indeed develop this nation. Only one resource was perhaps neglected - the human one. Perhaps though, the still lingering Suharto legacy of anti-intellectualism was a necessary precondition for facilitating the embezzlement of more money than any other leader in world history. Sounds logical to me.
However, I seem to be getting carried away with myself. What I really wanted to report was that last Monday I popped into Rumah Sakit Pertamina, handily near my office, to check out what was going on. Now, Pertamina Hospital is somewhere that I have myself spent time, although with slightly less media attention and, I would assert, considerably more repellent food at my disposal than the great helmsman. It was a slightly creepy nostalgia trip for me then.
When I arrived, the cameras, reporters and policemen were crowding the entrance and generally inconveniencing outpatients trying to get in for their checkups. I waited around for a bit to see what would happen and sure enough, after about 20 minutes, a fancy car pulled up and out stepped former Malaysian PM Mahathir Mohamad. It was once said of the heavily eye lidded author Salman Rushdie that he resembles a hawk looking through a set of Venetian blinds. Mahatir, with his rather inscrutable, sour faced expression is seemingly cut from the same cloth in this respect.
Anyway, the old man shuffled in amid a mêlée of blazing flashbulbs and was gone. I decided to call it quits and headed back to the office for a bracing can of Pocari Sweat and a plate of rice (the champagne is still on ice you understand). It's strange though that this Indonesian media fascination with Mr S's inner workings, haemoglobin counts, colon condition and blood in faeces etc has been dragging on now for about five years. Why this obsession with the old man's guts? I reckon that at some unconscious level a lot of the Indonesian public dream of seeing this man eviscerated and feasted on by vultures.
Later, on Wikipedia, I learnt that during his early life, Mr S., "Is believed to have had little interest in anti-colonialism or political concerns beyond his immediate surroundings." This certainly makes sense if you believe that a lack of ideological underpinnings to a man's character can allow his corrupt side to run rampant. Wikipedia also informs inquisitive web surfers that, "Like many Javanese, Suharto has only one name." Well so do God, Sting, Satan and Cher; I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions.
Ultimately, he was a wily man for sure and for three decades his method of co-opting a few of his more powerful opponents while criminalizing the rest proved a winning formula and one whose legacy is still with us. Keep praying everyone. See you next time.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Here Comes the Sun
I hope you all had an enlightening Christmas break and are invigorated and refreshed to face the challenges of another year as opposed to trudging around the office like a brokenhearted zombie, as I am. I did have an enjoyable holiday however. Java and Bali were under a constant deluge over the festive season which evidently seemed to culminate in all the usual death, destruction and landslides. Bali holiday makers had a slightly damp time of things and a friend of mine in Kuta texted me to inform me that the beach was temporarily closed and that he actually saw a dead pig washed up on the sands. A message from Allah, no doubt, inveighing against the evils of the two-piece bathing suit.
I opted for Lombok however, which turned out to have been a lucky choice as things were rather sunnier over there. It didn't start out so well though. I landed at Mataram in the middle of a huge downpour and, despite being provided with a handsome Lion Air umbrella, got soaked on way from the plane into the terminal building.
Christmas Day also proved to be pretty dire as the rain kept coming down. I hadn't yet hooked up with my friends and, the icing on the cake; I had to negotiate the rude and aggressive hustlers at Bangsal port as I attempted to catch a public boat to Gili Trawangan. "Ha ha Mr, may be no more public boat today, you can sleep in the street here until tomorrow, ha ha." Charming fellows indeed.
Things picked up in the Gilis though. The three tiny islands off Lombok's north-west coast are a popular drawl for tourists with their desert island beaches, coral reef diving, evening parties and lack of motor vehicles.
On the main island of Trawangan, horses and carts trot gently along the main strip of restaurants, bars and hotels next to the stunning views of Gunung Rinjani on the mainland which are afforded from Trawangan's beaches. My chums and I managed to spend five dreamy days, snorkelling, eating, walking, watching the Christmas football fixtures and indulging in oneiric mushroom trips. Paradise. It's like a mini Bali without the Ozzie Surfers assaulting one senses. I'll certainly be back again in the future.
After the Gilis, we headed back to the mainland, scored some funds from the ATMs of Mataram and headed into the south of Lombok, the territory of the indigenous Sasak people. After rocking up at Kuta Beach, I was immediately struck by the contrast with its more illustrious namesake across the water in Bali. Whereas Kuta-Bali is densely jammed with humanity and as overdeveloped as Jakarta, Kuta-Lombok is a meditative paradise of spectacular scenery, deserted white sandy beaches and..... well, that's about it, what more do you want for pity's sake? Boorish happy hours? Ludicrously expensive surf clothing outlets? A Circle K every 10 yards?
Lombok's south coast is blissfully free of all this extraneous flotsam and is the real natural paradise that the slightly tarnished island across the water claims to be. The only potential spoiler is the possibility of having your stuff pinched from the beach whilst you go for a paddle, which has apparently proved problematic here in the past. I guess that's the price you pay for the relatively small amount of tourist development in Lombok, so keep an eye on that backpack.
Once again though, Kuta-Lombok threw my nagging feeling of ambivalence towards tourist development into sharp relief. Tourism is a fantastic potential source of revenue for a relatively impoverished local economy such as the one in South Lombok. On the other hand, sitting watching a spectacular sunset in an equally spectacular bay in the Kuta area, I couldn't help wishing that the inevitable tide of noisy beachside cafes and the accompanying hordes of goodtime tourists could somehow be held back from spoiling the idyll I was enjoying. A completely untenable, hypocritical position may be. I mean what was I if not a good time tourist?
On the other hand though, Western tourists perhaps expect too much these days. Who needs every resort to be an identikit mishmash of neon lit bars and satellite TV availability? Whatever happened to the thrill of being a dog-eared traveler washing up somewhere seldom frequented by Uncle Whitey? Alas, that On the Road/Dharma Bums Jack Kerouac quest for a natural Nirvana seems to be dying and backpacks are being swapped for suitcases by the current younger generation of lifestyle choice package tourists. Will the great spirit of adventure recover from this onslaught of indiscriminate, media fuelled hedonism? Or are those days, inevitably, over forever?
The peace and tranquillity of Lombok afforded me a genuine chance to unwind and de-stress myself. Two weeks in Kuta, Bali and I'd need another holiday just to get over my holiday.
After my inner chakras had been re-harmonised, returning to Jakarta came as a somewhat rude awakening and, on top of that, the roads have been pockmarked with lunar craters by the recent heavy rains. I'll be back to my old self with more neurotic tales from Pertamina-ville next week folks. Stay dry everyone.
I opted for Lombok however, which turned out to have been a lucky choice as things were rather sunnier over there. It didn't start out so well though. I landed at Mataram in the middle of a huge downpour and, despite being provided with a handsome Lion Air umbrella, got soaked on way from the plane into the terminal building.
Christmas Day also proved to be pretty dire as the rain kept coming down. I hadn't yet hooked up with my friends and, the icing on the cake; I had to negotiate the rude and aggressive hustlers at Bangsal port as I attempted to catch a public boat to Gili Trawangan. "Ha ha Mr, may be no more public boat today, you can sleep in the street here until tomorrow, ha ha." Charming fellows indeed.
Things picked up in the Gilis though. The three tiny islands off Lombok's north-west coast are a popular drawl for tourists with their desert island beaches, coral reef diving, evening parties and lack of motor vehicles.
On the main island of Trawangan, horses and carts trot gently along the main strip of restaurants, bars and hotels next to the stunning views of Gunung Rinjani on the mainland which are afforded from Trawangan's beaches. My chums and I managed to spend five dreamy days, snorkelling, eating, walking, watching the Christmas football fixtures and indulging in oneiric mushroom trips. Paradise. It's like a mini Bali without the Ozzie Surfers assaulting one senses. I'll certainly be back again in the future.
After the Gilis, we headed back to the mainland, scored some funds from the ATMs of Mataram and headed into the south of Lombok, the territory of the indigenous Sasak people. After rocking up at Kuta Beach, I was immediately struck by the contrast with its more illustrious namesake across the water in Bali. Whereas Kuta-Bali is densely jammed with humanity and as overdeveloped as Jakarta, Kuta-Lombok is a meditative paradise of spectacular scenery, deserted white sandy beaches and..... well, that's about it, what more do you want for pity's sake? Boorish happy hours? Ludicrously expensive surf clothing outlets? A Circle K every 10 yards?
Lombok's south coast is blissfully free of all this extraneous flotsam and is the real natural paradise that the slightly tarnished island across the water claims to be. The only potential spoiler is the possibility of having your stuff pinched from the beach whilst you go for a paddle, which has apparently proved problematic here in the past. I guess that's the price you pay for the relatively small amount of tourist development in Lombok, so keep an eye on that backpack.
Once again though, Kuta-Lombok threw my nagging feeling of ambivalence towards tourist development into sharp relief. Tourism is a fantastic potential source of revenue for a relatively impoverished local economy such as the one in South Lombok. On the other hand, sitting watching a spectacular sunset in an equally spectacular bay in the Kuta area, I couldn't help wishing that the inevitable tide of noisy beachside cafes and the accompanying hordes of goodtime tourists could somehow be held back from spoiling the idyll I was enjoying. A completely untenable, hypocritical position may be. I mean what was I if not a good time tourist?
On the other hand though, Western tourists perhaps expect too much these days. Who needs every resort to be an identikit mishmash of neon lit bars and satellite TV availability? Whatever happened to the thrill of being a dog-eared traveler washing up somewhere seldom frequented by Uncle Whitey? Alas, that On the Road/Dharma Bums Jack Kerouac quest for a natural Nirvana seems to be dying and backpacks are being swapped for suitcases by the current younger generation of lifestyle choice package tourists. Will the great spirit of adventure recover from this onslaught of indiscriminate, media fuelled hedonism? Or are those days, inevitably, over forever?
The peace and tranquillity of Lombok afforded me a genuine chance to unwind and de-stress myself. Two weeks in Kuta, Bali and I'd need another holiday just to get over my holiday.
After my inner chakras had been re-harmonised, returning to Jakarta came as a somewhat rude awakening and, on top of that, the roads have been pockmarked with lunar craters by the recent heavy rains. I'll be back to my old self with more neurotic tales from Pertamina-ville next week folks. Stay dry everyone.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
May Old Acquaintance Be Forgot.
It seems that New Year's Eve will be shambling along tomorrow night in a fug of alcoholic kisses and hearty slaps on the back accompanied, of course, by a cardboard voluntary of horns. So it looks like I do actually have time to squeeze in another column before 2008 hoves into view like a rusty old clipper full of yesterday's tea.
I guess I've might have peaked too soon (story of my life) by looking back over 2007 in last week's column. Maybe, however, I can offer a few more brief words of kindly encouragement as many of you look forward to drinking your own wait in Vodka Martinis tomorrow evening and then resolve to give up booze the following day. Apparently the Babylonian New Year celebrations used to last for 11 days although I don't think I've got the time or stamina for such revelry.
Instead, I will no doubt be enjoying New Year's Day with a few Panadols and a monosyllabic grunt at the first, "Hello Mr," of 2008 to be gratuitously lobbed in my direction like a misfiring December the 31st firecracker.
Januaries, in general, were depressing affairs in my youth. The fun holidays were over and there was only the freezing weather to look forward to until spring poked his head through the clouds. At least it's warm in Indonesia the year-round although come February I may be having to head off to work in a rubber dinghy as I did in 2007.
I think though, that I should throw my weight behind the country’s 2008 visit Indonesia year and it's grammatically contentious slogan, "Celebrating 100 Years of Nation's Awakening," which is currently being corrected at the cost of many thousands of dollars... ho-hum.
Our beloved red-and-white republic can certainly improve on the 5 million odd visitors who made it here last year. And let's face it, tourism is a far more egalitarian method of distributing money throughout a country such as this than other forms of investment. At least those tourist dollars go straight to the lowest echelons of the citizenry as opposed to being creamed off by central government and local bureaucrats as is the case with oil or mining for example.
The tourist infrastructure outside Bali really isn't that great however and certainly won't be improving massively in the one-day left before the 100 Yearses of Nations Awakenings Celebrationings begin in earnest. With this in mind, maybe the tourist board should try making a virtue out of a vice. The poor facilities of the country's far-flung tourist pleasure spots could be marketed as a challenge for the new generation of Amazing Race watching, skydiving, extreme sporting psychos currently running around the planet with their all-weather iPods.
One can imagine the tourist campaign:
-Been rafting over the Niagara Falls? Scaled Everest? Been sand yachting in Oman? Well come to Indonesia and experience the challenge of a lifetime trying to down a plate of spaghetti Bolognese that resembles rubber bands in cat sick as the sun set spectacularly over the faecal sump of the toilet block. Spend a few hours relaxing in a damp room full of cockroaches and mosquitoes before embarking on a torchlit night Safari into the ecological wonderland of your attached Mandi . Yes come to the Republic of Indonesia, a real challenge for real travelers (service charge not included).
But I'm being facetious here though (surprise surprise). In fact, I rather like the rural charms of outback Indonesia and would hate it if idylls such as Bunaken or Lake Toba became as overdeveloped as Legian is. Going loco is all part of the experience and it just wouldn't be the same if these places were dotted with Circle K's. The locals would probably disagree with me here though as increased tourist development and revenues are their potential ticket out of a life of grinding poverty.
There must be a middle ground though. Sustainable tourism and all that? Alas sustainability is not a word that (yet) has much currency in this country but we can all live in hope; it’s New Year after all.
Enjoy your celebrations then one and all, wherever you may be. Above all take heart if you're holidaying somewhere out in the wilds of this great country. There will always be a gritty coffee and banana pancake in the morning to ease that hangover on January the first.
I guess I've might have peaked too soon (story of my life) by looking back over 2007 in last week's column. Maybe, however, I can offer a few more brief words of kindly encouragement as many of you look forward to drinking your own wait in Vodka Martinis tomorrow evening and then resolve to give up booze the following day. Apparently the Babylonian New Year celebrations used to last for 11 days although I don't think I've got the time or stamina for such revelry.
Instead, I will no doubt be enjoying New Year's Day with a few Panadols and a monosyllabic grunt at the first, "Hello Mr," of 2008 to be gratuitously lobbed in my direction like a misfiring December the 31st firecracker.
Januaries, in general, were depressing affairs in my youth. The fun holidays were over and there was only the freezing weather to look forward to until spring poked his head through the clouds. At least it's warm in Indonesia the year-round although come February I may be having to head off to work in a rubber dinghy as I did in 2007.
I think though, that I should throw my weight behind the country’s 2008 visit Indonesia year and it's grammatically contentious slogan, "Celebrating 100 Years of Nation's Awakening," which is currently being corrected at the cost of many thousands of dollars... ho-hum.
Our beloved red-and-white republic can certainly improve on the 5 million odd visitors who made it here last year. And let's face it, tourism is a far more egalitarian method of distributing money throughout a country such as this than other forms of investment. At least those tourist dollars go straight to the lowest echelons of the citizenry as opposed to being creamed off by central government and local bureaucrats as is the case with oil or mining for example.
The tourist infrastructure outside Bali really isn't that great however and certainly won't be improving massively in the one-day left before the 100 Yearses of Nations Awakenings Celebrationings begin in earnest. With this in mind, maybe the tourist board should try making a virtue out of a vice. The poor facilities of the country's far-flung tourist pleasure spots could be marketed as a challenge for the new generation of Amazing Race watching, skydiving, extreme sporting psychos currently running around the planet with their all-weather iPods.
One can imagine the tourist campaign:
-Been rafting over the Niagara Falls? Scaled Everest? Been sand yachting in Oman? Well come to Indonesia and experience the challenge of a lifetime trying to down a plate of spaghetti Bolognese that resembles rubber bands in cat sick as the sun set spectacularly over the faecal sump of the toilet block. Spend a few hours relaxing in a damp room full of cockroaches and mosquitoes before embarking on a torchlit night Safari into the ecological wonderland of your attached Mandi . Yes come to the Republic of Indonesia, a real challenge for real travelers (service charge not included).
But I'm being facetious here though (surprise surprise). In fact, I rather like the rural charms of outback Indonesia and would hate it if idylls such as Bunaken or Lake Toba became as overdeveloped as Legian is. Going loco is all part of the experience and it just wouldn't be the same if these places were dotted with Circle K's. The locals would probably disagree with me here though as increased tourist development and revenues are their potential ticket out of a life of grinding poverty.
There must be a middle ground though. Sustainable tourism and all that? Alas sustainability is not a word that (yet) has much currency in this country but we can all live in hope; it’s New Year after all.
Enjoy your celebrations then one and all, wherever you may be. Above all take heart if you're holidaying somewhere out in the wilds of this great country. There will always be a gritty coffee and banana pancake in the morning to ease that hangover on January the first.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
What's Another Year
The holiday season is upon us and this year there's double fun to be had as the coincidence of Christmas and the Muslim holiday of Idul Adha gives all of us a chance for a nice break. Alas, in our house, the absence of traditional Christmas aromas such as mulled wine and turkey stuffing has been complemented by the pungent aroma of cattle and goat dung wafting across from the nearby market as the livestock are fattened up ready for the ritual slaughter. Mind you, in the West, a lot of turkeys will also be buying the farm about now.
And so another 12 months limps dejectedly to a close and the joys of 2008 will soon be upon us. What delights will be in store for us this year I wonder? An increasing series of environmental disasters perhaps? Further attacks on science by the forces of religious atavism? The rich/poor gap widening a bit further possibly? A bird flu pandemic that decimates the world? The further disintegration of our cultural heritage into five second attention spans soundbites and online social networking flotsam? Maybe there'll be an all-out, internecine Sunni/Shia war in the Middle East and if we're really lucky, Iran will build their Shia bomb to match Pakistan's Sunni nukes, and we'll all go up in a puff of isotopes. Er... okay sorry, I'll stop now. 'Tis the season to be merry and all that.
I trust that most of you have managed to escape the city, if only for a day or two, and are currently soaking up the sun somewhere gorgeous. As a Jakarta resident you owe it to yourself. So that was 2007 hey? Another fine year in Jakarta, Indonesia. We've had biblical floods in the capital, plane crashes, new busways causing chaos, a new governor elected and a climate change conference. The year has also just been rounded off by Coordinating Minister for People's Welfare, Mr. Bakrie, being declared the country's richest man. Although he's not rich enough, it would seem, to yet compensate victims of his company's mudflow disaster in central Java. Ho-hum, business as usual then.
But the negative nature of the newspaper headline and the TV bulletin is very much the nature of the news culture beast. The happy stuff comes at a more personal level. This year, I've managed to see more of Indonesia's stunning scenery by visiting Borneo and Sumatra. I've enjoyed lots of good food, quaffed some fine beverages, indulged in some hot lovin' and generally made hay while the sun shines.
I trust that many of you have also laughed in the face of world and national events and can tell tales of personal endeavor, victories both small and large, marriages, new friendships, sexual athleticism, interesting holidays and monumental hangovers. Suddenly life doesn't seem so bad ay?
Hopefully there'll be more room for fun and self-improvement next year. I've never been one for New Year's resolutions however. Most people who make them seem to regress from their good intentions and lapse back into old habits by about January the 11th. With this in mind, I managed to dig out a few quotes from the literary greats regarding the false light of optimism that beams around the planet at the dawn of the New Year.
Mark Twain once said that, "New Year's is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls and humbug resolutions." A bit of drunken promiscuity once in awhile is no bad thing I reckon but each to his own. Back across the Atlantic, good old Oscar Wilde said of New Year that, "Good resolutions are simply cheques that men draw on a bank where they have no account." Very witty Oscar.
Back to the present day, that incorrigible and still very much alive old goat P. J. O'Rourke once said that, “The proper behavior all through the holiday season is to be drunk; this drunkenness culminates on New Year's Eve when you get so drunk you kiss the person you're married to." The final word, however, goes to the less well-known 19th-century English diarist and critic James Agate, who once said that his New Year's resolution was, "To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time."
Happy holidays one and all.
And so another 12 months limps dejectedly to a close and the joys of 2008 will soon be upon us. What delights will be in store for us this year I wonder? An increasing series of environmental disasters perhaps? Further attacks on science by the forces of religious atavism? The rich/poor gap widening a bit further possibly? A bird flu pandemic that decimates the world? The further disintegration of our cultural heritage into five second attention spans soundbites and online social networking flotsam? Maybe there'll be an all-out, internecine Sunni/Shia war in the Middle East and if we're really lucky, Iran will build their Shia bomb to match Pakistan's Sunni nukes, and we'll all go up in a puff of isotopes. Er... okay sorry, I'll stop now. 'Tis the season to be merry and all that.
I trust that most of you have managed to escape the city, if only for a day or two, and are currently soaking up the sun somewhere gorgeous. As a Jakarta resident you owe it to yourself. So that was 2007 hey? Another fine year in Jakarta, Indonesia. We've had biblical floods in the capital, plane crashes, new busways causing chaos, a new governor elected and a climate change conference. The year has also just been rounded off by Coordinating Minister for People's Welfare, Mr. Bakrie, being declared the country's richest man. Although he's not rich enough, it would seem, to yet compensate victims of his company's mudflow disaster in central Java. Ho-hum, business as usual then.
But the negative nature of the newspaper headline and the TV bulletin is very much the nature of the news culture beast. The happy stuff comes at a more personal level. This year, I've managed to see more of Indonesia's stunning scenery by visiting Borneo and Sumatra. I've enjoyed lots of good food, quaffed some fine beverages, indulged in some hot lovin' and generally made hay while the sun shines.
I trust that many of you have also laughed in the face of world and national events and can tell tales of personal endeavor, victories both small and large, marriages, new friendships, sexual athleticism, interesting holidays and monumental hangovers. Suddenly life doesn't seem so bad ay?
Hopefully there'll be more room for fun and self-improvement next year. I've never been one for New Year's resolutions however. Most people who make them seem to regress from their good intentions and lapse back into old habits by about January the 11th. With this in mind, I managed to dig out a few quotes from the literary greats regarding the false light of optimism that beams around the planet at the dawn of the New Year.
Mark Twain once said that, "New Year's is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls and humbug resolutions." A bit of drunken promiscuity once in awhile is no bad thing I reckon but each to his own. Back across the Atlantic, good old Oscar Wilde said of New Year that, "Good resolutions are simply cheques that men draw on a bank where they have no account." Very witty Oscar.
Back to the present day, that incorrigible and still very much alive old goat P. J. O'Rourke once said that, “The proper behavior all through the holiday season is to be drunk; this drunkenness culminates on New Year's Eve when you get so drunk you kiss the person you're married to." The final word, however, goes to the less well-known 19th-century English diarist and critic James Agate, who once said that his New Year's resolution was, "To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time."
Happy holidays one and all.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Round and Round
As I write this the whole Bali climate conference shebang is nearing its end. The delegates will soon fly home to their respective countries and we'll all get on with leading the same wasteful, disposable lives spurred on by our unceasing competitive materialism and shallow one-upmanship. Shiny new cars and fancy goods will still be spilling off production lines and we’ll no doubt continue to be mollified by the objective purchasing power in our pockets.
The American writer Philip Roth in his famous and otherwise rather smutty book Portnoy's Complaint summed up our condition in one of my favourite quotes thusly:
“Society not only sanctions gross and unfair relations among men, but encourages them... rivalry, competition, envy, jealousy, all that is malignant in human character is nourished by the system. Possessions, money, property -- on such corrupt standards as these do you people measure happiness and success."
It's a pretty uncompromising quote admittedly but one that rings true of Indonesia and the world at large and perhaps one that is becoming increasingly relevant as we reach an environmental impasse.
This is all getting a bit heavy though isn't it? There must be some cause for optimism surely? Well perhaps. I recently stumbled upon an initiative that seems to be moving in the right direction, namely a website called Freecycle.
Now recycling is an old idea. Growing up in the UK (which was way behind the rest of Europe in terms of recycling at the time I might add) my family and I would nevertheless trudge dutifully along to the bottle bank every week to deposit our glassware. The wheels came off the wagon somewhat when I found out that it takes almost as much energy to make a bottle out of recycled glass as it does to make one from scratch. The point is though, that the recycling principle was sown in my young mind.
And now perhaps it is being sown in Indonesia's young mind. Freecycle is a global web site and its Indonesian branch was started in 2004. Basically, people post messages in which they state what they are giving away or make requests for certain items and wait for a reply. Everything is given away free, no money may change hands and new members to the site must offer something with their first posting as a gesture of good faith in Freecycle's principles.
Freecycle seems to offer Indonesia a radical new social paradigm. Partly in terms of the philosophy of recycling but also in the idea of getting something for nothing. In this country, where even hailing a taxi on a random street corner or parking your breakfast in a public convenience has been tapped as a source of income by some one dollar a day underclass chancer, to totally circumvent money in this way is something wholly new (or perhaps a very old?)
Anyway, I joined free cycle recently and posted up my first offer: what amounts to about three quarters of an old PC. Not a bad opening gambit I thought. I scrolled through a few of the other members offers and found such items as:
A key chain made from pewter from Thailand with a Muay Thai fighter picture on it.
And:
A 1980s Berlitz how to speak Spanish travel guide book.
I’m not sure who’s going to trudge halfway across town to pick up those two gems but perhaps someone would be interested. Alas, none of Indonesia's plutocrats seem to have joined the group and posted up their old BMWs but I live in hope.
Freecycle is apparently a fast-growing international movement and was founded in Tucson, Arizona. There are a few rules that should be followed on Freecycle however. Number one states that alcohol, tobacco, firearms or drugs are prohibited on a, "Two strikes and you're out of the group" basis. This strikes me as a bit weird though, when you consider that everything is free. I find it hard to imagine someone posting up a message saying, "I've got half a bottle of whisky in my house that I just can't bring myself to finish, so if anyone would like to come and pick it up..." There should also be no politics or personal attacks on the site although you are allowed to find new homes for pets.
The strangest rule though would have to be, "No Freecycling yourself or your children.” Freecyclers wishing to do this are instead directed to Internet dating sites and told to get their annoying kids, "Involved in after-school band practice," instead. Hmmm, they certainly seem to have all bases covered down at Freecycle don't they?
Actually, I guess you could use Freecycle in order to play a rather malicious trick on one of your pals. He certainly won't be best pleased when he gets home to find that his entire CD collection has been sacrificed to the ideological cause of global recycling.
Ultimately though, Freecycle represents a rather more humane approach to the recycling imperative than Jakarta urchins rummaging around for plastic bottles on stinking rubbish tips. Long may it prosper. Those interested in having a bash should point their browsers at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freecycle_jakarta.
The American writer Philip Roth in his famous and otherwise rather smutty book Portnoy's Complaint summed up our condition in one of my favourite quotes thusly:
“Society not only sanctions gross and unfair relations among men, but encourages them... rivalry, competition, envy, jealousy, all that is malignant in human character is nourished by the system. Possessions, money, property -- on such corrupt standards as these do you people measure happiness and success."
It's a pretty uncompromising quote admittedly but one that rings true of Indonesia and the world at large and perhaps one that is becoming increasingly relevant as we reach an environmental impasse.
This is all getting a bit heavy though isn't it? There must be some cause for optimism surely? Well perhaps. I recently stumbled upon an initiative that seems to be moving in the right direction, namely a website called Freecycle.
Now recycling is an old idea. Growing up in the UK (which was way behind the rest of Europe in terms of recycling at the time I might add) my family and I would nevertheless trudge dutifully along to the bottle bank every week to deposit our glassware. The wheels came off the wagon somewhat when I found out that it takes almost as much energy to make a bottle out of recycled glass as it does to make one from scratch. The point is though, that the recycling principle was sown in my young mind.
And now perhaps it is being sown in Indonesia's young mind. Freecycle is a global web site and its Indonesian branch was started in 2004. Basically, people post messages in which they state what they are giving away or make requests for certain items and wait for a reply. Everything is given away free, no money may change hands and new members to the site must offer something with their first posting as a gesture of good faith in Freecycle's principles.
Freecycle seems to offer Indonesia a radical new social paradigm. Partly in terms of the philosophy of recycling but also in the idea of getting something for nothing. In this country, where even hailing a taxi on a random street corner or parking your breakfast in a public convenience has been tapped as a source of income by some one dollar a day underclass chancer, to totally circumvent money in this way is something wholly new (or perhaps a very old?)
Anyway, I joined free cycle recently and posted up my first offer: what amounts to about three quarters of an old PC. Not a bad opening gambit I thought. I scrolled through a few of the other members offers and found such items as:
A key chain made from pewter from Thailand with a Muay Thai fighter picture on it.
And:
A 1980s Berlitz how to speak Spanish travel guide book.
I’m not sure who’s going to trudge halfway across town to pick up those two gems but perhaps someone would be interested. Alas, none of Indonesia's plutocrats seem to have joined the group and posted up their old BMWs but I live in hope.
Freecycle is apparently a fast-growing international movement and was founded in Tucson, Arizona. There are a few rules that should be followed on Freecycle however. Number one states that alcohol, tobacco, firearms or drugs are prohibited on a, "Two strikes and you're out of the group" basis. This strikes me as a bit weird though, when you consider that everything is free. I find it hard to imagine someone posting up a message saying, "I've got half a bottle of whisky in my house that I just can't bring myself to finish, so if anyone would like to come and pick it up..." There should also be no politics or personal attacks on the site although you are allowed to find new homes for pets.
The strangest rule though would have to be, "No Freecycling yourself or your children.” Freecyclers wishing to do this are instead directed to Internet dating sites and told to get their annoying kids, "Involved in after-school band practice," instead. Hmmm, they certainly seem to have all bases covered down at Freecycle don't they?
Actually, I guess you could use Freecycle in order to play a rather malicious trick on one of your pals. He certainly won't be best pleased when he gets home to find that his entire CD collection has been sacrificed to the ideological cause of global recycling.
Ultimately though, Freecycle represents a rather more humane approach to the recycling imperative than Jakarta urchins rummaging around for plastic bottles on stinking rubbish tips. Long may it prosper. Those interested in having a bash should point their browsers at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freecycle_jakarta.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
From Kyoto to Kuta
This week, the smarting eyes of the world have been focused on Bali as world leaders, environment ministers and a smattering of celebrities gather to talk hot air about hot air. Arnie the Governator, Big Al Gore and Leo DiCaprio are among the more famous names that will be huffing and puffing sweatily around the Island of the Gods on bicycles that have been provided for the delegates. Although in fact, according to this week's Jakarta Post, only 200 out of 700 bicycles have actually materialized in an all too familiar type of Indo.cock up.
We'll see if any good comes of the whole event. I'm sure that pledges will be made and soundbites will issue forth from the lips of politicians with earnest expressions on their faces but when it's all over... Well, maybe the spirit of altruism and environmental solidarity will melt away once again when Western politicians are confronted with the immovable fact that cleaning up the planet and living sustainably is going to require a cut in the richest nations' living standards. This is, of course, a hard sell when placed in the context of our current, naturalized ideology of freewheeling, free market capitalism in which the accumulation of shiny things has become so central to our lives.
I do think though, that the usual niceties of international diplomacy and summits should be swept aside on this occasion. Specifically, Bali is far too pleasant a place in which to be chewing over prophecies of impending global doom. Our great leaders are no doubt currently experiencing palm fringed paddy fields, colorful Batik shirts, sunbathing on the beach and vodka martinis. Such classic Balinese holiday motifs may unfortunately serve to neutralize the urgency of the environmental message that the conference purports to be exploring.
Indonesia is on the front line of the environmental war, what with its rapidly vanishing forests and population pressures and this should be reflected in the choice of conference venue. Therefore, I'd like to propose the visceral reality of Jakarta as a location for a future environmental summit. If we could get that unctious, salad dodging, Nobel laureate Al Gore on a bicycle and send him off wobbling through Mampang, or get Schwarzenegger squashed into a Bajaj, sucking down exhaust fumes with his knees around his buzz cut, then perhaps a greater sense of urgency would be impressed upon the delegates.
Meetings and debate could be interspersed with field trips to watch local garbage collectors burning mountains of plastic, policemen coughing up black lumpy things into their pollution masks, street urchins with interesting skin conditions playing football in raw sewage and floodwater lapping around shanty dwellers nipples. I don't know who would crack first. Arnie would probably demand a chemical suit and an AK-47. On the other hand though, Big Al may possibly develop a taste for Soto Ayam and Nasi Goreng and move his whole Inconvenient Truth operation here, thus reinvigorating the Indonesian environmental movement.
Ah well, why bother hey? Maybe the psychoanalysts are right about there being a death wish deep within the human psyche. In more nihilistic moments I look forward to the end of this whole sad, pathetic human drama with open arms. Embrace extinction and prepare to join the other 95% of species that have ever roamed this Earth in their total non existence. As I said before, maybe any planet that can't sustain its population above the level of 15th century peasantry doesn't deserve to survive. Gosh I am in a good mood this week aren't I? It must have been running into that ex girlfriend of mine last weekend and realizing that she has all the sincerity and sensitivity of Tony Blair doing Christmas pantomime that's made me like this. Still, I digress.
Perhaps Indonesia could give something back to the world in order to atone for all of the rainforest destruction. How about sealing Jakarta inside a huge transparent, geodesic dome; just like they do to Springfield in the recent Simpsons movie? The world's environmental scientists could then conduct experiments on us. They could reduce the water supply for example, or artificially increase air pollution levels in order to see what happens. We would be like 10 million lab rats in amongst the real rats, providing crucial population/ environmental crisis data that could later be used to save the world.
In my paranoid mind though, it sometimes seems as if this has already happened. WALHI, the Indonesian Forum for the environment, has some very interesting stuff on their web site about our urban surroundings. Apparently, 13% of Jakarta's water is contaminated by mercury and 73% by ammonia. Well, the ammonia statistic should come as no surprise to anyone who has had an eye wateringly pungent ride on Jakarta's boatway. I also read that 2.2 million tonnes of toxic waste are discharged into Jakarta's rivers annually and that Jakarta's water table is dropping at such an alarming rate that people now have to drill up to 80 m down in order to strike H2O.
On the traffic front, I learned on my Web browsing that not only are very few cars in Jakarta fitted with catalytic converters, but that those drivers who do have the converters fitted are often persuaded to have them removed by unscrupulous mechanics looking to earn a few extra Rupiah. Apparently, the mechanics mischievously tell them that their cars performance will improve without the converters, which is not even true. However, maybe this information was conveyed to the mechanics by environmental scientists with clipboards outside the dome. Oh the paranoia of it all! I must find something to dispel the gloom of this winter of discontent. Anyone up for Christmas in Bali?
We'll see if any good comes of the whole event. I'm sure that pledges will be made and soundbites will issue forth from the lips of politicians with earnest expressions on their faces but when it's all over... Well, maybe the spirit of altruism and environmental solidarity will melt away once again when Western politicians are confronted with the immovable fact that cleaning up the planet and living sustainably is going to require a cut in the richest nations' living standards. This is, of course, a hard sell when placed in the context of our current, naturalized ideology of freewheeling, free market capitalism in which the accumulation of shiny things has become so central to our lives.
I do think though, that the usual niceties of international diplomacy and summits should be swept aside on this occasion. Specifically, Bali is far too pleasant a place in which to be chewing over prophecies of impending global doom. Our great leaders are no doubt currently experiencing palm fringed paddy fields, colorful Batik shirts, sunbathing on the beach and vodka martinis. Such classic Balinese holiday motifs may unfortunately serve to neutralize the urgency of the environmental message that the conference purports to be exploring.
Indonesia is on the front line of the environmental war, what with its rapidly vanishing forests and population pressures and this should be reflected in the choice of conference venue. Therefore, I'd like to propose the visceral reality of Jakarta as a location for a future environmental summit. If we could get that unctious, salad dodging, Nobel laureate Al Gore on a bicycle and send him off wobbling through Mampang, or get Schwarzenegger squashed into a Bajaj, sucking down exhaust fumes with his knees around his buzz cut, then perhaps a greater sense of urgency would be impressed upon the delegates.
Meetings and debate could be interspersed with field trips to watch local garbage collectors burning mountains of plastic, policemen coughing up black lumpy things into their pollution masks, street urchins with interesting skin conditions playing football in raw sewage and floodwater lapping around shanty dwellers nipples. I don't know who would crack first. Arnie would probably demand a chemical suit and an AK-47. On the other hand though, Big Al may possibly develop a taste for Soto Ayam and Nasi Goreng and move his whole Inconvenient Truth operation here, thus reinvigorating the Indonesian environmental movement.
Ah well, why bother hey? Maybe the psychoanalysts are right about there being a death wish deep within the human psyche. In more nihilistic moments I look forward to the end of this whole sad, pathetic human drama with open arms. Embrace extinction and prepare to join the other 95% of species that have ever roamed this Earth in their total non existence. As I said before, maybe any planet that can't sustain its population above the level of 15th century peasantry doesn't deserve to survive. Gosh I am in a good mood this week aren't I? It must have been running into that ex girlfriend of mine last weekend and realizing that she has all the sincerity and sensitivity of Tony Blair doing Christmas pantomime that's made me like this. Still, I digress.
Perhaps Indonesia could give something back to the world in order to atone for all of the rainforest destruction. How about sealing Jakarta inside a huge transparent, geodesic dome; just like they do to Springfield in the recent Simpsons movie? The world's environmental scientists could then conduct experiments on us. They could reduce the water supply for example, or artificially increase air pollution levels in order to see what happens. We would be like 10 million lab rats in amongst the real rats, providing crucial population/ environmental crisis data that could later be used to save the world.
In my paranoid mind though, it sometimes seems as if this has already happened. WALHI, the Indonesian Forum for the environment, has some very interesting stuff on their web site about our urban surroundings. Apparently, 13% of Jakarta's water is contaminated by mercury and 73% by ammonia. Well, the ammonia statistic should come as no surprise to anyone who has had an eye wateringly pungent ride on Jakarta's boatway. I also read that 2.2 million tonnes of toxic waste are discharged into Jakarta's rivers annually and that Jakarta's water table is dropping at such an alarming rate that people now have to drill up to 80 m down in order to strike H2O.
On the traffic front, I learned on my Web browsing that not only are very few cars in Jakarta fitted with catalytic converters, but that those drivers who do have the converters fitted are often persuaded to have them removed by unscrupulous mechanics looking to earn a few extra Rupiah. Apparently, the mechanics mischievously tell them that their cars performance will improve without the converters, which is not even true. However, maybe this information was conveyed to the mechanics by environmental scientists with clipboards outside the dome. Oh the paranoia of it all! I must find something to dispel the gloom of this winter of discontent. Anyone up for Christmas in Bali?
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Stir Crazy
Well I've been gored and eviscerated by the runaway bull of Indonesian nationalism on the Jakarta Post letters page of late and this week I may get myself into yet more hot water, but let's press on anyway.
A fortnight ago, a United Nations report was published; its subject: the Indonesian penal system and its, "Cult of impunity," for members of the police and military who torture inmates in prisons and detention centers across the country. Mr Manfred Novak, a UN human rights monitor, said that he found evidence of detainees being electrocuted, suffering systematic beatings and even being shot in the legs at close range. Mr Novak was quoted as saying that, "The problem of police abuse appears to be sufficiently widespread as to warrant immediate attention." He called for a separate offence of torture to be created, a reduction in the time people spend in police custody and an independent complaints system.
This is all very interesting although not entirely surprising to anyone who's lived in this country for a while. During my time here, crawling through the thorns of the Big Durian, I have had two very different encounters with internment Indonesian style.
On the first occasion, which happened only a few months after I first arrived in Jakarta, I was pick pocketed on a footbridge on Jl. Sudirman. I saw the poor wretch responsible making his getaway and actually managed to catch up with him. Unfortunately though, he had already passed my wallet on to an unknown accomplice. Events quickly escalated as a security guard from a nearby building arrived on the scene to hold the guy. Soon after, a policeman arrived in all his light brown, ill fitting shirted finery.
We all drove down to the cop shop together in a van and were shown into a room at the nearby Polda police headquarters. Inside, the officer in question proceeded to interrogate my assailant with the aid of a huge 2 foot long desk stapler. After inflicting a few red welts on the poor wretches back, the lawman held his long arm out and offered me his dual purpose office utility. “Would you like a go Mr?" he asked. "Er... I think I'll wait outside," I said and stepped through the door, my heart racing.
Outside, through the muffled sound of thwacking coming from the room next door, I was grilled by the desk sergeant. "Where are you from Mr?.... What are you doing here?.... Where is your passport?..... Don't you know that you must report to the police every six months?" I was getting a good third degree grilling even though I was the victim. When his back was turned I quietly slipped away out of the police station lest I also be given the dreaded Samurai stapler treatment. What a strange day.
My second experience with the dark underbelly of Indonesia's penal system came when I visited a friend who spent an unfortunate three months in sunny Salemba jail after being caught with a small pinch of Oregano (the better to make his spaghetti with you understand).
It proved to be an expensive stay for the poor lad as an ever escalating series of bribes were scaled. My friend was also shelling out several million a month to stay in the nicer part of the prison, i.e. a room separate from the various caged thugs, murderers and gangsters who make up the majority of the lags down at good ol' Salemba.
Impoverished Indonesians who wind up in jail have it even worse though. If they find themselves in the animal pen they are often tortured by other inmates until they reveal where they live. Word is then passed to the outside and the heavies are sent round to the address in question in order to extort the poor guy's family. Grim stuff indeed.
Back to my friend though. His stay inside interestingly coincided with that of elderly, bucktoothed fundamentalist Abu Bakar Bashir who was then serving time for his alleged role in the Bali bombing. When I went to visit I had to wait in line with around 30 of his bearded and be-turbaned followers who had come all the way from East Java to show their support for the myopic (in every sense of the word) Bashir. They seemed somewhat interested to see an infidel in their midst.
Of course, the whole issue of the penal system here throws this country's corruption and its elite/plebeian class divide into sharp relief. If you're poor, you'll be thrown in the slammer to rot without a second glance (or fair trial). If you are a rich corruptor though, the continuing parlous state of the judiciary will enable you to purchase your freedom.
If you have the connections and the money you can escape incarceration not only before your trial but also, amazingly, even after you have been found guilty. Yes, pending several lengthy appeals processes we have time and again seen convicted fat cats remain firmly ensconced in their luxury pieds-a-terre.
Often, the judiciary has tried to neutralize negative public perception of this unfairness by coming up with the fascinating concept of city arrest. Now, I've heard of house arrest. The detention of Burmese democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi springs to mind as a prominent example. Although in fact, even house arrest wouldn't seem so bad to a few of my acquaintances, so long as they could keep sending the maid out for a steady supply of noodles, DVDs and beer. City arrest though... how does that work? It certainly doesn't seem like a very stringent punishment does it? And why stop there? How about planetary arrest? “Yes your honor, our client solemnly undertakes not to have his BMW fitted with an ionic positron drive and to head out of the solar system into the asteroid belt pending his appeal."
If you're not minted with ill gotten gains though, it's best not to chance anything illegal here I say. Have a good week and keep your noses clean. Let's have no dabbling in drugs, pornography, copyright infringement or alternative interpretations of Islam. Give thanks that you are an honest law-abiding citizen the next time you drop the soap in the Mandi.
A fortnight ago, a United Nations report was published; its subject: the Indonesian penal system and its, "Cult of impunity," for members of the police and military who torture inmates in prisons and detention centers across the country. Mr Manfred Novak, a UN human rights monitor, said that he found evidence of detainees being electrocuted, suffering systematic beatings and even being shot in the legs at close range. Mr Novak was quoted as saying that, "The problem of police abuse appears to be sufficiently widespread as to warrant immediate attention." He called for a separate offence of torture to be created, a reduction in the time people spend in police custody and an independent complaints system.
This is all very interesting although not entirely surprising to anyone who's lived in this country for a while. During my time here, crawling through the thorns of the Big Durian, I have had two very different encounters with internment Indonesian style.
On the first occasion, which happened only a few months after I first arrived in Jakarta, I was pick pocketed on a footbridge on Jl. Sudirman. I saw the poor wretch responsible making his getaway and actually managed to catch up with him. Unfortunately though, he had already passed my wallet on to an unknown accomplice. Events quickly escalated as a security guard from a nearby building arrived on the scene to hold the guy. Soon after, a policeman arrived in all his light brown, ill fitting shirted finery.
We all drove down to the cop shop together in a van and were shown into a room at the nearby Polda police headquarters. Inside, the officer in question proceeded to interrogate my assailant with the aid of a huge 2 foot long desk stapler. After inflicting a few red welts on the poor wretches back, the lawman held his long arm out and offered me his dual purpose office utility. “Would you like a go Mr?" he asked. "Er... I think I'll wait outside," I said and stepped through the door, my heart racing.
Outside, through the muffled sound of thwacking coming from the room next door, I was grilled by the desk sergeant. "Where are you from Mr?.... What are you doing here?.... Where is your passport?..... Don't you know that you must report to the police every six months?" I was getting a good third degree grilling even though I was the victim. When his back was turned I quietly slipped away out of the police station lest I also be given the dreaded Samurai stapler treatment. What a strange day.
My second experience with the dark underbelly of Indonesia's penal system came when I visited a friend who spent an unfortunate three months in sunny Salemba jail after being caught with a small pinch of Oregano (the better to make his spaghetti with you understand).
It proved to be an expensive stay for the poor lad as an ever escalating series of bribes were scaled. My friend was also shelling out several million a month to stay in the nicer part of the prison, i.e. a room separate from the various caged thugs, murderers and gangsters who make up the majority of the lags down at good ol' Salemba.
Impoverished Indonesians who wind up in jail have it even worse though. If they find themselves in the animal pen they are often tortured by other inmates until they reveal where they live. Word is then passed to the outside and the heavies are sent round to the address in question in order to extort the poor guy's family. Grim stuff indeed.
Back to my friend though. His stay inside interestingly coincided with that of elderly, bucktoothed fundamentalist Abu Bakar Bashir who was then serving time for his alleged role in the Bali bombing. When I went to visit I had to wait in line with around 30 of his bearded and be-turbaned followers who had come all the way from East Java to show their support for the myopic (in every sense of the word) Bashir. They seemed somewhat interested to see an infidel in their midst.
Of course, the whole issue of the penal system here throws this country's corruption and its elite/plebeian class divide into sharp relief. If you're poor, you'll be thrown in the slammer to rot without a second glance (or fair trial). If you are a rich corruptor though, the continuing parlous state of the judiciary will enable you to purchase your freedom.
If you have the connections and the money you can escape incarceration not only before your trial but also, amazingly, even after you have been found guilty. Yes, pending several lengthy appeals processes we have time and again seen convicted fat cats remain firmly ensconced in their luxury pieds-a-terre.
Often, the judiciary has tried to neutralize negative public perception of this unfairness by coming up with the fascinating concept of city arrest. Now, I've heard of house arrest. The detention of Burmese democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi springs to mind as a prominent example. Although in fact, even house arrest wouldn't seem so bad to a few of my acquaintances, so long as they could keep sending the maid out for a steady supply of noodles, DVDs and beer. City arrest though... how does that work? It certainly doesn't seem like a very stringent punishment does it? And why stop there? How about planetary arrest? “Yes your honor, our client solemnly undertakes not to have his BMW fitted with an ionic positron drive and to head out of the solar system into the asteroid belt pending his appeal."
If you're not minted with ill gotten gains though, it's best not to chance anything illegal here I say. Have a good week and keep your noses clean. Let's have no dabbling in drugs, pornography, copyright infringement or alternative interpretations of Islam. Give thanks that you are an honest law-abiding citizen the next time you drop the soap in the Mandi.
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