Autumn in SE Asia

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" never really did it for me. Romantic imagery of European seasons in a hot classroom is not particularly relevant to young Australian minds. Though I must admit to enjoying the rhythm of Keat's poetry and I fancied that the seasonal images somehow affected my psyche, born from European parents. But it didn’t.

It wasn't until I was in India, almost 30 years ago, that I first identified just how much fun harvest time is. Venturing into a Rajasthani night, a glass of greenish/brown bung mischievously given to me by the son of the farmer I had imposed myself upon, I found the kerosene lamps outside the huts rotating in tiny circles: just as represented by all the little statutes of Nataraj I had seen in Indian museums. With this instant and drug-inspired appreciation of Shiva's dance to destroy the cosmos, I joined the village folk release the tension of a year's hard work. The Indian version may be a little more energetic than an English idyll, but the inspiration of a periodic renewal is identical.

As is the Chinese, which seems to becoming increasing more visible in Sydney with several of my Kensington neighbours now stringing up coloured paper lanterns to announce the approaching September full moon. While living in China I was lucky enough to be taken one harvest season by a friend to his ancestral home in Shandong. Within an hour's travel of the most important symbols of Chinese self-awareness; Confucious' home, the Yellow river and Tai Shan - which emperors were required to climb to seek the mandate of heaven for their rule and which is now adorned by Mao’s poetry - I was given the lowdown on Chinese cosmology. Basically, everything is about stability and predictability. The thing that the Chinese state has always hated is a deviation from these twin pillars given by seasonal cycles and maintenance of a status quo. I guess all societies are similar but Chinese rulers were able to codify the concept very early in their's state evolution so that it is ingrained into Chinese consciousness a significantly deeper level than anywhere else.

My friend's grandfather had been a headmaster until some teenage Red Guards decided he would be more productive shovelling pig shit. Unembittered by that smelly decade - which resulted in his complete alienation from his son - the kindly old man used his gentle school master ways to explain the ancient significance of the Chinese full moon festivals to the cycles of modern Chinese life.

And now, as I find myself again in a country during its harvest time, I am again reminded just how removed I am in Australia from that close association between a shared community acknowledgment of the agricultural cycle and a sense of cultural togetherness. Even though, here in Malaysia, there is such a sharp division between ethnic communities, the sense of a party time when the year's major rice crop is gathered is palpable. The Malay actually call their harvest festival kenduri: literal translation is party. And it is party all around with the urbanised Hokkien community making the most noise with their hungry ghost festival.

This is when all the street workers: hawkers, garbage collectors, taxi drivers, morticians, prostitutes and the like, jointly fund a month of entertainment for homeless ghosts. Stages are set up immediately opposite taoist temples and every night young women mime the latest Hong Kong and Korean popsongs (the twin centres of youthful coolness across Eastern Asia) into the night. A newspaper article says that authorities are clamping down on the young women singers who do not wear underwear during Hungry Ghost. It really is a party.

Local householders simply tolerate the high decibel racket in much the same way all Malaysians appear to tolerate the habitual flouting of industrial and construction noise containment laws. After a huge feast, on the first night of the harvest moon, the hungry ghosts are presumably fed and entertained enough to leave the street workers to their duties for another year.

I think these rituals associated with year-ending festivals appeal to some prehistoric sense that has been expunged from the forefront of my Sydneysider consciousness. It seems to me that we in Australia are alone in our total alienation from the growing of food in the cycle of life. Even our fellow antipodeans in New Zealand have rituals acknowledging the end of the plentiful season. Perhaps because our English governors were more successful than any other at ethnically cleansing our land that my periodical reacquainting with this element of agricultural humanity is like plunging into refreshingly cold sea on a hot summer's day: there is a shock of recognition and a exhilaration at the remembered feelings.

I had another shock of recognition last week when up in Cambodia. Taking advantage of all these cheap air fares now in Asia, Swee Liew and I flew up to Siem Reap for a week. What do you know of Siem Reap? Are you aware of its significance in world history?

I thought I had a fair idea of Cambodia’s role in our contemporary consciousness. Cambodia is that small Southeast Asian country that the Vietcong used as a conduit to supply their comrades in the south. Nixon and Kissinger then agent-oranged the Cambodian jungle and landmined the country to an extent unprecedented in world history. This utterly destroyed the social fabric of the place making it ripe for a Maoist-inspired revolution led by Pol Pot who wanted to rid the country of all aspects of a corrupt modernity. In the process, the Khmer Rouge emptied the cities and murdered over a quarter of the country’s population for such crimes as having had an education or wearing glasses: truly insane times.

But why: these things seem to recur in history and that questions remains - what drives one person, or a small group of people, to visit so much misery on a population for some poorly thoughtout social agenda? I try to understand by reading the country's history.

And Cambodia does have a remarkable history through its peculiar geography. Cambodia lies at the end of the Mekong River and is dominated by a single feature: the Tonle Sap. This is Asia’s largest freshwater lake (not counting Baikal in Russia, which is really a sea) that expands and contracts like a giant bellow every year as the Himalayan snows melt and swell the flooding Mekong. Because the Mekong does not drain directly into Tonle Sap the lake has an extraordinary property. For three months a year it is filled by the Tonle Sap river, a small channel that drains off the Mekong at Pnong Penh, and creates an enormous water storage tank. For the remaining nine months of the year, the lake changes the direction of its tributary rivers and naturally irrigates the entire Mekong basin.

This unique feat of non-human hydroengineering led Cambodians, some five thousand years ago, to harvest a local grass that grew in the receding waterlogged soil around the lake – rice. From all available evidence this was where rice cultivation began before the knowledge migrated north to the valleys along the Yangtze river.

The huge Han Chinese states were based on this imported knowledge and several significant Mekong basin societies also developed. By the 6th century, these rice-producing societies were trading with both India and China and influenced by the revolution in political theory that was happening in both these, by now, hugely sophisticated economies.

Buddhism, and its emphasis on individualism, had been the rationale behind these revolutions. By 600AD, India had already had a 1000 year exposure to the concept that an individual is responsible for his/her own destiny. An Indian middle class had taken this idea to develop a multi-layered society that derived great wealth from trading and introducing these concepts of social contracts across the Asian continent.

Of course, there were widely differing responses to a social ethic based on individual responsibility. China's ruling families initially accepted the concept as a means of filling their coffers and cementing their own power base, with the mighty Tang and Soong dynasties. But eventually, the public service of the time, rooted in Confucian orthodoxy, managed to adapt Buddhism to their own agenda and marginalise it as a social force. Much the same happened in India itself, with southern Brahmins - best articulated by Sankara - finally devising a means of absorbing Buddhist individualism into their own peculiar social hierarchy based on social function.

It was this "new" Hinduism and its associated militarism that allowed a series of South India states to expand and exert influence on the rice producing southeast Asian states. By far the most impressive was the Cholas who are still the pride of the Tamil people and the creators of an architectural style that is familiar to all who has seen stereotypical tourist images of Southeast Asia. On this trip to Malaysia, my good friend Anand, a Tamil architect, convinced me that even the Twin Towers in KL, with their fat, slowly tapering towers, are Chola inspired.

Be that as it may, there is certainly no argument against the unheralded influence of the Cholas on Asian history. Throughout all my travels in Asia it always strikes me that attention is paid primarily to the societies associated with agriculture rather than trade. The Tamils, like the Dali in Yunnan, are the most obvious examples. Both the Tamil Cholas and the Yunnan Dali exerted immense economic power and were responsible for the expansion of Indian and Chinese power. But in both cases, the cultures of the river valleys to the north of these ancient societies dominate our current awareness of India and China.

I reckon there is a clear reason for this and it lies in the sense of seasonal rhythm that agriculture structures give our community conscientiousness.

And it was the agricultural produce of the Mekong that attracted the Cholas to share their logic of a god-appointed king, priests to interpret ancient texts, and specific soldier, trading and labouring classes to the Khmers and a series of other Sankara-inspired Hindu kingdoms in Sumatra, Java, Northern Borneo and, what is now, northern Malaysia.

The Khmers have left us with the grandest remnants of these medieval societies, largely because Cambodia is the only one of these Southeast states that managed to avoid the tsunamic rebuttal to individualism that Islam presented from the 7th century onwards.

Islam's impact on southeast Asia was not direct until European colonial times, by which time the influence of the Indian and Chinese economies had been all-but removed. The Khmer kings simply lost their affluence and thus their power and the temples of Angkor were swallowed by jungle and preserved for our contemporary wonderment.

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why Buddhism?

The latest Australian census reveals that adherence to a religion has recently surged. The drift away from the main christian religions, that began in the 1960s, has been halted and now more and more Australians say they have a religion. Now, while the Anglican and Catholic churches have merely stopped losing members, the Pentecostals have grown, as have the various Islamic demoninations. But the biggest growth has been in the number of Buddhists in Australia. As has been similarly noted in recent US surveys, Buddhism is the fastest growing religion in the Western world.

Why?

One simple explanation, that applies to both Australia and the US, is migration. Both countries attract migrants from Asia who have a traditional belief system. Chinese, Koreans, Japanese, Thais, Vietnamese, Cambodians, Lao, Sri Lankans, Nepalis and some Indians come from Buddhist backgrounds. And even though the Pentecostals attract many of their clientele from these migrant groups, the main body of these migrants help boost Buddhist numbers in Australia.

But does this really tell the story of the growth of Buddhism?

I do not think so. My theory is that Buddhism is the only rational religion. Actually, I think what I just said is an oxymoron because religion implies to me irrationality. All religions require a suspension of evidence at some point. All religions are based on faith. Some interpretations of Buddhism do also. Nut from my 30 years of studying Buddhism I have come to the conclusion that the teachings of Buddha are based on a a very simple principle: that we must never cease questioning and never accept anything on face value.

As such, Buddhism is not a religion but a mechanism to develop an understanding of the world around us. So is science. The basic principle of sciences is to develop a hypothesis for a phenomena, use experimentation to measure that phenomena then test the hypothesis. If the experimentation confirms the hypothesis it becomes a theory. But all scientific theory is always open to observation and experimentation.

And this is the reason I think Buddhism is attractive to ever-growing numbers of people. Despite the lipservice paid to religion by political leaders, a better educated community are rejecting the intolerance and limited horizons presented by various religions. Unfortunately, a "us v them" mentality seems to exist between science and religion and while most are persuaded by the rationality of science they are not entirely dissuaded from the emotionalism of faith-based ideas. Buddhism is a safe compromise: as a Buddhist you can retain a scepticism while clinging to some vestiges of irrationality.

Kensington, in Sydney's Eastern Suburbs

This is a description of my suburb: Kensington and a brief attempt to argue that geography determines culture (this is a major theme in my book, "From the Bodhi Tree").

My home is in Kensington, in the eastern suburbs of Sydney. In order to gain a perspective of my suburb it is necessary to describe a little of the history, economy and geography of the district.

If you were to look at an aerial photo of Sydney you would note that the Eastern Suburbs are on a section of land that resembles an equilateral triangle: with the base facing due east to the Pacific Ocean and the slopes of the triangle facing Port Jackson roughly to the north and Botany Bay to the southwest. The apex of this metaphorical triangle has been sliced off and attached to the great mass of land that represents Sydney’s immense urban sprawl.

With further examination you would note that there is an inland ridge running parallel to the Pacific coastline beaches. At the southern end, this ridge is relatively flat and there are points where loose sand dunes are exposed. As you run your eye northward along the ridge it becomes more pronounced and pressed sandstone replaces sand. By the time your eye reaches the northeastern corner, the ridge has become substantial sandstone cliffs that form the Southern Head of Port Jackson.

The suburbs on the northern extension of this ridge have traditionally been Sydney’s, and indeed Australia’s, wealthiest. Vaucluse and Watson’s Bay, on top of South Head, have the most expensive real estate in Australia with mean average prices of houses above $3 million. The value of land gradually subsides southward along the ridge through Randwick to Maroubra Junction where mean average house prices are well below $1 million. The demography gradually changes along with the economy and geology and whereas Vaucluse has Sydney’s highest concentration of professional residents, Maroubra has one of Sydney’s highest concentration of tradespeople.

The land in the beachside suburbs, immediately to the east of the ridge, has been subdivided more vigourous and therefore there is a significantly greater population density, making the housing less attractive for young families and more attractive to people with disposal incomes. These tend to be young professionals or renters. The subculture of the beachside suburbs reflect this social mix and, as with the economy on the ridge, the northern most beachside suburb - Bondi - is the wealthiest, while the southernmost suburb - Malabar - is one of Sydney’s poorest and the location of Sydney’s major gaol and sewerage treatment plant. South of Malabar is La Perouse which deserves a separate description. However, it is important to note here that it has been the dumping ground of Sydney’s unwanted residents since European settlement, including lepers and Aborigines.

The land of the ridge was amongst the first cleared and settled after European settlement. Two suburbs in particular, Paddington and Randwick, were established for the wealthy citizens of the early English colony to escape the bustle of early Sydneytown. Both suburbs were modelled and named after English villages and retain vestiges of Georgian and early Victorian architecture.

The land to the west of the ridge was amongst the last cleared and only settled after immense political pressure exerted after the First World War. Prior to the war, the greater portion of Australians were employed in rural industries. After the war and the growth of urban-based industries, there developed an ever-increasing demand on governments to release urban land for housing. This same demand exists in Sydney to this day with 100,000 immigrants a year replacing displaced farm hands and returning soldiers as the source of pressure on governments. But unlike 1919, the government today has a policy of urban consolidation and encourages greater population density rather than land release.

Referring back to the aerial photo of the eastern suburbs there are obvious reasons for the late settlement of the land west of the eastern suburbs ridge. The dominant geographical feature is a series of lakes and waterways which indicate the area is flat, alluvial and unsuitable for housing. Indeed, before 1919 the entire area south of the city and west of Randwick to Botany Bay was swampland and in government literature it is still designated as the Botany Sands. Some idealists in the early 20^th century imaged that the Botany Sands could be transformed into an antipodean version of Venice. Instead, great chunks of the swampland were filled in and given to industry for manufacturing and storage.

The southernmost area of the Botany Sands is now dominated by two vast transport institutions, Kingsford-Smith Airport and the Port Botany Container terminal. Surrounding these areas to the north are the associated storage areas of Botany and Mascot and then, sandwiched between these industrial estates, the remaining lake systems - that are now contained within public parks and private golf courses - and the southern perimeters of the city, is Kensington Estate.

There are coppertone pictures of Kensington Estate taken in the early 1920s that show a vast flat scrubland, intersected by a series of small rivers flowing from north to south. The State government’s intention for the land was for it to be a garden suburb, hence the name Kensington after the area in London which contains that city’s major parks.

Randwick Council was given the responsibility for administering the land and it contained a local real estate agent named Les Hooker. Hooker bought up as much of the land as he could and then got the council to rezone it to allow for 600 square metre blocks. He subdivided the land he had bought, making him one of Sydney’s wealthiest citizens and helping to establish Randwick Council's reputation as historically one the more corrupt governments in Australia.

The consequence of Hooker’s actions were that instead of making Kensington an attractive garden suburb close to the city, it tended to attract migrant business families who needed easy access to their city restaurant and café businesses. In the 1920s and 30s these business families were predominately Greek. Recently the business families are predominately from China.

My own family came to the area as a consequence of another government land release project, this time after the Second World War. This time the Commonwealth Government released some of the land it had retained for miliary purposes for a university. The Commonwealth wanted to use the technology college that had been attached to the army as the basis of a university that specialised in engineering sciences. In 1953 it established the University of New South Wales in Kensington.

One of the facilities at this new university was a medical school and my father answered an advertisement in a New Zealand newspaper for a chair in pathology. Our whole family subsequently moved to Sydney and bought a house within walking distance of UNSW. I went to the local primary school where most of my classmates were of Greek background and whose families ran small businesses.

I also went to the local high school which, coincidentally, was Australia’s first public secondary school: Sydney Boys’ High. This school has always had a very high academic standard and attracts the sons of professionals from throughout the Eastern Suburbs. Most of my classmates there were from first generation European backgrounds.

Now, as I walk past both schools on my way to work, I see that most of the students at Kensington Public and Sydney Boys’ High are of Asian background. As when I was a child, the children at Kensington Primary are predominately from business families while the children at Sydney High are from professional families. The geography of an area continues to play a significant role in its demography.

Asian telecommunications

WiMAX v HSDPA in Asia

As observers of the telecommunications sector have witnessed over and over again, enormous profits and opportunities ride on carriers picking technologies that survive the rigours of full commercial launch. In the mobile market, WiMAX and HSDPA are the technologies du jour. Recent announcements in India, China, Thailand and Singapore have all fuelled speculation as to which technology will ultimately be the main conduit for wireless services.

Indian newspapers made a big fuss this week about WiMAX and how the technology will be the final element in breaching the digital divide. The Economic Times equated WiMAX with a gift from the gods by calling it “agni astra”, which roughly translates to “a flash from heaven”. This follows India’s international carrier, VSNL, re-releasing a press release saying that it had launched a WiMAX trial in Bangalore and that the company intends to extend the network to about 120 cities across India for enterprise customers and five cities for retail customers by the end of this financial year.

The Indian government appears to have made an early decision that WiMAX is the best technology solution. JS Sarma, Telecom Commission Chairman, is quoted saying that if a suitable price point can be met “WiMAX could build on the huge base of copper-wire and fibre-optic connectivity available with BSNL and extend its reach to inaccessible areas by using wireless for the last mile."

Meanwhile, the proponents of WiMAX got a boost from China’s Ministry of Information Industries (MII) with its announcement that it is backing a rollout of 150 WiMAX base stations, covering 90 percent of Beijing’s commercial and residential areas, in time for the 2008 Beijing Olympics. WiMAX technology will be used to serve the need for high-speed data applications, such as video streaming, with TD-SCDMA reserved for voice and less bandwidth-hungry data, according to Telecommunication.

China Unicom is reportedly testing WiMAX on business and select residential users in five cities, while China Telecom and China Netcom have ordered WiMAX equipment based on the 802.16d fixed standard with the intention of conducting trials.

However, Telecommunications says that big hurdles remain for WiMAX in China. For a start, MII has not reserved any spectrum for WiMAX. The international norm is 2-11GHz, but only 3300-3399MHz and 3531-3600MHz are available in China. The 3.5GHz band, which is commonly used for WiMAX outside China, was assigned to a category of service called fixed wireless access (FWA) in 2004, but FWA has not panned out well and some industry groups now say 3.5GHz would make a good fit for WiMAX. China Unicom, for one, would like to use its right to 3.5GHz for WiMAX testing, but the MII has said this cannot be taken for granted.

While India appears gung-ho for WiMAX and China is hedging its bets, Thailand and Singapore have both appears to favour alternative technologies. Thailand’s Information and Communications Minister Professor Sitthichai Pookaiyaudom, is quoted in the Bangkok Post saying that Thailand is very unlikely to allocate the required spectrum “in 15 years, historians will call WiMAX the first attempt at 4G and one that did not work”.

Meanwhile, Singtel Mobile has launched a high speed downlink packet access (HSDPA) service in selected areas of the island state, joining rival MobileOne Asia (M1) which introduced commercial HSDPA services six months ago.

At launch, SingTel Mobile’s 3.5G service will offer users maximum theoretical download speeds of up to 3.6Mbps. SingTel Mobile has around 466,000 subscribers signed up to 3G services and intends to entice a sizeable portion onto HSDPA within the next three months, it said. M1 had roughly 390,000 3G users as at 31 March 2007 and is looking to encourage HSDPA take-up by increasing maximum download speeds from the current 3.6Mbps to 14.4Mbps by end-2007. Singapore’s third mobile operator StarHub plans to launch 3.5G services ‘this year’ although it has not produced a timetable for rollout.

Charles Dodgson as published in ExchangeAsia