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MY WORLD

From Some New Theories about the L A Carnage to Happy Memories about My Buddhist Friends in Bangkok

S.M. Ali
MORE than two decades ago. an Ame rican newspaper editor we met during a media seminar tn Cairo - In fact we shared a suite 1n a downtown hotel - talked lo me a lot about what he called the 'hidden third World" In the United States, In which a growing number, million* and million*, of dis-iwlvanlaged people faced problems common tn moat developing countries. As he pul It. these pcopk were lighting a losing battle against poor housing conditions, lack of educational fa cilitie*. inadequate social services and racial cum-gender Inequalities. And he predicted, the situation was getting worse.
He was a white American, editor of a now defunct daily of New York. So. we assumed, he did not suiter from what is often described, sometimes unfairly, as the racial hang-up of a black. But he was a member of the controversial Unification Church of Rev. Sun Moon, with some set religious and social Ideas. Yet. many of us took hi* views seriously.
As time goes on. these views make more sense, especially against the backdrop of what |ust happened in Los Angeles.
Now. wc learn from the US media that a ■ book, titled, "The Thlrd-Woridlznlion of Amcri ea" I* being written by a noted expert. Edward
■ N. Luttwak of Washington -bused Center lor Strategy and Interna lional Studies Let us hope that book will come out soon and become <■ recommended . reading for it
cross-section of our people. Including thus, want to get away from the Third World "to do anything In the Untied States."
Of course, until the book is out. wc would not know if it refers to the so-called "invasion" of the United Stales by immigrants from the Third World or lo the deterioration in the quality of life In many US cities to the level of a developing country. Maybe Lultwak will establish a linkage between the two and suggest that one leads to the other
AFTER every upheaval, like the recent one tn Los Angeles. US pundits start wondering what had gone wrong with the system and then offer their explanations, often by reviving some old theories.
At least two leading western papers, the Neu? York Times and the London Times. have used commentArics by Edward Luttwak and Peter Stothard respectively, focussing on the role of what both writer* call the "underclass" during the carnage in the strife-torn city.
The underclass?
So. the term used occasionally in serious economic journals In the past two decades has now entered the language of dally journalism. But it still remains a somewhat intriguing expression.
To paraphrase an explanation by Luttwak. the underclass is that section of unskilled workers who do such traditional jobs as labour crs. janitors, maids, waiters, gardeners and so on. These low-wage jobs, despite small prospects of advancement, offer some kind of a sustaining economic power to the underclass.
Both the commentators argue. In different languages, that over the years the underclass — mostly black but many whites — have been pushed out of their traditional low paid jobs by more educated workers and immigrants. Here, it Is worth quoting Luttwak. "Squeezed between the two. the underclass has been losing Its few breadwinners, and it is not the riots . that arc surprising but rather the semblance of tranquility tn most place* most of the time."
Thus, the member* of tlw underclass in Lo* Angeles posed what the 7Im«s of London said In the headline of It* analysis. The ehalk-ne of the looter*", while The Noto York Times grimly predicted. "No End to tne Downward Squeeze."
Mind you. this can also happen here or in any developing country
Our underclass, unskilled workers doing low-paid jobs as messengers, janitors and maids, will soon fare competition from young matriculates. and people with souk college education. Then, what will the people who are squeered out of their traditional occupations do for a living? Make your guess.
LETS turn to something brighter, something more cheerful.
The celebration of Buddha Purnlma here last week brought to my mind nuiny happy memories of my association mid. In some cases, friendship with Buddhist colleagues and acquaintances in Bangkok in the laic sixties.
I used lo pass by a couple of wats (the English translation would be temples, but a wal means a great .teal mure lluin just a place of
worship) on my way from my residence to my office In the morning. If there war sometime to spare. I \vould gel off the ear. lake a walk through the courtyard and enjoy a lew mmulcs ol total serenity whose im-pact nvuld often last for hour*.
There were always some young Buddhist students from Chittagong studying in Bangkok under Thal scholarships and staying in one of these wals. For me, it was both a duty and a pleasure lo visit them from lime to time to enquire after their well-being.
They always seemed rather lonely and homesick. Just the company of another Bengalee made them feel better. So they said.
It was quite Tin occasion for us when one of these novices was ordained as a monk. Under the leadership of the then Pakistani Ambassador lo Thailand, the late Prabhat Mukul Chowdhury — a-superb human being — who hailed from Chittagong and died of heart attack during his tenure in Bangkok, many of us went to the ceremony, with gifts lor the young monk, and spent an hour or so in a solemn atmosphere.
11 was a much less solemn atmosphere — In fact, it was rather a jovial one — when our newspaper invited a group of senior Thai monks to attend the installation of our newly bought Goss Webb press and, believe it or not. to bless the printing plant. With folded hands, all of us, including our British Managing Director, German production engineer and several western colleagues, joined the prayer, first listening to the chanting and then watching the head monk put some while dots on each of the four units of the plant.
The press performed well, without giving us the slightest trouble. The productton engineer attributed this success to the German technical knowhow, the British Managing Director lo this own meticulous supervision of every thing that went on in the office, my sceptical western colleagues lo sheer good luck and myself lo the hour-long Buddhist prayer and to the dots in white paint which were still there when I left that newspaper and Bangkok for Singapore a few years later.