Walter's Blog |
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Reflections on recent events, plus the occasional fact
free rant unfiltered by rational argument. |
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27/12/2020 1 Comment The Dating Game. "True romance consisted of three pints of Stones Bitter for courage, then a quick fumble in a bus shelter to the twang of knicker elastic." 'Ghosting', 'cat-fishing', 'pigging' and 'orbiting' — I learnt a whole new language over dinner this week.
Being our wedding anniversary, we had a few friends over, including a single young man lamenting a lack of romance. The conversation soon turned to dating-apps, as I'm schooled in a world hidden from me by marriage. After some cajoling, our guest allowed me access to his Bumble app. He may yet come to regret this. Greeting me was a bevvy of young ladies, who laid out their wares in seeking Mr Right — 'all done in the best possible taste'. This realm is new to me. Back in my youth, before the marvels of the Internet, all dating came limited by geography, your circle of friends and clumsy social skills. Gone are the days of 'My mate Sharon fancies you' or taking the lonely walk unto a group of ladies to make your introduction. Shortly followed by a quick retreat, with my feathers on fire and confidence dented. My chat-up lines are now redundant. Such classics as 'You don't sweat much for a fat lass,' — a dance floor favourite — is consigned to the dustbin of love. True romance consisted of three pints of Stones Bitter for courage, then a quick fumble in a bus shelter to the twang of knicker elastic. Don't disparage it; this is East Yorkshire in the late 1970s. Halcyon days. The pool of available potential-partners always faced constraints. Early humans married their immediate neighbours. Then the horse and bicycle increased the range, as did trains and the internal combustion engine. These days the whole planet is within reach. In the USA, 39 per cent of married couples met online. So, how does it work? Well, you upload a photograph or photographs accompanied by a brief profile of likes and dislikes. The app suggests potential dates and the user swipes left or right. Left sends to person into a loveless wilderness to await their next turn: the system doesn't let them know you've rejected them. Swiping right places them on a list for further exploration, assuming they also give you a right swipe. It's a mutual thing. Within a minute, I'd swiped through 20 plus ladies, adding five to the 'possible' list. My dinner guest would await their response, if any, then seek to engage through WhatsApp. If that went well, they'd set up a meeting and take it from there. He admitted having ten plus such dates, one of which produced an ongoing liaison. I'm ambivalent. Sure, it offered a lot of choices. Yet, I have a distinctly uneasy feeling this is a cattle market. My younger guests disagreed. 'What's the difference between ogling girls in a disco and making a move?' Fair question. I suppose the industrial scale, the algorithms learning your preferences, and the brutal dismissing based on a photograph caused my discomfort. Many of the images flashed up by Bumble benefited from photoshopping, as all the people had flawless skin. Does this artificial inflation of looks create false expectations? Of course, all the ladies presented themselves in their best. In truth, the real sorting would come later. In that sense, you could argue all the dating app does is create choice and a rapid turnover. But, we know that more choice is not always healthy. Still, my doubts linger. Because algorithms pick up likes, the app soon learns to send you a specific type as it seeks to home in on the perfect match. Again, this struck me as sinister. Along the way, a whole range of possible incredible partners gets swept aside because the computer says 'No'. During my small venture in the app, it did throw up two ladies who didn't appear to fit the pattern I'd followed. Perhaps a random element is at work. How about the language of dating apps? 'Ghosting' is the practice of ignoring people, causing them profound stress. In response, a cottage industry evolved around gently letting people down from an encounter that didn't work out. I guess it was inevitable that someone would adopt the apps to the cruel game of 'pigging'. For the uninitiated, 'pigging' refers to the hideous practice (instigated by mostly immature young men) of asking women out as a joke or a prank. The term comes from the fact that the woman in question is unattractive and/or overweight. To be fair, this practice evolved before online dating apps even existed. Meanwhile, 'cat-fishing', involves creating a false identity to compromise or harm someone. There is evidence that 'cat-fishing' produces profound psychological damage for victims and caused suicides. False identities existed before the Internet; the apps put the activity on steroids. The most sinister activity driven by dating apps must be 'orbiting'. Anna Lovine coined the term 'orbiting' for situations when your ex watches your online activities and may seek to re-engage. Again, I suppose this is the Internet equal of the unhinged ex-partner hanging around outside your house. All a bit problematic. Meanwhile, there is an unbroken truth hovering in the background of the dating game. Males tend to marry down and across their social status. On the other hand, females seek out partners who are equal or higher in rank. Thus, by default, high-status women find themselves with a smaller pool of potential partners. For these ladies, dating apps provide a ready solution by doing the sorting. Dating apps aren't for everyone; they remove that first-encounter spark when the total person suddenly engages you. The instant judgemental swiping still strikes me as harsh. Have we conferred marketplace dynamics and a numbers game on a profoundly important human interaction? Thus, the feeling persists, that there is something creepy about the whole business.
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12/12/2020 0 Comments Lantau Tomorrow "The 'Lantau Tomorrow Vision' is typical of the concrete pouring solutions of the Hong Kong Government." Hong Kong ranks amongst the most densely populated places on the planet. Add to that a lack of land for development, a shortage of housing and you have sky-high prices. A car-park space can cost the same as a decent-sized detached house in the UK. Depending on location, a 400 square-foot flat can will set you back around HK$8 million. That's about £800,000 or US$1 million.
No wonder people are struggling to get on the property ladder. There is a school of thought that protests last year, were in part, spurred on by a perception that wealthy mainlanders are buying up properties. All Chief Executives have promised to tackle the housing issue without success. In the latest "I've got a great idea" Carrie Lam proposes building several artificial islands around Lantau. She aims to create a housing and business centre large enough for 1.1 million people — that’s equal to the population of Birmingham. A construction project on this scale is possible, and I do not doubt that Hong Kong could tackle it. Yet, I'm not so sure we can justify the expenditure and environmental impact. The cost comes estimated at HK$624 billion, which is a more than 50% hit to our General Reserve of HK$1,000.8 billion. Proponents asserts this money will come back in sales of land and property, while critics claim only the developers gain. Also, it's not evident that we've exhausted all other options to free up land. There is a considerable amount of space in the New Territories that is either misused, held by developers or capable of redevelopment. Yet, officials appear unwilling to tackle the vested interests who maintain control of this land. Besides, HK$500 billion would go a long way towards alleviating poverty or repurposing existing properties to improve living conditions. No wonder there is an outcry that Lam is "pouring money into the sea". There are many government claims about the project that don't stand up to scrutiny. For starters, the proposed population densities don't offer the less-cramped living suggested. Also, the transport links look set to create more bottle-necks. Conversely, the idea that the government can attract financial services and IT companies to locate there is fanciful. At best, this will be another dormitory town with most residents commuting elsewhere to work. With our economy battered by Covid-19, it remains uncertain that the government can fund the scheme and sustain other projects. The cost may lead to a standstill on all other initiatives. There are several options to fund the project. Nonetheless, someone will need to pay, and some aspects of the deal look like a money grab by the usual culprits. With a bond issue, the benefits go to the same people who profited from our dodgy MPF scheme. Meanwhile, putting all our eggs in one basket is not the best approach. In an age of climate change, creating low-level islands is a disaster waiting to happen. Take a look at Osaka Airport, which sits on reclaimed land. When Typhoon Jebi hit in 2018, the whole site flooded. With sea levels expected to increase more than three feet above 2000 levels by the end of the century, will flooding be an issue? The infrastructure to withstand tidal surges will push up the costs further. Time is also a factor. We have over 250,000 residents living in tiny subdivided flats or cage homes. The artificial islands will take a decade to appear, with housing units not expected to be ready until 2035 at the earliest. For many, that's too long to wait. The government needs to do something in the nearer term. Opposition to the project is building, while the usual big players are coming out in support. For me, the 'Lantau Tomorrow Vision' is typical of the concrete pouring solutions of the Hong Kong Government. Already, taxpayers are coughing up HK$590 million for studies. However, just this week, the government dropped plans for the Kai Tak rail link having wasted millions on consultancies. We need to avoid similar expensive blunders. With the population predicted to stabilise and then fall, it is debatable if we need such a massive project. As an alternative, a laudable start would be taking back land in the NT that is illegally occupied or used as storage. After all, let's not spoil this stunning scenery for future generations. |
AuthorWalter De Havilland was one of the last of the colonial coppers. He served 35 years in the Royal Hong Kong Police and Hong Kong Police Force. He's long retired. Archives
May 2022
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