How long is it okay to be resilient?

My unsettled stance with resilience, and the concept that it is our solution to combat the issues of changing environmental conditions in a globalized world, rests on the following question:

“How long is it okay to be resilient?”

These days, operating on Windows 2000 or an old Apple Macintosh will slow down our workflow significantly. These systems, while they can undoubtedly still function (and thus you might say they are “resilient”), are not suitable in today’s world of touch screens and Siris. I believe there is a timeframe for which it is suitable for a system to be resilient. After that threshold has passed, whether it’s one year or 20 years, we can no longer rationally resist change and adaptation. This is my concern with the current hot-topic development theory – resilience.

1000 words

People know and understand the meaning of the phrase, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” Despite the common consensus that it is figuratively true, it never really agreed with me. Sure, it’s not to be taken literally, but I would entertain myself anyway in the sitting rooms of doctor’s offices and dental offices scrutinizing the photos and paintings on the wall, attempting to find 1000 words of thought. They never came, at least not that many. Perhaps 20 words that I could count, but then I ran out of fingers and toes. When I could count past the number of my extremities, I no longer needed the disproof of figures of speech to entertain me, as magazines could then do the job.

It wasn’t until I was on a train to Antwerp that I came to an opinion on the matter. I was standing in between two train cars, between the sliding doors because it was too crowded on the train to stand elsewhere (people were even standing in the bathroom). It was here that I imagined myself falling through the thin floor, by some accident or miscalculation, and coming to a gruesome and tragic death on the train tracks of Holland, run over by a high-speed train on my weekend getaway to Antwerp. I imagined the ensuing fiasco. The tragedy on the news, the 100 or so fellow passengers that would now need a shrink, the public scrutiny over the safety of public transit, the angry mourning of my family and the policymakers struggling to come to an agreement on a suitable reactive solution. With this image in my mind, of news anchors and ambulances and politicians, I thought how different this was from a picture I saw of a train in India. People were standing and sitting and hanging onto all parts of the insides and outsides of the train in that picture. Surely someone must have died by now with so many people travelling like that in India. But you see, they die on a train and public policy doesn’t change. I die on this train and everything changes.

In a microeconomics class a year before, we talked about the value of a life. Something like 100 million or so, I can’t recall exactly. What bothers me is the definitiveness of which my professor said the disputable fact. It’s not like that everywhere. Fact is I’m much more valuable (in the short term) then a man or woman in the slums of India. I don’t say this with a big head professing my vanity to the world, I say this because it’s true. The value of a human life depends on where it’s been, where it is, and where it’s going.

So if you gave me a picture, say of a train in Holland, and asked me if it was worth a thousand words, I would say to you, “no, it is not.” If you gave me two pictures, say of one train in India and one of a train in Holland, and allowed me to compare them, discuss them in relation to each other, then I think I could certainly give you 1000 words that are worth your time.

Friday, February 24

Aside

Who knew that my driven curiosity with Microsoft Paint when I was 7 would lead me to use photoshop at 13, which to this day has helped me pay rent, find jobs, and dazzle clients and colleagues with my ability to make make magic with a computer. The same happened with Microsoft Powerpoint, and again with Microsoft Word, and Microsoft Excel. Just having a reliable computer around in the home was an invaluable learning experience and educational tool. Much like a library is to an avid reader who then goes on to write well (I was blessed enough to have that too), a computer is the essential that makes an individual capable of so much more. Sometimes we wonder what the value of technology really is. Put the laptop away and go outside. Get off facebook and go read a novel. But sitting in front of a screen, connected to powerful software and vast networks, we’re becoming experts on what is possible with technology and how it can help us day in and day out.

Whether everyone’s aware of this, of what’s possible in the long term and short with the computer they’re sitting in front of, that’s a different story.

Wednesday, February 22

Aside

It is a blustering, windy night in the Hague, Netherlands. I remember that the word “bluster” reminds me of Piglet, Winnie the Pooh, and the old Disney narrator. It was something I watched over and over again. Winnie would have a nightmare, of hephalumps and woozles (or however you spell it), but before I can tell you more the memory slips away. There is nothing left but the bits and pieces I can recall. It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’ll come back to me. Pooh wakes up from the nightmare and… There was a candle. I think. He had a hat on. The details become arbitrary, the memory lost its value. What was that movie, maybe I can look it up? Was it a movie?

I had this same feeling, premature and much too early, as I walked the streets of Brussels for the first time. I was a suburbs girl enchanted by old Europe and its cobblestone streets. These were the things I had grown up with in paintings on google images, in tiny pictures in Canadian history books. And all the while as I walked andĀ ogledĀ and ate and drank I thought, “I must preserve, as well as I can, my memory of this place so that I might not forget it.” That is the thought of a tourist, of someone who is living a dream. Days, weeks, years from now I will never be this suburbs girl in Brussels again. She will be someone I remember dearly, like “bluster” and Piglet and Winnie the Pooh and hephalumps and woozles. Someone will ask me, years from now, “what was Brussels like?” and I will try to remember the suburbs girl that was there while she worked as an intern in Holland. I might give you details of little value. There was a candle I think. The man had a hat on. What was that square, maybe I can look it up? And just like that, the memory and experience of Belgian chocolate and cobblestone streets and old Europe will be nothing more than a memory I can hardly recall.

Saturday, February 11

Aside

I discovered that Anne Frank was taller than me at 16. She was born German, myself Vietnamese. I guess that’s to be expected.

Not sure why there are ghouls and goblins at the city’s main square. I thought it’s more pleasant to have human statues. Odd.

Welcome to Amsterdam… “Do you have a long sheet of paper?” No, sorry. “Aw, alright thanks. Have a good day.” You too. “You look very nice by the way.”

No one tells you that you have to book ahead to eat at a restaurant. None of this just-walking-in business, like they do in Canada. It makes sense, these restaurants are all so small, they hardly hold 30 people.

February 05

Aside

I was looking around for a bookmark, having just finished chapter 2 of The Other Hand, by Chris Cleave. The only slip of paper I had sitting with me was a bill of 10 British pounds. It’s a moment like this when an economics student really begins to understand the lessons of introductory macroeconomics. I slipped the note in my book, even though a part of me was against it in principle. A bookmark is not worth 10 British pounds, but I couldn’t very well use the 10 pence coin sitting next to me either.