Mohammad and the mountain November 16, 2006
I won't go into the broader aspects of the problem, which I've touched on before. It has to do with our lack of "a sense of country," as I've put it, which is patent when you compare us to our Asian neighbors. Just look at the nationals of the other Asean countries, who will be gathering here soon, and us. We keep wondering how they've succeeded in life and how we've not, attributing it to all sorts of things, even to their authoritarian bent. We keep missing the simple fact that they have a sense of country and we don't. Suharto stole bigger than Ferdinand Marcos, but he never took the money out. They leave their countries as a last resort, we leave ours as a first.
But like I said, I won't go into that again here. I myself am not giving in to despair yet, simply because even as we speak I can glimpse the seeds of countervailing forces. Those countervailing forces are not in the form of incentives that the public and private sector can give, such as the Asian Development Bank proposes, which will be a trickle in the ocean given particularly that the ocean takes the form of the conscription of the entire educational system (nursing departments, functional English) to turn the local labor force into fodder for the world. Those countervailing forces are in the form of the mind-boggling technological changes that are turning the world, communications-wise, into one truly global village, much as Marshall McLuhan brilliantly predicted way back in the 1960s.
My point is this: Why should Mohammed feel compelled to go to the mountain when he can very well coax the mountain to come to him? Or for our purposes, why should we feel compelled to go out into the world when we can very well coax the world to come to us?
The new technology makes it possible. I caught a glimpse of that a month or so ago in one of our small items in this newspaper, in the ear of our front page on a slow day. It was a story about a service Bangalore is offering that is thriving magnificently. Bangalore, of course, is the IT capital of Asia. The service consists of gathering some of the best teachers in India to tutor American high school kids via on-cam, face-to-face, communication through the Internet. Those who subscribe to the service can ask their tutors any question they want about Geography, Math, and the various Sciences, and they are given answers complete with visual aids. Some tutors make their presentations with blackboards, as in a typical classroom.
The service is thriving because of sheer economics. Private tutoring in the United States goes for $40 an hour, the entire Bangalore package goes for $100 a month! In the United States, you'll have tutors who are probably grouchier than Groucho Marx and who will be constantly looking at their watches. In Bangalore, you can have tutors who are suffused with fatalistic patience, such as Salman Rushdie's brothers and sisters can be so suffused. All in all, a bargain by any standard, made possible by the digital revolution.
When I read that, the first thing I thought about was why we never thought about the idea in the first place. I wondered why we couldn't provide the same service, and so hold on to our professors who are queuing up for the universities in Singapore and elsewhere for lack of a decent living here. But then I realized why India has a natural advantage there. It's a country that continues to have a strong intellectual life, notwithstanding its teeming poverty and even widespread pockets of squalor. People there still read, and do so not because they have few other sources of amusement but because books sell for a song. Here only booze sells for a song, often literally. India has one of the cheapest prices in the world for books. The former Soviet Union used to have the cheapest, I don't know if India has gone past Russia there now.
I did think as well of our own call centers, the one thing that is mushrooming here faster than Jollibee burger shops. Well, better than nothing, even if the biggest skill it demands from its recruits is the ability to speak English like an Ateneo or La Salle student -- and even if Ateneans and La Sallians no longer speak that way. As Bangalore shows, you can have an accent thicker than curry sauce but get by magnificently in the world. But the call centers are significant not in and of themselves but for what they show, which is the way out of the rut. They show the fundamental paradox of our time and place, which is our burning need to go out into the world when we can easily summon the world into our doorstep.
I myself have quite another proposal than the ADB in this respect. That is for the public and private sector to move to inundate the countryside with PCs, and to introduce them to the kids in particular. The logic of that is that computer skills are basically language skills -- the PC is an extension of language, to borrow McLuhan's cute phraseology—and people learn languages faster as kids than as adults, the learning being more intuitive than cognitive. The further logic of that is that Filipinos have the gift of "ear" or oido, which is how we learn languages easily (look at the OFWs) and sing wonderfully (look at Philippine Idol etc.). Or so I ardently believe. Which is also why our IT skills are second to none. We produce great IT people, we just produce so few of them -- as compared with other countries.
But there you have it. To repeat: Why should Mohammad go to the mountain when the mountain can be made to go to him?
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