‘Financial tsunami’ bigger than ‘97, banker says

Worst Still to Come for HK Amid Crisis
‘Financial tsunami’ bigger than ‘97, banker says
South China Morning Post Maria Chan, Cheung Chi-fai
and Agencies in Washington and Paris
5 October 2008

Despite the passage of the US government’s US$700 billion bank bailout, Hong Kong must brace for belt-tightening amid the global “financial tsunami”, the city’s labour chief and a top banker said yesterday.
HSBC Asia-Pacific executive director Peter Wong Tung-shun warned the impact of the crisis would be “far more severe” than that of the 1997-98 East Asian financial crisis.
“This will affect Hong Kong and the whole world,” he said. The effects would be felt for another 12 months and recovery would take “much longer” than a decade ago.
So far investors - including buyers of minibonds backed by bankrupt US bank Lehman Brothers, who scuffled with bank security staff yesterday - have been the biggest losers locally from the crisis. But both men warned its impact would grow.
Mr Wong expected Hong Kong businesses would have to control costs, but said mass layoffs were unlikely. Matthew Cheung Kin-chung, the secretary for labour and welfare, forecast jobs would go, however.
He said: “The financial tsunami will have a far-reaching impact. Enterprises may need to make manpower changes and there is a chance unemployment will rise, particularly in the finance and property sectors. Consumption will likely be hit too.”
China joined governments around the world in welcoming the US House of Representatives’ 263-171 vote in favour of the bailout.
The mainland’s central bank said authorities had contingency measures to minimise the impact of the crisis. The People’s Bank of China said it would strengthen co-ordination with the US and other countries to stabilise global financial markets.
“All countries have to co-operate in view of the current financial crisis,” a PBOC statement quoted Premier Wen Jiabao as saying. Maintaining rapid economic growth would be China’s biggest contribution to the global economy, he said.
Before signing the bailout bill into law, US President George W. Bush thanked lawmakers, saying: “We have acted boldly to help prevent the crisis on Wall Street becoming a crisis in communities across our country.”
Friday’s vote capped an extraordinary two weeks of tumult in Congress and on Wall Street, punctuated by urgent warnings from Mr Bush that the country confronted the gravest economic disaster since the Great Depression if lawmakers failed to act. And it was followed by sombre reminders on Wall Street, where enthusiasm over the rescue gave way to worries about obstacles still facing the economy, sending the Dow Jones Industrial Average down 157 points.
US Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson pledged quick action to get the programme up and operating.
Highlighting the ferocity with which the global crisis has swept into Europe, Belgium and Luxembourg scrambled to find a buyer for the rest of financial group Fortis after the Netherlands nationalised most of its Dutch units. Last week the three governments had injected €11.2 billion (HK$120.4 billion) to keep it afloat.
In Paris, the leaders of Europe’s four biggest economic powers held crisis talks on the global financial meltdown, despite disputes that killed off talk by French President Nicolas Sarkozy of a joint bailout package for European banks.
German Chancellor Angela Merkel and British Prime Minister Gordon Brown only confirmed they would attend after France quietly backed away from a joint fund. German Economy Minister Michael Glos warned “very well paid” bankers they must put their own houses in order.

Seven Words...RIP George Carlin 22/06/08

I fell in love with George Carlin as a youngster sitting in neighbour's basement listing to his album Class Clown. Been quoting the entire Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television riff ever since.
"There are 400,000 words in the English and seven of them you can't say on television..."
News of his death today really bums me out.
Here's piece from ten years ago that showed he'd never lost the love of the language.

"I'm a modern man,
A man for the millennium,
Digital and smoke free.

A diversified multicultural postmodern deconstructionist,
Politically anatomically and ecologically incorrect.

I've been uplinked and downloaded.
I've been inputted and outsourced.
I know the upside of downsizing.
I know the downside of upgrading.

I'm a high tech lowlife.
A cutting edge state-of-the-art bicoastal multitasker,
And I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I'm new wave but I'm old school,
And my inner child is outward bound.

I'm a hot wired heat seeking warm hearted cool customer,
Voice activated and biodegradable.

I interface from a database,
And my database is in cyberspace,
So I'm interactive,
I'm hyperactive,
And from time-to-time,
I'm radioactive.

Behind the eight ball,
Ahead of the curve,
Riding the wave,
Dodging a bullet,
Pushing the envelope.

I'm on point,
On task,
On message,
And off drugs.
I got no need for coke and speed,
I got no urge to binge and purge.

I'm in the moment,
On the edge,
Over the top,
But under the radar.

A high concept,
Low profile,
Medium range ballistic missionary.
A street-wise smart bomb.
A top gun bottom feeder.

I wear power ties,
I tell power lies,
I take power naps,
I run victory laps.

I'm a totally ongoing bigfoot slam dunk rainmaker with a proactive outreach.
A raging workaholic.
A working ragaholic.
Out of rehab,
And in denial.

I got a personal trainer,
A personal shopper,
A personal assistant,
And a personal agenda.

You can't shut me up,
You can't dumb me down.
'Cause I'm tireless,
And I'm wireless.
I'm an alpha male on beta blockers.

I'm a non-believer and an over-achiever.
Laid back but fashion forward.

Up front,
Down home,
Low rent,
High maintenance.

Super size,
Long lasting,
High definition,
Fast acting,
Oven ready,
And built to last.

I'm a hands on,
Foot loose,
Knee jerk,
Head case.

Prematurely post traumatic,
And I have a love child who sends me hate mail.

But I'm feeling,
I'm caring,
I'm healing,
I'm sharing.
A supportive bonding nurturing primary care giver.

My output is down,
But my income is up.
I take a short position on the long bond,
And my revenue stream has its own cash flow.

I read junk mail,
I eat junk food,
I buy junk bonds,
I watch trash sports.

I'm gender specific,
Capital intensive,
User friendly,
And lactose intolerant.

I like rough sex.
I like rough sex.
I like tough love.
I use the f word in my email,
And the software on my hard drive is hard core, no soft porn.

I bought a microwave at a mini mall.
I bought a mini van in a mega store.
I eat fast food in the slow lane.

I'm toll free,
Bite sized,
Ready to wear,
And I come in all sizes.

A fully equipped,
Factory authorized,
Hospital tested,
Clinically proven,
Scientifically formulated medical miracle.

I've been pre-washed,
Pre-cooked,
Pre-heated,
Pre-screened,
Pre-approved,
Pre-packaged,
Post-dated,
Freeze-dried,
Double-wrapped,
Vacuum-packed,
And I have an unlimited broadband capacity.

I'm a rude dude,
But I'm the real deal.
Lean and mean.
Cocked, locked and ready to rock.
Rough tough and hard to bluff.

I take it slow.
I go with the flow.
I ride with the tide.
I got glide in my stride.

Drivin' and movin',
Sailin' and spinnin',
Jivin' and groovin',
Wailin' and winnin'.

I don't snooze,
So I don't lose.
I keep the pedal to the metal,
And the rubber on the road.

I party hearty,
And lunch time is crunch time.

I'm hanging in,
There ain't no doubt.
And I'm hanging tough,
Over and out."

You can take the boy out of NDG but...

This post will only be of interest to a select few but I figured I'd throw it out there.
I joined an amusing Facebook group recently: NDG'ERS BORN BETWEEN 1960 AND 1985.
For sure the years have softened the focus a bit but I have strong, uniformly positive memories of growing up in Notre Dame de Grace, a multi-ethnic neighborhood slightly west of downtown Montreal.
So when I saw a couple of old friends among the roughly 200 'members' contibuting thoughts to the message board, pivotal events, mentors, 'the best friggin suvlaki shop in North America' etc I felt compelled to write.
The board only allows briefs, 1000 characters or less, so this is a somewhat longer version of that list.
For most of you these images won't make a whole lot of sense; for others though all I've gotta say is "Cinema V" or "The Carb" to set heads nodding.
Cheers
Grinch on Tour

I grew up on Grey Ave below the Villa Maria and later Cote St. Antoine opposite NDG Park, the axis around which my childhood and teenage years rotated. Some memories:
- Late-70s on the mound throwing smoke for Mosquito, Pee-Wee and Bantam-level baseball, and shagging flies with friends in the tall, buggy grass in left;
- Brutal British Bulldog (‘Mawwwseee’) and kick-hockey sessions in DOC school yard loosely monitored by the skeletal Brother Martin with his bell, leather strap and the wall-mounted collection of dead bugs outside his office;
- Smoking mum’s Rothmans Kings in the long-gone Claremont Theatre and then wandering over to the Trainatorium gag-shop next door for cigarette loads, garlic-flavored “Dentyne” bubble-gum and u-build plastic model Spitfires and Fokkers to paint and hang with fishing line from a bedroom ceiling amidst KISS Army and Skateboarder Magazine posters;
- The awesome skate ramp (circ ’79/80) with four-feet of vertical in the NDG Community centre, and chlorine migraines from the indoor pool next door;
- Park hockey and half a lifetime in Confederation (now Doug Harvey) arena including brutal 5:30 a.m. starts sharpening skates in Wilson’s pro-shop;
- Shops we knew as Blue Windows and The Greek at Decarie/NDG Ave that we robbed blind as elementary school kids, then skulked back to as young teens to buy cigarettes and porn mags;
- Summer evenings of "Panic", eluding the opposing team's hunters as they scoured the alleyways behind Grey Avenue, watching them gather their prisoners to be take to the 'safe' tree on Perry Wigram's front lawn. And mini-Grinch, sweating, scabby-kneed and covered in cobwebs and dried oak leaves nunched beneath a nearby porch ready to sprint from safety to 'free' his captives teammates;
- Launching plastecine dinosaurs from the roof of my buddy Kevin's apartment building into the crowds of "retards" at the McKay Centre for Deaf and Crippled Children below;
- Playing CCK (chase-catch-kiss) with the prettiest girls in Grades five and six. Guys, why did we run? Why did we hide? And where are you now Laurie Park?
- Standing on Oxford St. outside St Augustine's school one morning in July ‘79 with my baseball mitt waiting for Skylab to crash to earth (in Australia as it turned out). I had in mind a report about there being gold in that thar spaceship;
- All those years hauling a sled/wagon to deliver 120 copies of the 260-page (Saturday) edition of The Montreal Star under the watch of the mad depot manager Mrs. Radu;
- The high school winters avoiding skinheads and others who’d pound a scrawny kid in a maroon Loyola jacket and dress pants out of principle;
- My dog Trudy barrel-rolling down Cote St. Antoine after being hit by a speeding fire truck from the hall on Prud’homme, then ignoring a broken hip to continue the chase for a grey squirrel. The was one hell of a dog;
- Watching old-timer cops laugh off the clouds of ganja hanging over those early, rockin’ Sunday in the Park afternoons;
- The (real) Monkland Tav, the covered 105 bus stop opposite the post office at Wilson and Sherbrooke, Cinema V and The Carb(inier) brasserie in the basement of Alexis Neon Plaza that offered 2-for-1 $5 (solid glass) pitchers and cheap food: all fine drinking establishments when you’re broke and 16.

The Nation Builder

The following appeared in the Feb 2 edition of the Sydney Morning Herald.
The author, Paul Keating was prime minister of Australia from 1991 to 1996.

The death of Soeharto, the former president of Indonesia, gives all Australians a chance to assess the value of his life and the relationship between Indonesia and Australia.
More than any figure in the post-Second World War period, including any American president, Soeharto, by his judgment, goodwill and good sense, had the greatest positive impact on Australia's strategic environment and, hence, on its history.
In the 40 years since he came to power in 1965, Indonesia has been the ballast in South-East Asian stability and the foundation stone upon which ASEAN was built.
Soeharto took a nation of 120 million people, racked by political turmoil and poverty, from near-disintegration to the orderly, ordered and prosperous state that it is today.
In 1965, countries such as Nigeria and Zimbabwe were in the same position as Indonesia then. Today, those countries are economic and social wrecks. By contrast, Indonesia is a model of harmony, cohesion and progress. And the principal reason for that is Soeharto.
We can only imagine what Australia's strategic position would be like if Indonesia's 230 million people degenerated into a fractured, lawless state reminiscent of Nigeria or Zimbabwe.
For the past 40 years, we have been spending roughly 2 per cent of gross domestic product on defence - about $20 billion a year in today's dollars. The figure would be more like seven to eight times that, about $150 billion today, if Indonesia had become a fractured, politically stricken state.
Had Soeharto's New Order government not displaced the Soekarno government and the massive PKI communist party, the postwar history of Australia would have been completely different. A communist-dominated Indonesia would have destabilised Australia and all of South-East Asia.
So why have Australians regarded Indonesia so suspiciously, especially over the past quarter-century, when it is evident that Indonesia has been at the fulcrum of our strategic stability?
Unfortunately, I think the answer is East Timor and the wilful reporting of Indonesian affairs in Australia by the Australian media.
That media have, in the main, been the Fairfax press and the ABC. Most particularly The Sydney Morning Herald and to a lesser extent The Age.
This rancour, and the misrepresentation of the true state of Indonesian social and economic life, can be attributed to the "get square" policy of the media in Australia for the deaths of the Balibo Five - the five Australian-based journalists who were encouraged to report from a war zone by their irresponsible proprietors and who were shot and killed by the Indonesian military in East Timor.
This event was sheeted back to Soeharto by journalists of the broadsheet press. From that moment, in their eyes, Soeharto became a cruel and intolerant repressor whose life's work in saving Indonesia from destruction was to be viewed only through the prism of East Timor.
Rarely did journalists mention that Soeharto was president for almost 10 years before he did anything about East Timor. He was happy to leave the poverty-stricken and neglected enclave in his archipelago to Portugal, with its 300-year history of hopeless colonisation. Soeharto had enough trouble dragging Indonesia from poverty without needing to tack on another backward province.
But in mid-1975, communist-allied military officers took control in Portugal and its colonies abroad were taken over by avowedly Marxist regimes. In East Timor, a leftist group calling itself the Revolutionary Front for the Liberation of East Timor, or Fretilin, staged a coup igniting a civil war.
When Fretilin overran the colony by force, Soeharto's government became alarmed. This happened at the height of the Cold War. Saigon had fallen in April of that year. Fretilin appealed to China and Vietnam for help. Fearing a "Cuba on his doorstep", Soeharto reluctantly decided on military intervention. In his 33 years as leader, he embarked upon no other "foreign" exploit. And he would not have bothered with Timor, had Fretilin not made the going too rough. Indeed, Jose Ramos-Horta told the Herald in 1996 that "the immaturity, irresponsibility and bad judgment of the East Timorese provoked Indonesia into doing what it did". Xanana Gusmao also told anyone who would listen that it had been a "bad mistake" for Fretilin to present itself as a "Marxist" outfit in 1975.
But none of this stopped a phalanx of Australian journalists, mostly from the Fairfax stable and the ABC's Four Corners, from reporting Indonesian affairs from that time such that Australians could only view the great economic transformation of Indonesia and the alleviation of its poverty and its tolerance primarily through the warped and shattered prism of East Timor.
The Herald even editorialised in favour of an Australian invasion of East Timor, then Indonesian territory. That is, right up front about it, the Herald urged the Australian government to invade Indonesia. So rabid has Fairfax been about Indonesia and so recreant of Australia's national interest has it been.
Even as late as this week, the Herald claimed the achievements of Soeharto's New Order government "were built on sand", nominating Indonesia reeling from crisis to crisis after 1998, when the Herald knows that Soeharto did precisely the right thing in calling the International Monetary Fund in to help and that the IMF, operating under US Treasury prescriptions, kicked the country and Soeharto to pieces.
The decline in Indonesia, after 30 years of 7 per cent compound growth under Soeharto, had little to do with Soeharto and everything to do with the Asian financial crisis and the short-sighted and ill-informed IMF.
But more than that, Australian journalists knew but failed to effectively communicate that not only did Soeharto hold his country together, he insisted that Indonesia be a secular state; that is, a Muslim country but not an Islamic or fundamentalist one. In other words, not an Iran.
Wouldn't you imagine that such an issue would be matter of high and primary importance to communicate to the Australian community? That on our doorstep there is a secular Indonesian state and not a religious one, run by Islamic law. And wouldn't you, in all reasonableness, give Soeharto full marks for keeping that vast archipelago as a civil society unrepressed by fundamentalism?
Look what happened to us in Bali at the hands of a handful, literally a handful, of Islamic fundamentalists. Imagine the turmoil for Australia if the whole 230 million of Indonesia had a fundamentalist objection to us. But this jaded bunch of Australian journalists could only report how Soeharto was corrupt because his son Tommy, might have elbowed his way into some carried equity with an American telephone company or his daughter something with a road builder. True as those generalisations might have been, in terms of the weight of Australia's interests, the deeds of Soeharto's public life massively outweigh anything in his private affairs.
I got to know Soeharto quite well. He was clever and utterly decisive and had a kind view of Australia. The peace and order of his country, its religious and ethnic tolerance and the peace and the order of South-East Asia came from his goodwill towards neighbouring states and from his wisdom. He was self-effacing and shy to a fault. One had to tease him out of himself to get him going, but once got going, his intellectualism took over.
Soeharto lived in what we would call in Australia a rather old and shabby McMansion in Jakarta. I have been there on a number of occasions. He lived as simply as anyone of his high standing could live.
But Time magazine claimed that Soeharto had stashed away $30 billion-odd, as if those ning-nongs would know, presumably so he could race off to live it up in Miami or the Bahamas. Errant nonsense. Soeharto was an Indonesian who was always going to remain an Indonesian. He lived a simple life and could never have changed that.
I do not doubt that his rapacious family had the better of him and got away with lumps of capital they had not earned. Soeharto was a disciplined leader, but not a disciplined father. But to compare him with the likes of Marcos is nothing short of dastardly.
The descriptions of Soeharto as a brutal dictator living a corrupt high life at the expense of his people and running an expansionist military regime are untrue. Even Soeharto's annexation of East Timor was not expansionist. It had everything to do with national security and nothing to do with territory.
Like all leaders, Soeharto had his failings. His greatest failing was to underestimate the nature of the society he had nurtured. As his economic stewardship led to food sufficiency, education, health and declines in infant mortality, so those changes gave rise to a middle class as incomes rose. Soeharto should have let political representation grow as incomes grew. But he distrusted the political classes. He believed they would not put the national interest first, had no administrative ability and were utterly indecisive, if not corrupt. He told me this on a number of occasions. He would not let the reins go. Partly because he did not want to lose them, partly because he really had no one to give them to.
Soeharto's problem was he had too little faith in his own people, the very people he cared for most.
Whatever political transition he may have wished to have had, it all blew up on him with the Asian financial crisis of 1997-98. He had no democratic transition in place and, in the economic chaos, political forces wanted him to go.
In January 1998, nearly two years after I had left the prime ministership of Australia, I flew to Jakarta on my own initiative and at my own expense to see him the day he signed the IMF agreement with the fund's managing director, Michel Camdessus.
The IMF had tragically overplayed its hand the previous November and Soeharto was giving it a chance to dig itself out of a hole. He had a small window of opportunity. I thought that as a former head of government who was on friendly terms with him, I at least owed him advice of a kind I knew he would never get inside Indonesia: to take the opportunity of the IMF interregnum to say that he, Soeharto, would contest the next election but that he would not complete the term. That he would stay long enough to see the IMF reforms into place and then hand the presidency over to his vice-president.
Had he taken this advice, the process of political transformation would have been completely orderly. And a new administration could have set up the organs of democracy.
I discussed this issue with Singapore's Lee Kuan Yew and Goh Chok Tong, both of whom had Soeharto's and Indonesia's best interests at heart. Both gentlemen believed that I was in a better position to broach this subject with Soeharto than either of them. For two hours I had the president in his house with his state secretary, Moerdiano, and his interpreter Widodo. Fifteen minutes into the conversation, when I was making the case for him to step down, he stopped Widodo's translation and took my advice directly, in English. Moerdiano said to me in an aside at the door, "I think you have got him".
Soeharto followed me to the door, put his arms around my shoulders and said "God bless you" as I left. As it turned out, I didn't quite have him, and he hung on thinking he could slip through one more time.
But the crisis and the behaviour of the IMF and the US Treasury had marooned him. Completely determined to act constitutionally, he turned over his singular power, at his own initiative, to his vice-president to avoid any upheaval of the kind Indonesia had experienced during earlier transitions.
The new president, B.J. Habibie, then, by all due process, picked up the reins of government to deal with the continuing financial reconstruction and the long process of democratisation.
When the acting Foreign Minister, Robert McClelland, and I arrived in Indonesia for Soeharto's funeral last Monday, we drove the 30-odd kilometres from the airport at Solo to the mausoleum where he would be buried alongside his wife. For not one metre of those 30-odd kilometres, was there no person present. In some places they were six and eight deep, all holding their baskets of petals to throw at his cortege. They all knew they were burying the builder of their society and all felt the moment.
How many Australian leaders would have a million or so people to grieve for them beside the roadway? Soeharto's funeral was a tribute to what his life truly meant. I felt honoured to have been there but more than that, to have known him.

The Ol’ Croc is Dead; What Happens Now?

Former Indonesian President Suharto died Sunday, January 27, at 1310 local time after several weeks in and out of consciousness in a Jakarta hospital.
Rumours have been flying since he was hospitalized January 4 about the various medical and spiritual interventions being made: the kids will keep him alive at all costs; he's lucid and talking to visitors; he's a drooling brain-dead; he’s critical and about to die; he's already dead (multiple times) but it's being kept hush-hush because it's bad Mojo to die on this day in the Javanese calendar; his brain has been removed and placed in stasis for possible transplant into a host organism (actually I made that last one up).
It’s kinda hard to read the street mood right now because few will speak ill of the dead until it’s clear they're not going to come back and ruin the crops, infest the house with geckos or hypnotize your wife into handing over all her Bank ATM- and VISA cards and PINs to a stranger.
What I can see is that everyone who is supposed to be in my office today is here; the traffic along Jakarta’s main drag Jalan Sudirman is as nasty as ever and, once you sweep away the kilometer-long convoys of official cars speeding for the airport with their Harley-Davidson-driving police outriders, it appears to be business as usual. No wholesale tears or gnashing of teeth here.
The foreign correspondents have dutifully dusted off the obits they’ve had ready for years. I've got some early, amateurish version squirreled away somewhere since his first serious medical crisis back in 2000. There's an inevitable and dull predictability to the tone and content of the writing I've seen thus far. Breaks down like this: Suharto did a lot of good for the country over 32 years, it’s too bad about all those folks butchered on his watch, and the legacy of corruption and waste that bedevils Indonesia to this day.
The obits are quite correct though I would add a slightly less tangible but ultimately more dangerous product of Suharto’s rule: the fostering of a distinctively Javanese brand of Imperial Cynicism which, at its most refined produces the almost pathological lack of public and personal accountability (or shame) that today permeates every sector and strata of Indonesian society regardless of the volume and sophistication of the accompanying ethnic baggage.
Suharto’s legacy, like that of all 'great' leaders is hard to reconcile. It's impossible to lift a country of this size and complexity from the malarial bowels of the Third World (it didn’t qualify as the less colonial adjective ‘developing’ in ’65) to relative global competitiveness in three decades by observing all the niceties, singing Kumbaya around the campfire.
In the real world somebody's flowerbed is going to get trampled; someone's Dad is gonna vanish forever on the walk home from work; someone's family business is going to be stolen away from them and handed to shadowy interests. The question folks here need to consider – and won’t for a several doctoral thesis’ worth of reasons - is whether it was truly necessary and acceptable to butcher 800,000 - 2 million people (including some hard line, virulent Communists who would have certainly putsched back if the shoe was on the other foot) in nine months after the 'coup' in '65 to make it happen? Or see another quarter million, one-in-four, murdered and starved to death in East Timor, and countless tens of thousands mowed down by helicopter gunships and Scorpion tanks in Papua and Aceh.
Does the blood ledger ever balance out? Villages wiped off the map vs national electrical infrastructure built; ethnic Chinese raped and systematically marginalized vs national school and health curriculums created; mass graves filled with the macheted bodies of agricultural coop members in East Java and Bali vs regional stability and generally good relations with the neighbors; a paranoid and corrupt security apparatus that excels only in killing its own citizens vs relative ethnic and religious peace and stability.
Not surprisingly for most Indonesians it’s a matter of one’s personal proximity to the events and access to information about what has gone before that shapes a world view.
As a consequence, the overwhelming numbers of people are prepared to forgive Suharto (and to a lesser extent his security apparatus) their excesses. They’ve begun erecting about him an edifice of artifice and mythology centered around several basic tenets: that development was worth the human costs and that some (Acehnese, Papuans, Timorese, Labor activists, Chinese etc) kinda deserved their fates; that the armed forces from which Suharto (and the current president) emerged remains a central, unifying and stabilizing force which lamentably contains ‘rogue’ elements responsible for decades of excesses; and that ultimately it is understandable (indeed laudable) that the Old Man would dote on his kids (by providing them monopolies on key goods and services for example) but how could he possibly have known (kasihan!) that the little pack of veloci-raptors would be so conscienceless and rapacious?
But the story is by no means done. My gut tells me that part of the deal the country has cut with its conscience is the following: Now that the old man is dead, his shadowy and powerful patronage no longer stretching from the relatively modest Central Jakarta residence where he’s lived since resigning in May 1998 to the National Palace, surely the hounds will be released on his venal children and their playmates? Is it possible that a measure of the justice Suharto eluded might come crashing down on those closest to him? Could it be that the weakened, prevaricating current President will finally hit stride, securing himself a second term in 2009 on the back of a widely popular crackdown on Suharto-era cronies and corruptors?
And what if after an appropriate period of mourning the government fails to act against those that remain? Will the public tolerate it or are we on the cusp of another painful and inevitably bloody period of national upheaval?