Stories of the month ...

October 2009: On September 28, 2009, I was on a plane from San Francisco to Frankfurt. The Lufthansa layout of a 747 has no seat in front of 33A, so this is a good seat, and I was sitting there. 32B and 32C, the two seats next to the emergency exit were occupied by an elderly couple of Italian origin, maybe living in the U.S. - at least they spoke English very well and were reading English literature. Next to me, on 33B and 33C was an elderly French couple, with basically no knowledge of English - thus limiting conversations to a minimum. Both couples seemed friendly, in particular, the two elderly women kept smiling at me. But then, the expected unexpected happened. The Italian lady on 32B took possession of her personal world and lower the back of her seat to the maximum. The immediate reaction of the French lady on 33B was to put her hand on the top of the Italian lady's seat and shake it violently. She looked at me in disbelieve. How could this lady in front of her be so ignorant and arrogant and intrude into her space just because she might feel a little more comfortable that way. Peace left the area around rows 32 and 33, and it was clear that tension and conflict would prevail for the rest of the ~10 hour flight.

It is astonishing how easily little changes in our environment, particularly those that come completely out of our control, can turn a peaceful situation into a war-like state, and transform seemingly friendly old ladies into tense, aggressive fighters. Multiplying this capacity of individuals for rapid transformation by the billions, I am afraid that climate change, which will bring severe changes to many of us and intrude into our personal environment without us having much control over these changes, will lead to some rapid transformations of societies - with unpredictable consequences.

May 2009: I spent a week at the Lago Maggiore in Italy, not because I needed a break or had the rare chance of a holiday, no, I was there because Stresa at the Lake shores was the place where the 33rd International Symposium on Remote Sensing of Environment (ISRSE) took place. The theme of this years Symposium was Sustaining the Millennium Development Goals. Humanity, at least some of the leaders, have agreed on a set of goals to be reached in order to improve sustainability and to overcome some of the inexcusable sufferings that large parts of humanity have to endure today. Reachable are these goals only with sufficient knowledge about the environment, that is, the current state and the emerging trends. Rightly, somebody said that Earth observation is the eye of humanity on the planet.

However, sitting in the sessions and listening to one presentation after the other, I increasingly felt weird and disengaged. I was stunned by the lack of inspiration and forward looking of the speakers. There was no genuine acknowledgment of the challenge humanity is facing, no real enthusiasm of how Earth observation may contribute to meeting these challenges. Focus was on the technical achievements, demonstrated by long sequences of artistic picture of satellites, with an unclear message of how these satellites actually improved decision and policy making. Policy making and decision making were the buzzwords, never really defined, unclear as the accusations in Kafka's 'The Trail'.

At one time, when dosing away in a jet-lagged daydream, I was on a troubled airplane. People were showing to each other the latest pictures of failing parts of the plane that they had just taken with the most advance little cameras. Very few were discussing how these pictures could provide decision support for the pilots. However, most of them were bragging about their cameras, and how well they captured the detrimental events. Others were more occupied with pictures of the sunset that was going on in parallel to the plane falling apart. Then I realized I was not on a troubled plane: I was on a troubled planet. The 'eye of humanity' was looking at itself and at its beautiful design and exquisite capabilities. Thomas Reiter, the former German astronaut, was showing beautiful pictures of sunsets which he had taken during one of his space trips. None of the speakers was really occupied with the failing parts of the planet. Not once did I see the Millennium Development Goals mentioned to any more detail than the title, or even hear an assessment of how remote sensing has brought humanity closer to achieving these ambitious goals. All the money spent on the little gadgets of remote sensing to no other avail than to document in pictures of amazing quality what is going on, and even more so, to document the eye of humanity itself. And then, more than 800 people from all over the world getting together for what? Beautiful colors, spectacular events, great pictures - mainly of satellites. Are we that crazy?

April 2009: How much does a smile cost? On intercontinental flights operated by U.S. airlines, a smile on the face of the flight attendants is more rare than free upgrades to the first class. On these flights, the flight attendants often make me feel as if it was wrong for me to be on their flight. I try to adapt and to be on flights operated by European airlines whenever I can. In particular, I like Lufthansa, not because I am German, but rather because in the past smiles were so abundant even on the faces of those flight attendants serving in economy. But recently, there seems to be a sad tendency to less smiles there, too. Today, on a flight from Frankfurt to San Francisco, I was sitting in row 32, the first economy row behind business class. The flight attendants serving in economy seemed to be close to running out of smiles - so they were distributing them quite reluctantly.

Sitting where I was, I could see through a wide gap in the curtain in front of me down the whole aisle in business class. Close to the end of the long flight, when the flight attendants are tired and their smile reservoir is rightfully depleted, I watched a male and a female attendant walking down together this aisle in business class and distributing to their passengers little presents - nicely wrapped bags presumably filled with delicious pralines. Not only did the passengers get these thank-you gifts (which I always enjoy when I get a chance to be in front), they also got them with bright and perpetual smiles on the faces of the two angle-like figures. The smiles looked genuine.

So, how much does a smile cost? The price difference between the full return economy fare and a business class ticket is about US $3500.00. During the roughly 21 hours of a return flight, contact with a flight attendant happens roughly 10 times in economy and at least 30 times in business. Maybe half of the contacts in economy come with a smile (at least if I make a try to trigger one), while almost all contacts in business are smile-saturated. Thus, roughly 25 prolonged smiles come at a price of $3500.00. Not too bad: $140.00 for a decent smile. Since I value so much smiles on the faces of people, whom I treat with deep respect, and whom I allow to serve me, maybe I have to pay this price the next time I fly.

We all are used to the statement that there is no free lunch. But it would be great if there were some free smiles for those in economy. That would make traveling in economy less aggrevating and reduce the difference between those who have and those who don't. But these smiles would not come for free for Lufthansa. Lufthansa would have to improve working conditions for those in economy, so that smiles have a chance to regenerate. The sad trend mentioned above is not because of worse passengers or less friendly and careless flight attendants; the trend solely originates in deteriorating work conditions for those flight attendants working in economy.

February 2009: Today, at the DMV in San Diego, my wife asked the clerk behind the counter how they are dealing with the cut of several paid days a months, which Governor Schwarzenegger ruled in order to limit the State budget deficit, and she sighted that its hard to make ends meet. I remarked that, at least, she still had a job. She agreed, and expressed the hope that the good, encouraging speeches of Obama are signalling better times to come soon. My wife and she continued to exchange a few thoughts about the bad economy, and the clerk finally concluded: "What can we expect? We've been in the bushes for too long!" A simple but strikingly clear analysis of failed politics imposed on the U.S. for too long. We mentioned to her that in Trinidad people like to refer to the younger of the two Bushes as 'shrub', and she replied that she prefers the plural since there were two Bushes that were no good for the country.

Amazing, how simple language can capture the essence of a global crisis in one sentence.

January 2009: There was no story of the month that I personally was told or witnessed. Or were there too many? January 2009, a historic months when many significant events happened and much changed. Many stories were told all over the web, the media. What most impressed me in January 2009 was the inauguration speech of the new President of the United States. This speech was a demonstration of the way in which one can criticize the past by describing the desired present and future in clear words - without even mentioning the past explicitly ones. Take, for example: "We will restore science to its rightful place." Is there any better way to express that in the recent past, science did not have its appropriate place in our society? Another example: "We cannot compromise our values for safety." Again, is there any more powerful way to confront us with the fact that we have compromised our values in the irrational quest for absolute safety. Almost every sentence in the speech has such a deep powerful meaning: each describing how we can reach to a better world by acting according to our vision, not reacting to the visions of others, by reaching for what we 'want', not by opposing what others do.

In such a month of epic events, any story I could have written would not have added much to the choir of our society.

December 2008: At an almost empty restaurant integrated in the hotel at which I was staying during a multi-national conference with many participants from all over the world, enjoying a dinner in refreshing solitude, I witness the following: A young waiter accompanied a woman from Africa to a table where another colleague from Africa was already sitting and waiting for her. Walking past my table, the woman was biting into a small fruit-like piece of a bluish-pink color, which she obviously had picked up on her way into the restaurant at the restaurant's front desk. She asked the waiter "What is this?", and the waiter answered "This is not to eat", to which the African woman replied with the brush question "Then why did you put it there?" The shock in the waiter's face was betraying a complete lack of understanding of this question.

This brief encounter and dialog between an American waiter and an African woman illustrated extremely well the easy misunderstanding that can arise between people from a society dominated by unfulfilled basic necessities and a society dominated by overflowing abundance. In a society where hunger is an every-day experience of many, no one would put out a decoration that looks like food but is not eatable. In a society where many have too much, food-like decoration is common and not considered an unwanted reminder of not having enough to eat.

Which for me raises the question: Can we understand people from other societies without taking in the basic conditions of these societies and making their worries, unfulfilled needs, and longings to our own?

November 2008: The American society has a perforated floor. We all spend our lives jumping around in an attempt to avoid falling through the large holes and ending up in society's basement. Not all of us succeed. The lucky ones of those who fall through end up in Downtown San Diego. The less lucky ones spend winters in New York, Chicago, or Spokane.

Unfortunately, society's basement has a very high ceiling, no stairs up, and no elevators. Getting out of there is not easy. There is no way to just reach up to one of these holes and to pull oneself up again. Through the holes, the inhabitants of the basement can see those who still are in the upper level rushing through life and jumping over the holes. And in Downtown San Diego, it appears as if the ceiling is lowered during the day, and basement and upper level merge, but in the late afternoon the ceiling is lifted up again and the basement population crystallizes out of the daily mix. Some people call those who lost job and appartment, who live in the basement 'homeless' but this is a misnomer. Their home is a place on the pedestrian walk, on a broad banister in front of the city post office or under the front roof of the library. And for some nights, their home is in a shelter. Over some time, I noticed a middle-aged woman who came in her car in late afternoons to 9th Street, parked in front of the Women's shelter located above the post office, sat in her car and waited until the shelter opened. Most of them have established daily routines to keep clean, well dressed, the women often with make-up, and many of them are embedded in a social network. Like those in the upper level, many of them communicate with cell phones, make their appointments and meet for the night. Some live as couples, and have their arguments in their 'homes', their street dwellings. Some of them die in their 'homes', the street. 'Street dwellers' is what they are. But these streets are in the harsh basement of society.

If I had the abilities of a Pieter Brueghel, I would paint the two levels of society separated by the perforated floor. I would show the basement populated by those who were not fit enough or simply not lucky enough to avoid falling through the holes. I would show those above the floor trying a whole life not to fall through and those who benefit from pushing others into the holes or widening the holes. The painting would be a stunning illustration of the inexcusable failure of our modern society to provide a solid floor on which all individuals can develop according to their abilities. Unfortunately, I don't have painting skills that come anywhere close to Pieter Brueghel's.

But I can ask questions: Who will be the architects to build the stairs that are urgently need to connect society's basement with the upper level so that those who fall or are pushed through the holes and want to return may find their way up? Who will be the architect to design covers for the holes in the perforated floor of our society?

PS: While I speak of building stairs to get back to the upper floor, others are occupied with making the basement more habitable, see here ... but don't ask me what I think about that ...

Comments or questions? Send mail to Hans-Peter Plag.