Gwyneth Paltrow's Hindu Haircut

Regular readers of this blog may not have been aware: Gwyneth Paltrow has had a haircut.

Gwyneth revealed that this was part of the healing process following the death of her father. "I was very very attached to my hair," she says. "I still had hair from when my father was alive. I made it a talisman. Then one day, on a shoot with Mario Testino, I suddenly said 'I need to cut it now'. It was almost as if it was part of the grieving process. I just had to let something go."

Gwyneth may not have known this, but she is a karma yogi going through the process of samskara.

A karma yogi fulfills her destiny, or achieves personal growth, or attains moksha, by facing up to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with integrity and dignity, in accord with her dharma. Rituals, like cutting one's hair when a father dies, are ways of ways of coping with grief and moving the soul along its natural journey.

Traditional Hindu doctrine might have preferred for the psyche to step into a new life-stage in front of the sacred fire rather than at a Mario Testino photo-shoot, but that surely is a minor detail.

Banker or Blogger (2)

A second innings then for this post...in response to Greg Pye's excellent comments.
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On the recent increase in US and UK Ginis, the OCED data does actually show a time series. The story doesn't really change if one looks back to the mid 80s. Here are the rankings from ~20 years ago from a sample of 24 (rather than 30) OECD countries:

1. Mexico 0.452
2. Turkey 0.434
4. United States 0.338
8. United Kingdom 0.325
12. Canada 0.287
15. New Zealand 0.271

- The biggest mover is New Zealand, which was a hot little economy in the 90s, and saw a sharp inequality rise then. Kiwi Ginis seem steady over the last decade

- The USA, and most of the OECD, have expectedly seen a steady rise in inequality
since the mid 70s, the earliest data on this table

- Inequality in Britain sems to have peaked 1990 and remained there or thereabouts ever since. The steep rise seems to have happened in Margaret Thatcher's time. Surprisingly, and maybe incorrectly, the last data point actually shows a small Gini decline in the UK
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On the irrelevance of national statistics, I do think inequality is experienced most powerfully within a tight reference group. As H.L. Mencken once said, "a man's satisfaction with his salary depends on whether he makes more than his wife's sister's husband". But I do think there is a difference between the angst induced by a brother-in-law's Ferrari, and the unease triggered by the suffering of millions of decent people.

What I'm trying to get at is the impact that that suffering has on the psyche. Does a keenly felt awareness of suffering push the psyche towards work, towards seriousness?

I love the thought that sensitivity to suffering need not be limited by national boundaries. Absolutely. But the boundary could provide the psyche with a prop with which to make peace with the suffering of innocents.

The central point in the first post was that the psyche tends to deal with injustice by wrapping itself around work, around seriousness. I'm sure it sometimes does. But the weakest part of the argument is that the psyche could, and often does, cope by imposing an identity on the people suffering, turning them into the "other". Race, caste, class, religion, nation...any schism will do. Once that boundry has been established, the psyche is free to go ahead and have fun.
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Was this post triggered, at some subliminal level, by the hoop la around Slumdog Millionaire?

Blogger or banker?

Here's the theory on people who work for a bank and blog for fun. Do they think of themselves as bankers or bloggers?

It boils down to their Ginis. You see, some people have magic lamps inhabited by blue-suited banker Ginis, some people's magic lamps have sailor-suited Ginis... :)

Actually, a Gini coefficient is a measure of statistical dispersion, and is a standard measure of income inequality in a society. My take is that people from more unequal societies are more likely to define their identities in terms of who they are at work.

Why?

Imagine a relatively well-off person living in an obviously unequal country. He needs to make peace with the fact that he lives a comfortable life, but the people from the slum/ favela/ ghetto/ council estate/ inner city live obviously miserable, abysmal lives. The sheer presence of that abyss, the unspoken fear and guilt that that abyss evokes, pulls at the psyche of the comfortably-off like gravity. The psyche protects itself from that pull by believing that privilege and comfort are deserved, earned, by hard work, by education, by qualifications, by seriousness.

In this unequal context, it is hard to think of oneself in purely frivolous terms. It feels like being the surfer on the beach in Apocalypse Now. Its the reason why cricket in India or football in Mexico are not just silly games played for fun, they are about the redemption of national pride.

So what do I expect to observe in the data? I expect people from more unequal societies to wrap their identity ever more tightly around their professional selves.

Here are Ginis for some of the OECD-30. Their rankings are:

1. Mexico: .474
2. Turkey: .430
4. USA: .381
7. Great Britain: .335
8. New Zealand: .335
12. Canada: 0.317

The two most unequal OECD members are Mexico and Turkey. Fortunately, I have friends from Mexico and Turkey who tell me their compatriots unambiguously define who they are in terms of who they are at work.

Also, to my earlier observation, Britain's Gini is the same as New Zealand, and is a lot lower than the USA. Canada is even further away from the USA than is Britain. So if the theory holds, Canadians should be a less likely to derive their identity from work than either Americans or Britons, despite Canada's stereotypical cultural location somewhere in-between the USA and Britain.

India is not in the OECD. So I looked up the World Bank's Ginis metrics, which show that India is better (i.e. more equal) than the USA.

While that is flattering, and says something important about the world's only superpower, the World Bank might be systematically underestimating South Asian inequality. Pakistan looks really good on the same metrics, more equal than the Netherlands, Canada, France or Switzerland. That doesn't ring true. My hunch is that India really is in the mid - 40s pack, along with Mexico, China, Jamaica and Turkey.

A more classical theory, which involves no melodrama about the gravitational pull of the abyss, is the impact of marginal tax rates on labour supply. More equal societies have higher marginal tax rates. People therefore have less reason to work hard to earn money. They therefore invest more of their time, and identity, in leisure rather than labour.

I buy into the conventional theory, but it doesn't quite feel complete. Maybe that is because I remember an India with high marginal tax rates, in Indira Gandhi's time, when people still wrapped their identities around their work, even if they didn't work especially hard. The ways in which people construct their identities change more slowly than tax policy.

A first class map

Here's a cricketing puzzle that's got me stumped.

England has about 39 counties or shires, or maybe that should be 42, or maybe even 46, an interestingly vague number unlike the unimaginative precision of the 50 American states...but the English taste for vagueness is not what this post is about. However one chooses to count, 18 adds up to less then half the English counties. Yet, only 18 counties (the darker coloured counties on the map above) play first class cricket. How did this come to pass?

For instance, Shropshire, that fabled land where the Empress of Blandings covered herself with such glory, would surely have a deep rooted cricketing culture? Or consider Lincolnshire, a well-populated county wedged in between the cricketing powerhouses of Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire. Surely Lincolnshire would be able to muster a decent county team? Club cricket is played in both Shropshire and Lincolnshire. But both seem content to remain Minor Counties, without objecting to the condescension loaded into that term.

Even more mysterious, Durham, the current champions, are the only Minor County to have been promoted to the first class level in 80+ years. This was a one time "historic" event. There is no mechanism by which the top Minor Counties get promoted to the first class level, and the weakest first class counties get relegated to the minors.

This instinctively feels odd to me, as an Indian cricket fan, because the growth of cricket outside India's traditional metropolitan centers is one of the most fascinating changes in Indian cricket over the last 25 years.

The fit and proper persons test

Should the England Cricket Board have ever been doing business with Mr Allen Stanford?

BBC's Radio 4, with a bit of help from Twenty20 hindsight, think not. The BBC have a point. There always was something just a little fishy about the Texan billionaire. The ECB should have applied a "fit and proper persons test", a general sniff test, to check if this Stanford guy was someone they want to do business with.

Or should they?

The trouble with sniff tests is that it is really hard even for well intentioned, honest and experienced people to know exactly what they're sniffing. A generation ago, any sniff test run by the ECB would have failed anybody who was not white, well-bred and Oxbridge educated. Would that have been good sniffing? Or prejudice? One of the great things about the anonymity of markets is that is harder for prejudice to prevail.

There must be an intelligent middle ground somewhere between prejudice and Stanford...but its never obvious how to be both fair and prudent.
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An apology: a previous version of this post mentioned Mr Adam Sanford, a cricketer who played for the West Indies in eleven tests, instead of Mr Allen Stanford, the shady Texan financier. Apologies to Mr Adam Sanford

Boars, Bears and Core Competencies

Being an omnivore is a winning strategy for bears and boars. Does the same logic work for business corporations?

Most management thinkers like corporations to be specialists (like anteaters) rather than omnivores (like boars or bears). CK Prahalad and Gary Hamel, the Core Competency gurus, usually advise businesses to stick to their knitting, do what they do best, and buy the rest on the market. This is not an especially new idea. Think back to Adam Smith’s pin factory or David Ricardo exhorting Portugal to stick with making wine and buy English cloth. Specialization leads to efficiency, which raises productivity and therefore incomes.

But are specialists too fragile? If one wants to think about businesses as institutions which are meant to be resilient to the madness which sometimes infects markets, maybe boars and bears are better role models than anteaters, hummingbirds or cheetah.

Pigs Gone Wild

An American friend I was dining with last week was talking about her life in Mechanicsville, VA. Her neighbour is a wild hog hunter. Maybe he has a boring day job, like being a mechanic or something. But hunting wild hogs is what he really does.

That brought back to life this marvellous story. Wild hogs, feral swine, the offspring of escaped farm pigs which copulated with wild boar imported from Europe as game, are thriving across the vast American wilderness. And with them is thriving a culture of guys who hunt wild hogs, accompanied by packs of dogs, armed with knives, shotguns or even bows and arrows, with the Confederate flag emblazoned on everything they wear.

In America, people hunt hogs. In Britain, hogs hunt people.

Ms. Carla Edmonds, a landowner in Gloucestershire, first encountered wild boar when she and her two dogs were riding along a path in the Forest of Dean, about 100 yards or so from the main road. “I saw a group of 20 or more. I couldn’t make out quite what they were, but then I could see they looked like pigs.” Ms. Edmonds’ dogs started barking and her horse became agitated. The herd of boar gave chase. “I could see them charging at huge pace” she said. Her horse was seriously agitated by the experience, and took a long while to calm down, and a less experienced rider might even have been thrown off her horse.

Subsequently, the wild boar dug up about 100 square feet of the Edmonds’ grounds. But despite these intrusions, Ms. Edmonds and her partner think the boar are “brilliant” and that “it was amazing...would love to see them again”. She may well have an opportunity to do so. After having been hunted to extinction 300 years ago, wild boar have reintroduced themselves to Britain spontaneously and now also live in Sussex, Kent, Hampshire and Devon.

What makes wild boar, Sus Scrofa, so successful? The same factor that makes Homo Sapiens so successful?

The thought was triggered by a book I read back in the 80s, Omnivore by Lyall Watson, a zoologist who observed that our evolutionary resilience owes a lot to our omnivorous diet. Boars (and bears) are omnivorous higher mammals, like us.

Setting Free the Bears

Here’s a heart-warming success story, at a time when good news is a bit thin on the ground.

I visited Wildlife SOS' Agra Bear Rescue Facility earlier this winter. This is part of a program to rescue dancing bears from captivity, and to rehabilitate both the bears and the kalandar families who once depended on dancing bears for their livelihood.

- The rescue facility is a very nice retirement home for the former dancing bears, on a reserve forest between Delhi and Agra

- The past these dancing bears have endured is terrible. Typically, young bears are captured by poachers after the parents have been murdered. They are sold to kalandars, who torture the bears their entire lives to make them perform

- The rescue program essentially buys bears back from the kalandars, and relocates them at this centre where they are well looked after by professional vets. I was especially impressed that the vets were thinking about the bear’s mental state, getting traumatized rescued bears to engage by playing with a ball or climbing a trestle

- Visitors are allowed in only by prior appointment, and are accompanied by wildlife professionals. Otherwise, visitors who have paid good money to see bears may expect to be “entertained” to get their money’s worth, which would create exactly the wrong environment for the bear’s rehabilitation

- There is no breeding program. The rescued bears are simply not in shape to sire a bloodline. The rescue facility is supported only by charity

- The main reason to believe the program will work, longer term, is that it is a buy back coupled with social services. Kalandars get a substantial lump sum, and are being supported in moving on to a new life. One family featured on the visitor centre video used this buy-back money to buy a second hand autorickshaw. Kalandar children are now sent to school, for the first time in over 500 years

- Dancing bears, and the attendant cruelty, have been around since medieval times across all of Eurasia. The Indian program is a part of a larger worldwide effort to rescue dancing bears. The last dancing bears in Europe were rescued as recently as 2007, in Bulgaria. Turkey rescued its last dancing bear in 1998

There is a tantalizing moral question hanging at the edge of this story. Why does this matter? Why is it worth ending the bears’ suffering? Is it because of the acuteness with which bears can experience suffering? I’d be less moved by the suffering of invertebrates. Is it because so little is at stake? I can see the argument for testing life saving drugs on higher mammals, but suffering for the sake of entertainment feels unambiguously wrong. Is it because the horrors we have inflicted on ourselves, from Auschwitz to Abu Ghraib, have taught us that to be human is to be humane? Or more plausibly, that to be civilized is to be humane? Does a society that experiences success in preventing suffering, of whatever sort, build momentum and commitment that serves the cause of preventing even more grievous suffering?

I’m not trying to answer these deeper questions here. I’m just happy that Ravi the bear can gambol down a forest path, keeping pace with my sprinting five year old nephew, just because he wants to.

Video game or adventure?

"Bosses complain that...Net Geners demand...an over-precise set of objectives on the path to promotion (rather like the missions that must be completed in a video game)." Thus spake the Economist about Net Geners, or Generation Y, those born in the 80s.

The Economist is, as usual, not untrue but a bit harsh. Many people born in previous decades, including me, have thought in terms of "mission accomplished, so I'm entitled to a promotion". But the metaphor, career as a video game, is apt.

In today's economy, the video game no longer works as advertised. Missions accomplished are being quickly replaced by even more arduous missions to accomplish. But the promotions and bonuses to sweeten the journey, which were a part of the deal, are no longer happening. This heightens the angst in the zeitgiest, we all feel like smashing our broken Nintendos.

So, it was refreshing to hear a different metaphor on Radio 4 last week.

Sean B Carroll describes the careers of biologists following in Darwin's footsteps; these careers were not games but adventures, defined by both spirit and deed. Carroll picked this phrase, adventure being defined by both spirit and deed, from CW Ceram, who wrote about "archaeology as a wonderful combination of high adventure, romance, history and scholarship".

This spirit of adventure - with its acknowledgment that every career is a journey into the vast unknown, where the familiar rules no longer apply, where one will make fast friends and combat appalling evil, where there is the possiblity of both spectacular success and awful tragedy, a journey which is essentially a journey of the spirit in which the greatest challenge is to find truth and integrity - this spirit of adventure is sadly missing in corporate life.

Can this spirit be introduced? Individually, yes. A lot of this spirit probably does exist, in private. But institutionally? Maybe...though I'm not about to ask the HR staff to inject the spirit of adventure into my workplace.

"So, what do you do?"

In New Zealand, when this question is asked, it means "do you sail or do you hike?". Not "are you a lawyer or a banker?". Some good Kiwi perspective for these troubled times.

Is this true? Heard it from a colleague of mine, a big outdoors enthusiast, who spent a year in Kiwi-land on a working holiday. Context matters; a management consultant who flies in from Hong Kong would have probably met more people who describe themselves as Business Systems Analysts rather than as (amateur) Yngling Class yatchsmen. But the question is still meaningful: when asked in a neutral context, which identity do people assume? I suspect, and hope, that the story I heard is still true when "So, what do you do?" is asked in a neutral context. Kiwi readers...any comments?

My own culture, the culture of urban middle-class India, mostly devout Hindus and a smattering of Sunnis and Catholics, who live by an impeccably Protestant work ethic, is very different. Back home, you are who you are at work. This is great when one is gunning for 10% GDP growth, but might make India's collective psyche a little less resilient to the business cycle.

This assumption is expressed in sometimes quaint ways: in a typical South Indian wedding invitation, the bridegroom's name is suffixed by his educational qualifications, the name of his employer and his rank/ designation. Or think back to Sen-saab, IAS, from English August; his identity cannot be decoupled from the fact that he is an Indian Administrative Service officer.

This assumption about the source of identity defines an interesting cultural axis.

My Chinese friends tell me that China is pretty close to my slice of India. My reading of Memoirs of a Geisha suggests that Japan, if anything, is further out on the same axis. The USA is, in my personal experience, only a little bit more laid back than India.

England, surprisingly, is a lot closer to New Zealand than the USA. A typical conversation after a game of squash might go:

Prithvi: "So, where do you work?"

English squash player: "About eight miles off the M1".

The same conversation in sub-text should read:

Prithvi: "How do you make a living?". Since I am well brought up and cosmopolitan I don't follow that question up with "So, what is your salary?", which would be quite acceptable at home

English squash player: "How I make a living is strictly my business, but I'm too polite to tell you to butt out, so I'll say something neutral"

I guess England is in Europe after all.

Grabbing the SKU Rationalization bull by the horns

The day after Pongal is mattu Pongal, literally cattle Pongal. The idea is to thank the cattle for their help with the harvest. The cattle are fed sugar cane, which is a nice alternative to hay. They are decorated with flowers and bells, their horns are painted, and they are proudly paraded through their home towns.

Asian Paints, India’s leading paints brand, markets small cans of paint in festive colours during the Pongal season, targeted specially at the horn-painting market. Cool. This is the work of India Inc., woven right into the fabric of Indian life.

Except... extensive googling earlier today reveals no evidence that this Pongal SKU (stock keeping unit) actually exists.

I first heard this story about twenty years ago from my father. My dad was a marketing professional; he was probably trying to impress on his teenage son that marketing is cool, and in that mission he succeeded. Is there a version of events that could make my dad’s story not only successful, but also accurate?

Perhaps 20-25 years ago paint was mixed in centralized factories, packaged in cans, and then distributed nationally. This would have meant managing a system with literally millions of colour * can size combinations. Today, pigments and a paint base are probably distributed independently, and mixed and packed at the point of sale. So the farmer painting a bull’s horns can now buy a small quantity of paint, in the colour of his choice, at a retail point in the local farmers’ market....

Or maybe painting contractors re-sell the small sample cans they get free from paint companies to wholesalers, who in turn bundle these small paint cans into special Pongal packages, which include sugar cane stalks, flowers, new clothes, luridly illustrated religious calendars, and cans of paint, to sell at local farmers’ markets.

Either way, the one thing I’m pretty sure of is that the work of India Inc. is woven right into the fabric of Indian life. Asian Paints did try to build this Pongal connection into their brand identity with this excellent TV commercial. Enjoy.

Happy Pongal from the Grateful Dead

Reach out your hand
If your cup be empty
If your cup be full
May it be again...

These words are from Ripple, a classic Grateful Dead song released in 1970. They were on my mind because it was Pongal earlier this week.

Pongal is the main harvest festival along the South East coast of India, where I'm from. Pongal is celebrated by boiling milk in every home; it is literally the moment when the steaming milk brims over, symbolizing abundance.

The Grateful Dead clearly understood the symbolism. So does the Jamaican bloke who makes cappuccinos at the tennis club down the road, there's always a nice head of foamy milk topping off the (expensive) brew.

Happy Pongal to all readers of this blog.

Rules that are meant to be broken, and Broken Windows

I had gone with my children and their cousins for a swim at the Madras Club. My 14 month old nephew was swimming for the first time. I was glad that this rite of passage happened at the Madras Club. My generation of cousins have spent many hours swimming here, accompanied by my father or grandfather. I thoroughly enjoyed the moment, and took a few pictures to remember the occasion by.

By some obscure club by-law taking photos at the poolside is not allowed. I knew about the rule; it’s not a bad rule per se in the age of the internet. I ignored the rule. Nobody objected. A sense of proportion, common sense, prevailed over rigid bureaucracy. Good call.

Except...I have long been a fan of the broken windows theory. This theory maintains that small rule-breaks send out a signal that nobody is in charge, and lead to progressively more severe rule-breaks. For instance, if a window in a building is broken and is left unrepaired, the rest of the windows will soon be broken. A building with many broken windows left unrepaired will soon be looted, and so on. I was delighted to read about experimental evidence confirming this theory.

A sense of proportion and broken windows, do the two thoughts sit together? Apart from the profound truth that rules are great as long as they don’t inconvenience this blogger.

Maybe context matters. My (self-indulgent) interpretation is that in small, personal, closed homogenous groups, when the shadow of the future is a real force, when the stakes are low, broken windows is overkill. At an extreme, broken windows within a family would be pathological. At the other extreme, a sense of proportion is not going to manage millions of fleeting, anonymous interactions on the streets of a city, or in any marketplace. Simple, explicit, rigidly enforced rules are necessary in this context. A private privileged member’s club in my hometown is a lot closer to the family end of that scale.

Bodyline is still so resonant in cricket because that was the point at which the balance tipped. Before bodyline, cricket defined, and was defined by, an implicit gentleman’s code. Douglas Jardine was the man who declared that the game was now too big to be contained within a gentleman’s code.

What they don't teach you at the Australian Cricket Academy

A point worth making when it is obvious, because it will be quickly forgotten.

Cricket schools, and more generally, cricket systems, don't produce great cricket teams. They do produce good teams. The vital gap between good and great is, unfortunately, something that can't be taught at school.

The reason this is worth remembering is that the Australian cricket system, including the Australian Cricket Academy, got a lot of credit for Australia's domination of world cricket through the 90s and the early 2000s. Even at this dark moment for Australia, when the talent cupboard is looking bare, the system is working as well as it ever was.

The system - the ACA, the first class structure, grade cricket, schools cricket, talent scouts, sports science, the whole shebang - just ensures that Australian cricket is competitive, that standards never go into free fall like in the Windies. The Aussie system is very good, but not fundamentally different from the cricket systems in England, India or South Africa.

What made the Border-Taylor-Waugh cricketing dynasty was not the Aussie system, but a bunch of exceptional players.

From Bombay to Baramulla

Here is an argument I heard a lot of six months ago, which, since 26/11, seems so facile that it has vanished from the debate. It is worth noting how dangerous this argument is right now, because this argument will find plausible new clothes and re-appear in six months, or a year, or in six years.

The argument goes roughly as follows:

Kashmir is not worth the bother. Let it go. Give it to Pakistan. Or give it independence. Once the vast resources invested in Kashmir are freed up, India can carry on realizing its manifest destiny as a great nation that all of humanity looks to for moral, spiritual, technological and economic leadership.

This argument was well expressed by Vir Sanghvi, in this piece in the Hindustan Times in Aug 2008. Vir Sanghvi is the Editorial Director of the Hindustan Times, the former editor of Sunday magazine, a fairly mainstream journalistic voice I've agreed with many times in the past.

What 26/11 made painfully obvious is the naivety of this notion: that a surgical excision of Kashmir from India would result in a quid pro quo reduction in violence on this side of the border. This notion now looks as shallow as the conceit, back in 1947, that partition would “solve” the problem of plural identities in India.

India’s federal, democratic structure is not perfect, but it is designed well enough to accommodate the many distinct identities within India. Vir Sanghvi correctly points out that secession movements inspired by language, race and religion have been successfully accommodated within India multiple times, in places like Tamil Nadu, Mizoram and Punjab.

The reason the federal, secular, democratic framework of the Indian constitution does not work for Kashmir is that a scary number of the people who claim to speak for Kashmir are not Kashmiris, and don’t especially care about the political expression of a Kashmiri identity. They are international jihadists. Palestine, Chehnya, Kashmir, Iraq, Afghanistan, American tanks on sacred Saudi soil, Western decadence, apostate regimes in the Islamic world, insults to Islam in Danish newspapers – any grievance is grist to their mill. Understanding who these jihadist terrorists are and what these terrorists are trying to achieve is essential to understanding Kashmir in context, and to getting a sense for what it might mean to surgically excise Kashmir from India.

Terrorism is not especially Islamic. The personal psycho-drama that happens within a terrorist is neither mysterious, nor Islamic, nor the by-product of failed societies. It is commonplace. David Kilcullen, a brilliant Australian anthropologist who first learnt about terror as a soldier serving in Indonesia, gets his students to watch the film Fight Club to understand a terrorist’s psychology.

In essence, contemporary jihad, like all terrorism, is a rational political strategy. It was invented as a modern political strategy in 1946, when David Ben Gurion authorized the bombing of the Hotel King David in the then British Protectorate of Palestine. The consequence of this bombing was that Clement Atlee expedited the withdrawal of British forces from Palestine, thereby establishing the sovereign state of Israel. Wikipedia maintains that a former Prime Minister of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, took part in celebrations to mark the 60th anniversary of this attack, organized by the Menachem Begin center. The most ruthless terrorists in the world today are probably Hindu Tamils in Sri Lanka. The consequence of their ruthlessness, especially in murdering dissenting Tamils, has been that theirs is the only audible voice that claims to speak for Lanka’s Tamil people. The PKK, led by Abdullah Ocalan, killed 40,000 innocent Turks in the name of Kurdistan, winning the sympathy of bleeding heart liberals in Western Europe as a "people without a nation". Danielle Mitterand, the French President's wife was an public supporter of Ocalan, and pleaded for clemency in sentencing when Ocalan was captured by the Turkish army. The hijack of IC 814 from Kathmandu to Kandahar in 1999 led to the release of Masood Azhar, a Jaish e Mohammad operative believed to the involved in the attacks on Mumbai. Another of the IC 814 terrorists released, Omar Sheikh, was involved in the murder of WSJ journalist Daniel Pearl.

The most successful terrorist attack of all time, purely in terms of the political pay-off, must be 911. It resulted in the Al Queda being addressed by the world’s only superpower like it was a force of equal stature. Their preferred tactic, suicide bombings to murder non-combatants, is now dignified by the term War on Terror. Before the War on Terror, the Al Queda was a toxic but small fragment left over from the Soviet war in Afghanistan, with no easily identifiable outcome it was working towards. It felt, or could have been made to feel, like an anachronism. It might have struggled to capture the imagination of young people; it might have struggled to stay alive another generation. That is no longer a problem, not for the Al Queda.

It is now crystal clear that there is no morally justified use of terror, exactly like there is no morally justified use of genocide. It is also clear that terrorism is growing alarmingly because terror works. The only way in which the world-of-order can defeat terror is to make it a strategy that does not work.

Terrorists cannot be engaged and defeated in open battle. They need to be starved. They need to be deprived of the oxygen of media exposure, of new recruits, of arms, of money. Most importantly, they need to be deprived of the sweet smell of success.

The world-of-order needs to realize that this victory will be won slowly. This victory will involve intelligence, media management, paranoia, nonchalance, ruthlessness, mercy, narcotics control, anti-money-laundering operations, inter-national co-operation...lots of stuff. There will be no spectacular television-friendly signing of treaties that constitute a “solution”.

This is the context in which the Kashmir situation must be understood. India’s political class has got this one right. Kashmir needs to stay within the Indian Union, with as humane a police/ military presence as is possible. Not because of jingoistic nationalism. But because throwing a hunk of juicy red meat to the beast of international terrorism, breathing energy and life into the beast, is the most dangerous and irresponsible thing any civilized nation could do, today, or at any time in the foreseeable future.

Dravid's slump in form

I am on vacation in India. One of my nephews and I are vegging out in front of the TV on a Monday afternoon at my in-laws place, while the rest of the family naps. We are watching India nurdle along at 2 runs per over on the fourth afternoon of the Mohali test against England.

The commentators don't have a whole lot to talk about. We are watching endless replays of Dravid's stumps being shattered by Stuart Broad. Are horrible pictures like this a sign of Rahul Dravid's decline? Or does this just happen sometimes to any batsman, however great? And what to read into his century in the first innings of the Mohali test? The commentators are blathering on and on...for long enough for my inner-analyst to want to get beyond the balther...

The commentariat all agree that Dravid is suffering a slump in form. What, unfortunately, has not been properly examined is whether Dravid has really been scoring fewer runs than before, or whether the perceived slump in form is nothing more than randomness playing out. It is entirely possible that Dravid is batting as well as he ever has, and that the dice just haven't rolled his way. The mind is very good at spotting patterns, especially when there aren't any.

This question is inspired by Moneyball (recommended reading for any cricket fan). Moneyball is about how statistical analysis forms the foundation of a winning baseball team, the Oakland Athletics. It reports on persistent sporting myths that statistics busts. For instance, there is no such thing as a clutch hitter, a batter who does especially well in vital situations. Or that there is no such thing as a hot hand, a streak in basketball when a NBA player is "in-the-groove" and landing every shot in the basket.

Baseball is now enriched by a Society for American Baseball Research. The American Statistical Association now has a section dedicated to sports statistics. It is a pity that this quality of statistical analysis has not been applied to cricket, despite the richness of the data available. It is also an opportunity for a smart young cricket-loving statisticians. Calling S. Rajesh of Cricinfo?

To give the interested (geeky) reader a flavour of what is possible, here is the outline of a statistical analysis that would shed more light on Dravid's form than anything that has appeared in the media so far. None of the technique described below is very complicated, or goes beyond material taught routinely at the undergraduate level. I would be delighted to see this analysis available in the public domain along with a well documented methodology and explanations, and expect no credit or authorship rights. Also, a disclaimer. I am not a professional statistician; my knowledge of statistics is mainly as a customer to statisticians. Any feedback from readers with more statistical knowledge, especially around time-series analytic techniques could improve this analysis, is appreciated.

Outline of desired analysis
Step 1: compile the dataset
Each record in the dataset is one of the ~25000 balls Rahul Dravid has faced in test cricket. Each record in the dataset has the following fields: outcome (which takes the values 0-6 and W, all represented as class variables), opponent (Australia, England etc.), bowler, bowler type (pace, military medium, leg spin etc.), location, home away flag (derived from location), innings (which-ith innings of a test match), position played in the batting order (mostly #3), number of balls already faced in the innings, date innings started, a random number (for validation in step 5).

I don't think any of this data is hard to obtain. It is reported in the ball by ball commentary on Cricinfo, which I'm assuming is professionally archived. This list is not meant to be exhaustive, most datasets come with a few plausible covariates that can be thrown in and played with.

A couple of fields I would love to add, which may be harder to obtain, are length (full, length, back-of, short) and line (outside off, off, middle and leg, outside leg). I believe this is the data the team statisticians sitting in the dressing room code in their laptops.

Examine the dataset to get familiar with patterns, especially with potentially tricky variables like bowler or location. For instance, a bowler Dravid has faced for 12 balls may have dismissed Dravid twice. Worth being aware of weird things in the data before running any regressions.

Step 2: run the regression model
Model the outcome, number of runs scored, wicket or dot-ball as a multinomial logistic outcome. This class of models are used in transportation analysis - every commuter has the choice of multiple models of transportation - or in brand analysis - every consumer has the choice of multiple brands of breakfast cereal. Similarly, every ball has the choice of different outcomes - from sixer through dot-ball to wicket.

Allow the model to see all the fields listed above. Do not constrain the model. All two-term interactions. Just maximize the fit. Essentially, the computer is finding the configuration of explanatory variables with maximizes the likelihood of the observing the outcomes in the dataset.

Most modern statistical packages will apply simple transforms to covariates to improve fit, like for instance taking log(number of balls already faced), a transform which makes intuitive sense anyway.

Step 3: read the results
First pass, one is expecting to see date of innings being a statistically significant. If it is clearly significant, and the coefficient has the right sign (a decline in form), that probably means the effect is real. A completely unconstrained model might spit out some funky functional forms, with performance being a parabolic function of time...improving initially and then declining.

A bunch of other interesting effects will be visible at this stage, and are fun to look for. For instance, does Dravid have a nemesis bowler? Is Dravid genuinely as good abroad as he is at home? Has he done any worse as an opener than at #3? Is Dravid more vulnerable to full length deliveries on the slow pitches at home than abroad (does the interaction term between home away flag and length have a non-zero coefficient)?

Step 4: tweak the model
Refinements to the model are usually needed at this stage.

For instance, if no effect is observed overall, it might be because a real effect over the last six months may be hidden by the length of the continuous dataset in use. Converting time into six monthly blocks may be useful.

Also, a time effect might be masked because it is correlated with the opposition. It might look like Dravid just happens to be weaker against Sri Lanka and Australia, India's most recent opponents. In this case, one might want to force the model to accept time blocks before it admits opposition.

Bowlers with thin data might show up having implausibly strong effects. One might want to modify the data to slot all bowlers who have bowled less than 250 balls at Dravid into a pie-chuckers categorical variable.

Step 5: validate the model

Keep a random subset of ~5000 balls outside the analysis described so far. Repeat the analysis on this holdout to make sure the results observed are similar. Validating on an additional time period is probably nonsense in this context, since time is a variable of interest.

A more interesting approaches to validation is to validate on non-test match data. If Dravid is in decline, we would expect to see that in all forms of cricket.

Step 6: Document the results and limitations
Gaps in data and any subjective interpretations or analytic choices missing values/ definition of class variable etc. would be logged here.

Some limitations are systematic. This dataset is limited to Dravid's performance only. So a generalized improvement in the performance of all test batsmen of the same time period would not be picked up by the model. It is possible that Dravid is playing as well as ever, and that the world has moved forward faster than Dravid. A more ambitious analysis spanning a broader base of test batsmen is needed to shed more light on this.

Also highlight opportunities to improve on the analysis. For instance, it would be interesting to compare Dravid's decline with that of other top players. Assuming there is a decline, is it worse than what Gavaskar or Border suffered? Data may be thinner in the pre-internet era...but maybe it is out there in official score sheets.

Most critically, this analysis does not tell the captain whether or not Dravid should be replaced with a younger batsman. That remains a judgment call, based largely on how he wants to build his team. What it may tell the captain is that Dravid's run of poor scores is explained by randomness and is likely to end soon. So we avoid the injustice of a great player being judged on poorly constructed evidence.

What is right about Indian education?

My friends and family in India are in a state of perpetual despair about our education system. The system does not even attempt to develop creativity, or critical reasoning, or the love of learning, or emotional intelligence. These are things we all want. Some good friends of mine are doing superb work to try and invigourate the system. But the fact remains that the system teaches students to learn by rote, to "crack" exams.

Yet, despite this depressing unidimensional approach, one can't help but notice that the products of this flawed system generally do OK. Certainly, compared the products of other national systems, and better than the prevailing despair might suggest. Why?

Lord William Henry Beveridge, born in Rangpur, Bengal, to an ICS officer in 1879, quoted here here in the Times, may have a clue. In his report on Social Insurance and Allied Services, submitted to the Government of Winston Churchill in 1942, he notes that:

“Most men who have once gained the habit of work would rather work... than be idle... "

Extrapolating a bit, teenagers who have worked their tails off to get 97% in their board exams have surely gained the habit of hard work. Ditto for the brutally competitive entrance exams which serve as gatekeepers to most walks of Indian life. The same habit of hard work has been installed in ten times that number who slaved away for assorted entrance exams and didn't get accepted. They Indian educational system may be very good at giving kids a tough work ethic.

This may also provide a clue to another puzzle. Why do jocks, serious sportsmen, do much better than their CGPAs suggest? Maybe because they have developed a tough work ethic?

Pyaasa

Since 26/11, it hasn’t felt appropriate to change the topic to something other than the Mumbai attacks. Sachin’s century at Chepauk has given me permission to do just that.

This test match was always about more the cricket. For England to have shown the gumption to come out and play, for Strauss and Collingwood to play gritty career defining knocks, for Sachin Tendulkar to lead India on a record breaking run-chase, bringing up his century and the winning runs with the same shot, and for Sachin to have the grace and presence of mind to dedicate his century to the victims of the Mumbai attacks...

I'm just grateful that my favourite game can produce such a moment. The best piece I came across on this test match being about more than cricket was by Peter Roebuck in Cricinfo.

Yet, as a long-suffering India cricket fan, this win is special to me in just simple cricketing terms. This tickles the same spot as watching Ishant Sharma dominate Ricky Ponting at the WACA; it slakes a thirst that has been building up for decades.

Great teams chase down big targets. Bradman’s Invincibles chased down 403 at Headingley in 1948, to secure the Ashes and their status as the Invincibles. Steve Waugh’s Aussies chased down 369 in Sydney, 1999, after being 5 for 126, against a Pakistan attack that included Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, Shoaib Akthar and Saqlain Mushtaq. Clive Lloyd’s Windies had their own great chase when Gordon Greenidge made mockery of David Gower’s declaration at Lord's in 1984 by chasing down 342 at a rate of over 5 an over while losing just one wicket. These wins matter more than others; they take on a talismanic quality, keeping the possibility of victory alive in a team’s imagination even in the worst situation.

India, Saurav’s India, had a talismanic win in Kolkata, 2001. But this win felt different from a triumphal march through a fourth innings chase. It was built around Rahul and VVS gritting out for survival in the third innings, with Harbhajan coming in to deliver the kill. Strangely, despite being a team built around a wealth of batting talent, India’s fourth innings performances have been appalling.

Think back to the inexplicable collapse to Shahid Afridi in Bangalore, 2005, needing to bat out a day to win the series. All out for 100 to the mesmerizing spin of Shaun Udal in Mumbai, 2006, again needing to bat out a day to win the series. Or losing three wickets in five balls to Michael Clarke in Sydney, 2008.

Going back a bit, remember the collapse in Barbados, 1997, when faced with the opportunity to be the first team in two generations to dethrone the Windies at home? Or falling achingly short of the mark against Akram’s Pakis in Chennai, 1999, in an ill-tempered and tightly fought series. Even the famous tied test against the Aussies in Chennai, 1987, was a game India should have won in a canter.

India have also generally made heavy weather of small fourth innings targets, even if we did go on to win. It came down to Sameer Dighe and Harbhajan Singh to hold their nerve and chase down 155 in Chennai, 2001. Chasing 233 to win in Adelaide, 2004, was a nervy affair that could have gone either way.

Those ghosts have now been exorcised.

What else would I have wished for in this game? For Rohit Sharma, S Badrinath, Virat Kohli, Robin Uthappa, Suresh Raina, M Vijay and Shikar Dhawan to have been sitting in the dressing room, absorbing the atmosphere, drinking in the subliminal belief that this is how India bats when it really counts.

Memories of the Taj Mahal, Mumbai

Some personal memories of the Taj:

- My first day at work, ever. I'd joined Procter and Gamble India as an Assistant Brand Manager and was attending a Hoopla, an annual jamboree at the Taj attended by employees from all over India

- My first job offer, ever. This was from the Indian Hotels Company, the company that owns the Taj. I heard the story about "Dogs and Indian not allowed" at their recruitment event

- I met my now parents-in-law at the Taj. Dinner at the Golden Dragon is an excellent way of reassuring the girl's parents that their daughter's boyfriend is appropriate. That tactic worked partly because my father-in-law had a long and fulfilling career with the Tata's. As did my grandfather

- I've had many All Day Breakfasts at the Sea Lounge, overlooking the Gateway of India. My wife and I'd meet there after work to fortify ourselves for the drive back to the suburbs. Once, while I was working through a three egg omelette, a member of the staff walked up to me with a shoe polish kit and offered to smarten me up. Were my shoes inappropriately scuffy? No. A waiter had spilt milk on my shoe and was keen to make amends

- The shoes had also been bought at the Taj. The shoes were a gift from my father, a pair of black brogues from the excellent Joy Shoes which he'd picked up on a business trip to Bombay

- I splurged Rs. 200 on a funky hand drawn map of Bombay at the Nalanda book shop. Not to scale, with handwritten labels, and with cool touristy joints like Cafe Mondegar and Prithvi Theatre marked out with little sketches. Back in the 90s, Rs. 200 was quite a lot of money for something I didn't need. And funky maps weren't all that common

- I've attended a college reunion at the Taj Ball Room, organized by the Western India Stephanians Association. I went in with rock bottom expectations, muttering something to myself about "old fuddy duddies", and wound up having a rollicking good time.

- I've sung Mohammad Rafi's "yeh hai Bombay meri jaan" with gusto if not talent, sitting on a bench outside the Taj. I'm sure I was accompanied by some equally unmusical Stephanian friends. Not totally sure if it was the same evening...

- The Brand Equity Quiz regional finals were at the Taj. I was proudly representing my company after competitive internal trials, and our team was leading the Western India finals with just 3 rounds to go. Then Derek O'Brien snuck in a scrambled word puzzle that has nothing to do with quizzing. I guess the national finals were not meant to be :(

You get the drift.

The Taj is not just some aseptic and characterless dormitory near an airport. It's a living part of a great city. I am not a Bombay-ite. I just happened to live in Bombay for a few years. Yet, the Taj is tightly woven into the fabric of my life, my memories.

The Taj will be throb with life again. Bombay will be herself again. This nightmare will pass.

The Taj

Jamsetji Nasserwanji Tata had visitors from out of town. A proud citizen of Bombay, he wanted to show his city off to his guests. He took them out to Bombay's finest hotel, where he encountered a sign: "Dogs and Indians not allowed".

Angry but determined, he swore he would build a even greater hotel in Bombay. A hotel that would be counted among the finest in the world. A hotel where Indians and whites, blacks and yellows, Hindus and Muslims, Christians and Jews, Sikhs, Parsees, Buddhists, Jains and Atheists were all welcome.

Mr. Tata kept his promise. Thus was born the Taj Mahal Hotel on Apollo Bunder. The Taj is not just any luxury hotel. It is a special place, resonant with meaning. It is every bit as iconic as the twin towers that were attacked in New York on 9/11.

This is the place that the dirty little insects who crawled ashore on the Sassoon Docks have chosen to attack, the place where they shot dead women and children in the middle of the night.



This hurts more than railway lines that get blown up in the hinterland. This is an attack on an idea of India: an India which is warm-hearted, open-minded and walks the world with its head held high.

This feels like a watershed, a turning point. Where do we turn to? We could do worse than look to the character of Jamsetji Tata himself.

Let the Taj be refurbished. Let it be an even greater, even more vibrant, even more humane place than it's been for a hundred years. May the spirit behind the Taj live on forever. Jai Hind.

The Master of Disguise

This blog has a personality. It is a Doer. This blog is like a cool chick wearing shorts and two pony-tails, bouncing a ball. Doers are:

"The active and playful type. They are especially attuned to people and things around them and often full of energy, talking, joking and engaging in physical out-door activities.

The Doers are happiest with action-filled work which craves their full attention and focus. They might be very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. They might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time. "

This verdict was delivered by a web site which analyzes blogs and maps them to a psychological (MBTI) profile. Moonballs from Planet Earth is an ESTP blog: Extraverted Sensing Thinking Perceptive.

This is not what I am like in real life. My preferred operating mode, as measured on most MBTI instruments, is INTJ: Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judgmental. INTJs are like the geeky guys who wear glasses and struggle to get dates:

"The long-range thinking and individualistic type. They are especially good at looking at almost anything and figuring out a way of improving it - often with a highly creative and imaginative touch. They are intellectually curious and daring, but might be physically hesitant to try new things.

They enjoy theoretical work that allows them to use their strong minds and bold creativity. Since they tend to be so abstract and theoretical in their communication they often have a problem communicating their visions to other people and need to learn patience and use concrete examples. Since they are extremely good at concentrating they often have no trouble working alone. "

What's going on here?

One possibility is that the blog analysis tool is pure bunkum; a very real possibility.

Another interesting but speculative possibility is that this reflects the fact that I'm an amateur blogger.

I picked up the blog analysis tool from Greg Mankiw's blog. Mankiw is a professional economist. He is also an INTJ, an unsurprising personality type for a professional economist. His blog is linked to his work as an economist; it started as a teaching aid for his introductory economics class at Harvard. It's not surprising that his professional persona is reflected in his blog.

I am a professional analyst, a credit policy wonk. My time at work is spent wrestling with financial data, regression models and dodgy forecasts. I am blessed: I quite enjoy my job, it fits my INTJ preferences. The company I work for is dominated by NT personalities. But...the point of my blog is to get at stuff my mind wants to play with, but is not related to my work.

Maybe it's natural for extra-curricular activities to be coloured by people's shadow personality.

The Tourons of Planet Bollywood

Swiss Nuggets: Observations on Switzerland following a long-weekend visit

Touron is a great new word, created by smooshing together tourist and moron. It is often used to describe lads consuming lager and chicken-tikka pizza on the Costa del Sol. This word may have found a wonderful growth market in describing Indian tourists in Switzerland.

India is now one of Switzerland’s fastest growing tourist markets, thanks to Dilwale Dulhania le Jayenge. And Indians are now visible everywhere.

In terms of numbers, about 250,000 Indian tourists visit Switzerland every year. That is still only about 1.5% of the market, maybe 5% once business travellers and sports-tourists are taken out of the denominator. But Indians are more conspicuous than the numbers suggest. Maybe it’s the brides on group honeymoons, still wearing their mehendi and wedding jewellery. Maybe it’s the garment exporter, travelling with his extended family, raising his voice on a business call to compensate for weak cell phone reception in the Alps. Maybe its because I’m Indian and I tend to observe people and behaviours I’m already familiar with.

Whichever way, the Swiss tourist industry is warmly embracing this growth market. The Swiss are now promoting Bollywood movies that are set in Switzerland, where not just the dream song-and-dance sequence is shot in Switzerland. And Jungfraujoch, the train station at the top of Europe, the climax of a trip into the Alps, now features a Restaurant Bollywood.

Medieval Living?

Swiss Nuggets: Observations on Switzerland following a long-weekend visit



Bern’s town center, the street plan and the architecture, have been unchanged for five hundred years. It is a UNESCO world heritage site. I was half expecting a twee little museum piece; a backdrop for touristy snapshots, that has been all but abandoned by the locals.

I was surprised and delighted to find a city center throbbing with local life, with grocers, designer boutiques, discount shoe stores and newsagents all spilling out from a very well maintained fifteenth century layout, a bit like a first-world version of Chandni Chowk in Delhi or Crawford Market in Bombay.

City scapes

My strongest childhood stereotype of Switerland is from Asterix, where the Swiss diligently clean up behind the Roman orgies, where they decide to carry Obelix home after he drinks too much and passes out in the snow because he looks "messy" just lying there.




Going off stereotype, I was expecting Swiss city-scapes to be as pristine and pretty as the pictures on chocolate boxes. While some pristine and pretty cityscapes do exist, like the tourist friendly city center in Lucerne, there is also plenty of urban grit.

The graffiti along the train lines in Geneva and the tram lines in Bern can compete with London, Chicago or Bombay. There are practical but uninspired suburbs ringing the beautifully preserved city centres. There are also ugly American style strip malls sprouting neon advertising signs are being planted in chocolate box country side, despite some architects protesting.

Reality bites..even in Switzerland.

The Lions of Lanka

Swiss Nuggets: Observations about Switzerland following a long-weekend visit

The most visible minority in Switzerland are Sri Lankan Tamil refugees.

They include Giritharan Thiagarajan, the head chef at Vatter, an excellent vegetarian restaurant in Bern, who was delighted to meet fellow Tamils visiting his restaurant.

Wikipedia thinks 40,000 Tamils live in Switzerland. Giritharan thinks the number is 80,000…and he might be right. To put that in perspective, the sovereign nation of Liechtenstein, Switzerland’s eastern neighbour, is home to about 34,000 souls.

The Lions of Lucerne

Swiss Nuggets: Observations about Switzerland following a long-weekend visit

The cuckoo clock piece is untrue, so is the myth of brotherly love.

If anything, the Swiss myth of nationhood is martial: Switzerland is the only country in Western Europe that still has universal conscription. Hence the reputation for being excellent mercenaries, hence the Swiss Guards around the Pope resplendent in Michelangelo’s glorious metrosexual colours, hence the Swiss Army knives.

Hence the magnificient Lion of Lucerne, to remember the 700 Swiss Guards who fought to the last man against a bloodthirsty mob at Tuileries in 1792 while Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette escaped from the palace.




My wife and I were travelling with our six and three year old daughters. We chose not to inflict this story of futile heroism and cynical royalty on the kids, and decided the visit the Verkehrshaus, the Swiss transportation museum, instead.