The Citizen, 1993-04-07, Page 5Arthur Black
nternational Scene
By Raymond Canon
THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 7, 1993. PAGE 5.
Only in Britain,
you say?
Thank heaven
You read a lot of sad stuff in the
newspapers these days but one of the saddest
things I've read of late was a statistic. It
came from a survey published in a London
newspaper last month. Gallup pollsters
asked 1,030 adult Britons a simple question:
"Would you like to settle in another country
if you were free to do so?"
Forty-nine percent of the respondents said
yes, if they could, they'd leave.
Forty-nine percent! How is it possible that
virtually half the native inhabitants of Great
Britain would emigrate if they could?
This is the "green and pleasant land"! This
is the country that coloured two-thirds of the
world Imperial Pink on my old Grade Nine
Geography Rand McNally map! The Empire
On Which the Sun Never Set. The Entity
that Ruled The Waves. The cultural
fountainhead that gave the world Chaucer,
Shakespeare, Milton, Blake, The Beatles ...
The birthplace of Burns and Yeats,
Churchill and Cecil Rhodes, whose advice to
young Britons was "always remember that
you are an Englishman, and have
consequently won first prize in the lottery of
life."
How much is
that in yen?
I have literally lost count of the number of
times I have been asked what something
costs back in Canada. The natural curiosity
of people takes over when they see a
different item together with a foreigner and
they want to know how much it set the
owner back. Since Canadian dollars mean
little if anything to any person outside of
Canada, it is important to find a way to
convey this cost with any degree of
accuracy.
A case in point stands out vividly in my
mind. When I drove to the Soviet Union, I
was in possession of a brand new car which I
had picked up in Paris. It was a Renault but
it didn't really matter who had produced it;
the fact that it was new and non-Russian had
people looking at it everywhere. I recall one
evening in the city of Smolensk; I was
parked in front of the hotel and in very short
order I had a few Russians stop to look it
over. One thing led to another; before too
long the questions were flying thick and fast
with the inevitable one being how much it
cost. 1 got around this by pointing out that
the price in dollars wouldn't mean a thing to
them since the exchange rate between the
dollar and the rouble was anything but
realistic. Instead I explained that the cost of
my car made up three months of my yearly
salary. Consternation in the ranks! There
was no way, the Russians said, a car could
be so cheap. How long did I have to wait for
it? One year? Two years? No time at all, I
replied. I picked it up the day 1 arrived in
Paris and this was par for the course.
Canadian car buyers were used to either not
waiting or perhaps waiting a very short time.
A year? Never!!
How can something as magnificent as all
that be — to cop a phrase from the Bard —
"shrunk to this little measure"?
Well, the recession helped. Here in
Canada, we felt the economic downturn
pretty bad, but the Brits really got clobbered.
At last count, the U.K. had more than three
million unemployed on its rolls. British
businesses and factories are still sloughing
off employees by the thousands as they
struggle to stay afloat in a sea of red ink.
Margaret Thatcher helped to scupper the
operation too. She swept to power like a
metaphorical new broom, promising to set
the British economy to rights with some
good old-fashioned housecleaning.
Survivors say that in fact she gutted the
joint, replacing the old British ethic of Fair
Play with a rah rah chant of."Me First!" She
privatized everything in sight and left
Northern Ireland, Scotland and the north of
England economic wastelands. Europe? She
cocked a snook at Europe, preferring to cash
her chips at the Bank of America through
her good pal Ronnie Reagan.
Sound familiar?
The 12 years under Margaret Thatcher
were a bit like a hit from a crack pipe —
heady and exciting at first, but ultimately a
massive downer, leaving the victim not
much more than a basket case.
It didn't help that the undeniably vibrant
Margaret Thatcher was replaced by the
Consternation in the ranks again. How
could that decrepit capitalist system do such
a thing. It would be unheard of in Russia. I
assured them that what I told them was the
truth. Above all they now knew the real
price of car. You can use that system
wherever you go; it sure beats trying to use
an exchange rate which may or may not be
accurate.
You can use somewhat the same system to
explain how much your house cost. Since it
will obviously not be in terms of months as
with the car above, use a multiple of years. If
we use this, we find that houses in Brussels,
Madrid and London, Eng. are slightly lower
than they are in Toronto, which is usually
employed as a benchmark in any
international comparisons. On the other hand
you would not want to buy a house in Tokyo
since they are over twice as expensive there
-as here. In New York they are half as much
again while in Frankfurt, Germany and
Milan, Italy they are about half way between
New York and Tokyo. Los Angeles and
Paris come in just slightly ahead of Toronto.
Even at that, the question of taxation can
distort the picture somewhat. There are few
countries which do not have some form of
income tax relief on house purchases but
Canada is one of them (Australia is another).
In the U.S. of example you can deduct the
interest from your taxable income of any
mortgage up to $1 million. In Britain it is
only about $50,000.
When it comes to buying and selling a
house, prices vary a great deal. Combining
the agent's fee and any taxes involved,
Belgium is the most expensive country and
Britain the cheapest. We are closer to the
British rate than we are to the Belgian while,
if houses are among the most expensive in
Japan, the cost of selling one is lower than in
almost any other industrialized country.
I am always asked what the price of food
is in other countries; my answer is that we
are one of the luckiest ones. According to
undeniably dishraglike John Major. A nice
man, perhaps even competent, but not a man
to inspire a confidence-stricken nation to
follow him "over the top". John Major is
rather, as the London Times described him
"a well-intentioned chap — the sort you
would like to see marry your problem
daughter."
And then there were the Royal Troubles.
One thing that has long distinguished Great
Britain from the rest of the world is its
veneration of royalty. Regrettably, the
British Royals chose this moment in history
to become publicly unglued.
First there was Fergie, plastered all over
the front pages of the tabloids, having her
toes sucked by her Texan financial advisor.
Then Chuck and Di called it quits, and the
selfsame tabs got hold of their private
cellular phone calls and ...
Enough.
Small wonder, really, that 49 per cent of
polled Britons say they'd up stakes and move
off the Sceptred Isle in a flash.
Small wonder that more than 75 per cent
of those interviewed said they expected
things in the U.K. to get worse before they
got better.
We have our share of problems here in
Canada, but I doubt very much that anything
like 50 per cent of us would emigrate.
To paraphrase the old tea commercial:
"Only in Britain, you say? Thank heaven."
the Consumer Price Index, a Canadian is
likely to spend just about one-fifth of his
disposable income on eating, just over half
of what it costs to house him or her. Food is
cheap in the United States but consumers
elsewhere are not so fortunate. It helps that
Southern Ontario is one of the great bread-
baskets of the world. If you want to see the
truth in this, just sit down and make a list of
all the agricultural products grown here.
When it comes to gasoline, we are also
among the most fortunate. The Americans
pay far and away the least for this product
and, while our gas is much more expensive
than theirs, we do not come close to
European countries where the cost is two to
three times as high as here. I should point
out, of course, that the chief reason for the
great variety in prices is that of tax.
European countries tax their gas much more
heavily than we do while the Americans put
on much less. I have a feeling that Bill
Clinton is going to change ail that.
There you have it. By and large we do not
do too badly but at least you know now how
to talk to people in other countries when it
comes to telling each other how badly done
by you are.
Letter to
the editor
Continued from page 4
with people's lives, not only the employees
but the people who receive those services. In
the past two years the civil service numbers
have been reduced and more is being done
with less money.
A social contract with the public
employees is to be one component of the
plan to protect jobs and services. This will
be negotiated with public sector employees
and unions and its aim is to restructure the
public spctor and reduce its costs.
Paul Klopp,IMPP Huron.
The
Short
of it
By Bonnie Gropp
Longing for a
taste of paradise
Have you ever just wanted to chuck it all?
Isn't there a part of you thinking this roller
coaster just isn't fun anymore? Granted when
you first got on, it was exhilarating, but too
much excitment, too much of the fast life,
like too much of anything, wears a little thin
after awhile.
We are living a life of excess, which
always astonishes me, considering today's
baby boomers are yesterday's hippies. In
what began as an idyllic crusade to make the
world better, the anti-materialistic, anti-
establishment generation seems to have
made a wrong turn. We protested and rallied
life's injustices but soon lost our idealism
when we saw we couldn't "get no sa-
tisfaction". The result seems to be a group of
harried middle-agers on a treadmill gone
berserk. Everywhere you go you run into
people bemoaning the fact they have no time
to themselves, yet unable to come up with a
way to fix it. In search of the better life for
ourselves, our families and our world, we
have taken on many times, more than we can
handle.
Watching the Andy Griffith show recently
(the TV was on, I was running past) I took
some time to remember those easy days.
When was the last time my entire family was
able to sit outside on a hot summer's eve and
just bask in the warmth of the day and each
other's company? I asked myself. It always
seems that everyone's too busy, following
their own pursuits, to just stop and catch
their breath.
Racing a mad dash through life is all right,
until you fmally have that couple of seconds
to breathe. That's when you start thinking, a
dangerous pastime of mine, which lately has
taken a rather provocative turn. Recently my
thoughts have strayed, only half facetiously,
to selling everything I own and whisking my
family away to Bora Bora. They don't seem
quite as sold on the idea, mind you, but there
are others in this world, who are thinking
along the same lines as I.
I recently read in a magazine that Pitcairn
Island, located just below the Tropic of
Capricorn, 300 miles west of New Zealand
is inundated annually by thousands of letters
from people yearning to live there. Pitcairn
is a speck of volcanic rock, a paradise,
which has been a subject for literature and
Hollywood. The population, primarily
descendents of the mutineers from Captain
William Bligh's ship The Bounty, numbers
50.
What's the attraction of Pitcairn that so
many are interested in making it their home?
Nothing! Literally! In Pitcairn there are no
taxes, banks, cars or TV's. Another pert,
especially for we snow-bound Canucks, is
the fact the temperature in Pitcairn ranges
from 60° to 82°F.
And best of all, Pitcaim's crime rate is
almost virtually non-existent.
Ah ha, the skeptics say, if Pitcairn is so
perfect why do they still have only a handful
of residents when so many express an
interest? The reason is that not just anyone
can move there; they have to be accepted by
the Island Council. Dreamers are seen as a
potential burden to the community. Probably
because too often dreams we pursue are not
in reality what we had in mind.
Which explains why I will quite likely not
be making the pilgrimage to paradise. A
taste would be nice; actually I long for it, but
I think after about a year that might go sour.
There are aspects of this lunacy I would
miss.
So, I guess I'm not a serious applicant.
Yet.