Problem solving is the problem

Over the last three decades, I’ve observed and written extensively of local and regional events, large and small. The good ones I’d like to remember. The bad ones are best left to recede quietly with the tide of history.

Now, in most of my years in and out of government there’s the perfectly honed problem solving that is focused on problem identification—NOT problem solving. This is nurtured with towering speeches from bureaucrats and politicians calling that we “address” the various issues before us. They conveniently avoid using the term “resolve”.

After their grand use of the term “address”, the issue is identified and forgotten until they return the next year to use the same term all over again. Call it “redundancy”. Thus, we have captured and earned the trophy of atrophy for parroting the term “address” on the same issues dying of neglect year-in and year-out. Hardly do I hear that we’ve deferred for a change to “resolving” these issues. It has languished interminably at the address level.

And so we walk away from the occasion as though we just scored a 60 second knockout punch. We feel good for having heard a full round of applause. We’re convinced concrete solutions are on the way from vacuous speeches. We never realize that “After all is said and done, a lot more is said than done”. What superficial accolades, yeah?

The issues we have “addressed” are pregnant with empty answers. I liken it to the mud holes on coral roads paved every rainy season. We return after every rainstorm to pave it, time and again. We spend time, money and energy for decades returning to the same venues singing “fish and poi”. A conundrum of some sort only found here in the islands? Is it related to the two seasons we meet annually?

The issue of problem solving is similar to the fighter in the ring. He alone knows the enemy pacing right in front of him. He goes through quick calculating moves to figure out his opponent. In the middle of any vicious exchange, he alone stands there to slug it out to the bitter end.

In other words, you and I who are outside the ring had no pain or nasty cuts or bloody nose to contend with. We all can yell what punch to throw, i.e., a left hook, combination of 1-2-3, a right upper cut, an over right hand, etc. Only the fighter in the ring can decide the best strategy for he alone faces the other fighter, alone in the ring. Is something amiss here?

The culture of disoriented demonstrations is the latest phenomenon on island not to mention empty demands for impeachment. I chuckle how ludicrous and childish the demonstrations and demands are aimed at sound bytes, you know, “hey, hey, hey, I’m TV again tonight”. I giggle at their ability to congregate to question their own awareness. But it must be something to do while passing un-earned overtime.

The island is suffering from what I call the Three Grain of Rice Syndrome (TGRS). Remember the old story of a once filthy rich family that instantly must deal with abject poverty one dreadful morning? They woke up with nothing in the kitchen except three grains of rice. They made Pacific Soup to ensure that everybody eats. When a member accidentally swallowed one of three grains of rice, he was slammed on the neck viciously until he vomited and the rice returned to the pot. Are we getting anywhere?

The engines in the old power plant are about 30 years old. Repair for each is nothing less than $2 million a piece. Do we keep it or procure another set of engines or privatize the entire system? In either case, it needs about $16-plus million for another system to be emplaced. Where do we secure the funds for this basic infrastructure? Someone suggested we ought to ask the demonstrators to cough out the answer—mula for da kine need, yeah? Eh, we can all live happily ever after!