The digital dystopia

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

For some people, the move to a totally digital, online world is a delightful development. 

Procedures that once required us to physically go somewhere can now be done via the swipe of a screen or the touch of a button with next to no exertion needed.

Opting out of the digital world is next to impossible.

Such advancements are presented to us as timesavers that allow for greater efficiency with what were heretofore tedious tasks.

A con-venience

In the world of banking and bill-paying, this is certainly the case. Many transactions can now be done via a computer or smartphone, so no more hours are lost waiting in a queue. And I'm all on for reducing the number of queues I have to stand in.

The same goes for shopping, although I do prefer to go out and make in-person purchases, especially for clothing and groceries.

There are, though, downsides to such digital delights.

For starters, there's troubleshooting. When there's a problem, getting to communicate with an actual human being can be quite the task.

Indeed, with some businesses and institutions, it's almost as if they don't want you to be able to make contact with a living person. This is — surprise, surprise — particularly so when it comes to making a complaint: A policy of, 'frustrate the complainant to the point where he/she will just give up'.

The social media giants are masters at this. Perhaps this is because many employees in Silicon Valley — and its offshoots — aren't really social beings and thus are unable to properly engage with people.

'A person can be logged out of the system just as easily as he/she logged in. From social credit to socially discredited.'

In any case, we're not usually talking about life-or-death concerns when it comes to social media. In other areas, such as healthcare and security, the ability to talk to a living person in real time is usually more critical when problems arise.

Controlled

There's also the rather important matter of simply being able to function in today's society. Those who fully embrace the digital drive often portray it as a way 'to be in greater control of our lives'. This might be so for the likes of Elon Musk or Mark Zuckerberg — the elite who have access to the controls — but for us mere plebs, not quite.

So while smartphone apps and electronic payments may have made regular banking a breeze and resulted in fewer fees, there are other prices to pay. 

Just how in control can one be of one's finances when somebody else is virtually holding the purse strings?

There have been a number of alarming instances in the not-very-free free world where citizens have had access to their accounts frozen for the crime of dissenting against the government of the day (see, for example, https://www.nytimes.com/2022/02/22/world/americas/canada-protest-finances.html, as well as the case of English journalist Graham Phillips, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-nottinghamshire-62308528 & https://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-11065067/PETER-HITCHENS-Freedom-means-freedom-nasty-people.html). 

How wonderfully democratic and liberal, eh?

Fair enough, denying people access to their bank accounts predates today's digital age. 

However, in the past, payment in cash for pretty much anything was still an option. In contrast, in most high-income nations today, it has become extremely difficult to pay with notes and coins (this isn't quite the case yet in Colombia, thankfully).

In such an environment, a person can be logged out of the system just as easily as he/she logged in. From social credit to socially discredited.

There are those who see little wrong with this. The argument is that law-abiding citizens have nothing to worry about. The "democratic" West's checks and balances are a bulwark against injustices.

That's great in theory. Yet, as mentioned above regarding the freezing of bank accounts of people who have not been convicted of a crime and as seen with the actions taken against those who refused, with solid arguments, to take covid-19 vaccines, the empirical evidence is far from reassuring.

Yes, there are few things in this world over which we have complete control. However, the digitalisation of many aspects of our daily lives is moving us to a position where we'll have no real control over hardly anything.

With each new technological convenience managed by largely invisible, unaccountable actors, we have a further dissolution of what's left of an individual's independence. 

Welcome to the digital dystopia.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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The barrio banker

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

Strange as this may seem considering my current less-than-robust financial situation and lack of a steady income, but I have become the chief moneylender for one barrio friend over the last number of years.

Easy money — when it comes from the Wrong Way Bank, that is.

It breaks with a long-standing rule of mine to not give money to anyone here. 

Previous experience has taught me that while some may ask for a dig-out using the verb 'prestar', literally 'lend', what they usually have in mind is the more common Colombian word when looking for something: 'regalar', 'gift'. (I recall asking for a drink in the Spanish capital Madrid using 'regálame'. The barman's retort was that they didn't 'gift things' in that establishment.)

'I'm good for it'

Of course, it's just an expression. Few if any people who utter it on a daily basis here actually expect to get what they want for free. Rather wishful thinking if they do. 

It could be argued, however, that when addressing a native of a high-income country, the more literal meaning is very much in mind for some locals. 'These rich foreigners can easily afford to give things away.'

Whatever the case, actions speak louder than words. So whether my now regular client uses 'prestar' or 'regalar' when he comes looking for a loan matters little, it's his ability to pay back that counts.

Barrio banking: Money's too tight to mention.

The first time I agreed to lend him a relatively substantial sum of money, my thinking was that it would double up as a way to test the strength of the friendship. If he defaulted, well I'd have to take the hit but be somewhat comforted by the fact that I'd unmasked a false friend.

Not only did he not default but he paid back the amount in full ahead of the stated due date. Punctuality is a rarity in Colombia in all walks of life, never mind doing something ahead of schedule. I was both relieved and impressed.

So the next time he asked for financial assistance I was more relaxed when handing over the cash. And yes, these are real cash transactions — notes still dominate here for the masses, something I'm not at all averse to.

Now,  considering I've known him since 2016 and for at least the last four years I've rated him as a trustworthy friend, I view this money-lending akin to helping out family.

One must be very selective in this regard, even if those who seek handouts aren't in anyways shy in doing so. In fact, it never ceases to amaze me how people I barely know appear to have no reservations about asking for money.

'I'd soon be relieved of my money-lending duties if I were employed in the House of Rothschild. Interest-free, verbally agreed loans won't put one on the road to riches.'

OK, I've been fortunate enough in my life so far that I've never been in a terribly tight financial position but if I were to need emergency funds, it would most likely be family and/or really good, long-standing friends I'd ask first, not some person I hardly know.

The fact of the matter in most of Colombia is that other family members probably don't have the resources to help out so it's worth chancing the arm with the seemingly 'flush gringo'. Nothing to lose, really.

'Your fake notes are no good here.'

However, I'm certainly no Rothschild or, in a more sinister sense, Shylock, for better or for worse. I'd soon be relieved of my money-lending duties if I were employed in the House of Rothschild. Interest-free, verbally agreed loans won't put one on the road to riches. 

Although, I do get interest paid in-kind via the occasional meal or beer it must be said. Also, similar to those infamous Jewish moneylenders, I am an outsider in the barrio, no matter how much I feel — and am made feel — part of it.

A genuine fake

It is, somewhat paradoxically, these more substantial loans that have proved to be less risky. Getting back on-the-spot payments of up to 20,000 pesos can be next to impossible. And all those small amounts do soon add up.

There is also the issue of a fake-note swindle when dealing in cash, a fate I had the displeasure of suffering recently.

Having given a 20,000-peso note to a lad with whom I consider I have a decent relationship, he returned a few minutes later with the note ripped, telling me it was fake.

There are three possibilities here: I had a fake note of which I was unaware; my friend was tricked by the street vendor from whom he attempted to make a purchase; my friend pulled a fast one on me.

Weighing all these up and taking into account the reaction of others in the tienda bar where I gave this friend the money — including close family of his — the last seems the most likely.

That being so, no doubt many will ask how can I call this guy a friend? It basically comes down to his all-round behaviour. He may be unreliable when it comes to money yet on most other fronts he's a likeable "marica".

It's why, as the old saying goes, one shouldn't mix business with pleasure. And it's why my barrio banking isn't a business but more a case of helping out friends whose needs appear greater than mine.

I just hope I don't end up doing some similar, desperate asking in the future.  
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".