UNCITRAL Conference

The conference as a whole
Paying $50 to go for a conference that other people pay $1250 to attend seems like a good deal and it is. I went for an UNCITRAL conference today and was awed by the sheer knowledge and intelligence of the speakers at that conference. Their knowledge was apparent in the substantive content of the papers that the presented and talked about. Their intelligence and mastery of the English language was apparent in the subtle, sometimes sly humour that they displayed in some observations and off the cuff comments on a topic.

As an overall experience, it was quite a thought rearranging experience to hear so many people talking about a subject that you cover only briefly in class and dryly in readings. These people live it, dream it, think it and unabashedly declare themselves fans of this brainchild of the UNCITRAL, the CISG. They come up with various opinions on the implications of various articles of the code and agree that the way forward is to make the CISG as prevalent and as commonly applied as possible. Various minds from various niches of the legal world convene to talk about how these few lines of code affect them or take up years of their life in study and research. We all know that the CISG is important or we wouldn't be studying it in class, but no one actually has a concrete idea as to how important it really is, nor appreciate all its subtleties and nuances and problems and implications. This people have thought through so much of it, and they still unanimously agree that there is far more that they have not yet covered. Cynics would say that these people are making mountains out of molehills, or remark that academics invariably find too much to say about too little. I will reserve comment, except to clarify that practitioners and businessmen and even the lone engineer were present at the conference, to hear the diverse opinions of these top legal minds.

Lost booklets
The little red booklets and little blue booklets of the articles of the two codes were in short supply to begin with and the latecomers even went without them, much to the dismay of some, for it was a handy reference when the speakers were talking about the articles of the code.

I arrived early enough to receive for myself two copies of the precious booklets and thought no more about the shortage, until I returned from lunch and found that my two booklets had mysteriously vanished. I could not believe or did not want to believe that someone had conveniently removed those two booklets from off my table in total disregard for whether I still needed to use them, which I certainly did. I was thoroughly distressed and as the discovery of the loss occurred after the speakers had commenced their lectures, I could do no more than to muffle my epithets and quietly hunt high and low for the booklets, hoping that they were not lost, but hidden somewhere in my pile of papers. I hunted several times through the same old places, growing more and more distressed with the sickening certainty that I would be deprived of these books for the rest of the day if not the rest of the duration of the conference. I was so distressed that I missed a good bit of what Prof Gary Bell said about good faith, which in retrospect, carried not a bit of irony in that time and place.

When I stopped denying the reality of the loss, I sat back and fumed for quite a few moments, and then tried to rationalize the situation. Maybe a speaker desperately needed it for reference, maybe someone picked it up on the assurance of one of the staff that it would be alright to do so. Maybe it was an honest mistake. Maybe the booklets did look abandoned despite sitting atop a pile of materials on a table full of piles of materials. I did try to convince myself that what was gone were only two generic, non-irreplaceable booklets for pity's sake, and why should one fret one's pretty head over them? I tried to tell myself that I could easily get a replacement, but the conference staff were clear out of the materials and although I could print them out myself in the library, I would have to sojourn there after the conference, which was a tedious chore.

I told myself that my booklets were not unidentifiable, since they carried my distinctive handwriting in them on certain pages. But it was not like I could request a spot check on the booklets of the delegates in the entire room, revered guests who were distinguished academics, judges, lawyers and big shit goons. This was hardly a primary school classroom in which the teacher was the ultimate authority and totalitarian dictator. This was an international conference, the organizing authority were mainly paid staff, and the delegates were legal heavyweights carrying wallets padded with platinum visa cards. Well, most of the delegates, except, you know, this handful of law students who attend on the sufferance and by the courtesy of their professors, who have no rights so to speak, and whose property rights can be infringed at a whim. No, this comment is not quite fair, actually. But not quite untrue either.

I shall not go on to detail the uncharitable thoughts that went through my mind for the period after I discovered that my booklets were missing. I shall not describe my insignificant and unsuccessful attempt to check the booklets of those around me during the next break in the hope of discovering my writing on it. I shall go on to my Happy Ending, which is the jewel and the delight of every tragic tale of sorrow and woe.

Prof Lawrence Boo
He was a skinny, dapper man with a frank, easy smile and a solicitous attitude, who advised us to circulate amongst the international crowd and to collect as many name cards as possible. Although it was said before the conference that food was not to be included in the token fee that we paid, Prof Boo later invited us to join the delegates for lunch, even as we were preparing to go elsewhere to eat. He was a part of the organizing committee, and stayed back to fix some administrative matters after the conference ended for the day. He heard my tale of woe with some sympathy and some grumbling about 'those people who took extra copies of the booklets for their friends'. He told me that I could take his copy of the UNCITRAL Model Law of International Commercial Arbitration.

I asked: "But sir, won’t you need it for tomorrow?" He shrugged with this indecipherable look that could have meant 'I'll do without' or 'I'm a professor of this code, I’ll definitely have a copy somewhere' or 'you are a delegate and I’m the organizing committee so your needs come first' or 'this was our screw-up in the first place so you shouldn’t be made to bear the sheer injustice of it all’ or simply, 'now you have what you want, begone so that I can get on with my work, I’m a busy man, you know'.

My new booklet on the UNCITRAL Model Law of International Commercial Arbitration has my name written on it in big bold letters. I am not a one who does not learn from past lessons.

Euterpe's Bane

Alright, I'm sure we should be very tolerant and encouraging of beginners, but I can't help wanting to find out who is that inept flute player living somewhere in my block, so that I can curse and swear at that hapless soul.

He/she is absolutely tone deaf, and plays familiar oldies seemingly with a view to getting every one of the notes slightly off. The result is a very sour piece of music that makes you grit your teeth and wonder why in the world did anyone put a flute into those fumbling hands to begin with. Worse, the sour music is played and replayed in the same wrong manner over and over again. If practice is supposed to make perfect, I can show you at least one exception to this rule. Half a dozen times I was almost inclined to stick my head out of the window and tell off that person, but I have sat on this impulse so far. So far. So continue bugging me in that manner, you bumbling flute player, and I will erupt in obscenities one day.

NB: Euterpe is the Greek muse of music, commonly represented by a flute.

Dark, dark, carefully hidden humour

I found this in my international law textbook:

"There is no lower limit to the size of a state's population and territory... The Vatican City has [few] permanent residents and whatever domain it might have elsewhere, has less than 100 acres on earth" (emphasis mine)

When I read that italicized phrase, I wondered for a moment if the author was talking about the land on which Catholic Churches all over the world are built. Maybe for some obscure reason, these are considered the territory of the Vatican. On closer examination however, I saw that the next phrase read 'has less than 100 acres on earth', which meant that when the author was talking about 'elsewhere' he meant somewhere otherworldly.

Just imagine: you are reading about law and legalese in your textbook and suddenly you come across this gem, aded seemingly as an afterthought, about the property that the Vatican has in this world as opposed to what it might have in the Kingdom of God. It goes to show that lawyers still retain some humour, regardless of what might have happened to their souls.

Canteen food that leaves much to be desired

Dinner tonight was herb fish from the Western stall in the PGP air-con canteen, the one that I frequently buy but consider only average in terms of taste.

Well the food was exceptionally well done tonight, much to my pleasant surprise. The sunny-side-up egg was neither overdone and dry nor runny and eggy-smelling, but was springy and moist and cooked to a turn. The fish which was usually left to grill half-heartedly on the frying surface and usually came out soft and bland and indifferent in texture was today lightly crisped on the outside and browned to the colour of old gold. The taste was fantastic. I think I have never tasted such great herb fish before and probably won't again. That kind of taste has to be a one off thing, and most probably is, for the chef tonight was that manager aunty, who usually mans the stall front instead of doing the cooking.

This reminds me of that one time I ordered sweet and sour pork chops from the claypot stall in the non-aircon canteen. It happened that business was slow at that time of the day, so the uncle (who usually takes the orders) personally whipped up the dish of pork chops for me. Whereas pork chops from that stall usually tended to the watery and bland side, the day the uncle cooked it it was crisp outside and moist inside and covered with sweet, tart, ketchup. The owner of that stall has long moved on in search of greener pastures, but memories of that unforgettable dish of pork chops linger. I do believe that had that uncle done all the cooking personally instead of leaving it entirely to his wife, their business would still be flourishing to this day.

Why isn't it the most proficient chefs that cook in our canteens? Most times they leave it to the Filipino maids or the semi-proficient hired help while they run the canteen or the business as managers. Pretty strange business logic if you ask me, since the business comes mainly to the good food. On that matter, be warned that the quality of the food at the economical rice stall in the PGP air-con canteen has severely deteriorated, which is the greatest pity since that is the stall that provides me with my staple of vegetables. It must be the new guy that they hired -- his cooking does not agree with me at all. I will have to look towards buying food from the other school canteens in the future.

For your amusement

There was a lady named Glass,
Who had a very nice ass,
Not round and pink,
As you might think,
But grey, had ears and ate grass.

-- Author annonymous

On helpfulness

This post is dedicated to KM, because it addresses specifically an issue raised in her blog with some reflections drawn from this author's latest class readings (Evidence and Procedure, no less).

I saw in KM's blog a musing that people in the US (well actually the immigrations officers) seem to be much less helpful than, say, Canadians, and I am inclined to share about an experiment that was conducted to test whether a person's helpfulness is related to his/her disposition or to external factors independant of the personality:-

"An experiment was conducted on unknowing participants whereby 'Mary' drops a sheaf of loose papers on the floor in a crowded shoppipng mall when someone is making a phone call in a nearby phone booth. The idea was to see which of the callers would come forward to help her pick the papers up. In some of the cases, the callers would 'find' a dime in the coin-return slot of the payphone. It was observed that where the callers 'found' that dime, 14 out of 16 callers helped her, but in cases where there was no dime in the coin-return slot, only 1 out of 24 callers helped this person in apparent need." The scientists conclude that the details of the situation are highly relevant in retermining a person's behaviour, more so than the traits of their personality.

So the conclusion I want to suggest to KM is, well, the patent unhelpfulness of the immigration officials is maybe because you have hit them at a busy time and nearing the end of a long shift. Maybe the Canadians you met were friendly and disposed to help because they are 1) Excited about meeting an exchange student like you 2) Well rested and recharged after the summer vacations 3) Students, which goes to explain their sweeter nature. Maybe immigration officials just acquire their laid back outlook to service after long days in a high-tension, high security job. Maybe it's just been a bad day.

This experiment was taken from a recommended article, which is surprisingly more related to psychology than law. It was just given as background reading, in order to elaborate on the idea that a criminal need not necessarily be guilty of an alleged crime just because it can be shown that he is a person likely to commit those crimes (ie, has a disposition that makes it more likely for him to commit those crimes). Still, it was a comparatively more diverting and light-hearted piece than all that stuff on the probative value of prejudicial evidence. But now: back, back to work...