BY ALLEN MYERS
"It's time", declared the PM of Danunda, staring straight into the TV camera. "This decision can no longer be postponed. It is a non-partisan decision, agreed between the government and the opposition after thorough discussions with all stakeholders.
"The simple truth is that our national average productivity is too low. If our total gross domestic product is divided by the wages of those involved in production, we lag behind many international competitors."
He paused to let the words sink in. "Ladies and gentlemen, fellow citizens, our nation must become globally competitive. In this age of globalisation, we can, we must and we shall take all necessary measures to compete at world standards. It is the duty of each and every one of us to do our part."
The specific measures were announced the next morning. They produced only scattered protests and rioting, no doubt because they had been well prepared in the media. Months of reports and commentary about "20% overstaffing compared to international standards" made the government-decreed sacking of 20% of all employees, from all public and private businesses and services, seem inevitable.
The Summit for International Competivity (SIC) — the permanent coordinating body of parliament, business and unions — issued an official proclamation praising the redundant 20% for their willingness to sacrifice for the national interest.
SIC recommended that the sacked be exempted from anti-loitering laws and regretted "that it is not possible to provide free social services to those no longer productively engaged, as that would undercut the national average level of productivity". An entrepreneur-philanthropist was widely praised when he announced a plan for assisted emigration to Bangladesh and several sparsely populated Indonesian islands.
The country had never seemed so prosperous, as production costs fell and exports boomed — more than enough to make up for a declining domestic market. But as the months passed, Danunda's competitive edge began to be whittled back by its most aggressive competitors.
The PM convened a meeting of SIC with the country's leading economists and technical experts to consider how competivity could be further increased. The eventual answer was suggested by an economist's offhand remark, "There's nothing automatic about automation".
"But if", the PM later summed up the discussion, "we can automate automation, we may gain a permanent competitive edge".
As the PM outlined to the nation several weeks later, the idea was simple. Another 15% of the (remaining) workers in each enterprise would lose their jobs. The savings from these redundancies would all be invested in research to invent further labour-saving technology.
It must be admitted that the second group of redundant employees were not as cheerful about their sacrifice as were their predecessors, and some of them had to be offered temporary dole payments until they emigrated or disappeared into the bush, which delayed some of the national productivity gains.
Nevertheless, exports boomed anew. International news magazines once again ran cover stories about Danunda's "miracle economy".
And, beyond SIC's wildest hopes, the research program began to pay off. The real breakthrough came when a senior computer programmer began toying with the idea of a program that would control and spur the application of labour-saving technology. He wrote a test program and, on running it, was amazed when the computer (nicknamed "Slam Dunk") took over, sacked him and all his fellow programmers, and began introducing new technology.
As Danunda's computers churned out more and more labour-saving devices, unit costs of the country's products plummeted and exports skyrocketed.
Of course, the progress was too rapid for some. Around the outskirts of cities gathered surly mobs of unemployed who had missed or refused the boat to Chittagong or Halmahera. The cabinet — less than a third the size it had once been — responded by drafting legislation to make emigration of the unemployed compulsory. This was sweetened with a cash "resettlement bonus" paid for from the country's massive balance of payments surplus.
Danunda's economy now swept all before it. Nowhere in the world could a competitor come close to matching the price of any Danundan product. (Luckily for the rest of the international economy, Danunda didn't make everything.)
It was less than a decade from the original redundancies until the last Danundan was sacked and guided up the gangplank by a computer-controlled robot. The PM had hoped to have the honour of being the last to depart, but of course, while any employees remained, there had to be a pay officer.