I have spent considerable time living in Cairo and New
Delhi. While there I felt a distanced sympathy for the locals as they ran their
heads into the brick walls of what passed for local bureaucracy. I pitied the
Indians as they faced up to the babus who had learned about
officialdom from the Brits and refined it to unimagined levels. Babus who
wallowed with delight in their volumes of undecipherable regulations.  I commiserated with the Egyptians as they
stacked their wallets with cash prior to any foray into the hallows of
government, ready to shell out the baksheesh needed to go from one faceless
desk to another in the hope of solving an innocuous issue.

But I am beginning to learn about envy. Whatever else the
Indians and Egyptians faced when they fronted their local bureaucracies they
knew what to expect.

I have recently been defeated in my attempt to secure a
building permit. Derailed by Kingston’s own version of third world red tape.   Our city officials apparently have an
aversion to common sense, hide willingly, dare I say eagerly, behind the armour
of regulation and by-law, pay scant attention to argument or explanation, and
have only a cursory understanding of the pressures caused by time, space and
budget.

In my case ( an attempt to obtain a building permit to
construct a 200 square foot addition to my existing house, situated in splendid
isolation on almost 10 acres, with my nearest neighbour invisible more than 100
meters away)  they denied my application
while telling me, sotto voce,  they
disagreed with the decision. A decision, I must add, that surprised their own building inspectors my very experienced contractor. Regulations,
city planners insisted, must be met and by-laws adhered to religiously.

An appeal to my local Councillor presented me with a moment
of hope and a possible course of action. Heady stuff, that amounted to naught.
His “very best on my behalf” wasn’t nearly good enough and I am left facing an
expensive minor variance process and owing money for services that were part of
the initial application.

So my extension plans have been buried, my faith in
municipal government shattered and my envy for my Egyptian and Indian
bureaucracy-suffering brethren on the rise.
People in glass houses indeed.