INTERMISSION: The message that goes with the duit raya
Personally, I am not totally at ease with the countrywide phenomenon of giving children cash during festive seasons. It is not that I am against spreading happiness around, especially to children. But I am not certain what kind of message is conveyed in the act of handing over duit raya.
This unease is rooted in the amount to be given, and the value judgement that will take hold in children’s psyche with regard to the givers and the amount they give.
In Malay households, duit raya is given to any minor who comes a-visiting. How much do you give — RM1, RM2, RM5, RM10? The closer you are with the parents or the children, the more you give. The older children, who know the value of money, will presumably get more than an infant.
My fear is that children will grow up matching names with the contents of the little envelopes. From early on, their sense of values and perception of someone could be coloured by how much they got from the person each Hari Raya.
Now, the chances are most children will grow up into materialistic adults, anyway. But, one hopes, they will be materialistic in a sense that they have a better understanding of the concept of money and what it can do, rather than develop an obsession over it and with people having lots of it.
This uneasiness however has not stopped me from giving duit raya, since as much as it is expected of me, I do like to see the smiles on children’s faces. I also gladly accept monetary gifts on behalf of Zuleika, who at four years old is more excited about getting the little packets than by their contents.
On another level, I feel the duit raya phenomenon has evolved from a seasonal indulgence into one that has a unique economic impact on the national economy.
The sudden accumulation of wealth, even if by children’s standards, will have an economic bearing beyond the joys on their faces as they rip open the duit raya packets.
I have not encountered any studies on this, perhaps due to the presumption that this occasional cash-giving is of little consequence to the greater scheme of things.
Therefore, what I am about to indulge in are projections, extrapolations and assumptions that are not only unscientific and unsubstantiated, but filled with flaws that will expose an over-imaginative hack trying to delve into the rarefied world of micro-economy. But here goes:
Statistics suggest that the total labour force in the country now stands in excess of 10 million, and that 60 per cent of the country’s population is Muslim. Now, if we extrapolate that with the workforce, there are some six million employed Muslim parents, uncles, aunties, grandparents and siblings who are likely to be giving away duit raya.
If we were to assume a national average of RM50 to be spent by each in duit raya, which for many is small, we are looking at some RM300 million injected into the system in a period of just under a month.
If we were to raise the average to RM100 per person, the system will be flush with RM600 million in immediate disposable income.
Crude, unsubstantiated and simplistic assumptions based on past economic data also suggest that this amount could contribute between 0.15 per cent and 0.2 per cent point to growth of the nation’s annual Gross Domestic Product. See what generous uncles and aunties can do.
Another simplistic extrapolation from past statistics suggest that such an amount could ramp up retail spendings and contribute quite substantially to the annual growth of the retail sector.
Wait, there is more! If we were to take all the national festive celebrations where cash-giving has been institutionalised — Hari Raya, Chinese New Year, Deepavali, Christmas, Hari Gawai, etc — and assume, quite safely, that cash would be given to children, in small envelopes provided by banks and major corporations, by the 10 million or so people who are working, then we could begin to see the total impact of the duit raya phenomenon.
The immediate spike in disposable income in the hands of minors during festivities in a year could be anywhere from a conservative RM500 million to more than RM1 billion. This is money over and above their normal allowances, or what is spent on them for their daily upkeep.
Obviously my assumptions and conclusions are over-simplistic and flawed, and any first-year economic student could puncture holes in them at will.
But I am sure that my contention that the duit raya having evolved from a benign act of benevolence, into, cumulatively, a significant economic force holds some water.
Most of the sudden cash inflow, I assume, would soon be ploughed back into the system in the form of toys, video games, movie tickets, meals at fast food joints, books and music, apparels, etc. The money would work its way into the economy and have a multiplier effect.
But we may have missed the opportunity to educate children on matters of personal finance, and the virtues of savings and investing. I have always wondered why banks and other savings and investment institutions have not used the periods during or immediately after festive seasons to direct their campaigns at children with bulging pockets.
Now, the next time we give duit raya, angpow or cash gifts, as much as we grapple over the moral, ethical dilemma of turning our children into shallow, materialistic adults with eyes fixed on the money, we should also take some comfort in our contribution to the economy and work towards ensuring our children’s future financial well-being.
Source:Zainul Arifin,New Straits Times,Nov 16.