Today, I declined an invitation.

The whole thing was a bit awkward: a Chinese lawyer made contact on linked-in a few months ago, and exchanged a couple of messages with me. He’s trying to bring together recently arrived investors from China with a range of Mandarin-speaking Australians to better understand the new country, form contacts, and integrate. I felt honoured that I was invited – but, ultimately, not extremely surprised. After all, I’ve been working in that space for a while now, and by some standards, probably did a decent job.

Unfortunately, when his assistant sent me the details for that event, it came with a hefty price-tag attached. Mind you – it’s held at a high-class venue, and the price tag may just be cost-recovery for them. Still, the whole package is beyond what I can reasonably afford. I tried to negotiate a discount – was offered one, but still beyond budget – and therefore declined.

I can have dinners any time, and I’ll probably get to meet these people somehow, but two things annoyed me with this little interaction.

First was the awkward back and forth, trying to negotiate a free seat. See, I was naive, and accepted an invitation before checking I wouldn’t have to pay. Then I found myself having to negotiate my way in – or out. It may be just a matter of cross-cultural misunderstanding, but when I accepted the first ‘invitation’ I did not expect I would have to fork in.

Words are deceptive, I know, and I should be warned. Asialink organise regular events for their alumni: last year, I went a few times, and it was a fantastic opportunity to meet people, exchange views, reconnect. This year, they started charging, and I stopped attending. The first time I received an ‘invitation’ from them, after coming back from China, I enthused – but scrolling down, discovered I would have to decline. Their functions have better food than I can afford to pay for.

Beyond the superficial annoyance at linguistic confusion, I am more deeply annoyed at the trend towards systematic ‘pay for service’. I guess it doesn’t fit in well with my current situation. Over the past three years, I have devoted many hours to cultural and educational work, and I have had numerous conversations, in Australia, China, and around the world, to build meaningful cross-cultural engagement. But the only way I was able to do that was on a volunteer basis – because cultural business models have been thrown upside down by the internet, because government cut funding for culture, because administrative silos excluded us from many pockets of funding, and because I haven’t been able to secure another stable source of income compatible with running Marco Polo Project.

I’m not sure how much the $50 or $100 that these various groups and organisations are charging for entrance contribute to their bottom line – if they’re the sign of tighter times – greedy managers – or just an ideological fad. But they certainly don’t fit in with my current circumstances. I hope the tide turns, but I fear a future where noone is invited anywhere anymore, because the logic of cost-recovery dominates everything. Our ecosystem will be the poorer for that.