The Blue Sweater

For the Sake of Freedom

2012-01-29T09:43:00.001+08:00

It took me quite a while, but in this post, I'll share my thoughts and responses with regards to a highly provocative article by Walker Vincoli in the Yale Daily News about the academic and political culture of NUS. I speak not just from the perspective of a NUS student, but from the perspective of a student involved and responsible for the organization and planning of politically-oriented activities in campus.

My first reaction to his article was utter disbelief, and his recollection of his experience while at the airport triggered my suspicions of sensationalism. While perhaps there was indeed an engagement between him and the security guard, but it is extremely unlikely that he was threatened with arrest, since security guards are simply not empowered to do so, nor did Vincoli substantiate the circumstances in which the engagement took place. The scenario, in other words, simply raised more questions than it answered.

What did the security guard tell you? How did you respond? How did the guard respond in turn?

The loss (or deliberate omission) of such contextual information is highly misleading, and coloured both his impression of Singapore, and the objectivity of his article.

The crux of his article was his concern - or outright opposition - to the setting up of the Yale-NUS college, which is to be based on a liberal arts model. His point was that Singapore simply did not have the political culture and intellectual freedom for such a collaboration to take place, and that the reputation of Yale could be adversely affected if it was to go through. As he put it:

"Yale’s apparent focus on the faculty and not the student overlooks the academic culture at NUS. Students change arguments, button their lips and absorb opinions from on high. Singapore is not a free country and NUS is not a free university."

He later went on to illustrate the limits of Singapore's academic and political freedom:

"The litmus test for academic freedom, to me, is the ability of students and faculty to engage their own country’s politics. In Singapore’s case, this happens in PS2249 at NUS: “Government and Politics of Singapore.” I sat in stunned silence week after week as the professor recounted anecdotes of People’s Action Party interference in previous iterations of the class. Lower your criticism of the PAP, he had been told. Reduce your coverage of opposition parties. These little comments peppered the lectures as he covered the basic function of Singapore’s political apparatus.

When writing my midterm paper on press freedom in Singapore, I toned down criticism of the courts’ decisions in successful lawsuits against The New York Times and Wall Street Journal, partly due to a fear of retaliatory grading and partly because I worried my paper broke the law against scandalizing the court."

I acknowledge the fact that the ability of students and faculty to engage politics is a test of academic freedom, but it is by no means the only test. Vincoli's argument is misleading on two levels. The first level is that academic freedom is conflated with political freedom. But our physicists, chemists and engineering professors, as well as our sociologists, economists and philosophers also enjoy a great deal of academic freedom as well, with the ability to publish freely and make important contributions to their respective fields.

Of course, one might say, "but they don't challenge the state!" But academic freedom has to be conceived in a holistic manner. Scientific discoveries and new economic models can have implications on government policy, and the ability of these scholars to raise these issues and for them to be engaged on the political level reflects on the presence of intellectual freedom in the country. Moreover, government officials do seek the advice of academics at times, and that in itself requires that the latter demonstrate free thinking and due objectivity. The fact that they are not carried out in the public domain does not imply that they do not exist.

Which reminds me of my Singapore Model Parliament training workshop yesterday. As part of the workshop, a guest lecture was organised for the participants, and one point raised by the panelists (Prof Walter Woon of NUS Law, MP Mr Zaqy from the PAP, and MP Ms Silvia Lim of the WP) was that consultations between government and non-government agencies or individuals are done out of the public eye, not to hide anything from the public, but to avoid unnecessary speculation, and because of the impact of these policies across time.

This in turn leads me to the second misleading aspect of Vincoli's argument: that academic/political freedom is restricted to lectures, tutorial discussions and assignments. But he ignores how students are involved in political discourse in other ways. Just consider the proliferation of political discussion in social media and in cyberspace in general (this blog is itself an example), and the wide-ranging activities hosted by student organizations that deal with political issues (forums, simulations), both by the NUS Political Association and the NUS Political Science Society, where we deal with issues which are highly controversial, such as whether the government was pursuing economic growth at all costs (NUS PA forum, 2011), and whether Singapore has become synonymous with the PAP (NUS PS Society forum, 2009), and whether Singapore is facing relative decline as reflected by recent incidents and crises (NUS PS Society forum, forthcoming in March 2012).

Vincoli did address the issue of our political fora, and he argues that Singapore students treat "knowledge as a commodity", and that "questions exist to be answered, not raised."

But what alternatives does he propose to the nature of our political fora? In my opinion, political engagement has to be constructive, and having our queries addressed in political fora on one hand reflects the sincerity of our leadership in addressing our concerns, and on the other, our sense of political awareness and our interest in political affairs, and the acknowledgement that we have a stake in the country.

Vincoli also mentioned how he had to tone down his essay for fear of "retaliatory grading." But as a friend of mine wrote on Facebook, and published his essay online, such a fear is clearly non-existent, and was a product of his own preconceptions about the nature of education in Singapore. Our lecturers have themselves been educated overseas, and NUS as a whole strives to achieve international standards in teaching and research. To say that Singapore has no political freedom based on a preexisting fear does not prove the fact that it is indeed the case. And it is in fact ironic that a foreign student hailing from a culture which is admittedly freer submits himself to a climate of fear, while local students are beginning to challenge long-held conceptions and to pursue and articulate alternative ways of interpreting and understanding things.

I admit, Singapore has a long way to go from becoming a true liberal democracy. But I also believe that we are charting our own unique path towards it, and that using an American-centric perspective as Vincoli did in assessing the nature of our political freedom is unhelpful, and ignores the way Singaporeans have sought to create a more inclusive and vibrant political culture for themselves.

Wee Keat
President
43rd Executive Committee
NUS Political Science Society*

* though I have signed off as President of PSSOC, these comments are strictly my own, and may not be attributed to the Society as a whole, nor does it reflect the official position of the Society towards Vincoli's article.

Mind Your Language II: What did you say?

2012-01-24T17:58:00.001+08:00

I was inspired to write this post after coming across this video:

The man in the show, who is now at the epicenter of a whirlwind of online criticism, is Kong Qingdong, a Peking University professor (who also claims direct descent from Confucius), and he made some remarks about Hong Kong people following an incident in the territory some time ago.

In that incident, a Hong Kong man had chastised a mainland family for allowing their child to eat in a subway train, which is prohibited. The exchange soon became a heated argument and a video recording was uploaded on the internet.

In the show, Prof (I wonder if I should include his honorific) Kong said:

"You [Hongkongers] are Chinese, right? But as I know, many Hongkongers don't think they are Chinese. They claim that we are Hongkongers, you are Chinese. They are bastards,"

"Those kinds of people used to be running dogs for the British colonialists. And until now, you [Hongkongers] are still dogs. You aren't human."

And more pertinent to us, he also took a swipe at Singaporeans too. In response to the host's statement about Hong Kong being cleaner:

"That's because of the rule of law, not because of human quality. Just like Singapore, the fine for smoking is $5000. That's the rule of law, right? The reliance on law means that the people don't have quality."

I guess Kong's statements, putting aside the fact that it's totally darned, reveals how the cultural divide , as well as the mutual resentment between ethnically similar communities have simply exploded.

What these statements reveal are perhaps a knee-jerk response to the sense of resentment expressed by the Hong Kong people towards the mainland Chinese. And this resentment, unfortunately, is not just felt in Hong Kong, but in Singapore too, though the resentment is not as outwardly expressed than in Hong Kong.

One might then ask, where does such resentment come from? Kong himself doesn't want to admit, but it's because there are immense cultural differences between Hong Kong Chinese and Mainland Chinese, and by extension, between Singapore-Chinese and the latter.

In both Hong Kong and Singapore, complaints and resentment have arisen about the "poor behaviour" of mainland Chinese, and how they do not comply with the norms in these respective places. Mainland Chinese, Kong being one of them, react to such sentiments by invoking nationalism, or even denigrating them as "colonial dogs," conflating their "norms" with colonial institutions or mentalities.

While I must emphasise Kong is not representative of all Chinese, and not all Chinese will agree with him, the fact that there is such a tension remains, and it affects everyone.

Kong betrays a strong sense of what I could describe as "mainland-centrism", the belief informed by their moral and political philosophy that all Chinese belong to this "greater China", and constitute part of a consequent greater Chinese identity. Hence the comment about the insistence that people of two different dialect groups speak Mandarin when they converse. It is an assertion of that Chinese unity defined by Beijing. Even more significantly, that sense of mainland-centrism is further expressed by his remarks of China's superior economic position over Hong kong, and how the latter is completely dependent on the former.

However, this is precisely what the Hong Kong people have been resisting. They had, and continue to have, a distinct identity from mainland China, shaped by their unique history and social development.

Of course, there are many Hong Kong people who are nostalgic about British colonial rule, but the point remains, that there is a real Hong Kong identity, expressed by their pride in Cantonese-speaking, their British-style institutions (and by extension, the rule of law).

So, does that make Hongkongers "running dogs of the British"?

It's been more than a decade since the British returned Hong Kong to China, and arguments of "lingering colonial mentalities" are not very helpful.

Not to mention the fact that Hongkongers were "beaten into obedience" by the British is a gross exaggeration. No doubt a class and racial divide existed between the British colonial authorities and the Chinese community, but all contributed in their way to the colonial landscape, and much of the divisions dissolved somewhat after the war.

And it's surprising how Kong brought up this critique about the rule of law. He argues that Hong Kong and Singapore got their cleanliness and orderliness by virtue of their "rule of law", in which offenders are severely punished. He goes on to conclude how it reflects on the "poor quality" of their citizens.

But to solely rely on moral suasion is at best slow, and at worst, ineffective. The rule of law both sets guidelines about what is socially acceptable behaviour, and a deterrent against potential offenders. In the early years of Singapore's post-independent history, the political leadership sought to discipline what was in truth a majority illiterate society, and in order to achieve that, it embarked on a two-pronged strategy of campaigning (moral suasion) and a regime of fines. As Singapore society progressed, the people became more gracious (and more educated), but the regime of fines remained (and enforcement became less stringent).

The rule of law reflects not on the quality of citizens, but the determination of the government to bring about a society where people can see the greater good in complying with socially acceptable behaviour.

Besides, if Kong does not disagree with the importance of compliance with law, and acknowledges the behaviour of Chinese overseas, why does he not propose any solutions to the problem, in which mainland Chinese are increasingly seen as behaving incongruously? Such ethnocentric rants are unlikely to do anyone any good, and worse, it'll probably do a lot in worsening the image of mainland Chinese overseas.

I guess one thing this incident reveals is just how far apart Chinese of various countries actually are, and that mainland Chinese have no claim to their own position as the centre of that imaginery "greater China", and how Chinese communities outside China have come to resist the assertion of this claim.

Peculiar Justifications

2012-01-18T21:21:00.001+08:00

The debate on the Ministerial Salary Review has by now taken a very surreal quality. A closer examination of the arguments articulated by PAP ministers and MPs reveal some very peculiar - and some might even say farcical - conceptions, deeply-held beliefs and "truths" about the entire issue.

I know it's extremely extensively discussed online, but let's first look at Grace Fu's (by now) infamous comment about the pay cuts:

"When I made the decision to join politics in 2006, pay was not a key factor. Loss of privacy, public scrutiny on myself and my family and loss of personal time were. The disruption to my career was also an important consideration.

"I had some ground to believe that my family would not suffer a drastic change in the standard of living even though I experienced a drop in my income. So it is with this recent pay cut. If the balance is tilted further in the future, it will make it harder for any one considering political office."

And today, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong said in Parliament, that:

"I do not see it likely that we are going to find it easier to get good ministers in future. I think the contrary is the case."

To add on, he spoke in support of Grace Fu, describing her as "completely right".

Before I begin my take on these comments, I believe it's fair to start by looking from their point of view, and to understand what they are driving at. First, what Grace Fu meant in that comment, taking it as a whole, was that pay was not a consideration in her decision to enter politics, and acknowledged that the current pay cuts have not, and will not affect her adversely. What she was worried about, was that if the cuts in ministerial salaries continue, we will arrive at a point whereby the people will be disincentivised from coming forward and joining politics.

This was the argument PM Lee tried to reiterate in his address to Parliament, when he said:

"Can we afford to risk the future of the country on the assumption that there's no trouble, we'll find them, salaries do not matter?"

In other words, what they are afraid of is the possibility that the quality of the future generation of Singapore leaders will be compromised by the salary cuts.

Sounds far-sighted, isn't it? And it's very typical (and admittedly, admirable) of the PAP to think this far into the future. But the argument is not without problems and flaws.

First of all, it's perhaps obvious to everyone by now that these arguments are self-contradictory. The paradox goes like this:

If you didn't join politics for the pay, and you believe that politicians should not be joining politics for the pay, and you believe that the current pay revisions will not be overly detrimental in its impact, then why are you all so worried about the pay cuts?

Second, the arguments raised by Mr Lee and Ms Fu are typical slippery slope arguments, and - though unsaid - critical of the opposition:

If we make a cut today, the opposition will use it as a starting point to press for further cuts (and they will have public sentiment behind them), and by the next election, if the results are not favourable, more pay revisions will have to be made, so on and so forth, until the salaries are so low that it'll have an impact on the quality of talent in the country.

To be fair, it's probably partly human nature that our leaders react like this. Nobody likes pay cuts, politicians included. The problem is that their justifications for limiting the amount of cuts to be made and how they are made reflect (or betray) some of their attitudes, pre-conceptions, and strategies regarding the recruitment of political talent. One might perhaps even suspect a sense of self-righteousness or sense of entitlement. Let's look at why.

The first attitude that is revealed by this debate is that the Government (i.e., the PAP) must monopolise all political talent in Singapore. All political talent should join the PAP, represent their constituents as PAP MPs, and do their part for the nation in the name of the PAP. The implication of this attitude is that any method will be utilized to attract what the Party considers talent into entering politics. Appealing to their sense of duty is one method, but for those "talent" who are not motivated by that, this is where the high pay comes in.

This is probably why one sees such diverse opinion within the PAP regarding the issue of ministerial pay: some are truly motivated by the sense of duty, and hence they profess that these pay cuts are inconsequential, while others show their concern about the impact of such pay cuts on future politicians' (and by extension, people like themselves') motivation to serve.

Then one might ask, why must the PAP government monopolise all political talent? The simple answer is that they simply want to deny the opposition the chance to entrench themselves politically. The more complex answer is that it's part of their long-held belief (since Lee Kuan Yew's time as PM) that national development should be led by the state, that the PAP is the state, and that the state should be led by talented people, therefore the PAP should have all the talent to lead the development of the nation.

It's a talent policy informed and shaped by the process of state-led development as a result of historical circumstance. Of course, one can then question whether this particular way of doing things should be reconsidered in the context of a different era.

The other way to look at this issue of pay cuts, and the so-called impact on the next generation, is that attitude that the PAP mustn't just capture all talent, it must also capture young talent.

It has been a long-standing policy of the PAP to have a constant renewal of its political leadership, periodically introducing new MPs and Ministers every general election. In particular, the PAP inducts relatively young political talent, providing them with the practical exposure and grooming them to be leaders of the succeeding generation.

While having "new blood", as this policy is often described as, serves an important function, the challenge is to encourage young individuals to take up a political career at what the PAP considers immense opportunity cost. In this respect, the PAP is probably right in that the public sector is in competition with the private sector for talent, since both want young, energetic talent in their ranks.

But it somehow comes across to one as trying to have one's cake and eat it. First you demand that all talent come to you, and you also want young talent to join your ranks. I can sort of understand why the PM keeps talking about why it's so hard for him to look for talent, but that's really because he has been trying to fulfill all these mutually conflicting demands.

In my opinion, for a country to enjoy a sustainable development, and a dedicated leadership, it's not exactly whether your government fulfills some form of demographic cross-section or criteria. What is important is that to have a political culture where individuals can join in from different avenues (i.e. different parties), serve in different ways, but all for the same purpose.

The PAP government will have to reflect on its policy of monopolising talent and putting them through the state-party machine, and consider whether this has been the root cause of this "talent crunch" and "salary spiral" all along.

And of course, why does all the PAP ministers and MPs seem to assume that these cuts are permanent? Perhaps they themselves probably implicitly concede that they're at the summit, where the only way to go is down.

But I suppose, as a start, it's far more productive to simply say, "we accept the recommendations", move on, deliver good leadership, and then we can discuss whether rewards are in order.

Two Speeches

2012-01-16T19:50:00.000+08:00

Parliament has been debating the Ministerial Salary Review over the past few days. Politicians from both the ruling party and opposition have stated their views about the recommendations of the review committee, to which I have stated my own reflections in my previous post.

Today, I came across two speeches, one by Acting Minister of Community, Youth and Sports, MG (NS) Chan Chun Sing, and the other by Worker's Party MP Chen Show Mao.

Both their speeches, made at different occasions, gave me much food for thought for the issue of ministerial salaries, as approached by both the ruling party and opposition.

But first, here's what General Chan said:

“(For example,) you go to Peach Garden, you eat the S$10 XO Sauce chye tow kuay (fried carrot cake), you can be quite happy right? Because you are satisfied with the service and so on. On the other hand, you can go to a hawker centre, even if they charge you S$1.50, you might not want to eat it if the quality is not good.”

To be fair, General Chan was simply trying to prove that one has to be prepared to pay for good leadership. Which I don't disagree with. It's just that the argument has limitations, which are simultaneously highlighted by his analogy.

Visakan Veerasamy made a critique of his analogy, which I found a most interesting read.

Here I'll like to give my own take to the statement. While I agree that the best chye tow kuay is not necessarily the most expensive, there is one more point to consider, that Singaporeans were tolerant of high ministerial salaries, provided the ministers deliver the goods, and provide the leadership and service that the people elected them for.

Of course, the current resentment towards the PAP government, exposed during the last General Election, which prompted this salary review, along with other policy adjustments, are indeed the reflection of the public sentiment that the government has failed to deliver, and therefore undeserving of the high salaries they used to enjoy.

To take General Chan's analogy, people are ok with paying $10 for XO Sauce chye tow kuay, if they can afford it themselves, and that the service is truly good. If one was to eat the same chye tow kuay in a restaurant with broken air-conditioning (like the MRTs) and bad service (like condescending/insensitive politicians), and when rising costs result in tighter budgets and hence less willingness to spend too much, it's difficult to expect customers to pay that sum of money, since to them it's simply not worthwhile.

And using the food analogy is just as interesting, since it implicitly concedes to the idea that public service is like running a restaurant, where good service is expected, and the customer is top priority.

In Parliament, Mr Chen Show Mao gave a speech with regards to the salary review, an excerpt of which is placed below:

"The Cabinet is the constitutional extension of Parliament and the institutional expression of the legislature’s control over the executive. It is not an extension of the private sector."

This statement captures the essence of the issue behind ministerial salaries and public service in general. The point is, one has to acknowledge the fact that public service is intrinsically different from the private service, and the primary incentive for joining public service is the desire to serve the country, and salary only secondary.

In addition, his statement represents the symbolic significance of salary cuts, and highlights the commitment and priorities of government: service to the people.

All in all, two speeches, two very different takes on ministerial salaries.

Duty and Dollars

2012-01-06T08:24:00.001+08:00

On Thursday, I was invited to the Channel NewsAsia talkshow Blogtv.sg.

The topic was the recent recommendations on ministerial pay cuts, and I discussed the issue with three other guests. Well, as always, time wasn't on our side, and half an hour, even without commercial breaks, is hardly enough for a through discussion of such a complex issue that concerns Singaporeans.

I too felt that I was convoluted at times, and I also felt that some of my own thoughts could have been expressed better.

But well, this is where this blog comes in. In this post, I would like to explore in greater depth the issues surrounding the question of ministerial pay, and the implications of the current pay cuts.

I. Are the cuts enough?

Most people have expressed the view that the pay cuts are a good start, but that ministerial salaries can be reduced further. Some argued that despite the cuts, Singapore's ministers remain the highest paid in the world, and some have also argued that the way in which the cuts are made reflects the accommodation of public sentiment without addressing the problematic principles and philosophy that underlies the way the pay-scales are calculated.

I agree with these views, and I argued in the show that the cuts are insufficient for two main reasons, that the salaries are still pegged to a unrepresentative proportion of the population (top 1000 earners in Singapore, which is a fraction of 1 percent), and that the new National Bonus is still connected to economic indicators, and should be broadened to include other indicators to address the overall well-being of the citizenry.

II. Low pay = low performance?

This is one of the oft-cited arguments in favour of high salaries for public officials. We want to have competent and capable people to come forward, and we have to be prepared to pay top dollar for top talent. Some even put it in this expression: "if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys."

The other argument raised in favour of high salaries in when Singapore is put in comparison with other countries. Mr Lee Kuan Yew is one of the main proponents of this argument, that if ministers are not well paid, the quality of leadership will fall. I also once come across a similar argument, in which Singapore is compared to the US. The argument went that US officials are paid less, and the result is high unemployment and crime rates, crumbling infrastructure, and generally mediocre government.

But to me, these arguments, though valid, have two main weaknesses. The first is that the high salaries, pegged to that of CEOs of multi-national companies, imply a narrow definition of talent (i.e., the CEO-types). The implication is that we must have people with the managerial qualities of CEOs to run the country. The problem, however, is that one, there can be bad and unethical CEOs.

In other words, high pay is no guarantee of performance.

And two, that it implies that the public sector is competing with the private sector for talent (which is arguably true), but reality puts this supposed competition into question. Our politicians are mostly ex-civil servants or ex-SAF officers. If we are supposed to be competing with the private sector for CEO-types, then either the strategy has failed, or that the government simply has a narrow definition of talent, and has adopted a self-perpetuating talent scheme that has implications on the diversity of talent within the leadership.

The second weakness of these arguments is that to compare other countries runs the risk of over-simplifying the real (or multiple) reasons for their poorer performance relative to Singapore's. Taking the US as an example, the high employment and crime rates, as well as crumbling infrastructure reflect a structural decline in the US (for instance, structural unemployment), and the low priorities accorded to national development (think of where most of the budget goes to, for a country that spends more on defence than the rest of NATO combined). In addition, the US philosophy of low government intervention also means that a lot of dyfunctions are the result of private sector mismanagement, rather than government incompetence (though one can make the argument than low regulation is itself a manifestation of incompetence).

III. Tradeoffs and compensation

This is the next oft-cited argument, that there is a need to pay public officials well, to compensate them for the opportunity cost for taking up public service (and giving up better-paying private sector jobs), and for the public scrutiny and personal sacrifices that public service entails.

While I agree with these arguments in principle, I do have a few questions in mind.

The first question is whether public officials are aware that such personal sacrifices and public scrutiny is part and parcel of political life.

Indeed, one suspects whether politicians, especially PAP politicians, have been too complacent, and have for too long assumed that the people would uncritically accept their decisions and policies, and unquestioningly support or concur with their statements. At an age where the country as a whole is maturing politically, and as people are increasingly vocal and critical about political affairs, it is perhaps necessary for the leadership to reflect on how they can adapt to such times.

The second question is a simpler one, which I alluded to in the show. The question stems from my opinion that the use of high salaries to compensate for these tradeoffs is simplistic and at best a stopgap solution. Can money replace or buy privacy? It's telling indeed that rich individuals also tend not to be happy. It's a question that applies not just to politicians, but also to prominent businessmen, and especially to celebrities. Is such a form of compensation truly compensation?

For me, and which many would agree, public service demands specific qualities. Having the spirit of serving the people, and the desire to serve. What brings about happiness and satisfaction in any occupation, which in turn fosters competence and confidence, are the personal qualities that compels one to come forward, and to serve, in full knowledge of the sacrifices and difficulties that will entail.

IV. Deterring corruption

This is definitely the most salient, most powerful argument justifying high salaries. The argument is that officials need to be paid well, so that they can live comfortably, and do not have to resort to corruption to supplement their income. High salaries also reduce the propensity for officials to utilise their political influence to maximise their wealth.

This is an argument that everyone can agree on. I agree with this argument too. And a comparison with other countries empirically prove the point, where poorly paid civil servants make use of their political power, however weak, to increase their income. As demonstrated from the petty corruption of police accepting bribes to clear offenders of charges, to the large-scale embezzling of large sums of public money by senior officials, to the "corruption" of personal donations and campaign funding.

Not to mention the fact that Singapore uses a transparent "clean wage" system, in which ministers receive only monetary pay, and no perks as in other countries, where public officials are entitled to cars, houses, etc.

The issue in Singapore's context is, however, whether this argument has been stretched too far. We acknowledge the need to pay public officials well, but are we paying too much, to the point whereby this purpose is completely lost?

Some criticise critics of ministerial pay as "racers to the bottom", people who want to push it as far down before trouble arises. But could supporters of high ministerial pay (not to mention the ministers) themselves been guilty of a "race to the top", to see how high they can push it before serious political consequences arise?

Not to mention the crucial flaw in the deterrence argument: it assumes that high pay will remove the need to be corrupt, and at the very least, satiate their need for personal well-being. But if a person is extremely financially ambitious (euphemism for the downright greedy), no amount of money will work on that person. Our civil servants are well-paid, but that in no way prevents cases of corruption from occurring, the most recent case in the Singapore Land Authority being a classic example.

In short, it's effective, but it's not foolproof.

Which brings me to my next point: that counter-corruption requires a complementary, "carrot-and-stick" approach. As I mentioned in the show, we need to pay them well to disincentivise corruption, but also a powerful and credible counter-corruption agency like CPIB to investigate corruption. Putting the question of the independence and potential corruptibility of CPIB itself aside, this two-pronged strategy justifies the reduced pay of officials, by reminding them of the dire consequences of corruption to themselves.

In addition, the fundamental way to tackle corruption is to inculcate a positive political culture, in which officials are conscious of the fact that it's much more worthwhile, both financially and morally, to earn a decent wage by doing honest work, and for the people to be politically aware, and for effective and credible checks and balances within the political system.

Duty and dollars are not mutually exclusive, but one by no means substitutes the other.

Two Years of Our Time (and More): Defaulters vs. the Defaulter's Parade

2012-01-04T22:30:00.000+08:00

My girlfriend shared this post from the blog Senang Diri today about the return of the pianist (and NS defaulter) Melvyn Tan to Singapore for a piano recital.

He started a controversy when he tried to return to Singapore for a concert in 2005, and it was discovered that he dodged National Service by staying in the UK for more than 20 years, never returning to complete his liability.

The sense of resentment among male Singaporeans were particularly strong, and his case led to a toughening for the penalties for defaulting on NS (Melvyn was fined $3000 for his offense).

The post covered mainly the change in attitude by the Establishment towards his return, and how the public rather forgot about the fact that he was a NS dodger.

Some time ago, the Online Citizen published an article by Leong Sze Hian about Permanent Residents (PRs) evading NS by renouncing their PR status before they are due to be called up. In the article, he called for greater transparency with regards to the outflow of NS-liable PRs, and queried whether those that returned to Singapore were disadvantaged or penalised.

Not to mention the controversy surrounding the son of the current President Tony Tan.

One thing in common about all these articles is how the issue of NS defaulters continue to stir up sentiments of resentment and concern among Singaporeans, particularly male Singaporeans. As I have discussed in the What am I Defending series of posts, NS involved great sacrifices of time and opportunities (and for some - tragically - their lives) for Singaporeans, and individuals who have defaulted from their liability are treated with disdain and contempt.

Here, I'll like to explore how such sentiments come about, and what can be done about the current situation.

A collective experience. That's the reason why NS has such a hold on the Singaporean male, and why NS defaulters are so severely criticised.

NS is a rite of passage, an important part of the collective experience of Singapore males. Surviving the rigours of training and the regimentation confers an immense sense of pride, and it is this sense of identity as individuals who have been through the process that provides the notion of a common experience among people.

At a different level, Singaporeans find it difficult to empathise with those who have defaulted NS, because they have not been through the hardship that they had experienced, and by extension, that collective experience that binds Singaporeans. In addition, defaulters can also be conceived of and portrayed as weak and/or pampered, which further contributes to the same sense of contempt.

But most significantly, defaulters, who tend to be from well-off backgrounds, reflect the gap within society, and the sense of resentment that the elites are the ones who get away from the hardships and policies that others have to endure.

In the context of immigration, the issue of PRs not serving NS has added a new dimension to the debate. In this context, their ultimate loyalties are being brought into question, and there is also the question of whether Singaporeans' sacrifices of time and opportunities were in vain.

Therefore, the issue of NS defaulters continue to spark intense debate among Singaporeans, mainly because of the emotional and practical implications of the policy.

But what can be done with regards to such a situation?

I have discussed some potential approaches to the issue previous posts, so I shan't repeat them. But there are other approaches, which have been practiced elsewhere, but which the government will find hard to contemplate.

One solution is to abolish NS and rely on a professional military. Taiwan is moving in that direction, with service durations reduced to one and a half years, and further to only four months. The advantage is that it's a solution that everyone can be happy with. The citizens are happy because it relieves them of their liability, and frees up their time and energies, the military is happy because an all-volunteer force is committed, and higher in quality, and the soldiers are happy because they can be paid more.

The trouble for Singapore is that our population is far too small to sustain a credible professional force. In addition, the commitments in terms of time and the occupational risks can also be disincentives.

The other solution is substantial reforms in the NS system. More has to be done to mitigate the concerns among Singaporeans that they are disadvantaged, and are sacrificing too much. Current efforts such as incentives and payouts should be acknowledged, but they do not address the root of the problem. The issue also involves adjusting the attitude of all parties (government, employers and servicemen) about NS.

(photo: me in an M113 armoured personnel carrier, during a Battalion Mission Exercise, circa Oct 2008)

I have a rather ambivalent personal recollection of NS, but I guess it's also the experience with which I connect with other Singaporeans, and with whom I share an identity.

A Hot Potato

2012-01-03T21:01:00.003+08:00

I was inspired to write something after coming across comments and posts shared by my friends on Facebook about Aljunied GRC MP Pritam Singh's statements, quoted on an article on the Chinese daily Lianhe Zaobao on New Year's Day.

Well, for the benefit of readers, and in my attempt to avoid any ambiguity and misinterpretation, here are some quotes from Zaobao, with the corresponding translation my own:

"毕丹星重申工人党立场：救济人民是政府的责任，不应由议员来承担。

他表示，反对党议员的作用之一是在国会里提出执政党议员因碍于党督限制，而没有提出的尖锐议题，而不是发放福利金。"

"Pritam Singh reiterates the position of the Worker's Party: Assisting the needy is the responsibility of the Government, and should not be imposed on MPs.

He says, one of the roles of Opposition MPs is to raise the sharp questions that MPs of the ruling party can't due to the restrictions by the Party Whip, and not the distribution of welfare funds."

To be honest, it does sound somewhat strange when you hear it for the first time, and the comment has redoubtably triggered criticism.

Here, I'll like to explore what he meant by this statement (or more accurately, what I think he meant), and the implications of this statement to Singapore politics.

Is caring for the poor the responsibility of the Government or the MPs?

I think Mr Singh was trying to say that the Government, or in other words the Executive, are in the position to formulate policies that will alleviate the plight of the poor, and improve their well-being. Of course, one might ask, can't MPs formulate policies? The answer is yes, and no. MPs can propose legislation, known in Parliament as "Private Bills", but those proposed by the Government ("Government Bills") take precedence. The Government is therefore in a better position to formulate policy, and in the context of this issue, help the poor.

Then one might ask, can't MPs feedback to the government, and offer suggestions? Isn't that what all MPs having been doing in Parliament? That's true, but the degree to which the Government will listen to the Opposition and adopt their views is always debatable. We want to believe that our Government is pragmatic, but when policy options are drawn along party lines, it can be very difficult to be impartial.

And of course, the power of the Party Whip is very real indeed. It is perhaps true that Opposition MPs do not face the same constraints as Government MPs.

However, this raises an interesting question: suppose in the far future we have a true two-party system, and the Opposition is strong enough to form a shadow cabinet, and have a Whip. Will the Opposition MPs be entitled to the same "freedom of conscience" that they have today? Or will they also have to toe the party line?

In addition, strictly speaking, Mr Singh is right in saying that MPs serve by being a check on the Government, asking Ministers questions about government policy (hence Question Time in Parliament), and scrutinising legislation. And if his comment sounds provocative, I think it's partly because we have come to associate 'MP' as managers of our Town Councils as well. In countries such as Britain, from which we got our Parliamentary system, Parliament and local government are two distinct entities, serving different functions.

The Aljunied MPs also run their own Town Council, and presumably serve the same functions as their PAP counterparts. But it's important to remember that in Singapore's context, Opposition MPs are handicapped in their ability to manage their wards, and furthermore, the PAP government sets up institutions (the so-called "grassroots advisers" or de-facto MPs, etc) that bypass the elected MPs.

Therefore, it is perhaps understandable that, as alluded by their slogan "Towards a First World Parliament", the Worker's Party emphasises their role as a check on the government, since that is the one function they can credibly serve.

But to be fair, I guess what Mr Singh neglects is the fact that MPs can help in their own way. While the government is ultimately responsible in the policy level, MPs can initiate or promote local initiatives to help the needy. In addition, MPs should, if not already, bring up the plight of our poor to the attention of the Government in Parliament.

All in all, though I can see his point, Mr Pritam Singh's comments can be grossly misunderstood, since he has adopted a narrow definition of the roles and functions of a MP. But what is more worrisome is the situation where the responsibility for taking care of the poor is passed between MPs and the Government as if it was a hot potato. That will be the height of irresponsibility.

A New Year

2012-01-01T09:01:00.002+08:00

It's the first day of a new year, and here I'll like to wish everyone a happy 2012, and a smooth-sailing year ahead.

Like I mentioned in my new year post last year, I don't believe in new year resolutions, but I do like to reflect on what happened over the past year, and my thoughts for the next.

So, what was 2011 for me?

It was a most stressful year, but also a most rewarding one. A heavy workload for my studies (which is likely to continue), and CCA commitments have given me a hectic semester, but which I had received many rewards. My studies, and the organizing and hosting of SMUN 2011 have been a great success, but both would not have been possible without the advice and support of my love, friends, and lecturers.

And of course, it's important that I do not become complacent. Having warned against complacency yesterday, it'll be foolish of me not to heed my own advice. The coming years will only be more challenging, but I believe that with the support of those around me, I can overcome these challenges, and I want to help my loved ones overcome theirs too.

2011 was also the year I found love. It was beyond my expectations, but the year marked the beginning of a wonderful relationship. Though we've had difficulties, but we were able to overcome them, and our love for each other only emerged stronger from these trials. And I'm sure, with our careful cultivation, it'll blossom into a beautiful relationship that will last.

And I promise to do more, because I treasure this relationship, because I want to bring happiness to her, and because I love her so much.

2011 marked a long hiatus for this blog, due to an extraordinarily busy schedule, and it was only after the exams that I could start writing again. Hopefully I can contribute more this year, to be able to share my thoughts and opinions about various issues and episodes.

Once again, I wish everyone success and happiness in the new year.

Overreacting?

2011-12-31T16:37:00.002+08:00

I chanced upon this article in the Straits Times website, and was prompted to write a response.

The article, which was about whether Singaporeans overreacted to the recent MRT breakdowns, cited Ms Sidrah Arif, who said:

"I do feel that peoples' reaction was over-the-top especially when there are other means to getting to places in Singapore. It's a geographically small place not like in a huge city where there's no other option. "

Ms Arif was also introduced as someone who had worked in London for three years before coming to Singapore, and was, as stated in the article, 'used to train delays at the London tube.'

Putting aside whether it was the SMRT PR machine at work, or that it's typical of an article from a government mouthpiece, I want to look at this quote in more detail, and my views of how valid it is.

Her comments have been, well, thought-provoking (to put it mildly) for me, and I can only wonder what the reaction of netizens to it might be.

In a sense, she's right, in the sense that other cities such as London are more susceptible to train delays. But in my opinion, she missed the point, and she seemed to forget there are several reasons why Singapore shouldn't be compared to London.

Fundamentally, she missed the point because the reason for peoples' frustration and anger at the breakdown was precisely because of the lack of other options. When the trains broke down during the evening rush hour, the numbers affected are truly enormous. All in all, more than 120 000 people were affected that day. Given the sheer number of people, any alternative form of transport, be it the emergency shuttle service, or taxis, will be under severe stress. More crucially, while Singapore is indeed relatively small geographically, it's not like places such as Venice, where you can basically get from one end of the city to another on foot.

Not to mention that a decent transportation system is the basic requirement of any major city.

In addition, she seems to neglect the crucial differences between Singapore and other cities. First, why are there delays and breakdowns in other cities?

Strikes.

Collective action by labour unions are well known to cause paralyzing effects to productivity and the delivery of goods and services. The policies adopted by the state since independence (such as tripartism and corporatism), while eroding the power of the labour movement, is precisely to prevent the debilitating effect of strikes.

Second, as compared to our transport network, the London tube is even older. For history's first subway network, you really have to give it some slack.

And speaking of alternatives, it's difficult to compare whether there are other ways to get around, when the London tube network looks like this:

And ours like this:

And here's a bit of my own experience with the tube (during my trip to London for LIMUN, see my post The Parliament of Man VII). During weekends, some of the lines, such as the Circle and Metropolitan Lines will be closed. But it's still possible to reach the City, by taking detours.

Therefore, one has to empathise why people got angry that day (and why many still are). How do you justify a breakdown when you have a political culture that has pre-empted any possibility of industrial action that might disrupt the system, and more importantly, for a relatively new system with new lines and new trains? The reasons are managerial, and one must not always fall back on the "it's even worse in other countries" argument, because it is dangerously close to complacency, and eroding of a society's desire for improvement.

When there is a problem, do we simply console ourselves by saying "it's worse elsewhere?" We have the right to be proud of a transport system that performs well consistently, but no right to be proud of one that simply aim to commit less errors than the others. We should aim for a 'A', and not take pride in being top of the class with a 'B' when everyone else gets a 'C'.

It's not perfectionism, but high standards should be our benchmark, and our motivator, and our guardian against complacency. The people, who are the consumers and beneficiaries of the system, have the right, as stakeholders, to make demands.

Ultimately, comparison is valid, but it also has to be meaningful comparison.

Whither North Korea?

2011-12-28T21:32:00.001+08:00

Kim Jong Il (1941-2011)

Today is the funeral of the late "Dear Leader" Kim Jong Il of North Korea, who died last Saturday reportedly following a heart attack as a result of "mental and physical strain".

Amidst the sombre, snowy setting in Pyongyang, in which the funeral took place, and amidst the wailing and weeping of the North Korean populace upon the news of his death and as the funeral procession passed by them, it's worthwhile to take a look at the man, the state he inherited and ran, and the future direction of the North Korean state.

Reality is more mundane than myth, and the birth of Kim was no exception. As part of the elaborate personality cult that was constructed around him during his ascent to power, the circumstances of his birth his been shrouded with a quasi-mythical quality. His birth at Mt. Baekdu was heralded by the appearance of a double rainbow over the mountain and the appearance of a new star. I've heard even more ludicrous details about his birth, but I shan't go into that.

In actual fact, he wasn't even born in Korea, but in Khabarovsk in the Soviet Union.

Over time he became involved in matters of state, presumably in order to eventually succeed his father, Kim Il Sung, the founding leader of the DPRK. And it indeed took place following the latter's death in 1994, the national reaction and funeral of which closely mirrors the scenes we have seen today.

As leader, Kim Jong Il presided over a Stalinist state with a crumbling economy, extreme political policing, and a unpredictable foreign policy. The famines in the 1990s led to the death of millions, and North Koreans today continue to suffer from malnutrition and food shortages. Characteristic of a Stalinist system, the slightest dissent against the regime was not tolerated, and thousands were sent to labour camps for "re-education", where they worked and lived under the most horrific conditions, and died.

But the problems emerged even before Kim's ascent to power. Following the fall of the Soviet Union and the economic reforms in China, North Korea with its persistence in its idea of Juche (self-reliance) became increasingly isolated from the rest of the world, with its links to the Communist world severed (since that world is crumbling around it). While links continue with China and states like Cuba, the divergences between it and the former are beginning to show. China is caught in a dilemma, between the strategic purposes that North Korea serves, and the problems that the unpredictability and instability of the regime pose to itself.

That isolation, both self-imposed and imposed by circumstances, limited the options in its national direction. As its economy began to crumble, the Korean Worker's Party (as the ruling communists call themselves) stepped up its already tight control over the population in a web of anti-capitalist and anti-American propaganda in a bid to shore up popular acceptance of its rule.

Will the new leader, Kim Jong Un, son of the deceased leader take the country in a different direction? Or will he be reduced to a figurehead, with the generals and his relatives (serving as de-facto 'regents') pulling the strings? Or will he even be deposed directly in a military coup?

It's too early to tell at this stage, and we can only speculate what will happen. But it is most likely that things might not change too dramatically in the short term, since the younger Kim (and his supporters) need time to consolidate their control. Though the opposite can also happen, if they desire some form of foreign policy triumph (like another missile launch, or Choenan Incident) they can use for their own political purposes.

Either way, the status of the regime, and the region as a whole, remain uncertain.

Mind Your Language

2011-12-26T21:11:00.004+08:00

The "racism" saga that was Mr Seng Han Thong's remarks on Blogtv.sg about the command of English among SMRT station staff has been the subject of much discussion online and offline.

While much discussion revolve around the implications on his political image and that of the PAP government,and whether his comments were reflective of the attitudes and (unspoken) mindsets of our elites, or even whether Mr Seng's is really a racist or not...

And whether Mr Seng's apology can be accepted in terms of his sincerity (or lack of, as argued by Molly Meek in a well written post)...

I want to make use of this post to explore some of the wider significance and implications of his comments, and how they reflect the attitudes of our leadership towards language.

Is Mr Seng a racist? Honestly I don't know. My take was that he was being stereotypical. Stereotypes are simplifications of reality, a mental image that an individual has about things. Though I don't know whether this was what he really thought, his impression of MRT station staff could be "majority Malay and Indian", and that affected how he interpreted the situation. The trouble is that interpreting occupational stereotypes based on a racial lens is seriously dangerous territory.

So to conclude, he wasn't intentionally racist, but he made a dangerously insensitive remark that could be construed as one.

But putting the issue of alleged racism aside, I guess this reflects important issues about our language policy and socio-political culture.

Though I would say he's a poor exponent of this policy, but he is articulating the elitist attitude towards language as adopted by the PAP government. The suppression of Singlish, the Speak Good English Movement, and Mr Seng's remarks are manifestations of the PAP government's definition and enforcement of a "standard" English. By playing the role of a grammar police, the government asserts the standards of a lingua franca it deems acceptable, and attempts to discipline the public into compliance with such standards.

But his comment, while seeking to explain how there was a communication breakdown, did not achieve that purpose. Instead, it reveals yet more problems within the crisis, and by extension, our culture.

If "poor English" led to a communications breakdown, then how do Singaporeans communicate with each other on a daily basis? If Singlish was the linguistic bond between Singaporeans, then it wasn't the failure to speak good English, but the suppression of Singlish, and indeed, of the other national languages that resulted in the communications breakdown.

And one must not discredit the hard work of station staff, who were working to alleviate the situation that day under very difficult conditions. Rather than attribute the cause to such issues as language, our leaders should, as a lesson from Mr Seng's experience, look more deeply at the fundamental causes of the crisis, and perhaps, also mind their language.

Two years of our time II: Whither Efficiency and Initiative?

2011-12-24T19:44:00.001+08:00

Before beginning on my post, here’s wishing my love, all my friends, and all readers a merry Christmas. :)

I ended my 2nd in-camp training yesterday, and my experiences, and a conversation gave me some thoughts about how the Army is managed, and some reflections on such management from a NS-man, and essentially, civilian, point of view.

One issue that one must engage when talking about military culture in Singapore, is that there are two phases of National Service, both of which are different in terms of the experience, the dynamics, and the perceptions participants have of them.

The first is the Active phase, the two-year (for some – like myself – 1 year and 10 months) full time National Service. The second is the 10-year NS phase, where NSmen (as we are now called) return periodically for in-camp training (still called “reservist training” informally) over the next 10 years.

Of course, military life vary a lot from individual to individual, depending on one’s service type and vocation. My experience as an infantry sergeant is very different from my friends in other army units, the Navy or the Air Force, or serving as officers or as enlistees. But generally, life in an active unit is characterised by strict regimentation, as well as intense physical and mental stress.

Things are slightly different in a NS unit. There is less regimentation and less stress, though the training remains essentially the same. Of course, for many, age has caught up with them, and the deterioration of one’s physical and combat fitness can be quite marked indeed.

But the focus of today’s post is, as the title suggests, about the issue of efficiency in the military. From the perspective of a NSman-civilian, this is perhaps the most often-raised criticism of the military. As much as the military claims to be an efficient institution (and to be fair, many units are), instances of inefficiency continue to plague the military, and affect people’s (especially NSmen's) judgment of the institution.

Why is that so?

At the end of my in-camp training, and while waiting (for more than an hour) for out-processing, I had a conversation with my friend about this issue. I suggested, why don’t they let the companies that are ready out-process first? That way it’s fairer to the company that is ready first, and more importantly, prevent a bottleneck over at the out-processing centre.

My friend, who was also my co-commander, thought that it could be construed as preferential treatment, which can be divisive, and hence bad for the battalion as a whole.

And following the wait, the result was expected: the whole battalion descended upon the out-processing centre, and a bottleneck situation ensued.

The key issue behind this discussion is a contradiction that lies at the heart of the current army philosophy, which was raised not just during the conversation with my friend, but also by my supervisors during my internship at RSIS.

The contradiction is that the army leadership is trying to promote initiative and efficiency within an institution that fundamentally, does not privilege individuality and innovation, and emphasises the importance of hierarchy and authority.

Of course, that’s not to say the higher-ups don’t recognise this contradiction. But initiative is at best bounded, encouraged so far as hierarchy and procedure is respected, or when the objective is achieved. In other words, instead of passively awaiting instructions, junior commanders and enlistees preempt the wishes of the higher-ups, and carries out tasks as expected. In this respect, there is still little room for innovation.

As for efficiency, I was reminded of something another of my supervisor at RSIS said: “armies are not designed to be efficient”.

They are not designed to be efficient, because their priority is to be effective. The consumption of resources are a secondary concern as compared to whether they have them in the first place to carry out their purpose. Hence the situation in the US, where the military brass and the politicians who support them consistently raise the “give them whatever they need so that they can do their job” argument.

Looking at the SAF, it sometimes seems that neither efficiency nor effectiveness is being achieved. I do not doubt that the SAF has improved a lot in the past years. It has certainly become more capable in terms of its capabilities, and it has also become more purpose-oriented, which is good for promoting efficiency and effectiveness.

But there are of course cracks in the system, and arguably, these cracks, though actually minor, can erode the overall confidence in the system, and undermine the justification to maintain one’s continued commitment to it.

One issue in particular is that of purpose-orientation. This is where another contradiction lies. The Army is an institution, like many others, that take pride in its tradition. Many practices continue due to tradition, performed over many years, and form a part of its identity and ethos. Some are ceremonial, like parades, while others may have had a practical purpose.

The problem is when the purpose is lost, either due to irrelevance as the army progresses in its procedures, or that the original intent is forgotten. But some army commanders continue to hold on to these practices, some out of a sense of conservatism and “traditionalism”.

What is worrisome, is whether commanders have the intelligence and/or the moral courage to recognise that these practices are outdated, and change them accordingly. Understandably, they are bound by the military hierarchy, or are limited by the nature of their appointment.

But if the army is to genuinely be an institution that encourages innovation and efficiency, there has to be a way for commanders (and men) to break out of this straitjacket and be truly purpose-oriented. One can be ignorant about the importance of tradition, or find it unnecessary, but not knowing the purpose behind any practice, and not recognising and promoting the need for change can stultify an institution, and this can affect not just the military, but any other organisation.

In this respect, I guess this is another lesson the MRT breakdowns can teach us about the current state of affairs.

A System Off the Rails

2011-12-18T10:23:00.002+08:00

On Friday, Singapore experienced the worst disruption in its train service in recent history, with thousands of passengers stranded in trains, and many more inconvenienced and affected.

Though I was not directly affected, I can empathise as a commuter with those who underwent the turmoil that evening, and I too felt indignant about the scale of the crisis and the mismanagement of the situation.

The public outcry has been intense, and understandably so. There has been pressure for the government to intervene, as well as calls for the CEO of SMRT to resign.

And much ink has been spilled regarding the reasons for this fiasco. Besides the technical, immediate reasons for the disruption, other more fundamental reasons have also been raised, such as the complacency, inflexibility and misconceived assumptions that are emblematic of our technocratic culture, as argued by Joshua Chiang in an Online Citizen article, and the dysfunctions of the profit-driven corporate culture of SMRT.

The problem isn’t just that the trains failed. As the trains ground to a halt that evening, SMRT fell back on its “emergency procedures”. However, the evident chaos only begs the question: “what happened to these procedures?”

As their Standard Operating Procedures failed and nothing worked according to plan, there was no “Plan B”, no fallback position, and no initiative on the part of station personnel on the ground. The result was paralysis.

More fundamentally, SMRT continues to justify itself in terms of the presence and activation of these procedures. While it can be argued as an attempt at Public Relations management, it also goes to show how deeply held these pre-conceptions are, and how resistant the institution is to change.

While the profit-motive is arguably a contributing factor in the crisis, as necessary expenses (such as personnel and maintenance) are driven down with consequences, another reason could be that the profit-driven ethos of the corporation is at odds with the public-oriented mission it is supposed to serve.

I’m not calling for the re-nationalisation of our public transport, but it does raise questions about the promises of privatisation and corporatisation, and forces us to re-think the balance between private management and government regulation.

An even more fundamental reason, perhaps, is the lack of empathy on the part of our leaders and management. It is doubtful that a CEO running a public transport company who drives to work is able to empathise with the concerns of her customers. Come to think of it, it’s symptomatic of the relationship between our technocratic leaders and the people, and reflective of the overall reality of our socio-political system.

But perhaps there is a silver lining to all this. Singapore’s experience now seems to parallel that of Japan’s during the Kobe earthquake in 1995. The earthquake exposed the incompetence of Japan’s political leaders and bureaucrats, just as the train disruptions has exposed the pitfalls of our technocratic culture. Both served as a wake-up call for the countries affected.

The difference between us, and Japan, is whether we move on in the correct direction.

Two years of our time

2011-07-02T21:57:00.003+08:00

Well, I realised it’s been a very, very long time since I posted. Been busy with research, and lacking inspiration for a good post.

But a series of news over the past few days were thought-provoking, not to mention their relevance in my participation in the Military Studies Internship in at the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies…

Over the past few days, there were a series of news reports regarding the Army. One of them, a parallel of the case whereby a maid carried the field pack of a National Serviceman, was about a man carrying the field pack of his son, while the other was the announcement that the Army will be issuing iPads to recruits and trainees.

Personally, I found these incidents rather bewildering, but thinking a little more deeply about it, reveals important questions about the nature of our society, and our military.

The public outcry regarding the father (and earlier, the maid) carrying the NSman’s bag reveals the public’s expectations and impression of soldiers, and the army as a whole. To have someone else carrying their bags is clearly (and naturally) seen as bad for the army’s image.

It’s necessary to elaborate more on why, and how, such incidents dent the military’s image. First, it signifies the failure of the military in its self-professed role of cultivating physically strong and psychologically independent individuals. Second, it reflects badly on the image of the soldier, and by extension, the army, since the soldier is perceived to be spoilt and dependent on his maid or parent.

On the other hand, while society embraces this view of the military, which is perfectly justified, it is arguably at odds with the the view it adopts with regards to the relationship between parents and children. As a friend once remarked to me, this is probably a reflection of a clash of attitudes, between society’s treatment of soldiers in general and parents’ treatment of their children.

Society (and our political leaders) demand that soldiers be tough, while parents want their children to have some comfort.

But it only begs the question: why the double-standard?

I guess it can partly be attributed to the fact that attitudes towards NS is gradually changing. In the past, NS was seen as a rite of passage, the transformation of Singaporeans, as the saying goes, “from boys to men”. Therefore, society expects NSmen to behave like, and carry themselves as expected of mature adults.

Perhaps, the incident itself reflects the situation that there are some (both soldiers and parents) who no longer care about this notion (or NS, for that matter), while the backlash probably signifies the traditionalists reasserting the ideals of NS.

What about iPads for recruits?

I came across an article in Foreign Policy about how the US Army banned the wearing of minimalist Five Finger running shoes. The author reflected the incident as the obsession of the military with appearance over effectiveness, even hinting at it being a sign of decline within the institution.

The situation of the issuing of iPads in the SAF reflects to an extent this situation as well. It’s still unclear how exactly they will help in training, but it certainly didn’t improve the army’s recently battered image with the iPads being the butt of jokes both online and offline.

Though in my opinion, the issue of iPads isn’t even one based on appearance vs. effectiveness, since it doesn’t seem to address either. It doesn’t help in improving the army’s image as having soldiers who are “soft”, and how it affects effectiveness has not been clearly demonstrated either.

While the utilization of technology should be appreciated, especially considering the need for technology as a “force-multiplier” in our small military, we must be able to set the correct priorities when it comes to using technology to improve training and operations.

Would iPads help in lightening the load of the average foot soldier? Would it increase his personal comfort during training and/or operations? Would it maximise his combat effectiveness? It would not do a soldier any good if he has to worry about that on top of fighting his own equipment, as well as the enemy.

On the whole, I guess these incidents reveal much about the nature of the relationship between society and the military, as well as the direction the latter is taking in its transformation into a new generation. And unfortunately, there is much room for skepticism.

The Parliament of Man XV

2011-06-07T14:56:00.003+08:00

After months of planning and preparation, SMUN 2011 ended successfully last week.

Of course, I must take this opportunity to thank all my fellow Secretariat members for their dedication and hard work, and it’s owing to them that the conference was a great success. I’m especially thankful to my Under-Secretary-Generals for assisting me in the planning and preparation for the conference, and I couldn’t have achieved so much without their support.

SMUN 2011 was, for me, significant for one more reason, not just because it was a success organisationally…

…but because it was through SMUN that I found love.

This post is dedicated to the girl with whom I overcame so much and achieved so much.

It was through the experience of SMUN that we both realised how much we appreciate each other, and needed each other.

Thanks for being such a wonderful deputy and assistant.

Thanks for being with me in overcoming all the obstacles and crises we faced throughout the conference.

Thanks for being with me to share my joys and my worries, and for being by my side when I was down, and needed much comforting.

Thanks, Jo. Because I love you.

A Victory for Democracy

2011-05-08T14:31:00.009+08:00

Yesterday was indeed a historic moment for Singapore’s political history.

The opposition has finally made a breakthrough, with the WP winning Aljunied GRC and retaining their stronghold at Hougang SMC this election.

For my friends and I, this was indeed the best-case scenario that we had hoped for. We were all so glad that the WP team’s effort paid off, and here, I congratulate Mr Low’s team for the victory, as well as the residents of Aljunied for their role in making history.

Although Mr Chiam’s team could not win, while the opposition constituency of Potong Pasir was finally lost to the PAP.

But nonetheless, the opposition as a whole made gains, bringing the total percentage of the votes to the PAP down to 60% from the 66% in 2006.

In this post,after the excitement, a time of reflection is in order. Here, I’ll share my views regarding the significance for the results for both the PAP and the opposition, and the direction Singapore politics could and should make in the future.

I. A Maturing Opposition

It’s heartening to see our opposition parties demonstrate their maturity in the general election. The performance of the WP and the SDP has been particularly worthy of note.

A consolidated, disciplined WP, as well as a rejuvenated, moderate SDP, plus the fact that both of them were able to field competent and credible candidates such as Mr Chen Show Mao and Mr Tan Jee Say is a good sign for multi-party politics in Singapore. The days of campaigning also demonstrates that, contrary to the PAP’s claims, that competitive politics in Singapore can be constructive.

Therefore, I would hope to see the opposition continue to consolidate and embark on a mission of self-strengthening, so as to be able to participate effectively and constructively to politics in Singapore. I also hope to see the WP MPs and the NCMPs contribute to parliamentary debates effectively and constructively, and live up to their promise of providing a check on government conduct and policy-making.

II. A Self-Defeating System

But on the other hand, we have also seen the PAP, and in a way, Singapore as a whole suffer a loss. The loss of Aljunied to the WP also meant the loss of two ministers including our Foreign Minister, and the slated Speaker of Parliament (though there is a good chance he can still be Speaker, as Mr Chen explained).

This General Election has exposed a few flaws in our political system, which I will address in more depth as I go along, but in this section, the key flaw I’ll discuss is that of the GRC system.

The Group Representation Constituencies (GRCs), is, as I argued in my previous posts, a system designed to officially ensure minority representation in Parliament, and unofficially to perpetuate PAP dominance. It works on a few assumptions, such as:

1. That the opposition parties will never be able to field enough candidates to contest in these GRCs, especially the ridiculously large 6-member constituencies (where 2 remain as of this GE).

2. That voters will support more credible candidates, hence the PAP further tipping the balance in their favour with the concept of “anchor ministers”, where their political experience and leadership put PAP teams far ahead of opposition teams.

3. That voters will vote along party lines rather than for (or against) individuals.

This election has shattered all three assumptions. The PAP thought the opposition could never produce credible candidates. In this GE, from the opposition emerged Mr Chen, Mr Pritam Singh, Dr Vincent Wejeysingha, Mr Tan Jee Say and more.

The PAP thought that “anchor ministers” could ensure they’ll win the seats. They lost one of their most important ministers, and only won by narrow margins in the rest.

The PAP thought that voters will always vote PAP no matter what, on account of its “track record”, and its reputation. This time, a serious problem with the candidate selection process was exposed, and voters struggle to decide because they don’t want a certain candidate within a team elected, but were forced to vote the team (and therefore them in).

One theory I have with the large quantity of spoilt votes in Marine Parade is that it is a manifestation of the terrible dilemma voters faced.

So, rather than accuse the opposition of putting voters in emotional dilemmas, this GE has revealed that the electoral system of the PAP’s own making has firstly come around to bite them, and two, that the PAP might be seriously complacent and over-confident.

Therefore, the first thing the PM might want to consider following this GE is a serious re-thinking of the merits of the GRC system. The PAP government is very unlikely to abolish the GRC system (though I wish they do), but the experiences of Aljunied and Marine Parade is certain to make them think about their electoral strategies in future.

However, it will be counterproductive for the government to attempt to perpetuate the PAP’s dominance via the old tactics of gerrymandering, etc, since they are bound to increase the sense of frustration amongst the electorate, and demonstrate their insincerity in bringing about fairer politics in the country.

III. The Atrophy of Internal Mechanisms

This campaign has also revealed flaws in the PAP’s own internal systems of management and governance. First, the groundswell of public dissatisfaction and discontent towards the government’s policies of the past five years demonstrate firstly, that the government has become less, if not totally unresponsive, to the opinions and interests of the people. The responses of ministers to public queries, or by MPs on their behalf, is telling of this very serious problem.

The unpopularity of several PAP ministers (many of whom are not expected to be in the new cabinet), and the party as a whole are the result of the public impression that they have become elitist, arrogant and nonchalant.

And this also reveals a new significance in this GE: that the people have also become more politically active. When the government ignores the people, the people will make its reaction felt very strongly whenever the opportunity arises. Therefore, in the GE, the vote has restored its power as the manifestation of public sentiment and popular will.

The second problem with the PAP is the question of reform within the PAP. Mr George Yeo has acknowledged that the PAP needs reform after this GE. However, it’s an open question as to how he, or anyone else in the party, intends to bring about those reforms, and what those reforms will be as well.

But I guess the top priority will be to re-connect the party with the population, to dispel the notion that the PAP has become elitist, arrogant and self-serving, which has soured the relations between the government and the public over the past few years. Even then, if all the party intends to do is to make more extensive use of their existing framework (i.e. the grassroots organisations, etc), it’s questionable how fundamentally the situation can improve, since a major criticism has also been their inability to connect with the younger generation, who feel disenfranchised and excluded from the issues that affect them.

Third, the GE reveals a flaw in the PAP’s “talent policy”. As I argued in a previous post, the PAP has actually narrowed its talent pool to only three sources: the Civil Service, the SAF, and the NTUC. The significance of such a narrow base is that their perspectives are narrowed accordingly, leaving them unable to see things from alternative perspectives. Moreover, they have also become less tolerant of dissenting views. The case of Dr Vivian Balakrishnan’s transformation from constructive critic to blind follower is telling of the degeneration of the PAP’s talent pool, and the hypocrisy of the PAP’s claim of accepting constructive criticism.

IV. The Big Questions

This GE has also signalled the start of a generational shift: the rise of young voters like myself.

Voters of my generation are not as concerned with issues such as upgrading. Entering a post-materialistic political era, the new generation would want to engage in discourse about the broader issues, such as opportunities, and normative issues such as the concepts of justice and equality. While we do not ignore material needs, they are secondary to the bigger questions, and some would also go on to say that to link upgrading with votes is very immature, unfair, and divisive.

Therefore, and in the long-term interests of Singapore, the PAP must move beyond the petty politics of upgrading and pre-election handouts, and engage seriously with the opposition, and the electorate on the key issues, many of which have been discussed with great intensity in this GE: immigration, a growth-centric mindset amongst the leadership, opportunities, etc.

The failure to do so will only perpetuate and intensify the frustration amongst the younger voters towards the PAP, with detrimental consequences in the long term.

No one will be able to ignore the hypocrisy and injustice of PAP MPs having their Meet-the-People sessions in air-conditioned rooms while opposition MPs are reduced to doing so at void decks, and having upgrading programs delayed simply by virtue of being in an opposition ward, despite fulfilling the same national obligations (tax, NS, etc). Not to mention indirectly punishing the residents who had voted for the PAP.

Ultimately, such a policy of forcing voters to “regret and repent” if they vote opposition is vindictive, divisive, and hypocritical. All in all, moving beyond “carrot-and-stick” politics is also good for the PAP in the long run.

V. Lessons on Public Relations

The opposition did well this year because of their victories in public relations. They have won voters over because they have successfully contrasted themselves with the PAP to create the impression of sincerity and genuine concern for Singaporeans.

Their carefully and eloquently delivered speeches (with exceptions, of course) lifted spirits and gave a sense of hope for Singaporeans. More importantly, they recreated a sense of pride and solidarity amongst Singaporeans, something that the PAP did not come close to achieving.

Meanwhile, the PAP has entered one public relations disaster after another. I shall not go into detail, since I have covered them in a previous post, but I’ll simply add that because they have no real experience of campaigning (since for many years they had no need to), while the opposition has to fight with tooth and nail just to narrow the margin, the strong contestation is symbolic of how wide the gap has become with regards to campaigning skills, since the PAP’s already weak skills have deteriorated, while the opposition maximises their own advantage.

But fundamentally, the real PR disaster for the PAP was to appear as elitist and condescending. It could never strike a cord with the electorate when it takes its right to govern for granted, and for insisting that it, and only it can act in the interests of Singapore.

As promised by the PM, the new government will seek to engage with the populace with regards to national issues. How the government intends to achieve that remains unanswered, and whether the government is truly sincere is also open to critique, but I can say for certain that the opposition will see to it that the government will live up to its promise.

To sum up, here are some suggestions for the political future of Singapore:

1. Engage the opposition on a level playing field.

2. Engage the populace seriously and sincerely.

3. Improve on public relations, for image matters as much as substance.

4. Re-think the GRC system, for all the flaws revealed in this GE.

As for the opposition, I sincerely wish they will go from strength to strength, for:

“革命尚未成功，同志仍需努力”

- 孙中山

("The revolution is not yet complete, comrades must continue to work hard")

- Sun Yat-sen

Some Questions

2011-05-05T11:50:00.005+08:00

This post is dedicated to my pro-PAP friends, PAP supporters in general, and people who are undecided at this stage who to vote for.

Before I begin, however, I would like to clarify that this post is not meant to influence the choices of any of the abovementioned groups, and I will forgive them if they do accuse me for my temerity in undermining their support for the ruling party, since I understand it’s not my place to determine whom they should or should not support.

Nevertheless, I have some important questions to ask, as polling day approaches, and after some time thinking about the reasons that my pro-PAP friends have articulated with regards to their continued support for the PAP.

I. A Track Record

I was advised to vote PAP on account of its record. But invariably, “track record” refers to the long period between 1965 and now. I can’t help but feel a strong sense of dissonance every time the phrase is invoked.

I want to ask:

Whether they realise the PAP now is drastically different from the PAP of the 1960s? That the PAP now has a different ethos, and has different priorities?

If they are aware that the Singapore then and the Singapore now are two different entities, with different sets of problems? And whether to have “more of the same” is indeed the real solution to our problems?

How they think Mr Lim Kim San would have felt if he had known that the HDB he headed (and for 3 years without pay, I might add) is now struggling to deliver affordable housing to citizens. And what they think how our first generation of leaders, if they so insist on invoking our track record, would have thought of the performance of the current government.

And ultimately, whether it is fair to imply that the past 5 years are irrelevant as compared to the past 50, as if time had literally stood still for the sake of Singapore.

I don’t deny the achievements of our country over the past 50 years, but when I keep hearing about the “track record”, I am simply reminded of a broader story of success punctuated by mistakes (which, worthy of note, usually coincided with the time of the lack of political opposition in Singapore).

II. For the future of Singapore

I was also advised to vote for the sake of the future, because only the PAP can, as it declares, secure our future together.

But when I hear stories of poor families struggling to make ends meet, when I hear my peers complain about their predicament in their respective campuses, when I hear my seniors lament the difficulty of starting an enterprise, and when I hear my parents saying that they’ll never see their CPF money till the day they die, the thought “something is wrong” invariably emerges.

Of course, one is prompt to explain, “but they are isolated examples”, or bring up cases of people squandering their money and lives irresponsibly, but when you hear tens (or even hundreds) of “isolated examples”, one wonders, how secure my future will be.

Perhaps now, I do not feel the pressure, and probably so for my friends too, since we have comfortable and privileged lives. But I shudder when I think of a future that is a mere extension of the unhappy present, where the problems I described can happen to me, and where these problems are happening to more and more people around me.

Perhaps, one way to think about how to vote is to think of a future where others who are worse off can aspire to improve, and think of what will happen if the tragedies in life were to fall on you.

III. Between the Devil and the Unknown

This was what I was told from a friend in a conversation last night.

Of course, I’ll be condemned for describing the PAP as the devil, so as a disclaimer, I must emphasise these words are not my own.

But it does capture the feelings felt by many, especially those who publicly say they support the opposition, and secretly inside the polling booth put the cross on the PAP’s box. The reason? Better to vote for something I’m familiar with, or more bluntly, the “lesser evil”.

For expedience, or for cowardice, or out of fear I can’t say for sure, but I would just say that “unknowns” are not inherently bad. They invoke skepticism only due to a lack of knowledge and understanding, and time needs to be given to dispel them, and for all you know, they turned out to be angels.

But most importantly:

"On some positions, Cowardice asks the question, "Is it safe?" Expediency asks the question, "Is it politic?" And Vanity comes along and asks the question, "Is it popular?" But Conscience asks the question "Is it right?" And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because Conscience tells him it is right."

- Martin Luther King, Jr

And after all, to vote for “lesser evils” will make a mockery of our democratic system (since it implies no good choice), and prove to those elites that we are that gullible.

Debate, Discrediting, and Disarray

2011-05-04T09:34:00.010+08:00

At this stage, though I might not be entirely correct, it looks like the PAP campaign is seriously in disarray.

Their use of certain analogies have backfired spectacularly on them, such as driving cars and buses (used by the WP against them), a story of colourful mushrooms (not very relevant), and describing a MP as a wife who should be able to cook (somewhat sexist). Meanwhile, the comments of various leaders have contradicted one another, such as the importance of George Yeo (with MM Lee saying it’s “not the end of the world” and SM Goh saying that it’ll “upset the beautiful political balance”).

To make things worse, the use of threats, fear tactics and smear campaigns have alienated a large sector of the population (such as MM Lee’s warning that Aljunied residents will regret voting for WP), and the attempt to discredit Mr Tan Jee Say of the SDP have also backfired, while PAP candidates also have had to retreat from their earlier statements, such as about the housing situation.

Finally, SM Goh is prepared to ditch his embattled peers (such as Wong Kan Seng) in a bid to defend George Yeo’s delicate position in Aljunied.

I thought (with a bittersweet feeling): "what a terrible campaign for the PAP this time round".

In this post, I would like to express my thoughts about these developments. At this point, I’ll like readers to bear in mind that this post is not meant to hit the PAP while it’s down, nor an attempt to further the opposition position. I just want to take the opportunity to reflect on the implications with regards to the issues of public relations, the nature of candidates and leaders and the long term status of political debate in Singapore.

First, what went wrong with the PAP campaign?

Fundamentally, it’s probably because of two main factors, timing, and public relations. The PM called an election at a time of intense public dissatisfaction with the PAP government over several issues, such as housing, living costs, immigration, the use of public funds, security, health, and education, amongst other issues. Therefore, the PAP immediately found itself on the defensive when the campaign started, since the opposition parties had been well stocked with ammunition against the ruling party before the elections even began.

And it didn’t help the PAP at all when throughout their campaign, several developments transpired into serious public relations disasters for the PAP, such as the “threats” mentioned earlier. Even purely at the level of political rhetoric, the PAP found itself behind the opposition, who have demonstrated appeal to the public with their sincerity and well made speeches (with exceptions, of course).

I particularly enjoyed Mr Chen Show Mao’s statement in his speech at the Moulmein-Kallang rally the day before yesterday, when he said:

“The test of our progress as a nation is not whether we add more to those who already have much, but whether we provide enough to those who have less.”

Of course, that’s not to say the PAP has not had good speeches. In a personalised video in his Facebook page, Foreign Minister George Yeo has also demonstrated humility and sincerity, and many of my friends (and myself) truly respect him for that.

But on the other hand, to describe the WP campaign as “using the voters as bargaining chips” and to accuse Mr Low Thia Kiang of “abandoning the residents of Hougang” compels me to make some qualifications, not of Mr Yeo’s character, but of the merits of his arguments.

If the PAP’s objective of capturing as many seats in parliament (perhaps all) as possible is a legitimate objective, then the WP’s objective of capturing as many seats as it can (in order to represent the interests of more Singaporeans) should also be considered legitimate. Following the same logic, if the WP is guilty of “using” the residents, then the PAP is just as guilty.

Meanwhile, to say that Mr Low has abandoned the residents of Hougang is somewhat irresponsible, since he has firstly left a competent candidate (Mr Yaw) in his place, and has also clearly explained his intentions to the residents of Hougang as well.

But I suppose the public relations disaster is nowhere as serious as compared to the debate between SM Goh and Mr Tan Jee Say.

In many ways, and as observed by several others, Mr Tan (together with candidates like Mr Chen) presents the PAP with its worst nightmare: that the opposition could one day produce candidates of unrivalled calibre.

The PAP has long monopolised talent in Singapore, and institutions such as the GRC system has served partly to perpetuate that monopoly, since opposition parties struggle to field enough candidates to contest these GRCs (until now). However, this GE is significant, in my opinion, in presenting the PAP with two ironies which might compel it to re-think some of its strategies.

The first irony is that while the PAP claims to capture a wide talent pool, they actually don’t. As time goes by, the PAP has concentrated their talent pool to a few main sources: the Civil Service, the SAF, and the NTUC, supplemented by a relatively smaller pool from the private sector and government-linked companies, or GLCs. While this seems wide, there are many considerations that this talent policy ignores. For one, it did not consider the wider range of talent outside these abovementioned sources (such as academics). Two, it did not envision the possibility that talent from either one of the three sources can join the opposition (exemplified by Mr Tan). Three, a pool like this means that their perspectives are narrowed to those of these specific groups.

I’m not questioning the validity of the PAP’s talent policy, and in no way do I mean to understate the difficulties faced by the PAP, or any party, in sourcing for talent. I just want to reveal the implications of such a talent pool on the nature of candidates and policy-making in the long-term.

The second irony is that this GE reveals the question whether the GRC system actually serves their interests. The GRC system contributed to the PAP’s dominance on the premise that the opposition could never field enough strong candidates. To further tip the balance in their favour, the PAP used the strategy of “anchor ministers” to consolidate and widen their lead over the opposition. This GE, given the unprecedented ability of the opposition to field strong, credible candidates, has presented a real challenge to the PAP, and could even threaten the position of important ministers (such as Mr Yeo). Which is perhaps why people have started to think about whether it is now wise to “put all their eggs in one basket”, as the expression goes.

Actually, I think the GRC system need not be abolished, since minority representation is still important. What I do hope to see in the future is smaller GRCs (no more than three), since at this stage I guess the GRC system has really deviated too far from its original objective, and has now even presented problems for the party than created it.

Next, what went terribly wrong with the PAP’s battle against Mr Tan is that in their attempt to engage him, (a candidate who, had he joined the PAP, would have his ideas praised rather than dismissed) they ended up damaging themselves, and revealing all their hypocrisies in the process.

I think Mr Tan’s speech at the Holland-Bukit Timah rally on Labour Day is a sufficient elaboration of the reasons why.

Meanwhile, (and on a lighter note), while Mr Tan’s ideas were endorsed by Lord Butler, the Cabinet Secretary for three British PMs (Thatcher, Major, and Blair), the PAP’s responses to him would have been endorsed by Sir Humphrey Appleby, Permanent Secretary to the Ministry of Administrative Affairs, and later, Cabinet Secretary for PM James Hacker (in the British sitcom Yes, Minister).

Since Sir Humphrey would have suggested (as the PAP followed), his strategy for criticising a report:

1. Start by saying it’s against the public interest, that it could be open to misinterpretation

(As the PAP tried, arguing that Mr Tan wanted to destroy the manufacturing sector)

2. Discredit the evidence

(Such as the debate whether manufacturing is a less or more volatile sector)

3. Undermine the recommendations

(Such as the age-old question: “where is the money going to come from, the reserves?”)

4. Finally, to discredit the author

(He wanted to be a Permanent Secretary).

- From Yes, Minister, Season 2 Episode 4, “The Greasy Pole”

I don’t mean to be frivolous by bringing this up, but it looks like by doing this, the PAP ended up emulating the “First World Democracy” that they themselves have condemned.

Finally, some lessons for the PAP campaign next GE: carefully prepared speeches (stop using analogies for a start), think carefully before making comments, pay more attention towards public relations, and finally, lots of humility.

Home is Where the __________ is

2011-05-02T11:53:00.006+08:00

Today, I’ll discuss the General Election from the perspective of the group that is at the crossfire between the ruling and opposition parties, but from whom we’ve not heard a lot of:

The immigrants and new citizens.

What motivated me to write about this post? A few days back an Indian friend of mine (Indian as in by nationality) commented on my Facebook account that he’s disconcerted by the opposition parties’ anti-immigration rhetoric. As someone who sincerely treats Singapore as his new home, he is somewhat disappointed.

I gave him a reply, which I’ll expand in more detail in this post. I would like to emphasise now, that I only seek to provide a balanced opinion on this issue, and I hope that my comments should not be construed as unqualified justifications of either extreme (pro- or anti-immigration). The problem is much more nuanced, and demands careful thought and consideration.

Let’s first examine the arguments raised by both sides, starting with the ruling party. The PAP argues that immigration creates jobs. Well, it’s curious how one can achieve this logical leap, but here’s my interpretation: the government creates jobs with immigration in two ways. One is by importing highly qualified and skilled labour, who will introduce new ideas, skills, products, or enterprises that in turn creates demand for more ideas, skills, and products, therefore raising demand for labour (i.e. jobs).

Two (and this is the opposition counter-argument) is by importing mid- to low-skilled labour to maintain the competitiveness of our industries by keeping labour costs competitive. (The “race to the bottom” as the expression goes).

I’m sure the opposition will have nothing against the first strategy. After all, since they emphasise a controlled immigration, this is precisely what they have in mind, since it’s easier to control a smaller number.

As for the second strategy, what is the problem? The first question one will ask is how it depresses wages. It’s not a deliberate outcome of immigration, but an inadvertent result. Wages fall because local workers have to peg their income level to a lower median, since immigrant labour will reduce the average wage. Meanwhile, the lack of an independent union movement means there is no option of industrial action against such wage decreases, so locals can only simply go along with the policy.

Next, and more importantly, such a policy of mass immigration to artificially support the manufacturing sector is unsustainable. If one sees the connection between seemingly separate issues, then the implications of the policy become apparent. First, by depressing wages, we increase output without increasing productivity. Second, locals earn less, which means they have less set aside for retirement. Next, since they have less for retirement, they will have to work more and longer. Finally, because of their increased age, the job options to them become narrower and narrower, and the wages they can command becomes less and less, trapping them in a vicious cycle.

Like I mentioned in a previous post, we cannot look at issues and policies in isolation. They are all connected with one another.

Which is why Mr Tan Jee Say is perhaps not entirely wrong in saying we need to wean Singapore (very gradually) off manufacturing. Which is why the WP emphasises a controlled policy that will improve the quality of life in Singapore.

But this is the economic perspective on immigration. How about the concerns raised by my friend?

My take is that while some immigrants sincerely treat Singapore as their new home, many also don’t, and therefore the question is really how to have newcomers treasure the privilege of citizenship, and have a sense of identity towards the country. A immigrant community that does not take into account the overall interests of the country is not in the interests of the country as a whole. Meanwhile, it will be good for Singapore as a whole if the immigrant community also think how policies that supposedly serve their interests can also adversely affect them.

Take for example transportation and national infrastructure. A relaxed immigration policy presents opportunities for newcomers, which is certainly good for them, but the strain on public transport and housing will also affect them adversely, since they too will have to fight with the locals for space in our buses, trains, and houses.

In other words, the point should be to balance the interests of both locals and immigrants, since there are issues that affect both of them.

The connections between issues cannot be overemphasised. We want to encourage people with much needed skills and knowledge to help with our development, but an unregulated policy has created strains in the relationship between locals and immigrants, and contrary to our intended aim, we end up making them feel unwelcome.

This is the sentiment my Indian friend expressed, which I think is perfectly valid.

Finally, on the issue of civic values and national identity. Sometimes, I get angry about foreigners who don’t queue up when they board the bus or train, and who don’t give up their seats for the people who need them more. It’s a small point perhaps, but immigration has also to some extent undermined the government’s efforts to build a gracious society. But then again, it’s not a small point, because a strained relationship between locals and immigrants fuels the same animosity that results in the self-defeating result that I have illustrated earlier.

The reason I’ve left that blank in the title is because, this GE has also raised an important but not well-discussed question for the immigrant community: Is home where the heart is, or is it something else…

And perhaps the PAP should self-reflect on the pitfalls of a growth-centric mindset, and consider the broader needs and interests of the electorate.

Some Thoughts

2011-04-30T22:50:00.010+08:00

It’s been two days since campaigning began, and I can sense the mounting politicization in my interactions with friends and acquaintances.

I’ve had exchanges with both my pro-PAP friends, as well as my pro-Opposition friends, and not surprisingly, I have received different opinions. Here, I’ll perhaps talk about some of the more salient issues, as well as my thoughts about them.

I. Who’s got the better ideas?

“It’s the PAP, obviously!” said my pro-PAP friends. “The opposition ideas are simply impracticable, if they have them at all!” They added.

“Other five years of mismanagement, and of ignoring the interests of the people?” protested my pro-Opposition friends. “The PAP’s manifesto had so little content, and they tell us to scrutinise the opposition manifestos?” They add.

So, what do I think, given this two very different interpretations regarding policies? First, I should start by saying that we need to put the opposition in perspective. Perhaps some of the opposition parties indeed do not have concrete policy recommendations, but then again, I’ve read the WP manifesto, and one will be hard-pressed to say that they have nothing to propose.

In fact, the PAP manifesto has been criticised as lacking substantive, especially as compared with that of WP.

Meanwhile, the opposition could also be trying to protect some of their ideas, in case the incumbent takes them up and claims the credit (which has happened before).

As for the policies themselves, I can empathise with the view of my pro-PAP friends that the opposition policies may be populist and does not take into consideration the potential and hidden costs that will incur. Some go further and argue that the opposition policies are fundamentally unsustainable.

Perhaps this is true, and I too find myself asking this question when I look at their recommendations: “where is the money going to come from?”

But on the other hand, some of their recommendations are not totally unworthy of consideration. After all, they reflect the problems that have emerged in the PAP’s policies, and perhaps could still be implemented with some thought, the necessary resources, and compromise?

Not to mention that the PAP’s policies also have potential and hidden costs, some of which have become the cause of the PAP’s unpopularity in this General Election.

Either way, we need to look at their policies fairly, and not be too quick to dismiss them.

Meanwhile, the collective agenda of the opposition of being a check on the government is a realistic one.

Objectively speaking (and the opposition knows too), they cannot replace the PAP and form the government, so naturally they aim for the next best: representation in parliament.

Therefore, we could look at whether or not to vote for the opposition based on how well they serve (or promise to serve) the function of being a check on the government. Perhaps it is unreasonable for us as the electorate to demand the opposition deliver what they clearly can’t as a result of the PAP’s systematic marginalization of the opposition (i.e. the withholding of funds, and relegating them to the end of the queue, and the majority they command in parliament).

And perhaps, all the more we should vote for them, so that in the future we could change this (admittedly) very unfair way of doing things.

II. Voting for Opposition in Protest?

I touched on this issue a little in my last post. The key point of contention is whether doing this is irresponsible, or there is a legitimate reason for doing so.

On whether it’s irresponsible, my pro-PAP friends naturally think so, since we are supposed to, they argue, vote based on the calibre of the candidates, and the quality of suggestions by the respective parties.

But here’s the nuance. First, I absolutely agree, and actually, so do my pro-Opposition friends. It’s ridiculous to vote for opposition candidates who are not prepared and able to deliver, bringing up the example that nobody would have voted for the Tanjong Pagar opposition team had they been able to contest the PAP. They could not even be prepared for a campaign, let alone be prepared to represent their constituents in parliament.

Second, and this brings me to the other side of this issue, that the ballot is a expression of public sentiment. When you vote, you express your support for the party you have voted for. But given the PAP’s dominance in Singapore politics, and that the opposition is unlikely to change this, even when people vote for them, voting for the opposition is a way of protesting against the PAP’s policies. It’s a way of signalling to the PAP government, “I’m not happy with the way you are doing things.”

Whether this is a legitimate reason is an open question, though to complicate things just a little more, there’s the issue of sending the wrong signal.

If voting opposition means either you truly support them, or you are demonstrating your opposition towards the PAP, then voting for the PAP could also mean either you truly support them, or you don’t like the PAP’s policies, but admit that they cannot be replaced by the opposition. Bluntly put, the PAP is the lesser evil.

But the problem with the latter is that the PAP could very well claim that they have the mandate of the people (when maybe they actually don’t), and misinterpret a realistic motivation as endorsement of their policies for the preceding (and subsequent) years.

This is why voting can present a dilemma for many, and that voting responsibly is easier said than done.

But whatever it is, it’s certainly not voting for opposition’s sake. We have to take the realities of Singapore’s political system into account. Though I’d suggest to the PAP government to take public opinion seriously, and not take votes for them for granted, and certainly not as a blank cheque.

III. Voting wisely = voting PAP?

Put differently, voting wisely ≠ voting opposition.

Well, I’m not very sure if voting PAP is always right. They are right most of the time, but that in no way allows us to assume that the opposition are always wrong. For a start, like I said, they also reflect public sentiments and interests, and there is also the question of whether it is wise to assume that the opposition cannot deliver.

Digressing slightly, some interesting observations I’ve made.

First, the PAP talks about looking at their “track record”. No doubt the PAP has a track record, with its key achievement of bringing Singapore from third world to first over the past 40 years.

But I am inclined to ask whether it is realistic to compare Singapore now with Singapore 40 years ago.

Because the disconnection between party and electorate is obvious when the PAP talks about its “40-year track record”, when the people clearly meant 5. Is Singapore better now than 5 years ago? I get different answers, obviously, but either way, it’s a more meaningful comparison.

Besides, if you compare Singapore 40 years ago with now, of course it’s improved!

Second, local vs. global. Perspective has also become a point of debate amongst the candidates. The opposition wants to focus on local issues that affect citizens more directly, such as living costs, while the PAP reminds voters that they should vote for candidates who can see the wider implications, and take a broader perspective on issues (i.e. them).

I certainly agree with the advantages of having a wider perspective, but I am also curious about how such a perspective actually helps. Because, if a MP explains that rising costs is a global problem and not just a local problem, it will not be surprising if the people will simply respond, “but so what?” Or even worse, “is that a reason or an excuse?”

The point is, taking a global perspective is one thing, what the people expect is that the problem is addressed. Part of the current discontent is partly to do with the problem that there is a perception that MPs and Ministers try to explain problems away rather than address them.

On the flip side, while focusing on local issues is realistic from the opposition’s point of view, perhaps taking a broader view can help strengthen their case.

All in all, we cannot support uncritically any one side. We ought to reason objectively the issues and recommendations raised by all sides, and consider the implications of our vote as a whole. Perhaps this is one conclusion I’ve arrived at following the intense debate and discussion especially today.

A Moral Dilemma?

2011-04-29T21:03:00.007+08:00

Yesterday, I posted about the Workers’ Party’s contestation of Aljunied GRC.

This morning, just before my first exam paper for this semester, I had a short conversation with a friend about this development.

My friend commented that the Workers’ Party’s decision to contest in Aljunied presented the electorate with a moral dilemma: between losing a reasonably credible opposition party on one hand, and losing the Foreign Minister (and perhaps more) on the other.

She concluded that Mr George Yeo has been a really good minister (which I agree), and felt it unfair to vote him out for the sake of opposition representation in Singapore.

I agree with what my friend said, though here, I would like to highlight some nuances with regards to the issue. First, perhaps what is playing out in Aljunied is happening to every other (contested) constituency in Singapore, that every voter is confronted with a moral dilemma, though in this case, it is more to do with voting for the PAP on account of it simply being indispensible (in the sense that the opposition, realistically, cannot replace the PAP, at least not yet), and on its track record...

...or to vote for the opposition as a protest against PAP policies over the past few years.

The latter might be perceived as irresponsible, though I would say that the only way the electorate could send a strong message is through the ballot box. When one votes, it’s not always or necessarily for the candidate (or set of candidates), but for the party they represent, and the policies the party stood for.

Of course, such a comparison can also be criticised for being unfair, since the moral dilemma faced by Aljunied residents (such as my uncles and aunts who live there) is much more intense. By isn’t it what is expected of a democracy? That the electorate is expected to exercise their voting rights after very careful thought and consideration?

And besides, while the Workers' Party strategy is highly risky, I don't think it'll be fair to describe it as opportunistic, precisely because of the stakes involved.

My friend then made a remark, to which I fully agree: every election should present voters with a moral dilemma, that of choosing between an option, and an equally viable alternative.

And this election probably reflects that we are moving ever closer to being a mature democracy then we have ever before. And rather than look at moral dilemmas as a bad thing, we should perhaps derive some lessons from it, and take the opportunity to reflect on our responsibilities as the electorate in a democracy.

When the Biggest Risk is Not Taking One

2011-04-28T10:10:00.004+08:00

Here, I’ll express some thoughts on Mr Low Thia Khiang’s decision to lead a WP team in Aljunied.

For a start, no doubt that it is a bold move, an “all-or-nothing” strategy that involves great risk.

But the results of the Aljunied contest, either way, has immense significance for Singapore politics, and the fact that the WP has sent what is widely regarded as their ‘A Team’ is highly significant in itself.

The ability of WP to field a credible team signifies their continuing maturity as an opposition party, and their recognition that they need to achieve a breakthrough by venturing out, rather than be content with the status quo. In other words, I would say that the WP is moving in the correct direction, and the way the team is organised (a team anchored by strong candidates) mirrors closely the PAP’s strategy of “anchor ministers”, and that probably also reflects the fact that they have been deriving valuable lessons from the previous elections, as they themselves have said.

Of course, that doesn’t diminish the high risks of this move. As an ‘all-or-nothing’ strategy, if the WP loses in the Aljunied contest, it could mean that, if they lose in Hougang as well, the WP will lose all its seats in parliament. If they win, however, it’ll be the most important opposition victory ever.

Hypothetically, if the opposition does not win, and the PAP gets a clean sweep, besides the fact that it will be a sad day for Singapore politics (a reinforcement of one-party hegemony, coupled by the fact that the WP Aljunied team will not return to parliament as NCMPs), there is the interesting question of how the PAP will govern in the next five years, if the widespread and intense public sentiment against it is any indication that it will be the most unpopular PAP government elected in our post-independence history.

Will (or dare, I might add) it continue with the policies of the past five years? And even before that, will it dare claim that it has got the “mandate of the people”? They certainly will find that difficult, if not impossible, if their overall percentage of the popular vote slips even lower than that of 2006 (which is bound to happen).

But a more pressing question is how the opposition will serve the role of being a check on the government if it is not represented in parliament. And if WP will not take up the NCMP places, it means that there may not be effective opposition representation in parliament.

On the bright side, if the WP does win in Aljunied, in addition to being a historic moment in Singapore politics (a breakthrough not seen since the 1980s, and surpasses even that), it’ll consolidate the WP even further, and demonstrate the gravity of public discontent against the ruling party.

Whether the opposition candidates can manage a GRC effectively remains an open question, but I suppose comparing WP and PAP candidates on their own terms, the competency of the WP candidates are indeed on par, both in terms of personal qualifications and political experience. Though losing our Foreign Minister in this election will definitely create a major political earthquake. Meanwhile, the PAP government will impose the same structural constraints on WP’s Aljunied, just as they have long done to Hougang and Potong Pasir, which in turn limits the ability of the WP MPs to serve their constituents, as they have promised.

I guess the remarks of the late US president John Kennedy while he presented the NASA’s Distinguished Service Medal to astronaut Alan Shepard in 1961 is a good way to summarise my hopes for the WP’s campaign, and a fitting description if they win:

"I also want to take cognizance of the fact that this flight was made out in the open with all the possibilities of failure, which would have been damaging to our country's prestige. Because great risks were taken in that regard, it seems to me that we have some right to claim that this open society of ours which risked much, gained much."

To be young was very heaven!

2011-04-27T21:53:00.002+08:00

“Blissed was it in that dawn to be alive, but to be young was very heaven!”

- William Wordsworth

This is perhaps the best way I can describe my feelings towards this General Election.

For me, despite being fully aware of the importance of exam revision, couldn’t help but be distracted and excited by all the developments that took place today. It was also a time of intense and fruitful discussion with my friends for the past few days about the social, economic and political issues that are likely to emerge, and will emerge in the few days of campaigning from today, as well as our feelings towards the ruling party’s performance over the past five years and the past five days.

How has the government fared over the past five years? Can the opposition make a breakthrough this time? What can we make of the tactics by the various parties, and the election as a whole?

What will be the significance of the election results, either way? What will it reflect of the nature of contemporary Singapore politics?

This post of mine does not aim to support any political party, though I do foresee that readers might perceive my sympathies with the opposition.

What I merely seek to do is to explore some of the issues that have and might emerge during the next few days, and conclude with my assessment on the status of Singapore politics and the meaning of democracy in Singapore.

Let’s start with one issue: housing.

It’s obvious to one and all that housing prices has become a major source of discontent amongst the electorate in this election. The source of public dissatisfaction, in my opinion, is this:

Housing, specifically public housing, should not (or at least not merely) be perceived as commodities that can be traded around and exploited for profit. Home ownership is, like I’ve articulated in my previous posts, a hallmark of citizenship, since it creates a sense of belonging by giving them a stake in the country. The commodification of housing, and its subjection to the vicissitudes of the market can threaten to price citizens out of home ownership, with detrimental consequences for public sentiment.

Moreover, even if we concede that housing is affordable given the various schemes that the government has instituted, the increased financial burdens, and the deterrent effect amongst young Singaporeans imposes opportunity costs on other priorities and aspirations. And this is where the connection lies:

Given rising costs of housing (as well as other costs), separate but related issues, such as setting up a family, or to maximise opportunities for one’s children will be affected. The significance of this connection is that it could have been short-sighted to regard these issues as isolated, and failing to see the connections between these issues. It perhaps also reveals that looking at issues from a purely economic perspective has created problems that have spilled over into other issues.

To that, I feel that the government in general and the HDB in particular will have to return to the “fundamentals” (as MM Lee put it) of providing genuinely affordable housing for Singaporeans.

Taking the public opinion on housing as an example, it has been revealed that public sentiment is clearly against the ruling party in this General Election. The developments up till Nomination Day has also probably left the PAP with a sense of foreboding regarding the campaign due to begin from tomorrow.

Meanwhile, it’s gratifying to see the opposition put up a strong contest, with all except one constituency contested. Whether the opposition will make a breakthrough remains an open question, but the intensity of public support for them (which I think is sincere given the spontaneity, but also contributed by the alienation towards the PAP) has already demonstrated a lot about the competitiveness of the opposition this time.

Personally, I take great interest (both out of a sense of responsibility as a voting citizen, and out of intellectual curiosity) in this election, and I will, where possible, continue to share my views on issues and developments.

Meanwhile, I suppose readers will have to bear with this admittedly sketchy introduction to what will hopefully become a series of posts (while I juggle with exam preparation and the exams itself).

Leaders in Transition

2011-04-06T09:34:00.002+08:00

Yesterday, I attended the Kent Ridge Ministerial Forum, organised by the NUS Political Association, with several of my friends. It’s the second KRMF that I’ve attended, the first being 2009 when they invited MM Lee to be their speaker.

The theme for the day was Leadership Renewal: The Fourth Generation and Beyond, and the guest speaker being PM Lee himself.

Well, given that we are coming close to a General Election, many questions revolved around the issue of the PAP’s candidates for the upcoming election.

But here, I would like to explore some of the more general issues discussed in this forum, since they are more pertinent to the issue of Singapore’s quality of leadership, and the nature of its political system in the long run.

A Bi-party System for Singapore?

In his address, PM Lee illustrated the difficulty of maintaining good governance in Singapore while having a credible opposition by examining how, if possible at all, Singapore can be a bi-party system.

As I listened to his speech, I could think of two, and only two possible ways by which Singapore can have a viable bi-party system: either the opposition parties merge into a single party or coalition, or the PAP splits into two.

And I was spot on.

Of course, PM Lee raised other possibilities, and then went on to explain why they are not practicable. The worst outcome is to have two parties divided along ethnic or religious lines. Alternatively, the two parties can be divided along social classes. But a division between elitist and populist parties tend to produce unstable democracies, as we have witnessed in Latin America and arguably Thailand (and as I have argued in my Regimes in Transition research paper). Finally, they can be divided along policy lines, but the policy options available to Singapore is very narrow to begin with.

So, one might ask, what’s wrong with the best two options (two “PAPs”, or an opposition coalition)?

I’ll start with having two “PAPs”. PM Lee’s answer was that it’s difficult to find two equally good teams. He raised the example of the posts of Defence and Finance Minister, two very difficult positions to fill. If they were two teams, the argument went, the best two candidates could be split among the two parties, when they should preferably be in the same team. So it’s better to have a united, strong team, rather than a diffusion of talent.

But then again, from a theoretical point of view, it shouldn’t matter. Say you have the same two leaders, one in government as a minister, and the other in opposition as his/her shadow minister. An effective government minister can naturally implement good policies, while a strong shadow minister can provide effective oversight on the conduct and policies of the government.

All in all, the process of policy debate should ensure that only feasible and effective policies are implemented, regardless of whether the talent is in the government or the opposition.

Of course, one may critique this argument by saying that it is too optimistic about the effectiveness of the debating process, and ignores the reality that leaders all too often ignore the advice and critique of their opposition counterparts.

But in the end, there is a question: must parties “monopolise” talent to be effective? While in principle all parties should strive to co-opt as many talented individuals into their ranks as possible, but is it possible to ensure a robust policy debating process while ensuring that the quality of political parties are at a reasonable level of parity?

Well, having said that, it brings me to the second option for a two party system: an opposition coalition.

It is unfortunate that the opposition have failed to coordinate their respective campaigns to avoid three-cornered fights. On one level, it reflects their disunity, which is expected given their divergent interests, but on a deeper level, it also reflects a fundamental problem with the opposition strategy.

By failing to compromise, insisting upon running in “strongholds”, etc, they have given up a long-term strategic objective for short-term aims which may not materialise in any case. By running in a coordinated campaign, the opposition parties might lose in the short-term, being made to contest in relatively unfamiliar areas, but in the long-term they can improve their coordination for subsequent elections, and more significantly, create the impression of a united, credible opposition.

And that would form the basis of an opposition coalition in the future too.

But I think it’s not likely in the short-term, as I can’t help but feel that the current generation of opposition leaders are too short-sighted to see the strategic implications, being more concerned over issues of leadership and policy differences which in any case are not very different from one another.

Either way, a divided opposition will simply work in the PAP’s interest.

An Organic or Controlled Process of Leadership Transition?

Singapore is very peculiar in the sense that we have (with a few other countries) a very systematic and controlled process of leadership renewal. New leaders coexist with their predecessors in the government, where the latter serve an advisory role for the former.

The government is able to achieve that mainly because of its one-party dominant system, and also because the country is so stable. In other countries, the process of leadership transition tend to be more uncertain, either because uncertainty has been deliberately institutionalised (as in liberal democracies) or precisely because of the lack of institutionalisation of the transition process (as in several authoritarian regimes).

Some question the idea of a controlled succession, arguing that it in a way undermines the process whereby leaders emerge organically from the grassroots, and derive their ability and eligibility to lead based on their political experience.

One way to answer this question, and that being the PM’s, is that if such leaders do emerge from the grassroots level, they will be identified. So it’s not that they are completely ignored. In other words, it’s a matter of how they are then incorporated into the overall process of leadership renewal in the country.

But I would think that the question in a way is assuming that there are two outcomes from the two different processes (organic and controlled). The first produces the bona fide politician: good with people, able to command a following, politically savvy and “streetwise”. The second produces the technocrat: identified by the leadership on account of ability and experience in management.

Like my friend told me after the forum, the two types of leader are not mutually exclusive, for one can have the qualities of both, and that that the issue should be to strike a balance between the quality of being able to relate to the common citizen, and having the requisite skills and experience.

The Parliament of Man XIV

2011-03-21T23:07:00.005+08:00

Now that WorldMUN 2011 has come to an end, I now face the daunting task of clearing the huge backlog of work that has accumulated over the past week.

But nonetheless, as I promised in my last post, this post, the 14th in the Parliament of Man Series, is dedicated to the memorable experiences I’ve had at WorldMUN.

The conference was a great success, and from a standpoint of an Assistant Chair, it’s, in addition to the Host Team as a whole, kudos to the Staff Directorate for all the dedication and effort that they have put in our training. The positive comments from the delegates about the ACs would not have been possible without the attention that they have put on us, and the passion that they've had with their work.

And of course, kudos to our Chair, for being such a pleasure to work with, and for being a source of inspiration and leadership for all of us among the Dais Staff.

Above is Team ARF: from left to right, Hunter, our Chair from Harvard, Jaga, myself, Yihui and Liang Ce.

My duty as an AC was to help preside over the debate in the ASEAN Regional Forum, which engaged the topic of cooperation in the South China Sea. It was a challenging topic, further complicated by the territorial disputes among the many states in the region.

Nonetheless, a wide range of issues were discussed, ranging from confidence-building measures, to the renewal and extension of the 2002 Code of Conduct, to the potential and implementation of further economic and strategic cooperation, to the possibility of arbitrating the territorial disputes under the auspices of the ARF.

Of course, there were heated debates, and some unforgettable episodes, such as the extraordinary scene where the delegate of China tore up a working paper that has been introduced, stating that China would not support any working paper that it has not been consulted about.

A tough stance indeed.

But the committee was able to reconcile their differences, and ultimately, in the true spirit of the "ASEAN Way", passed with unanimity a resolution addressing the issue.

All in all, it was a good experience at the ARF, and in WorldMUN in general. These memorable experiences are sure to be with me for a long time.

Looking forward to the next WorldMUN, perhaps, but for now… it’s SMUN 2011 to organise and host this coming June!

A is for Atom

2011-03-19T12:21:00.003+08:00

It’s been such a long time since I’ve posted. Only one post since February, as I was so busy with MUN and studies for even a short post.

But now that WorldMUN is over (a post about which I shall publish shortly), and that I have a short break before returning to school work, I shall express my thoughts about the recent developments in Japan over the past few weeks.

The earthquake and tsunami in Japan was no doubt a major disaster. I offer my sincere condolences to the victims of the disaster, and hope that they stay strong and recover from this calamity.

In WorldMUN we observed a minute of silence for the victims of the disaster, and our conversations have from time to time revolved around the situation in the country, especially the status of the nuclear crisis that is unfolding in Fukushima now…

This post is about the nuclear crisis, and my thoughts about its implications.

I was reminded of an episode in a documentary by Adam Curtis, “A is for Atom” in Pandora’s Box (which inspired the title of this post). That episode was about the history of nuclear power, and how countries, driven by their optimism and euphoria about the potential of nuclear power, built massive nuclear power plants without considering wider issues such as the effectiveness of safety mechanisms.

A is for Atom

The accidents of Three Mile Island, Chernobyl (which was a disaster of epic proportions) and now Fukushima reveal just how delicate this technology really is, and it is not surprising that opponents of nuclear power have reaffirmed their opposition to the further development of nuclear plants around the world.

And of course, it is possible to extend the logic that what happened in Japan can also happen to other nuclear powered, and earthquake prone areas, such as Taiwan.

Despite these accidents and controversies, many countries are determined to either develop or expand their nuclear power capabilities. China and India are such examples, and even Singapore has kept its options open with regards to its own nuclear power plant some time in the future.

The key issue is this: whether the recent incident at Fukushima has cast doubt upon nuclear energy as an alternative to fossil fuels in the context of climate change and the rising demand for energy.

On one hand, the potential for nuclear energy remains, since Fukushima was the result of a natural disaster, and not all countries are as susceptible as Japan to natural calamities of such magnitude. Moreover, we can derive lessons from Japan, as we have from Chernobyl, regarding strengthening safeguards and the regulation of nuclear power in the future.

On the other hand, the fact that the Japanese with their technical expertise and resources could not effectively arrest the problem raises questions about the ability of other countries to do so in the event of a crisis with their own reactors.

In addition, as Adam Curtis had illustrated in “A is for Atom”, the issue of nuclear power is not simply a scientific or engineering problem, but involves questions relating to politics and ethics. The fallout from nuclear accidents can severely affect other countries, and questions of domestic concern, such as health and safety, also cannot be ignored.

In any case, the nuclear crisis has indeed posed an additional challenge to addressing the issues of environment preservation and energy security.

A Conflict of Multiple Dimensions

2011-02-11T11:20:00.002+08:00

Haven’t posted for a long time, as I was terribly busy with readings and assignments. Honestly, I could barely catch up with them.

But I think writing about this post could serve multiple purposes, just as the substantive is of multiple dimensions: sharing my thoughts about the issue, and refreshing the content covered in lecture all at the same time.

Thailand and Cambodia have once again come into conflict over the disputed Preah Vihear temple located at the border between the two countries.

The renewed outbreak of conflict was of astonishing prescience, as in a single day (last Wednesday), I have had two lectures covering the same issue, albeit in different angles.

The first was my Memory, Heritage and History lecture, where we began by studying the interplay between colonialism, nationalism and cultural heritage, using the dispute as a case study. We then looked at the historical background behind the dispute, and engaged the issue of how Thailand and Cambodia laid competing claims over this piece of cultural heritage.

Then I had my Introduction to International Relations lecture, where we covered the issue of international law, again drawing references to the conflict.

What I guess I could take away from Wednesday was that the Preah Vihear dispute is indeed multidimensional in nature. The cause of the conflict can vary depending on one’s perspective.

It could be:

A historical issue, the continuation and manifestation of the historical animosities between Siam/Thailand and Cambodia.

A political issue, as a conflict over territorial boundaries.

A cultural issue, the Cambodians laying claim to an example of their cultural heritage as heirs of the Khmer empire, and the Thais laying claim to their cultural pre-eminence and historical superiority over the Cambodians.

An economic issue, the potential gains from tourism.

A legal issue, over the 1962 International Court of Justice ruling that the temple (and the surrounding territory) belongs to Cambodia, which is disputed by Thailand.

Indeed, a complex problem with many dimensions.

Incense and Insensibility

2011-01-28T10:19:00.004+08:00

I’m been thinking about this issue for some time, before finally composing it into a post, as readers will see below.

And of course, I should clarify that while the title is influenced by Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, what I intend to articulate has (like the posts whose titles I adapt from other titles) nothing to do with the original.

A few days ago, I came across this article about Mr Lee Kuan Yew’s recent comments made in the book Lee Kuan Yew: Hard Truths to Keep Singapore Going about ethnic (he used ‘race’, but I won’t) and religious integration, social development, and politics.

Not surprisingly, his controversial (some would say inflammatory) comments have resulted in a deep sense of alienation and outrage among Singaporeans, Muslim and non-Muslim.

As I followed the story, I also came across a very well-articulated critique of Mr Lee in an article in The Online Citizen, entitled “Lee Kuan Yew’s (non)-legacy” by Alfian Sa’at. It interpreted the issue as Mr Lee’s persistence in pursuing ethnic politics against Malaysia, and concluded by condemning him for his irrelevance in contemporary Singapore.

So much being said by way of introduction, what is my take?

Sa’at’s article was a powerful indictment against Mr Lee, and reflected what many Singaporeans feel but might not say publicly: that he is deeply out of touch with Singapore society.

For me, I see it as the problem of being trapped by certain notions of politics and society, and viewing society as static while the reality is one of constant flux. In other words, he is indeed out of touch with society.

But to begin with, how did he arrive at his conclusions?

It might sound politically incorrect, but his mentality is informed by empirical evidence. He observed the countries around him, and noticed that East Asia (Singapore included) prospered, while Singapore’s neighbours in Southeast Asia did not.

When he tried to identify the reasons, he probably didn’t find it difficult to realise that there were correlations between the political and social features of the East Asian states, and their economic development.

Taking his analysis to its logical conclusion, he adopted the belief that for other societies to prosper, they had to adopt the East Asian (read Chinese) values and practices, and dilute, if not abandon, the ideas that held them back.

The onset of religious fundamentalism only seemed to confirm that view, and the anti-modern, regressive mentalities of the fundamentalists must have deeply appalled him.

As for ethnic and religious integration, he simply reminds me of British politician Enoch Powell in 1968, whom I also wrote about in a previous post, Contradictions. In a line, both were worried about the impact of ethnic differences on social cohesion and stability.

Mr Lee is clearly referring to the situation in Europe, where differences in ethnicity and religion has resulted in tensions.

And he was probably also referring to the same arguments I examined in Contradictions: That integration might be inherently impossible unless they moderate their religion.

Hence the comments in Hard Truths.

Drawing on Sa’at’s arguments, I think that his comments were also reflective of his self-professed pragmatism.

For a pragmatist, it is logical to adopt the ideas, values and policies that bring about prosperity, abandon the ones that don’t, and support the groups that hold and promote those values and policies. So I won’t be surprised if he just can’t understand why his counterparts in the region cannot see that.

Hence the (indirect) attack on Malaysia, as Sa’at argued.

In my opinion, for Mr Lee to make such arguments seems anachronistic and reductionist. First of all, Singaporeans of my generation, of all ethnicities and religions have been socialised to the multiethnic environment that (ironically) he created.

Perhaps the divisions between ethnic and religious groups have been sharper in his time, but well, times change, not to mention he had a role in changing the times.

Second, it’s unfair to reduce to a single reason (not to mention a fundamentally contentious one) the cause of economic and social development. Social and political development are contingent upon a myriad of factors, and on the specific context of the society in question.

In the end, Powell was condemned as a racist after his “Rivers of Blood”. Does Mr Lee want to be condemned as a Chinese chauvinist after his “Hard Truths”?

As for his ideas of social engineering, such as promoting marriage between highly educated Singaporeans (exemplified by the infamous Graduate Mother’s Scheme), I don’t approve of the arguments you’ll see in the online forums, such as the “what about your children” argument, since these arguments are essentially personal attacks that don’t add value, and don’t speak very well of the people who articulate them.

What I would say is this: first, there is nothing inherent about intelligence and success. While I will not deny that good family backgrounds plays a role in the development of a child, it’s clearly not genetics at work. It’s much more to do with upbringing, which is probably something he doesn’t like, because it’s something he cannot control.

And one thing is for certain: the destruction of social mobility. Is it morally right to destroy the aspirations of thousands of children, simply because their parents were not graduates?

It’s rather sad actually, to see a great man reduced to a shadow of his former self. I used to respect him, but now I find him deeply alienating and distant.

But perhaps he’s also expressing, in a different way, that unfortunately Singaporeans don’t agree with, the same anxieties as many Singaporeans: that society is changing beyond his recognition, and that the ideal Singapore society is becoming ever more distant.

Most ironically, in his attempt to invoke his vision of the ideal, and to encourage Singaporeans to strive towards achieving it, he has only exposed how diametrically different and unacceptable that vision is for the same Singaporeans he cultivated based on that vision.

The Parliament of Man XIII

2011-01-24T08:50:00.003+08:00

I realised it’s been a long, long time since I’ve written a post in the Parliament of Man series.

But come to think of it, now that I decide to, it’s already the 13th post! If anything, it does show that my MUN experience has indeed come a long way, though I am quick to add that it’s not comparable to many of my friends, who have far more experience than I do.

Last week was the first of a series of practice debate sessions for the WorldMUN Assistant Chairs.

The topic was Gay Rights (at the Human Rights Council), and, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, I represented the progressive, pro-gay rights state of France in my own session last Monday, and, speaking on behalf of a friend in a subsequent session on Saturday, the more ambiguous United States.

The diplomatic campaign of the progressive states such as myself and the Netherlands immediately went into a storm of criticism from the conservative states, such as Saudi Arabia and the other Islamic states, but also the Catholic states.

But what was interesting was not the mutual opposition (that was expected, since the issue was naturally contentious), but how the arguments articulated by both sides revealed a fundamental difference in how states approached the issue.

The progressive states called for the right of homosexuals to be protected from violence, harassment and abuse, which was, from their perspective, a relatively modest aim.

The conservative states, by contrast, emphasised (not surprisingly) the notion of sovereignty and the need to respect their religious values.

At this point, I’m reminded of my time in JC when we have debates that don’t clash, simply because both sides were arguing at different, irreconcilable levels.

In response, the progressive states attempted to separate the issue of ethics from religion, and the issue of human (and by extension, gay) rights from sovereignty, an approach that was reflective of western philosophy.

That was ultimately in vain, since the conservative states simply re-emphasised the importance of their religious values in defining morality.

Another point of contention was at the crux of the campaign of the progressive states: legal rights.

The conservative states accepted the notion of fairness in the legal treatment of all citizens (gays included), but re-asserting the notion of sovereignty, they argued that the legal status and treatment of homosexuals remain under the purview of the respective states’ domestic laws.

For the progressive states (specifically me), that was hardly satisfactory. To recognise the need for legal fairness is one thing, but to deal with non-institutionalised persecution without addressing institutionalised persecution is an ultimately self-defeating approach.

I mean, does that mean homosexuals will still be tried, except under “fairer conditions”?

Though I must say that I had probably been too unrealistic when it came to this issue, since it was obvious that one cannot get around the problem of state sovereignty and non-interference in domestic affairs.

Overall, the debate on gay rights reveals several key differences between the progressive and conservative states:

First, the nature of human rights. Universal and unconditional, or specific and conditional?

Second, the nature of ethics. Independent of religion, or defined by it?

Well, the substantive issues aside, it was quite fun, though it also demonstrates how rusty I’ve become after such a long time since my last MUN Conference. Nonetheless, I’ve two more debates with which to catch up, and the more exciting Chair training sessions that will follow.

A Bit of My Childhood

2011-01-15T16:34:00.003+08:00

A few days ago, a good friend of mine sent me this article from the Wall Street Journal, Why Chinese Mothers are Superior.

Apparently, the same article reappeared in today’s Straits Times.

The possible “hidden meanings” behind the re-publication aside, my friend felt that such a style of parenting by the author, Amy Chua (a law professor whose book, Day of Empire I’ve read a few years back), was inappropriate, for it paid no regard to the children’s interests and wishes.

Well, in a way that’s true. But reading the article in greater depth, I saw many similarities in the way my parents raised me, and hence, a bit of my own childhood (and early youth) at play.

Of course, the similarities are not exact. My parents still let me go for outings, chose my own CCA, and my own hobbies.

But it’s the attitude towards my academic performance that was strikingly similar. I remembered the time in my secondary school when I did badly for my exams, and I was verbally tortured so badly, banned from TV (I guess that’s the turning point: since then I only watch TV during dinner).

It’s the same attitude that Amy Chua brought up in the article as well: In their eyes, I’m expected to perform well. They wish I will, they assume I will.

Being too demanding? Setting expectations too high?

The thing is, like I discussed in the last post, memories can change over time. In retrospect, I think my parents did the right thing, to set and enforce standards, to inculcate self-discipline.

Of course, I can also remember I didn’t think that way back then. I resented the harsh treatment by my parents, and I resented even more what I felt was the “unreasonable” standards set by my teachers in secondary school (especially my Chinese teacher, who said only 75% can be considered a pass, and I’ll have to sit for a retest if I don’t achieve that, and I’ll need 80% to pass the retest, come to think of it, truly unreasonable).

But overall, resentment is no longer the first thing that comes to mind, perhaps because these experiences are also recollected from a viewpoint of a university student. If I’ve not made it to university, I think my recollection of all these will definitely have only been more resentment.

So much being said, one might conclude that I’m sympathetic to Amy Chua’s point of view.

Well, I do not think I can answer the question “is she right?” with due objectivity, and neither can anyone else.

From the standpoint of a person who has undergone strict parental upbringing, and can be said to have gained from that experience, I can sort of agree with her that strict parenting does work.

But from the same standpoint, I can’t help but feel that surely there’s a better way to raise bright and promising kids without putting them through all that! Not to mention that if I had kids, I don’t want to put them through my experience, even though it has proven to work for me.

From a different standpoint, such a style is flawed in some ways. Like my friend mentioned, what about the child’s personal choice? No thought about what if the child simply isn’t good at it? What about the opportunity cost: that the child could have been much better doing something else than what you have forced the child to do?

Again, it’s hard to say (which is why such debates are forever ongoing).

Purely as an example, how could one know that the child could have been a better actor than a violinist, if the child was never exposed to the former? Not to mention in a society like Singapore, both options are frowned upon by the more “traditional” parents (violin training was treated more like a demonstration of affluence and parental “foresight” than a skill with viable occupational potential and a display of artistic talent)

And some parents would even naively insist: better a bad violin player than an actor.

And of course, how can I forget, the obsession of some parents with setting up “dynasties”: a family of doctors, or lawyers, or scientists… you get the idea.

Another issue is that of self-esteem. The article maintains that western parents are very concerned about protecting their children’s self-esteem. The article then implies that by doing so, some of them inadvertently tolerate mediocrity, as they set benchmarks too low, or they put the blame on reasons other than their children.

What happened when I was a child?

Quite similar too. If I do badly for some subject, my parents would assume I wasn’t putting enough effort, rather than the subject or the teacher or anything else.

But I don’t remember anything about my self-esteem being hurt. Well, that’s because I was never told I was “stupid” or whatever.

So I guess the article was trying to say that it is possible to be strict and demanding without having to worry about the self-esteem of the child. Is that possible? The article implies it could, though really, parenting is a skill I’m not qualified to comment about.

My friend and I drew different conclusions from the article, which perhaps also reflected our different perspectives on parenting, and more significantly, our different childhoods, or more accurately, our different recollections of them.

Between the Past and the Present II

2011-01-12T21:18:00.004+08:00

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted. Well, partly due to a lack of inspiration, and partly due to being terribly busy with a series of commitments.

Today is the first day of lessons for me, and judging by it, I foresee a very challenging semester ahead, even though I’ve only taken five modules this time. I had my first lecture for the module Memory, Heritage and History, and it was a truly mind-blowing experience.

The first lecture on “Memory” reveals a series of very interesting conceptual questions, which I shall attempt to wade through in this post, though I must add that this discussion is an incomplete and subjective take on what is ultimately a very complex concept.

In addition, this post is a reflection of what was discussed in the lecture, and I would need to catch up with my readings in order to more comprehensively understand the substantive of the lecture.

First of all, what is memory (in the context of the module, which is a History, and not a Psychology or Cognitive Science module)? What is the nature of memory?

As a working definition, Memory is the faculty of the mind responsible for the act of remembering, and there are two main types. The first type is social or collective memory, which is memory experienced by groups at the collective level. The second is individual memory, which is in turn divided into two subtypes, personal (derived from personal experience) and cognitive (acquired through learning, transmission or habit).

Memory as a whole is retrospective, in other words, only a reflective act on the past from the present. More importantly, memories are not static, they can change. How the past is remembered can change over time.

This in turn explains the phenomena of nostalgia, an attachment to an idealised version of the past, and amnesia, when an individual or even a group of individuals (collective amnesia) intentionally or unintentionally forgets about the past.

Significantly, there is a difference between personal memory and collective memory, the former being unique among individuals, and the latter being common.

This leads us to the first conceptual question:

“If personal memory is a mental function that distinguishes us from others, since each individual has a unique set of memories that constitute that person’s identity, and that memories can be different even under the same experience, how is a collective memory possible?”

Well, perhaps part of the answer is that creating collective memory involves displacing individual memory with itself. Individual memories can change, in this case fade away, when they are no longer transmitted or recorded. In other words, individual memories can be silenced.

In addition, collective memories can be reinforced, through institutions and discourse, which is what museums (arguably) and national narratives do.

But given the presence of resistance, passive and active, against the enforcement of collective memories (dictated by institutions such as the state), it’s obvious that individual memories cannot be so easily wiped out.

The second conceptual issue deals with the concept of “sites of memory.”

Sites of memory refer to the physical spaces that invoke memories, both individual and collective. It can be a building, a place, et cetera.

It is interesting and lamentable at the same time that memory in Singapore is actually a contested concept. Due to modernisation and urbanisation, many of these sites of memory (important landmarks or places of personal or collective significance) are actually destroyed or displaced by the state.

But at the same time, some of these sites are also reconstructed and institutionalised, in the context of Singapore, often for economic reasons. One simply needs to look at the ethnic centres of Singapore like Chinatown to observe the reconstitution (and caricaturing, some would add) of collective memory.

I guess this could be the main reason why we don’t seem to have a past, or that our memory of the past seems narrow and limited.

But of course, since individual memories persist, the tension between the “state-sanctioned collective memory” and personal memories is bound to continue.

The third conceptual issue concerns the relationship between memory as previously discussed, and History (as a discipline).

It was brought up in lecture that history is the enemy of memory. That’s due to the intrinsic differences between the two, which lead to destructive consequences.

Memory is subjective, plural, divisive, and anarchic.

History is objective (ok, at least it claims to be, in the aftermath of postmodernism), is based on empirical evidence, and unified.

History destroys memory by displacing the latter with itself.

Well, for me, to an extent true, but sometimes it doesn’t destroy per se, but rather modifies memory. It can be, and has been argued, that History is essentially the cognitive memory of one person’s (the historian’s) interpretation of a group’s collective memory. So while it has the potential to erase personal memories, it also replaces it with new notions of memory.

Last but not least, the really big question:

“Why are memories, and the act of collecting memories so important?”

I think a partial answer might be that when the people who hold these memories are no longer around, these memories might be lost with them. Memories are significant when they are a source of empathy when invoked.

We derive lessons from history partly because we can empathise with the experiences (memories) of the people who invoke them, and avoid or promote actions that create the same experiences. With the loss of these memories, we may lose this ability.

Admittedly, this is a very practical way of looking at the value of memory. But what about academically?

Perhaps it’s partly to do with the need for objectivity. If these memories are lost, then alternative evidence of the past (the voices of the previously voiceless) may also be lost. This would at least, lead to the over-representation of a narrow perspective, and at worst, be a severe handicap to our interpretation of the past.

Well, that sums up the beginning of what will be a very challenging module intellectually speaking. But I guess I’m ready for it.

A New Year

2011-01-01T10:42:00.003+08:00

This is the first post of 2011, and naturally, I’ll take this opportunity to wish everyone reading this a happy new year.

2010 has been a very fruitful year for me, with immense satisfaction both with my studies and with my activities with PSSOC:

Key events of 2010:

Feb: 11th London International Model United Nations

May-Jun: 7th Singapore Model United Nations

Aug: 2nd Global Model United Nations, elected MUN Director of PSSOC 42nd Exco

Sep-Oct: World Model United Nations 2011 Assistant Chair training

Dec: First General Meeting, 8th Singapore Model United Nations

I wonder what’s in store for 2011. Definitely equally exciting.

Personally, like I said in the previous new year post, I don’t believe in setting new year resolutions, but nonetheless, it’s still good to be aware of the challenges for the year ahead, and set some broad goals.

Academically, the next semester will be challenging in its own right, even though I’ve only taken the normal workload this time round,

So far, I’ve secured the following modules:

HY3226 Memory, Heritage and History
HY3209 Cold War in Europe, 1945 - 1991
PS2237 Introduction to International Relations
PS3264 Regimes in Transition (A terribly expensive module. Hope it’s worth the points)

What I guess I should do is certainly to maintain the momentum built up over the previous semesters. Juggling studies with PSSOC will be challenging, but I guess it’ll be nowhere as tough as doing the same while taking 6 modules, a lesson derived from the last semester.

Meanwhile, what about my personal life?

The most important lesson I’ve learnt about interpersonal relations from 2010 is how much impression matters. It’s not simply what you are (or not) that affects how people perceive and relate to you, but what they think (or assume) you are, even if you are not.

I guess some of the regrettable experiences in the last semester has brought about some reflection on my part on how people perceived me, and how I should relate to them in future.

Nonetheless, I’m also grateful to my friends for their understanding, and for accepting me as who I am, and for encouraging me to be myself.

And, as of 2011, still single. Don’t know if that matters. Perhaps it does, but it’s not a question that can be dealt with in a mere post. (:

Relief and Reflection

2010-12-21T09:33:00.002+08:00

Finally, the exam results for the last semester is out, and I can finally relax.

WK’s Results for AY2010-2011 Semester 1:

HY3204 Southeast Asia: Decolonization and After	A
HY3248 People’s Republic of China	A-
PS2233 Political Ideologies	A-
PS2240 Introduction to Public Administration	A
PS2250 International Politics of Southeast Asia	A
SSA2207 Politics in Southeast Asia	A

CAP: 4.75

On reflection, I’m really glad I did fine this time round, considering that I’ve been taking an extra workload, along with my commitments with PSSOC. But I suppose this would be the first, and the last time I’ll be taking six modules in a semester, especially the next semester, when I’ll be extremely busy, as well as the majority of my modules being higher level modules.

With my exam results, which I must say has been very satisfactory, I can conclude that this semester has ended on a very positive note. Along with the very engaging modules dealing with interesting topics, I’ve also enjoyed myself at GMUN, and the preparations for WorldMUN 2011 thus far.

The next semester will certainly be more challenging, and I hope I have the ability to cope with the challenges as they come along.

But I’m sure I can do it, with the support of my friends, whose help they rendered has benefited me as much as I hope mine has for them.

Give me liberty or give me wealth

2010-12-17T14:31:00.003+08:00

It’s been a really long time since I last posted… for today, something mildly political.

“Give me liberty or give me death!”

Patrick Henry said famously in 1775. The line has ever since epitomised the desire for political freedom.

However, as the title suggests, the political developments of our times seem to reflect a subtle, but profound change in Henry’s famous quote.

I went to Kinokuniya yesterday, and I came across this book in the Political Science section:

Freedom for Sale by John Kampfner.

I didn’t buy the book (nor did I buy any other), but browsing quickly through the book (which included a chapter on Singapore) led me to think about the question raised by the author:

Why have so many people around the world traded off their political freedom for security and wealth?

There are several possible reasons: disillusionment with liberal democracy (Russia), presence of an alternative politico-economic model (China), or the contentment with the status quo (Singapore).

But I guess there is an interesting question behind this issue:

Would we tolerate a lower level of economic development for political freedom?

Of course, one can rebut that the relationship between economic development and political freedom is not zero-sum, and I don’t disagree with that.

The point that I am trying to make is that some of our leaders (such as you-know-who) make the assumption that there is indeed a zero-sum relationship between the two.

It might be true in the 1960s to the 1980s, when there was a need for a strong state to mobilise national resources for growth, and to resist the forces that threaten to undermine such growth.

However, I think, given the change in mindsets over time, there must come a point when such an assumption will be questioned, if not rendered irrelevant altogether.

In other words, it’s one thing to learn from history (the historical fact that our economic growth had been the result of an admittedly authoritarian system), quite another to be entrapped by it (entrapped by the notion that only an authoritarian system can sustain growth).

More importantly, the statement “give me liberty, or give me wealth” also reveals some crucial questions:

Who’s the one giving? Who are the ones receiving?

In the context of Asia, it seems to be the state that’s doing the giving.

While it’s not wrong in itself, when we look at it from the perspective that the state has a self-professed paternalistic duty to provide for the well-being of its citizens, wealth is not something that is conferred as a substitute to liberty, because the state has no intention to confer liberty in the first place. It’s just that the argument has been framed in this way.

Meanwhile, from a historical perspective, liberty is not something that is conferred by a higher authority, but something that is gained by the people by their social, political and economic empowerment.

Next, who receives the wealth? We all know that wealth is unevenly distributed, but the way in which wealth is distributed can also matter politically. Wealth is given to (or gained by) those who matter, and their willingness to make the exchange depoliticises and co-opts them into acceptance of the status quo, until such time as this “contract” is broken by the failure of the state to maintain economic development.

This explains why the middle class (the source of optimism on the part of many scholars and analysts) can paradoxically support and resist democratisation.

So, liberty or wealth? Tough choice, if you assume they are incompatible.

What am I Defending, Part II

2010-11-26T10:15:00.009+08:00

A short break from the exams (4 out of 6 papers cleared), so I decided to spend a little time on a post.

I was (very surprisingly) invited to the Channel NewsAsia talkshow Blogtv.sg last Tuesday:

The topic? What are we defending, of course!

With me were Zirui himself (third from left), the hero of the day, who started the whole discussion with the now famous “I don’t know what I’m defending anymore” statement, Ryuju (second from left), who suffered the injustice of being stateless (yes, stateless) despite serving National Service, and Elvis (far left), a Hong Kong-born PR, to provide some perspectives from the newcomers’ side.

It was a bit sad that we had the misfortune of Kim Jung-Il stealing our airtime with his artillery barrage, but overall it was quite fun.

I thought it’ll be a good idea to first talk about what we discussed in the show, and perhaps elaborate a little further on the issues pertaining to the topic itself.

Who/what are we defending?

I think all four of us have a consensus in our definition of what, or who we are defending. We are all trying to defend our homes, our loved ones, and our friends.

But I guess the points of divergence is that on one hand, the born-and-bred Singaporeans (like Zirui and I) were also trying to fight for something, for Zirui, the desire for the equality of opportunity to compensate for the sacrifices of our NSmen, as well as a sincere recognition from the government of the impact of immigration on national identity and belonging.

For me, I wanted to fight for a series of civic values that all of us could identify with, so that Singapore could become a more liveable and gracious city, in order to mitigate the alienation and individualization of our society as caused by the issue.

On the other hand, some of the foreigners have a different conception of what they are trying to defend, and their definitions are not ones that are readily accepted by the born-and-bred Singaporeans.

It’s this different conception of what we are defending, (a broad definition vs. a narrow/materialistic definition) that has led to a sense of purposelessness and division that is at the heart of the current resentment against immigration.

Defending the country = National Service?

This was an issue that was explored during the show as well. Must one serve in the armed forces to be considered to be defending the country?

On one level, it is true that one has to serve in the armed forces to be defending the country. After all, the economic growth and security of the country has to be seen as the result of the presence of a deterrence as provided by our military, and the efforts of our police and civil defence force in providing domestic security.

If our NSmen had not made the sacrifice of their time and opportunity to serve in these institutions, the safety and prosperity of our country that we take for granted would not have existed.

On the other hand, it is unrealistic to force foreigners to serve National Service. But that only begs the question, what else can they do? Can foreigners serve in the defence of the country without serving NS?

It is possible, if we discuss the issue on a different level, firstly by stretching the definition of defence (which also reminds me of my Political Science exam). NS pertains to the defence of traditional security, i.e., conventional external threats such as a foreign aggressor. It also covers internal conventional security threats (such as crime, and urban crises).

If we stretch the definition of security to human security, i.e., issues pertaining to human well-being, then foreigners can play a huge part. We suggested in the show that foreigners can and should take part in volunteer work and community service, firstly to contribute to society in their own way, but also to empathise and help the needy in our society (which sadly, many don’t).

However, there is still a final issue, which unfortunately we couldn’t quite cover in the show (if only we had a full hour).

The Opportunity Cost

The reasons for the resentment against immigration is three-fold.

First, the free-rider problem. The argument goes that foreigners enjoy the benefits of security and safety in the country without directly contributing to it. Of course, one might argue that foreigners support defence by paying tax, but that’s beside the point. The issue is about being directly involved in the process.

Second, job discrimination. NS is not simply a 2-year affair, but involves a long cycle of annual fitness tests, in-camp training, and call-ups. The costs incurred to employers as a result of the diminished productivity (in their opinion) prompts them to prefer workers who are not encumbered by such obligations, such as foreigners, who are usually also cheaper.

Third, the opportunity cost. As a result of NS, Singaporean males fall behind by 2 years in either their education or their career. NS therefore imposes an opportunity cost on locals, in the sense that the 2 years that have been sacrificed could have been used to give them a head-start.

Returning to the idea of foreigners contributing to society in their own way, it is certainly good that they play their part in making Singapore a better place for all, and helping the needy and less fortunate in our society. But will such participation mitigate the issue of the lost time incurred on locals, and as it were, allow foreigners to compensate for the free-rider problem? After all, community service doesn’t have to be carried out full-time.

So perhaps NS should not be full-time too? That’s something to think about!

But one thing is for certain, letting foreigners take part in community service can help integrate them to Singapore society, and alleviate much of the resentment caused by the impression amongst some locals that they have very self-centred and materialistic expectations of Singapore and that they are free-riding on the sacrifices of other Singaporeans.

Next, on the $9000 that the government is paying to NSmen to reward them for their efforts. Well, I’m thankful, but I also have two issues. First, since the money is going into our CPF accounts, the prospect of the money being utilised is questionable. It’s little wonder why people are so skeptical about the scheme. I see it as a symbolic gesture.

Second, it is important to note that the opportunity cost incurred on Singaporeans due to NS is not so easily quantifiable. I think this reflects a fundamental misconception on the part of our government’s attitude towards problems: that every issue can be quantified and monetised, and therefore solved by providing monetary compensation.

For some, the money does perhaps make up for the lost time and opportunities. But for most, the process of calculating the tangible losses is fundamentally a subjective one. If one quantifies the intangible losses based on what he could and could have achieved, the losses would far outweigh the compensation given by the government.

Therefore, the government should not attempt to solve the problem by simply throwing cash at it, but to recognise the non-material and ideational dimension of the issue. I would suggest taking firstly a tougher stance against job discrimination based on citizenship.

Come to think of it, it’s a bit ironic that we have started to take up the agenda of the second-wave feminist movement: occupational equality.

The only difference is that feminists argue women are entitled to equal occupational rights despite their obligations as wives and/or mothers, while we argue that Singaporean males are entitled to equal occupational rights despite our obligations as NSmen.

Some Afterthoughts

Well, 30 minutes was way too short for meaningful discussion, so we also recorded short clips whereby we made some further elaborations.

I talked about the disconnect between the government and us in terms of our vision for the future. On one hand, the government wants to transform Singapore into a “global city”, while we as citizens simply desire a secure and comfortable life. The government’s policies, however, has ironically contributed to an increased sense of insecurity and discomfort, and this is the key reason behind the alienation, resentment and confusion on the part of the citizenry.

Some have argued that the government has lost its way. It’s only concerned about its own agenda, and care little about the feelings of the people. Some also argue that the government no longer takes the concerns of citizens seriously, that it always tries to explain problems away rather than confront them.

To be fair, explaining the situation to the people is an important and legitimate function of government. It’s just that one can’t help but feel that the government sees the process of explanation, like economic growth, as an end in itself.

When citizens asked whether the government has pursued a “growth at all costs” policy, the government says growth is a means to an end. But to what end, when we see increased inequalities in society, and the worsening plight of our poor?

When citizens asked questions about the purpose of the Youth Olympic Games, the government explains that it’s to “put Singapore on the world map”, and to market Singapore and put it on the “radar screens of investors”. But what about spending the money on social assistance instead? And why has sport become nothing more than a marketing strategy?

One theory that I had about why there were no repercussions after the YOG “debacle” was that the government gauged its success not by the degree of public support, but by whether or not international opinion had a positive impression on how well the event was run.

A well-managed event reflects a well-managed country, which equals a good place to invest.

Although the problems pertaining to volunteers also reflected problems with management, I think the government has dichotomised the problems of volunteers, and those of the foreign delegations, and prioritised the latter.

Which in turn exposed the outrageous treatment of the organisers towards the volunteers during the event, and reflects badly upon the attitude of the government towards locals.

I think these statements (that the government has become aloof and nonchalant), while radical, reflects sentiments amongst the public that has to be addressed. These sentiments have a direct bearing on this question:

“What are we defending?”

What am I Defending?

2010-11-11T10:12:00.007+08:00

Today, I commemorate the second anniversary of my ORD, the end of my full-time National Service. Coincidentally, it’s also the day the First World War ended.

At this point, I started thinking about the recent articles that appeared on the press, such as the one in Lianhe Zaobao I commented on in A Tale of Two Cities.

In other words, I started asking myself:

“Do I know what I’m defending?”

But before I address that question, another article to critique.

Yesterday, there was an article on Zaobao, with the unambiguous title of I Know what I’m Defending Too. If you considered the first article bad, that article was even worse then the one it followed.

The author (a Taiwanese by Shandong descent, which she went at length to elaborate) began by describing her life story, her family moving around several cities in search of the perfect place to live, before finally settling in Singapore. She then described her educational life in Singapore, and, with some degree of self-indulgence, talked about how she was a hardworking student (with examples like being the first in school and the last out), and how she topped the class to make it to a good secondary school. She also compared Singapore with other countries, such as lamenting the political gridlock and chaos in Taiwan, and the advantages of the Singapore education system relative to that of the US.

Finally, the punchline.

“我是为何而战？因为目标已经很明确，是为自己、为家人、为自己生存的这块土地。至于新、旧移民问题？谁管呀！

“What am I defending? The aim is clear, for myself, my family, for the land on which I live. As for the issue of new and old immigrants, who cares!”

Well, looks like my comments in A Tale of Two Cities got proven right again.

Of course, it’s not entirely fair to judge a person by one article, which does not fully reflect the true feelings and thoughts of the person, and doesn’t represent the views of all non-locals. And of course, it’s important to bear in mind that there are locals who think like that too.

But, I think there’s one issue as revealed by the article that we have to think about as part of the process of becoming a global city: what are our values?

I think its unrealistic and impractical in this day and age to be conflating “nationalistic sentiment” with values. Not to mention the concept of a Singapore “nation” is tenuous at best and non-existent at worst.

However, it is perfectly reasonable to talk about whether we have the civic values, and if not, the ones we need to cultivate, in order to make us a viable, liveable city.

When we think about our reasons for ‘defending Singapore’, we have to be clear about what we are trying to defend. As I mentioned in A Tale of Two Cities, there are two different notions of identity within Singapore society.

What is significant about the difference is that they directly affect how they perceive themselves to be defending Singapore.

As exemplified by the articles I’ve criticising in that post and this one, some in our society have adopted a narrow, materialistic, and some might say, self-centred definition of ‘defence’, that they see the current opportunities presented to them and the comfort of living in Singapore as worthy of defending.

But they tend to forget that these opportunities are not exclusive to them, and the comfort of living in Singapore also has to be seen as the by-product of the effort, and you can also say, sacrifices of our forebears, as well as other members of society.

Could they have enjoyed the comfort of living in Singapore, if not for the effort of our forebears in propelling the industrialization and development that brought us to where we are now?

Could they have enjoyed the safety and security of Singapore, a country in the midst of a troubled region, if not for the sacrifices of our National Servicemen?

Of course, it’s unrealistic to force all newcomers to serve National Service regardless of age and gender. But I think many of the responses in the press reflect a profound lack of understanding of how the opportunities and comfort they enjoyed came about.

They have a legitimate justification for what they say, in the sense that what they defend is what all Singaporeans are defending. The equality of opportunity, the pleasures of living in a relatively safe and comfortable city with a efficient and productive government.

But they seem to betray a lack of clarity in how they actually intend to defend these values. It’s revealing that the articles describe at length all the benefits in Singapore that we all share, but when it comes to answering the question “how are you defending what you are defending,” there is an ambiguity that you are less likely to hear from a born-and-bred (especially if male) Singaporean, unless, of course, one is no longer sure, or is skeptical to begin with.

True that many have contributed to the economy, which as you can tell from all my posts, I don’t deny and discredit. I’m just pointing out an observation that I’ve made from reading these articles.

So, what are the civic values that I call for?

It’s perhaps at this stage still incoherent, but to be a true global city, it’s not wealth, nor size, but the presence of certain qualities that render it distinct and attractive. An article in the New York Times by the late Tony Judt, “My Endless New York”, could perhaps better explain at length and with clarity what I mean.

So, what am I defending?

I’m defending my family, my fellow citizens, our way of life, the equality of opportunity in life, and the benefits and comfort of living in the city we all share.

But I’m also trying to fight for one thing: the future.

Article cited:

仲珩, 《我也知为何而战》, 联合早报，2010年11月10日。

Zhong Heng, “Wo Ye Zhi Wei He Er Zhan (I Know What I’m Defending Too)”, Lianhe Zaobao, 10 November, 2010.

The Clash of Materialisms

2010-11-08T10:20:00.005+08:00

Well, I admit I’m not good with titles, and I humbly attribute my title to first, Samuel Huntington’s The Clash of Civilizations and Tariq Ali’s The Clash of Fundamentalisms.

Today’s post is again inspired by a Lianhe Zaobao article, this time a commentary.

There has been much discussion in the press over the issues raised by the forums held in NUS and NTU the last few days, and I found myself following the discussion closely through my readings of the papers and in my conversations with friends who expressed a similar interest in the issues.

I didn’t laugh after reading this article, however. In fact I felt somewhat indignant.

Well, what was the article about?

The article began by exploring the challenges of the new generation leadership, and how there was a need to forge a new “shared vision” amongst Singaporeans so as to set the direction for a new phase of development.

The author then went on to express his concern over the disconnect between the youth of the country and the government, as exemplified by the proceedings of the forums.

In my last post, A Tale of Two Cities, I criticised the materialism of the immigrant and expatriate community in Singapore. The article criticised instead the materialism of the locals, by stating that the students were, and I quote, “concerned not about national issues but personal interests.”

Which is what gave me the inspiration for the title. Is there, as the article implied, a “clash of materialisms?”

Personally, as I did with the last post, I disagree with the author. The issues raised during the forums pertain to issues of identity rather than purely material concerns. Like I mentioned in Economic Growth at What Cost?, the issue of housing is not purely material, but has to be discussed in the context of how it defines citizenship in Singapore, as well as its relationship to the issues of marriage and family.

The leaders of our country have themselves stated that the challenges facing our country are complex and multifaceted, and I absolutely agree. Therefore, isn’t it unjustifiable to simply dismiss the concerns of local Singaporeans (as raised in the forums) as materialistic?

Of course, we need to bear in mind that the participants of the forums do not represent the views of all Singaporeans. But to state that they belong, as the article states, “a vocal minority” seems to unjustifiably discredit their status as citizens with legitimate concerns.

The other point that I took issue with in that article was its conclusion of the NUS forum. The article summarised the forum as reflecting the dissatisfaction of locals, and with a tinge of irony, that foreigners were by contrast happy with the status quo, and could not understand what the locals were so unhappy about.

The author then concluded by saying that some Singaporeans might have lost their sense of perspective, by becoming inward-looking and not putting Singapore in relation to other countries.

Well, I have two thoughts about that remark.

First, part of National Education has been about comparing Singapore with other countries both past and present, and supposedly allowing us to, as the author put it, put things into perspective. I remember learning in Secondary Social Studies about the National Health Service in Britain as the case study of why a welfare state wouldn’t work, the history of the Venetian Republic as the example of the decline of a city-state due to its complacency, how the conflict in Sri Lanka was the result of a failure to manage ethnic relations, et cetera, et cetera.

Of course, the author speculated in the article whether the government’s efforts at National Education has worked, and I could perhaps say that the result has been mixed. But be that as it may, the fact that we have learnt about the experience of other countries proves in turn we still, unlike what the author said, have a sense of perspective.

Second, are the remarks of the German graduate student any more objective that that of the locals? To have an objective evaluation, we need to understand that he speaks from the perspective of his own social background. To what extent will he be able to empathise with the poor of our country? To what extent will he be able to empathise with the insecurities of his peers? We can’t say for sure, and I won’t speculate here.

Of course, my argument applies to Singaporeans as well. It is therefore important to bear in mind that we cannot assume certain groups speak for all the members they represent.

But the point remains that the arguments raised thus far have all been based on materialistic considerations, which naturally wouldn’t address the fundamental issue of identity and sentiment that is at the heart of the resentment amongst many locals.

Finally, the article called for critics to go about improving the status quo themselves, and not stay on the sidelines and criticise their own country.

Argument of last resort, in my opinion.

Well, practically and objectively speaking, we have to accept the policy of attracting talent and migrant workers for the long-term viability of the city.

But what many citizens are concerned about, is how to strike a balance between the virtue of meritocracy on one hand, and the different interests of local and immigrant communities on the other.

How to deal with the sense of purposelessness that I mentioned in the last post, the inevitability of people questioning the onset of free-riding, and whether their sacrifices would be in vain.

How to cope with the identity crisis that Singapore is facing now, when the government pursues its vision of being a ‘global city’ while my generation starts exploring the question of what it means to be a citizen.

And how citizens would fit in that vision of the government (also raised by the article, and just about the only point I could agree with in that article).

Article Cited:

吴俊刚, 《呼唤下一个共同远景》, 联合早报， 2010年11月8日，18页。

(Wu Jungang, "Hu Huan Xia Yi Ge Gong Tong Yuan Jing" (Call for the next shared vision), Lianhe Zaobao, 8 November, 2010, p. 18.)

A Tale of Two Cities

2010-11-05T13:01:00.007+08:00

The title has nothing to do with Charles Dickens’ novel of the same title, of course.

As I promised in my last post, Economic Growth at What Cost, this post will be related to the forum I attended on Wednesday.

However, while I initially thought of simply writing a continuation of the previous post, touching on issues that I haven’t yet managed to address, reading the Chinese daily newspaper Lianhe Zaobao this morning led me to pursue a different way of writing about the forum, which is the agenda behind this post.

So, what did I read?

The paper covered a few articles about the recent forums held over the past week (the one in NTU, as well as the one in NUS). The first article was a summary of the NUS forum, and the article described how the forum reflected the dissatisfaction amongst locals with the status quo, and by contrast, how foreigners saw Singapore as a good place to live in, characterised by the comments of a German graduate student, who said that Singapore is, and I quote, “heaven”.

The second, the editorial, talk about how the comment by the German student reflected an objective analysis of the situation. The editorial went on to elaborate, saying that he was basing his conclusion about Singapore based on his experiences in other countries (which, i should admit, is true), and Singaporeans not to take what we have here for granted, and called for them to look at the issues facing the country objectively.

The final article, a letter to the press, was a critique of the “I don’t know what I’m defending anymore” statement made at the NTU forum. Well, it might not surprise anyone that the letter was entitled “I know what I’m defending”.

The letter was essentially, a list of the things good about Singapore (social stability, good infrastructure, you get the idea), and concluding by saying that those are the things worth defending.

Oh, did I mention that the author is a Permanent Resident (PR) from Taiwan?

After reading the articles, I laughed really hard.

I know the local press is a platform where public opinion is shaped (i.e., a government mouthpiece), and these articles are obviously aimed at addressing the sentiments and issues raised in the forums, but taking the articles as they are, it reveals something about the nature of Singapore society, which inspired the title of this post.

They reflect the presence of two Singapores. A tale of two cities at play.

One Singapore belongs (or belonged) to the born-and-bred Singaporeans. They have a sense of identity to the country, and that identity is based on the idea that they were born here, but more importantly, that they have participated in the nation-building process, either by literally building up the country as we see today (like our parents’ generation), and/or fulfilling our national obligations (our National Servicemen).

They believe that the country should be run to serve the needs and interests of all citizens, and that they are entitled to a secure and comfortable life in their own country.

That’s not to say, however, that they simply want “citizens first”. Far from it. All it means is that there is an unwritten contract with the government, that the fulfillment of national responsibilities should be remunerated.

The other Singapore belongs to what I call the “new citizens”, the PRs, and the foreigners. Their sense of identity is different from that of the previous group. They, exemplified by the German student and the author of the letter to Zaobao, identifies with what Singapore is: a safe, secure, stable, cosmopolitan, vibrant, prosperous, efficient, clean city brimming with opportunities.

They believe that the country should be run to preserve these good things about the country, which is what attracted and brought them here.

I think it’s not difficult to see the divergences between these groups of people.

When Zi Rui said “I don’t know what I’m defending anymore”, I think he meant that he is no longer sure whether he is defending the Singapore that is the home of his fellow citizens, or that he’s only defending the status quo.

More importantly, challenging the assertion in the Zaobao editorial, I think the point is not that born-and-bred Singaporeans are taking the safety and stability and prosperity of the country for granted, far from it. The point is that there has to be a purpose to why citizens are doing it, fulfilling our responsibilities in society, and maintaining the Singapore that it is.

In other words, the sense of insecurity of born-and-bred Singaporeans is only symptomatic of a bigger problem: a lack of a sense of purpose.

Sure, the government can emphasise and re-emphasise the fact that we need to work hard to maintain the viability and sustainability of Singapore, but the question is, for what and for whom?

The problem lies in the fact that being attracted to the efficiency, economic prosperity, cleanliness, and good infrastructure of the country seems to be a very materialistic motivation. If that’s all Singapore is worth defending, no wonder the born-and-bred Singaporeans are so unhappy.

Of course, I’m not discrediting the role of the second group, who have done much to maintain and foster the growth and development of the city.

I’m just pointing out the fact that there is now a serious divide within Singapore.

Economic Growth at What Cost?

2010-11-04T09:31:00.004+08:00

That was the topic for a forum organised by the NUS Political Association, which I attended yesterday. It was good, in the sense that they’ve got a pretty good line-up of panellists (a PAP MP, two members from the Opposition, and a NMP). And the topic was quite interesting as well.

I thought I could write about what happened in the forum, but turns out, it was the issues that were not discussed , and those that raised during the reception (that is, after the forum proper), that were the most interesting, and most insightful.

For the most part, however, the forum descended into episodes of ranting by some individuals, which predictably undermined the quality of discussion. Moreover, the main issue behind the topic was not even discussed properly.

So, what does the topic actually mean?

The key hypothesis in the topic is this: that the government is obsessed with economic growth, to the point whereby it is no longer concerned with the methods by which it is achieved, as well as the consequences (direct and indirect) that entail.

In other words, it implies a fixation of the government with figures and statistics, with significant consequences.

Another way to look at the topic is that rapid economic growth has led to certain negative impacts, such as widening social inequalities, and retrospectively, whether the government has got its priorities right (economic growth, or the interests of the people).

The answer, as given during the forum, is that economic growth and the interests of the people are not mutually exclusive. Economic growth is a means to an end, and not, as the topic suggests, an end in itself.

While much of the questions raised during the forum relate to sentiments rather than policies, there are still some issues I found interesting, (and as I go through them, you’ll notice that they indeed do not engage the topic of the forum).

Property

There was (for me, a puzzling) fixation with the issue of housing prices. Several questions relate to the issue of rising property prices, which resulted in several citizens (their emphasis) being unable to afford public housing.

The answer was that the issue of housing is a complex and multifaceted one, and that the government has already put in place measures to improve the conditions in the housing market.

I’m interested not so much in whether the responses were good (I think they are satisfactory), but rather, why the interest in the issue of housing.

One theory that came to my mind is that home ownership, at least in Singapore, is a hallmark of citizenship. With a fixed asset, one literally has a stake in the country. It is partly a historical legacy, whereby the provision of affordable public housing by the government served to foster a sense of belonging to the country.

But during the reception, a friend of mine raised another theory, which is also very compelling. It is about the relationship between home ownership and marriage, that the former is an important prerequisite of the latter.

Which in turn leads one to think a little further about another issue that was raised: that of late marriages and declining birth rates.

The argument went that marital and family issues are issues of values, but it is important to note that the material dimension should not be ignored.

National Identity

Another big issue, but unlike the previous post, I don’t know what I’m defending anymore, it’s about the paradoxical way national identity has been articulated.

Every Singaporean participant who raised a question began with an introduction in the following format:

Name, Nationality (with an emphasis on born-and-bred), Having served National Service (for male participants).

The response pertaining to national identity from the panel was that the fact that they emphasised their “born-and-bred” status, and the passion with which they articulate their concerns reflect a strong sense of identity.

The paradox lies in simultaneously emphasising a sense of identity, and yet claim that it is being undermined.

Of course, one might argue that there is no paradox, considering that they are voicing out their insecurities and disillusionment.

But then again, the fact that the argument was “my sense of belonging is threatened” implies that one has a sense of belonging to start with.

The emphasis on National Service is an interesting one as well. Come to think of it, if I raised a question then, I’ll state my own NS “credentials” too.

It reflects another way in which identity is forged: fulfilling your national obligation. Which importantly, is also a source of the current resentment towards the policy of immigration.

The argument goes like this:

Why should I sacrifice two years of my life for people who don’t (serve NS)?

If you compare it with the argument against a social welfare system (which I’ll come to shortly), one can’t help but notice an uncanny similarity in logic:

Why should I sacrifice my salary for people who don’t (work, take care of their parents, etc)?

One directed at newcomers, the other at our so-called “lazy” or “irresponsible” citizens. Different groups of people, same logic.

So perhaps the government can’t exactly pin the blame squarely on the “xenophobia” of some citizens, because they are merely applying the same logic that the government has always applied to another group of people who have not pulled their weight in nation-building, in a broad sense.

Social Welfare

It’s a little sad, that we are as some put it, a first-world country with a third-world social welfare system.

Much of the resentment stems from the fact that while the country has experienced rapid and consistent economic growth, and a speedy recovery despite a serious global recession, there has been no mechanism to redistribute income to the groups of people who have been left out of the economic prosperity.

Of course, the government is quick to point out that social welfare undermines our work ethic by breeding dependency and discouraging work. The government is just as quick to point out that the government (and the taxpayer) should not be made responsible for the irresponsibility of some individuals in society.

But it doesn’t negate that fact that there are a lot of people who need help, and it just means that we can’t have a one-size-fits-all policy, not that we can’t have a policy at all.

Life in a metropolis

I think this is one of the best issues raised in the forum. When we look at Singapore in relation to other metropolises (cities like London, New York, Shanghai), we realise that we all have more or less the same challenges, competition for skilled labour and capital being the most important.

Therefore, in order to survive in the competition between metropolises, we have to be open to flows of people and capital. That in turn brings about its problems and challenges, but the government accepts it, and would want us to accept it, as a necessary price to pay for the long-term survival of the city.

After all, even the concluding remarks of the forum allude to this idea: that the fall of Singapore will be the point when it loses its attractiveness to foreign talent and investment.

Another aspect of life in a metropolis is the cosmopolitan nature of the society. It’s actually a good thing, for it adds to the spiritual vibrancy of the city. Cosmopolitan Singaporeans benefit too, from being well-travelled and well-connected.

What the government has to be concerned about, however, is this:

I believe we are in a transitional stage in our national development. As Singapore transforms into a capital- and knowledge-based economy, and takes on a cosmopolitan character, we enter a “dual-economy”, whereby the new, knowledge-based economy created for our generation coexists with the old, industrial economy of our parents’ generation.

What we experience now is the marginalization of the old economy as a inevitable result of this transition, and our parents and “heartland” Singaporeans feel the pinch, as they are caught up in the unintended consequences of the government’s attempt to sustain the competitiveness of this old economy while the foundations of the new economy is being built.

It’s easy to talk about skills upgrading, but there is a limit to which they can upgrade themselves, due to their inherently low starting point, coupled by the interests and mindsets of employers.

They cannot participate in the new economy, unless they go thorough the complete (and arguably impossible) process of formal education, which for many was denied by the circumstances of their generation. I started when I was 7, my dad has to start at 57.

This is a dilemma that has to be addressed, or the sentiment of resentment would never be adequately resolved.

Actually, I still have many other things to share, but this post is getting somewhat long, so “to be continued”, and for a closing:

Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis.

Times change, and we change with them.

“I don’t know what I’m defending anymore”

2010-11-01T08:51:00.004+08:00

A quote I came across in an article.

In summary, it was about a dialogue between Senior Minister Goh Chok Tong and a participant of a ministerial forum held at NTU.

The participant questioned the “foreign talent” policy of the government, stating that it has done much to erode the sense of belonging amongst Singapore’s youth.

SM Goh’s answer was both predicable (he continued to defend the policy of foreign talent), as well as evasive:

“This is your country, what do you want me to do to make you feel you belong?”

Honestly, I felt a little sad when I read the article. Because sometimes, I find myself asking the same question.

To be fair, I’m not totally against immigration. It has indeed given Singapore a cosmopolitan quality, which is good, not to mention that many of my friends are from other countries.

And of course, my lecturers, who know they are the “talent” the government is talking about, and whom we recognise as the talent.

But one can’t help but feel that the government has muddied the waters by using such a ambiguous term as “foreign talent”, when the situation on the ground reflects a much less selective and calculative policy.

Moreover, there are still important questions to be addressed, and these questions must not be evaded.

I mentioned in a previous post about immigration, Contradictions, how immigrant communities can pose challenges and, well, contradictions to society as a whole.

But in Singapore’s case, there is also a contradiction, albeit one of a different nature.

For many years, the government in general and Mr Lee Kuan Yew in particular (refer to an old post of mine, Forum) have emphasised the importance of the values that our forefathers had that led us to success, such as a positive work ethic.

At one point, it culminated in the formation of the “Asian Values”, an attempt to render these ideals some modicum of ideological consistency.

However, while the government tries to establish such a historical and arguably cultural continuity between the past and the present, it conveniently ignores the fact that its policies have disrupted that continuity between the different generations of Singapore society.

The government counters by saying that we had been an immigrant society in the past, but that’s missing the point. While our grandparents have been immigrants, our parents were not, not to mention our generation.

And it’s a big assumption to make when saying that immigrants might naturally share the same values as us, simply by virtue of the fact that we share ethnic and/or cultural affinities (this is where the “Asian Values” rationalization comes in).

In other words, the contradiction is a contradiction between rhetoric and policy: while the government tries to emphasise the continuity of values, the policy of immigration puts the nature of society in a state of flux. The government attempts to counter the insecurities of the people by drawing another continuity, which ironically (and predictably), only accentuates the contradiction.

And of course, there is another ideological facet to this debate: neoliberalism.

The government has adopted the ideas of neoliberalism, which emphasises the superiority of the free market, and advocates the corporate-style management of the state.

The implications of such a ideology, however, are not purely economic, and also more significant than the government would like to admit.

While our economy has become more open, the sense of insecurity felt by the people has also risen. Meanwhile, the government continues to be resistant to the idea of a social welfare system.

And it could perhaps be the impact of such corporate-style management that relations between politicians and citizens have since soured.

There is increasing resentment towards the increasingly evasive and (sometimes) irresponsible responses of officials towards the needs and concerns of some citizens.

It’s symptomatic of the transformation of the government-citizen relationship to one based on that between the service provider towards the customer, or worse, between the corporate executive and the subordinate.

John F. Kennedy once famously said:

“Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country”

But how, when we have to have to confront even the simple question of “What is my country?”

Rhetoric and Reality

2010-10-21T19:59:00.002+08:00

Today I realised that I have a lot, and I mean a lot, of things to learn regarding thinking and writing.

For Chinese history tutorial, we learnt about mass resistance in China.

In summary, we covered three readings. First, the notion of ‘rightful resistance’, whereby peasants press their demands by working within the authorised channels rather than challenge the state, invoking the laws and rhetoric of the state, and by exploiting the divisions within the leadership.

We then looked at the case of the zhiqing (‘educated youth’) movement in Yunnan, in which a convergence of internal (such as the power struggle within the CCP leadership and the leadership skills of the zhiqing leaders) and external (Sino-Vietnamese War) factors led to the success of their movement to return to the cities.

Finally, we explored the dissident movement in contemporary China, and how changes in the socio-economic context following the reform period affected the development of the dissident movement, especially after the Tiananmen Incident.

While we were discussing the second reading (about the zhiqing movement), Our lecturer raised the question of why the youths were sent to the countryside during that period, especially in the 1960s.

A classmate suggested that it was the desire by Mao to establish his ideal conception of a socialist state.

I suggested, making a reference to an article about the education system in Maoist China assigned earlier in the semester, that Mao, motivated by his rejection of the institutionalised education system, sent the students to the countryside to receive a more practical education from the peasantry.

At this point, my lecturer commented:

“That’s the rhetorical reason. Would you accept this reason as the truth?”

Well, the real reason was (as my lecturer, and a classmate pointed out) that Mao (and the CCP in general) wanted to bring the Red Guards under control, after the initial phases of the Cultural Revolution.

In addition, just before the onset of the Cultural Revolution, the post-Great Leap Forward famine also posed a burden on the state to support the urban population, so the youths were also sent to address the problem of unemployment and population pressure in the urban areas.

After my lecturer gave the comment, I set about thinking, but not so much about the real and pragmatic reasons behind the move, as explained above, but the wider implications of my lecturer’s comment.

I realised that in the study of History (or Political Science, for that matter), there is a need to separate the rhetoric from the reality, not always easy to do.

And personally, I greatly admire the depth of analysis that my lecturer has displayed during the discussion, and I hence have much to learn in order to achieve that depth.

Most probably, this semester would be the first and last time I’ll be taking six modules, as much has been compromised in terms of preparation and revision over the past few months. And to some extent, it has taken a toll on the quality of my assignments and test results…

Ambivalence and Apathy

2010-10-16T09:11:00.003+08:00

The title could very well be the theme of my Chinese History lecture yesterday.

In the lecture, we covered the era of a very important figure in modern Chinese history:

Deng Xiaoping.

We learnt about the reforms that were implemented during his leadership, and how it contributed on one hand, to the rapid economic development that we still see occurring in China now, and on the other hand, the increased social and political tensions within the country.

I guess it also shows just how sensitive the issue of historical legacy is.

So, what else was covered in the lecture?

First, we evaluated the degree to which economic reforms were led by the state. While it is true that the state did facilitate the development of the market economy in China (such as the setting up of the Special Economic Zones, such as Shenzhen), there were still important continuities, such as the persistence of state-owned industries.

In addition, rural reform was carried out from the bottom-up rather than top-down. The CCP endorsed the rural reforms after witnessing the success of the reforms initiated by the villagers, at the risk of state reprisal. In a sense, therefore, rural reform was successful despite, rather than because of the state.

Then we looked at the discontents of reform. Economic problems such as rising inflation. Political problems such as corruption. Moreover, a question was raised by my lecturer: perhaps the economy had also developed at the expense of culture (he raised the example of Shenzhen, whereby questions about the lack of an intrinsic cultural value has been raised).

And of course, this:

We discussed the significance of the Tiananmen Incident on Chinese politics and society. The most important is that it resulted in a legitimacy crisis for the CCP.

The CCP was supposed to be the Party of the People. The Peoples’ Liberation Army was supposed to the Peoples’ Army. But the suppression of the student movement in June 1989 undermined the image of the Party, and has since contributed to much of the sense of insecurity felt by the Party leadership.

The strict media and internet censorship enforced by the state propaganda apparatus, the reaction to the recent awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize to the dissident Liu Xiaobo, reveals that insecurity, as the CCP is trying to wipe the event off the Chinese collective memory (and to some extent they did it, I’ll come to that later).

This reveals the sense of ambivalence that many would have regarding Deng: while he initiated the reforms that brought China out of isolation and improved the political and economic climate of the country, he was also ruthless in suppressing dissent and challenges to the regime.

But there is also a bigger question: must democracy and freedom always be subordinate or sacrificed for the sake of modernization? Or stability?

However, perhaps all these questions are irrelevant at this point in time, since no Chinese ever explores them again. The control by the state’s propaganda and censorship apparatus, coupled by the prioritization of material needs over political issues had led, as my lecturer said, to a culture of political apathy.

The significance of this is threefold. First, much optimism has been placed on the middle class in their role in fostering democratization. However, the rise of a politically conservative or even apathetic middle class will not contribute to democratization, since their class interests are already met by the status quo. Their interests therefore lay in defending the status quo, rather than to challenge it.

Second, the attempt to erase the Incident from the collective memory of the Chinese has served to alter the impression that the Chinese have of Deng, and the political context of the period. According to my lecturer, Deng is now highly regarded in China as a modernizer, and knowledge regarding the Incident amongst the Chinese youth is now fragmented and fading. Liu Xiaobo’s award has also been received with much skepticism and even disapproval amongst Chinese as well.

Finally, this culture of political apathy is perhaps also a contributing factor to the sense of ambivalence towards Deng’s leadership. Paradoxically, Deng has promoted progress in China, and also stifled it.

Of course, that’s assuming democratization can be equated with progress, an assumption that can be very easily challenged.

Or perhaps there is another facet to the issue: that some issues regarding political stability within the CCP remain unanswered.

When fundamental issues (such as succession, which currently relies on norm-bounded consensus) are not addressed, the uncertainties can outweigh other considerations, such as political reform.

Though that simply begs the question: wouldn’t discussing political reform provide answers to these questions?

I guess it goes right back to where we started: historical legacy. Perhaps there is a latent sense of fear, that embarking on a Chinese version of glasnost would, like the Soviet experience, expose the inherent contradictions, paradoxes, and hypocrisies of the leadership. They already had the same problems when dealing with Mao’s legacy. The assessment of the entire party could be much more complex, and damaging.

But could it ignite a politically apathetic culture?

Contradictions

2010-10-08T10:31:00.005+08:00

It’s been some time since I last posted here, as I was up to my neck in assignments…

Now that I’ve cleared the more difficult and urgent ones, I thought I could perhaps take a short break, and watch some documentaries.

And I came across this BBC documentary (BBC documentaries are always the best in my opinion): Rivers of Blood, by Denys Blakeway.

It’s about an infamous speech by a prominent Tory, Enoch Powell, in 1968 about the now hotly debated and highly sensitive issue of immigration (not just in Britain,but the rest of Europe, and even Singapore too).

In the highly inflammatory speech, which had strong racial undertones, he attacked the (then Labour) government’s policy of mass immigration, arguing that it would undermine the social values and identity of Britain, and lead to communal conflict.

Quoting the poet Virgil, he said he seemed to see:

“The River Tiber foaming with much blood.”

(that is how the speech came to be known as the “Rivers of Blood” speech).

His political career was destroyed as a result of that speech, but in the decades that followed, the formation of segregated communities, religious extremism, outbreaks of communal violence and terrorism in Britain has led many to wonder whether Powell was right after all…

In my opinion, the fundamental issue that Powell raised, which was also addressed by Rivers of Blood, was there is a fundamental contradiction between the values and beliefs of these immigrant communities, and the values and beliefs of the country in which they inhabit (i.e. Britain).

In other words, the violence is only a symptom of a much larger and more complex problem: the tensions and contradictions between opposing values.

This is a problem not unique to Britain, but to the rest of Western Europe as well. Tensions exist between the sectors of the population who have deeply-held religious or social beliefs, and the overarching socio-political system that is on the whole secular and liberal.

Of course, it is easy to say that “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”. But the situation then was no longer so clear-cut, not to mention the situation now.

Second and third-generation members of immigrant communities see themselves not as immigrants, nor descendents of immigrants, but full-fledged citizens. They too have visions and ideals of their own, which in many cases are shaped by their religion. Given the ability, as citizens, to take part in the political process, they certainly would want to see their vision realized.

So, we can’t say “do as the Romans do”, because these people are “Romans”!

The crux of the problem is this: they have a vision of an ideal society based on, say, their religion, but to realize this vision would be to challenge the secular nature of the socio-political system. In addition, if they are given the space on which to realize their vision, they effectively create communities separated from the rest of society. The result, a “plural society”, undermines national unity.

But there is a more pressing issue within it: a group that takes their religious beliefs to be the ultimate and unerring truth is sure to find difficulties tolerating anything that defies or deviates from those beliefs. Therefore, there is also the issue of tolerance and co-existence. Since it's the truth, it should, in their opinion, apply to the others as much as it applies to them.

That’s the fundamental contradiction, but there are other contradictions.

As citizens, they are entitled to several civil rights, freedom of speech and expression, freedom of association, etc. But in the context of Europe, those freedoms are absolute and unlimited, which is at odds which the Muslim communities in these countries. They believe there must be a limit to freedom of expression: religion.

In other words, anyone can say anything they want, except about Islam.

I can perfectly understand that, coming from a country where the same rule applies (and to other religions as well). And I agree with the fact that religious sensitivities is important in order to avoid conflict.

But, I do have a question. What if religion becomes a front, a “shield” with which certain groups with vested interests can close debate regarding certain socio-political issues?

What if, it is a social problem which is particularly acute amongst a particular racial or religious group, and groups who desire the problem to be perpetuated, or who do not see it as a social problem simply says: “that’s insulting our religion!” closes all debate, and forces the rest of society to self-censor?

Of course, it begs the question, whether it is fundamentally a social problem, but the idea of groups arbitrarily closing debate on issues is ultimately a breach of the right to freedom of speech.

That is another lesson that Powell’s experience has taught me, in my view.

In Powell’s context, his detractors, who framed the issue with race distorted the crux of his argument and prolonged the problem. Today, we run the same risk if we allow certain groups to frame genuine problems with religion.

And what if (just what if) there is really a fundamental issue with religious doctrine?

Which is why freedom of speech is important, though the fundamental question of how and where the line between critique and insult can be drawn can never be fully resolved.

Finally, there is the issue of differing political views. In Britain’s case, a serious point of tension was the government’s decision to join the US coalition in Iraq in 2003. Many Muslims (understandably) opposed the decision, and some extremists launched the 7/7 bombings as retaliation.

I can understand their alienation and anger. What they see is yet another contradiction: they, as citizens, could not understand how the government, which supposedly represents the will of the people (which they are a part of) could support aggression against of all countries, an Islamic country.

It’s a crisis of faith. They have become increasingly skeptical of democracy. A lot of people might be tempted to think that it mirrors the political situation in Europe of the 1930s. To some extent true. A crisis of faith in democracy fuelled extremism (albeit of a different kind, I must emphasise).

But there are some points to consider. First, while they do constitute a part of the people, their views alone cannot be equated with that of the people as a whole. Societies nearly never come to a consensus on issues, and issues of war and peace are no exception. Second, even if we take the stand that public opinion against the war is broad, what it shows is that it is not a religious issue, but a broader one, in which governments are no longer accountable to the people, again, as a whole. It’s a political problem.

I’m glad Singapore (thus far) has always handled ethnic and religious issues well. But the issues raised here can provide insights on how we ourselves perceive the issue of immigration.

On Debate and Discussion

2010-09-30T18:04:00.003+08:00

Today brought about mixed feelings in me. Overall, the day was fine (the lessons were productive, I got my assignment and test back, and they were satisfactory), until I received an email.

I began the day thinking:

“Will the Southeast Asian History tutorial today be as bad as the previous sessions?”

As I remembered what happened over the past weeks, I can’t help thinking about how the session would turn out. In my uncertainty, I tried to be as cautious as possible in my overall conduct.

I don’t know if it worked, but the session overall ended amiably, which was good.

Then, I received an email in the afternoon.

It was from the others in the class (who they are I don’t know). They gave their opinions about me in class, which, in summary, confirmed what my friends told me the few weeks before, but the overall tone of the email was cordial.

As I read the email, I began to have several questions:

What went wrong? What gave them the impression?

Honestly, I don’t know. I suppose there has to be a huge misunderstanding somewhere that has led to this, but how it began, or how it got to this stage I have no idea.

I don’t want to assume too much, but I suppose it comes down to having a different understanding of what “debate” and “discussion” means.

The point is no longer whether I was actually confrontational, but whether I was in the perception of the others (which, judging from the feedback, I was).

Perhaps it was with the way I express my opinions and arguments, which (yes, I admit) my experience in debating has contributed to.

But debating has also taught me how to express ideas clearly, concisely, and confidently, skills that to this day I value and cherish.

Perhaps it’s the last of the three that has contributed to this whole misunderstanding.

I do have questions, however.

First, if debates aren’t about taking a stand and defending it, then what is a debate?

Second, must I always say things like “I agree” or “to build on his/her argument” to be non-confrontational? Assuming that I should, if there is a fundamental disagreement, isn’t it better to share it?

Third, following the supposition that there is a disagreement, it is subjective on the part of us to judge on behalf of anyone else the validity of an argument. You might think that an argument that was shot down was good, but there could be as many people that are likely to disagree with you as there are to agree.

I understand that there is a need to debate amiably, and I am absolutely in favour of that. But I think there is a need to separate the issue from the person making the statement.

True that debates can be confrontational, but just remember, nobody should take anything personally, just as I never took any criticism about my arguments personally, not when I was a debater in JC, not in my Model UNs, not in class.

So while I accept the comments made by the others, and would try my very best to improve myself, I just want to make this belief of mine clear.

To end off, some experiences:

After every debate, the debaters go to each other and shake hands. It could have been very confrontational, but they all understood that it was not malicious.

During a Model UN conference, a delegate can call for a right to reply if the delegate felt that his/her personal or national integrity has been undermined. But at the end, the delegates of two supposed enemies (say, the US and North Korea) could still be the best of friends, for they too have the same understanding.

Is It Worth It?

2010-09-23T09:21:00.002+08:00

And now for something completely different.

(after spending a couple of posts (and valuable time) dealing with some personal issues I’ll rather forget).

I was reading the news online, and the reports about India’s preparations for the Commonwealth Games, which is very rapidly transforming into a disaster, caught my attention.

Construction work way behind schedule, poor conditions at the Athletes’ Village, issues with health and security, athletes pulling out of the games, and finally, a collapsed bridge just outside the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium, the main stadium for the games.

So, what to make of this situation?

I guess it is necessary to begin by asking the following questions:

One, why do governments take all the effort to host these games, which in due honesty, cost a lot, don’t bring in profits, and creates problems of their own?

Two, how the current situation in India should be interpreted, what can be done, and what lessons can be derived?

Many governments are very keen on hosting such sporting events. For example, China with the 2008 Olympics, South Africa with the World Cup, and even Singapore had a go with the Youth Olympics (which had its fair share of criticism, which I won’t address in this post).

The reasons are varied, but generally fall within the description of “putting themselves on the world stage.”

For China (and India, with its Commonwealth Games), hosting an international sporting event is a display of its rising international status, and to further raise its international profile.

For South Africa, it was with the (misplaced, if you ask me) optimism that hosting the games would promote economic development, as infrastructure undergo improvements and investors gain confidence with the country.

But come to think of it, to what extent can a sporting event prove a country’s national strength?

The successful hosting of a sporting event shows that the country has the necessary resources to do so.

But what governments tend to forget is that a sporting event is a display of strength if and only if the country has a surplus of resources. When governments host these events without surplus resources, they tap on resources reserved for other, more important items on the budget, such as healthcare and education. So how could a sporting event be a display of strength when hosting it actually saps the country of it?

Not to mention the apparent disparity that visitors can observe when they notice the contrast between state-of-the-art sports facilities with a poor urban landscape in the background.

And since these events are costly and aren’t profitable (just take the Youth Olympic Games as an example, having exceeded its budget by three times), the importance of having the extra resources is even more apparent.

In addition, the current situation in India now reveals more problems. Problems such as bureaucratic inefficiency and corruption. It’s not just the event itself, but the process of preparation, which is also in full view of the world, that are indicators of how well a country is worthy of the epithet of “rising power.”

Another way to look at the problem could be that it is an issue of being too ambitious.

Unless the country has had extensive experience in hosting international events, it is not exactly wise to plunge into large-scale events without having first acquired the necessary experience and expertise. It’s one thing to be inspired by the success of other countries, quite another to replicate them in your own, since the political and economic context is different.

Therefore, what can be done?

Personally, I think postponing the games could save India from further embarrassment. As much as the organisers are confident that the games will take place in time, the lack of confidence on the part of the participants will do little to vindicate the success of the games.

Moreover, no one will be able to afford the disaster that will entail if things are patched up at the last minute, only to fall apart at the wrong time, wrong place.

Well, some thoughts about hosting sporting events, which I’ve always described as 劳民伤财 (taxing the people and hurting the wealth of the country), and some thoughts about how to host events myself.

An Enigma

2010-09-19T22:47:00.003+08:00

That’s who I am perhaps, an enigma.

Some people are on good terms with me, some people fear me, and perhaps, judging by the recent surge in rumours, more people hate me, and some people of course are just indifferent either way. But ultimately, people don't seem to understand who exactly I am.

Since my last post, Some Thoughts, I have received many words of encouragement from several of my friends, and I am truly thankful for their encouragement and understanding.

But I guess there is still a need to think more deeply about myself, what kind of a person I actually am.

Of course, this isn’t, and shouldn’t be perceived as a process of self-description or self-justification, but one thing I’ve realised from this episode is that there is simply no way by which I can influence the thoughts of others.

If people want to construe this post as self-justification, or my behaviour in class as they want to perceive it, I can’t do anything.

Earlier in the evening I received some comments from my friends about how people (i.e. those who have been criticising me) have been reacting to Some Thoughts.

Once again, some comments continue to bewilder me, but I’ve learnt to take them in my stride. It’s the broader questions that these comments reveal about how much I am understood, which is the purpose behind this post.

I think it is possible to summarise these comments into three questions:

1. Do a lot of people dislike me, or it is just a few people?

2. Have a lot of people been complaining about me to the professors, and did the professors agree with them?

3. Have I been responsible for making lessons confrontational?

On the first question, honestly I don’t know! Perhaps it’s a few people who dislike me, or a lot of people who dislike me and a few who are vocal about it, or a lot of people who dislike me but don’t show it openly.

I’m also described as a lonely, unapproachable person, but could it be because they haven’t really understood me properly? How did they arrive at conclusions with a single conversation? And for some, without even interacting with me?

And how would they know that the (admittedly) small circle of friends I have are friendships consolidated over time, and they genuinely understand me?

But anyway, from what I was told, a lot of people have been unhappy with me, and have also been complaining to the profs, which brings me to my second question.

So, do the professors dislike me? I don’t know too!

Is it an offense to be active in class discussions? My Southeast Asian History prof once mentioned that the problem of tutorial is the limited airtime (his calculation was 4 minutes for each student). I certainly have exceeded that 4 minute limit (if there indeed was a limit), but so have many of the other classmates. So why was it me that came under attack?

And in addition, I’ve also heard comments about me interrupting the profs. Now that’s a blatant lie (as one would expect of rumours). I talk a lot, I admit, but I never interrupt my tutor. At the very least I raise my hand and await my turn.

Of course, I can always go to my profs to find out; they would be willing to share their thoughts of me, by way of feedback. But then, I would, as I was told, be confirming the suspicion (and fear) of some of these people that I would make a “counter-complaint” (if there’s such a thing) to the profs.

My thoughts on that is: “Why are all of you always looking at things in such a political manner?” I am not interested in the “politics!”

But one thing that I was told quite appalled me, something that someone said to the effect of:

“I realised in university that everyone and anyone are capable of anything”

So one conclusion I could make is perhaps this: that’s what people have always been thinking, and this has been the fundamental assumption that has guided their attitudes and reactions to social interaction.

Well, some people might be capable of anything, not me. I’ve better things to do.

It also reveals much about how “friendships” (if you can still call it that) have been perceived in university. A deficit of genuine friendships. A lack of trust.

And it really begs the question: who’s the one better off? Someone with a few loyal and understanding friends, or someone with friends who would make him/her prefer his/her enemies?

And have I been responsible for making the lessons confrontational?

Come to think of it, I wasn’t even involved in the most confrontational episode in the Southeast Asian History tutorial sessions. It began in the first tutorial, with a discussion about whether there were indeed “paradoxes in Southeast Asian nationalism,” and a tense debate took place between two classmates over the comments made. I wasn’t involved in that particular discussion until later on.

But why was it that people forget about the details?

Notoriety on the part of me, perhaps. Or selective memory on the part of the others? I’m in no position to make any judgement, but it once again shows the lack of understanding.

And about the quality of discussion, I’ve also been told that my comments have been “factual stuff people already know”.

I can’t make any comments on such a subjective statement, but what I can say is, if one does has the knowledge, why not share it? Especially if it’s got to do with the question asked!

I will patiently listen as long as anyone is willing to contribute to discussion, but the thing is, for some weird reason people are holding it back! And then they expect other people to contribute “original material” for their benefit! It’s inherently unfair!

Finally, about people who are also doing well for studies and not having made any enemies. Well, honestly I envy these people, but I’ll have to say that everyone is different. I’ll respect the differences of others as long as they can respect the fact that I am different from them.

It is ultimately what makes people unique (and not the same) that makes friendships interesting. Partly due to my experiences in JC.

And perhaps I’ve only myself to blame for naively believing that I could keep a “low profile” and participate actively in academics.

So who am I? An enigma?

To understand and befriend me requires not personality but time and patience.

Some Thoughts

2010-09-15T08:56:00.002+08:00

Last week I posed a question in this blog:

“Is it just me, or is it that the Southeast Asian History tutorials have to be so confusing and confrontational?”

While I was concerned about the issue, I wasn’t expecting any serious ramifications about that day, until a gathering with some old friends for dinner yesterday.

There, I realised there were indeed ramifications, and what I was told by my friends both bewildered and appalled me.

What they told me was what some classmates thought of me during the tutorial, which were negative, to put it lightly. I was accused of being arrogant, dictatorial and uncompromising…

Well, perhaps that’s something about me that I have to reflect on.

But what appalled me was the extent to which people are prepared to exaggerate and lie, which was reflective of their cowardice and insensitivity.

Not to mention that such negative comments aren’t just directed at myself, but another classmate in the module, whose only “crime” was active participation in discussion.

It could be true that some of the arguments made in the discussion were problematic, but that is no reason to take things to such a personal level. The whole purpose of discussion is to share ideas, and through debate strengthen our understanding of the subject. It’s ok to have controversial ideas, it’s what makes tutorial sessions meaningful.

But what is a real issue of concern is when I was told that people were actually jeering when the discussions were taking place during lecture. (True or not I don’t know, but if it is, shame on these people).

It is unfortunate, perhaps, that the pressure of academic culture has created this situation whereby people have to put up with such criticism simply for doing what is expected of them as students.

In addition, it is also ironic that the people who have put up the criticism that they have been deprived of their opportunity to participate have been conspicuous in their silence and passive attitude.

And since they are certain to want to prove me wrong, I could maintain absolute silence for a tutorial session (not the first time I’ve done that), so that they are certain to be able to participate.

Of course, I’m certain they’ll disagree with me, since everyone has a different recollection and interpretation of events.

But (as History and Social Science students), perhaps we need to think about whether we have been making judgements based on our predispositions, which have been socially constructed through our interactions with our respective circles of friends and associates?

And now to the more serious (and ridiculous) accusation: that I have been fawning on the lecturers.

My response to that is simple: by saying that, they have actually demeaned the integrity of the lecturers. Do they seriously think that the lecturers are that gullible?

And to top it off, perhaps it is a projection of their own misguided attitudes and predispositions about teacher-student relations: that whoever is on good terms with the lecturers must have been fawning on them?

Finally, to end this post, I wasn’t just told by my friends of what was said about me, but who said it, and how these comments have been spreading.

But, in due honesty, I don’t really care. I just felt there was a need to express some concern about the situation, considering its implications for the dynamics of that class for the rest of the semester, and the rest of my time in NUS, for that matter.

And, to reflect upon the incidents that have been happening for the past week, I think we have to stop thinking of studies as a matter of relative gains, a zero-sum game where some benefit at the expense of others, because it is not.

It is a matter of absolute gains, whereby everyone can benefit as long as we share what we know and think, and strengthen this base of knowledge through discussion.

And, I’m certainly willing to forgive and forget, since I still believe that we can cooperate rather than compete.

Theories or Hypotheses?

2010-09-09T16:24:00.003+08:00

Is it just me, or is it that the Southeast Asian history tutorials have to be so confusing and confrontational?

I had the tutorial in the morning, and not for the first time I’ve felt a tension between History as a discipline and the Social Sciences.

The tutorial was essentially about the use of theories in History, and the question put to us was simple:

“Can we use theories in History?”

I gave my view (perhaps regretfully) as a Political Science student, as I mentioned the idea that theories provide a framework with which to understand and explain developments, events and interactions.

At this point, a classmate gave a counterargument, saying something (as I understood it) to the effect of the problem of forcing theories to fit the evidence.

To that I gave a response, but I guess we both misunderstood each other, and a really confusing debate took place.

As the others contributed their views on the issue, we came down to three conclusions: one, that hypotheses would be more accurate to describe what we are discussing (theories being too strong a word), two, that hypotheses can change over time, and three, that hypotheses are a starting point for discussion of any topic.

One thing that I noticed is how skeptical my classmates (bona fide History students) were towards the use of theories.

I guess it stems from the problem that theories don’t always fit, don’t take into account certain factors, and could also be deterministic. There is also the concern (which I brought up myself) that there could be problems with using Western-centric and contemporary theories to explain historical events in non-Western contexts, a problem of anachronism in other words.

Which are justified concerns, of course.

But while it’s easy to pick out problems, it is still important to recognise that theories/hypotheses, for all their flaws, provide an explanatory framework. Otherwise, it is difficult, if not impossible to make sense of the evidence, and draw conclusions.

And come to think of it, every historical argument makes implicit references to theories or perspectives. When one argues that a war (WW1 for example) broke out because of the upsetting of the balance of power in Europe, one is making an argument based on the realist perspective. When one argues that structural elements matter more than personal agency, one is subscribing to deterministic analyses.

So, what we have to question, perhaps, is not whether we should use theories/hypotheses (since we already use them, consciously or unconsciously), but how do we know where the potential problems of using them are, and how to deal with it?

I guess one lesson learnt for me personally is that as much as History and Political Science as subjects can complement each other, tensions still exist between the two as disciplines, and I can foresee that the differences will become more apparent as I take modules at a higher level…

And meanwhile, I am starting to feel that the tutorial sessions for that module is getting confrontational… debate is a good thing, definitely, but I think it’s still important to remember to debate amiably.

Consultation

2010-09-06T23:04:00.002+08:00

Today was pretty much a day like any other, except for the fact that I’ve attended a consultation session, only the second (though definitely not the last) in my one-and-a-half years in NUS. There I received yet another shock, though it wasn’t as bad as the last time (refer to the previous post, Confusion), and it in fact was beneficial in many ways.

I had trouble with my essay for the module “Southeast Asia: Decolonization and After,” (which was about the most significant year in Vietnam’s decolonization process), so I decided to look for my prof to clear my doubts.

While most of the session was smooth and productive, there was a point in the discussion I discovered how badly prepared I was content-wise.

I asked whether it was possible to discuss non-political aspects of decolonization in Vietnam. Prof replied that it is perfectly possible, and asked whether I had any examples. Off the top of my head, I tried to think of examples (on hindsight, there aren’t any), but to no avail.

Prof simply said that I needed to get my facts right before moving on, which I agree fully.

The consultation session has been a sobering experience for me. For one, I discovered my own personal limitations. I also realised the potential problems with my essay outline, and the challenges that comes with a higher level module.

But though I’ve discovered new challenges, it was good that I was able to identify them early, and in an informal consultation session. Today was also a reminder of the need to remain diligent and not become complacent…

Confusion

2010-09-03T00:19:00.003+08:00

This semester will be a tough one for me. A heavier-than-normal workload and commitments in PSSOC has nearly put me to the point of overstretch.

And today has reminded me that’s the least of my worries.

Today, I had my tutorial on Chinese history, and the feeling I got inspired the title for this post, although “confusion,” come to think of it, isn’t the best expression of my feeling at that point in time.

We were discussing the topic of China’s entry into the Korean War, and we began with a chronology of the Korean War itself. When it came to my turn, I gave the chronology as I understood a chronology to be: a sequence of events.

When I was done, my tutor commented:

“Very detailed! But there’s no analysis. You haven’t shown how the events are connected to each other.”

I was shocked!

Is it necessary to do so? Isn’t a chronology simply a list of events in the order in which they occurred?

I was taught differently last semester when I took another Chinese history module. My professor told us of the importance of chronology in understanding historical events, to understand the order and timing in which events occurred. I understood the need to know the connections, but as far as I remembered, it’s not explicit in the chronology itself.

Because when prof did the chronology for us, that’s what it was: a list of events in the order they occurred!

Well, i quickly put that behind me and proceeded with the discussion. We then discussed the origins of the Korean War.

The class agreed that the war began on 25 June, 1950 with North Korea’s invasion of the South. Of course, the periodisation of the war is a matter of debate, with historians such as Bruce Cumings arguing that the war actually began in 1945, as the underlying causes of the war emerged at that point. (courtesy of my module on Korean history last semester). That was a point we also raised in the discussion.

But that was the point I got another shock.

My tutor’s take on the Korean War was totally different! He traced the beginning of the war to the 14th century, to the Imjin Wars between Japan and Korea in the Choson Dynasty. He argued that that was the first Korean crisis, and the first instance of Chinese intervention in the Korean peninsula.

At this point I started to wonder:

If I can’t know what answer he is expecting from us, how can I be sure if I’m giving the “correct” answer during the exams?

That got me pretty worried. For a start, there is no “correct” answer in History. Some answers are better than others, depending on their relative explanatory power. And if we cannot be certain of what he expects in an answer to his question (which is assuming that a “correct” answer exists, as defined by the tutor), then we cannot confidently provide answers to those questions.

Or maybe it’s that the whole dynamic of the tutorial is wrong…

And I’ve made several other mistakes in the course of the tutorial, but they do not merit much thought, just carelessness on my part.

It has been a pretty bad day for me. I just hope things can improve in the next session…

Incompetence

2010-08-24T20:47:00.002+08:00

The hostage crisis in Manila, Philippines ended in tragedy and disaster with the deaths of eight hostages.

I followed the story as part of my research for my module on Politics in Southeast Asia, since I had to compile a scrapbook (the theme of which I’ve just decided to be political violence in Southeast Asia), and several thoughts came to my mind, which I’ve decided to share in this post.

What was the significance of this crisis? In addition to the sheer tragedy, there is also the implications of the political situation in the Philippines, which inspired the title for the post.

First, the hijacker, a former police officer, was dismissed (along with a few other policemen) after being caught for extortion. It appears that his dismissal was poorly handled from the start. Since he was caught for corruption, why was he not prosecuted? Why was he still armed? This initial phase of the crisis reveals therefore, the deep institutional and procedural problems within the Philippine security services.

Second, the way in which the crisis was handled was also problematic. The lack of clear and coordinated command, the lack of personnel with expertise to handle the problem (SWAT teams, negotiators), and the distraction caused by the media presence (security analysts argue that there should have been a media blackout to isolate the hijacker). Again, procedural problems. But it is more puzzling once it is realised that the security services did have these resources at their disposal, as it then begs the question: Why were they not utilised?

Then there is the diplomatic repercussions of this crisis. China and Hong Kong have severely criticized the Filipino government for the poor handling of the crisis, and the lack of sincere engagement on the part of the latter (as of now) have not helped matters.

To conclude, it remains to be seen how the Filipino government would deal with both the internal and external effects of this crisis, which is certain to affect the domestic and international image of the country for some time.

The Parliament of Man XII

2010-08-21T13:05:00.004+08:00

After a week in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, for my Global Model United Nations (GMUN) Conference, I’m finally back in Singapore, to face a mountain of work.

But I still thought that writing a post of the proceedings is in order, so here it is.

That’s the GMUN General Assembly plenary session. Feels just like the real UN.

GMUN 2010 is quite different from the usual Model UN conference, both in terms of format and organisation.

It is structured as a summit, which, in contrast to the usual MUN committees simulating specific UN agencies or committees, simulates an assembly of political leaders. For instance, Committee 1 (which is on education) simulates a summit of education ministers, and head delegates also represent the heads of state rather than UN ambassadors (which in my case, as head delegate I doubled as both Prime Minister and Education Minister for Sao Tome and Principe).

In addition to terminology, the format of a summit also changes the nature of the conference. Since we were not simulating UN agencies, we were not in the position of designing and implementing specific policies or initiatives, but rather, to set goals and guidelines which we as political leaders can use as references to implement policies based on our relative competencies.

That was a point which the Chair had to remind us, and we had to remind ourselves continuously.

Moreover, in comparison to usual MUNs, which are more structured (with moderated caucuses), GMUN was much more informal. First, there are no caucuses, only informal consultations, which are essentially unmoderated caucuses. Informal consultations may be moderated by the Chair, but there is no fixed topic, which is different from a moderated caucus.

Some of us were uncomfortable with such a new format, as they felt the lack of structured debate compromised the the quality of discussion somewhat.

Personally, however, while it took some time getting used to the new Rules of Procedure, it was overall an interesting experience once I got the hang of it.

The committee sessions themselves were thought-provoking, but not so much for what was discussed or achieved, but what it actually reveals about the dynamics of a summit.

The discussions sometimes descended into debates over wording and terminology, which put some delegates off, not to mention causing some loss of time.

There was also much debate about the practicability of certain clauses, given the different levels of development across different countries. Some countries tried to incorporate certain initiatives into the Committee Report, but (as I mentioned in some of my speeches) that was firstly not the prerogative of the committee, and secondly, that many times the delegates that have proposed these initiatives have not considered the different competencies of the countries in the committee.

There was a need, therefore, to seek compromises, a conscious effort to avoid being too specific, and to adopt ideas that were generally more flexible both in interpretation and implementation.

That’s the substantive. Now’s the issues with organisation.

Of course, some things were good. For example, the Global Village was good. For a start, that was the first real Global Village I’ve attended. A genuine multicultural exposure and exchange.

But… some things were just strange, and some things went horribly wrong.

For example, there were two opening and two closing ceremonies. The first opening and closing ceremonies are familiar to any regular MUNer: the Secretary-General (in GMUN’s case, the President of the General Assembly) declares the session open or closed, and strikes the gavel.

Then, there was the opening and closing sessions by the Malaysian Government, for the Malaysian Government.

A lot of speeches, which were repetitive, and also a lot of corporate-style publicity stunts, which were… how should I put it…

… just strange for a MUN.

Well, that’s just me perhaps, for I’ve always treated MUNs as intellectual events, so that was somewhat awkward for me.

Then, it’s the first MUN that has no Social Event as part of the programme. Maybe because it’s Malaysia and it’s Ramadan, but then again, it’s kind of like a tradition at MUNs. In any case, almost all of us ended up at Zouk, though I personally didn’t relish the experience very much (too tired, and I don’t like loud noises).

And the lack of a Social Event wasn’t the only thing that departed from MUN tradition, there were other things that were not common practice in MUNs (or maybe it’s just my lack of experience): such as exchanging name cards and gifts.

And the thing that went pretty wrong: the dinners.

We had two dinners, a welcome dinner hosted by the Malaysian Government, and a farewell dinner sponsored by Nestle. Both were fine by themselves, just this question in my mind:

“Why did they put speakers up to make addresses when everyone else is either getting food, or taking photos, or chatting with each other? Nobody’s going to be listening, and it’ll annoy the speaker, and make us, the delegates look bad!”

Sometimes, it’s the sequencing. They brought up the speaker after we have finished our food, and busy chatting and taking photos. So everyone’s walking and talking around.

Sometimes, it’s the way the dinner itself was organised. The farewell dinner was a buffet, so everyone was walking around from beginning to end.

Well, I can understand the fact that a lot of formal dinners have the practice of putting speakers, but they are usually done because the dinner is the setting for the actual conference, not a post-conference celebration, so everyone’s serious and listening. Not to mention the speeches were essentially repetitions of the speeches made earlier at the opening or closing ceremonies.

I personally felt bad about putting the speakers (which included an Under-Secretary General of the UN) in such an undignified position, but I feel it has more to do with organisation that anything else.

Well, some thoughts about how to organise dinners in future, perhaps?

Overall, GMUN 2010 was a unique experience. Both good and not-so-good, but then again, that applies to every MUN in general. Now it’s WorldMUN 2011 (where I’ll be Assistant Chair) to think about and look forward to, and hopefully, it’ll be just as interesting an experience as GMUN was.

The National Narrative

2010-08-09T14:39:00.004+08:00

Today’s National Day, so I thought it’ll be fitting to write a post as a tribute.

Every National Day involves a reminder of what I call the “national narrative”, and this national narrative has been repeated 44 times (including this year) with every National Day Parade.

Every National Day Parade looks the same, not just because of tradition, but also because the plot of each NDP is the same every year: a display of national strength and sovereignty with the military parade, and then display of national values and unity with the show segment. The details might change from time to time, but these differences are only superficial in nature, while the overall narrative remains the same.

NDP is a manifestation of the continuous process of nation-building: the idea of “nation” as what Benedict Anderson famously terms the “imagined community” is not inherent, but has to be constantly reminded with a certain degree of frequency. This in turn highlights the salience of national identity, and also, its limitations.

Which is also why, I can’t help but feel a sense of dissonance when I compare the national narrative as portrayed by the NDP with the general forces that shaped and continue to shape Singapore today.

There has been, for some time, debates about the government’s policy on immigration, and its impact on national cohesion and identity. The question I would like to explore here is not (the over-debated issues of) whether integration can be carried out effectively, nor how it could be done, but rather the relationship between that process of integration and the national narrative.

Part of that national narrative relates to the process by which our leaders and forefathers brought the country from poverty to prosperity. While we certainly should remember the spirit that motivated and propelled them, like I mentioned in the post Between the Past and the Present, we have to consider the extent to which we can establish a continuity between the past and the present.

And how would the newcomers fit in this narrative of history?

History has always been used as an agent to foster national identity, sometimes positively, sometimes negatively. The crucial difference is how the same sequence of events are narrated to tell a certain story.

In the same way, the same sequence of events can be retold to engage a new generation of Singaporeans with different values and experiences, but which will also foster the same sense of shared experience that our parents had.

The Parliament of Man XI

2010-08-06T08:17:00.004+08:00

A few weeks ago, I applied for the post of Assistant Chair for the World Model United Nations (WorldMUN), to be held here in Singapore next year.

Yesterday, I attended the interview session by the Academic Directorate. It’s quite similar to the interview session I had when I attended the interview session when I applied for participation in Model UN conferences for the first time in NUS, just that it’s a group interview session this time round. General questions about the UN, and current affairs.

We discussed the relationship between the UN and regional organisations such as NATO (very luckily for me, as I happened to read up on UN-regional organisation relations as part of the preparation for the conference), the international politics of disaster relief, and other questions about our potential role as ambassadors of Singapore during the conference.

The key question in the UN-regional organisation relationship is whether regional organisations like NATO have surpassed or even replaced the UN in the processes of peacekeeping and peace enforcement.

To that question, my response was that different regional organisations are organised differently, have different roles and functions, and are at different levels of competence. For instance, NATO is much more empowered and effective than ASEAN. But more importantly, the internal decision-making and policy processes are different across different organisations. NATO for instance has a unified command structure and specific operational doctrines, while ASEAN relies on consensus building, which is less efficient and productive. Overall, to say that regional organisations have surpassed the UN would be a sweeping statement.

And of course, there are other issues to consider. First, the operational relationship between regional organisations and the UN. As certain functions of the UN are delegated to these regional organisations, such as the NATO-led International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), issues such as legitimacy and accountability become imperative.

Just before my interview, I read an article on the New York Times, "Rethinking the Afghan War’s What-If's," which is about a reassessment of the Afghan War. The article considered some counterfactual arguments, and at one point mentioned the delegation of responsibilities of rebuilding Afghanistan amongst the different states in the coalition. The result, the article argued, was that collective responsibility ironically became collective irresponsibility, as there was no centralised coordination between the coalition members’ activities. This again reveals the limits and challenges of a regional or multilateral approach, which has to be addressed.

Another question relating to the UN-regional organisation relationship is how we account for the varying degrees of competence across the different organisations. I thought the main reason could be that in organisations such as the EU, member states are willing to give up some of their state prerogatives, such as monetary and foreign policy for a overall regional policy, which states in other organisations are very reluctant to do due to the issue of sovereignty. But that reluctance has also to do with the lack of mutual trust between member states. Taking ASEAN as an example, when the Asian Financial Crisis broke out in 1997, the ASEAN member states reverted to self-help over a coherent regional policy. Therefore, the degree of success that the UN can derive from partnerships with regional organisations is also dependent on the degree of competence and unity within these regional organisations.

In other words, regionalisation and effective global governance can be, and are mutually reinforcing.

Meanwhile, I’ve done my best for the interview, now it’s the tense wait for the results…

The End of Civilisation as We Know It!

2010-08-03T15:02:00.003+08:00

The idea for the title comes from a British sitcom I enjoyed watching: Yes, Prime Minister.

It’s the catchphrase of one of the main characters, Sir Humphrey, who’s the Permanent Secretary to the Cabinet (in other words, a civil servant).

Whenever his interests or the interests of the civil service as a whole was threatened (like for example, when the PM suggested abolishing an entire department), he’ll retort:

That’ll be the end of civilisation as we know it!

That’s the self-proclaimed duty of the civil service: protecting “civilisation as we know it,” exemplified by the provision of essential services to the public and generally maintaining social order. It also professes to be motivated by a spirit of public service, but that was a notion which very quickly came to be questioned.

Which brings me to the issue to be discussed in this post: the state of the bureaucracy.

I was reading the readings for the Intro to Public Administration module, and one issue is the effects of civil service reform based on business-like norms and practices on the nature of the civil service itself. This was when the sitcom came to mind.

Yes, Prime Minister (and its prequel, Yes, Minister) was written in the 1980s, during the time of Mrs Thatcher as PM. Under her government, the self-proclaimed purpose of the civil service came under attack. The civil service was accused of inefficiency, of unresponsiveness, and of harbouring vested interests. Such attitudes towards the civil service was manifested by the negative portrayal of the civil service as personified by Sir Humphrey. As a result, the civil service underwent dramatic reform, exemplified by processes such as privatisation and by a shift towards target-orientation and efficiency.

However, such reforms brought about certain implications, most critical of which are the erosion of distinction between the public and the private sector, coupled by a diminishing role of the public sector, the diminishing public trust in the civil service as a result of decreased accountability, and an adverse change in the nature between the bureaucracy as service providers and the public as service recipients.

How did these effects come about?

The main reason is that these reforms at a fundamental level changed the relationship between the civil service and the citizenry. The diminished role of the civil service, coupled by the adoption of corporate-style practices reduced the relationship between the public service and the public to that of a seller-buyer relationship, and the delegation of service provision to the private sector under privatisation further exacerbates that seller-buyer relationship (due to the profit-motivation of the private sector), marginalising certain groups of people. In addition, the emphasis on “objective” or quantifiable targets reduced the quality of public service, due to a shift away from a people-centric orientation.

And how did this fetish for targets come about?

From the questioning of the civil service’s self-identity as “serving the public good.” As the altruistic or paternalistic attitudes of the bureaucracy is called into question, the motivations of civil servants also come to be perceived as subjective or even elitist. In the pursuit of objectivity, political leaders seek to rely on quantifiable indicators and verifiable targets to ensure that the bureaucracy serve the public interest (This reminds me of another one of Adam Curtis’ documentaries, The Trap).

Ironically, however, such an approach, instead of making the bureaucracy more accountable, has actually corroded the relationship between the bureaucracy and the public. This is because of two reasons. First, while the political executive sets empirical targets, no guidelines are set on how such targets are to be carried out. The wide discretion civil servants are allowed to exercise therefore result in malpractices. Second, while certain performance targets can be verified by quantitative means, there are other qualitative indicators of performance which are important, but are ignored simply because they cannot be verified, and also because of the prevailing scepticism towards the “altruistic” motives of bureaucrats.

Which reminds me of Singapore’s civil service now, to some extent.

Well, Sir Humphrey as the model civil servant is certainly untrue, but can we say the same of his warning of “the end of civilisation as we know it”?

The State of History

2010-07-29T20:57:00.005+08:00

Today was the first time since the end of the last semester that I returned to campus. I went back, partly to do some reading, but also to attend a briefing for year 2 and 3 students by the History department on planning module choices.

Though I’ve already planned the modules by myself, I thought it’ll still be meaningful to listen to the advice they have for us, even if they were ultimately predictable.

The briefing as a whole was alright, but there was one episode that got me thinking.

During the Q and A session, one commented on the relative lack of choice of modules on European history, in contrast to the variety of modules on East Asian and Southeast Asian history. It was clear that his interest area was in European history, and he was disappointed by the apparent inability to specialise in that field.

The response by the profs were frank indeed (harsh, those who sympathised with the student might say). First, the shortage of teaching staff able to cover those modules. Second, the desire by the university administration to develop a niche in Asian scholarship, third, the advantage Singapore enjoys with its geographical proximity to Asia relative to Europe (in terms of relevance, availability of primary source material), and last of all, that the rise of India and China creates an impetus for a relative shift in focus.

I can’t agree more. Indeed, contemporary Europe isn’t exactly a region of interest anymore. But then again, I also have to agree that European history can be, and is, exciting.

It’s still important to understand Europe, of course. For a start, part of the history of Asia is about its interaction with Europe. Second, many intellectual movements and ideologies have their origins in Europe. Third, the EU is still actively involved in international affairs, even if it’s much less assertive relative to the US.

But, given this interpretation of the importance of European history, this brings me to another point: that another trend is to look at things from a global perspective (yes, it’s GMUN again).

We no longer look at Europe as a isolated region, the focus is now on Europe’s relationship with the rest of the world, and in the case of NUS, with Asia.

And personally, while European history is exciting, East Asian and Southeast Asian history is just as exciting, and with its complexity, more challenging and academically satisfying as well.

Between the Past and the Present

2010-07-27T21:49:00.003+08:00

The title could have alternatively been:

The Parliament of Man XI

but that would not have captured the essence of this post.

This post was inspired by two things: one, a documentary entitled The Living Dead by Adam Curtis, and two, my research for GMUN.

Today I started my preparation for the new semester, which also includes my research for GMUN. Part of the research on my topic, which was on the role of education in fostering multicultural awareness and global citizenship, was on researching on the issue of the “uses and abuses of History,” which gave me some thoughts on how we perceive the past and relate it to the present…

And also the thought that I probably got allocated that committee because I’m a History student.

The first question to address is obviously, “what is the relationship between History and the inculcation of pride?”

One answer is that the invocation of the past can allow societies to foster and/or consolidate certain values, or to inspire society with an idealised vision of the past as the model for the future.

However, that ideal use of History is also problematic. For while it inspires, it also entraps.

For a start, such a process of invoking the past is a selective treatment of history, a history as defined by the elites and leaders of that society. While it can provide a source of pride, it is also a means by which elites can legitimise certain policies, by linking their specific rationales with the values of the past as imagined by the elites, and also by tracing a continuity between that imagined past and the present.

WW2 is the classic example of such a treatment of history. Or national myths.

Secondly, what about the parts of the past that do not fit in that vision of history?

In many societies, there are groups that did not share the view of history as imagined by the majority. For these groups, invoking the past also meant invoking the memories of the ambivalent or tortuous relationships between these groups and the rest of society. Likewise, the same issue can also apply to groups between countries as well as within countries.

This is the key challenge posed to me by the GMUN topic. While the teaching of history can instil inter-cultural understanding and common knowledge, how can we deal with such memories of ambivalence, or of alienation and confrontation?

Thirdly, there exists a tension between the past and the present. As mentioned earlier, the relationship between history and policy is that present policies are sometimes implemented to invoke the ideal conception of the past (like for example, Britain when it was still “Great”), but the changes in the situation can create a disconnect between the romantic image of the past, and the realities of the present.

This is the entrapping quality of the past: societies can be trapped between the past and the present… resulting in an illusory quality of pride, illusory because there no longer exists any continuity between the past and the present.

And museums then become the tombs of the past, existing only to haunt society of that break in historical continuity.

Which also was perhaps why I felt strange when I visited the Imperial War Museum back in February this year for LIMUN, as I felt that the Britain I visited is obviously different from the one as portrayed by the museum.

Last of all, what about the tension between the different treatments of the same past by different countries? The treatment of WW2 by China and Japan would be the classic example.

What if, as in the case between China and Japan, that one society wants to avoid the past in favour of the future, whereas the other holds on to that past? How would intercultural dialogue be implemented, given the pre-requisite of both countries having more or less a shared view of the past?

Ultimately, history is prone to abuse, either ignored, or exploited, but both to suit the needs of elites or leaders.

But then again, all histories are based on a plot, and that plot tends to get re-written in the spirit of the time. The disconnect between the past and present, while jarring, can also be transient.

The Start of a New Semester

2010-07-22T19:35:00.003+08:00

The vacation is about to come to an end, and finally, after a very, very long period of hiatus, a new post for the blog.

The long vacation has been pretty smooth, though it did get pretty boring at times. Much time was spent reading, and on my model kits.

Then there was the return to camp for a mobilisation briefing and a technical recall exercise, which, (in addition to feeling really weird wearing the old SAF uniform and looking like an old veteran) was an opportunity to meet my old friends in my NS days…

At the same time, while preparing for the new semester, some of my friends have since graduated. Well, a few more years to go before my turn, and it is sure to be a bittersweet experience.

I wish them all the best in their future endeavours.

So, the modules I’ve secured thus far:

HY3248	People’s Republic of China
PS2250	International Politics of Southeast Asia
PS2240	Introduction to Public Administration

This new semester will be a much more challenging one than the previous semester. Extra workload and challenging modules, let’s hope things go pretty smoothly when coupled with due diligence.

Meanwhile, there’s another MUN on its way: GMUN!

Promoting multicultural awareness and global citizenship through education is a fine committee topic by itself, though not my favorite (I’ll have enjoyed doing security issues more).

The trouble is, I’ll be representing a really, really obscure country (Sao Tome and Principe)… It’s perhaps not that problematic, since small countries have more flexibility, though I don’t know how much that counts when small countries also have the problem of not being heard on the international platform.

That’s all for now. Looking forward to an exciting new academic year!

Balance Between Work and Play

2010-06-25T21:53:00.002+08:00

I few days ago I had dinner with a few friends.

We talked about many things, but what got me thinking was when we talked about what has happened to our JC since we left.

Specifically, we talked about the status of the CCAs back there. And apparently, things aren’t positive.

To some extent we too felt the pressure in our year. A new climate in the college, along with a shift in priorities led to many changes in the CCA culture, raising concerns.

I don’t know exactly what happened since we graduated, but it’s not unsafe to assume that things have become much more drastic, which I somewhat detected, having realised there were no representatives from our JC in SMUN earlier this month.

We then discussed, in retrospect, the relevance of CCAs in student life. One comment was that given the constraints of JC life, priority in studies would have been more prudent, and CCAs would be better if taken up during university instead. Besides, it was argued, CCAs do not constitute part of entry requirements in any case, and all would come to naught if one failed to gain entry into university at all.

To some extent I agreed. But then again, I thought, what about the notion of balance? What is student life without enrichment? And isn’t it against the spirit of enrichment if results were seen as everything, with no consideration for the value of experience?

And besides, if the principle of balance between work and play isn’t inculcated before varsity life, then when, given that there’s no one in university who will tell you what to do, or what not to do?

Personally, I am thankful for my CCA experience in JC, for it did contribute to my preparation for varsity life.

And my CCA experience in university has also contributed much to enriching and enlivening of my varsity life.

GM Sniper Complete

2010-06-22T18:17:00.002+08:00

Finally, after 3 days of work, I’ve completed my GM Sniper kit with the pixelated camouflage scheme (refer to the previous post, Work-in-Progress).

I am very satisfied with the results, though I did make a couple of mistakes here and there. For a start, I couldn’t replicate the SAF camo scheme, as I chose the wrong colours… and the texture on the sniper rifle was a bit wierd (but I could repaint it in future)…

I also had trouble with decals, as always. Looks like the decal setting solution and softener are the next items in my shopping list.

Nonetheless, the pixelated camo scheme was a great success. Achieving it involved a very time-consuming process which took 2 days:

My eyes really hurt after peeling away all the masking tape.

Anyway, here’s the final product:

That’s one successful and satisfying project, with many more to follow…

Work-in-Progress

2010-06-20T06:49:00.002+08:00

I realised I’ve not been posting for quite a while since SMUN 2010. Well, partly because there’s nothing to write about. This vacation, with the exception of SMUN, is like any other: reading, and generally taking a break. And the weekly tuition class, with which I get some income to indulge in my pretty expensive hobby.

So today, I thought I could post a WIP (Work-in-Progress) of mine:

Bandai Master Grade 1/100 Scale RGM-79(G) GM Sniper. I fell in love with the sniper rifle on first sight, which was why I bought it. Not to mention it’s the GSS now, and I got a nice 20% discount.

Building it was easy. It’s just that it’s pretty plain without painting, not to mention that it’s in a strange kind of green:

Here’s the assembled and unpainted model, with the visor (in clear green-blue plastic) masked in preparation for painting.

How do I intend to paint it? Following the standard colour scheme was too boring, and the traditional camouflage patterns were a bit old-fashioned. So I’m going to try this:

The new Singapore Armed Forces (SAF) camouflage scheme. Following the development of “digital camouflage” by the US military, many countries, including Singapore, have adopted the pixelated camouflage pattern in their combat uniforms.

Since the GM Sniper belongs to the “future,” it would be logical to adopt this new scheme, since traditional camouflage would be outdated, and hence seem anachronistic (No offense to the master modellers who create the zimmerit effect on their gunpla for that WW2 German tank look, though).

One thing’s for sure though. It’s going to take ages to do. Just the masking will be a challenge.

Nonetheless, it’s a challenge I’ll gladly take up.

The Parliament of Man X

2010-06-05T11:59:00.002+08:00

SMUN 2010 came to an end yesterday evening, after 4 days of meaningful debate.

It was a great success, and all of us in the Secretariat can’t help but feel a little sad that it has come to an end.

Nevertheless, all good things must come to an end, and hopefully, I might once again participate in SMUN 2011.

And certainly, it was great that I’ve had the experience of working together with people who are truly passionate about what they do. For that, kudos to the Secretary-General, the Conference Manager, my fellow chairs, the Directors of the Organising Committee, and the Secretariat Staff.

The preparations, and chair training sessions have all been part of the experience, which were very memorable indeed.

The committee sessions at the 4th Committee (GA4) have also been exciting and meaningful.

That’s myself and my fellow chair at the dais.

The committee started off with discussion of Topic A, which was the Political and Economic Challenges of Non-Self-Governing Territories, and several interesting (and strange) ideas were thrown up, such as “objective education,” whatever that means.

When the committee was tasked to formulate a crisis resolution (which was to create a plan for the reconstruction of North Korea’s political system after a Second Korean War), the whole committee got involved. That committee session has had to be the most intense one I’ve seen in my experiences with MUN.

To top it off, that crisis resolution was quickly formulated and passed, which allowed us to proceed with a resolution on Topic B (Adapting the Powers and Prerogatives of UN Peacekeeping Troops), which was also passed in the plenary session.

That goes to show how successful the committee was.

Overall, the performance and unity of the committee was very impressive, and highly commendable. I dare to say that GA4 is one of the best, if not the best, committee in the conference.

SMUN 2010 has been a memorable experience. Now I have one more MUN to prepare for, and I look forward to more conferences in the future.

Happy

2010-06-01T20:27:00.003+08:00

It is difficult to describe the sheer intensity of the sense of relief and happiness I felt when the exam results were released.

WK’s Exam Results for Semester 2, AY09-10

HY2207 (Struggle for Modern China)	A-
HY2220 (Korea in the 20th Century)	A-
HY2232 (From Samurai to Sony: History of Japan)	A
JS1101E (Intro to Japanese Studies)	A+
PS2245 (Southeast Asian Politics)	A+

CAP: 4.71

Considering that I missed lessons for LIMUN, didn’t do well for some papers, and wasn’t too confident about the exams, this was truly a pleasant surprise.

Though I can’t help but feel that I could have done better for HY2207… it was just a little disappointing, given the effort that Prof have put in for the class and throughout the semester.

Nevertheless, today’s results confirmed the need to maintain diligence in studies, and also to further motivate myself to study hard. The remaining semesters will only be more challenging…

Meanwhile, SMUN has officially begun. First day of debating was good, and looking forward to the remaining days of debate...

This is, for me, definitely the happiest week of the year.

Twenty Two

2010-05-20T22:11:00.004+08:00

Today’s my twenty-second birthday, and I am grateful for all the well wishes and greetings.

Today, in the spirit of reflection, is also an opportunity to think about the previous year, and expectations for the following years.

My 21st birthday was somewhat insignificant, the only gratifying thing being that I could finally return to studies after NS. Being 21 also didn’t strike me as particularly significant, even though being legally adult supposedly had its implications.

Probably the result of Singapore’s political and social system.

Now, at 22, things haven’t changed much. Still young, of course, but there is still something that most 22 year olds would be experiencing, with the exception of myself… and something that with the increase in age becomes increasingly imperative… in a sense.

But life while 21 was exciting, thanks to NUS. Studies was challenging but provided a great sense of satisfaction, and PSSOC has also provided enriching experiences.

Precisely the good things school life has to offer, and I am thankful for all the good experiences that I’ve had, with all my friends.

Hopefully, 22 and beyond would be just as fulfilling and enriching.

And hopefully, fulfill some of my unfulfilled wishes…

The Parliament of Man IX

2010-05-18T06:25:00.002+08:00

Wow, It’s already the ninth post for the Parliament of Man series. With more on the way.

Yesterday I had my first chair training session for SMUN 2010. It was the first time since the end of the exams I returned to campus, and the session started real late (8 to 10pm), but it was ultimately a fun experience.

We started off with some Q and A over the Rules of Procedure, which defines the process by which debate would be carried out. Our task as chairs is to preside over the conference based on the rules of procedure.

That was easy, and soon after we proceeded to the really fun part of the training. We had a simulated debate session, with some of us volunteering to be chairs, and the others as delegates. And troublesome delegates for that matter.

The appointed chairs presided over the simulated debate, which had no substantive (no topic), which kind of added to the fun as we had to improvise or simply go “blah blah blah.” But in addition to that, some of the delegates were also given cue cards to make life tough for the chairs, like forgetting to vote, voting twice, or being undiplomatic.

When it was my turn at the chairing, I too made some mistakes.

Of course, surely the real committee session won’t be that tough, but one thing I did learn from the training is to be more vigilant.

Looking forward to the next training session this Saturday. With time, surely everyone will be more prepared, and more seasoned as chairs and co-chairs.

Meanwhile, got to read through all the position papers that have been received from the delegates.

The Realisation of a Dream

2010-05-11T17:49:00.004+08:00

There are times when I wonder if people think my pastimes only revolve around reading and more reading.

While I certainly enjoy reading my history books, I do have another hobby, and with the acquisition of an airbrush set (the realisation of a long-held desire, hence the title), I thought I could share this hobby of mine: model kit building.

It’s an old hobby actually, starting all the way from my secondary school days. Until recently, all my models have been hand-painted, which was a slow process, and sometimes frustrating. Now with my airbrush, painting has become so much more satisfying.

Now, a recent work of mine:

Bandai HGUC 1/144 scale Geara Zulu. This is my first kit completed with the airbrush.

This is the model, completed and unpainted. I replaced the eye sticker with a red crystal (taken from my sis’ nail art set).

The model after painting. Since the design is clearly inspired by the Wehrmacht uniform of WW2, I used the same field grey for the main colour.

Decals and weathering. The weathering was a simple blackwash, to highlight the panel lines and create an aged look.

Total construction time: 4 days

That’s my hobby, and I might post new works from time to time.

On Writing Papers

2010-05-07T16:31:00.002+08:00

Yesterday, my friend and I had an interview with a prof.

We submitted a joint proposal for a conference (the details of which I decide to omit in this post), but being undergrads, we were called up for this interview session, to find out more about ourselves, and perhaps have some understanding of our motivation (or audacity) in our proposals.

Well, we were keenly aware of the limitations and realities that we face in our attempt, but yesterday’s discussion was ultimately enriching, for, as the title for this post alludes, we learnt a great deal about research and academia in general.

Though we were discussing these issues in the context of writing academic papers, I felt that the skills picked up that day could be just as useful for writing term papers, and perhaps, gain that elusive A+ grade.

So, what did I learn yesterday?

First, the process of selecting a research topic. We learnt that research begins with a process called the literature review, which involves an exhaustive reading of all the available literature on the topic. The purpose of doing so is to identity key issues of debate, and identity unexplored or underexplored areas, where the potential for research is the greatest.

However, it doesn’t end there. Next are the issues of practicality. Issues such as availability of sources and research material, and whether it is possible to reach meaningful conclusions. Only then is the research proposal drafted.

Second, key considerations in the research process, such as:

1. Methodology
2. Theories / concepts
3. Themes and sub-themes
4. Leading questions
5. Data collection

Actually, I did learn about all these earlier, courtesy of my Chinese History module. But yesterday’s interview certainly reinforced these ideas, and highlighted just how important these skills are for research.

Another reflection for this semester, and most certainly, meaningful lessons for the academic life that lies ahead…

Reflections of a Semester

2010-05-03T11:25:00.002+08:00

Another semester has come to an end. Now I just have to wait for the exam results to be released. Somewhat nervous when exam results comes to mind.

This semester has been exciting. Having spent it learning about East Asian history, I also have much reflection about the sensitivities involved in the study of the history of this region.

I guess the example of the Second World War would be the classic illustration of how acute such sensitivities just might be.

Both my Japanese Studies and Japanese History modules did not cover with depth the issue of Japan’s involvement in World War 2, much less the nature of the atrocities committed by the Japanese military during the war.

But the question that came to my mind was:

“Is it that difficult to talk about the war from Japan’s perspective?”

Personally, I felt there wasn’t any real obstacle to the objective analysis of Japanese militarism. In fact I wrote a paper on that topic. I guess what made it sensitive is that that part of history is still too closely intertwined with the present, much like how World War 2 continues to influence the imagination of Americans today.

Perhaps it’s because many of the issues come attached with labels, that make one wary of making those arguments. Much like what I learnt in Korean history, with labels like “communist sympathizer.”

Nonetheless, the fortunate thing is that the relative freedom of academia in Singapore does not preclude me for thinking about and articulating these arguments.

But all these issues pale in comparison to the issues discussed in Southeast Asian Politics, especially that of Thailand, where events continue to unfold as we undergo the module.

Different notions of democracy? Perhaps. But could “democracy” simply be a rallying point for something else? After all, can we call the money politics that defined Thai politics up to the 2006 coup democracy?

What what can we make of the current situation? I guess the current situation reflects the deep divide between the urban and rural populations, and this divide will only intensify given the severe alienation within society caused by the actions of the Red Shirts.

That’s my reflections for the semester. Looking forward to a new semester.

A History of Interaction and Contradiction

2010-04-11T20:07:00.003+08:00

Yesterday, I visited the Sun Yat-sen Nanyang Memorial Hall with my prof, and some classmates, as an enrichment field trip for my Chinese History module. Overall, it was a good experience, and I had several reflections about the interaction between Chinese and Singapore history.

As part of the preparation for the field trip, we were given a reading (which was optional) written by my prof about the Memorial Hall.

In summary, the reading was a critique of the underlying messages and motivations of the government in its renovation of Memorial Hall, as well as a critique of the notion of “Big Singapore,” a Singapore that through its connection with Chinese history, transcends its geographical and population limits.

But how were such connections made? And what motivated the government?

The connection was made by seeing the 1911 Revolution as the event that transformed China as a civilisation, associating the revolutionary movement as a movement of progress, hence by extension contributing to the transformation and progress of Singapore Chinese as a community.

More importantly, it emphasised the importance of the overseas Chinese (our grandfathers and grandmothers) in contributing to the revolution, and hence, Singapore’s role in the socio-cultural movement associated with 1911.

As I mentioned in a previous post, How a National Hero is Made, the government’s aim was to capitalise on the rise of China, as well as to be a mediator of cross-strait relations. Hence the attempt to re-establish its connection with Chinese history.

But why “re-establish?”

That’s because the Memorial Hall, as explained by the optional reading, represented a reversal of government policy. In the context of the cold war and communist China, the PAP government in the 60s and 70s marginalised Chinese cultural activism, as exemplified by its suppression of Chinese-medium education. Therefore, the attention on the Memorial Hall represented a turn (and a pretty sudden one) to embrace Chinese history.

And that was to have consequences.

The most important consequence was that a lack of identification to the Memorial Hall among Singaporeans became apparent. The public response towards the Memorial Hall was lukewarm at best. People simply could not see how it was relevant to them.

But why? Partly due to the fact that the government policy of marginalising Chinese education has severed the link between the Chinese community in Singapore with the history of China itself, and partly that the sudden reversal of policy, and the attempt to re-establish those links created a sense of alienation amongst the public. Perhaps the public felt it was too deliberate, too motivated by expedience indeed.

But it does reveal an important question:

What does the Memorial Hall represent? Chinese History or Singapore History?

I guess it is both. But beyond that, as alluded by my title for this post, it represented an interaction of the two histories. That interaction transcended time, by manifesting itself in different forms across time:

At one point it represented the role of the Chinese community in Singapore and their role in Chinese political history, and at another point it represented the history of a contradiction between the state’s simultaneous distancing and embrace of a greater Chinese historical heritage.

Debate on War, War by Debate

2010-04-05T11:35:00.002+08:00

Today’s Japanese Studies Tutorial was strangely intense. Partly because we touched on some pretty sensitive issues.

We were supposed to be talking about the nature of “Japanese culture,” but we ended up talking about the status of the Burakumin in Japan, and even more controversially, about the nature of the atomic bombings in 1945.

What exactly was the argument about?

We were sharing our opinions on a brochure about touring Hiroshima. When we started to question the intended audience of the brochure (a tourist brochure written in Japanese, with a notable de-emphasis on the war experience), a classmate wondered if a stigma existed within the Japanese population regarding the atomic bombing of Hiroshima.

That got the debate started. Another classmate disputed this view, saying that the collective memory of the atomic bombings is no longer as intense as it was 60 years ago.

The debate then hinged on the extent to which the Japanese population was aware of the extent of the damage caused by the atomic bombing. That was the point I made a remark, which to some extent I regretted making, for it only seemed to make the debate more confusing:

“Perhaps we’re making a false dichotomy here. There isn’t a real difference between the atomic bombings and conventional bombings.”

The class was understandably exercised. I had to shout “let me finish, let me finish” quite a couple of times, and still, I couldn’t quite (given the limited time) make clear my case.

What was the point I was trying to make?

The point was, perhaps we over-emphasised the atomic bombings, the reason being that we did not put the issue into historical perspective.

Two questions revolved around the decision to drop the atomic bombs. One, what motivated the US leadership in the decision. Two, whether the decision was a painful one (whether there was a moral dilemma involved).

I’m sure everyone’s aware, since we were all told the same story during secondary school History, that the decision to drop the bomb was to avoid the mass casualties following an invasion of the home islands of Japan. But that exposes a few questions:

Did the atomic bombs alone precipitate the Japanese surrender? Unlikely, since the invasion of Manchuria by the Soviet Red Army triggered even greater panic amongst the Japanese leadership than the atomic bombs did.

And to what extent did the bombs save lives? That to me is a pretty pointless counterfactual question that can never be proven.

We need to move beyond the “numbers game.” If one wants to argue that the atomic bombings did save both the US and Japan from horrendous casualties, one cannot compare how the number of lives lost with the number that would be lost, the latter which can never be truly ascertained.

What’s my take? One way would be to ask: “To what extent did the atom bombings affect the Japanese leadership? Did it undermine the militarists?” To some extent it did.

And to what extent did the atomic bombings pose a moral dilemma for the US leadership? From what I learnt in Japanese History lecture, not quite.

The thing to note is that the US was already bombing Japan heavily over the preceding years. Tokyo, for example, was literally fire-bombed to the ground, with casualty rates comparable to the atom bombings themselves.

Therefore, if there was a moral dilemma, it was the decision to carry out strategic bombing that posed a real dilemma, not so much the atom bombing.

Of course, one might rebut, but what about the radioactive nature of nuclear weapons? I would (and did) respond by arguing that such a perception has to be put into historical context.

Radiation poisonings, yes. Radiation burns, yes, I deny none of these. Higher rates of cancer? Perhaps. But Chernobyl-type contamination? If it didn’t happen, we cannot simply put the issue out of context by saying it might.

Ultimately, war is a sensitive issue to discuss in History. It is particularly tough when the line between over-emphasis and sanitisation is unclear. It is even worse when counterfactual arguments enter the scope of discussion.

Whatever the issues discussed, we should never deny that war is suffering for all caught up in them.