Air-Conditioned Nation

Essays about Singapore / Cherian George

Author: Cherian George (Page 6 of 6)

GE2011: THE CAMPAIGN

the lee hsien loong compact

If Singaporeans getting their fill of Opposition rallies deign to watch one video from the Other side, I recommend this one: Lee Hsien Loong’s speech by the Singapore River yesterday. Regardless of how much impact it has at the polls, this could go down as a landmark speech, because it potentially signals nothing less than a new compact, a recasting of the relationship between the PAP and the people.

Until now, the PAP has based its authority largely on what some scholars call “performance legitimacy”: we rule because we deliver. Of course, every regime must ultimately deliver or die (though there are some that dispense with both performance and legitimacy, prolonging their tenure through raw violence). Since no government can please all of the people all of the time, most democratic systems rely on a more resilient form of legitimacy: we rule because the people have given us the authority to.

Such moral legitimacy arising from having been democratically elected has always had some relevance for Singapore and the PAP, which is why our journeys to polling centres on Saturday are part of an unbroken tradition dating back to 1959. But despite the PAP’s record of consistently winning the support of the majority of Singaporeans through elections, it has been chary of highlighting the star on the national flag that stands for democracy. This is because the PAP has had some difficulty justifying Singapore’s hybrid system, which upholds democratic procedures but gives short shrift to civil liberties. Hence, the emphasis on performance legitimacy instead: to paraphrase Deng Xiaoping, who cares what colour the cat is, as long as it catches mice.

Yesterday’s speech suggests a subtle shift in this principle. It arises from the Prime Minister’s recognition that people are indeed bothered when the cat looks down its nose at all and sundry, giving bad-tempered snarls at anyone who dares to cross its path (even the owner who feeds it). To complicate matters further, it turns out that, no matter what its pedigree, the cat cannot catch every mas, I mean, mouse. Partly since the doors of the house are always open to a rodent-infested world, but also because the cat is only human (OK, time to leave the feline metaphor behind).

So, exit pure performance legitimacy, enter what we might call systemic legitimacy.

The new compact proposed by PM Lee doesn’t guarantee that a PAP government will always deliver, but assures a system that will self-correct when delivery fails. To summarise his points (gleaned from yesterday’s rally speech and his press conference on Monday):

• Exposure to the global economy has put Singapore on a rollercoaster that is playing havoc with planning. (Finance Minister Tharman Shanmugaratnam had described the new boom-bust pattern in this year’s Budget Speech.)

• The government acknowledges the problems this has caused for transport and housing, as well as other mistakes that can’t be blamed on external factors.

• Sorry will no longer be the hardest word. (And to lead from the front, the PM said it twice.) The PAP will take responsibility for mistakes, and learn from them.

• It promises to get many more decisions right than wrong (thus, the core of performance legitimacy is retained). For this, it needs a strong team elected by the people. Strong government with a decisive mandate is better for Singapore.

• The government will ensure that the political system remains open and contestable – recognising that moral legitimacy comes from free and fair elections. But it will continue to fight to win every contest.

• Finally, Singapore does not need a strong opposition to bring out the best in the PAP. Instead, PAP politicians will be driven by their internalised value system. They promise to be “acutely aware that they are servants and not masters, that they are accountable to the people”.

Now for implementation

While these principles are an improvement, the question is how they will be executed. In particular, how will the balance be struck with another established principle that the PM reiterated yesterday: the need, after debate, for a consensus, a conclusion, and decisive action; and the need to preserve the political system that allows for such governance.

Empowering an effective government with the capacity to carry out its mandate is certainly a key function of democratic elections. However, the problem with this principle as applied in Singapore is that it’s been used to justify forcing aside dissenters and denying citizens the information they need to participate fully in public life.

Accountability loses meaning when it is always applied on the terms of those who are being held to account. Consensus loses moral power when it’s achieved by muting those who differ.

Therefore, critical Singaporeans cannot be blamed for reserving judgment about the significance of the shift from performance legitimacy to systemic legitimacy. It all depends on how talk translates into action in the coming years.

Indeed, I myself would have brushed all this aside as mere election rhetoric, but for one point that caught my eye in PM Lee’s remarks over the past week. I’m not referring to how he distanced his government from Lee Kuan Yew’s fighting words (which is no doubt one of the main talking points from yesterday’s speech, along with his use of that magic word, “sorry”).

No, what I noted was the use of the future tense in his Monday press conference, when describing the new compact. Here it is, as quoted in The Straits Times:

“I think you want a government which has a strong mandate but at the same time is acutely aware that they are servants and not masters, that they are accountable to the people. Their duty is to do good for Singapore and not only look after the immediate concerns of voters but also to look after the long-term interests of the voters and their children.”

If he had then turned defensive and declared that the PAP had already delivered such a government, he would have lost me. Instead, he said:

“That’s the kind of government which we would like to be able to [form] from this election.”

The sub-text: there is room for improvement; my next government will embody these principles in a way that my previous ones did not.

For those of us still predisposed to hope, even against evidence that invites despair, PM Lee’s remarks this week invite us to believe his promise, that tomorrow may indeed be better than today.

 

* Apologies to those who commented on this blog post while it was hosted on Apple’s Mobile Me servers. Comments were lost when I belatedly transferred the content to a new host after Apple ended its Mobile Me service.

GE2011: NOMINATION DAY

IT’S ALL ABOUT ALJUNIED

As the Workers’ Party A-team addressed their ecstatic supporters from an upper floor of Deyi Secondary this afternoon, a nondescript sign below them read “LIGHTNING RISK ALERT”. It spoke more eloquently than the lightning-logo flags and placards wielded by hundreds of PAP supporters, of the storm brewing over Aljunied GRC.

You can bet that the ruling party will throw everything in its formidable arsenal at Low Thia Khiang and company. Equally, though, the raucous heckling that greeted every PAP candidate – even when Zainul Abidin Rasheed cheered “Majulah Singapura!” to try to shame WP supporters into gentlemanly conduct  – suggests that the WP isn’t about to be intimidated.

Singapore has had hot GRCs before but Aljunied 2011 shoots off the temperature scale. This isn’t because the Opposition necessarily have a better chance here and now than in Eunos GRC in 1988 (when the PAP scraped through by 1.8 points).

No, this one is special because never before has a contest so perfectly embodied the fundamental, irreconcilable tension in Singapore’s electoral politics.

Set aside the roughly 25 percent of voters at each end of the political spectrum – the partisans who will vote for the PAP and the Opposition irrespective of who’s standing and who’s won the debates. Nationally, it’s the middle 50 percent or so that determines the fate of Parliamentary seats. In the case of Aljunied GRC, we could be looking at a swing vote of around just 10 percent. These are the voters who will decide if the PAP gets a winning 58 percent share or a losing 48 percent share on 7 May.

In the absence of polling data, these figures are of course nothing more than an exercise in gut-feelism. But what’s more significant than the precise size of the swing voter population are the forces that may sway them one way or another.

Swing voters, I think, consider the PAP to be the natural party of government right now, on account of having a larger team of able, experienced and trustworthy administrators and a more detailed plan for Singapore than the Opposition. They may also acknowledge that the PAP includes a handful of truly outstanding individuals, who they’re glad are on the Singapore team (though most Singaporeans would not praise them too loudly, lest the PAP grow up proud and complacent; we are all Amy Chuas that way).

At the same time, swing voters believe it’s sensible to have checks and balances on PAP power, and that an effective Opposition presence in Parliament will improve governance. They’ve also noted that, lately, the best heavyweights in the Opposition ranks are certainly superior to the worst lightweights on the PAP side and probably better than the average PAP candidate. Given a choice, they would pick the former at the expense of the latter – but that choice is usually not available.

In most other contests in this and previous GEs, the choice offered to swing voters made it easier for them to decide one way or another. Those inclined to vote for the Opposition could tell themselves that, well, the PAP guys weren’t particularly likeable, so they deserve to be taken down a notch. Those leaning towards the PAP could silence the Opposition voice in their heads by saying that the Opposition candidates weren’t impressive, even after giving allowance to their underdog status.

Aljunied 2011 removes these excuses. On the one side is a PAP team that’s hard to dislike. A veteran former journalist, Zainul Abidin, who is genuinely popular and is being mentioned as a future Speaker of Parliament. An intriguing new candidate and possible future PM, Ong Ye Kung, who has spent quality time at the NTUC and shows a determination to work for workers. And an anchor minister, George Yeo, who has distinguished himself as one of Singapore’s best ever foreign ministers. In the last GE, Yeo was the first Cabinet Minister to call a halt to the mudslinging against James Gomez, and in these polls he has continued to take the high road, denying snipers the pleasure of accusing him of gutter politics. Today, he called the WP A-team “worthy opponents”.

On the WP side, too, is a team that defies all the stereotypes. Fly-by-night opportunists who are dormant between elections? Low Thia Khiang is known as a hardworking grassroots MP. And his decision to leave his safe seat in Hougang for the fight of his life confirms yet again his steely idealism. Low calibre? In the early 1980s, Lee Kuan Yew likened the Opposition leaders to DC3 propeller planes while the PAP’s were Boeing 707 jets. But in Chen Show Mao, the WP have a Dreamliner whose specifications match any high-flier in the PAP fleet. It’s as if, like diligent children in paternalistic Singapore, Low’s WP has taken note of every criticism the PAP has levelled at the Opposition and has now come back with an answer for everything.

Swing voters in Aljunied GRC must now feel the heat of the critical decision before them. It boils down to this twin conundrum:

Do they prize the goal of a stronger, better Opposition enough to sacrifice a set of outstanding present and potential PAP office holders, whose absence from government would be missed by Singaporeans?

Or do they treasure quality governance sufficiently to reject the worthiest set of Opposition candidates to have ever been offered to the electorate and whose victory would boost democratic politics?

The choice between good government and a strong opposition has been a perennial one. But never before has it been posed as starkly as now, in Aljunied GRC.

From now until 5 May, Singaporeans know which rallies promise the most lightning, thunder and cliff-hanging suspense. But, for swing voters across the island who’d feel internally conflicted by the above conundrum, I wouldn’t be surprised if they came away thinking: Aljunied? Exciting place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to vote there.

 

* Apologies to those who commented on this blog post while it was hosted on Apple’s Mobile Me servers. Comments were lost when I belatedly transferred the content to a new host after Apple ended its Mobile Me service.

GE2011: RUN-UP

SDP’S LIGHTNING-ROD POLITICS

Anyone watching party politics over the last couple of years would have seen the signs: the Singapore Democratic Party was heading for a comeback. Even if it didn’t ace the examination that is the General Elections, it was going to win the prize for most improved performance and mount a serious challenge for the Workers’ Party’s position at the head of the Opposition class.

The writing was on the wall. The SDP’s Facebook wall, that is. Plus its website, publications and videos, and its steady flow of events, together upending the stereotype of Opposition parties as hibernating in between elections. Set aside the question of whether you agree or disagree with the SDP’s mission or its messages. Even if few were listening and fewer were persuaded, the simple fact is that such a level of activity would not have been possible without a critical mass of people, talent and organisational ability.

With the GE less than two weeks ago, the even clearer sign of the SDP’s resurgence is the slate that it has put together. Following its dismal showings in the last three GEs, the SDP appeared unelectable. Chee Soon Juan’s brand of angry idealism may have helped place important issues such as freedom of expression on the agenda, but the electorate’s rebuff was unequivocal. Chee was rubbing middle-of-the-road swing voters the wrong way. They rejected the SDP wherever it stood. After GE 2006, it looked as if any heavyweight opposition wannabe would join the WP and avoid the SDP like the bird flu.

Yet, in the run-up to GE 2011, a surprising number of serious contenders have tied their immediate futures to Chee’s party. Clearly, they’ve seen new promise in the SDP. It’s also possible that they’ve found the WP too lacking in internal democracy. Low Thia Khiang and Sylvia Lim seem cautious to a fault, desperate to avoid any lightning rods that would expose the WP yet again to the explosions that greeted the more confrontational politics of J. B. Jeyaretnam, Francis Seow and Tang Liang Hong.

PAP ready to exploit any differences

The SDP’s new energy will generate interesting dynamics in the coming GE and beyond.

The ruling party will demand to know SDP candidates’ stand on their party leader, who it believes is a destructive force. The PAP will say that Chee has repeatedly broken the law in order to win for himself the attention of foreign human rights groups; that he has run down Singapore in international fora; and that his methods are rejected even by other Opposition leaders. Thus, the PAP will attempt to shake SDP candidates’ allegiance to Chee and divide the party.

The truth is, the SDP will have a tough time addressing this issue. Political novice Tan Jee Say took a swing at it in his introductory press conference, and scored what to Chee must have felt like an own goal. Tan said that Chee and the SDP had “changed”, which was of course tantamount to admitting that the vintage SDP hadn’t been doing things right.

Chee tried to kick the ball out of the net by blaming the media – who else – for the poor impression that Singaporeans had of him. It is one thing to claim that any shortcomings in press coverage played a decisive role in a close fight. That would be quite plausible. However, when you have polled some 15 percentage points behind the leading Opposition party, it strains credibility to claim that you’ve been misrepresented and misunderstood.

It’s also implying that a rather large chunk of Singaporeans are too dumb to see past government propaganda – not a clever tactic when you are asking for their votes. And it doesn’t explain why J. B. Jeyaretnam – who was given a far rougher ride by the PAP and the media – secured much higher support from the electorate than Chee ever has. As difficult as it is for Chee and his supporters to admit, a more realistic appraisal would have to conclude that his methods – from his early hunger strike, to heckling the prime minister, public protests and so on – have simply not connected with Singapore’s middle ground. And just as the customer is always right in business, it’s not good politics to say that so many Singaporeans have got it wrong.

Political cost of SDP’s activist strand

Chee has created a fundamental tension within the SDP that is both the source of its dynamism as well as the dynamite that could blow it up. On the one hand, he inherited a political party with the goal of winning seats in Parliament. On the other hand – perhaps as a result of his electoral failure and then disqualification – he has fashioned the SDP into a protest movement committed to extra-parliamentary struggle. So far, he has been more impactful in the latter mission than in the former.

Since progressive issues are not necessarily populist issues – take gay rights and capital punishment, for example – Chee’s willingness to look beyond votes in picking his battles has helped to broaden Singapore’s political debate. This activist strand, however, has exacted a heavy toll on his party’s ability to achieve its primary Parliamentary goals. His strategy of civil disobedience, in particular, has guaranteed his party front row seats in the government’s firing line. By refusing to work within laws it considers unjust, the SDP has lurched from one crisis to another.

Lately, the SDP has been relatively quiet on this front, so it is not surprising to see Tan Jee Say musing that Chee had changed.

A more illuminating explanation can be found in an in-depth interview with Chee by The Online Citizen in February.

In it, Chee maintains that democratic change would not come through elections alone. “If you read history… elections had to come as a result of change, it’s not a means of change,” he says. There is a role for civil disobedience, he adds – but it is a matter of timing. “You don’t try to do this before and when the elections are coming,” he notes, explaining that the run-up to a GE is instead a time to position the party for the election campaign. After an election, he says, would be the time for activists to pressure the ruling party to play by democratic rules, using such strategies as non-violent protest.

If Chee sticks to this playbook, we can expect to see the protest movement side of the SDP resurface after the polls. This time, though, there is a strong chance of a significant SDP presence in Parliament, as either elected or non-constituency MPs. There will be a Parliamentary SDP, perhaps led by Vincent Wijeysinghe, and the non-parliamentary activists led by its secretary general.

The record shows that Opposition MPs tend to be unwilling to jeopardise their hard-earned seats through reckless actions by their parties. It would not be surprising if SDP’s MPs or NCMPs are afflicted by this same bird-in-the-hand syndrome, and plead with Chee to stop thrashing about in the bush. It’s even less far fetched to predict that the PAP will overlook no opportunity to exploit the slightest schism and drive a wedge through the heart of the party. The PAP will demand to know whether those representing the new credible face of the party sympathise with Chee’s methods.

It wouldn’t be the first time that SDP has been divided by different perspectives on Chee. One of the main disagreements that led party founder Chiam See Tong to quit its top post in a huff was over Chee’s sacking by NUS and his subsequent hunger strike protest. Chiam disagreed with others in the leadership that the party should stand by Chee in his hour of need. Although subsequently characterised as a power-grab by an ungrateful and ambitious Chee, Chiam’s departure actually reflected fundamental differences over party strategy.

Since a one-party-two-systems position wouldn’t fly, the SDP will have two choices. Either its Parliamentary wing must be prepared to defend the actions of its leader and steel itself for the onslaught that will follow. Or, its leader must disavow civil disobedience – to save face, Chee could say that those methods have outlived their purpose and are no longer needed. Whichever tack is taken will shape Opposition politics for the next several years.

GE2011: THE PAP

MANAGING THE ELITE

The entry of PAP lookalikes into Opposition ranks could be a symptom of atrophy of
non-partisan spaces.

When the PAP wins the 2011 General Elections, the margin could be a stunning success (for example, 86 seats to 1, with 68 percent of the votes) or a slap in the face (let’s say 75-12; with 55 percent). Either way, one agenda item is bound to feature in the PAP’s GE post-mortem. The ruling party would have to review how the Opposition managed to steal into the Establishment and poach so many PAP lookalikes.

In my previous blogs, I noted that this development could be an early sign of the fracturing of Singapore’s monolithic elite, which would amount to a major conundrum for the PAP’s fourth generation leadership. Instead of an undivided Establishment under one roof, overseen by the coterie of men at the apex of the PAP pyramid, an increasing minority will challenge the leaders’ authority.

This is as natural as the tendency among lions and gorillas for would-be alpha males to try to oust the incumbent, or else strike out on their own. It’s about the normalisation of Singapore politics after decades of depoliticisation, and there is little the PAP can do about it.

However, individuals who want to break free from the PAP chain of command can be nudged in one of two directions. They may challenge the leadership through PAP factions or opposition parties; or they can pursue their goals through independent non-partisan institutions within the state and civil society.

That decision is not predestined. Among members of the Establishment, oppositionists are generally not born but made. Ultimately, such individuals just want to make a difference. Whether they choose to do it through the PAP, the opposition, or in-between non-partisan institutions will depend partly on how the PAP manages political space.

Two scenarios

To illustrate this dynamic, imagine a politically engaged member of the Establishment; let’s call him Citizen Kan. Kan has received an elite education and opportunities that are beyond what ordinary Singaporeans can even imagine. He has worked within the public sector or other Establishment institutions. He has seen the system up close and is now convinced it needs to be reformed.

Kan does not believe it can be done within the PAP government because he thinks he’ll lose his autonomy if he’s sucked into heart of the system. He knows the personal cost of challenging the status quo, but he is willing to take the risk because he cares passionately about Singapore.

Now, picture two alternative scenarios facing Kan. In Scenario 1 – call it the “Broad Church” Establishment – there are consistent signals from the government that it welcomes an engaged citizenry and alternative views. While nobody loves to be criticised, the government does a pretty admirable job of showing grace under fire. In this scenario, independent interest groups are empowered to contribute to policy making: they are given access to information and opportunities for meaningful consultation. The bridges between the government and society are progressively widened. Institutions that maintain those bridges – the media, universities, think tanks – are constantly being strengthened and encouraged to exercise independent professional judgment.

In Scenario 2 – the “Narrow Base” Establishment – government rhetoric about an inclusive society does not apply to politics. The prevailing ethos is: if you are not for us you are against us. When non-partisan individuals and groups express independent views too forcefully or too often for the government’s comfort, they are treated as political opponents and marginalised. Unobstructed government is seen as crucial for good governance, so anything that slows executive decision making is labelled as a threat. More and more aspects of government policy are treated as fundamental to the country’s survival; questioning these is seen as tantamount to being anti-Singapore. As for organisations that serve as custodians of the spaces connecting state and society, the government keeps them on the straight and narrow by intervening in their operations and staff decisions, thus stymying their development into independent institutions.

There was a time when Citizen Kan would have felt that the Establishment was heading towards the Broad Church scenario. This was the early 1990s, at the height of the PAP’s “openness and consultation” makeover. The space for non-partisan voices was expanding, through major public feedback exercises to chart national directions, and new institutions such as the Institute of Policy Studies. Kan may have viewed such developments with a certain amount of skepticism. But he was not cynical, so he was prepared to give the government the benefit of the doubt. He did not feel it necessary to defect to the other side. The wider, non-partisan Establishment held enough promise as a space within which to engage national issues.

Times have changed. Today, Kan and people like him are more likely to characterise Singapore as coming closer to the Narrow Base scenario of polarised politics. Cynical about the effectiveness of independent spaces to shape national policy, most disaffected members of the Establishment would simply retreat, opting to privatise their lives. If, however, one remained committed to the idea of making a difference, what used to be unthinkable would suddenly be a serious option: challenging the PAP leadership in the electoral battlefield.

The experiment with openness

This gradual shift in emphasis from Broad Church to Narrow Base was probably triggered by the 1991 General Elections. In the PAP’s worst performance to date, it lost four seats and saw its share of the popular vote slip to a historic low of 61 percent. Significantly, this rebuff at the polls came soon after the government had declared its intention to open up, and on the heels of a major liberalisation of censorship rules. Deputy PM Ong Teng Cheong said in the 1991 GE post-mortem that the PAP was paying the price of neglecting conservative heartlanders and pandering to English-educated liberals.

From then on, it became harder for the Broad Church to flower. When the writer Catherine Lim was warned in 1994 that she would be treated as a political opponent on account of her critical commentaries, it signalled a resurgence of the Narrow Base tendency. Consultative processes continued, in the form of Singapore 21 and other projects, but the PAP became less apologetic about making decisions on behalf of the silent majority without hindrance from the vocal minority. By the late 1990s, mutual suspicion had set in, with government feeling that the chattering classes did not want to understand it, while critics believed officials had stopped listening.

In hindsight, one wonders if the PAP miscalculated after the 1991 GE disappointment. It is certainly true that openness and consultation was never going to be a major concern of the average voter. As much as many liberals hate to admit it, they are in the numerical minority; most Singaporeans are politically conservative and care much more about economic benefits than political rights. That much was correct in the PAP’s post-1991 calculation: if it narrowed the political space in order to govern decisively, this would not cost many votes, and might even gain some.

However, this solution focused only on the demand side of electoral politics: what voters wanted. A successful electoral formula would also need to address the supply side: the flow of electable candidates to the various parties. And the supply side is extremely sensitive to whether alternative points of view are embraced. By failing to build on the hopefulness of the early 1990s and polarising democratic space, the PAP may have unwittingly nudged individuals into the Opposition who would otherwise have been quite happy to contribute within the non-partisan middle ground.

Rising to the challenge

Of course, even if this diagnosis is correct, there is no clearcut prescription. Liberals would argue that the solution for the PAP is obvious: open up more space for independent-minded Singaporeans so that they are not lost to the Opposition. Others, however, would counter that such a strategy would just encourage the repoliticisation of the Establishment – better to give everyone a good scare, so that only an extremely small and brave minority would defect to the Opposition. Hardliners may also claim that those who join the Opposition are no great loss, or that they are motivated by less than noble impulses (which is bound to be true in some cases).

There is no telling how such a debate will be resolved within the PAP leadership, post-GE.

But in searching for the right path, the writings of one respected Singaporean social scientist may be illuminating. According to him, Singapore needed the kind of political stability found in mature democracies. The key lay in the Establishment or “power elite” – that “informed and articulate” 1 percent of society that gives “ballast, continuity and purpose”.

Writing in 1964, he said that the problem with Asian countries was that leadership was being left to polarised political parties. They needed to develop a non-partisan Establishment. Comprising “civil servants, the professionals, business leaders, trade union leaders, writers, the church, the universities, and so on”, this group “transcends political affiliations”, he said.

This call for a thriving non-partisan and independent Establishment did not come from some woolly academic, but rather PAP founding father Goh Keng Swee, writing in the 10th anniversary publication of the party.

He warned that while a democratic system was easy to run when the economy was expanding, the real test would come in a crisis. “I do not believe we will survive this test unless an effective and intelligent non-party leadership of public opinion emerges such as has been achieved in the established democracies.”

“When you talk of public opinion, it is really the opinion of this group that matters, for they set the pace for the indifferent and inarticulate 99 percent,” he went on. “Further, debate and discussion among the group goes on vigorously and continuously, in books, in newspapers, radio, TV, etc. It is by this free and open debate that agreement of basic ends, and purpose is achieved in substantial sphere of national affairs.”

In deciding future strategy for the PAP, its leaders could do worse than to heed this voice from its past.

GE2011: THE PAP

MAPPING ESTABLISHMENT DISAFFECTION

 

These elections are marked by a surprising number of potential opposition candidates who are former public sector scholarship holders and officers of the government’s elite administrative service. They include confirmed opposition members Tan Jee Say, Benjamin Pwee, Tony Tan and Hazel Poa (H).

These moves draw attention to the fact that one of the biggest threats to PAP dominance – and the main political challenge facing the 4G leaders – is internal: the possible disintegration of the tight cohesion that has characterised Singapore’s establishment. What we’ve witnessed so far certainly doesn’t amount to that. The danger for the PAP lies instead in higher-level officials either challenging the CEC for control of the party (like PAP leftists did in the 1950s) or defecting to the opposition (like the Barisan Sosialis).

In the 1980s, former solicitor general Francis Seow (I) went all the way. The highest-level defector in post-independence Singapore was former president Devan Nair (F), but he did not attempt to lead any organised challenge. Former NTUC Income chief Tan Kin Lian (G) has also challenged the government verbally but without campaigning head-on against the PAP.

In recent times, high-level establishment figures who’ve expressed contrary views have respected existing lines of authority. Prominent examples include Ong Teng Cheong (A), who as president held a press conference to complain against the government’s treatment of his office; Cabinet minister Lim Boon Heng (B), who showed his sorrow over the decision to allow casinos; and former party chairman Toh Chin Chye (E), who was openly critical of the government from the backbenches.

Former mandarin Ngiam Tong Dow (C) has criticised the lack of original thinking in government; while ambassador-at-large Tommy Koh (D) has consistently shown moral courage by speaking up for disability rights, the arts and other issues that are within the government’s peripheral vision at best. While such public interventions by its own loyalists may annoy the government, they may be what’s needed to show others that the Establishment really is a “broad church” – persuading those with firm and independent convictions that they can change the system from within, thus moderating the temptation to defect.

GE2011: THE PAP

4G AND THE COMING DISCONTINUITY

Many users of mobile devices, I suspect, would have a hard time explaining the difference between 4G and 3G, even if they’ve already put 4G phones on their shopping lists. The rollout of new product versions can be downright dizzying for consumers.

The PAP’s introduction of its fourth generation leadership through the upcoming General Elections may be no less perplexing. Is PAP 4G a major upgrade or a routine enhancement? After all, this is not the first GE that’s been a labelled a “watershed” election. It’s not even the second or third. The PAP does GEs like Steve Jobs does Macworlds. Despite their regularity, each is pitched as an event of millennial significance: This is The Next Big Thing, we are told.

This year, though, I don’t just buy the “watershed” hype. I actually think the ruling party may be understating how big 4G is. This is going to be a paradigm shift… a game changer – insert your own cliché here, and you would be right.

This is only partly because the new generation of PAP leaders will have to forge their own bonds with a younger generation of Singaporeans. “They have different impulses, different ideas, different experiences,” said the prime minister of young voters. “Our duty is to make the party and its leadership relevant to this growing generation, sensitive to their aspirations and capable of mobilising them behind the steps that must be taken to make Singapore a better place for all.”

Addressing Singaporean electorate, he said, “You have got to know this young team, they have got to know you and you’ve all got to jell and build on what we have built…. And you have got seven to eight years to learn how to build up that team spirit – a Singaporean society that really cares for each other, not the kind of election slogans they give at these rallies.”

These statements would not be out of place in the current campaign. But they are actually three decades old. The first quote is from PM Lee Kuan Yew’s speech to the PAP Conference in 1982, the second from his Fullerton rally in the 1980 GE.

Changing voters, changing Establishment

Self-renewal has been the leitmotif of the PAP’s election messages for decades. This is not just in recognition of leaders’ advancing age, but also an acknowledgement that the electorate keeps changing from GE to GE: it gets more educated, more demanding and more desirous of citizen participation and government accountability. In most GEs over the past three decades, the polls have been framed as a watershed moment for inducting and establishing a new generation of leaders who will form a new compact with the new generation of Singaporeans.

So standard is the “watershed” line that it may have lost its effect. Yet, it has never been more apt as it is now in 2011. Like every election, this one is an opportunity to recast the relationship between state and society. In addition, however, the 4G leaders will find themselves facing a radically changing establishment.

In post-LKY Singapore, I predict Singapore’s elite will fracture, requiring of its leaders political skills that have not been needed since independence.

As any number of political scientists will tell us, elite dynamics are at least as important as grassroots people power in shaping political change. Cracks and alternative nodes within an elite give opposing forces a toehold and leverage as they scramble for power.

Until now, Singapore’s elite has been uniquely cohesive. Even the Communist Party of China displays more open contestation, more jostling for power and more leaks than the PAP. Here, the monolithic establishment keeps any differences within its tight circle. Its unity is a key reason for decisive PAP government and, to that extent, a major ingredient of Singapore’s success formula. But it is not natural.

Singapore’s 4G leaders will have to manage the transition to more a normal condition of open intra-elite contention.

Normalisation of politics

There are at least five reasons for this change. First, the sheer number of elites – including products of the scholarship system and other high level administrators – has been growing. Among them will be independent-minded, public-spirited individuals who will be willing to voice major disagreements with Cabinet, and even support or lead lobbies and factions. They won’t form the majority, but there will be enough of them to transform politics.

Second, the areas of potential disagreement will grow. Currently, the PAP argues that Singapore’s room for manoeuvre is so narrow that any intelligent, sincere person who puts his mind to policy questions would arrive at the same set of conclusions. Even if this is true now, it will be less so in the future, as Singapore and the world become more complex. For decades, the PAP managed to replace politics with technocratic administration. As questions of values and quality of life come to the fore, the tide will reverse and normal politics will return.

Third, the number of public sector appointments available for former public servants – such as directorships in government-linked companies – are not unlimited. This means that a growing number of establishment individuals will find themselves outside of the government’s sphere of influence. And some may not even value such appointments, since they would have already saved enough for a comfortable life thanks to high public sector salaries, or have enough private sector opportunities in Singapore and the region.

Fourth, it will get harder to wield the stick against internal dissenters. The last time the PAP had to deal with factions and defections was in the pre-independence era, when it could rely on the colonial authorities to forcibly neutralise the leftists. Up to the 1980s, the knuckleduster treatment was so routine that it could be applied with little political cost. In an age when more calibrated coercion has become the norm, any harsh crackdown on internal dissent is likely to backfire.

Last – but certainly not least – the 4G leaders will not be able to count on the PAP’s single most powerful centripetal force: its minister mentor. The party’s internal organisation was inspired by the communists and the Roman Catholic Church. The PAP without Lee Kuan Yew would be like the Vatican without the Pope. And, unlike the Vatican, which picks a new Pope when the old one passes, the place vacated by Lee cannot be refilled. Post-LKY, the leadership would never again be able to invoke his unique combination of charisma and fear.

The 2G and 3G leaders may witness the beginnings of this normalisation of elite politics. They will probably try to fight the symptoms. On the other hand, Chan Chun Sing, Heng Swee Keat, Ong Ye Kung, Tan Chuan Jin and Lawrence Wong will have to face the sea change head-on. And despite taking over one of the world’s most successful political parties, there is little in its troubleshooting guide to show these 4G leaders what to do.

Botch the process and the scenario of a PAP split can turn from whimsy to reality. Shepherd it adroitly, and the PAP can dominate another 50 years.

One may wonder whether a group of men cut from the same cloth as their predecessors can possibly succeed in reforming the party. History reveals enough precedents. Two of the biggest internal revolutions of late 20th century history – Deng Xiaoping’s in China and Mikhail Gorbachev’s in the Soviet Union – were mounted by products of the system, who inherited it and then transformed it.

The changes ahead for little Singapore are nowhere near as epic. But, by the standards of this stable city state, PAP 4G will mark an inflection point, and the next 10 years will be truly transformative.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MULTICULTURALISM

INTER-FAITH RELATIONS

 

Speech at the Community Leaders’ Conference 2010, organised by OnePeople.SG.

I must begin with an apology. I have been introduced with my academic credentials, which may give you the impression that I am an authority on the subject that I will be talking about. In fact, my academic specialisation has little to do with this topic. I will be speaking to you not as an expert, but as a fellow citizen and journalist. I publish a newspaper for children that is dedicated to what we call ‘values-driven journalism’. One of our key missions is the promotion of multi-culturalism. It’s in this context that I have had the opportunity to pay close attention to issues of integration.

As an observer and not an expert, I will share some thoughts about relations among religious communities in Singapore. Let me summarise what I’m going to say in three points before I elaborate on them. First, I believe that Singapore has a healthy environment for inter-faith relations, because we have arrived at a pragmatic set of working principles to manage these relations. Second, however, this formula does not protect us completely from friction; the arrangements that we have devised will continue to come under a certain amount of strain. Third, managing these strains is not just the government’s responsibility; it is everyone’s job. I will try to explain why it is so important that citizens, especially community leaders, take ownership of the inter-faith agenda.

Let me start by introducing you to Sam, a hypothetical Singaporean. There is probably no such thing as an average Singaporean, since we are such a diverse society, but imagine Sam to be representative in many ways. Incidentally, I have chosen the name ‘Sam’ for this character very deliberately. Sam could be the Chinese surname of a Taoist or Buddhist Singaporean. Or maybe Sam is short for Samsuddin, a Malay Muslim. He could be Samynathan, a Hindu. Or a Sikh named Samir Singh. Or Sam could be a short for Samuel, a Christian or Jew, or an agnostic. Of course, Sam could be a woman, Samantha or Samah or Samara. But that could get confusing, so with apologies to the female gender, let’s leave Sam as a man,
with a very beautiful and intelligent wife.

Sam has a religion (I’m not saying which, because what I’ll be talking about could probably refer to any of them), and over the years he has been taking his religion more seriously. He has realised that there is more to life than just material success, and he thinks his religion gives him and his family a moral compass, something higher to live for. Religion has also given Sam an identity and a sense of community, because when he meets up with his fellow believers, he feels comfortable, as if he belongs. Sam believes religion is a very personal matter. His attitude is, ‘live and let live’, and ‘mind your own business’.

So, Sam doesn’t really see the point of inter-faith dialogue. It even makes him feel a bit uncomfortable. He fears that inter-faith projects would open the door to others to pry into his life and try to influence his personal beliefs. Furthermore, Sam realises that different religious groups are not equal in power. Some have more resources or have better connections, or are more aggressive and mobilised; and some groups don’t mind their own business but try to change others. So, even though Sam is not naturally paranoid, he feels slightly threatened by the idea of inter-faith projects. He really would prefer to be left alone to do his own thing. Besides, Sam feels that inter-faith initiatives are a solution without a problem. He doesn’t really see the need for them because Singapore already seems to be managing fine.

And indeed, Singapore’s formula for managing religion has been quite robust. It has the following key pillars. First, we have freedom of religion; everyone can choose his or her own faith. As a result, people feel they can be themselves, and that the state will not discriminate against them based on their beliefs. Second, we are secular, but not in the sense that we regard religion as unimportant or an illegitimate part of public life. Instead, secularism in Singapore means that the state stays separate from religion and keeps a fair and equal distance apart from all religions. Third, the state protects religions from offence, even occasionally using censorship when there’s a danger of words and actions causing hurt. Fourth, there is an effort to encourage mutual respect, through observation of religious festivals in the media and schools, through regular dialogue among religious leaders and, of course, through the work of the Inter-Religious Organisation, OnePeople.sg and other such bodies.

Most Singaporeans recognise our record of inter-religious peace as one of the republic’s shining accomplishments. However, it is also clear that our current state of affairs is not without friction and frustration. We have probably all encountered some of these disputes in our lives, and occasionally they are ugly enough to make it into the national news. I know many Singaporeans who would like to think that the solution is just for everybody to be reasonable, live and let live and mind your own business. I actually don’t think it is so simple. Religion can never be totally privatised.

Let’s take the example of our hypothetical friend, Sam. Sam wants to mind his own business, but he cannot live in a bubble. He wants to bring up his children according to his religious values and he can control his environment at home (when the TV and computer are off) but outside and on the media, there are influences from people with different values, and he is not happy about all of them. His children are influenced by what they see and hear in school, on television, in shopping malls and so on. So what happens in the wider society affects his ability to raise his kids according to the values that he believes in. He relies on public space and public resources – the media, schools and so on – and these are vehicles for values that affect his family.

Furthermore, religious rituals and practices can never be completely confined to the grounds of one’s place of worship or home: they will spill out into the streets, void decks, parks and even work places, entering the consciousness of others and sometimes inconveniencing them or making them feel uneasy. It is difficult to resolve some of these disputes, because the resolution may involve adjustments on both sides. One may need to be considerate, while the other may need to be more tolerant. It’s easy to say things like ‘let’s meet half-way’, but in practical terms where is half-way? There is no formula for these things.

I think Singaporeans can do more to create a healthy environment for Sam and others like him to live. For too long, we have left it to government to handle such matters, perhaps because we think it’s something too sensitive and we’d better leave it to the authorities, or perhaps because it is just easier to be lazy. The problem with this vertical approach, reaching up to higher authorities (I mean government, not god), is that it doesn’t do much for building horizontal trust, that is, trust between citizens across religious divides.

Horizontal trust is important, because that is what helps us put things in perspective when we face provocations. If you think about it, most of the ugly incidents and disputes that have a religious dimension are not, by themselves, large or threatening. Religious insults, a blasphemous work of fiction, even the very sensitive issue of religious conversion – each act by itself is not powerful enough to do damage. And, these are almost always exceptions, and not the rule.

However, mistrust acts like a multiplier. We have a very human disagreement with another individual, and suddenly we see him as a representative of all that we fear in the other, and we see ourselves as having to stand up for our entire religious community. A relatively minor and isolated incident grows in our minds and plays on our fears; we then see them as symptoms of a much bigger threat and we treat each incident as if it were a skirmish in a battle that is part of a great war.

Usually, when we face provocative words, the text by itself is not explosive. It is the context of fear and suspicion that multiplies the effect of the words. We cannot control the text. But we can influence the context. Build  horizontal trust, and our society will become more resilient against the inevitable frictions and frustrations of living among people of different cultures.

This is why inter-faith efforts are so important. Although we want to keep our religious lives personal and private, we must also cultivate the public space, making it an environment that is tolerant and hospitable towards differences. Advocates of inter-faith work say that it’s not about trying to reconcile differences in theology or doctrine. It’s not about confronting one another. It’s about standing side by side, and cooperating in joint projects such as community work.

Each of us has multiple identities. We are simultaneously people of faith, and family members, and citizens and so on. Inter-faith projects to me are simply an opportunity to activate those parts of our identity that we share with people of other religions. We may disagree about religion, but we can agree that there are certain social problems in our community that needs fixing, so why not work together to solve them. We can do so as individuals, but it is even more powerful when religious organisations come together. The symbolic effect of seeing religious leaders come together is hugely important. In doing so, we won’t just address real social needs, we will also build the horizontal trust that protects our public life in Singapore as a place where people of all faiths can continue to feel at home.

 

BEING SINGAPOREAN

ACCIDENTAL HISTORIES

This article was contributed to the NDP09 website and published in The Straits Times on 9 August 2009.


I am an accidental Singaporean, born here through a quirk of fate. My father loved his hometown in Kerala, South India, and had had no intention of packing off to that British outpost in the east. In 1948, it was instead an older brother who had a ticket for Singapore. With just days to go before the voyage, that brother was struck by a bout of inertia and refused to budge. There was a paid one-way ticket and a packed trunk for the taking.

My father stepped forward, boarded the train to Madras, took the steamship Rajula across the Bay of Bengal, spent three weeks quarantined on St John’s Island along with other third class passengers, then landed at Clifford Pier. He returned to India to marry my mother, but Singapore was where they spent their entire working lives and where they raised their family, thanks to that snap decision my father took when he was 22 years old.

My wife has a different heritage, but is also an accidental Singaporean. Her grandmother and mother were living contentedly in Medan, Sumatra, as the Pacific War broke out. When Singapore fell to the Japanese, my wife’s grandmother picked up her only child and headed for the eye of the storm. The steely matriarch wanted to look for relatives that had gone incommunicado when the Japanese invaded. She and her daughter would remain in Singapore the rest of their lives.

As for my wife’s father, he was born in Singapore but was not supposed to stay. When he was nine, his father, heartbroken by the death of his wife, decided to return to his village. He would leave behind his older sons but he wanted to take his youngest – my wife’s father – with him.

As father and son were climbing the gangplank to the steamship departing Singapore (and it’s probably more than a flight of fancy to want to believe that this was the same vessel that brought my own father here), the boy turned tail, ran back down, planted himself back on the Singapore shore and declared that he would stay with his brothers.

Thus, through a set of spontaneous, unscripted events, my wife and I were born citizens of what must be the most totally planned city state in the history of human civilisation. Other Singaporeans have similar tales, adding multiple layers of irony to the country’s history. On National Day, there’s a natural desire to flatten and straighten those stories into a simple narrative, but I’m more fascinated by the twists and turns that got us here.

Souvenirs of a forgotten past



I collect antique maps partly because they remind me of our topsy-turvy heritage. My oldest map of Asia, a 17th century specimen, shows the Malayan peninsula (labeled Malacca) as a lumpy appendage – but no blob at its tip where Singapore should be. On a couple of later maps, including one from 1808, a misshapen Singapore is visible, but unnamed. The Singapore Strait is identified but not the island itself, indicating that the waters to our south were more noteworthy to European mapmakers than the land we now inhabit.

I have another map that identifies Singapore as part of the “Indian Empire”, a memento of the period from the late 19th century when the British administered Singapore via Calcutta.

Old newspapers are harder to find, but one that I bought from my favourite antique shop in Telok Ayer is more than 60 years old. The newspaper is in English and the address below the masthead, 14 Cecil Street, indicates that it came out of the one-time premises of my former employer, The Straits Times.

But, this is not ST. Well, not that ST. Its masthead reads, Syonan Times. The date is Tuesday May 19, 2602, which is 1942 in the Japanese calendar, for this is of course a copy of the propaganda rag of Occupied Singapore. Except that according to this newspaper, it is not Singapore but Syonan-to.

My late father used to collect stamps and some of his old Singapore stamps, framed on the wall next to my maps, continue the Singapore story. There are “Malaya Singapore” stamps bearing the likenesses of King George VI, who was on the throne when my father arrived on the island, and then Queen Elizabeth II.

A stamp from 1960 bears the Singapore flag and the words “National Day” and “June 3” – thoroughy confusing Singaporean children who believe that August 9 is the only National Day that Singaporeans have ever celebrated.



Nothing pre-ordained



A new book, Singapore: A 700-Year History, has just been written by eminent local historians Kwa Chong Guan, Derek Heng and Tan Tai Yong. It’s not at the bookshops yet, but my friend Kevin Tan has read a review copy and welcomes its fresh approach.

“You will not find a progressive narrative that sees Singapore’s history as an inexorable journey from its humble founding to its present destiny,” Tan writes in his review for The Straits Times. Instead, he says, the historians have taken a long view, showing how “Singapore and its population have had to struggle to respond to the shifting sands and changing winds of its environment and location”.

From this historical perspective, everything is tentative: “Nothing is taken for granted; nothing is pre-ordained and nothing is inevitable.”

I don’t know if this book will be a best-seller or if it will filter down to the teaching of social studies in school. However, it seems to fit my own sense of the accidental quality of being Singaporean. To appreciate this city is to understand the entrances and exits of empires and entrepreneurs, the myriad decisions of geopolitical strategists and humble fortune seekers, in war rooms, board rooms, ports and faraway villages, all putting their imprints on the way we are.

There are some who believe that more homogeneous and static societies make stronger nations. They envy countries of one race, one language, one religion. That, though, is a hopelessly outdated view, and not only because no such country exists. Today, with relentless globalisation, Singapore’s legacy as a confluence of cultural streams and historical forces is its greatest strength.

If countries had DNA, ours would show a degree of hybridity and adaptability that others can only wish for. It is a trait that allows us, instinctively, to see opportunity in change.

That DNA also makes us the least status-ridden society in Asia. We are relatively free of the feudalism that infects our immediate neighbours in Southeast Asia, less burdened by the distinctions of caste, credentials and connections that taint public life in India, and less consumed by the cult of wealth that rules the new China.

Thus, most Singaporeans would find it unconscionable if any family suffered extreme poverty to the extent of being homeless or denying the children an education. Equally, we do not tolerate the ostentatious shows of wealth that the elite elsewhere in Asia are used to flaunting.

As a society with a centuries-old heritage of physical and social mobility, we are developing an instinct for justice and fairness. Most Singaporeans cannot stomach the notion that some people deserve to be stuck at the bottom, and we get offended if the rich confuse their good fortune for entitlement.

I’m not saying that our positive national traits have deep roots. Whether or not we are able to nurture them depends partly on whether we recognise them as strengths, and even more on whether we believe that there is a “we” in the first place. It won’t happen if Singaporeans see themselves as nothing more than accidental co-inhabitants of an overcrowded place, secretly wishing that people who are different would become like them or just disappear. Instead, we need to treasure the gift that is society.

Our arrivals and those of our forefathers may have been impelled by economic need or war, or as impulsive as the decision of a young man who is suddenly offered a ticket and a trunk. As for being born Singaporean, the odds are something in the order of 0.05 percent.

Yet, there is more to the Singapore story than caprice and chance. However they got here, Singaporeans did not just sit back waiting for history to be made for them. Families and communities worked hard to make their lives better, and to improve the prospects for the next generation. Doing it in a multi-ethnic milieu posed special challenges, but only on very rare occasions was the friction explosive.

Thus, the legacy passed down to today’s Singaporeans isn’t one of random opportunism. It is a commitment – expressed formally in the Pledge but honoured mainly in practice – to turn this diverse collection of individuals into a society where we protect one another, help one another achieve our dreams, and work together to care for the nation we share.

There is nothing accidental about it.

POLITICS

TOLERATE POLITICAL DIVERSITY, TOO

 

A running theme in the story of Singapore has been the progressive embrace of diversity. Singapore in the 19th century was a city of tribes. Today, multi-racialism is treated as a national value. Even if racial prejudices linger, we know where our society should be heading: towards greater tolerance and understanding.

Similarly, Singapore’s religious diversity is increasingly celebrated at major national events. Singaporean secularism is not about banishing various religions from public view to preserve a myth of homogeneity, but about keeping the state insulated and equidistant from each faith.

Attitudes towards differences in individual ability have also shifted. The polarising obsession with exam-defined success is giving way gradually to a more rounded understanding of talent, recognising that a meritocratic society should appreciate different kinds of merit. One welcome result of this shift is that people with disabilities are today held up as part of the Singapore family in a way that you would not have witnessed 10 years ago.

Differences in wealth have become more pronounced. But, our society is resisting the feudal mindset that is all too prevalent through much of Asia. In Singapore, being rich does not confer a licence to abuse the poor. And, being poor does not mean limitless indignity: our social norms dictate that nobody here should be homeless or have to beg.

Behind these various social attitudes towards people who are different, there appears to be a widely shared belief in the principle of fairness, as well as the pragmatic attitude that every citizen ought to matter – if for no other reason than that are so few of us.

There is one area of life, however, that has yet to follow this national narrati

ve. Politics. Attitudes towards different political beliefs and practices remain immature and intolerant. Singaporeans seem not to have learnt from the way our society has handled diversity in other realms and become richer for it.

No group is spared this culture of intolerance. In some circles, joining an opposition party brands you as a dangerous element, and about as welcome in Singapore as dengue-bearing mosquitoes and H5N1-infected chickens. But, in other Singaporeans’ eyes, if you enter the ruling party’s ranks you must be a self-serving sell-out, consumed by ambition and craving patronage.

Work as a civil servant, and some will assume you must be rigid and reactionary, resistant to changing anything in Singapore. On the other hand, if you get involved with a civil society group, some will conclude that you must be mindlessly apeing the West and pushing agendas that are, at best, irrelevant and, at worst, destabilising.

It seems that the only escape from this careless stereotyping is to retreat entirely from public affairs. Abject apathy is the only ideological stand that is immune to Singaporeans’ political bigotry ¬– even though it is the most anti-social and the most deserving of criticism.

Of, course, the thing about stereotypes is that they are always grown from a grain of truth. It would not be hard to find an example or two who fit the mould of the opposition wild-man or the cravenly careerist People’s Action Party member. However, in dealing with ethnic diversity, Singaporeans are learning that it is wrong to apply racial stereotypes to entire communities. Perhaps, then, it is not too much to ask that we should stop imprisoning individuals of whatever political persuasion inside the cages in our mind.

Sometimes, these cages are recreated outside of our heads and built into the frameworks of actual politics: the PAP has fashioned rules of engagement that are premised on the assumption that dissenters are dangerous.

But, it does not stop there, because intolerance tends to be reciprocated. The resulting political culture may have hurt the PAP itself. There are many reasons for the chronic difficulty it faces in getting the ablest Singaporeans to serve in politics, but surely one of them is their reluctance to enter an arena that they perceive as lacking in civility.

In this regard, politicians could learn from religious leaders. Respectful inter-faith dialogue among leaders of the world’s major religions is not aimed at erasing doctrinal differences, but is instead largely motivated by self-preservation. Surrounded by secularism, astute religious leaders know that they cannot protect the communal interests of their respective faiths unless they protect the status of Religion as such.

If they do not build a culture of tolerance towards people of other faiths and collectively highlight the good that religion can do for society, the ground will slip away beneath them. Similarly, partisanship in politics needs to be tempered by a collective investment in shared civic values. If people who are engaged in public affairs from whatever angle sow intolerance instead, they will reap cynicism and apathy from the wider public. Nobody should be surprised when either bully talk by those with power or histrionics by those without leave the broad middle ground turned off.

In Singapore, the culture of political intolerance does not encourage youth engagement with public affairs. There is that well known fear of taking positions that can be construed as anti-government. But, there are also talented young people who feel embarrassed about joining the government, because their peers scorn such a path as lacking in idealism.

There is a practical reason why it is worth working for a culture of mutual respect between political outsiders and insiders. Chances are that both will prove equally vital to any major national enterprise. History shows us that societies do not make great strides by everyone marching along a single, predictable path, to the beat of a single drum. National independence movements, environmental successes or equal rights for women, for example, all depended on a mix people working for change within the system, and others pressing from the outside. Only in hindsight is it ever apparent which routes and methods are most productive, but invariably all have a part to play.
Singapore, facing its own challenges, would be foolish to put all its eggs in one basket. We need to judge people by their ability, passion and sincerity, not by the different paths they take.

The country needs many able men and women of conviction and conscience to continue joining government, because there is simply no better avenue to achieving large changes quickly. Partly as a result of the late 20th century turn away from big government, the public sector is not seen as an avenue for changing the world – despite having the greatest wherewithal to do so.

No other organisation has the resources and power of the state, and individuals who step forward to help the state use that power for society’s benefit deserve our support, not our contempt.

However, Singapore also needs some good people to join the opposition, as a long term insurance policy for the day it needs an alternative government. Theirs is a lonely enough path; they do not need stones thrown at them.

Not all worthy causes are vote-winners, though, so Singapore also needs talented civil society activists prepared to push on without any pretensions of winning power.

Then, there are those who prefer to pour their passion into the intangibles. Singaporeans – who are practically minded to a fault – should be glad of this, because history again tells us not to underestimate the importance of the poets, philosophers and public intellectuals. They can do a better job than any official scenario planner or strategist in highlighting inconvenient truths essential for the future.

Singaporeans have been accustomed to asking ourselves whether we can afford to tolerate political differences. Our experience in dealing with other types of difference – ethnic and class – should give us hope that we can try. Our complex and unclear future tells us we cannot afford not to.

This article was published in the Sunday Times on 10 August 2008. The People’s Action Party responded a week later in the letters pages of the Straits Times.

PAP’s RESPONSE



On political diversity

IN HIS article last Sunday, ‘Time to tolerate political diversity’, Mr Cherian George lamented the lack of political diversity in Singapore and alleged that this is because the ‘PAP has fashioned rules of engagement… premised on the assumption that dissenters are dangerous’.

This is exactly the ‘careless stereotyping’ of political practices Mr George deplores.

Singapore’s political system is evolving towards greater diversity and openness. The Government claims no monopoly of wisdom. We encourage people to express their views on national issues, whether for or against the Government. There are some limits, especially to safeguard basics like racial and religious harmony which are vital to Singapore’s existence. Free speech also cannot be a licence to defame or spread irresponsible untruths. This is how we have kept our public discourse civil, responsible and honest.

Within the party, the People’s Action Party (PAP) encourages a diversity of political views. It welcomes all who want to work with it to change Singapore for the better, including those who disagree with some PAP policies. It treats with respect opposition leaders like Mr Low Thia Khiang and Mr Chiam See Tong who uphold the Singapore system.

Citizens wishing to participate in the public discourse are free to enter politics and fight for their convictions, or to stay outside the ring as ‘poets, philosophers and public intellectuals’. Either way, they cannot be exempt from critical scrutiny, nor can they insist on their views prevailing.

Mr George suggests that political leaders learn from religious leaders in promoting greater diversity and tolerance. But this religious diversity and tolerance did not come about naturally. It is the result of the PAP Government’s deliberate nurturing and vigilant enforcement, through practices and laws tailored to our circumstances. Fortunately, the majority Chinese accept the coexistence of other religions, and this has made Singapore different from its neighbours.

One key difference between religion and politics is that religion is a personal choice of each individual, whereas politics concerns collective decisions impacting the lives and futures of all Singaporeans. On important political issues we cannot just agree to disagree, and treat all views as being equally valid. We have to debate the issues thoroughly, to reach a consensus and make the right choice for the country.

In a democracy, what the country should do is ultimately decided through the ballot, which settles which party has persuaded voters to support it and its policies. Having received the people’s mandate, the Government’s responsibility is to hear and consider all views, before deciding and acting in the best interests of the nation. This is what the PAP Government has done, and how it has delivered a better life for all citizens.

– 

Ho Peng Kee, 
2nd Organising Secretary
, People’s Action Party

CALIBRATED COERCION

Managing civil disobedience

 

My academic paper on the concept of calibrated coercion was first published as a Working Paper by Asia Research Institute, NUS. You may download the PDF file by clicking here. Below is an article applying these ideas in analysing Chee Soon Juan’s strategy of civil disobedience, published by the Straits Times, 10 October 2005, p. 19. The ensuing exchange with the government is also reproduced below.

THE ‘white elephants’ affair has resulted in a ‘stern warning’ to its unnamed perpetrator. After this case, people will be more careful to check that they do not accidentally flout the law, as the unfortunate Mahout of Buangkok appears to have done.

However, this is unlikely to be the last such case. The stern warning will not deter opposition activists who believe in deliberately breaking the law to make a political point. Their attempt to inject civil disobedience into Singapore’s body politic represents an intriguing challenge to the People’s Action Party’s ideological hold. It calls for deft handling. While thwarting a protest is easy for the authorities, the question is how much political capital they will have to spend in the process.

This is the real power of such campaigns. By deliberately but non-violently flouting laws that they deem unjust, opponents put the authorities in a fix.

The state could choose to close one eye, but this would diminish its authority and probably invite follow-up breaches until these are too large or too flagrant to be ignored. If the state responds with force against a peaceful protest, the activists can still try to claim the moral victory. They may succeed in convincing the wider public that the law in question – and the state’s power in general – is neither just nor moral, but instead backed by sheer force.

Thus, campaigns of civil disobedience test a state’s moral legitimacy, revealing whether its rule is based mainly on consent or on coercion.

Dr Chee Soon Juan has been dabbling with this strategy for some years, at least since 1998, when he spoke in public without a permit and landed up in prison. His new book, The Power Of Courage, promotes non-violent civil disobedience as an opposition strategy in Singapore.

The Government has responded that the rule of law must be respected. Home Affairs Minister Wong Kan Seng said that wilful law-breaking ‘regardless of whether you think it is a silly law or not … does violence to the rule of law’, even if the actions are peaceful.

While the principle of zero tolerance for law-breaking is straightforward, applying it will be a challenge. Civil disobedience will test a key element of PAP governance: its acumen in calibrating its use of force against political challengers, such that opponents are neutralised with minimum collateral damage.

This is not to deny the other – and much better-understood – sources of the PAP’s strength, namely its outstanding record in delivering the goods, its internal discipline and its ability to win genuine freely-given loyalty from the majority of Singaporeans.

But every state, by definition, also comprises instruments of force. And the intelligent use of force is no less a dimension of good governance than, say, an efficient bureaucracy or long-term urban planning.

Its calibrated approach to coercion may be one of the least appreciated of the PAP’s many skills. Indeed, stating it this way will probably provoke some incredulity. After all, even some of the PAP’s most ardent supporters think it is guilty of occasional overkill. PAP leaders themselves are not coy about their macho side. Mr Lee Kuan Yew talks of knuckledusters and nation-building with equal aplomb. If the PAP were to develop and market a computer game, it would be a cross between SimCity and Street Fighter.

Self-restraint

IMAGE aside, however, the facts show a government increasingly aware of the need to exercise self-restraint in its use of force. Yes, it has an array of repressive tools within easy reach. But, compared with other states that possess similar tools and are controlled by similarly strong-willed leaders, Singapore’s Government has been relatively judicious and sophisticated in their use.

The spectrum of coercive tools available to an authoritarian regime today ranges from political murders and disappearances, and torture and imprisonment without trial, to criminal prosecution, civil action, the banning of organisations, sabotaging opponents’ means of earning a living and character attacks through state-controlled media.

The most extreme of these tools have never been used in Singapore. And it is noteworthy that detention without trial, under the Internal Security Act, was used frequently in the 1960s and 1970s but has not been applied to non-violent political opponents in almost two decades.

As for criminal prosecutions, most of these have not involved jail terms. Dr Chee went to prison because he would not pay a fine. The state’s weapon of choice – defamation civil suits – similarly does not involve incarceration, though it can be devastating financially.

Some may argue that these distinctions are academic, as the PAP’s calibrated coercion is still coercive enough to neutralise the opposition. On the one hand, that is precisely the point being argued here: The PAP has developed into an art form the ability to suppress challenges with a fraction of the brutality employed by the most ruthless dictatorships, but with an effectiveness that more than matches them.

Still, the difference between physical torture and a lawsuit is hardly insignificant. To claim otherwise – to say that Singapore is like the Soviet Union of the past, or like Zimbabwe today – is to trivialise the suffering of dissidents in some of the most inhumane regimes of the modern era.

Furthermore, different tools have different secondary effects. That is why calibrated coercion is not only more ethical than unbridled repression, but also the smarter option for any regime interested in long-term consolidation rather than short-term plunder.

States that overplay their hand often find the excessive violence backfiring on them. It unleashes a moral outrage that opponents can harness to mobilise a hitherto-inert public behind their cause.

Tipping points

IN THE Philippines, the sight of opposition leader Benigno Aquino Jr, gunned down in cold blood on the tarmac of Manila International Airport in 1983, was the beginning of the end of the Ferdinand Marcos regime.

Indonesia, May 1998: The shooting of four student protesters was the tipping point that turned the Reformasi campaign against then-president Suharto into a full-blown revolution.

Malaysia’s Reformasi got a fillip from sensational images of Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim being snatched away under the Internal Security Act and then emerging from custody with a black eye, courtesy of the country’s police chief.

Mr Lee Kuan Yew would later comment that the Mahathir government erred tactically in using the ISA instead of a straightforward criminal charge – a rare hint that the calibration of coercion is a conscious policy, even if never enunciated.

One of the few political theorists to have analysed the cost of a state’s violence to the state itself was political philosopher Hannah Arendt.

In her pithy treatise On Violence, she rejected Mao Zedong’s oft-quoted dictum by arguing that while violence can flow from the barrel of a gun, power cannot.

Power corresponds to the human ability to act in concert; it belongs to a group and exists only as long as the group coheres.

‘Single men without others to support them never have enough power to use violence successfully,’ she wrote.

‘Even the totalitarian ruler, whose chief instrument of rule is torture, needs a power basis – the secret police and its net of informers … Where commands are no longer obeyed, the means of violence are of no use … Everything depends on the power behind the violence.’

Power is sustained by legitimacy, and legitimacy is what’s lost when violence is misapplied. ‘To substitute violence for power can bring victory, but the price is very high; for it is not only paid by the vanquished, it is also paid by the victor in terms of his own power,’ she said.

Therefore, even though violence, power and authority often appear together, they are not the same. Indeed, she added: ‘Power and violence are opposites; where one rules absolutely, the other is absent. Violence appears when power is in jeopardy, but left to its own course it ends in power’s disappearance.’

Arendt thus zoomed in on the counter-intuitive truth that run-of-the-mill dictators have failed to understand. As in so many other areas, the PAP belongs in a different league. It may have wielded mallets to smash assorted flies in the 1960s and 1970s, but since the mid-1980s it has been relatively self-restrained in the use of force.

This is why the Catherine Lim Affair was able to create such a stir in the mid-1990s, and is still talked about 10 years later, despite the fact that she was not arrested, exiled or ‘fixed’. Her books were still published and used as literature texts in government schools, so she was not even punished professionally.

Three decades ago, these less-calibrated means of coercion were more routine. A Singaporean from that period, transported through time to the present day, would be dumbfounded by the notion that the Catherine Lim Affair – which never got nastier than a verbal lashing – could be iconic of PAP intolerance towards dissent. He would have concluded, correctly, that the PAP had changed.

Our time-traveller would be wrong, however, if he assumed that the PAP had undergone a fundamental philosophical conversion towards liberal ideals. As Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong emphasised at his talk at the Foreign Correspondents Association last Thursday, it has not – and will not.

The change is instead at the level of methodology. By systematically shifting political controls behind the scenes – through legislation covering trade unions, universities, the press, religious groups and the legal profession – the PAP has pre-empted ugly confrontations with institutions that could challenge its authority.

Mixed blessing

THE contemporary scene of calibrated coercion is a mixed blessing for Singaporeans who want more freedom. There is certainly less cause for fear today than in the old days when coercion was more blunt. On the other hand, the PAP’s self-restraint gives its opponents less moral ammunition.

Controls are so seamlessly integrated into the system and coercion is so well calibrated that the average Singaporean can go through much of life without bumping into the hard edges of PAP authoritarianism. This is bad news for pro-democracy activists, who consequently have a tough time reminding Singaporeans that they should care about political liberalisation.

That is where Dr Chee’s strategy of civil disobedience comes in. It is a predictable response to the PAP’s success at calibrated coercion. It involves seeking out laws that may not enjoy great public support, and deliberately flouting them to provoke a forceful response. The use of force will ensure victory to the PAP, but the price of victory, to borrow Arendt’s words, will be ‘paid by the victor in terms of his own power’. The strategy turns the state’s monopoly of force against itself.

Other states have fallen into the trap when those at the top miscalculate, or when their functionaries – especially the police or army – get trigger-happy when putting down peaceful protests. There is little risk of the latter in Singapore, where uniformed services are highly disciplined and under firm civilian direction. The former scenario – political miscalculation – also seems unlikely.

However, it should be noted that a new and less experienced generation of ministers and permanent secretaries is taking charge. For them, there may be an urge to deal with challengers of any sort in the most expeditious manner, and the temptation to get their way through actual or threatened force may be irresistible. The alternative – the use of reason and debate – may seem too slow, too weak, especially when more decisive tools are at one’s fingertips.

The situation, in short, is dynamic. The Government can narrow the opportunities for effective civil disobedience by pro-actively amending regulations that are over-broad and difficult to defend intellectually to the ordinary Singaporean. Until then, the Chees of Singapore will continue to pressure those points in the law. The authorities will not give in; they will say no. But they will have to calibrate carefully how they say no.

The writer is an assistant professor at the School of Communication and Information, Nanyang Technological University, where he researches media and politics. This article is based on an academic paper on calibrated coercion, published in the Asia Research Institute’s working paper series, at www.ari.nus.edu.sg.

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