This assessment of Singapore’s unique geo-strategic situation is likely the fundamental reason why the PAP has been very vigorous in its efforts to mould Singapore into a sterling and efficient city-state. Looking at the transformation of our island from Independence to today, the success of such efforts is evident. This outstanding track record lends credence to the PAP’s claim that it is the most well-suited to provide Singapore with the necessary “good governance” essential for her survival. To most Singaporeans, especially the older generation, the PAP government is both credible and legitimate.

The recently concluded 2011 General Election, however, has seemed to highlight a growing sense of disenchantment with the incumbent party, juxtaposed against an emergent opposition which has mounted the largest electoral challenge since Independence. A slew of new opposition candidates, with outstanding credentials, have taken on the cause of challenging the mighty Goliath, striking a chord with many  Singaporeans—especially the younger generation—who feel increasingly alienated by the latter. In the process, the PAP’s share of the votes dipped to its lowest ever since Independence at 60.1% and more significantly, the opposition won a Group Representation Constituency (GRC) for the very first time in Singapore’s political history: Aljunied GRC.

I feel that the underlying reason for this erosion in the PAP’s monopoly of power is this—people are simply tired of the high-handedness and arrogance at which the party exhorts its ability to run the country. True, the PAP has done a lot for Singapore and Singaporeans do recognise that. However, the perceived incongruity between the PAP’s supposed brand of “good governance” and the current realities on the ground—increasing living costs, widening income disparity and the rapid influx of foreigners—has made many feel that the PAP has lost touch with the electorate. What more, by speaking as if it has the exclusive right to govern Singapore while continuing to be adamant about valid concerns facing Singaporeans, the PAP has risked sending out the wrong signal to Singaporeans à la Wee Shu Min—“please, get out of my elite uncaring face.”

Of course, many hot-button issues like living costs and immigration are extremely complex in nature and I am sure that the PAP did not intend to hurt Singaporeans. Rather, the negative impacts of certain government policies are an unfortunate trade-off for other ends. Nevertheless, this does not absolve the PAP from accountability and blame when its judgement misses its mark or when its priorities are muddled. Worse still, this should not be grounds for the PAP to shrug off and put down well-intentioned concerns, criticisms and suggestions.

Take the issue of the cost of Housing Development Board (HDB) apartments for instance. The Worker’s Party manifesto for the election called for pegging the prices of new HDB flats to median household income as a means to make HDB flats more affordable. While I shall not go into analysing the technical details of this proposal, I must say that I consider it a reasonable proposal and would not even have thought of using words like “irresponsible” to describe it, unlike a certain PAP Minister. The proposal may be technically unsound but I think that it is uncalled for to just shoot down well-meaning inputs that are addressing people’s concerns and instead, maintain that everything is fine as it is. Such refusal to acknowledge the concerns of the people is indeed recipe for frustration and resentment.

In fact, the pent-up frustration and grievances of Singaporeans have been so great as to compel Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong—as well as many other PAP candidates subsequently—to apologise to the electorate in the midst of the PAP’s electoral campaign. For the PAP to do something as unprecedented as this just reflects how strong voter sentiment was against the party. In his post-election message, PM Lee acknowledged that there had been “a fair amount of ventilation of frustration, grievances, unfulfilled aspirations” and that many voters have expressed “significant concerns, both on the issues and our approach to government” even if they have voted for the PAP.

I do not deny that the PAP has an outstanding track record, as well as diligent and committed members who have gone beyond the call of duty to serve their constituents and their nation. Their dedication is commendable and they are truly an embodiment of the selfless nature of public service. Nevertheless, the PAP should re-think its fundamental approach to government and, as PM Lee adds, engage “Singaporeans in the more difficult decisions and trade-offs which governing Singapore involves.” The PAP needs to communicate, engage and earn the trust of Singaporeans more than ever  in order to continue its brand of principled and pragmatic government, which has not only worked well for us in the past, but will probably do so too in the future.

Granted, the PAP of today enjoys reasonable support from its people, even after considering the resurgence of the opposition. But this is not immutable, as seen from its eroding share of votes. For the PAP government—or any other party for that matter who manages to form the government in the future—to earn the people’s support, it must not only fulfil the people’s material aspirations, but also what Francis Fukuyama terms in his seminal work “The End of History”, their “desire for recognition”. Only by according and respecting the people’s right to voice out their hopes and aspirations for their society can the government then earn the requisite mandate and legitimacy from the people.

Ultimately, the government cannot be an ivory tower. It must be a dialogue, not a didactic—all the more so in an era of a more educated, aware and assertive electorate. The PAP may be brilliant in terms of its technocratic ability, but it cannot continue its high-handed ways and expect the electorate to put up with it. It cannot be the case whereby the government says to the people: mind your own business while we get the job done—and only we are the ones who can get the job done. Instead, the government and the PAP needs to re-connect with Singaporeans, foster a more inclusive governing process and above all, learn to possess the humility to say sorry when things are not the way it should be.

It has been more than a decade and a half since Catherine Lim eloquently spoke of a “Great Affective Divide” between the government and the people. The time has never been better for the government to step down from its ivory tower and start to bridge this divide. After all, how can the PAP government secure our future when it has not secured our hearts?

Brown University Undergraduate Admissions 2009-2010

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Dear Mr. Gaarder,

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I am a young man from Singapore (slightly more than three years older than Sophie) writing to you to express my appreciation for penning such a wonderful book as Sophie’s World. In addition, I will like to add a word of thanks for the positive influence your book had on me.

I am a big fan of Sophie’s World. In fact, it is one of my all-time favorite books. Reading about Sophie’s lessons with the wise philosopher Alberto Knox as well as their journey to escape the seemingly omnipotent Albert Knag was certainly enriching and exhilarating.

I first got my hands on your book three years back. A classmate of mine had recommended it to me. It wasn’t exactly an easy read for me then; I had to spend quite some time mulling over certain confusing bits. Nevertheless, my experience of reading it was nothing short of epiphanic. Even today, the lessons which I have gleaned from Sophie’s journey towards understanding the world remain as fresh and as relevant as ever.

Throughout the story, Sophie had her inquiring mind constantly stoked by prodding questions from Alberto. I too had felt the same way. Your book had allowed me to rediscover my “faculty of wonder”—not only the intrinsic ability to be amazed by the world, but also the keen desire to find out more about this wonderful adventure called life. In essence, what I felt could be superbly summed up in the following quotation from the first chapter below:

Where does the world come from? [The note] said. I don’t know, Sophie thought. Surely nobody really knows. And yet—Sophie thought it was a fair question. For the first time in her life she felt it wasn’t right to live in the world without at least inquiring where it came from.

The importance of such a spirit of inquiry is indeed one of my key takeaways from your book. Had Sophie not been guided by Alberto to ponder about the world and the meaning of her existence, she would not have been able to escape from Albert Knag’s imagination. Likewise, if I do not attempt to understand the world and find my purpose in life, my existence will simply be a “bagatelle”, to use one of Alberto’s oft-spoken words. Life will be devoid of meaning if we merely spend it pursuing the rat race—a tremendous waste really.

For me personally, Sophie’s and Alberto’s existence as characters in a book that Albert Knag was writing also struck a chord. Just as they might be mere figments of Albert’s imagination, I sometimes felt like a small cog in a large machine too, as if my life was just defined by the exams I took and the grades I got—even our former education minister Mr. Tharman Shanmugaratnam admitted that our education system was “an exam meritocracy”.

Yet, reading your book has taught me that this cannot be an excuse to relinquish my love for learning. Despite their realization of their own tenuous existence, Sophie and Alberto sought to sneak away from Albert’s consciousness, rather than be resigned to their own fate. Similarly, if the school curriculum could not satisfy me, I should just pursue my intellectual interests on my own.

After all, there is a big mysterious world out there for me—for everyone—to explore. And I believe that regardless of our background, upbringing and culture, this chance to live a purposeful and meaningful life is one of the best privileges of being alive that we should all enjoy and share.

Indeed, as the Discovery Channel advertisement goes, “the world is just awesome”. Thank you, sir, for reminding me of this wonderful fact.

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Yours sincerely,

Eugene

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The author of this measly essay is one of the many applicants to Brown University for the class of 2014 who were rejected (i.e. not accepted or waitlisted). He is a tad disappointed but is absolutely not surprised at the decision.

Given the apparent triumph of the liberal democratic ideal, it will perhaps be interesting to consider whether such an “end of history” is applicable to my country, Singapore—a country long considered as an anomaly in the international political landscape, possessing Western levels of economic development but also a form of government oft-regarded by Western analysts as semi-democratic. Indeed, will Fukuyama prove to be prophetic with regard to the future political trajectory of Singapore, or will an alternative form of government emerge to undermine the central tenet of his thesis—that there is no other system of government available that can effectively challenge the model of liberal democracy?

Singapore’s unique form of government, which adopts liberal economic principles to achieve an unprecedented level of material prosperity while still retaining political dominance within a ruling elite, has often been defended on the basis of national survival. The necessity of such a form of government is a recurring theme in official rhetoric and is emphasised through the assertion that Western liberal democracy is not suitable for Singapore. What Singapore needs instead is “good governance” which “only the PAP can deliver”, in the words of Mr. K. Shanmugan, Singapore’s Minister for Law, from his editorial “Challenge on communication” in Petir, the PAP’s magazine. Essentially, he meant that Singapore needed a “strong leadership [that allows] for effective and speedy decision-making”—a sort of technocratic authoritarianism that emphasises competent government and the deliverance of economic wealth which has proven to be well-suited for Singapore’s “economic, social and geo-strategic situations.” As Fukuyama himself noted, “Singapore’s authoritarianism […] has been justified unapologetically, not just as a transitional arrangement, but as a system superior to liberal democracy.”

The efficacy of such a “Singapore Model” has been validated by the PAP’s continued electoral success since Singapore’s independence. For half a century and counting, Singaporeans have largely bought the PAP’s core selling-point: Accord the party the mandate the rule, stay within our “OB markers” and in return, we will provide you with the good life. On the international stage however, such a “Singapore Model” has drawn much flak due to the tightly-controlled political climate in the country. Nevertheless, the barbs have stung less in recent years as the ascendancy of China against a backdrop of a slight malaise in American power—the bastion of the Western liberal democratic order—has shown the world that technocratic authoritarianism may have a few key advantages over liberal democracy. In fact, in his book “Hot, Flat and Crowded”, Thomas Friedman has even called for America to be “China for a day”, in response to the inability for Washington to rise above partisan politics and implement politically difficult policies that are catered to America’s long-term interests. With the market-oriented “Asian authoritarianism” that Fukuyama pre-empted as a possible challenger to his thesis very much a real threat now, will it then be appropriate to speak of the “end of the end of history” at this juncture in time?

I believe not. While Fukuyama conceded that market-oriented authoritarianism may be more effective at delivering economic development due to its singular focus on growing the economy without the distraction of political pressures, he believed that it can never triumph over liberal democracy on one fundamental issue: satisfying “the most deep-seated and fundamental human longing”—the “desire for recognition”. An authoritarian government will be unable to completely satisfy such a desire, given the inequality in “recognition” between those ruled and those ruling. Thus, it is only natural for people under authoritarian governments to demand for democratic governments, even though such authoritarian governments may already have delivered a high level of material prosperity to them. This is because it is only a liberal democracy that is able to “recognise” all human beings universally, which as Fukuyama explains, is achieved “when the state grants its citizens rights and when citizens agree to abide by the state’s laws.” In other words, both the rulers and the ruled now mutually recognise each other, unlike under an authoritarian system. With this in mind, it can therefore be expected that Singapore, China and other market-oriented authoritarianisms will ultimately trend towards a liberal democracy in the future, as Francoist Spain and South Korea under General Park have done decades earlier.

However, the notion of culture may prove to be a constraint on such a “desire for recognition”. East Asia’s penchant for “group harmony”, which emphasises an adherence to “a single, stable source of authority” as Fukuyama describes, may in fact significantly negate such a desire. Thus, if culture is indeed destiny, the Confucian traditions that underlie much of East Asia will probably produce “empires of deference”—characterised by “the willing obedience of people to higher authority and their conformity to a rigid set of social norms”—rather than liberal democracies.

Nevertheless, I am inclined to support Fareed Zakaria’s scepticism regarding the all-pervasive power of culture. As he wrote in his article “Culture Is Destiny: A Conversation with Lee Kuan Yew” in Foreign Affairs, “under the impact of economic growth, technological change and social transformation, no culture has remained the same.” In short, “culture changes” and invoking culture as a convenient excuse to deny the inevitable can only be a tenuous proposition at best. Instead, as Fukuyama envisions, “Asia’s increasingly cosmopolitan and educated populations [will] continue to absorb Western ideas of universal and reciprocal recognition”. This, I believe, will catalyse the process of a paradigm shift in cultural attitudes in this part of the world, including Singapore. In fact, this process is already ongoing, as evident from the growing number of young Singaporeans becoming increasingly vocal in asserting their opinions about their society.

In conclusion, the essential question surrounding Singapore as well as the other market-oriented authoritarianisms is not whether we can reach the “end of history”, but rather when we can do so. The premise of national survival, high levels of material prosperity as well as the East Asian culture of “group harmony” cannot deter the fundamental “desire for recognition” in Man from manifesting. They are merely speed bumps along the pathway to the “end of history”, which Singapore will eventually achieve—slowly but surely. The accordance of full political liberties is an inevitability and it will be a journey that will define our country in the decades to come.

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Burma VJ is a documentary on the September 2007 demonstrations against the military junta in Myanmar, comprising mostly of footage shot by local undercover video journalists armed with just small handycams. Having watched it in its entirety on YouTube, I must say that it is a really inspiring yet haunting film.

To see how the Burmese monks and common people rose up against the repressive military junta through the intimate footage shot up close by these intrepid video journalists was indeed a rousing experience. One cannot help but to feel awed at the display of “people power”—the visceral ability of the masses to revolt non-violently against the injustice of their rulers.

Unfortunately, this sense of hope and inspiration one gets when watching the peaceful demonstrations vanishes as soon as the military junta started to crack down on the demonstrators, with some of them carted away in military trucks, perhaps never to be seen again. In addition, the shooting at point-blank of the Japanese photographer Kenji Nagai as well as the bloodied corpse of a badly-beaten monk—both caught on tape—served as gruesome and haunting reminders of the brutality of the Burmese military junta.

It is therefore understandable to feel a sense of despair at the end of the film, with the demonstrations brought to a halt and all hopes for change crushed—the Burmese having to live as caged birds once more as they had done for more than 40 years. It is indeed a pity, a tragedy.

But I still believe that the spirit of hope will continue to live on within the people, despite the failure of the uprising this time round. Hope can be brutally subdued, but it can never be completely extinguished. Big Brother is not immortal.

As “Joshua”, the narrator of the film and one of the covert video journalists said: “It is like something has been broken and cannot be repaired. But I’ll just go on with my job. Because we need to do it.”

This persistence, this resilience of the people, is what will ultimately triumph over oppression and cruelty. Because if the military junta doesn’t right its wrongs, the very next uprising may very well be brewing inside the hearts and minds of the Burmese.

History has shown us that it is possible for non-violent popular movements to topple dictatorial regimes—think the People Power Revolution in the Philippines and the “Autumn of Nations” in Eastern Europe. Let’s all hope that Burma can add to this list too in the future.

Meanwhile, Burma VJ has been announced as one of the fifteen films shortlisted to contest for the five nomination slots for “Best Documentary Feature” at the upcoming 82nd Academy Awards. I’d say it definitely deserved it.

After all, according to Section 17 of the Misuse of Drugs Act, if one is to possess controlled drugs above a certain threshold amount, he will be “presumed to have had that drug in possession for the purpose of trafficking” unless proven otherwise. And as we all know, the penalty for drug trafficking in Singapore is death.

Capital punishment is without doubt an extremely contentious issue. On one hand, it is an instrument for the maintenance of public safety, as well as a means to bring to justice the perpetrators of heinous crimes. Yet, on the other hand, it violates the individual’s right to live and may also be a disproportionate punishment for certain crimes.

Given this, I have to admit that my stand on capital punishment is very much akin to that of a fence-sitter. In my opinion, both sides do have valid arguments, which renders it difficult for me to come to a conclusive stand. I have no grounds to say that capital punishment should be abolished in its entirety in Singapore; likewise, I cannot say that it is the right thing to do too. Ultimately, it will have to be contingent on the context, for which each society will have to determine on its own.

However, I do have two main gripes related to the utilisation of the death penalty in Singapore with regard to drug trafficking, which is the crime that most of those executed in Singapore were convicted of. The first concerns the presumption of guilt clauses in the Misuse of Drugs Act. To quote the Amnesty International report, Singapore: The death penalty – A hidden toll of executions, published in 2004:

The Misuse of Drugs Act contains a series of presumptions which shift the burden of proof from the prosecution to the accused. This conflicts with the universally guaranteed right to be presumed innocent until proven guilty.

Granted, I know nuts about criminal law, but I do feel that the presumption of guilt isn’t fair to the accused. I have to agree with Amnesty International that this increases the likelihood of an innocent person being wrongly convicted.

Furthermore, in the Singapore Government’s response to the above report, it was mentioned that “the court will hear the evidence adduced by both the prosecution and defence, and base its judgement on the evidence presented and not merely because the presumption clause was invoked.” In that case, isn’t the presumption of guilt clause redundant?

Moving on, my second gripe is that the death penalty may be a disproportionate punishment for those drug mules who were forced by extenuating circumstances—poverty or being swindled by others—to traffic in drugs. In most cases, these drug mules are not the masterminds of the drug trade but just “expendable” people exploited to take the flak. To say that these people deserve death is therefore a tad too harsh in my opinion.

All in all, I do hope that our system of law regarding capital punishment can be tweaked to ensure that it becomes fairer at the very least. An over-handed and draconian manner of implementing capital punishment has certainly no place in a society that deems itself world-class; what more, it only serves to add additional fodder for the anti-establishment criticisms that our “gahmen” so disdains.

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The title of this post, “Disneyland with the Death Penalty”, was inspired from the Wired Magazine article of the same name by William Gibson.

Singapore, as commonly trumpeted by government rhetoric, is a slick, clean and safe city-state with ample opportunities for one to attain a good level of material well-being. This is something I cannot deny, given that both my parents are beneficiaries of “The Singapore Story”—the economic transformation of our little island that lifted many out of poverty into the middle-class within a single generation.

When I talk to my parents about their views towards Singapore, a sense of gratitude towards the government for their role in crafting Singapore’s economic success emerges as a recurring theme. While I too share their appreciation, I have to lament that in many ways, the Singaporean narrative has been laid siege by the historical baggage of this seemingly miraculous transformation.

Our economic success today is largely framed as the product of our government’s pragmatic leadership. Henceforth, a social compact between state and society has been perpetuated—in return for the continued provision of material prosperity, Singaporeans will allow the People’s Action Party (PAP) to be the dominant ruling party of the country. The result is a depoliticized society, one that is orderly and efficient definitely, but somewhat lacking in spirit and passion.

Catherine Lim, an eminent Singaporean writer, spoke of a “great affective divide” between the government, which has become synonymous with the country, and the people. Her diagnosis is spot-on.

When the National Day Parade comes around every year, I know that I am not the only one who feels a sort of restraint in proclaiming my love for my country—as if the words of the patriotic songs that go blaring ring hollow. It’s not that I despise the government; in fact, I do respect them for their hard work in running Singapore smoothly. Neither do I dislike Singapore (I sure don’t!); it’s just that my feelings for my country remain invariably muted.

It sure is hard for one to be passionate about Singapore. The national narrative is monopolized by the topic of economic development, preoccupied with the cold and impersonal pursuit of material prosperity. While my quote from Minister Mentor Lee may be taken slightly out of context from his original speech, the essence of it describes the issue at hand fittingly. We certainly cannot be a true nation when our social fabric is woven together mainly by the trappings of an affluent life.

This, I believe, is something that can be worked on.

I am just a young man out of high school—idealistic and perhaps with the naïve idea that I can change the world for the better. As such, I am not satisfied to be a mere cog in the machine, to call my home a place that is only intent on pursuing the rat race. This is why this issue is important to me; I want to anchor my stake in a society that I have a strong sense of attachment to, one that I can take pride in and derive meaning from.

More than just being the provider of the good life, Singapore needs to be capable of evoking within her people an organic and visceral sense of ownership. She needs to be a place that inspires us to be active stakeholders in society. We already do have a budding independent civil society; let it grow! To the government: trust the people and stop the “two steps forward, one step back” manner of liberalization. To the people: do not be afraid to stand up and play a proactive part in cultivating our society. There are already many among our midst doing so; it is certainly time to join in.

All in all, I do sincerely believe that Singapore can be a vibrant and dynamic society, forged together by the collective faith of the people in the nation. I am eager to play my part in achieving this aim and I definitely look forward to the day when Singapore, beyond the spotless infrastructure and sterling economic development, blossoms into a place where I can call home—a home that I love and feel loved in.

Indeed, for what is the head without the heart?