There are other contritbutions made but not included, and
should help to make the Singapore Story to develop further:
’Utopia or
dystopia ?’
by Catherine Lim
A nation of politically naive citizens can threaten Singapore’s
survival. It is time the Government teaches politics and
independent thinking to its people.
THE interested observer of the Singapore political scene cannot but
notice the emergence of a new model of People’s Action Party
governance. After 40 years of PAP rule, through the leadership of
two prime ministers and in the first year of the third, the
emerging model carries the strong endorsement of the past prime
ministers and is shaping into a blueprint for future
governance.
It is actually an updated version of the old model, to fit in with
the changing climate of the times. Basically, it has kept intact
the substance of the old model but dispensed with the style.
It continues to affirm the philosophy of PAP founding father Lee
Kuan Yew, which can be distilled into a few hard-headed
principles:
- The incorruptibility, dedication and self discipline of the
elected leaders;
- The primacy of the economic imperative for a tiny, resource-poor
island state in a ruthlessly competitive world;
- The absolute necessity of trust in the government-people
relationship.
But it has abandoned the style that Mr Lee had deemed necessary to
go with the stern principles - that is, an authoritarian,
no-nonsense manner which has little use for sentiment - and
actually opted for the exact opposite: an all-out effort to win the
people’s hearts through a friendly, patient, consultative
approach.
The change started with the Goh Chok Tong administration, which
declared its goal of creating a kinder, gentler society. But it was
left to new Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong - once perceived by the
people to be aloof and arrogant - to reinforce, consolidate and
complete the process.
In his constantly proclaimed aim to develop a caring, inclusive
society in which no one would be forgotten, PM Lee is easing into
an affable, witty and engaging style that has come as a surprise to
many Singaporeans. In the short time he has been in office, he has
established a pleasing camaraderie with young Singaporeans whom he
has singled out for special attention and nurturing.
The new model seeks to achieve a fine balance between the famed,
awesome PAP efficiency and a still-developing PAP amiability,
between the old habit of top-down decisions and the new practice of
seeking and welcoming bottom-up feedback, between hard pragmatism
and gentle empathy, between, in short, the constantly competing
claims of head and heart.
The recent Casino Debate is a good illustration of this striving
for balance. The new Prime Minister took great pains, after making
a decision in favour of the tough economic realities of today’s
world, to reassure critics that he would balance the decision with
the necessary measures to check, correct and prevent the social and
moral ills they had warned him about.
The handling of the Casino Issue is likely to be the modus operandi
for all future major issues: The Government will, in all sincerity
and goodwill, invite free and frank views from everyone (but firmly
turn down all suggestions of anything as raucous and messy as a
referendum or street demonstrations), consider the views carefully,
make its own decision, explain it with greatest care and patience,
and then make a rallying call for all to close ranks and move on in
a display, once more, of national unity.
There are two ways of looking at the new model of governance.
The first, that of the sceptics, says: Nothing has changed. The PAP
Government merely goes through the motions of consultation and
dialogue. It will never budge from the old tough Lee Kuan Yew
stance: Leave us to do our job, and do not make any trouble.
The second, that of the optimists, says: Everything has changed.
Never before has a Singapore leader so earnestly articulated the
need for a caring, inclusive society and reached out to so many
people with such warmth, sincerity and good humour.
The high visibility of the current Government-people amity should
not obscure the fact that the new model has a serious omission. It
has left out, rather conspicuously, something which one would have
thought vital to the proclaimed national goal of inclusiveness,
which ensures that that no one, even if he or she is in the
minority, is left out.
This missing element in the model is the need for a political
opening up, which should lead to a situation where political
freedom enables Singaporeans, at last, to enjoy the basic rights
taken for granted in other societies in the free world - such as
the right of free expression, assembly and demonstration.
The fact that only a minority of Singaporeans - those with a
tendency to be more vocal and contrarian - has agitated for these
rights, does not detract from their importance in an inclusive
model.
More than anything, these Singaporeans want to speak with their own
distinctive individual voices, without fear of reprisal. They want
to convince the Government that, far from being a disruptive force
in society, political freedom
will eventually lead to the development of a distinct Singaporean
identity and culture.
For at some stage, beyond the unavoidable cacophony and messiness
of diverse voices raised in vehement argument and debate, there
will emerge a new collective confidence that cannot but revitalise
and embolden the other domains of national life, in particular the
arts.
The arts often take their cue from their sister domain of political
expression. A government crackdown on dissident voices will result,
for instance, in self-censorship and a new cautiousness in theatre
or drama, whereas government relaxation of political controls will
see an enthusiastic exploration of hitherto taboo subjects.
Hence there is a close link between political freedom and the arts,
and by extension, between both and culture. Implicit in any discussion of whether there is a
Singaporean identity or a Singaporean culture (an
angst-filled question in the frequent bouts of collective
soul-searching by Singaporeans) there
is the understanding, therefore, of this role of political
freedom.
Implicit also is the understanding
that if Singapore culture is to be distinctive and unique, it must
have the freedom to develop spontaneously, in its own time, on its
own terms, like the super-organism which anthropologists say every
culture really is.
Hence, it is not the ersatz culture copied from the West, nor the
rojak culture cobbled from an arbitrary selection of cultural
products such as char kway teow, Singlish, the Merlion or the
Durian.
Identity, culture, national pride, a
sense of national belonging, the meaning of being Singaporean - it
would be extremely difficult to define any of these ideals without
at some point or other bringing up the part played by political
freedom.
In view of the importance of this opening up of society, loosening
of present strictures and removal of the infamous out-of-bounds
markers, it is surprising that the matter has so little place in
the new model of governance.
At no time in the articulation of his goals for achieving
the society he desires for Singaporeans, has Prime Minister Lee
made any significant mention of a systematic development of this
arguably all-important political identity without which there can
be no true national identity and no true culture.
The reason for the reluctance may lie in a certain mindset
resulting from an adherence to one of the inviolable principles
laid down in the Lee Kuan Yew philosophy - namely, an unshakable
bond of trust between the Government and the people.
Mr Lee Kuan Yew crushed his critics because he saw all
criticism - whether from Singaporeans or foreigners, from
individuals or from organisations - as undermining the
people’s trust in the Government’s integrity and hence making it
more difficult for the leaders to do their job.
It is a distinctive PAP policy of pre-emption and
nipping-in-the-bud that has proved very effective.
It may be said that Mr Lee Kuan Yew has left a legacy of
almost pathological dislike of
the flamboyant theatrics, histrionics and fraudulence that the
Government has come to associate with those critics, especially
those in the Opposition, who have dared to challenge it
openly.
This stance was maintained through the Goh Chok Tong
administration, and is likely to continue in the present
administration of PM Lee, since allowing political freedom,
especially in the present times when the young have become bolder
and more vocal, could open the floodgates of a long, pent-up need
and unleash a torrent of criticism that would prove
unmanageable.
Between his adherence to traditional PAP practice, and his new
avowal to reach out to everyone in society, PM Lee cannot be in too
comfortable a position. His response so far has been to play down
the issue, tolerate it, or isolate it if possible. At the worst,
the Government could simply wait it out, politely listening and
explaining, but doing nothing.
The overall result of this response is that while the winds of
change are allowed to sweep through the corridors of business,
education, the arts, entertainment, etc, they bypass the political
domain, which continues to be in the doldrums.
But, ironically, the biggest wind of change, that is, the Prime
Minister’s whole-hearted effort to touch people by breaking down
all barriers of communication, may be the very thing to embolden
some rebels to protest against the greatest barrier of all - that
of political
suppression.
It would appear that having agitated for political change for so
long, they are not about to stop now. A new, younger, sophisticated, more exposed
electorate that likes to see itself as cosmopolitan, is making
clear that this desired change should be much more than the
concessions made so far, such as the setting up of the system of
Nominated Members of Parliament to allow for more dissenting voices
in Parliament.
And of course the change should be much, much more than the
patently ineffectual Speakers’ Corner, the derisory Bohemians’
Corner and the laughable bar-top dancing. After these experiments,
it is very unlikely that the Government will in the future offer
anything that can be even remotely construed as a token, a sop or a
joke.
The issue continues to be the most intractable problem on the
political scene, and may be the worse for not having the clear-cut,
unambiguous lines it had in the former Lee Kuan Yew regime.
While political dissent then was squashed unceremoniously, the new
dispensation, in keeping with its image, has opted for a softer
approach. But it is a necessarily ambivalent one which appears to
satisfy no one.
The approach boils down to one of three standard responses,
depending on which is most appropriate to the occasion:
- There already is freedom, as evident from the presence of a whole
range of channels through which people can freely express their
views, for instance, the feedback units, the forum pages of major
newspapers, the meet-the-people sessions with MPs, etc.
- For a small, vulnerable country like Singapore, the political
process must evolve slowly, if it is not to be a disruptive or even
catastrophic force, as can be seen in so many countries today;
and
- The issue of political freedom is really the concern of the
minority only, as the majority are more taken up with
bread-and-butter issues such as jobs.
Beyond the official responses, given almost perfunctorily, as if to
waste no more time in getting to more important matters, there has
been no indication that the Government even regards the call for
political freedom as an issue, much less a problem worthy of
careful diagnosis, prognosis and cure.
At most, it is regarded as a nuisance, to be tactfully handled but
quietly monitored to prevent it from getting out of hand. As long
as it remains at the level of mere verbal disgruntlement, the
Government seems willing and able to live with it.
But it refuses to go away. With alarming regularity, over many
years, it has cropped up at almost every public forum, debate or
discussion. And dismayingly, the official response each time is the
same.
By now, the form and wording of these Government-people exchanges,
especially those between ministers and young people in public chat
sessions, are beginning to take on a tedious predictability, as are
the polite silences following the official responses (which
silences, however, could later turn up on the Internet dressed in
colourful and scurrilous verbiage).
Surreal feeling
HENCE, in the purportedly frank, friendly and no-holds barred
sessions, the interlocutors seem locked in an uneasy ritual of
spoken and unspoken responses, a pattern that will be repeated in
similar future sessions, in a numbing cycle.
One gets the surreal feeling that everyone seems trapped in a
Samuel Beckett-like circularity that nobody knows how to break out
of:
Comment: There’s still fear in Singapore society.
Government response: What fear? Singaporeans are freely expressing
their views and criticisms, and the Government is not putting them
in jail for it.
Government not putting anyone in jail for expressing their views
and criticisms ?
