Currently I am following with great excitement the debate on human rights reported in the media, especially on the increasing world interest in the special Singapore model of governance, which critics say is unacceptably authoritarian, and which admirers say is a model worthy of world emulation. Minister Mentor has drawn attention to what he perceives as liberal democracy’s annoyance with Singapore’s success, and with the fact that Russia and China are showing keen interest in the model.

In the light of all this interest, I thought it a good idea to reproduce an excerpt (declined for publication by the newspapers) from a recent political speech I made, in which I told a little, wickedly satirical tale, set sometime in the future, about precisely this model being adopted by the world

Let me share with you an idea that I have for a satirical play, on my favourite theme of the suppression of political liberties in Singapore.

Central to this proposed play is a question that goes straight to the heart of the famous absolutist philosophy of the PAP government, by which the only conceivable, not-to-be-questioned goal for Singapore is material prosperity, and the only conceivable, not-to-be-doubted means to secure this goal is PAP leadership. Everything else is an irrelevance or a hindrance, especially the political ideology of liberal democracy. As it stands, the unremitting realpolitik of the PAP has meant the curtailment of virtually all democratic freedoms in Singapore, except the basic, fundamental one of free and open elections.

My question is: will the PAP be prepared to do away with even this last vestige of democracy, if they perceive that the very survival of the nation is at stake? Will the PAP, in extremis, be prepared to sever all ties with the free world of which Singapore has been a member all its life?

For purposes of the play, the answer is yes. Picture this scenario, sometime in the future. It is election time. A young, attractive, very charismatic opposition leader has appeared on the scene. Nobody has seen the likes of him before. He draws huge crowds, mesmerising them. He cleverly commandeers all the resources of the Internet, and the SMS, to promote his aims, and is succeeding spectacularly. Singaporeans are excited because for the first time, they see his party, boldly named ‘People’s Reaction Party’ or PREP, as a viable alternative to PAP.

The government watches him warily. They see him as a real threat. He is exactly the kind of politician they despise, the emotion-stirring demagogue, the smooth- talking populist who if he gets into power will most certainly squander the nation’s reserves within a year. To make matters worse, there is a configuration of events, both at home and abroad, that are likely to favour this upstart—a fever of change sweeping the world, toppling governments that have been in power for decades, the emergence of the young as a formidable political force, feared for their colonization of the Internet and the extremism of their views, at home the eruption of a major scandal that causes Singaporeans to question the much-vaunted competence of the government.

The PAP leaders huddle in urgent consultation. What should they do? If they do nothing, this rabble-rouser will steal the election, and destroy all that the PAP has been building up so painstakingly for half a century.

The leaders make a decision to prevent a freak election. They do the unthinkable. They send in the army. There’s a scene in the play that shows tanks in the background, helicopters whirring overhead, the riot police plunging into the crowds, scattering them, pulling all the troublemakers off the streets, throwing them into jail. Soon order is restored.

As expected there is an uproar of protest from the free world. But the PAP has done its calculations well, and made the correct predictions. True enough, the protest soon dies down. For the world has a short memory for such things, and is only too happy to go back to minding its own business. Even better, there is a definite softening of stance as critics both at home and abroad, begin to take into account the following considerations. Firstly, nobody was killed that day. Secondly, many so-called liberal democracies have done far worse things to their political opponents. Thirdly, Singaporeans continue to enjoy the good life. Lastly, and most important of all, Singapore continues to be a responsible, reliable, partner in international business and other activities.

But the strongest endorsement comes from a powerful bloc of nations that is increasingly seen as a rival to the Western bloc led by the US. It is the organisation called BRIC comprising the four nations of Brazil, Russia, India and China. The BRIC members go out of their way to applaud the PAP for what they describe as the real kind of leadership so sorely needed in a troubled world. Moreover, they invite Singapore to be a member, for they realize that the unique PAP model of governance can be developed into a BRIC model which can be offered to the world as an alternative to the western liberal model. From now onwards, authoritarianism will no longer be a bad word; all the negativity will go to democracy instead.

In the play, there is a scene showing all the five leaders of the bloc, now renamed BRICS, standing in a row for a photo-op, against the background of their national flags. All are dressed in pristine white, for BRICS has adopted the PAP official uniform, as a gesture of appreciation and gratitude. The little red dot has become a shining beacon of hope in the world. It is the moment of the PAP’s apotheosis.

A drama needs conflict for creative tension. The counterpoise to the triumphant PAP is a single individual. He is not a dissident, but an ex-PAP member, in fact a high-ranking minister. He was the only to protest against the decision to use force, to send in the army that day. Whether his decision was based on moral conscience or pure idiosyncrasy, is not clear. He is expelled from the party. Disgraced, embittered, broken, he suffers a massive mental breakdown and becomes a raving, ranting madman.

Wild-eyed and dishevelled, he wanders the streets and public places of Singapore, speaking to whoever cares to listen, resisting his family’s efforts to restrain him, to keep him from the public eye. Again and again, he recounts the events of that terrible day of democracy’s demise in Singapore, but it is a madman’s incoherent jabbering that nobody wants to listen to. In any case, nobody wants to be seen near him, for there are rumours of secret surveillance cameras everywhere. There are also rumours of kind, compassionate Singaporeans visiting him secretly in the darkness of night, offering food, medicine, solace.

He has become a national embarrassment. The PAP leaders don’t know what to do with him. Someone suggests incarcerating him on a small isolated, outlying island, out of the reach of the world media. Then, to everyone’s relief, he dies a natural death. His body is found very early one morning, crumpled in a heap, beside a bus stop. His family quickly take it away.

The play ends with an amazing scene—crowd upon crowd of Singaporeans coming to lay flowers on the spot where he had died. Dark-suited businessmen in their Mercedes, somber-faced academics, tai tais in their jewels and chauffeured cars, students, teachers, hawkers, waitresses, taxi-drivers, Singaporeans from all walks of life, come to pay silent tribute, for the time being ignoring those dreaded surveillance cameras.

When some friends complimented me on my website, I just had to make a clean breast of it: somebody did it for me.

Last year, after it was clear that the media no longer wanted to publish my political commentaries—or only very selectively—I decided to go online and create my own website for them. But being abysmally ignorant of all new forms of technology, I sought the help of a friend who put me in touch with Junjie, a graduate from NTU who is now conducting photography courses in Singapore. From that moment, it was all go! Once he understood my needs and preferences, Junjie set about conceptualising, designing and then setting up the website and has since worked to continually update and improve it. In the process, he was even prepared to conspire with the camera to accommodate my many vanities, using only those pictures that cleverly disguised my age!

I fear that with such helpful technological virtuosos like Junjie around, I will continue to be a ‘techno-bodoh’ among digeratis.

I was pleasantly surprised, and much encouraged, that the Straits Times agreed to run the following excerpt of my speech given in the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy Studies, on 2 July.

Whatever strategies of communication I may use as a political commentator – directly through exposition, or indirectly through humour, irony and satire – I would like to continue to share my views with fellow Singaporeans.

There is one special group I’m interested in – those who follow political developments keenly and are now wondering whether they should move from being passive observers to active participants in public discussion and debate.

For them I have an urgent message: If you have the following reservations, you can overcome them, as I have:

Firstly, you feel bad about criticising a government that has done so much good for the people. The People’s Action Party (PAP) Government’s achievements have been so spectacular, surely whatever shortcomings it has can be overlooked?

But if you sincerely, strongly feel that the shortcoming is more than minor – that it is, in fact, a real defect of leadership style that could have serious repercussions for society in the long term – then you must speak up.

If giving credit where credit is due is a good thing, then giving criticism where criticism is due is better, for it entails greater effort, even courage.

There is a time and a place for praise and blame, trust and doubt, appreciation and anger. They need not exclude each other; indeed, together they make for a more balanced, integrated view.

I am probably the most seasoned critic in Singapore. But I have repeatedly expressed my profound appreciation for the safety, security, and material well-being of Singapore. Perhaps the most glowing tribute ever received by the PAP Government came from me four years ago at the time of the Indian Ocean tsunami.

I was so impressed by the Singapore Government’s rendering of help to beleaguered Indonesians – help that was noted not only for its generosity but also its quiet tact, calm resolution and warm empathy – that I wrote an enthusiastic article about it that was published in Today.

Secondly, you feel that since you are not interested in going into politics, since you don’t have the makings of a politician, you aren’t qualified to be a political critic. Wrong.

Political life is not for everybody. As long as you are a concerned Singaporean with worthwhile ideas, as long as you are motivated by conviction and good intentions, you can make a valuable contribution to the raising of political awareness and the enlarging of political debate, so sorely needed in Singapore.

I have been challenged, as well as invited, many times to get into the political arena, but my answer has always been no. For I am aware of my limitations, pretty serious ones at that.

For one thing, my personality and temperament make me quite unfit for the demands of political life. Being overly individualistic and solitary, not to mention opinionated and stubborn, I would find it very hard to submit to party discipline and consensus.

I’m sure if I joined any party, I would be booted out within a month. I can claim only two abilities – being able to speak and write. But that’s okay, as I can make reasonable use of them in my role as political commentator.

Thirdly, you fear that as a political critic, you will bring upon yourself the wrath of a powerful and implacable government, perhaps even strong punitive action. Wrong again.

I believe that much of the fear we Singaporeans experience is unnecessary and self-inflicted – which, of course, suits the PAP fine, since it makes its work of control that much easier.

I also believe that even a criticism-averse government must respect, even if grudgingly, criticism that is informed, measured, reasoned and principled, born out of conviction and a genuine concern for the well-being of the society.

At the most, the government might react to your criticism with a sharp rebuke; at the least, it might simply ignore you, as it has been ignoring me for years.

When my first political commentaries appeared in The Straits Times more than 10 years ago, there was initially an uproar, and the government was clearly angry. In fact, there were all kinds of rumours, some downright ridiculous, about how the government was out to get me. But as you can see, I’m still happily around.

You will notice that my operative words are honesty, sincerity, conviction and good intentions. Ultimately, these are the most important qualities to bring to any relationship in any sphere – political, business or professional, in the public or private domain.

So my rallying cry to Singaporeans is this: Think through, speak out, stand up and try not to be too afraid.

“Fireside Chat” at Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy, National University of Singapore, on July 2nd, 2008.