The term ‘new normal’ has been used to describe the new political reality in Singapore, including the changes following the General Election of 2011 (GE 2011). Less dramatic and romantic than the other descriptions of ‘a Singapore Renaissance’ and ‘a Singapore Arab Spring’, it nevertheless recognizes that the winds of change that have swept away the norms, assumptions and rules of the old order are more akin to the storms of revolution than to the gentle breezes of step-by-step evolution that the People’s Action Party (PAP) government had always advocated.

Part of this new normal is a new electorate with a ferocious hunger for a new kind of leadership. Since it is a strongly anti-PAP group, it desires the new leadership, first and foremost, to be free of all those detested PAP attributes, notably arrogance, complacency and insensitivity to the needs of the people, that had come in for much excoriation during the GE 2011.

Sensing this need of the people, certain aspirants for the position of President of Singapore quickly realised that the Presidential Election of 2011 (PE 2011) would present the very opportunity for fulfilling it. While the PAP leadership would likely be around for some time, it should still, in the meanwhile, be subjected to checks and balances, and who better to do that than a president empowered by a popular mandate in nationwide polls? Indeed, holding the highest office in the land, he would be in the ideal position to provide just the leadership to feed this hunger for change, which the many placatory gestures of a chastened PAP government after GE 2011, had only succeeded in sharpening.

Thus did these hopefuls get down to the serious work of re-casting the traditional presidential role according to how the people would want it to be. They duly invested it with precisely those leadership qualities so reprehensibly missing in the PAP administration—the ability to connect with the ground, an empathy with the needs of the man-in-the-street, the courage to put up a good fight on matters that affected people’s lives, including those that had been angrily brought up during GE 2011.

In re-writing the role of the president as if he were a Member of Parliament with the whole nation as his constituency, the presidential hopefuls were, in effect, politicizing the role of the Elected President (EP). Whether or not they realised it, they were seriously contradicting the strictly apolitical, primarily ceremonial and custodial role set out in the constitution.

It can be argued that this politicization, if it was an errant or misguided act, could be blamed on the creators of the constitution themselves. In 1991, the PAP leaders amended the constitution to change the system of a government-appointed president to that of an elected one, to give him the moral authority to perform a most vital function, among others: preventing spendthrift governments from raiding the nation’s vast reserves.

The stipulation of the condition of a popular mandate for the presidency was already, in itself, a politicizing act, with all kinds of political implications, whether or not the PAP leaders were aware of it. If they were, they must have dismissed it as of no relevance for their purposes, since it would make no difference for Singaporean voters long used to timid, unquestioning compliance with every government policy.

Never in their wildest imagination could the PAP leaders have foreseen the emergence, in GE 2011, of a fearless, boldly demanding electorate, who went on, in PE 2011, some months later, to seize the very same constitutional amendment to serve their purpose, by re-interpreting the role of the EP exactly as they wanted it to be.

So quickly and enthusiastically was this revised role taken up and promoted in the online media, especially by the new group of mostly young, vocal, Internet-savvy voters, that scant thought was given to the resulting contradictions and paradoxes. Even at the purely theoretical level, these anomalies were troubling; translated into reality, they could in the long run do much damage to the most august office in the land.

Firstly, the politicization had resulted in the creation of a bizarre hybrid role for the EP, made up of two mutually exclusive ones—that of a Member of Parliament whose business was politics, and that of a ceremonial head of state whose business was to stay above it. It was a weirdly composite role where the EP was empowered, on the one hand, to go all out to fight for the people’s interests, and on the other, to be a powerless custodian whose advice the government was under no obligation to heed.

Secondly, it would lead to a forced juxtaposition of strongly opposed behaviors, that is, the regally calm, dignified and benign bearing of a president, at one end, and the relentlessly ruthless and combative approach of the seasoned politician, at the other. In practice, it could mean, for example, the jarring dissonance of a media picture of the president caught up in the raw, brutal competitiveness of a political campaign, superimposed upon his official portrait of smiling fatherly benevolence, reverentially displayed in government buildings nationwide.

In short, the act of politicizing the EP’s role could generate such patently absurd paradoxical statements as to resemble philosophical conundrums:

1. The EP is both political and apolitical, both partisan and non-partisan.
2. The EP is both a symbol of stately dignity and of the earthy street savvy of the successful politician.
3. The EP is given veto power over government decisions in certain areas, but it can be nullified by the government’s own veto power.

The EP’s role would thus be a logically and psychologically insupportable one. Riddled with so many contradictions and paradoxes, it could be seen as both a hopelessly neither-here-nor-there, as well as a something-for-everyone role that had an Alice-in-Wonderland hyperreality about it.

The incongruities of the politicisation were quickly and urgently pointed out by some alarmed PAP ministers. Through the media and public forums, they drew meticulous attention to its deviation from the terms clearly laid down in the amendments to the constitution. They highlighted the constitutional constraints of the EP’s role precisely to refute the liberalities that the anti-PAP camp had decked it with. But in the high spirits that were a spillover from GE 2011, the PAP’s objections apparently had the effect of only increasing the appeal of the newly envisaged role. Imagine, a president at long last who can stand up to the PAP bully on our behalf!

At this stage of the period leading up to the presidential election, there was hence already an ideological polarization of voters into, broadly, those who were pro-PAP and favoured the constitutionally circumscribed role of the EP for its stability, and those who were anti-PAP and accordingly rejected it as yet one more example of a self-serving government policy, that was out of touch with the people’s needs.

By the time of the nine-day campaign leading to election day on 27 August, the reconstituted role of the EP, improbable as it was, controversial as it had become, had already taken root in the popular imagination, accreting very attractive features along the way.

It had become a phenomenon that would determine the shape, tone and flavour of the entire campaign. For what happened was that the four presidential contenders, comprising one closely allied with the PAP government, and the other three stoutly affirming their independence of it, had no choice but to use the politicized image as their frame of reference, if they wanted to get their message quickly and effectively across to the voters. Since the image was so diffuse and mixed because of the contradictions, they could only select that aspect of it upon which they could convincingly build their campaign pledges, or mount their criticism of the rivals. And since the aspects were so different, the candidates could only talk past each other, and not engage in meaningful dialogue or debate.

Thus while each of the four candidates pledged to become a worthy president, the notion of worthiness split into as many individual versions. Indeed, these could be stark opposites, depending on which end of the ideological spectrum the candidate had positioned himself: if staunchly pro-PAP, he could promise to work closely with the government to ensure order and stability, or, if strongly anti-PAP, he could promise to take on an actively independent role of stern watchdog and interventionist, to ensure that the people’s interests were protected. Both stands were equally valid, and each in its own way made sound political sense.

It was not surprising therefore that confusion would set in and that earnest voters, genuinely desirous of voting for the most suitable presidential candidate, would ask with some puzzlement: what exactly is the role of the EP? How do I justify my choice of this or that candidate?

The simplest answer in the end boiled down to this: justification depends on whether you are pro-PAP or anti-PAP. If the first, you invoke the constitution; if the second, you also invoke the constitution, but a different aspect of it.

A constitution so ambiguous, so open to the widest possible interpretations, and hence so manipulable, surely spelt trouble, and indeed made for one of the most bitterly fought campaigns in Singapore’s electoral history.

But today a president has already been elected and will be inaugurated in a matter of days. So what happens now?

The President Elect had quickly made clear in a landmark speech a day after the election that his priority would be to unify a divided society, to reach out to all. In principle, that would mean playing the apolitical role as laid down in the constitution in keeping with his campaign pledge to the 35% who voted him in, as well as playing the completely different, politicised role of an independent-minded EP, as desired by the 65% who did not vote for him. Taking a middle course would please neither; seeking to strike the perfect balance would be virtually impossible. And through it all, there would be pressure on him from the PAP government (now much relieved that he and not any of the other contenders in PE 2011 had got in), to work closely with them to regain the standing so badly lost in GE 2011.

It is, by all accounts, a fiendishly difficult job for the new President, with demands that go well beyond the brave campaign efforts of overcoming his natural reserve and aloofness to mingle with humble folk in friendly camaraderie. The job will be fraught with frustrations, because most of what he says and does, will not go down well with most of the people most of the time—the aggrieved 34% whose preferred candidate lost by a margin so incredibly small it was almost invisible, the 25% who had pointedly supported the contender most conspicuously contrasted with him, and the remaining 6%, that either spoilt their vote or gave it to the fourth, and weakest contender in the contest.

For the first time in the history of the presidency, the President of Singapore will be watched and judged more closely than even the PAP leadership itself. It would appear that without being exactly the sacrificial lamb, he would have to bear the brunt of grievances from the past, and the burden of expectations for the future.

Singaporeans who are seriously concerned about this grotesquely intractable issue of the EP’s role must come to a sobering conclusion: As long as nothing is done to resolve the inherent paradoxes in the constitution, the future could see the following predicaments and troubling scenarios:

1. The office of the EP will be increasingly devalued and demeaned. It can never shake off the taint from the raw emotions and squalor of the hustings, which will be continued and amplified in the free-wheeling world of the social media, most certainly by the frustrated supporters of the unsuccessful candidates. The Istana will have lost its pristine and hallowed ambience.

2. In the new intense and unforgiving climate after GE 2011, the EP will be seen as someone who has to earn his keep, like everybody else. Hence his ceremonial role will be viewed as far less significant than the substantial one of, say, advising the government wisely in an economic crisis, helping to better manage the reserves, using the presidential clout to initiate a major humanitarian project, etc. Since his public visibility is necessarily far greater in the first than in the second role, he may be criticized for performing below the expectations of the people who gave him their vote, and maligned by the rest for not justifying the huge presidential salary he is paid.

3. Two of the three unsuccessful contenders in PE 2011 who had managed to garner very convincing shares of the popular vote have already indicated they are likely to be back in the future. By then, based on lessons learnt in PE 2011, they will have found innovative ways to improve their performance in future presidential elections, with the result that these will get even more raucous, divisive and bitter. Indeed, the presidential election will be increasingly seen as an extension of the general election, and the opportunity to replicate a victory, improve the popularity rating, renew an attack, settle old scores, complete unfinished work, etc. By this time, the election will have frightened away those men (and women) whose sterling qualities make them true presidential material.

4. The highest office in the nation might lose its special luminosity, as it becomes increasingly influenced by the various personae of the EPs successively occupying it. For the EPs will have come with different, even extreme interpretations of their role, varying from that of vociferous opponent of the government, at one end, to that of quietly submissive PAP adjunct, at the other. The image of the EP may be vitiated to the extent that it no longer inspires respect and regard.

5. There is a possibility that in the future there could emerge a power centre with immense resources and influence, putting up its own personnel as a presidential candidate, in order to later use his high position to prosecute its own agenda. Such a threat which would be an impossibility in a general election, might eventuate in the relatively new, much less regulated and predictable world of direct voting in a presidential election. The hijacking of such a major institution for insidious purposes must be the ultimate nightmare of the society.

6. With future presidential candidates more likely to come from the Chinese majority, the very worthy, long upheld goal of having equal representation from the different ethnic groups may be irrevocably lost. This would be a severe blow to multiracial equality and unity in the society.

The paradoxes in the amended constitution could therefore lead to a medley of monstrous scenarios, a shocking array of unintended consequences. It is imperative, surely, that they be looked into and resolved as quickly as possible, as delay will only entrench them in the political landscape, making them useful tools for opportunists and mischief makers. As it is, they have already created disquiet and provoked controversy in a newly revitalized and maturing society that wants to move on quickly to concentrate on more important national issues.

The task of amending the amendments in a constitution that has been in place for more than twenty years is arduous, hazardous work, calling for much patience, courage, honesty and above all, political will. But the effort will be worth it, to protect the dignity, authenticity, integrity and indeed the very raison d’etre of a sacrosanct institution.

When in 1991, the People’s Action Party (PAP) leaders decided to change the system of a government-appointed President of Singapore to that of a popularly elected one, they could never have foreseen the electoral chaos their decision would cause twenty years later.

For at that time, the amendments in the constitution, by all accounts, fitted in well with the government’s purpose. Firstly, the setting up of a president with a popular mandate to check the excesses of an administration grown incompetent or corrupt, had all the laudable marks of a healthily functioning democracy, that would surely go down well with the people.

Secondly, the veto powers of the president would by no means make him a source of annoyance to a PAP government used to having its own way, because of two cautionary provisions built into the constitution. The first was his prior clearance, before he could stand for election, by a government-appointed body that would see to it that he was acceptable, in the first place, to the government itself, in terms of his experience, intellectual acumen, moral character, personality, etc. The second and more important provision in the constitution, was his being subjected, after his election as president, to precisely stipulated limits of his custodial role as to its scope and demeanour, to ensure that the government would always have the final say.

Thirdly, the newly invested presidential power which would not likely be used on a PAP leadership that had always prided itself on its competence and incorruptibility, would nevertheless be a strong safeguard against any future government inclined towards excess, and especially against any rogue opposition party coming into power and ready to squander the nation’s vast reserves in populist schemes to curry favour with the people.

In short, the amendments in the constitution for an Elected President (EP) would greatly enhance the traditional role of the president, and increase its usefulness. Thus, in addition to being the ceremonial head of a nation, a symbol of democratic processes at work, a focus for national pride and emotional outpouring, and the nation’s proud representative abroad in the illustrious company of royalty and dignitaries, he would also be the moral conscience of the government, albeit a discreetly quiet one. The EP would thus be a luminous star in a continuing tripartite, president-government-people relationship of unity and harmony.

But the General Election of 2011 (GE 2011) has burst asunder all the smooth lines of this pattern and reduced it to a chaos of disunities and disjunctions that, in the present run-up to the Presidential Election on 27 August, continue to confuse and vex voters. These fall broadly into the pro-PAP group, the 60% who voted for the party in GE 2011, and the anti-PAP group, the 40% who gave their vote to the opposition, both groups being now expected to give their support, accordingly, to the presidential candidate who is either associated with the PAP, or distanced from and independent of it.

The four contenders, as they go about canvassing for votes, are clearly lined along an ideological spectrum, with the strongest PAP associate at one end, and the strongest PAP critic at the other. All the highly-charged, hotly debated issues of the campaign seem to devolve into one common, fundamental question: Exactly what is the role of the EP?

It is a reflection of the latent contradictions of the constitution, only now emerging, that the very same sacrosanct document is quoted by both opposing sides to support their standpoints. Thus, the pro-PAP voters, backing the presidential hopeful who has been publicly endorsed by the government and the various pro-establishment unions and organizations, are saying: ‘The constitution stipulates the president’s custodial role very clearly, which means that he must work closely and harmoniously with the government for the common good.’ The anti-PAP voters, supporting those presidential hopefuls who they perceive will act independently, even adversarially, are saying with equal confidence, ‘The popular mandate of the president, for which the constitution was changed in the first place, would make no sense if he did not represent the people who had voted directly for him. Therefore, he must be the voice of the people and stand up against the government, if necessary, to protect their interests.’

The dilemma for voters boils down to a choice between two situations that could not be more contrasted: to keep the status quo and thus ensure continuity and stability, or to opt for change without which there can be no progress. So: stay on the terra firma of the known, or venture into the terra incognita of the unknown? Have more of the same, or go for a whole new game?

Ironically, the same constitution is perceived as providing equal logical, legal and moral backing for either of these two diametrically opposed stances. Even more ironically, the constitution which places the EP above politics, has caused him to be the centre of the most divisive political contest seen in Singapore. It would be difficult, after such an election, to see the new President of Singapore in an aura of magisterial bearing, dignified detachment and inspirational benevolence. For he would have been permanently tainted by the mean-spiritedness and low-mindedness that are an inevitable part of the hype and hoopla of a political campaign.

Among the anti-PAP group, there is a specially vocal, bold, single-minded band which, though in the minority, warrants special attention, because they have, through their persistent, assiduous and skilful exploitation of the power of the social media, successfully channeled the discontent and anger of GE 2011 into the Presidential election. Their rallying cry which must have great resonance for large numbers of disaffected Singaporeans is: No more of the same PAP dominance, no more of the same PAP arrogance and insensitivity to the needs of the people! We need a whole new game, with the rules re-written by ourselves, to serve the people’s interests, not theirs! We can do this through the EP because we gave him our vote!

There are three special kinds of emotional appeal that this anti-PAP group has adroitly crafted out of the outcomes of GE 2011:

i) urging the people to replicate their astonishing triumph and spectacular gains in GE 2011, by reminding them that, for the first time in electoral history, they were able to make the powerful PAP government buckle to their demands for changes in unpopular policies, including the hated ministerial salaries; convincing them that the coming Presidential Election represents their best possible chance to reinforce and extend these gains, a chance that moreover, may never come again, at least not for another five years.

ii) emphasizing to the people the sheer unfairness of a system by which the unprecedented 40% vote which they had given the opposition had converted into a paltry six seats in Parliament; assuring them that this gross disproportion could be redressed by an actively independent EP.

iii) pointing out to the people that despite the avowals for change, the PAP administration is still very much mired in its old mindset, and so far seems to be more interested in making personnel rather than policy changes; that despite his resignation from the cabinet, the former, long-feared Minister Mentor, Lee Kuan Yew is still very much around, judging by the public comments and pronouncements he is still making, including his recent one reiterating the necessity of bringing in foreign talent, which had been a contentious GE 2011 issue.

The increasingly bolder anti-PAP camp, whose vociferousness and hence very palpable presence makes them a more effective force for change than the silent majority, is a new species of political animal that was created by the shock events of GE 2011. It has tasted freedom and smelt blood. It can no longer be muzzled. Indeed, it seems by now to be unstoppable and may well prove to be the most intractable force for the PAP government to deal with in the future. The EP who might have been savaged by this feral creature during the hustings, will have no choice but to placate and make peace with it.

The coming Presidential Election on 27 August will be watched like no other, because the political landscape that has changed so amazingly after GE 2011, may well see a second transformation.

Seventeen years ago, the then Prime Minister of Singapore, Mr Goh Chok Tong, sternly warned government critics about what they could and could not criticize, using the golfing term ‘out-of-bounds markers’ which has since then become part of the political lexicon.

But in the General Election of 2011 (GE 2011), a newly emboldened, energized and subsequently triumphant electorate went all the way of criticism, sparing no personage in the People’s Action Party (PAP) leadership, no matter how long feared, nor any PAP policy, no matter how well established. Thus they removed, in one fell stroke, all the hated markers, clearing the way for even the most outspoken critic in the future.

Now, just some months later, they clearly want to do the same for the President of Singapore. For he too is hampered by out-of-bounds markers, the special constraints imposed on him by the constitution which forbids him to say or do anything that might be construed as disapproval of government policy. By challenging these markers and removing them, they want him to be an independent voice of the people, that dares raise itself, whenever necessary, on their behalf. Judging by their fervid, boundless activity in the Internet in the run-up to the presidential election, it is clear that they want to continue to use the same powerful instrument to achieve their purpose. If they succeed, they will in effect change forever the role of the Elected President (EP) and secure another people’s victory this year, surely one of the most remarkable years in Singapore’s electoral history.

But this time, the challenge is very much complicated by a powerful counter-challenge by the government, in the form of that most sacrosanct instrument of the social compact—the constitution. The constitution clearly spells out the role of the EP in its nature and scope: it is custodial, not executive; it is in harmony with, not against, the decisions of the government; in tone, it is dignified, in bearing stately, not cantankerous and demeaning of its high office. To refute the claims and promises of independence made by certain presidential hopefuls, PAP ministers have painstakingly drawn attention to these strictures in the constitution.

But the vociferous anti-PAP camp, still flush with the success of GE 2011, has little patience for the legalisms and punctilio of a constitution, as can be seen in the vigorous, unbridled exchanges among netizens bent on bringing out into the open allegedly past misdeeds of those hopefuls who are perceived to be favoured by the government. The prevailing attitude seems to be that since the constitution was created more than 20 years ago by a self-serving government that provided it with enough ambiguities to allow for an interpretation that will always suit their purpose, it is no longer relevant. Indeed, it contradicts the new spirit of openness, transparency and expanded powers for the people, ushered in by the watershed GE 2011, that a humbled PAP leadership has actually acknowledged and promised to promote.

Ironically, in the midst of the government’s deliberately conspicuous efforts to establish a more amicable relationship with the people (which some observers consider as needlessly effusive and overdone, detracting from the image of strong, confident leadership ), the estrangement persists in its most exacerbated form in the current EP controversy.

In addition to the unbridgeable gap between the diametrically opposed perceptions of a purely custodial role, on the one hand, and an actively adversarial one on the other, there are the following equally irreconcilable divergencies: where the government insists that the EP has veto power in only the five areas specified by the constitution, which include the protection of past reserves and the appointment of key personnel, the critics clearly want the EP to have a say in a whole array of other issues, especially those that had been their greatest concerns in GE 2011, namely, the ministerial salaries, the employment of foreign workers and unaffordable housing—and, presumably, any issue which affects the lives of Singaporeans. Where the government emphasizes dignity, gravitas and acumen as the most important qualities for the EP, the people want to see fearlessness, courage and readiness to stand up to a powerful government. Where the government wants the presidential voice, if it needs to be critical, to be so only in quiet, private consultation with the Prime Minister, the people will be satisfied with no less than open and public accounting.

In short, the differences are so vast that beyond the vague general agreement that the president must uphold the integrity of the highest office in the land, there is no common meeting ground. Every discussion on the EP is hence an impasse from the start.

Indeed, so intense is the clamouring of the people for change, so adamant is the government about preserving intact the constitutionality of the presidential role and so riddled with anomalies is the constitution itself when subjected to tests of real-life applications (as was evident in a recent forum where the Law Minister bravely answered questions put to him by academics and political analysts) that the rancour is likely to continue well beyond the election on 27 August, regardless of who gets elected.

The new president, no matter how he chooses to play out his role, will be in the unenviable position of being continually scrutinized and criticized in the light of his previous formal association, or absence of it, with the PAP. If he had been a former stalwart in the PAP administration, and had been publicly favoured by the government, he will be seen as just one more in a line of perfectly acquiescent, cosily harmonious presidents, exactly as the PAP had always intended and desired. If he had been formerly a member of the PAP but had pointedly distanced himself from it, whatever efforts he makes at asserting his independence will be overshadowed by the past links, or even seen as the sheer futility of trying to shake off an unshakeable, deeply entrenched PAP mentality. If he had never been a PAP member, the expectations of him will be so unrealistically high that whatever evidence of independence he displays will elicit disappointment as being not enough. And since the presidential salary is tied to ministerial salaries, any angry response to the outcome of the review currently being undertaken, will not spare him.

In the new political climate after GE 2011, the greatest loser might just be the EP, because he will have to bear the brunt of the anomalies, confusions and conflicts of a society that has been suddenly and unexpectedly thrust into the flux of transition. He will be stuck in an impossible situation, for the out-of-bounds markers set out in the constitution will strait-jacket him, making a mockery of his popular mandate and the will of the people who had directly elected him. He has continually to maintain the difficult balance between the need, on the one hand, to present the magisterial bearing and calm composure and detachment expected of a president, and, on the other, to project an image of empathy and affinity with the man-in-the-street, all the time aware that he is being watched and judged, and that the savage criticisms and relentless exposure of his private life, that he had endured during the run-up to the election, will by no means end with the high office he now holds. Rightly or wrongly, he will be linked with a government that has fallen so far in the people’s regard that close association with them is seen as something of a taint. With the traditional protective mantle of his office stripped away, he will be at the mercy of netizens who themselves enjoy the protective anonymity of the Internet.

The experience of the presidential election of 2011 could well be the most bruising, divisive and ugliest election in Singapore’s history. It may be necessary when a system ends up with nobody being a winner, and everybody having a bad taste in the mouth, to take another look at it, and subject it to an honest review.