For the first time in the political history of Singapore, the PAP Government is not only unambiguously stating that the political process is ripe for change and evolution, but is actually backing up the statement with a flurry of measures.

Of these, the one that has generated most interest and discussion is the lifting of restrictions on political dissent in cyberspace, probably because of its happy spillover effects in the real world, such as the permitting of demonstrations at the Speakers’ Corner, and the release of hitherto banned political movies. There may be yet more loosening up, based on feedback invited from the public, that the Government-appointed Advisory Council on the Impact of New Media on Society (Aims) is currently receiving.

Does it appear that suddenly a government that had been sternly intolerant and dismissive of all dissenting voices, both in blogs, podcasts, vodcasts, etc., and in mainstream media, has done an about-turn?

While these measures in no way match the spectacular changes that have taken place in the non-political domains of business, industry, education and the arts, they clearly signal the PAP Government’s acknowledgment, at long last, that the political process of freeing up democratic liberties for the people is essential to the overall progress of the nation.

Such a unique development, as close to a political renaissance as is possible in Singapore, should have elicited no less a response than jubilation from the people. But so far oddly there is none. So far there is no enthusiastic welcoming of the winds of change, no eager looking forward to a new political future. Instead, the reactions, both online and off, range from the deep cynicism of ‘too little, too late’, through the polite tentativeness of ‘wait and see’, to the cautious optimism of ‘a step in the right direction.’

Why is this so?

It is important to understand the reason for these reservations, because it goes right to the heart of the special complexities and problems that have marked the government-people relationship from the start. And the reason is this: All the changes being currently witnessed, far from being the result of a new mindset and vision of the government in response to the needs of the people, are no more than a necessary, and hence forced and reluctant, response to outside forces that it has no control over.

The most powerful force is of course the Internet, a new unstoppable world phenomenon that all governments have no choice but to adapt to. If the PAP government has been successfully curbing criticism in the traditional media, it simply has no power over critics taking advantage of the anarchic, free-for-all of the alternative media. For the first time in its experience, it would seem that the powerful PAP government stands nonplussed before an adversary. As the maxim goes, if you can’t beat them, join them. Better still, appease them, then learn to beat them at their own game.

Adding urgency to the need to engage the Internet are two reminders of its awesome power: firstly, the recent shocking example, just across the Causeway, of what can happen when its impact upon a general election is underestimated by the ruling party; and secondly, its potential impact on Singapore’s own general election due in two or three years’ time, a long enough period for the mischievous cyberspace minority to influence the majority in the real world, possibly leading to the worst imaginable outcome—a freak election.

Hence, the current slew of liberalizing measures is perceived by the people as no more than a defensive strategy of the PAP to continue to stay in power. As such, it smacks of self-interest and thus is far removed from the inspirational, galvanizing power of visionary decisions.

Behind the people’s cautious responses is a stark truth that shies from being publicly articulated at a time of such conciliatory gestures by the leaders. This is the prevailing belief that the special PAP mindset will under no circumstances allow any change in the PAP model of governance that has served the party so well over four decades. In a world of shifting needs and expectations, the model remains intact, because of its proven effectiveness. It is based on the assumption that an incorruptible, efficient, hard-working, no-nonsense government can deliver on its promise to bring material prosperity to the people only if it is free from the messiness and disorder that inevitably come with political liberalization, as seen in so many democracies in the region. The government sees the unfailing re-election of the PAP over four decades as proof that the assumption need never be questioned.

Hence, whatever measures that are being or will be implemented, are at best only concessionary, not substantive, only conditional, not permanent. They are marked by a careful selectivity to give the overall impression that things have changed for the better, while at the same time, signalling that the model is not to be undermined in any way. It is a shrewd balancing act, both to reassure the people and to warn off the critics.

Hence, it is still the old policy of control and containment, still the old dance of three-steps-forward-and-two-steps-back. Consequently, despite the claims of an opening up, the government will continue to keep a vigilant eye on bloggers, producers of political videos, demonstrators at the Speakers’ Corner, etc. to make sure that they do not go beyond the famously unyielding out-of-bounds markers that have long governed the scope, content and tone of criticism. It will not hesitate to remind these dissenting voices that freedom must be exercised responsibly, by which it means staying within these markers.

The promised evolution for the political process is precisely this tightly managed, step by step, incrementalist approach that is decided, monitored, guided and shaped all the way by the government in a continuing demonstration of an unchanging and unchangeable top-down PAP approach.

This is an unusual and, for political commentators like myself, an exciting time. My prognosis has been none too optimistic. It is an example of those rare occasions when the prognosticator wants to be proved wrong. Hence, there is no relinquishing this fervent hope: that the Government will seize the current unique opportunity to enlarge its response to the new challenge of the Internet by going beyond mere tactics to defining strategy, that is, moving on from the various piecemeal measures of appeasement, concession, sidestepping, gap-filling, pre-emption, etc. to a systematic, purposeful and sustained approach for total and lasting transformation of the political landscape. Such a leap calls for a profound leadership change of mind, heart and will, without which the true maturing of Singapore society will not be possible.

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.

Below is my letter published in the Straits Times on May 28, 2008. It is the original letter, containing the last sentence which had been left out by the newspaper editors

I refer to yesterday’s report “Mas Selamat escape: Detention centre superintendent gets the sack”. So the Government has sought closure to the Mas Selamat saga by handing out an assortment of punishments to the nine, mainly low-ranking, officers and guards whose security lapses had led to the escape of the terrorist.

I wish to express deep disappointment, shock and pain that in a national scandal of unprecedented magnitude and public outrage, it is only the little people who are held accountable and punished. By now, they are probably too frightened to appeal or seek redress.

Catherine Lim (Dr)

Final Comments on the Mas Selamat Scandal

Below are some final comments on the matter. I don’t expect to make any more statements unless new developments warrant them.

When I first followed the Government’s handling of the Mas Selamat scandal some months back, I wrote a commentary that expressed regret that the Minister of Home Affairs had not done the honourable thing of offering his resignation to set an example of the onerousness and dignity of high public office and duty.

Two days ago, when I listened to the Minister on TV tersely detailing the various punishments for each of the prison officers and guards responsible for the escape that fateful afternoon, my regret became mixed with shame and anger. I was ashamed and angry that in a society that prides itself on the highest standards of accountability and fairness, the entire blame seems to have been laid squarely on the shoulders of the ‘little people’ who, we are told, can appeal, but who, we all know, will have neither the courage nor the resources to do so.

In my 14 years as a political commentator, I have never been more outraged.

I have been very much heartened by the encouragement given by friends, netizens and fans to write more frequently on my blog in order to share views on political issues, since the Straits Times no longer appears willing to publish my commentaries. (But first I would like to put on record that I really have no hard feelings for the editors who have rejected my articles. I believe they are only doing their job the best way they can; in fact, some of them are my good friends!)

I have been more perturbed by the Mas Selamat case than by any of the past issues that we Singaporeans have expressed unhappiness about, including even the very contentious issue of the ministerial salaries. My unease has to do with the increasing disconnect between the government and the people which I had mentioned in my previous article and which I’ll try to explain more clearly and fully here.

The disconnect is due mainly to the PAP government’s failure, or refusal, to understand the importance of the affective component in a government-people relationship. Indeed anything outside their sternly pragmatic, rationalist, functionalist framework is viewed as just so much unnecessary emotionalism or ideology.

In the Mas Selamat case, the people’s feelings had clearly followed a sequence of three stages, every one of which the government had appeared to dismiss as irrelevant:

1. The shock at the announcement of the escape of a top terrorist who had threatened to devastate Singapore 9/11 style, and hence the profound fear that as long as he remained uncaptured, the threat to an entire nation was very real.
2. The outrage when it was revealed that the escape had been made possible by lapses so numerous, so ludicrous and so advantageously coincidental for the prisoner as to be like something out of a cheap movie.
3. The anger when the Government, instead of responding with the appropriate large political gesture matching the magnitude of the event, chose to concentrate chiefly on a purely administrative and functional response. This consisted mainly of the promise to set up a proper investigation by a committee, to make public the findings and to clean up the system to prevent such incidents in the future. It certainly did not pacify an angry public that firstly, the committee to investigate the incident was one appointed by the government itself; secondly, after the findings were released, the government reiterated its stand of full support for the Minister of Home Affairs and the Director of the ISD under whose charge the incident had taken place, and finally, it closed the matter with a brisk, terse message to move on to issues that deserved more attention, such as the increase in food prices.

Shock, outrage, anger: clearly, the Mas Selamat scandal had been a body blow to the collective Singapore psyche, and had shaken the very core of beliefs about the compact of accountability and trust that exists between the government and the people. It is a universal, sacrosanct compact that exists in every civilized society in the world, with the leaders pledging accountability and the people pledging trust in return.

Would I have wished for a different outcome than what has been played out these days? Yes. Here’s my ‘If only!’ alternative scenario:

As soon as the incident happens, the government realizes its magnitude and understands the people’s feelings and their looking to their leaders to assuage their shock and fear by an appropriate, reassuring and meaningful response. The Minister of Home Affairs accordingly offers to resign. The Prime Minister may or may not accept his resignation, taking into account all factors, including the Minister’s past excellent record, the ground sentiment, the wishes of the Minister himself, etc. and takes responsibility for his decision. With this necessary start of what may be seen as the healing process in a national trauma, the work of correction, repair and reform begins in earnest.

The following article, like previous ones, was turned down for publication by the Straits Times. It looks like I should stop being thick-skinned and give up sending my commentaries to them!

‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.‘ Something could get rotten in the state of Singapore as a result of the very unfortunate Mas Selamat scandal.

Scandal it is, in terms not only of its shocking nature—�the most dangerous political prisoner and terrorist operative in Singapore makes a laughably easy escape in a super efficient, technologically advanced city state—�but also of the serious doubts it is raising in the public’s perception of government accountability, and the damage that these doubts could do to the government-people relationship.

Up to this point, the relationship has been fairly stable and amicable, transcending whatever conflicts that have arisen over the years when the people expressed their unhappiness about the government’s decisions on various issues, such as those related to foreign workers, ministerial salaries, the casinos, Shin Corp, etc.

In each case, public debate has followed a predictable pattern: first, the people are allowed to speak their minds freely through the permitted channels including the forum pages of newspapers, TV debates, the feedback units, and dialogues with government representatives; next, at an appropriate point, the Prime Minister himself and his ministers enter the fray with patient, sustained explanations and persuasive arguments, and finally the matter comes to a close, usually with a gentle but firm message from the Prime Minister himself that in effect says, ‘Trust us; let’s move on.’

An expansion of this simple admonition could go something like this: ‘You have consistently re-elected us, thus acknowledging that we are a competent, responsible, trustworthy government. So even if we make unpopular decisions, it is only for the good of the society. And even if we cannot answer all your questions, it is only for reasons of national confidentiality and security. Therefore trust us, and we will continue to do our job well.’

In the Mas Selamat case, the government is precisely using this approach. But this time, it falls far short of the expectations of an increasingly articulate electorate, including, in the most surprising way, members of the PAP government itself, who seem to have suddenly become more alert, discerning and courageous, voicing reservations and asking questions in Parliament about government accountability that, in the past, could only have been expressed privately. Was the apology from the Minister of Home Affairs, followed by a detailed factual account of the escape, enough? Was the promise of corrective action to prevent such incidents in the future enough? Would not the findings of a Commission of Inquiry comprising members selected by the government itself raise more questions?

The voices raised in question and doubt, both in Parliament and the media, were expectedly measured and polite, in keeping with a tradition of deference to a powerful government that does not tolerate strident dissent. But politeness may soon give way to the persistence and boldness that come from conviction. The signs are that the voices, especially of the younger generation, will become a force to be reckoned with, because they are part of a whole new culture spawned by the Internet and globalization, with all that this implies of greater knowledgeability, awareness and sophistication.

Thus, a serious disconnect between the government and the people has arisen: while the government is still operating from the old perceptual paradigm carried over from a simpler, more innocent era, the people are developing a new one in keeping with the times. They are increasingly aware of new expectations and needs in their roles as citizens in a democratic society, and will no longer respond uncritically to the government’s usual exhortations of ‘Trust us’, ‘Also trust those we have picked to work for us,’ ‘Don’t forget what we have achieved,’ ‘Look at things in perspective’, ‘Let’s move on to more important, bread-and-butter matters,’ etc.

The Mas Selamat incident could cause the two paradigms to move so far apart as to make the disconnect permanent. Thus the incident may be seen as a watershed in the history of the government-people relationship, resulting either in a strengthening and maturing of the relationship on the one hand, or irreparable damage on the other.

Clearly, what the people expect, by way of an appropriate government response, is a large public gesture commensurate with the incident which in its magnitude has no precedent. That gesture will be no less than an offer of resignation from the Minister of Home Affairs himself. Whether the offer is accepted by the Prime Minister or the people is a separate matter. The personal integrity of the Minister is not in question. But in the conduct of the public life of a society, when something of this gravity happens, the symbolism is necessary. A symbolic act in public will have high visibility and emotive power, even in a pragmatic, down-to-earth society like Singapore, and can unite a people in times of trauma, giving a sense of something very like closure. Only then will Singaporeans regain their trust in the government and their belief in the honour, dignity and accountability of high office.