Back then, there was no ambiguity at all about the reactions of the three major players on the political stage. The PAP government, the Singaporean electorate and the opposition parties- had clearly emerged from the amazing election with their old selves so transformed (by pain or victory, as the case might be) that they all conveyed the same message: things would never again be the same. Some line had been crossed, some psychological barrier breached.

The government had conceded, even if only implicitly, that it would have to give up the old PAP authoritarian stance that had been its hallmark for half a century; the people, in a new mood of confidence, had signaled that they would never again be apathetic, timid and silent about issues that affected their lives; the opposition parties, encouraged by the new interest in them, had jubilantly cast off their old image as weak, disorganized groups not worth taking seriously.

In the heady days immediately following the election, a newly humbled PAP government made an all-out effort to placate voters. It quickly did away with the two policies that had most angered the voters, namely, those related to the ministerial salaries and foreign workers. It went further to promise no less than a ‘re-invention’ of leadership style, in order to meet the expectations of the electorate. On the part of the people, there was a mood of euphoric expectation that a ‘re-invented’ PAP would surely usher in, at long last, a truly open, engaged, accountable and mature society.

So is this good outcome taking place? It depends on who you’re asking the question, and what is meant by a good outcome.

No, say the political observers. There can be no real opening up if the old instruments of control are still being strenuously kept in place. True, the ISA (Internal Security Act) is not likely to be used as in the past when political detainees were either incarcerated without trial or forced to flee into permanent exile; nevertheless the government has made clear that it has no intention of doing away with this powerful instrument. True, the fearsome defamation suit by which political critics could be ruined financially is unlikely to be wielded with the same frequency and vigour as in the old days; nevertheless, the government has warned online blogs not to get out of line, to remove certain offensive postings, or else—. Most recently, the government refused to give permission to a prominent political activist to go abroad to take part in a convention. All these signs carry an unmistakable message: GE 2011, or no GE 2011, our position with regard to political dissent remains the same.

In general, it is a reflection of dampened hopes that one year after a so-called transforming election, not a single Singaporean believes that open debate, public assemblies and street demonstrations which are taken for granted in neighbouring countries, will take place in Singapore, as long as the PAP is in power.

So how can one talk of a good outcome from GE 2011?

Wait, says the government. Get your perspective right. We are keeping our promise, and good things are happening. Just look around you and see what is being done to improve the lives of the people, especially the lower income group. Never have we made a more sincere and sustained effort to translate policies into quick action, to benefit all sectors of the population, whether through new, affordable housing, better medical care, an improved transportation system, the provision of more lifts in old housing estates for the elderly and infirm, improvements in the education system to take care of those with special needs, new parks and recreational spots, to improve the quality of everyone’s lives, etc. Where policies cannot be changed to match the expectations of the people, our ministers take great pains to explain why, asking for the people’s patience, constantly reaching out to them, including through social media, ever ready to listen and make compromises, if possible. What more can you ask, for goodness’ sake.

Indeed, the government’s new approach is distinguished by a social reach never seen before, and an emphasis on the soft touch and the light footprint, completely at odds with the old, no-nonsense, peremptory style.

So what is really happening? What can one make of all these mixed signals in the political scene?

Since the government’s new approach has become national policy, the result of an obviously well thought out response to the special challenges of GE 2011, it is worthwhile to examine it carefully and understand its implications. Putting it under the microscope of close, detailed scrutiny and analysis will enable one to answer the following pertinent questions: is the policy congruent with the oft affirmed goal of putting the people first? Will it prove wrong all those skeptical political observers out there? Can it predict the future Singapore political landscape?

A good starting point for the analysis of this new approach is the term that the government itself has consistently used for it—’inclusiveness’. Again and again, the ministers remind the people that ours is an inclusive society. Actually, the term was used for the slogan chosen by Mr Lee Hsien Loong more than ten years ago when he became Prime Minister( in keeping with the traditional practice of prime ministers to choose a short, pithy phrase as a kind of rallying cry at the start of the premiership, as witness Mr Goh Chok Tong’s choice of ‘A Gracious Society’, and before him, Mr Lee Kuan Yew’s call of ‘A Rugged Society’)

In its present revived form, the slogan of ‘An Inclusive Society’ has been greatly enlarged and elevated into a major policy, with new strength, scope and purposefulness. In its strong commitment to ensuring that no one is left out in the overall goal of material prosperity and well-being, it surely stands out as a laudable policy that is, alas, rarely seen in most societies in the world.

But the forensic analysis soon reveals that mixed up with this admirable goal is one that is decidedly less so. It is the goal of self survival and power maintenance that is part and parcel of the realities of the political world. In the aftermath of a bruising GE 2011 which for the first time in Singapore’s electoral history made people think of the hitherto unthinkable possibility of the PAP government losing dominance a few more general elections down the road, it is to be expected that any post-election policy of the PAP would have to aim at preventing this catastrophe.

Indeed, so great was the humiliation suffered, such as the shocking but necessary resignation of the Party’s most respected member and founding father, Mr Lee Kuan Yew, that one can easily imagine the PAP government grimly vowing to do whatever it takes to make sure it will never have to endure such a punishing experience again.

Hence the policy of inclusiveness may be seen to have two quite different goals intertwined with each other—the first, publicly affirmed one of service to the people, and the second, privately espoused one of making sure that the shock of GE 2011 would not be repeated at the next general election, indeed, ever again. How can such contradictory aims be reconciled? How will they play out in public view, in the months to come? Will Singaporeans suffer a Quo Vadis where-do-we-go-from-here anxiety?

Here are some thoughts, some only tentative and conjectural, on this very complex and intriguing subject:

1. The PAP leaders have at least four years to see through their policy of inclusiveness, a period of time that will presumably be adequate for the construction of new housing developments, roads, trains, hospitals, parks, etc. The results of the policy will hence take the form of highly visible evidence of a promise sincerely made and efficiently executed, completely reversing the GE 2011 negative image of a government grown complacent and incompetent, allowing huge influxes of foreigners to compete with its own citizens for basic amenities.

2. The government, having learnt the hard way in GE 2011 about the power of emotional appeal, will increasingly make strategic use of it. The Prime Minister himself will set the trend, for instance, by joining Facebook to interact with Singaporeans in friendly sharing of personal preferences about food, recreation, etc. At every opportunity, such as the celebration of May Day, he will drive home the message: ‘Singaporeans, you come first.’ The younger ministers, free from the old austere image of the PAP, will be in a better position to interact with the younger Internet generation. There are frequent pictures in the mainstream newspapers of these young ministers jollying around in schools, the sports field, hawker centres. Overall, the PAP government will no longer be seen as a distant, aloof leadership, but as ‘one of us’.

3. The inclusive approach will put a human face on the PAP government and thus rob the opposition parties of their trump card of representing it as callous and uncaring. Indeed, it will effectively cut the ground from under the feet of the opposition, particularly the popular Workers’ Party. With the majority of the people contented with what is being done for them, the opposition may have no choice but to concentrate on the one remaining substantial issue—the government’s suppression of political liberties. But when buses are not overcrowded, trains work, roads are clean, jobs are available, the increased cost of living is offset by government subsidies or pay-outs, and, best of all, when the government is seen as living up to its noble post-GE 2011 promise to be ‘servant leaders’, ideology is no longer important or even relevant.

4. The inclusive approach will go well beyond the provision of basic amenities of affordable housing, roads and medical care, and conspicuously include a whole slew of measures to actively promote those domains of finer pleasures and deeper self-fulfilment, such as the arts, sports, recreation, self-development, lifestyle choices, community projects, humanitarian and environmental causes. Such an enlightened and sweeping liberalization by the PAP government, so different from the strictly commercial ventures normally associated with it, is exactly what will appeal to the young, the idealistic, the well-heeled, the very groups that probably voted against the PAP in GE 2011.

5. The only domain that will not benefit from this opening up will be the political one, mainly because of an ingrained, intense dislike of political opposition per se, an attitude best exemplified by Mr Lee Kuan Yew. This domain will be systematically isolated, ending up forgotten in the overall excitement of a burgeoning, blossoming society taking its place among the best in the world. If the idealists give up the fight, withdraw into obscurity or simply shrug and move over to the other side, it will be a welcome outcome for a government determined to erase them quietly but permanently from the political landscape. By the next election it may see fit to employ certain, very subtle measures of control to curb the power of the Internet crowd that it had so badly underestimated in GE 2011, but will shrewdly make it appear as a decision that comes from the people themselves, for the sake of social orderliness and stability.

6. In order to soften its image of harsh repression, it will allow, perhaps even encourage, political criticism of the harmless kind, for instance, the raucous political satire of theatrical productions which affect only a small group of theatre-goers. It may approve of the occasional, hard-hitting political commentary in the mainstream newspapers, that nevertheless knows how not to go beyond the famous out-of-bounds markers. But it will make it difficult for political clubs to be set up in schools, colleges and universities. At all times, it will avoid giving the impression of harsh intolerance, aware of bad press, regionally and internationally, especially if its ranking in global surveys of press and political freedoms continues to be dismal. Securely plugged into the global order because of its aggressive brand of capitalism, it will be increasingly sensitive to world opinion, and will make sure, for instance, that the critics of the proposed setting up of a Yale-NUS (National University of Singapore) school of liberal arts will not have cause to say, ‘We were right! Another example of the Singapore government’s suppression of academic and individual freedom! Yale should have never tied up with NUS.’ At all times, it will maintain a fine balancing act between keeping its benign public image and its private distaste for political opposition; if there has to be any tilting, the distaste will prevail.

7. If by the next general election, it regains electoral ground lost in GE 2011, which outcome is likely if it continues to prosecute its policy of inclusiveness systematically and opportunistically, this question may be asked with some anxiety: will it go back to its old model of governance which it had always been more comfortable with? After all, if the driving force for the re-invention and the people connection had come, not from any genuine change of mind and heart, but mainly from election pressures, could it as easily disappear once these did?

The above is admittedly a rather pessimistic reading of the signs and a dismal prognosis of the future of the political scene in Singapore. (I confess that my exuberant optimism during and immediately after GE 2011 has since subsided considerably) It is inevitable that a close analysis of any complex situation soon uncovers elements that otherwise go unnoticed, and it will always be the onerous task of political observers to temper enthusiasm with doses of skepticism. It will also always be the hope of the skeptical observer to be proved wrong.

Throughout this analysis, one sobering observation is clear: that the government’s policy of inclusiveness rather paradoxically excludes a certain sector of the population and citizenry—the political dissidents. This group, usually characterized by a strident individuality and combative style, may not be very likeable to the majority. But no society is without its small core of activists who, at the very least, it has to tolerate (unless of course they are a threat to society through their espousal of violence) Since the activists have made it their lives’ work to expose the ills and deficiencies in their society and agitate for change, they could, under certain circumstances, be the very agents of change and renewal, the very mutant genes, to use a common biological analogy, that can give new resilience to a species and even save it from extinction.

With reference to the Singapore situation, they have the right, like other Singaporeans, to benefit from the benign reach of a new policy that likes to draw attention to its inclusiveness. To consign them to the margins of society is, at the least, to define that term inadequately, and at the worst, to make a mockery of it.

Following the shock results of the General Election of 2011 (GE 2011) there was, as expected, a flurry of commentaries analyzing the causes. But the analyses omitted what could turn out to be the most interesting and intriguing one of all. Thus while they examined, with forensic thoroughness, the people’s anger against the unpopular PAP policies related to foreign workers and the ministerial salaries, while they scrutinized the resentment against PAP arrogance, they paid little attention to what I have rather facetiously called PAP Fatigue, that is, an overwhelming sense of weariness with a ruling party that has been around for far too long.

The weariness would appear to be part of human nature, a natural disposition to react negatively to an imposed environment of oppressive sameness and uniformity, the reaction being all the stronger when there is no prospect of change.

For nearly 50 years, Singaporeans had never known any form of government except the one-party rule of the PAP, had never been exposed to any but the authoritarian and peremptory PAP style, had never experienced democracy except the carefully edited PAP version.

Some years ago, on the occasion of the fortieth anniversary of the party’s rule, then Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew declared that since the PAP government was the best, it should be around for the next 40 years. If he had his wish, it would mean that Singaporeans would have to live permanently with PAP fatigue.

Yet into the twenty first century, conditions in Singapore were already ripe for political change. For the society was arguably among the most technologically advanced and globally connected in the world, and the most aggressively capitalistic. This meant that Singaporeans were well exposed to other forms of government, to examples of properly functioning, two-way government-people relationships, examples of robust civic societies.

Why then, for nearly half a century, did the Singapore electorate choose to endure PAP Fatigue?

The reason must lie in the special compact between the PAP government and the people, which though only implicit, was nevertheless strong and binding. According to this compact, the government would provide the people with the highest possible level of material prosperity, political stability and social orderliness, and the people, in return, would show full co-operation and support for whatever decisions the government made and whatever policies it chose to enforce.

So under a rule far longer than any seen in other countries, during which the PAP exerted control in virtually every domain of life, the fatigue factor, because it was not allowed free expression, simply settled into a general docility and conformity of thinking, feeling and behaving. If it dared rouse itself into political agitation, it was quickly smacked down by that fearful instrument of control, the Internal Security Act or ISA, by which activists could be detained without trial. And there was also that equally feared instrument, the defamation suit by which political critics could be financially crippled for life.

Through it all, the people must have constantly reminded themselves that it was still a very worthwhile trade-off, for they were enjoying a degree of prosperity unmatched in the region. In any case, even if they wanted an alternative government, there was simply no prospect of any, since the existing opposition parties were just so pitifully small, weak and helpless. Taking into account all these factors, Singaporeans must have come to the conclusion that their lot, though somewhat complicated, was by no means a bad one.

Hence, it did not matter that outsiders were making unflattering observations of us, for instance, that Singaporeans had become a nation of unquestioning and compliant subjects, incapable of acting on their own, with no interests beyond bread-and-butter concerns and the famous 5Cs of social success. Singaporean students might perform brilliantly in exams but were woefully lacking in independent thinking, creative expression and social skills. The Singapore media and other public institutions were predictably, boringly pro-Establishment. Most of all, there was no identifiable Singapore culture beyond the ubiquitous food centres and shopping malls.

If in a general election, PAP Fatigue managed to surface in little pockets of angry voting, it made no difference whatsoever to the general state of affairs. This was true of all the previous 11 elections; after each one, the antagonism duly subsided, the people went back to their accustomed acquiescence and the government to its accustomed strongman methods. It was business as usual.

So what happened in the 12th election to make GE 2011 so different as to be called a defining election, a watershed, after which things could never be the same? Had the fatigue factor finally reached the stage of ‘enough is enough’, and struck back as a retaliatory force that took by surprise even the supremely confident PAP? Had it managed to link up with the other causes of voter discontent, to form one huge, super anti-PAP force that actually did the unimaginable, that is, compel the PAP leaders, led by the Prime Minister himself, to offer public apologies in an amazing display of contrition, humility and earnestness never seen before?

And did this extraordinary outpouring imply something that was just too good to be true: that in future the government would think twice before ramming through one unpopular policy after another, such as the deplorable one of the ministerial salaries?

Indeed, it may be said that what the people accomplished in GE 2011 was nothing less than historic—putting an end to fifty years of political apathy, fifty years of a losing compact with the government.

At this stage of my deliberations, a very pertinent question may be asked: Is this a true picture of GE 2011 and its outcomes? Or it is somewhat exaggerated, overly optimistic?

We’ll see. Going further in the deliberations, I am now going to suggest that the main reason for the obvious effectiveness of the fatigue factor was the concurrence of two special happenings, unique to GE 2011, which interacted to produce an effect that neither on its own could have achieved.

The first was the emergence of a group of voters who, by virtue of a natural restlessness and impatience were the most likely group to turn PAP Fatigue into an active fighting force. These were the young voters, in their twenties and thirties, many of them first-time voters, with the natural tendency of youth to get easily bored and start clamouring for change.

Thus even the mere fact of the PAP’s very long presence in the political scene would have been enough for the fatigue factor to kick in and make a difference in votes. But what seriously aggravated this fact was the perception of the young voters, accompanied by strong resentment, that the PAP government had become totally indifferent to their needs and aspirations.

They were, in the typical language of youth, ‘pissed off’ by certain well-known attributes of the PAP which, though generally detestable, were especially repugnant to the young.

These included the overbearing, intolerant and patronizing approach that was so stifling to their vibrant and creative energies; the elitism, superiority and highhandedness that offended their youthful ideals of equality and fair play; the inflexibility, stiffness, and formality that were at odds with the casual, spontaneous, friendly manner that they favoured.

If additionally, this group shared the overall voter perception that the PAP, despite its claims of high standards of leadership, was becoming too lax, complacent and arrogant, and losing touch with the common people, then the hostility would have been that much greater.

The second mentioned special happening in GE 2011 was the emergence of a force which provided exactly the hope that these disaffected young voters needed, exactly the channel for their blocked and frustrated energies. This was the amazingly revitalized Workers’ Party, the clear star of the opposition.

It quickly came to represent for them all that the PAP lacked: a simple, casual, unassuming style that dispensed with pomp and ceremony (there was a post-election picture in the newspapers showing the party chairman in a Hawaiian shirt riding a bicycle and another one of him conferring with his new constituents in a Spartan setting of basic furniture set up in an HDB void deck); a bold, creative flair for new ideas, as seen in the party slogan of ‘A First World Parliament’ that clearly resonated with these young voters ; a calm dignity throughout the hurly burly of the hustings, which must have impressed them deeply because it contrasted so sharply with the shocking display of vindictive anger by a senior PAP member.

Perhaps the most attractive attribute of the Workers’ Party for these young Singaporeans was something that the PAP had routinely and contemptuously dismissed as irrelevant in leadership, but which the young, in their media-saturated world, prize highly—charisma. A newcomer in the Workers’ Party, was quickly seen to embody this quality: he had not only the dazzling credentials of a top academic, entrepreneur and CEO, but also the glamorous good looks of a star (A female newspaper columnist wrote gushingly about his choice of a certain style of shirt, showing him in three pictures smiling like a true celebrity basking in the adulation of fans)

In short, these young voters saw the PAP as old, dull and stale, belonging to the past, and the Worker’s Party as new, bright and hip, pointing to the future.

The prominence of this group of voters on the electoral stage may irritate some PAP sympathisers and provoke this question: Why bother about them when they do not, after all, comprise the majority, and, in any case, will soon outgrow the immaturity of youth?

The conclusion which the PAP leaders have probably already reached is this: this group of voters cannot be ignored; on the contrary, they must be singled out for special attention and wooing, for numerous compelling reasons.

Firstly, they will be active voters for a long time to come, and must therefore be quickly weaned from their present hostility. Secondly, they are the young citizens, in an ageing population, whom the government will have to depend on for the country’s future development, and who must therefore not feel alienated enough to want to leave the country and emigrate. Thirdly, they belong to the increasingly powerful world of the Internet and the social media, which no government in the world can afford to ignore. Fourthly, because in GE 2011, they clearly had the support of a large number of older voters who could easily identify with them, they might be setting a dangerous precedent—starting a trend of strong generational unity within the anti-PAP camp that could only work to its advantage.

Lastly, and perhaps most significantly, the exuberance, boldness and defiance of the young voters, operating in the new media world of instant, dazzling communication, could be infectious enough to have an unstoppable snowball effect, engulfing other groups of voters, including even those normally sympathetic towards the PAP. In fact, something like this could already have happened, as may be inferred by the 40% vote against the PAP in the General Election swelling to an alarming 65% vote against the PAP-endorsed candidate in the Presidential Election some months later.

In short, possibly for the first time in Singapore’s electoral history, a small core of young voters had provided the sparks that started a fire that could set off a whole conflagration if not stopped.

Thus it was not surprising that the PAP quickly swung into a massive campaign of damage control, repair and rebuilding. The Prime Minister announced, almost immediately after GE 2011, that the PAP would ‘re-invent’ itself in order to win back the people’s trust. The term is a much stronger one than ‘self-renewal’, used to describe an on-going exercise in which young potential leaders are systematically recruited and trained to replace the older leaders, to prevent complacency and carelessness from ever setting in.

‘Re-invention’ implies much more than self-renewal—it means a complete overhaul, a transformation, a born-again PAP that has an entirely new compact with the people. As if to convince the people of his utter sincerity, the Prime Minister used another, even more impressive-sounding word: he told the nation that from now onwards, he and his team would be ‘servant-leaders’. (I remember gasping at the use of the word) ‘Servant-leaders’—the ultimate oxymoron that must have made many people sit up and ask: did I hear right? Never had a prime minister so earnestly pledged so drastic a change of leadership style, so soon after an election.

At this point, I have to come in as a skeptic, and show the other side of the GE 2011 picture, which I fear is not at all pretty. I believe that the PAP is incapable of re-inventing itself, because true re-invention would require the opening up of one crucial area, that the PAP seems determined to keep under control at all cost. This is the area of political liberties—open debate and criticism, independence of the media, public assemblies and street demonstrations for a cause, etc., all of which are taken for granted in practising democracies.

Over the years, the government had reluctantly made small concessions, such as allowing a Speakers’ Corner, relaxing some censorship laws, tweaking a rule here, tinkering with another there, never going beyond these small, meager offerings that Singaporeans had no choice but to accept because there was nothing better.

In this regard, PAP Fatigue has an additional meaning for political critics like myself—a frustrating, exhausting weariness with the PAP government, not because it has been around too long, but because during this long period of rule, it has not seen fit to nurture the people politically, and has failed to provide the proper environment for political education and growth. This right of the people is so basic and fundamental that no amount of material wealth can compensate for its denial or loss.

Still, assuming that the Prime Minister is sincere in his pledge and that he understands the mood of high expectancy in what may be described as Singapore’s version of the Arab Spring, the following questions are pertinent. Just what can the PAP government do to win the people’s trust, and once and for all, establish a proper basis for a working government-people relationship? To match the watershed expectations generated by GE 2011, what watershed act of re-invention is it prepared to undertake? With special reference to the by now obvious threat of the PAP Fatigue phenomenon, what can the government do to prevent it from ever appearing again, not only among the young voters, but the entire Singapore electorate?

Some months ago, a group of 16 ex-political detainees jointly petitioned the government to set up a commission of inquiry to look into the allegations against them. The petition was promptly dismissed; the government later issued a terse statement to say that since all the proper procedures about the matter had already been taken, no further action was needed.

I was acutely disappointed. For I thought that the PAP had missed a fantastic opportunity to prove to the people that it had the honesty and courage to face up to its past excesses and take responsibility for them, or, as the case might be, that it had the strength and dignity to stand by the principles on which it had acted. Either way, it would have won the respect and regard of the people. Moreover, it had also missed the chance to show Singaporeans what is surely the noblest quality to come out of any conflict—the grace and magnanimity to reach out to former foes in reconciliation and new amity.

Indeed, a Commission of Inquiry with its urgency of purpose, potency of authority and high public visibility, would have been the ideal combination of powerful symbolism on the one hand and political will in real action, on the other, to bring about the event needed to signal the dawn of a new era. In one fell stroke, it would have banished that long-standing affective divide between the government and the people, an emotional estrangement that neither side wants. In the practical language of Singaporeans, it would have been a win-win situation for all—the government, the ex-detainees, the people, the entire society, even future generations. If only. If only.

The unfortunate truth is that the PAP remains adamant on keeping a tight lid on political and civic liberties. While it takes a generous and liberal stance in the opening up of all other areas—education, the arts, entertainment, lifestyle—it has built a firewall around the political domain. While it has readily agreed to commissions of inquiry for national mishaps such as the Nicoll Highway collapse, the escape of top terrorist Mas Selamat, and more recently, the major breakdowns in the MRT, it draws a line at matters that might engulf the whole nation in political questioning and debate, for which it has the strongest antipathy.

Indeed, so averse is the PAP to the subject that, as many of us may have noticed, it even shies away from using words such as ‘democracy’, ‘human rights, ‘ ‘political reform’. And yet these are matters at the core of a government-people relationship if it is to be based on transparency, respect and trust.

I will maintain that as long as there is no real political opening up (two weeks ago, in his New Year message, the Prime Minister spoke about a ‘political transition’ but I don’t think he can ever bring himself to talk about ‘a political opening up’, or ‘political reform’) and as long as political dissidents feel they may be punished in one way or another, for instance, by new and subtle uses of the ISA which the government has made clear it has no intention of repealing, the so-called transformation after GE 2011, will, at best, be a partial one only, and at worst, a travesty of all the noble promises that had been made. What a pity. Once again, the ‘if only’ sigh of wistful longing!

If only, to their very substantial material achievements, the PAP could add the non-material, but equally important achievement of enabling the society to move steadily towards political liberty! I am not talking about the disruptive, wild excesses of democracy seen in some countries; I am talking about a sensible, responsible exercise of democratic rights that surely Singaporeans are capable of, at this stage in the development of our society.

The skeptic in me wants so much to be an optimist. I am terrified that if nothing comes out of GE 2011, nothing ever will, out of any future election. It will be business as usual, in the most hideously fatalistic sense of the word.

My best hope lies in the young Singaporeans I have been so enthusiastically talking about, those young voters who, in GE 2011, converted the fatigue factor into a voice that the PAP government was forced to listen to. Over the years, as they continue to be exposed to the outside world, as they become more discerning, more critical, more engaged, I hope that they will continue to use PAP Fatigue as a tool for change, always constructively and wisely, always with the well-being of the society in mind.

Most of all, they must persevere in nudging forward, respectfully but relentlessly, an exasperatingly resistant PAP government that prefers, if at all, to take such painfully slow, such painfully small steps along the path of political reform. Reform there must be. For only then can Singapore come into its own, only then can it claim to be a successful society in every sense of the word, and take a proud place among other societies in the world.

Today, six months later, the high emotion has subsided, on the part of the PAP, into a gently conciliatory exercise of placation and reassurance, the leaders promising to bring about change and to connect better with the people, and, on the part of the electorate, into an alert, wait-and-see stance.

Among these watchers there must be a fair number of optimists, bright-eyed with excitement, who look forward to a new society led by a government generously turning an election setback into new inspiration and motivation to serve the people better.

There must also be an even larger number of skeptics, narrow-eyed with suspicion, who think that despite the much-publicised post-election ‘soul searching’ by the PAP leaders and their fervent promises of change, the government will remain essentially the same: the ‘new normal’ in their currently adopted slogan, will simply be the old normal cleverly trotted out in a new dress.

As a political commentator who had closely watched the GE (and a few months later, the Elected Presidency Election which saw a continuation, indeed a sharpening, of the people’s anger and disenchantment), I would like to attempt to answer the questions that must be uppermost in the minds of many Singaporeans during this post-GE period: Just what is happening? What can we expect? Will Singapore society be truly transformed? To what extent will those lavish election promises be kept?

Instead of the usual straight political exposition, I thought I could use the dialogue to present the various issues at hand. The interlocutors are the Optimist on one side, and the Skeptic, on the other, each taking a standpoint diametrically opposed to the other’s. The dialogue as a genre has two advantages: firstly, its debating format of proposition followed by rebuttal makes for a focused examination of each issue raised. Secondly, it allows for the authentic tone and emotional flavour of coffee-shop talk and online chatter.

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.

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.