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.

It was an evening of fun and hilarity, celebrated with family, relatives, friends, ex-students, ex-colleagues, fans and well-wishers.

What made the occasion special and meaningful for me was that it was used to benefit certain charities that I had been supporting. Instead of the customary birthday gifts, guests were requested to make donations to these charities. My publisher Marshall Cavendish, on their part, brought out attractive, commemorative box-sets of my books (which can be purchased from their office at Times Centre).

Turning 70 was for me both exhilarating and alarming, for I suddenly realised that: 1. I had attained the biblically revered milestone of Three Score and Ten 2. I had left the delectable-sounding league of Sexagenarians to enter that of the rather grim-sounding Septuagenarians 3. I had gained membership of the Super, de Luxe Class of Senior Citizens in Singapore, who enjoy the full benefits of the Confucian edict of respect for the old in society 4. I had also gained membership of the club of the ‘Graying Population’ with its full quota of gout, arthritis, a porridge-only diet, dentures, walking sticks, etc.

However, on balance, I will say, in the language of the young, that being 70 can still be hunky dory. For it gives me the confidence to look back on my life and actually have a good laugh at the many, varied and rather colourful roles I have played—as a teacher, a writer of fiction, a political critic, a feminist, a swinging single on luxury cruise ships. In the process of laughing at myself, I am tempted to take a good-natured dig at the lighter side of our Singapore culture, such as out ‘kiasuism’, our 5Cs, our Singlish.

So it was in this cheerful frame of mind that I belted out the following rather rambunctious birthday song at my party (sung to the tune of an old favourite that nobody above the age of sixty should pretend not to know):

A woman’s a creature who’s sweet, just and wise,
So men, for your mistakes, you must ‘pologise,
But what if she’s wrong and is thus blameable?
Oh, c’mon, you fellas, that’s not possible!

A man is a creature who’s full of ego,
So bent on his bragging he’ll never let go,
He’ll boast of that tool of his manly success,
And adds on the inches it doesn’t possess.

A feminist is someone in womanly prime,
Says Yes to her man, but she wins all the time,
So men always come before women, I see,
But, mind you, that’s only—in the dictionary!

A playboy is someone with charm, dash and style,
Seduces the women with wit and with guile,
So pleased with his skills that he’ll never give up,
So don’t take him for that low-class ‘hum-sub’!

A teacher is someone you simply adore
Despite all that homework she gave you galore,
Despite all that scolding you bravely withstood,
Because, as she said, it’s all for your good.

A writer is someone who dares to express
The lusts and the longings of passion’s excess,
The secrets, the drama of passion’s sweet strife,
She makes up in fiction what she lacks in real life.

A critic is someone who’s reckless and free
To needle and poke at the powers that be,
She even takes on the Supreme PAP,
Oh surely that’s foolish, and so ‘mm-chai-see’!

A single when she is past youth and beauty
Can’t wed or have babies, a national duty,
The government won’t match-make to fulfil her wish,
So she goes on those cruises, to catch that big fish.

Merlion’s a symbol of dear Singapore,
An icon of beauty, and oh! so much more,
It shows that we do have a culture so nice,
So don’t only think of that famed chicken rice.

A Condo, a gold Card, that prestigious Car,
Or is it our King Cash that’s mightier by far,
Is there a sixth C that will suit you just fine?
Well, dream on, you fellas, of that sweet Concubine.

O Singlish is our own dear lingua franca,
Despite its poor grammar and use of the ‘lah’,
Now here is a sample of its charm and flair:
‘Wah, Cat Lim, the Gahmen, she humtum, don’t care!’

A ‘kiasu’ is someone who’s so full of fear
Of losing that bus seat, that precious free beer,
This label he’ll carry through life, and what’s more,
He’s also, poor fellow, a ‘kiasi’, ‘kiabor’!

A sex life is good, so the experts all say,
It takes you to Heaven and back all the way,
It gives you that radiance, the zest and the zing,
And makes you feel richer than old Li Ka-Shing.

A cheongsam’s a costume with cunning appeal,
It just seems so modest, but seeks to reveal,
Just think of those side slits that tease and torment
That long-lasting species, called ‘Dirty Old Men’.

A birthday is awkward at age seventy,
With wrinkles and bad knees and aches a-plenty,
No more all that flirting, those pinches and winks,
They call you ‘Dear Auntie’, and oh! how that stinks!’

The commemorative box set

Dr Catherine Lim receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award from Chiam See Tong and his wife, Lina Chiam. (Source: Yahoo! photo)

One of Singapore’s best-known authors Catherine Lim said on Friday that the People’s Action Party (PAP) is incapable of reinventing itself.

Her view was in response to Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong’s speech at a PAP convention last November where he said that the party has to reinvent itself to “build a new PAP for a new era”.

The 70-year-old was speaking at socio-political blog The Online Citizen’s (TOC) Awards Night where she was conferred the Lifetime Achievement Award by Singapore People’s Party secretary-general Chiam See Tong.

Lim, who is a frequent critic of the government, is best known for her social commentary story in 1994, titled The PAP and the People – A Great Affective Divide, which sparked controversy with the ruling party. Since then, she has published numerous novels and political commentaries.

In her acceptance speech, Lim said that even if the party can achieve reinvention, what “watershed action of reinvention” is the party prepared to undertake.

“Reinvention would require the opening up of one crucial area that the government is determined to have tight control over. This is the area of political liberties — open debate, criticism, independence of the media, public assembly, street demonstrations for the cause, all of which are taken for granted in practising democracies.

“Over the years, the government had rather reluctantly made some concessions — allowing the speaker’s corner, relaxing some censorship laws, tweaking a rule here, tinkling with another law there, but never going beyond these small legal offerings. Singaporeans have no choice but to accept because there was nothing better,” she added.

Pointing out the case of the 16 political detainees who called upon the government in September last year to set up a commission of inquiry to look into the allegations said against them, Lim noted that the petition was promptly dismissed and no further action was taken.

Lim was referring to the allegations made against the 16 Internal Security Act (ISA) detainees who were detained for their involvement in “subversive activities which posed a threat to national security”.

Among the detainees were Barisan MP Chia Thye Poh who spent 26 years in detention and was one of the world’s longest-held political prisoners. Chia was a 1960s socialist intellectual and opposition MP who was accused of being a communist subversive, a charge he firmly denied.

“I thought that the government had missed a fantastic opportunity to show Singaporeans that it had the honesty and courage to face up its past excesses or to take responsibility for them. Or as the case might be, … stand by the principles on which it had acted,” said Lim.

“They’ve missed the opportunity to show Singaporeans what to me is the noblest quality that can come out of a conflict and that is the grace and the magnanimity to reach out to former folks in a spirit of reconciliation and amity,” she added.

Lim also added that there is a “PAP fatigue” among Singaporeans that is a result of PAP’s lack of nurturing Singaporeans politically, and failing to provide the proper environment for political education and growth.

“Ideally, as long as they don’t open up, and as long as political dissidents feel like they can be punished some other way. … then the so called transformation from the GE will be at best a partial one,” said Lim.

View full transcript of the acceptance speech.

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.