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clare_tan_wenhui's review
5.0
This is less of a review of this book, but more of a random musing. I will not reiterate his views, which are very well expressed in the book. Agree or disagree as you might, go have a read through it, that is ultimately his point.
I managed to complete it within 2.5 days exactly just before Prof George's conversation session this afternoon.
What led me thinking, after today's conversation, was his point brought up his concession that the future narrative of Singapore will remain fully within the control of a select few, and it was his hope and wish that through his penning of this book, he would be granted an audience with these future leaders, and from there hopefully initiate and effect change for Singapore.
For myself, the layman Singaporean reader now in mid 30s, with a sadly underachieving portfolio, my days of dreaming to be a trail blazer, and part of something bigger has fizzled out. Thus, the question that gnaws away at me (albeit selfishly), is that where does that leave me, this puny ineffectual Singaporean, in the bigger scheme of things in life in Singapore? Is it really exactly as Prof George has jested, that I need only buy more copies of this book to share with others, and hopefully it finally gets into the hands of one of the future leaders of Singapore? Feels rather... I don't know. Should I bother anymore with anything?
I managed to complete it within 2.5 days exactly just before Prof George's conversation session this afternoon.
What led me thinking, after today's conversation, was his point brought up his concession that the future narrative of Singapore will remain fully within the control of a select few, and it was his hope and wish that through his penning of this book, he would be granted an audience with these future leaders, and from there hopefully initiate and effect change for Singapore.
For myself, the layman Singaporean reader now in mid 30s, with a sadly underachieving portfolio, my days of dreaming to be a trail blazer, and part of something bigger has fizzled out. Thus, the question that gnaws away at me (albeit selfishly), is that where does that leave me, this puny ineffectual Singaporean, in the bigger scheme of things in life in Singapore? Is it really exactly as Prof George has jested, that I need only buy more copies of this book to share with others, and hopefully it finally gets into the hands of one of the future leaders of Singapore? Feels rather... I don't know. Should I bother anymore with anything?
fengyuseah's review
3.0
made some good points. nothing particularly new or groundbreaking but pleasant. would've liked it to go more in-depth
jwsg's review
4.0
Cherian George makes clear in the preface that Singapore, Incomplete is “not a manifesto...you will be frustrated by this book’s lack of a clear programme for change.” Instead, this collection of essays is meant to provoke debate and conversation, to make the reader “look at our society in new ways”.
Cherian’s criticisms of the political system would not be unfamiliar to many Singaporeans. But he argues succinctly and cogently that the system and philosophies that got Singapore to where we are today are neither sustainable nor desirable in the current context. Cherian points out that Singapore has a “culture of fear”. But the fear that exists is not just on the part of citizens, who are wary of crossing some invisible and shifting OB markers. Cherian argues that much of the Singapore system has been shaped by the PAP’s fears of what will come to pass if the current controls and boundaries were lifted. Singapore’s very identity is one that is premised on the fragility of its existence, that this peace Singapore enjoys can be shattered in an instant. Therefore, “[t]emplate government speeches refer to Singapore’s cultural landscape as ridden with ‘fault lines’, a geological term that treats our multiracial, multireligious character as a permanent risk factor, ready to erupt in violent disorder if we are not vigilant…In line with this bleak view, Singapore’s Racial Harmony Day doesn’t commemorate, say, the drafting of the national pledge, with its inspiring premise of unity beyond race, language or religion….it marks the anniversary of the 1964 race riots that killed 22. The overriding ideological message is not we’re diverse, let’s celebrate; it’s we’re diverse, so beware”. The question Cherian poses (no recommendations, remember, this is not a manifesto) is how Singapore can create space for diversity and see our diversity as a strength, rather than a weakness.
Fear of “inconvenient truths” and narratives that challenged its own, Cherian argues, led to the creation of media policies that silenced naysayers and critics. Ironically, the lack of open discussion on issues that were festering on the ground left the government blindsided when these toxic sentiments boiled over (e.g. the uproar over the Population White Paper in 2013 and the ugly xenophobia demonstrated by certain segments in Singapore when the Filipino community wanted to celebrate their Independence Day at Ngee Ann City Civic Plaza in 2014).
Fear of the conflict and protests that might arise should the status quo shift has resulted in censorship decisions erring on the side of conservatism (And Tango Makes Three, Ken Kwek’s Sex.Violence.Family Values) lest the materials in question caused offence to certain segments of the population. Cherian argues that these incidences show that Singapore’s “public bodies are underprepared for cultural disputes over identity and morality”. So public institutions try to sidestep controversy rather create procedures to tackle complaints and pressure tactics head on. Sidestepping controversy is one approach. A policy of “zero tolerance” (notably in the case of Amos Yee) is another. But Cherian points out that while “zero tolerance has worked well for Singapore in other areas, especially in combatting corruption…because corruption can be defined in a clear and objective way”, this is not the case with “provocative speech, which is always subjective and consensual.”
But above all, fear of outcomes that the party cannot control and that might be detrimental to its interests. Hence what Cherian terms “calibrated coercion”, a suite of subtle and surgical tools that the government could use to achieve its outcomes, without the use of blunt, clumsy force (like the ISA). So militant unions were tackled first by detaining labour activists, then more fundamentally restructuring labour relations by establishing the NTUC and creating a symbiotic relationship between that organisation and the PAP. Student activism was tackled by arresting troublemakers, then shutting down Nantah, vetting prospective hires and installing pro-government individuals at the helm of the universities. A media that supported nation building was created via the Newspaper and Printing Presses Act in 1974, which gave the government the power to name newspaper companies’ directors (which gave them a say in appointing editors and setting the editorial direction of newspapers), and required newspaper companies to be listed on the stock exchange, with no shareholder controlling more than 12 percent of its stock. As such, since the 1980s, the post of SPH chairman “has always been handed to a former senior public servant or minister.” And there were other supplementary tools, like the use of Singapore’s defamation laws, first against opposition politicians and subsequently online critics like Roy Ngerng.
He suggests that this fear on the part of the PAP stems from the political leadership’s relatively cocooned existence. “Politicians in most other countries reach the top only after long years of callus-forming battles against strong opposition, adversarial media and outspoken constituents. In contrast, candidates for high political office in Singapore are plucked from the more protected environs of the civil service and military. Most would have been psychologically unprepared for the online vitriol. The experience may have persuaded the leadership to write off Singaporeans who want more political space as unreasonable and impossible to please.”
In his earlier book, Air Conditioned Nation, Cherian discussed the politics of control in Singapore. In Singapore, Incomplete, he argues that this form of politics – this “unique blend of comfort and control” – is increasingly untenable. Singapore is unique in many respects. But Cherian points out the many oddities of political and cultural life in Singapore that one might find difficult to justify even given Singapore’s unique context. For instance, the IMDA’s “astonishing practice of posting consumer warnings on art with political themes” for instance. (Tan Tarn How’s 2011 play Fear of Writing was tagged “Mature Content” because “it presents the characters’ perspectives on the issue of freedom of expression, with references to the situation of political apathy and self-censorship in Singapore”.) Cherian notes wryly that “Singapore must be the only advanced country where public bodies in charge of the arts…treat exposure to politics as if it were sex or violence.” So used are Singaporeans to the “still waters of Singapore politics, they react queasily to the slightest notion. This leads them to react in a hostile manner to critics who believe they are acting in good faith and in the public interest, putting down individuals who get into trouble for opposing the government or responding with derision to (losing) opposition candidates for being stupid enough to contest against the PAP.
Cherian argues that it is only by opening up that the PAP will learn to “adapt to [the inevitable shift towards] freewheeling domestic political contention”, rather than insulating themselves from competition and debate. But this is a difficult shift to make if the party views the world through a lens of fear, rather than one of confidence borne from over half a century in power.
Cherian’s criticisms of the political system would not be unfamiliar to many Singaporeans. But he argues succinctly and cogently that the system and philosophies that got Singapore to where we are today are neither sustainable nor desirable in the current context. Cherian points out that Singapore has a “culture of fear”. But the fear that exists is not just on the part of citizens, who are wary of crossing some invisible and shifting OB markers. Cherian argues that much of the Singapore system has been shaped by the PAP’s fears of what will come to pass if the current controls and boundaries were lifted. Singapore’s very identity is one that is premised on the fragility of its existence, that this peace Singapore enjoys can be shattered in an instant. Therefore, “[t]emplate government speeches refer to Singapore’s cultural landscape as ridden with ‘fault lines’, a geological term that treats our multiracial, multireligious character as a permanent risk factor, ready to erupt in violent disorder if we are not vigilant…In line with this bleak view, Singapore’s Racial Harmony Day doesn’t commemorate, say, the drafting of the national pledge, with its inspiring premise of unity beyond race, language or religion….it marks the anniversary of the 1964 race riots that killed 22. The overriding ideological message is not we’re diverse, let’s celebrate; it’s we’re diverse, so beware”. The question Cherian poses (no recommendations, remember, this is not a manifesto) is how Singapore can create space for diversity and see our diversity as a strength, rather than a weakness.
Fear of “inconvenient truths” and narratives that challenged its own, Cherian argues, led to the creation of media policies that silenced naysayers and critics. Ironically, the lack of open discussion on issues that were festering on the ground left the government blindsided when these toxic sentiments boiled over (e.g. the uproar over the Population White Paper in 2013 and the ugly xenophobia demonstrated by certain segments in Singapore when the Filipino community wanted to celebrate their Independence Day at Ngee Ann City Civic Plaza in 2014).
Fear of the conflict and protests that might arise should the status quo shift has resulted in censorship decisions erring on the side of conservatism (And Tango Makes Three, Ken Kwek’s Sex.Violence.Family Values) lest the materials in question caused offence to certain segments of the population. Cherian argues that these incidences show that Singapore’s “public bodies are underprepared for cultural disputes over identity and morality”. So public institutions try to sidestep controversy rather create procedures to tackle complaints and pressure tactics head on. Sidestepping controversy is one approach. A policy of “zero tolerance” (notably in the case of Amos Yee) is another. But Cherian points out that while “zero tolerance has worked well for Singapore in other areas, especially in combatting corruption…because corruption can be defined in a clear and objective way”, this is not the case with “provocative speech, which is always subjective and consensual.”
But above all, fear of outcomes that the party cannot control and that might be detrimental to its interests. Hence what Cherian terms “calibrated coercion”, a suite of subtle and surgical tools that the government could use to achieve its outcomes, without the use of blunt, clumsy force (like the ISA). So militant unions were tackled first by detaining labour activists, then more fundamentally restructuring labour relations by establishing the NTUC and creating a symbiotic relationship between that organisation and the PAP. Student activism was tackled by arresting troublemakers, then shutting down Nantah, vetting prospective hires and installing pro-government individuals at the helm of the universities. A media that supported nation building was created via the Newspaper and Printing Presses Act in 1974, which gave the government the power to name newspaper companies’ directors (which gave them a say in appointing editors and setting the editorial direction of newspapers), and required newspaper companies to be listed on the stock exchange, with no shareholder controlling more than 12 percent of its stock. As such, since the 1980s, the post of SPH chairman “has always been handed to a former senior public servant or minister.” And there were other supplementary tools, like the use of Singapore’s defamation laws, first against opposition politicians and subsequently online critics like Roy Ngerng.
He suggests that this fear on the part of the PAP stems from the political leadership’s relatively cocooned existence. “Politicians in most other countries reach the top only after long years of callus-forming battles against strong opposition, adversarial media and outspoken constituents. In contrast, candidates for high political office in Singapore are plucked from the more protected environs of the civil service and military. Most would have been psychologically unprepared for the online vitriol. The experience may have persuaded the leadership to write off Singaporeans who want more political space as unreasonable and impossible to please.”
In his earlier book, Air Conditioned Nation, Cherian discussed the politics of control in Singapore. In Singapore, Incomplete, he argues that this form of politics – this “unique blend of comfort and control” – is increasingly untenable. Singapore is unique in many respects. But Cherian points out the many oddities of political and cultural life in Singapore that one might find difficult to justify even given Singapore’s unique context. For instance, the IMDA’s “astonishing practice of posting consumer warnings on art with political themes” for instance. (Tan Tarn How’s 2011 play Fear of Writing was tagged “Mature Content” because “it presents the characters’ perspectives on the issue of freedom of expression, with references to the situation of political apathy and self-censorship in Singapore”.) Cherian notes wryly that “Singapore must be the only advanced country where public bodies in charge of the arts…treat exposure to politics as if it were sex or violence.” So used are Singaporeans to the “still waters of Singapore politics, they react queasily to the slightest notion. This leads them to react in a hostile manner to critics who believe they are acting in good faith and in the public interest, putting down individuals who get into trouble for opposing the government or responding with derision to (losing) opposition candidates for being stupid enough to contest against the PAP.
Cherian argues that it is only by opening up that the PAP will learn to “adapt to [the inevitable shift towards] freewheeling domestic political contention”, rather than insulating themselves from competition and debate. But this is a difficult shift to make if the party views the world through a lens of fear, rather than one of confidence borne from over half a century in power.
thearbiter89's review
4.0
I picked this up in 2017 and read half of it before giving up because it was bumming me out. That's not to say that I found it objectionable - far from it - but its incisive elucidation of the state of affairs in this country was disheartening, and the prescriptions, while sound, didn't seem like they would be heeded by either the populace at large or the extant regime.
Fast forward to 2020 and I thought I'd try to finish the book properly this time - especially timely considering the state of affairs we're all in - and I must say, while it remains hard-going for the same reasons as before, I still find that everything in it rings true. And if one had been expecting some salutary change, the reality is that the upstairs has been doubling down in exactly the ways Cherian George said they would. This is still a timely book: one that adroitly describes our arrested political development with a lucidity and self-awareness rivaled by few commentators in the local political scene. Seeing the online furore that he keeps getting into these days - whatever he's doing must be working.
I give this: 4 out of 5 white shirts
Fast forward to 2020 and I thought I'd try to finish the book properly this time - especially timely considering the state of affairs we're all in - and I must say, while it remains hard-going for the same reasons as before, I still find that everything in it rings true. And if one had been expecting some salutary change, the reality is that the upstairs has been doubling down in exactly the ways Cherian George said they would. This is still a timely book: one that adroitly describes our arrested political development with a lucidity and self-awareness rivaled by few commentators in the local political scene. Seeing the online furore that he keeps getting into these days - whatever he's doing must be working.
I give this: 4 out of 5 white shirts
shad_reads's review
5.0
Bloody depressing but soberly and brilliantly written. I want to buy this as a Christmas present for everyone I know.
breadsips's review
5.0
10 stars for this man, and for this book. The most required reading this year.
jeeleongkoh's review
4.0
Articulate, thoughtful, and humane, these short accessible essays, originally written as blog posts, tackle a whole range of issues regarding governance, media, and politics in Singapore. They adopt a highly reasonable tone. The advocacy of free speech, certainly a highlight of the collection, is the best defense by any Singaporean writer that I've read. Still, I find it hard to share the author's optimism in the next generation of leaders in the governing party and civil service. Any meaningful change will not be from within the establishment, but will be forced upon it by a truly powerful political movement. The political question is where such a force may arise.
judithhuang's review
5.0
Timely, eloquent and necessary. I hope the right people read this and bring George’s ultimately optimistic vision of Singapore’s future to reality.
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