Free speech, ethnic harmony and Watain

Societies everywhere have become too sensitive about speech. One person taking offence should not be grounds for the police to investigate speech (as regularly happens in Singapore). The broadening definition of micro-aggressions on US campuses is proof of this heightened sensitivity globally. I was quite shocked and disappointed to hear, for instance, that the University of California, my alma mater, had decided that it is a micro-aggression “to say that ‘America is a land of opportunity’, because it could be taken to imply that those who do not succeed have only themselves to blame.”

That doesn’t mean absolutely anything should be permissible. Freedom has its limitations. And while I instinctively disagree with the concept of “safe spaces”, this objection is secondary to a broader, more urgent notion: that the main imperative in society must be to enable different voices to be heard, to promote the free exchange of ideas. The internet has changed the dynamics of all this incredibly, and there is a great piece on content regulation at Reddit here:

“Does free speech mean literally anyone can say anything at any time?” Tidwell continued. “Or is it actually more conducive to the free exchange of ideas if we create a platform where women and people of color can say what they want without thousands of people screaming, ‘Fuck you, light yourself on fire, I know where you live’? If your entire answer to that very difficult question is ‘Free speech,’ then, I’m sorry, that tells me that you’re not really paying attention.”

If we accept that the free exchange of ideas—and not free speech per se—is the more important ideal for a thinking society, then we must first be aware that in any multicultural, unequal city, different groups will have varying levels of confidence in expressing themselves (for reasons of culture, history, income, access, etc.). Thus while my instincts lean towards free speech—with the usual exceptions of hate speech and incitement—I can also see why it may be prudent in certain, limited circumstances to allow for narrow “safe spaces”.

What does all that theorising mean in practical terms? Well, for a global city like Singapore, if we want to encourage, say, the Muslim community or the LGBT community to share their thoughts, we may need to create—again, in specific, limited circumstances—spaces for them to do so without fear that their core beliefs will be attacked.

That must never be a general rule, of course. In any thinking society, all religious doctrines—not the believers themselves—must be subject to open interrogation. I know there are many in Singapore who believe that religions must be immune from criticism, but I’m sorry—we live in a world where people kill in the name of God and priests fuck little boys captive to God. (Pardon my French but when describing paedophiles my niceties betray me.)

So for instance in Singapore, if pastors want to criticise what they might consider the indecent dress sense of gays, the law should not stop them—even if their own dreadful fashion sense might. Similarly if gays want to criticise perceived homophobic passages of the Bible or the Qu’ran, the law should not stop them—even if their respect for the beliefs of others might. But none of these people should be able to criticise relentlessly anywhere and everywhere, such that they frighten off gays and Christians and Muslims from communicating.

All of the above is nice in theory—including the definition of hate speech—but much harder in practice. But every society must try.

Do I trust Singapore’s partisan ministers to be the arbiters of this? Absolutely not. However noble their intentions, they have repeatedly shown that they do not possess the requisite sensitivity to do so.

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Let’s take a recent example: the banning of Watain. I was actually inspired by the many Singaporeans speaking up, sometimes to great comedic effect, against government overbearingness, hypersensitivity, and the intolerance of a moral minority.

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The deliberate spread of falsehoods and misinformation

Yes this is a problem everywhere from India and Myanmar to Russia and the US. The consequences can be horrific.

But in Singapore? One can reasonably argue that the People’s Action Party (PAP), the government and the mainstream media channels it controls have historically been some of the main sources of falsehoods and misinformation (in terms of reach and impact).

Exhibit A

In the late 1980s, Lee Hsien Loong, then trade and industry minister, was one of the politicians who alleged that a group of people were plotting a Marxist Conspiracy.

In 2001, Tharman Shanmugaratnam, then senior minister, said “from what I knew of them [the alleged conspirators], most were social activists but were not out to subvert the system.”

Sadly, one of our two leaders has got his facts wrong. Since both statements are still in the public domain, I hope our new, superpower “true-or-false” ministers will soon decide and strike down the lie.

Exhibit B

During campaigning at the 2015 General Elections, Lianhe Zaobao, a Singapore Chinese paper, published allegations from a poison pen letter suggesting that Daniel Goh, the Workers’ Party candidate, had had an affair with one of his students. The Straits Times and Channel News Asia repeated the allegation, the latter with a salacious “Did he or did he not?” teaser.

One reason falsehoods and misinformation are of global concern today is because of their potential to affect elections. At Singapore’s last election, the worst and possibly only instance of widespread misinformation was produced by three of Singapore’s mainstream media channels.

One curious clause in the government’s new bill is General Exemption #61. “The Minister may, by order in the Gazette, exempt any person or class of persons from any provision of this Act.”

Well, dear reader, you don’t need to guess whom they are going to exempt; they already did so in the last election—none of those mainstream media channels were punished.

Likewise, no action was taken against PAP politician Charles Chong, whose printed flyers made a wild, false accusation against the Workers Party ahead of the election. Quite the contrary. After spreading what seems to be fake news, Chong was appointed chair of the government’s fake news committee (yes, you read that right.)

Of course there are anti-PAP campaigns of falsehoods and misinformation, like The Real Singapore. I have no respect for such publications. But the salient point is that because of their highly limited reach, none of them have had any material impact on the government’s or the PAP’s reputation thus far.

Whereas in the above two examples there was an immediate—and for the first, still ongoing—impact.

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Finally, this may not represent “a deliberate” spread of misinformation but is in my opinion—I think I’m still entitled to that—highly regrettable and irresponsible online behaviour from PAP politicians Seah Kian Peng and K Shanmugam.

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“Galileo before the Holy Office”. Galileo, accused of heresy, was kept under house arrest until his death.

Perhaps what bothers me most about Singapore’s new “fake news” law is the sheer brazenness of it. The idea that a group of partisan ministers can determine what is true or false for the whole of society reflects a way of thinking out of touch with reality and lacking in humility (yes, theoretically the courts are the final arbiters, but practically the ministers probably will be).

While I do think some law is necessary to tackle the very real scourges of falsehoods, hate speech and other online hazards, it’s preposterous to give a politician (or any partisan person) the power to decide what’s legit.

Have we learned nothing from Galileo?

Cherian George articulates my concerns (here and here) far better than I ever could, so rather than dwell on the law itself I’d like to set its brazenness against the larger backdrop of what worries me as a writer in Singapore today: the slow death of  honest discourse.

What the People’s Action Party (PAP) has been recently doing to opinions it doesn’t like—and the people who voice them—is damaging and will eventually exact a heavy toll, I believe, on our country.

In some ways there has never been a better time to be a writer in Singapore. There are more media companies and publications based here for numerous reasons, financial, geographic and otherwise; more desire for Asian perspectives on Asia; and more interest in Singapore itself. This contributes to more opportunities for writers and other “content creators”. All this is happening alongside wonderful technological advances that have enabled much of our work to be done remotely—I am staring at Pasir Ris Beach while typing this. (I know; poor me.)

Yet when it comes to commenting about Singaporean society and politics, the mood is about as gloomy as it’s been in the past decade. Academics have been shunned or exiled for things they’ve said; activists have been charged for innocuous acts that would be passé in any other developed country; alternative media channels, many of whom rely on government advertising, have resorted to avoiding controversial topics; and many mainstream media journalists feel censorship reasserting itself.

There are only two groups of thinkers/writers/media peeps operating freely in Singapore now: those who do not cover Singapore; and those who do but would never say anything critical about the PAP or its policies, like the party’s newest fanboy, Nuseir Yassin (aka Nas Daily). Everybody else is working with fear. “Nobody is safe [from prosecution],” a friend recently told me. “Remember Li Shengwu.” Even Lee Kuan Yew’s grandchild, a Harvard professor, has been charged for a private Facebook post and effectively exiled. Nobody is safe.

This does not bode well for our country. At a time when the future is uncertain—identity politics, terrorism, automation, inequalities, the rise of leggings—we should be encouraging a diversity of voices to help us think through issues. Instead, we are creating a climate of fear that is starving public thought.

But first, let’s see what’s happening to journalists and speech globally.

The global chill

Time Magazine’s 2018 Person of the Year issue had four covers featuring different persecuted journalists: the staff of Maryland-based Capital Gazette; Burmese Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo; Filipino Maria Ressa; and Saudi Jamal Khashoggi.

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