Rising anti-Indian sentiment in Singapore

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Dear friends in Singapore, I am writing because there appears to be an uptick in anti-South Asian prejudice recently, and I hope the moderate and sane among you can do what you can to extinguish little fires if and when you see them.

Seemingly harmless statements like “Eh, why Indians again ah?”, if left unchecked, can lead to resentment, if even in the smallest, most subconscious of ways.

Of course I don’t support the actions of her highness the sovereign, or her imitator, but there is no need to make it racial. Have you heard about the Chinese and Malays and Others who have threatened safe distancing ambassadors, including one who tried to stab them? (Check out this YouTube video called “Compilation of Crazy Singaporeans during Circuit Breaker period”, bottom of this post)

Why do I say there is an uptick? Three things have alerted me:

a) Last week three or four separate Chinese friends were doxxing the wrong Indian lady. I had to respond to each individually, most didn’t even know it was a crime.

(Some said: “Nothing to do with race. Just curious.” My response: “When is the last time you doxxed a Chinese?”)

b) Individual Indians have written to me to share their experiences both in real life and online. Some of the commentary online is really vile.

Two things have surprised me: first, usually moderate Chinese will be quick to stand up and knock down the racists, either directly or with humour (“Is it because I’m Chinese?” being a great example). This time the moderates seem to be silent, possibly because of our overall cognitive dissonance amid COVID. Too much on our minds.

Second, there seems to be more anti-Indian sentiment coming from some Malays online than I’ve seen in the past.

To be clear, I know these racists are just a tiny minority in every group. I am not suggesting it is broad-based.

c) My race video published last year (see above) has over the past week suddenly become popular among some Indians. People are sharing it as a form of solace, solidarity, I’m not sure, and then sending me random messages of thanks.

Some wondered why I had only published on Facebook. I have now published it on YouTube. Feel free to share it if you think it’s helpful.

Finally, what are the reasons for the uptick? This is complex, and will take some time, but I believe in a nutshell there is a conflation of some anti-migrant worker sentiment and the more recent anti-sovereign sentiment, set against the backdrop of long-standing anti-CECA feelings.

The conspiracy theorists will argue that Singapore’s politicians are only too happy for this anti-sovereign, anti-South Asian rubbish to distract society while they are facing tough questions. (“Deny responsibility, find a scapegoat, incite a culture war”)

At the moment I have no reason to believe such theories. I am however keeping a close eye, looking to see how authorities handle online abuse, among other things.

No doubt, Singapore’s politicians have repeatedly in the past used race and religion as tools to further their own agenda, as I discuss in above video.

Take care, stay safe, be kind to everybody, whatever their skin colour or station! We are all in this together.

#sovereignmyass

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Ode to Mustafa

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Forget the Hawker Centre. If you want to observe what some might call Singaporean integration—others inequality—visit Mustafa.

Go at six on a Monday morning to see Mrs Nose Up-in-the-air, striding confidently to the daun kusum aka laksa leaves for her famous home-made laksa for her lunchtime group of tai tais who these days are called investors. If she returned at three on a Sunday afternoon, she might see the Bangladeshi bloke who just tiled her floor trading glances with the Filipino lady who will soon clean it.

In between Mustafa is lit by the rainbows of our time, people from the Himalayas to the far-flung islands of eastern Indonesia, backpackers from Scandinavia to techies from California. You might never know to which station each bedazzled face belongs, for in Mustafa the Rich dress down and the Help dress up.

Mirroring Singapore’s own evolution, Mustafa, in the blink of an eye, went from neighbourhood market to global emporium. There is perhaps no other place on this planet where one can, in under an hour, buy petai, the green Malayan “stinky bean”, Mexican Cholula hot sauce, a sari, a Rolex, and a sixty-inch Samsung TV.

Yet the hour will be manic, as you hustle through narrow aisles, on which star-struck Mustafa virgins dither while drawing the ire of assassins. Shopping at Mustafa is not for the faint of heart nor the sensitive of touch. For those accustomed to neat, orderly Singapore, visiting Mustafa is an arresting experience. To help, one magazine has published a “Survival guide to Mustafa Centre”.

When you enter your bags will be stored, when you walk your movements will be watched, when you pay your shopping bags will be strangled with no-nonsense plastic cable ties, and when you exit your body and bags will be surveyed. Mustafa is so chock full of goodies that it deploys airport-level security. But it is also so unmistakably South Asian. Its dispassionate enforcers always seem less concerned with you than their next chai break.

Global cities have grown to encompass parallel worlds—the crazy rich, the sane poor, the numbed middle—that bob alongside each other yet rarely overlap. Mustafa is that rare vortex that sees them crashing into each other, repeatedly. For a global city to survive, the one who eats only idli must believe that halwa is within reach.

Click to continue reading on Rice Media, where this was first published.

Top image: The Finder Singapore

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I wrote this piece a year ago for a SG bicentennial book, “We, the citizens of Singapore”. The book consists of essays written by different Indian Singaporeans, and will be published later this year. Though not for sale, it will be made available in public libraries and other community spaces. Other contributors include social activist Noor Mastura, soprano Janani Sridhar, poet KTM Iqbal and civil servant Aaron Maniam.

I am grateful to the editors for allowing me to publish the story early. We agreed that an upbeat migrant story might be appropriate now.

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Some recent corona-related writing

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Photo by Rob O’Brien/Flickr

Dear reader, if you follow me on Facebook you might find the below repetitive. This is mostly for the benefit of those who don’t.

It’s been a busy month, as many of us have felt the need to speak up about the horrible COVID-19 crisis at Singapore’s migrant worker dormitories—what I have called “independent Singapore’s biggest ever humanitarian crisis”, a phrase that has been picked up. Good.

There has also been a lot associated racism and xenophobia.

Writing has been especially taxing because assorted censors have sprung up all around society, seeking to shut us up. My posts below, some satire, touch on these aspects.

Thankfully there has also been a lot of support from readers. Much appreciated!

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Singapore: Let’s not ignore the downtrodden; nor those who speak up for them

On April 9th I published a commentary in New Naratif about the migrant worker crisis. First few paragraphs here:

Singapore has rightly won plaudits for its pandemic response thus far. Yet the recent emergence of clusters of infections at four foreign-worker dormitories shows that complacency is creeping in. What can we learn from this episode?

Consider first the warnings that were ignored. On 23 March, in a letter to The Straits Times’ Forum page (“Employers’ practices leave foreign workers vulnerable to infection”), Transient Workers Count Too (TWC2), a Singaporean NGO focused on low-wage migrant workers, called on the government to provide better accommodation for workers and crack down on errant employers. These are pleas that TWC2 and others have made for years, but with added urgency amid the Coronavirus pandemic.

Coincidentally, the very next day, the Singapore government announced that it would begin to house returnees from the UK and the US at hotels, including five-star luxury ones on Sentosa, for their mandatory fourteen-day isolation. After some initial disgruntlement, it appears like most returnees adjusted to their new routine, finding solace in that beloved Singaporean pastime: one-upping other countries to feel good about ourselves. Nowhere else in the world, so it goes, would potential vectors be isolated in such decadence, able to enjoy biryani, bubble tea, care packages from loved ones and fresh laundry dangling from the doorknob.

Click to continue reading on New Naratif

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On April 10th I published a rebuttal to all those who were seeking to get “critics” to shut up in this time of crisis.

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Stop all complaining and criticising, Singaporeans. It is time to get behind our government. Politicians are already working so hard—what more you want? “Do not demoralise them [her team] with finger-pointing,” says Jo Teo.

Well isn’t that bloody convenient?

When things were going well, your party and its sycophants gleefully dissed others. Your provocateur in chief, “Our Beng”, filled an evening with his inane jokes, targeting Hong Kong and all the idiot Singaporeans around.

(Hey, Beng. Have you seen the latest figures? Carrie Lam has you in her pocket.)

It would be one thing if such mindless “Don’t complain” waffle was spewed by PAP fanatics. But over the past week I’ve seen it all over the internet, from the unlikeliest voices, people somehow transformed into PAP goons by patriotism’s worst instincts.

I think many in this group mean well, in a Singapore semangat, gotong-royong kind of way #SGunited

Sadly your desire to mute criticism is misguided, foolish, and even dangerous. We need the “critics” in civil society to help us mind gaps, even more so now.

Of course Jo Teo wants citizens to look away. Continue reading

Why I have yet to install TraceTogether, Singapore’s COVID-19 contact tracing app

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In a perfect world with complete trust in Government, every Singaporean would download the TraceTogether App to assist in national COVID-19 contact tracing efforts. Thus it is unfortunate that some of us do not yet have the requisite level of trust.

Unfortunate firstly because it seems like our brilliant techies engineered an app that has sufficient safeguards for those concerned about government surveillance.

The location and nearby-contact data sit on your phone, and are accessed by MOH only in specific COVID-19 circumstances with the user’s consent; TraceTogether is quite clearly designed to assuage privacy concerns, to allay fears of Big Brother.

The technical solution is so elegant and light, in fact, that governments around the world have asked us for the source code. Now that is something for Singaporeans to be proud of, not some humdrum comment by Barbara Streisand.

(All that said, an oversight by the TraceTogether team has just been exposed, reconfirmed directly by a contact of mine at GovTech. The original app included in its build wogaa.sg, a government data collection service, which means that TraceTogether collects more data than necessary and compromises its supposed anonymity and 21-day data hygiene. Thankfully GovTech is working to remove wogaa, a standard feature in such products, in TraceTogether’s next iteration. However the oversight, specifically the team’s unconscious acceptance of code that collects and sends your data to the government, is worrying for those of us concerned about social conditioning to surveillance. Separately, Digital Reach has also raised concerns in an article titled “TraceTogether: Disassembling Was Not Easy to Verify the State’s Privacy Claims“.)

For us not to download TraceTogether is also unfortunate because this pandemic is akin to a war with shadowy enemies such as ISIS. It is a time when some suspension of civil liberties, including privacy, may be warranted.

Many civil rights advocates will disagree. After all, we are living in an era of creeping authoritarianism around the world, when individuals seem to be unwittingly signing away their rights to Big Government and Big Tech. Yuval Harari articulates many of these concerns in “The World after Coronavirus”.

Nevertheless, there does appear to be a more conscious acceptance, especially during this COVID-19 period, of the need for intrusions into our private lives when it comes to dire issues of national security.1

The important caveat is that there must be accountability and transparency regarding the intrusion, and any other suspension of civil liberties, in order to prevent abuse. There must be appropriate societal checks and balances, whether through independent commissions, government watchdogs or the media. Citizens need to know that we can seek redress for any injustice or suffering because of the intrusion.

And this is where Singapore fails.

There are countless episodes in our history that prove the point. The most obvious one is the alleged Marxist Conspiracy of 1987.

That year Singapore’s Internal Security Department (ISD), under orders from the People’s Action Party (PAP) leadership, arrested twenty-two Singaporeans, a mix of activists, church and social workers, and theatre performers. The government accused them of plotting a Marxist conspiracy to overthrow the state. They spent different amounts of time in prison, the longest three years, without ever being charged for anything. The ISD tortured some of them into making false confessions (so they claim).

Lee Hsien Loong, Singapore’s prime minister, and most others in parliament then, including K Shanmugam and Goh Chok Tong, have maintained these allegations. However people such as politicians Tharman Shanmugaratnam and S Dhanabalan, former attorney-general Walter Woon, and Singapore’s pre-eminent historian Mary Turnbull have raised doubts about them.

Many of us believe Tharman and the latter group. If they are right, this suggests that the alleged Marxist Conspiracy was a horrible attempt by the PAP to fix its perceived opponents.

What is the relevance of all this to TraceTogether? Well, put another way, it appears that in 1987, the ISD relied on intelligence unethically gathered, including its knowledge of friend networks, to help the PAP execute a dastardly political manoeuvre.

For TraceTogether, on the one hand, GovTech has told us about its privacy safeguards and about the special circumstances under which MOH can request data. On the other, GovTech reports to the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO), helmed by the same person—take note, Barbara—who helped oversee the Marxist Conspiracy manoeuvre.

What assurances do we have that PMO (or ISD) will not somehow obtain and abuse the TraceTogether data sent to MOH, the same way personal network and contact data was (seemingly) abused in the arrest and detention of the “Marxist Conspirators”?

To be clear, this is not to suggest that TraceTogether is vulnerable or has a “backdoor”, or that it was cobbled together for some Orwellian purpose. There is widespread acceptance of its virtuous intent.

Rather, it is a belief that the dominant political forces have, can, and will abuse democratic norms for their own ends, with little recourse for victims or unsuspecting handmaidens.

To think of it another way, the technologists’ brilliance is clouded by their political masters’ (perceived capacity for) chicanery.

What can we do to rectify this situation? In the short term, not much. We are in the middle of a pandemic and have far more important things to do. (Like hold an election.)

But in the longer term, techies, policy wonks and others, this is what you can do: lobby your leaders and representatives, make sure they understand the need for accountability and transparency. 2 Perhaps we need a Commission of Inquiry into the alleged Marxist Conspiracy? And systematic declassification of documents after X years?

Only when Singaporeans trust the integrity of the entire socio-political process will we easily get buy-in for (seemingly defensible) surveillance. Some argue that surveillance in Singapore is already so widespread that any marginal risk from TraceTogether is negligible. Perhaps, but there is a fundamental difference between a government spying on its citizens and citizens voluntarily capturing and sending data whose integrity might later be compromised. Moreover, TraceTogether’s use of Bluetooth provides an additional level of granularity not otherwise available (say, through regular mobile phone user data).

So we need to have these conversations before the next crisis, natural or man-made, which probably won’t be far off. We need to nurture a society which, in the words of writer Jolene Tan, does not instinctively poo pooh claims of state abuse.

On that note, it is sad to see several on the pro-TraceTogether side dissing privacy advocates: “Oh you think you are so important that the G wants to track you?” Ad-hominem attacks like this only poison otherwise genuine exchanges.

The very essence of a panopticon, in fact, is to blur the lines between irrelevance and importance, to ensure that everybody excessively self censors. Singapore’s history is littered with examples of persecuted people—from the “Marxist” church workers to Jolovan Wham, social worker currently in jail for a Facebook post criticising the judiciary—who might have hitherto been considered by many to be “unimportant”.

Without doubt, GovTech deserves praise for TraceTogether, a nifty, well-intentioned addition to our COVID-19 arsenal. But one hopes GovTech can appreciate Singapore’s broader socio-political environment; and the numerous ethical issues we must work through, together, before such initiatives can achieve broad success here.

“Technology does not exist in a vacuum,” as a friend says. “The values and past histories of those who make it and own it influence how a technology will be perceived and accepted/resisted.”

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1 Countries everywhere, from Israel to South Korea, have implemented or are considering enhanced measures, which might worry civil rights activists, in order to deal with COVID-19.

2 Nobody is under any illusions that this will be easy. Given Singapore’s one-party dominance, there seems very little political impetus for this sort of accountability and transparency.

Note: I have yet to install TraceTogether. Am undecided. Ultimately, with countries everywhere rolling out their own contact tracing apps, we may all be forced, by custom or otherwise, to install it. (For the sake of our species! Gosh, are we there yet?)

Nevertheless, with a lot of misinformation and straw man arguments out there, it is important that people in GovTech and elsewhere understand the reasons for resistance among some Singaporeans. I hope this piece is read in that spirit, not as some attempt to undermine an impressive technology intervention to a public health crisis.

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Comrade Gorbachev Marx Homas, son, brother and adventurer, 2010-2020

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Two years ago, when Li Ling, the kids and I moved out of my parents house in Bukit Timah to our own flat in Pasir Ris, it was hardest on Gorby.

Ling and I had the benefit of time, foreknowledge, active hands in the process. Blooby, Gorby’s sister, had by then retreated to a familiar sedentary life of eat, sleep, and the occasional lizard, dragged in leaving a trail of blood, body parts strewn across the terrazzo floor.

But Gorby was still Mr Bukit Timah. We would spot him prancing around the actual Bukit Timah Road, near the Tessarina Apartments and Tan Chong Motors, a full two-hundred metres from our house. Unlike us, Gorby had two channels of entry/exit: regular sidewalk when pesky humans weren’t around, or the wide drain when we were.

Once Gorby went missing for a full eighteen hours. It was his first full night out. We grew anxious. When he returned the next morning, smelling of stale beer and garbage, I saw my younger self in him, remembering my own adolescent nights of too many Graveyards at Zouk, slobbering up the driveway after stumbling out of the cab.

Ling and I eventually figured out that Gorby must have gotten locked in the Tessarina’s rubbish room. Was it love that distracted him that night? While I appreciate stray cat challenges everywhere, a part of me still, father to son, regrets that we snipped him, that we stopped him from living a full life. Perhaps then not only his spirit, but his blood, would still be around.

There is some irony in the fact that Gorby, such a wonderful longkang cat, was not himself allowed some gutter sex, to father another longkang cat. On that note, please resist the use of “Singapore Special”, yet another in our globalising society’s subconscious efforts to eradicate Malayan colloquialisms in favour of bland, anglophilic universalisms. “Longkang cat” is much nicer, much more befitting of the samseng swagger of Gorby and his ilk.

Then there was the six month period when Gorby morphed into some Arnie-type Terminator, protecting my parents’ house from the marauding feline invaders. It was the only time his fur has ever grown stiff, his entire habitus electrified like a cartoon cat, one uni-shaped ball of energy.

Ling saw all this but I never did cos I’m too much of a chicken. Just the shrieks alone, when the cats ripped into each other as poor Ling screamed for them to stop, would give me nightmares. I would wait in bed for them to return, and then mutter something about the need to keep Gorby in at night. Ling would somehow manage in one breath to both admonish and cheer her boy, the protector.

In the weeks leading up to the move, I spoke more to Gorby. “Go! Leave the house! Enjoy the great outdoors while you can!” I like to think that he heeded my advice, that he roamed the neighbourhood while he could.

But nothing, not even salmon treats or Cheetos puffs, can really prepare you for the unknown. And so when Ling and I moved Blooby and Gorby to our eleventh-storey flat, it was paradise for one, prison the other. Blooby quickly settled in to her new, sheltered routine. True, her favourite lizards are less common here. But on the flip side she doesn’t have to worry about my younger sister, who loved scaring her, or my two nieces, whose shrill voices unintentionally scared her, or the countless visitors my semi-retired father would have trooping around “her” space. Blooby has become so decadently comfortable in Pasir Ris that she has ballooned and we have since put her on a strict diet.

Gorby, however, always seemed to have this quizzical look on his face in Pasir Ris. Where is the bigger playground? Where are the birds and squirrels? Why am I stuck so high? Where are you going when you step through those closing doors? How do I get back down to earth? OK, Mama & Papi, the joke’s over. When can we go back home?

I still feel bad for shrinking Gorby’s universe from one square kilometre to one Singaporean flat (and its balconies). There’s nothing wrong with the flat, of course. Singapore has some of the best in the world, Ling and I are loving every minute of it—and will be through the next hundred and fifty years of mortgage payments.

But Gorby, through no fault of his own, was spoiled. Should I be happy that Gorby spent his youth roaming, paws to earth as his ancestors might have? Or sad that he was forced through this emotional rollercoaster, his last days lived as another digit in the Singaporean high-rise matrix?

Gorby is my first BFF/ being/ loved one to have died during the COVID-19 pandemic. Not because of it, just during.

The coincidental thing, as Gorby will surely tell you when you see him in heaven, is that for two years now he’s been on a strict Stay at Home notice.

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I have nicknames for my closest friends. Crowd favourites include Nickelodeon for Nicole and Bombay Sapphire or Sapphy for my elder sister. Years after they met her, some friends like Jacko knew my sister only as Sapphy. In the days after Gorby died, serendipitous Facebook conversations lifted my spirit, like one about food between Bunny, Channy and Kecoh, all of whom knew Gorby.

While each nickname is special in its own way, I have always derived the most pleasure from introducing and explaining Comrade Gorbachev Marx Homas, or Gorby.

Gorby joined our house a year after Blooby did.

Continue reading

Chan Chun Sing, our beng?

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Everybody I know who knows Chan Chun Sing likes him.

Smart, folksy, straight-talker, authentic, humble beginnings, frugal, hard worker who tirelessly works the ground, all well known attributes. I like his accent and liberal use of colloquialisms.

I have enjoyed stories about how he likes driving his security detail around (rather than being driven) and how, in conversations with elite civil servants, he has championed the need to cultivate closer ties with our immediate neighbours, Malaysia and Indonesia, an issue close to my heart.

All that gives me reason for pause when critiquing CCS. In the ivory tower that writers sometimes appear to occupy, one invariably wonders about the image of a person that the media projects. CCS is not the bumbling buffoon caricatured by his kee chiu antics, something I’ve heard many times.

Yet, as with most things, there is value in the views from both near and far. From my  distant trench, the evidence that keeps emerging about him—the latest being a leaked recording of a closed-door discussion with the Singapore Chinese Chamber of Commerce and Industry (SCCCI)—only deepens my conviction that he has ascended far higher than he would have if we had genuine meritocracy at the top.

CCS, in other words, would probably make a great Permanent Secretary (PermSec), pinnacle of the civil service, or agency head, or possibly a more junior politician, somebody that can connect with, and rouse, the “heartland” ground.

That he has risen to our putative second in command worries me.

And the fact that many Singaporeans have actually praised CCS for his comments at SCCCI suggests to me that our bar for leadership is just so low.

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Many believe, firstly, that CCS’s explanation of the COVID-19 mask situation was indicative of transparency about stocks and logical decision-making. Yes, I enjoyed the clear-eyed thinking but then I remembered something: you and I were never supposed to hear that.

Instead the message the government publicly gave us was a cursory “Don’t wear masks if healthy, wear if sick”, which was confusing for all sorts of reasons.1

Instead of patting CCS on the back for being upfront with a closed group, we should ask: why did our politicians not treat us, all of us, as smart, responsible citizens and give us a fuller, more thorough explanation from the start?

Oh yes, that is a non-starter. A little more than a month ago, when CCS faced a parliamentary question from the Worker’s Party Pritam Singh about specific PMET employment numbers, his blithe, brow-beating response included “What is the point behind the question?”

If even our democratically-elected opposition leader is unable to easily extract basic data about our employment situation in parliament, then you and I, ordinary citizens, should be grateful simply to be told what day of the week it is.

CCS is a straight talker? Yes, for whatever he chooses to talk straight about.

Continue reading

Singapore leads the world in coronavirus fight

Ruling party politician sanitises public housing lifts

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Every day Singapore’s leaders make great sacrifices for the people. The Honourable MP Low Yen Ling (middle) is seen spending a Saturday guiding a seven-person team through the intricate task of cleaning an elevator.

To the Honourable MP’s right are three South Asian workers. They are wearing imported sneakers that their cousins working in Qatar cannot afford. They are wearing masks because they are either sick or are at serious risk of contracting the virus. In Singapore only the sick and frontline healthcare workers wear masks, as per our WHO (We Help Ourselves) Guidance Rules instituted in 1965.

Since one Bangladeshi worker has contracted the virus, every South Asian migrant worker is a potential carrier. Transmission can occur in their lush dormitories or on Sundays at Serangoon Road, the recreational area Singapore has graciously designated for these workers. (“Edgy, hipsterish, popular among backpackers,” says the Singapore Tourism Board. “Complete darkness,” says a ruling party politician #tellsitlikeitis)

The Honourable MP, standing next to one worker, is not a virus carrier and hence needs no mask. Likewise for the Chinese men.

The men are dressed in descending order of formality to show their respective positions in the Ai-Pi, Ai-Chi hierarchy (“Want cheap, want good”, in our delightful Hokkien dialect.) If the Honourable MP wants to say something to the workers, she will pass the message down the food chain. The man in the blue shirt will then relay it sweetly to his workers.

If the three Chinese men perform well, they will have a better chance of appearing next to the Honourable MP in future photographs. If not, they will undergo retraining so they can work in comfortable jobs riding subsidised electronic bicycles or rental cars.

Singapore thanks all seven for their contribution to total defence. Our benevolent government has given each Chinese one stack of toilet rolls. And each South Asian an equivalent gift: a year’s subscription to The Straits Times.

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[Above is satire.]

Image: MP’s FB

For the record, as explained in previous post, I think the Singapore government has done a pretty good job in its response to the virus outbreak.

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Corona notes from the Singaporean backline

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Image credit: Twitter/@ikansumbat

– Why the fascination with comparing ourselves to other countries and one-upping them? I’ve seen numerous HK vs Singapore comparisons, from Singaporeans, Bloomberg et al, that fail to acknowledge basic differences. A tad ignorant and lazy.

Do look at a map. And conduct a thought experiment. Imagine if the virus emerged not in Wuhan, but in peninsular Malaysia. And that there was the fear of infected Malaysians streaming across the causeway in search of goods and medical services.

I suspect the PAP’s fans wouldn’t be laughing at Carrie Lam.

– The Singapore government has done a pretty good job so far, given what little I know. It’s not easy calming nerves, trying to control the spread, while also keeping the economy going. Hysteria and shutdowns have costs. Over 20% of Singaporean households live hand to mouth. They have trouble buying tomorrow’s meals, never mind a month’s worth of noodles.

I wouldn’t give the G full marks because we had a nutty supermarket run over the past few days, fuelled partly by worries that the government is hiding something.

“You don’t need a mask if you’re healthy but you do if you’re sick”, the government’s message, never made sense because a functioning mask can make some difference if you are near an infected person; and everywhere you went, banks, hawker stalls, shops, so many customer-facing workers were wearing masks. (Were they all sick?)

Many Singaporeans concluded that the government was not being completely transparent about mask stockpiles. (And if so, then what else?)

– Nerves are frayed. Tensions high. I’ve had a few testy conversations over the past few days. One good friend hopped on the fake news bandwagon last week and then became very defensive when called out. Interestingly, this person was actually on a business trip abroad when he decided to inform those of us back home about supposed school closures. Concern, uncertainty, haste, panic.

Another one, a foreigner watching from abroad, castigated me for giving my government a rating of “pretty good”. Insufficiently effusive. I should have said “the best in the world”.

And for this heinous crime, all the old slurs were trotted out: Singaporeans don’t know what life is like in the developing world, we are living in a bubble, skewed views, spoiled brats.

Aiyoh. When will people finally realise that Delhi and Jakarta are not benchmarks for Singapore?

So 2000s…

– My “pretty good” came shortly after reading Lee Hsien Loong’s speech over the weekend, which I enjoyed, and which has deservedly been given lots of airtime overseas.

Interestingly, some friends who watched the speech over telly came away with the opposite impression: leaden, uninspiring, joke about noodles fell flat. Reminded me about the importance of medium and delivery.

– The racial elements and stereotypes fascinate me. And could be the subject of a piece once the dust settles. But this is what I gather so far.

First Chinese nationals, “zhongguoren”, made fun of themselves: bat, Wuhan jokes going around their own Weibo sphere. Then overseas Chinese, “huaren”, many in Singapore, made fun of the PRCs.

Then these same huaren got upset when other groups, like Singapore Indians, started lumping all ethnic Chinese together as “bat eaters” and “virus carriers”.

Singapore Indians felt a bit of schadenfreude at this prejudice. “Ah, now you Chinese know what it’s like to have people avoid you on trains, to get up and leave when you sit next to them.”

I actually felt this while riding on the MRT last week…such a strange, conflicting feeling, to know, after 42 years of living in a country, that you are no longer near the bottom of the (transportation) totem pole.

I’ve also heard stories that some South Asians believe they are naturally immune to this “Chinese disease”. Well, that’s at least before we had a Bangladeshi worker infected.

Finally, all the stuff about toilet rolls is great. “Why hoard? Why not just cebok, wash your bum?” has been the cry from Indians and Malays.

Background: Singaporeans have always cleaned their bums in different ways. Chinese tend to just use paper, Indians and Malays paper/wash or wash. Because of this, each side thinks the other is dirty.

“Eeeee, do you wash your hands after?” Chinese friends used to ask me in school. (“Yes. But I dig my nose first.”)

Well, here’s hoping that anal hygiene brings us together, strengthens Singaporean solidarity.

Stay safe. And if you are desperate for food or alcohol, drop by. I also, thanks to LiLing Ho, my wonky conservation wifey, have a year’s supply of unbleached bamboo toilet paper, which feels terrible on the ass but gets the job done.

For those of you, that is, who use paper.

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PS: my “peninsular Malaysia rather than Wuhan” example is not completely academic. Johor, for instance, has a reputation for its underground wildlife and bush meat markets. Bats, civet cats, monkey brain, some say even tigers. Possibly archaic practices, but still. A Singaporean cabby once told me that the finest meat he has ever tried is porcupine, in Johor.

PS2: Most of the panic buying appears to have been done by Chinese. Just read an interesting piece on the cultural differences between Chinese kiasuism and Malay lepakness (Drive caused by fear of losing vs being relaxed). Will mull…

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a longform on Hong Kong vs Singapore

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With Joshua Wong, secretary-general of pro-democracy party Demosistō. We were both speaking at The Economist’s Open Future Festival in Hong Kong on Oct 5th 2019.

Dear friends, I just published a piece on Rice Media where I compare Hong Kong and Singapore, the “socio-economic twins but political opposites”. Click to read it there. Or, for a preview, first few paragraphs below.

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Just don’t wear black. In early October that was the pre-arrival instruction I received from friends enmeshed in that modern urban war zone, Hong Kong.

“Don’t worry, you can wear black, nobody will think you are a protestor,” rebutted Tang, the jovial cabby in his fifties who picked me up from the airport, gesturing at my brown skin. But for Cantonese locals like him, wardrobe options have indeed become limited.

Black for protestors. White for their opponents. Red for China. Blue for the police, i.e. those alleged to have tortured some “blacks”. “Also no pink, no green,” Tang joked, lest he be mistaken for a homosexual or a bleeding-heart environmentalist.

“So I wear yellow. Yellow is safe.”

Tang rattled off other jokes—“Where is the most dangerous place in Hong Kong? The police station”—while glancing at his smartphone, which beamed a digital buffet of protest updates, video clips, cabby chatter, and yes, even the occasional phone call. Tang’s calmness, coupled with the quiet on the roads, put my mind at ease.

A few traffic jams and subway closures aside, the next week would prove one of the smoothest and most enjoyable I’ve had in twenty-five years of visiting Hong Kong. I discovered new nooks, traipsing around the lush Sai Kung pier in the northeast, alongside hikers and tourists from China and the West, and slurping up beef tendon noodles draped in a rich restorative broth, in a Cantonese joint near the Aberdeen Centre in the far south, not a word of English exchanged.

The dramatic television scenes of petrol bombs, shattered storefronts, and masked protestors clashing with police seemed a world apart from my visitor’s bubble.

Hong Kong’s protests over recent years have often been led by precocious adolescents who have persisted despite the annoyance of the older generation.

This year the generational divide has narrowed. “We will be gone in thirty years,” said Tang. “They have to fight for their future.”

This includes his daughter, who has just graduated from university in Savannah, Georgia. She had wanted to return to be with her friends after seeing the million-person demonstration this past June against a proposed extradition bill, the spark for this year’s protests.

“I said sure. But you pay for yourself [her air ticket]. Is that fair or not?” he asked me rhetorically. “Fair right?”

Alongside this acceptance of youthful idealism is a more sober expectation of short-to-medium-term economic pain. “Yes, business has dropped, some days maybe fifteen to twenty per cent less,” Tang admitted. “But then there are no more mainlanders around. So am I happy or sad? Hahaha.”

It has become commonplace in multicultural societies around the world for older immigrants to cast scornful eyes at prospective ones, for instance with second-generation Indian Americans supportive of Trumpian border control. It is one of the many bizarre symptoms of a world in which liberal ideas of nationhood and identity are being seriously challenged by nativist ones, against the backdrop of yawning economic inequalities.

Nowhere is this impulse stronger than among Hong Kongers, who have turned sharply against the land of their ancestors, less than an hour’s drive away. The prejudice can be vile, expressed in physical attacks and slurs like “cockroaches”.

Indeed, some of the fiercest Sinophobia one might experience around the world occurs in two of its richest Chinese-majority territories: Hong Kong and Singapore.

The cities’ differences and similarities offer a prism through which to better understand their relative fortunes, as well as the impact of global capitalism on Asia.

Comparisons Between Hong Kong and Singapore Since the 90s

Which Chinese-majority, East-meets-West, Asian Tiger city-state do you prefer: Hong Kong or Singapore? Over the past few decades each person’s answer to that has fluctuated in tandem with China’s emergence onto the world stage.

Continue reading at Rice Media, where this was first published.

 

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my talk on identity at The Economist’s Open Future Festival

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Dear friends, click below to watch my ten-minute talk on identity and multiculturalism in Asia at The Economist’s Open Future Festival in Hong Kong on October 5th.

I cite the different approaches to ethnic/cultural identity that we find in China, India and Singapore, and give my reasons why we all need to think a bit harder about our identity choices, given current larger forces at play in the world today.

In a sense, this Economist talk is a direct product of the brownface brouhaha in Singapore in July/August this year. I made a couple of videos on brownface and race, which got passed around by some of my former colleagues at The Economist Group in Singapore, Hong Kong and London. (Read more about my work there from 2006 to 2013.)

That in itself was surprising, because I thought the videos were hyper-local, what with my generous use of Singlish. I guess it shows that these issues are quite universal, no matter my bumbling delivery.

I took that as a cue, and decided to have a Singlish segment in this Economist talk. First time I’ve used so much Singlish at a “proper presentation” overseas. It went down well, especially with Thanathorn Juangroongruangkit, leader of the Future Forward Party in Thailand, who was laughing away in the front row (and later introduced himself). I guess South-east Asians have a soft spot for our Singlish!

It was both tougher and easier than other talks I’ve given. Tougher because it’s a big topic for ten minutes; and I felt the pressure of both the live stream and the very tight timing, the clock counting down at me from a screen at my feet. I missed a couple of lines, but oh well. Happens.

But easier because I had lots of support and encouragement from the floor, including a bunch of former colleagues and bosses, some who gave me many opportunities to speak and write early in my career, some thirteen years ago now.

Also great to have Singaporean buddies Amanda and Mel in the crowd, who kindly took me out for a smashing time after. Long time since I partied in Lan Kwai Fong.

Many have asked me about whether it’s safe to travel to Hong Kong now. My response: it’s the best time! Fewer tourists, hotels are cheaper, easy to get around. The protests are very well organised and planned, so you know where to go or not, you know whether to take the MTR or taxi. I had a great time (while also acknowledging the pain others on all sides are enduring…).

And, finally, very grateful to Kaiyang Huang and Rohan Mukherjee for helping me refine my arguments.

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There were many other cool segments at the conference, including this debate between Joshua Wong, Hong Kong’s most famous pro-democracy activist, and the pro-Beijing Shaun Rein, managing director of the China Market Research Group.