With Mas Selamat, who probably has more posters of himself than the entire population of Singapore, still at large, many questions have been raised and pretty much none answered. Lots of accusations and demands of resignation has been thrown all over, but beyond these political mumbo jumbo, I observed a few aspects of this fiasco which interests me. First is the conspiracy theory that he was killed; second is the question as to whether he's still in Singapore; third being the holy grail of all questioners: how did it happen? Here are my takes:
In the lack of information, it seemed that some people has taken to speculate and believe the possibility that Mas Selamat was killed inside the detention centre and the authorities spun this story to cover it up, fearing the backlash of human rights activists and whatnots.
It hardly need to be said how absurd this is. Suppose this were true. Then a few weeks later the JI members, wondering why their ex-leader has yet to come back to them, will start making noise, and then the whole cover-up will be exposed. To avoid this, the authorities can "catch and kill Mas Selamat" some time later, but that would pose problems with regards to the autopsy and all. And of all that, wouldn't it be simpler to just announce that he has died by unnatural causes like heart attack? Or if that's medically dubious, then say that he choked on a chicken wing. Sure, there may be some questions raised, but as compared to this?
In any case, I truly believe that he has escaped. Now, is he still in Singapore? It all depends on whether it was a planned course or a spontaneous event. If it's the former, then he would be far away from Singapore by now. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that his best chance is to leave Singapore immediately before the authorities can raise the alarm, which is ASAP. If it was spontaneous, i.e. the chance just came and he fled, then he's probably still in Singapore (but of course with help) until the authorities cannot maintain the high level alert.
And the golden question of it all: how did he escape? I do not know for sure, though the supposed Independent Commission is to shed some light on this. But given official statements so far, I think one can do a Sherlock Holmes and pieces them together. We know that he escaped through a toilet. We also know that MM Lee mentioned something about complacency. We know that he's due for a family visit (i.e. the place is open to certain outside people). Now, if we assume, very reasonably, that there are two different kinds of toilet - one for outside people (and maybe the ISD people there) and one for inside people (like Mas Selamat) - and keeping in mind MM Lee's praise of winning the trust of the guards, I think the puzzle sort of comes together.
So that's my thoughts. And if anyone's wondering, I do not think that the four hours lapse is unreasonable. Oh, one more thing: I didn't receive the MMS of his face... how did the government know that I'm bad at recognising people?
09 March 2008
20 January 2008
How Wrong is the Principal?
Following a Straits Times report of a principal dealing harsh words to a group of secondary 5 students, both the online and offline worlds have exploded in a furious mash of voices condemning the acts of the principal and dishing out voices of support and sympathy to the students. There were very few voices to the contrary, and even these are defending the general case and not the principal in specific. To me, it appears as if most people have jumped into conclusions, for I can yet determine if the principal spoke out of self-interest or did she, as the Minister of State for Education explained, meant well as she was giving the students a wake-up call. Certainly, she was wrong, but depending on whether she had ill intentions or not, she could be wrong in very different ways.
There are two possibilities: the principal wants a nice record for her school and herself because of it being a crucial factor to her salary and resume; there is also the possibility of the principal being truly concerned with the students, but chose very wrong words indeed. Both, of course, are wrong, but they are wrong in very different ways. There is also a common wrong in that she implied a low stature for the ITE, but I shall ignore this for the moment and consider the two possibilities.
Now, the first possibility seems to be the conclusion of most people's reasoning, for it was written in the newspapers that "she also stressed that she wanted 100 per cent passes in her school." Now, this is a very tricky sentence. First and foremost, we must note that it comes from the journalist's reporting, which may not reflect and may comprise a sensationalisation of the actual situation. Secondly, it is not clear where the source of this claim is. Was it from all the 27 students the principal spoke to? Was it from parents, who are more prone to overreacting as all parents will? Was it from one student, who may have misinterpreted the principal's words, for she could've very well said something like, "I want all of you to pass your exams" - a well-meaning sentence?
As for the second possibility of using wrong words, she might've made a poor decision in choosing to say what she said and doing what she did. Yes, it's wrong, but in my opinion - and I surmise many will agree with me - that this wrongness is not as dire as the first possibility, for after all it emerged from a true concern of the students. In fact, this can also explain the ITE comment. How likely is she to commit such a mistake? I don't know, but I know it is easy to make a comment (especially to a large crowd) and have it misinterpreted, having it happen to me numerous times.
I'm definitely not supporting the principal, but I'm not faulting her either. At least not yet. In my opinion, there is still a lot unknown to us. All these while, we have not heard the principal defend herself (other than in the initial report), for example. Therefore, for now, my conclusion is that there exists the possibility (and significant probability) that the principal is well-meaning but employed flawed words. It could be otherwise, of course, but how do we know?
There are two possibilities: the principal wants a nice record for her school and herself because of it being a crucial factor to her salary and resume; there is also the possibility of the principal being truly concerned with the students, but chose very wrong words indeed. Both, of course, are wrong, but they are wrong in very different ways. There is also a common wrong in that she implied a low stature for the ITE, but I shall ignore this for the moment and consider the two possibilities.
Now, the first possibility seems to be the conclusion of most people's reasoning, for it was written in the newspapers that "she also stressed that she wanted 100 per cent passes in her school." Now, this is a very tricky sentence. First and foremost, we must note that it comes from the journalist's reporting, which may not reflect and may comprise a sensationalisation of the actual situation. Secondly, it is not clear where the source of this claim is. Was it from all the 27 students the principal spoke to? Was it from parents, who are more prone to overreacting as all parents will? Was it from one student, who may have misinterpreted the principal's words, for she could've very well said something like, "I want all of you to pass your exams" - a well-meaning sentence?
As for the second possibility of using wrong words, she might've made a poor decision in choosing to say what she said and doing what she did. Yes, it's wrong, but in my opinion - and I surmise many will agree with me - that this wrongness is not as dire as the first possibility, for after all it emerged from a true concern of the students. In fact, this can also explain the ITE comment. How likely is she to commit such a mistake? I don't know, but I know it is easy to make a comment (especially to a large crowd) and have it misinterpreted, having it happen to me numerous times.
I'm definitely not supporting the principal, but I'm not faulting her either. At least not yet. In my opinion, there is still a lot unknown to us. All these while, we have not heard the principal defend herself (other than in the initial report), for example. Therefore, for now, my conclusion is that there exists the possibility (and significant probability) that the principal is well-meaning but employed flawed words. It could be otherwise, of course, but how do we know?
25 November 2007
Thoughts on The Australian Federal Elections
After a lengthy campaigning that began long before I arrived in Australia, the federal elections here has finally concluded, with what the nationwide newspaper in Australia, The Australian, calls it a Ruddslide. Opposition leader Kevin Rudd, of the Australian Labor Party, swept off long time Prime Minister John Howard to ascend the throne.
Not that I have a particular interest in the elections, but being here you can't help not noticing the major headlines. And it is quite fascinating to observe several trends in Australia and see how they compare with Singapore's:
1) Everyone says it is a landslide victory for Labor and a devastating defeat for Howard's coalition. Base on projections, the seat count gives Labor 84 and the coalition (Liberal + National) 48. If I recall correctly, someone was not happy with a victory of 82 against 2.
2) Labor supporters appear to be everywhere, and support for Liberal is quite invisible. But that just means that Liberal supporters are more silent than the Labor opposition. Similarity in Singapore? Election rallies, remember?
3) Howard may even lose his own seat in Parliament, with the Labor candidate gaining a slim margin over him in his seat of Bennelong. Of course Lee Hsien Loong was nowhere clear in losing, but his 66% is... erm... not a very proud victory by Singapore standards.
4) The ballot here involves putting priority your preferences. That is to say, if there are three candidates, you rank them in order of your preference. I think what happens is that during the voting counting the one with the lowest vote will be eliminated, and the votes going to them in first priority will go to the voters' second choice. Needless to say, this kind of system is hardly necessary in Singapore. We're still looking at reducing the number of walkovers...
5) The voters have to vote for members of parliament and members of the Senate. With a 82-to-2, there's no absolute need for that in Singapore; it's all the same.
Ah well, that pretty much sums up my thoughts on this interesting event.
Not that I have a particular interest in the elections, but being here you can't help not noticing the major headlines. And it is quite fascinating to observe several trends in Australia and see how they compare with Singapore's:
1) Everyone says it is a landslide victory for Labor and a devastating defeat for Howard's coalition. Base on projections, the seat count gives Labor 84 and the coalition (Liberal + National) 48. If I recall correctly, someone was not happy with a victory of 82 against 2.
2) Labor supporters appear to be everywhere, and support for Liberal is quite invisible. But that just means that Liberal supporters are more silent than the Labor opposition. Similarity in Singapore? Election rallies, remember?
3) Howard may even lose his own seat in Parliament, with the Labor candidate gaining a slim margin over him in his seat of Bennelong. Of course Lee Hsien Loong was nowhere clear in losing, but his 66% is... erm... not a very proud victory by Singapore standards.
4) The ballot here involves putting priority your preferences. That is to say, if there are three candidates, you rank them in order of your preference. I think what happens is that during the voting counting the one with the lowest vote will be eliminated, and the votes going to them in first priority will go to the voters' second choice. Needless to say, this kind of system is hardly necessary in Singapore. We're still looking at reducing the number of walkovers...
5) The voters have to vote for members of parliament and members of the Senate. With a 82-to-2, there's no absolute need for that in Singapore; it's all the same.
Ah well, that pretty much sums up my thoughts on this interesting event.
14 October 2007
Blog Migration
Due to some reasons, I will be changing the title of this blog and, because I want to retain all the previous posts in this blog, the URL as well. That is, I am moving this blog instead of creating a new blog.
However, a direct change of URL will cause many readers to be lost, especially those who do not visit this blog frequently. As such, I'm creating a transitional blog, which will house my postings for the time being and, in due time, announce the new blog URL. The transitional blog is at:
http://ablogintransition.blogspot.com/
I will leave this blog up at the old URL for about three weeks before changing it. So please change your bookmark to the transitional blog, and then again when the new blog URL is up. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience caused.
However, a direct change of URL will cause many readers to be lost, especially those who do not visit this blog frequently. As such, I'm creating a transitional blog, which will house my postings for the time being and, in due time, announce the new blog URL. The transitional blog is at:
http://ablogintransition.blogspot.com/
I will leave this blog up at the old URL for about three weeks before changing it. So please change your bookmark to the transitional blog, and then again when the new blog URL is up. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience caused.
04 October 2007
26 September 2007
The Feeling of the Present and of History
A drama is unfolding in Burma as I write. Monks and nuns, the most respected class of people in the Burmese society, are in open defiance against the ruling junta. Could it be just like two decades ago, when similar incidents culmulated in Aung San Suu Kyi's electoral victory? Right now, as it unfolds before the world's eyes, no one can guess where it will lead.
There is something that appears fundamentally different between knowing an event in history and an event unravelling in the present. In 1988, students took to the streets. Military suppressed them. Thousands were killed. It triggered elections. Aung San Suu Kyi won. The military refused to recognise election results. Their rule continued. That is history. It is as I know it. I was too young then to know it as it unfolded. I read it later in my life. I read it, as a piece of history, compressed and summarised. Time flowed in different beats: unimportant days were swept away in words no longer than a few seconds, and moments of importance were granted paragraphs after paragraphs that took minutes to read. The scaling of time when cast into words is twisted out of linear proportion.
But with the present, time is time. It is not scaled. It is not contorted. It is not shortened to slim boring periods and lengthen to fit critical events. One day is one day. One week is one week. One month is one month. The present becomes alive. Yesterday nuns took to the streets. Last week monks did so. Suppose a revolution were to come in a month's time. This month will not be a day long. It will not be a week long. It will be a month long. A month is a month. It is not like pages of a history book. Even if nothing goes on during this one month, time plods on unrelentlessly, unceasingly, unhurriedly.
That is, perhaps, why events unfolding as I read in the newspapers feel more real than events of the past. When I read an article about John Lennon's death there is a detached feeling about the whole incident. It is not as if I have not felt the loss of a great singer, but this loss feels muted. It feels as if the concrete of history has solidified. But when Luciano Pavarotti died, the concrete of history may have been laid, but it is still wet. Maybe this is the reason why people often say that times are getting more and more difficult.
Where will the events in Burma head from here? Will it be like two decades ago, a repetition of history? Or will a fresh chapter of democracy enter Burma's life? There is no flipping of pages to the important future events this time.
Feels so real, doesn't it?
There is something that appears fundamentally different between knowing an event in history and an event unravelling in the present. In 1988, students took to the streets. Military suppressed them. Thousands were killed. It triggered elections. Aung San Suu Kyi won. The military refused to recognise election results. Their rule continued. That is history. It is as I know it. I was too young then to know it as it unfolded. I read it later in my life. I read it, as a piece of history, compressed and summarised. Time flowed in different beats: unimportant days were swept away in words no longer than a few seconds, and moments of importance were granted paragraphs after paragraphs that took minutes to read. The scaling of time when cast into words is twisted out of linear proportion.
But with the present, time is time. It is not scaled. It is not contorted. It is not shortened to slim boring periods and lengthen to fit critical events. One day is one day. One week is one week. One month is one month. The present becomes alive. Yesterday nuns took to the streets. Last week monks did so. Suppose a revolution were to come in a month's time. This month will not be a day long. It will not be a week long. It will be a month long. A month is a month. It is not like pages of a history book. Even if nothing goes on during this one month, time plods on unrelentlessly, unceasingly, unhurriedly.
That is, perhaps, why events unfolding as I read in the newspapers feel more real than events of the past. When I read an article about John Lennon's death there is a detached feeling about the whole incident. It is not as if I have not felt the loss of a great singer, but this loss feels muted. It feels as if the concrete of history has solidified. But when Luciano Pavarotti died, the concrete of history may have been laid, but it is still wet. Maybe this is the reason why people often say that times are getting more and more difficult.
Where will the events in Burma head from here? Will it be like two decades ago, a repetition of history? Or will a fresh chapter of democracy enter Burma's life? There is no flipping of pages to the important future events this time.
Feels so real, doesn't it?
14 July 2007
The Government's Forced Prostitute
(This post evolved out of my comments on a post entitled Silence is not always golden on theonlinecitizen. The post criticises the lack of scrutiny by Singapore's mainstream media on the government.)
In recent weeks, a chain of non-replies from the government concerning many issues, the termination of Alfian Saat as a relief teacher for example, has infruriated many bloggers. Even moderate bloggers like Bernard Leong advocated for more openness in the government's reply and letters to the media. And as inevitable as the Second Law, the mainstream media gets a beating for not scrutinising the government over these matters and not pursuing the non-replies.
With regards to the non-replies and silences of various government departments regarding numerous affairs, I believe it is something on which the government has to seriously change its attitude. Such attitudes, more than just make people lose faith in the government and the civil service, can propel others to believe in alternative (and not necessarily true) explanations. This may be dangerous as it propagates falsehoods on the government and undermine the trust between the civil service and the people. And with no official explanations, they can hardly be blamed.
However, I do not agree with criticising the media for not playing the role of the watchdog like in so many democratic countries. I do not deny - in fact, I strongly support - the concept of the media being the watchdog of the government. Being a proper, massive organisation with professional journalists to probe and analyse various aspects on and reports of the government and its actions, hardly any other is better at fulfilling this role. However, at this point I'd like to emphasize the need, if thus is the case, for more media organisations to emerge. Left to its own, a media organisation will inevitably adopt a particular stand or point of view, so a greater number means a greater variety, leading to a more balanced airing of different perspective on a single issue. It is as pointless as the current situation if the media turns from the government's lap dog to a mad dog which bites at everything the government has.
However, I can hardly fault the media for taking up the role it took. The rules and regulations governing the media - the Newspaper and Printing Act - effectively gives the government the control of information. The media, in my opinion, can only take a small portion of the blame, if at all. After all, which media would like to see its readership fall? Which journalist would like to work under a heavily scrutinised and censored environment? Blaming the media is like shooting the hapless messenger. Of course, there are always those who are truly sincere in their flattering of the government, but we must caution ourselves against a hasty generalisation just as much as believing everything the media prints.
Of course, one could argue that the journalists ought to sacrifice themselves for their journalistic pride and freedom of expression. Yet, if these employees of the media can be kicked aside and replaced so easily, can we blame them for being concerned with their jobs and income? After all, if they are unwilling to write favourable or refrain from criticising the government, someone else would be willing to do the job, and the situation on the whole remains the same. Or, can we blame them for bowing down now, so that they can stay longer to push the boundaries of these regulations as far as they could go? Let's not forget that, these people are in the public, their faces known, unlikes the criticising mass of the netizens who are largely anonymous, and whose job is not directly affected by what he or she writes.
Instead of shifting the blame onto the media, I would instead focus my criticisms on these regulations that bind the muzzle of the watchdog. The media is not, as David Marshall once famously said, "poor prostitutes" of the government. If anything, the media is a forced prostitute of the government.
In recent weeks, a chain of non-replies from the government concerning many issues, the termination of Alfian Saat as a relief teacher for example, has infruriated many bloggers. Even moderate bloggers like Bernard Leong advocated for more openness in the government's reply and letters to the media. And as inevitable as the Second Law, the mainstream media gets a beating for not scrutinising the government over these matters and not pursuing the non-replies.
With regards to the non-replies and silences of various government departments regarding numerous affairs, I believe it is something on which the government has to seriously change its attitude. Such attitudes, more than just make people lose faith in the government and the civil service, can propel others to believe in alternative (and not necessarily true) explanations. This may be dangerous as it propagates falsehoods on the government and undermine the trust between the civil service and the people. And with no official explanations, they can hardly be blamed.
However, I do not agree with criticising the media for not playing the role of the watchdog like in so many democratic countries. I do not deny - in fact, I strongly support - the concept of the media being the watchdog of the government. Being a proper, massive organisation with professional journalists to probe and analyse various aspects on and reports of the government and its actions, hardly any other is better at fulfilling this role. However, at this point I'd like to emphasize the need, if thus is the case, for more media organisations to emerge. Left to its own, a media organisation will inevitably adopt a particular stand or point of view, so a greater number means a greater variety, leading to a more balanced airing of different perspective on a single issue. It is as pointless as the current situation if the media turns from the government's lap dog to a mad dog which bites at everything the government has.
However, I can hardly fault the media for taking up the role it took. The rules and regulations governing the media - the Newspaper and Printing Act - effectively gives the government the control of information. The media, in my opinion, can only take a small portion of the blame, if at all. After all, which media would like to see its readership fall? Which journalist would like to work under a heavily scrutinised and censored environment? Blaming the media is like shooting the hapless messenger. Of course, there are always those who are truly sincere in their flattering of the government, but we must caution ourselves against a hasty generalisation just as much as believing everything the media prints.
Of course, one could argue that the journalists ought to sacrifice themselves for their journalistic pride and freedom of expression. Yet, if these employees of the media can be kicked aside and replaced so easily, can we blame them for being concerned with their jobs and income? After all, if they are unwilling to write favourable or refrain from criticising the government, someone else would be willing to do the job, and the situation on the whole remains the same. Or, can we blame them for bowing down now, so that they can stay longer to push the boundaries of these regulations as far as they could go? Let's not forget that, these people are in the public, their faces known, unlikes the criticising mass of the netizens who are largely anonymous, and whose job is not directly affected by what he or she writes.
Instead of shifting the blame onto the media, I would instead focus my criticisms on these regulations that bind the muzzle of the watchdog. The media is not, as David Marshall once famously said, "poor prostitutes" of the government. If anything, the media is a forced prostitute of the government.
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