As an example the authors cite the 1994 "case of Dr Catherine Lim," whom they describe interestingly only as "a Singapore
academic." According to Lee Kuan Yew, Lim "wrote a series of critical commentaries on Lee's successor as prime minister,
Goh Chok Tong. Many believed she was unlikely to have penned the piece if Lee were still at the helm." The Senior Minister
himself has stated:

Supposing Catherine Lim was writing about me and not the prime minister . .. She would not dare, right? Because
my posture, my response has been such that nobody doubts that if you take me on, I will put on knuckle-dusters
and catch you in a cul de sac . . . Anybody who decides to take me on needs to put on knuckle dusters. If you
think you can hurt me more than I can hurt you, try. There is no other way you can govern a Chinese society.

"Not for him," his biographers conclude," the notion that all men yearned for democratic freedoms, prizing free speech and the
vote over other needs such as economic development. Asian societies, he contended, were different, having evolved separately
from the West over the centuries. [126]

This account of the Lim case in Lee Kuan Yew: The Man and His Ideas raises some interesting points, the first of which is
what, if anything, did the Singaporean government do to Catherine Lim? (One does know that she no longer either teaches
applied linguistics or has a newspaper column.) What effect, if any, has this 1994 incident had upon her subsequent fiction?
Furthermore, why do you suppose the authors of Lee's biography describe Lim, one of Singapore's best known and most
prolific writers, solely in terms of her former academic position? Finally, what role does this incident tell us about Singapore's
"culture of caution."

References

Han Fook Kwang, Warren Fernandez, Sumiko Tan. Lee Kuan Yew: The Man and His Ideas. Singapore: Times, 1998.
 
 

•   Can You Hear the 'Buzz'? Note to Hong Kong: we're        winning. by Catherine Lim


                     Hong Kongers, did you know we Singaporeans hate you? It is the hate
                 that the less-attractive, less-noticed sibling has for the brighter, more
                 glamorous one. Consider the world attention you attracted last year when
                 you were handed back to China. Singapore would have to, say, declare
                 herself the 51st U.S. state or be the chosen site of a Martian landing to
                 attract that kind of attention. We hate you for the vibrancy of your political
                 and economic life, for your unabashed celebration of capitalism, for your
                 acknowledged status as one of the world's most colorful, adventurous and
                 fun cities. We hate you most of all when people start making comparisons:
                 Singapore coldly efficient, Hong Kong pulsating with creative energy;
                 Singapore lacking a cultural identity, Hong Kong a hub of artistic and
                 cultural life.

                 Actually, we hated you. Note the past tense. Like any human resource in
                 a city-state that lacks natural wealth, our feelings have been carefully
                 mobilized and nurtured into an instrument of economic productivity. Hate
                 as an emotion is unproductive, but converted into aggressive
                 competitiveness it is useful. Indeed, it has been so successful that
                 Singaporeans are riding a wave of new confidence.

                 The ingrained Singaporean habit of courtesy will never allow jeering
                 triumphalism, but already Singaporeans are privately congratulating each
                 other and saying, "Have you read the latest?" The latest could be any one
                 of the upbeat reports regularly appearing in The Straits Times: the decision
                 by the oil giant Caltex to choose Singapore rather than Hong Kong as its
                 global headquarters, Singapore's steadiness in the turbulence of the Asian
                 crisis (compared with Hong Kong's floundering), the choice of Singapore
                 (not Hong Kong) as the World's Freest Economy by America's Heritage
                 Foundation.

                 Our new confidence allows Singaporeans to answer Hong Kongers'
                 criticisms with some biting ones of our own. So you think we are a rigid,
                 soulless society where government slaps people with ridiculous fines for
                 chewing gum? Well, compare our clean, green, safe city with your untidy
                 streets and high crime rate. So we are a meek, acquiescent society used to
                 government control? Well, we can do without the noise and unruliness of
                 your politics and your media, thank you very much. As for the "soul" and
                 "buzz" thing that everyone accuses Singapore of not having, even here we
`                are determined to outdo you. As one of our ministers so memorably put it,
                 "We are going to take fun seriously!" The government has certainly gone
                 all out to promote the arts; indeed, the present cultural scene is very lively,
                 with theater, music, dance, art and entertainment in full swing. And much
                 more is planned.

                 There is a heady optimism that Singapore is geared to overtake Hong
                 Kong as the Asian hub of economic and cultural life in the 21st century.
                 But there will be no crowing. Singapore's strategy has always been to go
                 about things quietly, purposefully. ("In humility, we are tops!" declared
                 another official.) Still, it is all right to share plenty of competitive glee
                 among ourselves. As the festive season approaches, a warning to our
                 archrival is circulating in the form of a carol, sung to the tune of "Santa
                 Claus Is Coming to Town":

                     You better watch out
                     You better not try
                     You better watch out
                     I'm telling you why
                     Singapore is winning hands down.

                     Lim is a Singaporean novelist.
                     Newsweek International, December 21, 1998
                             
 
 

• A debate begins on the benefits of criticis. by Andrea Hamilton / SINGAPORE

                                  ASIAWEEK
 

IN SINGAPORE, THE GOVERNMENT is used to being right. But crises like the current economic turmoil have a way of challenging even the most established order. Today, a debate is emerging within the city-state over the role of the public in its own governance. How involved should average people be in political affairs? What is the properrole of groups outside the government in assessing the island-state's appropriate direction? And, centrally, how tolerant should Singapore's rulers be in accepting criticism from average citizens? Surprisingly, it is the government itself that has sanctioned and encouraged the discussion.

At a conference last month sponsored by a government-affiliated think-tank, a variety of civic groups called on Singapore's elected officials to be more tolerant of dissent. The discussion was in many respects a watershed. Participants spoke of their fears that keep them from voicing opinions despite the government's calls for more grassroots political participation.

Ambassador-at-large Tommy Koh, a respected intermediary between the government and citizenry, pleaded for a "culture of tolerance" at a press briefing following the conference, which was closed to non-Singaporeans and to working journalists. (This story is based on interviews with participants.) Said Koh: "[There is] a real need for the
government not to visit those who express dissenting views with retribution. This creates an atmosphere of fear."

In the past, government officials have used legal action against their critics. Consider the case of opposition politician J.B. Jeyaretnam. In early 1997, on the eve of elections, Jeyaretnam referred obliquely to two police reports filed against Prime Minister Goh Chok Tong "and his people." Goh sued for defamation. Ten months later, a Singapore judge found in Goh's favor but ordered Jeyaretnam to pay only $13,000 in damages. The defendant acknowledged: "It could have been worse." Jeyaretnam knows. He has been on the losing end of several lawsuits brought by government officials since the 1970s. Also, his legal troubles are not over. He faces an appeal by Goh that the damages awarded by the judge were not high enough. Jeyaretnam has also appealed.

Critics at the conference also worried about a more subtle weapon to inhibit critics: ostracism from within the community. In Singapore, the fear of failure has long been a key factor driving overachievement. On one hand, such fears have produced a highly successful culture; Singapore's financial muscle far outstrips its size. But critics  ontend the same aversion to risk discourages individuals from taking chances.

For some, a telling example of how the government has used the threat of public humiliation to silence opposition is the case of Catherine Lim. A novelist, Lim wrote two columns in late 1994 in The Straits Times which were bluntly critical of Goh's governing style. The PM responded by publicly scolding Lim for undermining his authority. He went on to say that political commentary and criticism should be limited to those actively engaged in party politics and not undertaken by "writers on the fringe." Private citizens expected Lim would be hit with a libel suit, although that never materialized.
More than three-and-a-half years later, the incident is burned into the public psyche as a warning.

Given that, calls for greater openness can seem hollow. T. Sasitharan, the artistic director of the Substation performing arts center, said at the conference: "I fear the reality beneath the rhetoric of these proceedings is still about the government seeking full and final control. I fear it is about developing new modalities of subtle, clinical and calibrated control." For her part, Lim says she would not write today the articles that got her in trouble in 1994. "The only way we will know [the fear] is gone is when we wake up one day and no one is talking about it." When might that be? Lim cannot say: "We're doing a kind of dance where the government lets you come one step forward, then pushes you two steps back."

Nominated MP and longtime social activist Claire Chiang says the on-again, off-again nature of the government's push for more openness represents its own anxiety: "They fear the chaotic." Still others contend the complaint of critics that they are inhibited from speaking their minds is overstated. Says Simon Tay, another nominated MP: "Fear can be a crutch to do nothing. No government is going to say, 'come on, challenge us.'" He believes the government is sincere in wanting to loosen control. "But it is a question of how to let go. It's like a nervous parent watching their child take its first steps."

Brig.-Gen. George Yeo, minister for information and the arts, opened last month's conference by noting that the Singapore government must adapt to a changing world by opening up. Others have noted that the region's worsening economic situation demanded a more open and transparent system. And so, the debate over tolerating criticism is on. One thing is certain: It will not be a free-for-all.
 
 

Singapore's Leaders Must Woo a New Generation of Voters

SINGAPORE PRIME MINISTER GOH Chok Tong is nearing the end of his fifth year in office. Taking over from the country's founding leader,  Lee Kuan Yew, is nobody's idea of an easy job, especially when the elder statesman still sits on the cabinet as senior minister. Goh, 54, "has stepped into very big shoes," says ruling party MP Tan Cheng Bock. "Everyone associates Singapore with Lee Kuan Yew. You can't run away from that; it's a fact."

So, how is the somewhat self-effacing premier doing? He has kept the economy
growing at a steady pace. He has weathered several foreign policy                controversies, including the 1994 caning of an American teenager, the recent
hanging of a Filipino maid convicted of double murder, and a dispute with
Malaysia's southern state of Johore over Batu Putih island. And in the process
he has gained confidence and authority, even challenging his former boss on
certain issues.

"They're testing him because he's the new kid on the block," says Tan, an
ex-classmate and friend of the premier. "And he has measured up very well."
Goh himself told local reporters that "I have never dared assess my own
performance in public. I cannot claim credit alone - the entire cabinet has
worked well as a team." Most believe Goh will serve another five-year term after the next general elections, due before April 1997.

But when all that is said, Goh and the ruling People's Action Party face some
serious challenges. Chief among them is winning over a new generation that
has no experience of the country's early struggles after it split from Malaysia in
1965. These young voters take for granted living standards that their elders
never dreamed of. They chafe at being told that they might not be able to own a car. They complain about the high cost of property. And they prefer private
employment to government service, making it difficult for the ruling party to
recruit new talent.

They are the voters that Goh will have to appeal to in the coming election. The
People's Action Party has ruled Singapore since 1959, and is in no danger of
losing power. But its share of votes has been falling steadily, and party officials
wince at every percentage point drop. A general election could come as soon
as the September school holidays. It will be closely watched as a barometer of
Goh's stewardship.

The PAP had a strong bond with the "independence generation," says Deputy
Premier Brig.-Gen. (B.-G.) Lee Hsien Loong, 43, Lee Kuan Yew's elder son. But
"with a new generation, we have to establish a new bonding and commitment."

The basis of that alliance is a promise that living standards will improve . And
with growing regional competition, rising local costs and a per capita GDP
second only to Japan's, it looks as if Singapore has little room left to boom.
"We are doing well," B.-G. Lee says, "but not so well that we can fly on
 auto-pilot."

 

      The Good Life

                   Percentage of population that own their own home 91%(in 1965:
                    22%)
                   Literacy rate, 1994 91% (in 1965: 64%)
                   Unemployment rate, 1994 2.6% (in 1965: 9%)
                   Secondary school enrollment, 1994 81% (in 1965: 39%)
                   Doctors per 10,000 people, 1994 15 (in 1965: 5)
                   Rank among 173 nations on the U.N.'s Human Development
                     index 43>(Hong Kong: 24)
 

  RECRUITING YOUNG PILOTS, HOWEVER, is getting more difficult.
The party has often had to rely on the old guard. On June 28, Goh
announced that the PAP's 55-year-old chairman, Tony Tan, would become a
deputy premier and defense minister. Tan was Lee Kuan Yew's first choice to
be his successor. But the onetime education chief declined and resigned to run
the Overseas Chinese Banking Corp. in 1991.

   Tan's return triggered some speculation about the health of B.-G. Lee, who has supervised both defense and trade & industry ministries. In 1992, he was
diagnosed with lymphoma, but was pronounced cured after two years of
treatment. "This is still the case," says the prime minister's press secretary. In
June, B.-G. Lee told reporters that when he fell ill, he advised Goh to bring in
Tony Tan to strengthen the cabinet. The banker has finally accepted the PM's
offer.

    The move still came as a surprise, especially since after a by-election in 1992, Goh contradicted Lee Kuan Yew's assertion that Tan would join the cabinet.  That Goh has accepted a former rival into the fold is a sign that "he'll go to any extent to make sure the best people come join him," says MP Tan Cheng Bock. It may also be a sign that he had very few people to choose from.

     As Tan himself says, his appointment indicates the PAP's painful shortage of cabinet candidates. Despite giving ministers hefty salary increases last year,
few young leaders are lining up to join the administration. B.-G. Lee says the
government tries to bring in at least three prospective officials every five years.
But Tan's appointment was the first since July 1993.

     Five in the 15-member cabinet now handle two or more portfolios. Before Tan took office on Aug. 1, MP Lee Boon Yang, 48, was defense minister and labor chief in addition to his duties as government whip. Some ministers move from post to post. Trade Minister Yeo Cheow Tong, 48, was once top health official as well as chief of community development, while Law Minister S. Jayakumar, 55, gave up the home affairs portfolio to head the foreign office.

     The government offers choice state scholarships to attract people to civil or
army service. But B.-G. Lee admits: "There are more opportunities in the private
sector and the demands are less onerous." There is also the issue of loss of
privacy. Throughout his 31 years as prime minister, Lee Kuan Yew, now 71,
lived by a stringent code of conduct, and expected his ministers to do the
same. Many may feel that Lee's high standards are too difficult to live up to.

     Last month Goh stressed the need for a new generation of leaders emerging in the next five years. After that, he warned, it would be too late for young party stalwarts to study under veterans like Senior Minister Lee, Tony Tan and
Finance Minister Richard Hu Tsu Tau, 68. "Who are they going to learn from?"
he asked. "How do we pass on our experience?"

      Yet even as young Singaporeans' interest in politics dwindles, their
expectations of what leaders should deliver remain high. "People who have
arrived always aspire to cars and private housing," says Finance Minister Hu.
But recent graduates, who earn between $17,000 and $34,000 annually, have
been hit hardest by the rising cost of living. The government's recent inflation
report shows that the top 20% income group faced price increases of 6.4% last
year, compared to 2.5% for middle-income earners and 2.4% for low-income
ones.
 
      High costs are biting not only into family budgets. The government fears its
 greatest achievement - rapid economic progress - could also suffer. The GDP
 growth rate will likely dip from 10% last year to 8% this year. Though the
 slowdown is far from alarming, some worry that future generations might not
 have life as good as their forebears. "Singapore is facing the law of diminishing
 returns because of its size," says Toh Chin Chye, founding PAP member and
 former deputy premier. He likens the country to a warehouse that has reached
 capacity.

      In order to keep advancing, says Hu, "we have to move into value-added
manufacturing and services." He points to the development of Singapore's
"external wing," its investments in nearby countries. The republic is also
attempting, with some success, to lure the finance and fund management
industry away from Hong Kong.

      Few doubt the ruling party's ability to deal with these new economic challenges
as competently as it has done before. "Any leader would be happy to have
Goh's problems," says a Singapore-based diplomat. Under the PAP, real
economic growth has averaged 8.9% annually for the past 30 years. Foreign
reserves now stand at over $56 billion. Singapore is now the world's second
busiest port, one of Asia's top three financial centers and a major electronics
manufacturer.

      But material success has brought a different challenge: increasing demands for a society more open to discussion and debate. Recent spats with the
international press have highlighted the government's sensitivity to what it sees
as irresponsible or libelous criticism. Last year, local novelist Catherine Lim
argued in The Straits Times newspaper that despite Goh's promise of a gentler
Singapore, his rule offered little to distinguish itself from the tough,
father-knows-best stance of the previous government.

     In response, Lim was told to enter the political arena if she wanted to debate public policy. Such treatment, some say, leaves many unsure of how far they can go in publicly assessing the government's actions. "It is unclear what the boundaries are," says nominated MP Kanwaljit Soin. "People would rather err  on the side of prudence - which is what the government would like because the whole country operates on the basis of non-conflict."

      The opposition is too small to "make headway in making the government
accountable," says Chee Soon Juan, 32, secretary-general of the Singapore
Democratic Party. Only four out of 81 MPs do not belong to the ruling party.
But Soin thinks political participation ought to extend beyond Parliament. "It is time to look and see how we can develop a civil society," she says, "where
people are politically aware and want some sort of input in policy-making."

      Voters do make their voice heard. The PAP won 76% of the ballot in 1980. That percentage dropped to 63% in 1984. In 1991, after Goh became premier, the party won 61%. Although the PM was one of the top vote-getters, the elections also saw a PAP minister of state ousted and three more opposition MPs elected.

      Most do not feel that Goh is solely responsible for the erosion. Says a politica lobserver: "B.-G. Lee, Health and Information Minister Brig.-Gen. George Yeo Yong Boon and Home Affairs Minister Wong Kan Seng were all major architects of PAP election strategy and can't totally escape responsibility."

       B.-G. Lee calls the 1980 result an "exceptional circumstance" and says the
party's previous margin of victory was unsustainable. "I don't think it shows
people want a different government," says Lee. "I think they want an opposition, and to show that while they support the government, it doesn't have complete  carte blanche."

        For just that reason, the opposition is looking forward to testing the popular will. "We're trying very hard to offer ourselves as an alternative party," says the SDP's Chee. He has met with the Workers' Party, the Singapore MalayNational Organization and the National Solidarity Party. All have tacitly agreed not to split the opposition vote. That way, he says, "we hope to see at least 10 seats" go to the opposition.

         Chee is probably optimistic. But Workers' Party secretary-general Joshua
Jeyaretnam says "opposition votes will go up because the cost of living has
gone up." MP Soin views the drop in ruling party votes as a sign that
democracy is working. "If the percentage of votes didn't fall, the party would get too complacent," she says. "It's a good idea to remind the party that there is an electorate out there."

        That is something Goh has certainly not forgotten. The PM has devoted much effort to strengthening people's investment in the system. Last month, he
announced a payment of some $178.6 million to 300,000 citizens over the age
of 50. Most of the funds will end up in their state medical insurance plans, but
he portrayed the package as a reward for senior citizens' contribution toward
nation-building. In October, all Singaporeans over 21 will receive $140 in their
state pension plan accounts. That is in addition to the $140 the government
paid working-age citizens last year to help them buy shares in privatized or
soon-to-be privatized state firms.

        Such government largesse may win points for now. But Goh and his colleagues may find that giving the next generation a stake in the system will not be enough, unless the stakes continue to get larger. That could be the
government's greatest challenge yet.
 

             DISSENT TESTING LIMITS
Asia's political gadflies are prodding governments to open up
                          By Susan Berfield
 

  CHINA'S GOVERNMENT IS TOUGH on critics. Those who complain publicly about crime, the credit crunch, even corruption are on safe ground. But those who openly challenge the authorities on political issues get a rough ride. Many are jailed, or, like Liu Gang, are in exile. Liu served a six-year prison term for his leading role in the 1989 pro-democracy protests, and claims he had been closely watched by police ever since his release last year. Fearing he would be detained again, the 34-year-old chose to leave. He arrived in the United States on May 1.

  While Beijing's tolerance of dissent is low, elsewhere in Asia it is slowly --though unevenly -- rising as members of a well-educated and well-off middleclass begin calling for governments to become more open and accountable. The tone of the discussion shifts with the terrain, but in most places those willing to speak out are more bold, and some more aggressive, than their predecessors were just five years ago.

  What is called provocative in Kuala Lumpur is likely to be acceptable in Bangkok -- and even expected in Manila. President Fidel Ramos's sister Leticia Shahani says that "part of [the president's] daily schedule is to receivecriticism." One of his chief tormentors is Teodoro "Teddyboy" Locsin, Jr. The 47-year-old publisher, editor-in-chief, and columnist of Manila's Today newspaper is sarcastic, biting, and merciless. In other words, he is the
quintessential Filipino gadfly. He has called Ramos's Lakas-NUCD "a party of thieves," the Philippine National Police "the greatest criminal organization in thecountry," and the judiciary "corrupt, stupid, and pliant."

   Elsewhere in the region, though, limits, however ill-defined, still exist. And where there are limits, there will be individuals to test them.

   Irene Fernandez, a social activist in Malaysia, and Chirmsak Pinthong, a TV talk show host in Bangkok, have recently paid the price for going too far.

   Fernandez, 49, heads Tenaganita (Women's Force), a non-governmental        organization that campaigns for the rights of oppressed groups. She was arrested in March for allegedly providing false information in a report on migrant worker abuse. Issued last July, the report detailed the appalling conditions and deaths at government camps for detained foreign workers. It contained the now-famous quote: "We have slavery in our midst."

  The government has since improved the treatment of such workers. Fernandez,
though, still faces trial. If convicted, she could face three years in jail and a fine
of $8,000. Her case will be heard next month. Fernandez isn't counting on a reprieve. "Those in power are able to make use of the media to create a negative image of people like me," she says. "They like to suggest we are troublemakers, anti-government, anti-development, foreign influenced. I would deny all that. All we are is pro-people."

   Chirmsak, 45, describes himself as a messenger, with a knowing look about what happens to those who bear bad news. Just before last July's parliamentary election that brought Prime Minister Banharn Silapa-archa to power, the jovial university professor invited Banharn onto his show "Looking from Different Perspectives." Chirmsak grilled Banharn about who he might appoint to his cabinet if he became premier. Banharn wasn't very forthcoming, and Chirmsak  kept pressing. The prime minister apparently has not forgotten the embarrassment.

   Soon after, one of Chirmsak's TV shows was suspended. Then in February, the         network axed "Perspectives," which had survived five governments. His radio programs have also been canceled. "Some quote, power, unquote, stopped them," says Chirmsak. The longtime activist may be less prominent now, but the Banharn government remains a target for criticism. "The press cannot topple a government," says Chirmsak. "It can only reflect whether people have lost faith in the government."

   The notion that the press should work in concert with the government is receding, but so slowly -- and so unpredictably in some countries -- that journalists can quickly find themselves in trouble. That is what happened to Indonesian TV personality Wimar Witular. His weekly show "Perspektif" was witty, insightful, the talk of Jakarta -- until the station pulled the plug last September. The cancellation came after Witular interviewed Judge Benjamin Mangkudilaga, who had ruled that the government's 1994 banning of the popular
newsmagazine Tempo was illegal.

   Still, the 50-year-old management consultant and former academic is now the                first syndicated columnist in the country; 13 newspapers feature his writing. The             editors of Tempo, meanwhile, have headed to cyberspace. They launched an               electronic edition of the magazine in March. So far the government is keeping
 its distance.

   In Hong Kong, political commentators must navigate the increasingly rough
transition from British colonial rule to mainland sovereignty. As CEO of a             publishing group that prints the Chinese-language editions of Playboy and                 Forbes, the mild-mannered Albert Cheng Jinghan, 49, could have watched the
transfer of power from the comfort of his executive suite. The former student
activist would have, too, except that the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989
made him realize that "this society will not be a healthy one without any              opposition voices."

    So he and Raymond Wong, now publisher of Mad Dog Daily, began hosting the
weekly TV show "Talk of the Town." More than once they shouted at the               government officials and pro-Beijing figures they invited on air. Despite high
ratings, station bosses canceled the show. He hasn't been silenced, though.                  Today his three-hour morning radio show of commentary and phone-in                   conversation, "Teacup in a Storm," is among the territory's most popular. "I
want to voice the anger of people here," he says.

    In Singapore, author Catherine Lim stirred up debate in 1994 by writing two
  articles for The Straits Times newspaper that among other things blamed the
  government for "the growing alienation of the people." In his rebuttal, Prime
  Minister Goh Chok Tong said his authority should not be challenged by "writers
  on the fringe." Lim has not published any other political articles in local papers
  since. "I wish I were able to persuade The Straits Times to publish more
  political commentaries from me," she told Asiaweek. "I will just keep trying."

     Singaporean Gopal Baratham has been luckier. After a 25-year career as a
  neurosurgeon at a government hospital, Baratham published his first novel in
  1991. A Candle or the Sun was described as an unabashed critique of
  Singapore's political climate. "It's not that I want to irritate, but I just speak my
  mind," he says. "You should criticize the faults if you care for the society." So
  far the 60-year-old doctor has done so with immunity. "Some people say I'm the
  government's token liberal. What can I say?" he shrugs.

      Today's critics are pushing the boundaries of dissent, and sometimes being
  pushed back. "The issue of openness will be worked out in a
  three-steps-forward, two-steps-back dance with the government, exasperating
  some while giving hope to others," Lim told a forum of ASEAN young leaders in
  Singapore last October. Perhaps the next generation of government gadflies will
  not have it so hard.

                  -- Reporting from Bangkok, Hong Kong, Jakarta, Kuala Lumpur, Manila and
                  Singapore
 
 

  IN PRAISE OF DEMOSTHENES

       There is a historical precedent to the controversy started by Dr. Catherine Lim's article "One
Government, two styles". Demosthenes (BC 384-322). the speechwriter and orator from Athens,
was an avid commentator of political affairs. When he foresaw the impending invasion of the              Macedonians, he tried to unite the city-states by his eloquent speeches and writings. But his
cries were too late, all the Greek cities soon fell under the mighty Macedonian Empire. When
 Athens was captured and he saw no chance of escape, Demosthenes took poison rather than
faced captivity. A remarkable and commendable citizen. unlike many of us who perfect our golf
swings at lift lobbies and take up karaoke pronunciation classes, Dr. Lim should be commended
for taking an interest in local politics.

        However, the similarity ends here. As a story writer, she must be aware of the might of the pen
 and the power it wields. To recommend a better policy is one thing, to speculate that the
 government suffers from a split personality is another. An open, consultative style means allowing
 feedback and differing (but better) views to enhance policies, it does not mean having the right to
 question whether a prime minister is in control. To have this right, you must stand on a different
 platform. Suppose you are in a battle field. Your sergeant radioed to you that the               commander-in-chief suffers from split personality; he is unsure whether to capture the objectives
at all cost or lose the strategic locations to avoid casualties. Would you fight as effectively as
before? Would you lay down your life knowing that your commander is torn between two styles?

         On the other hand, if the sergeant belongs to the opposing force, then he has the right to
 convince you that your leader is weak. He can drop leaflets questioning your leader's
 decisiveness. Should he succeed, he will have one enemy less. Should he fail, he runs the risk of
  being killed. That is responsibility. Hence, if Dr. Lim's view is incorrect, the government has to
  reply firmly and strongly as much as the sergeant must be corrected. There is no other way.

         Thankfully, we are not facing an invasion here. No one has to take poison nor drop leaflets.
Demosthenes understood responsibility when the Macedonian general Antipater threatened to lay
 siege to Athens unless the city surrendered Demosthenes to him. As a city-state ourselves, we
 demand no less- our Demosthenes must understand responsibility of speech instead of just
 freedom of speech.