Many Singaporeans, including those associated with The Online Citizen, have lionised Chiam See Tong. But I think a longer perspective would yield a more mixed assessment.

For the third time, he stands at the centre of an internal party crisis. This latest one has six members resigning en masse from the SPP, including the former first and second assistant secretaries-general Wilfred Leung and Benjamin Pwee respectively. Today newspaper said “both [were] once widely tipped to succeed Mr Chiam”. The rest were organising secretary Ting Sze Jiang, head of the Malay-Muslim Bureau Mohamad Hamim Aliyas, head of the Women’s Wing Juliana Juwahir and head of the SME Businessmen Bureau David Tan.

In a statement e-mailed to the media, the six resigning members said: “We are all very sad and disheartened that the current CEC’s continued attempt to build team alignment and a consultative collective team leadership culture to move the Party forward and into a smooth leadership transition have failed, and deep long-term relationships (between) key CEC members have also quickly unravelled and broken down.

“We have all worked hard to try and create a new consultative collective team leadership for SPP moving forward, but failed. We are deeply sorry.”

Today understands that some of the differences in opinion resulted in friction with Non-Constituency Member of Parliament Lina Chiam, who ran and lost in the single-seat ward of Potong Pasir, formerly her husband’s stronghold.

– Today, 29 Jan 2012, Six make bitter break from Singapore People’s Party, by Lin Yanqin

One can read from this statement much about what caused their departure. The allusion to failing to build a “consultative collective team leadership” suggests that the Chiams were not prepared to cede iron-fisted control.

This is almost a replay of the break-up of the Singapore Democratic Alliance (SDA) in 2010. The SDA then comprised the SPP, the Singapore Justice Party and the the Singapore Malay National Organisation (PKMS). But Chiam’s main antagonist was none other than SPP’s own Desmond Lim, who had for years been his right-hand man helping him run the Potong Pasir Town Council when Chiam was the member of parliament for the constituency. Desmond had a parallel job as secretary-general of the SDA, and over time, he began to complain bitterly that Chiam would not respect the confederal nature of the SDA, wanting to reserve all power to himself. In that crisis, Desmond had the support of SJP and PKMS.

Eventually, Chiam pulled the SPP out of the SDA.

In the early 1990s, Chiam was closely identified with the Singapore Democratic Party (SDP), which he had founded. But after an internal crisis in 1993, he left when he found that he had lost the confidence of his peers. The party’s other central executive committee (CEC) members had voted unanimously against him over a key motion. Chee Soon Juan has detailed the events in a series of articles, backed by references to press reports of the period (see The truth about Chiam See Tong’s departure Part 1 and Part 2). One report, of court testimony when Chiam sued the SDP, had this gem:

Mr Kwan Yue Keng, another CEC member had, in 1987 spoken up against “one-man shows” referring to Mr Chiam.

Mr Chiam replied: “Someone must lead. Who initiates? The leader.” He claimed credit for the winning “by-election effect” strategy.

Mr Ling retorted that it was actually the idea of Mr Mohammed Jufrie Mahmood (then) of the Workers’ Party.

Mr Chiam: “Who implemented it?”

Mr Ling: “The CEC.”

Mr Chiam: “Collective leadership is nonsense.”

Mr Ling: “You’re talking of dictatorship.”

–  Straits Times, 4 Dec 1993, SDP split: Chiam against the rest

* * * * *

Coming back to the current crisis at the SPP, with the departure of six key members, the party congress ended with the election of eight previous central executive committee members into the new CEC. The closed-door congress was held on 29 Jan, with reporters noting that 25 – 30 members attended. Today newspaper quoted the prepared statement that Lina Chiam read to the media after the meeting:

Mrs Chiam said: “The OPC (Ordinary Party Conference) has proceeded to re-elect the remaining members of the CEC. The election of the office bearers will take place after the first CEC meeting. The OPC fully supports the leadership of the CEC.”

Several sources confirmed that at least eight people have been elected to the new CEC.

Besides Mrs Chiam, they include Mr Chiam; previous chairman Sin Kek Tong, and former CEC members Jason Leong, Ricky Toh, Yen Kim Khooi, Yong Seng Fatt and Han Jook Kuang.

– Today, 30 Jan 2012, SPP exodus triggered by an email: Sources, by Neo Chai Chin

The Straits Times calculated that the average age of this group was 58, and wrote:

Without a generation of young leaders in sight, party members and observers are now raising questions over the succession plans of its veteran secretary-general Chiam See Tong, 76, and the future of the 17-year-old party.

– Straits Times, 30 Jan 2012, No fresh blood in SPP leadership, by Tessa Wong and Andrea Ong

Like comic opera, the new CEC showed signs of fracture almost immediately. Sin Kek Tong, whose name was among those re-elected into the new CEC, was reported by the Straits Times as refusing to be included.

A stinging indictment of the turn of events came from party co-founder Mr Sin, who announced his retirement from party leadership last year. He said he would reject any new appointment.

‘I shall decline their offer for age and health reasons, and because I believe there should have been renewal of party leadership,’ said the 65-year-old, who was not present at yesterday’s meeting.

‘The Chiams should have made way for the new blood. The party is now facing a crisis with a lack of new leaders and a lack of direction.’

– ibid.

Benjamin Pwee then re-entered the fray, pointing out that electing Sin Kek Tong without him first agreeing to be nominated would cast the validity of the entire election in doubt. (Straits Times, 31 Jan 2012, Dispute over validity of SPP election, by Tessa Wong). S Kunalen, a former lawyer, who was at the party conference, then revealed that  the new CEC was elected “en bloc” with all names on a single slate. The party’s constitution as published on its website does not say anything that would disallow that, but nonetheless it seems strange that that party would include someone who has no interest in being elected. I guess we will hear more in due course.

Actually, whether Sin was among the eight elected is not even clear. The Straits Times reported that he was.

The names of the remaining CEC members, including Mr Sin’s, were then read out at one go, and the cadres voted them all into the new CEC.

Said Mr Kunalen: ‘The proper rules were followed, and Sunday’s meeting was properly conducted.’

Besides Mr Sin, at least seven other CEC members were re-elected, including Mr Chiam See Tong and his wife Lina.

– Straits Times, 31 Jan 2012, Dispute over validity of SPP election, by Tessa Wong

But Today newspaper reported differently.

SPP member S Kunalan, however, said the CEC election was “validly carried out”.

He clarified that Mr Sin and Mr Jimmy Lee – who was also part of Mr Chiam’s Bishan-Toa Payoh GRC team last May – were not re-elected into the CEC.

“However, they may be co-opted into the CEC at a later date,” he said.

– Today, 31 Jan 2012, New twist to SPP saga: Pwee claims re-election ‘potentially null and void’ , by Lin Yanqin

This is going to keep SPP in the news for all the wrong reasons.

* * * * *

You might have noticed that the Straits Times reached me for a comment for Monday’s story (30 Jan 2012). Indeed, I told the reporter that such a crisis within any party does not augur well.

Our political system is one of cabinet government. To succeed, a party must be able to find enough leaders who can work together. This means an essential quality of a party leader is that of being able to work collegially with others despite differences of opinion from time to time. And since ambition is never far away in politics, a party leader must be able to suffer other egos as big as his own.

A good leader is one who never forgets that the mission is far more important than himself. It is the shared mission that attracts people and sustains their loyalty. Personality politics cannot take a party very far. Instead, it is more advisable to tend to core ideas and defining principles for the sake of a party’s future.

Unsurprisingly too, a large number those comments were of the nature of anti-gay remarks (expletives, actually). Implicit behind some of those remarks was the assumption that the children’s book was published by some homosexual man in the hope of “softening” up targets — prepubescent boys.

See? This is what gay men get up to, the comments sort-of said. What more proof does one need of the danger of “gayism”?

It takes barely one minute and a few taps on a computer keyboard to discover that the truth behind that single image is the complete opposite, though the sad thing is that 99% of those so quick to comment on Facebook never bothered to search.

The illustration in question came from a book — indeed, a children’s book — titled Alfie’s Home, published in 1993 by Richard A Cohen and Elizabeth Sherman. In the book, the narrator is the boy himself, probably so that young readers can better identify with the story.

Here are some other pages from the book. By the end of it, it should be as clear as day what message the authors were trying to spread.

Everybody thinks we’re really happy, but I am not.

My dad is always working and when he’s at home, he screams a lot. That really hurts me.

Mom cries sometimes because she doesn’t know what to do. Then she holds me, telling me about her unhappiness and problems. It makes me feel very uncomfortable and strange.

I really wish my dad would spend time with me instead of screaming and yelling.

Uncle Pete comes over sometimes. He lives with us every now and then. He is really kind to me –holding me, listening to me, and making me feel loved.

One night, when he was holding me, he started touching my private parts. Over time, he taught me to touch and play with his. It felt very strange, scary and a little good too. He told me it was OK, that this means he really loves me. This went on for several months. He told me, “This is our special secret.”

Mom and Dad would fight. I thought they didn’t love me. Maybe they fought because of me?

When I became a teenager, I started feeling really different from the other guys. Some of them called me names like “Sissy,” “Faggot,” “Queer,” “Homo.” I didn’t know what they meant.

After awhile [sic], I went to a counselor for help and advice. I told him my story and that I thought I was gay.

He said I wasn’t gay. I just missed my Dad’s love and was taught wrong things by my uncle.

He said it was very bad what my uncle did to me. He should never have touched my private parts, or have me play with his.  The counselor said it wasn’t my fault, that my uncle took advantage of my need for Dad’s love.

He explained that because I didn’t experience affection with my father, that now I was looking for closeness with other boys, to fill the need for my Dad’s love.

I felt so relieved. He said he would talk to my parents and help them understand. He said he would also contact Uncle Pete and made sure he got help.

The counselor explained to my Mom and Dad about my struggle and need for Dad’s love. He told them of my confusion about being gay. He told Dad that I needed his TIME, TOUCH and TALK.

Mom and Dad went to a counselor who helped them love each other more. They even stopped fighting. . .  well, at least most of the time!

My counselor and I met with Uncle Pete. I told him how much he hurt me. He cried and asked me to forgive him.

That helped me a lot.

Now, I realize that I’m not gay.

Spending time with my Dad really healed my heart. All I needed was his time, touch and talk.

Finally, I am happy at home.

* * * * *

The whole premise of the story should now be crystal clear, and quite different from the initial impression. It is a piece of propaganda — not by a pro-gay lobby, but from anti-gay fanatics, aiming to plant the idea that gay men are predators, and boys turn homosexual because their fathers were absent from their lives. This theory of absent father and too-close mother as a “cause” of homosexuality has long been shown to be bunkum. A century of research has found nothing to support such nonsense. Take a simple straw poll: Lots of straight men report growing up with distant fathers. Lots of gay men report growing up in close-knit and attentive families.

However, according to Wikipedia, it is a theory that author Richard Cohen has hawked for years. He is notorious for promoting his “conversion” therapies in which he claims he can turn gay people straight. Such false therapies have been condemned by psychology professionals.

Nonetheless, Alfie’s Home is a seductive story. Lots of gay teenagers are unhappy — not because they are gay, but because they are socially ostracised. But unless they think through it, they seldom make the distinction. All they know is that they are unhappy, and when a simplistic story like Cohen’s comes along, “explaining” their unhappiness, they seize on it. Few take the trouble to see that many families have parents fighting, or a father who is stressed out work-wise and thus seldom at home. This may not be healthy, but it is so common that it is almost normal. To try to use this situation as a starting explanation for homosexuality in sons is laughable.

It is also seductive to any other reader desperately trying to deny homosexuality. The message is: If your boy thinks he is gay, he is actually “confused”, and a simple visit to a therapist will fix it.

The “hero” of the story, coming to “save” the boy and the family was the counselor. Guess what? In 2002, Richard Cohen, the author, “was permanently expelled from the American Counseling Association, after it accused him of six violations of its ethics code, which bars members from actions which ‘seek to meet their personal needs at the expense of clients, those that exploit the trust and dependency of clients, and for soliciting testimonials or promoting products in a deceptive manner’ ” — according to Wikipedia.

What do you think “seeking to meet their personal needs at the expense of clients” means?

One more thing: The scene in which the boys’ peers call him names is disturbing because, absent a clear stand against it, the book effectively endorses name-calling.

* * * * *

This kind of book is hate speech.

Imagine an analogy. If we went around suggesting that

• Muslims are predators, e.g. out to recruit young boys to be terrorists the same way as Uncle Pete is depicted as taking advantage of Alfie,
• that there is an irreconciliable opposition between being Muslim and having happy, healthy families,
• and that if anyone were “confused”, a visit to the counselor (or some other non-Muslim religious leader) would do the trick

would be outrageous.

If it is wrong to make such slanderous claims about Islam and Muslims, it is wrong to make such claims about gay people.

* * * * *

Fortunately, other things circulate on Facebook as well. This one for instance:

Let me give you two examples from the parliamentary sitting of 9 January 2012.

Janil Puthucheary (PAP) posed a question about anti-tobacco efforts.

Dr Janil Puthucheary asked the Minister for Health (a) what is the total economic burden including lost productivity due to smoking, passive tobacco exposure and tobacco-related diseases; (b) how much is currently spent on educational and preventive measures for smoking; (c) how does this compare to the current expenditure on educational or preventive measures for other common diseases; and (d) whether there are plans to increase the expenditure on tobacco control.

The reply by Gan Kim Yong contains quite a lot of fluff. Perhaps he needed to bury within loads of positive statements (“stepped up our efforts”, “enhance its targeted, multi-pronged strategies”) the unflattering fact that smoking prevalence has been rising, from 12.6% in 2004 to 14.3 % in 2010.

Mr Gan Kim Yong: The annual social cost of smoking in Singapore was estimated to be between $600 million and $800 million in a 2002 study by the National University of Singapore. This includes the opportunity cost of tobacco-related work absenteeism as well as healthcare expenditure for tobacco-associated diseases.

Mr Yee Jenn Jong asked the Minister for Education for the last 10 years what was (i) the annual number of foreigners who were granted scholarships by the Ministry to study in our schools and universities and the annual cost of these scholarships; (ii) the percentage of foreign scholars who commenced studies in secondary schools and proceeded on to local universities; (iii) the percentage of foreign scholars in local universities who had graduated with Second Class Upper Honours or better; and (iv) the percentage of foreign scholars who completed their contractual bond period to work in Singapore after their graduation.

The Education Minister gave a reply that was more to the point than Health Minister Gan Kim Yong above.

Mr Heng Swee Keat: For students from ASEAN countries, MOE offers scholarships to promote mutual understanding and goodwill in the region. In the past few years, MOE awarded around 150 scholarships annually to students from the ASEAN countries at the pre-tertiary level and another 170 at the undergraduate level. The scholarships cover school fees and accommodation, and the annual cost is about $14,000 for each pre-tertiary scholarship and between $18,000 to $25,000 for each undergraduate scholarship. Around 65% of pre-tertiary international scholars progress on to our Autonomous Universities.

In addition, our schools, universities and the corporate sector also offer a range of scholarships to quality international students to create a diverse student body that encourages the learning of important cross-cultural skills, as well as to meet the manpower needs of our economy. With Singapore’s decreasing fertility rates, it is important that even as we seek to better develop our talent pool, we augment this with working professionals and students from abroad. This helps us to maintain our economic competitiveness and ultimately raise the standard of living of our people.

Of all the international students who graduated from our Autonomous Universities in 2011, around 45% did so with a Second Upper class of Honours or better.

Upon graduation, scholars are obliged to work in Singapore or Singapore companies for up to six years. More than eight in 10 scholars have been working in Singapore and are contributing to our economy. As for those who did not start work immediately, many had deferred their bonds to pursue postgraduate studies.

As Yee’s question and Heng’s answer showed, follow-up questions are often called for. Without them, it can be hard to grasp the significance of the answer given.

For example, it would have struck you that the Education Ministry’s 170 undergraduate scholarships annually to Asean scholars do not account for the thousands of foreign students in the National University of Singapore alone. That university has an undergraduate enrolment of about 27,000, with another 10,000 graduate students. I believe it was previously made public that about 20 percent are foreign students (can anyone locate some source statistics on this?), so where did the rest come from? Perhaps they are full-paying students, but since Heng added that the universities and corporate sector also give out scholarships, it would seem necessary to get a handle on these numbers if we are to make any sense of the situation.

I will hasten to add however that I fully support the idea that a significant minority of students in our universities should be foreigners, adding as it does an important dimension to education. This must necessarily include scholarships, which also help to create international goodwill for Singapore. Please do not assume from my discussion of this topic that I am anti-foreigner.

As for the other statistics Heng gave, we really can’t assess their significance unless there is comparable data for the student body as a whole, or at least comparable data for Singaporean scholarship holders.

Yee could have asked supplementary questions on the spot, but it would not be fair to Heng, as additional data need a bit of time to unearth them. Yee’s option would therefore be to ask his follow-up questions at another session of parliament. But parliamentary procedures impose limits on how many questions a member can ask, and he will obviously have to prioritise — which is to say, he may not have an opportunity to revisit this issue for a while.

* * * * *

By why should only members of parliament get a chance to ask such questions? If we want informed voters, which surely the People’s Action Party cannot disagree with, there has to be ways for the public to obtain such information. It’s time for a Freedom of Information Act.

“MHA had planned to make these announcements on 25 January 2012, but as news of the investigations had already appeared, MHA decided to advance the media release by one day,” said the statement issued by the Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) on Friday, 27 January 2012, desperately denying that its hand was forced by Chinese-language newspaper Lianhe Wanbao.

The news in question was the arrests of two top civil servants by the Corrupt Practices Investigation Bureau (CPIB). While details are still scant, Singapore Civil Defence Force chief Peter Lim Sin Pang and Central Narcotics Bureau chief Ng Boon Gay had been placed under arrest several weeks before. The MHA statement said:

CPIB, which is part of the Prime Minister’s Office, commenced interviewing one of the officers [Ng] on 19 December 2011 and the other [Lim] on 4 January 2012 with regard to investigations against them.

In CPIB investigations, it is normal procedure for the person to be placed under arrest if CPIB assesses that there is some basis for suspecting that the person may have committed an offence.  The person can then be released on bail and is required to return for further investigations as needed.

Both officers were placed on leave when the investigations began.  At that point in time, it was premature to make any announcement as CPIB investigations had just started and the outcome was not known.  Furthermore, a public announcement at that point could compromise CPIB investigations.

The ministry was responding to an uproar over the delay in making the arrests public. Many in social media have suggested that the government deliberately suppressed news of these investigations while the debate on ministerial salaries took place in Parliament. One of the justifications for Singapore’s extremely high political salaries, and likewise, salaries for top public servants, is that handsome pay removes the temptation to be corrupt. To have two senior officers — both handpicked to be government scholars in their youth as well — under a cloud of suspicion would have undercut this argument.

Former editor of The New Paper and Today, P N Balji, called the scoop by Wanbao “a memorable and bold moment in Singapore journalism.” Writing for Yahoo, he creditted “a dogged reporter’s patience and persistence combined with a brave editor’s decision to throw caution to the wind” for bringing back “memories of the good old days of old-fashioned reporting” that had long disappeared from Singapore’s traditional media scene.

Indeed, a cursory look at the “standard operating procedure” (SOP) laid down by the powers on high for our traditional media could well explain MHA’s “plan” to make the announcements on 25 January. The SOP would have required every reporter to check facts with the government with the understanding that the story cannot run until the government has replied. This is evidenced by the curious style of newspaper reports in Singapore: the government’s reply comes first before the substance of the story is reported in subsequent paragraphs. For decades, reporting any story without the government’s stand incorporated within it would constitute “unbalanced” reporting, a cardinal sin according to the high priests of Singapore. My guess is that Wanbao would probably have tried to check facts with MHA, and MHA must have stalled for time. In other words, MHA would have known for days, (weeks?) that the news was likely to break.

For its part, the newspaper would have feared losing the scoop with every day that MHA stalled, since others might also have heard the rumours. For example, opposition politician Goh Meng Seng, online group blog TR Emeritus and others have since said that they were aware of murmurings even before the news broke on Wanbao. At some point, Wanbao might have indicated to MHA that it was going to run the story anyway, perhaps because they had other ways of corroborating their facts, whether or not ministry officials deigned to respond.

The ministry meanwhile was perhaps still paralysed, with part of it still unable to believe that a newspaper would dare flout the sacred SOP. Junior officers would have prepared a contingency plan to release the news; the problem was that senior officers wouldn’t give the plan the go ahead.

Now that the news has broken, outside their control, the ministry is probably trying to say that they had anyway planned to release the news. Of course, they had, except that they were trying to delay it for as long as possible. So, such a statement is both true, and yet from a wider perspective, hopelessly impossible to take at face value.

* * * * *

Lately, many reporters have come to me asking for my opinion of the “new normal”. Few of them got from me the answer they might have wanted to hear. I am quite sceptical about this term; I think too many people are being carried away.

While indeed society is changing and there is a gradual re-politicisation — though I hasten to add that it is very gradual and we are still very far from “normal” if one is use the term to mean something approaching the levels of political awareness and popular empowerment in truer democracies — I cannot convince myself that the government is “new” in any significant way.

In any earlier article, Some policies change as PAP government paddles furiously, I proposed a three-tier analysis. I argued that at the technocratic level, the government is trying to be more effective and responsive in meeting housing, transport and similar bread-and-butter concerns. However at the paradigmatic level, they are still complacent. They still believe that the old ideology of craving foreign investment, throwing pieces of gold at top talent, keeping less-than-top talent as cheap as possible, going for broke over GDP growth, going as fast as they can on immigration, remain the best ideas there are. If there is voter resistance, it is the voter who is wrong, not the PAP, though small concessions and dollops of public relations may be used to bridge the gap.

The third tier (which I called Group C in the earlier article) comprises the issues the party considers of existential importance. On these, they will resist as hard as they can. They are acutely aware that they risk losing power altogether if they let go of these old habits. Control of media, and the associated control of the national agenda are among them.

Balji was surprised that this incident shows “lessons not learnt” from the recent general election and the change in the media landscape, now nearly two decades long. He wrote:

That is really strange. This is not a stupid government, it has done a lot of good things for its people, it is respected overseas and its model of governance is highly sought after.

Yet, one of the basic attributes of a smart government — squaring with its citizens and carrying them along — seems to be missing.

I am not surprised. The PAP knows very well how the environment is changing. They just can’t bring themselves to contemplate changing their own ways. The risk that their hold on power would all unravel glues their feet to the tried and tested.

Let’s not imagine that the PAP government is going to bend flexibly with the times. The recent Chapter 11 filing of Kodak should be instructive. It is more than possible for an incumbent to remain in denial of changing circumstances even as it can see it all happening, and resist adapting. Fujifilm changed itself to ride the digital photography wave; Kodak was just paralysed till too late. Ditto, it is more than possible that what change PAP embarks on will be too little, too late. They may calcify instead.

When that happens, change comes through fracturing. Bits at the margins crack and crumble away. Junior to middle civil servants may turn heretical and walk away (or join the opposition). Old props, like once-reliable newspaper editors, may suddenly turn defiant. The great irony of trying hard to maintain control well past its use-by date, is that the end comes in a totally uncontrolled way.

Yet, a glance to my left made me stop. Here’s a photo opportunity, I said to myself, and the resulting picture is at left.

This was not the first time I have noticed it;. In fact, I wrote about it thirteen years ago in January 1999: Non-Chinese boys participating in the traditional lion dance. But this was the first time I had a camera with me.

In the earlier article, I wrote about Malay boys. They made up about half the members of the troupe going around marking the re-opening of shops and businesses after the new year. In this picture taken at the temple, one of them could possibly be Malay, the other looks Indian.

The cynical would say they’re doing it just to collect hongbaos (little red envelopes stuffed with money, traditionally given out at Chinese New Year), but I would say, why not? Does anyone think the Chinese boys (and a few girls) in the same troupes have a different reason for being there?

This is one instance when we can sing praises of money. The appeal of cash is non-discriminatory. If it promotes integration, go for it.

* * * * *

There probably was a time when, for Chinese Singaporeans, the city would be quite dead during Chinese New Year. I am talking about 50 years ago. Then, the different races tended to live in distinct parts of the city. The Malays were concentrated in Geylang Serai and further east, Indians were concentrated in Lower Serangoon and the Naval Base, the Chinese in several parts. It was also a time when adherence to community traditions was strong. Celebrating Chinese New Year would have been a really big thing for the Chinese, not like today when a good number would take the opportunity to travel.

The result must have been one where just about all Chinese would stop work and attend to family and celebration, and since the parts of Singapore they lived in were predominantly Chinese areas, they would have found their surroundings shut tight.

It’s a different Singapore today. The Chinese do not predominate to the same extent. My back-of-the-envelope calculations indicate that they constitute about 60 percent of the total population, or about 3.1 or 3.2 million out of 5.2 million. (My same calculations indicate that Malays now make up around 9 to 10 percent, Indians around 12 to 13 percent, and others — Filipinos, Bangladeshis, Indonesians, Burmese, Australians, Americans, Japanese, Europeans, Koreans, etc — make up nearly 20 percent). With a larger percentage of non-Chinese, it has become easier for businesses to stay open through the holidays. Our growing ethnic diversity is giving our economy a resilience and flexibility we did not have in the past.

On the second day of the new year, for instance, when my friends and I wanted to have lunch somewhere, there was no difficulty finding a place that was open. We were attended to by a mix of Filipino and Indian staff. Not far away, a Vietnamese restaurant and a Thai place was open, staffed by Vietnamese and Thais respectively.  That said, many shops that were open had Chinese staff too; once again the prospect of extra pay for working on a public holiday must have been attractive, just as it was for those in the lion dance troupes.

* * * * *

A middle-aged Chinese woman rode the lift down with us. She must have come out of her own kitchen, dressed as she was in shorts and a half-faded, old Hello Kitty T-shirt. For footwear, she had merely slipped on her flat clogs. Yet, she had a handbag with her and was clutching several hongbaos in her hand. Surely, dressed as homely as that, she could not be going out to visit relatives — a custom at Chinese New Year? While, costume-wise, the Chinese don’t go overboard like the Malays do at Eid, there is still a minimum level of dressing that is expected, if only to show a bit of respect to the visited family.

What was she thinking? I wondered.

Coming out of the lift, she headed for the car park. But instead of getting into a car and driving off, she walked right across the car park it to a bin centre where two Bangladeshi workers were transferring trash from smaller bins into a larger skip car. Going  up to the men, she gave each of them two hongbaos, at the same time smiling and saying some friendly words.

She put me to shame. I hadn’t done likewise to the workers around my block.

So, I asked around a few people more knowledgeable than I, and I thought I might share with readers what I learnt (apologies if you already know all this).

It’s obviously an important topic for many parents. A few months ago, I noticed several among my acquaintances figuratively biting their nails as their kids sat for the Primary School Leaving Examination (PSLE). This national exam for the 11-plus is often seen as a make-or-break point in their lives. The Education Ministry says it shouldn’t be (and rightly), and that our school system has several cross-pathways to allow slower developers to catch up. But I have the feeling that few parents know it or believe it. We more readily believe that the Singapore system is quick at judging and condemning, with no opportunities at remedy.

The diagram below should show the main pathways.

It looks like a board game, doesn’t it? But it’s a high stakes one.

The two secondary school pathways on the left side (Northlight-type schools and Normal Technical stream) rarely make it into our societal conversation. This may indicate the way Singapore’s priorities are permanently skewed towards high achievers, and the children of the rich and the privileged.

Normal Technical

Though seldom spoken about, the Normal Technical stream has been with us for quite a while. From an undated paper I found on the web,

The Normal Technical (NT) stream was established in 1994 to provide at least 10 years of general education to the lowest scoring students (approximately 15% or 7000 students) of each cohort (Ministry of Education, 2000) who were dropping out in large numbers after only 8 years of primary schooling. The government saw the need to equip these students who are deemed less inclined to academic studies with “the requisite skills and attitudes to enable them to contribute to the national economy” (Ng, 1993). The policy intent of the Ministry of Education (MOE) was not only to provide them with differential instruction, but a particular one that prepared them for further vocational and technical training at the Institute of Technical Education (ITE) after four years of secondary education. The curriculum was focused on strengthening students’ foundations in English and Maths. In addition to these, students are offered Basic Mother Tongue (Malay, Mandarin or Tamil, according to one’s racial background) and Computer Applications as compulsory subjects. NT students sit for the national GCE  ‘N’ level examinations at the end of the fourth year of secondary school.

However, they do fewer N-level exam subjects than those in the Normal Academic stream, to lighten the load.

Over the years, the pedagogical approach has become more practice-oriented, recognising that this group of students learn better that way. Nonetheless, from the same paper,

. . . low performance expectations coupled with narrowly defined vocational outcomes raise uncomfortable issues. It is impossible to talk of those at the bottom of the Singaporean educational system without acknowledging the dialectical tensions that exist within the wider society and educational culture which play out in schools and classrooms (Luke, 2005), principally, the tension between striving for excellence at the top while attempting to provide improving standards of education for all.

[snip]

In Singapore, students placed in the Normal Technical stream carry a social stigma that comes from being identified as being in the lowest stream in the education system. The Institute of Education has entered local lore for the corruption of its initials ITE as “It’s the End”. Parents’ hearts sink when their children are consigned to the stream. Their children’s climb up the academic ladder has only reached the lowest rung (Straits Times, 2004). Added to the anxiety of performing well in school is the discrimination against students in the lower streams face when it comes to the social scene. For example, a full-blown internet debate that highlights the divisiveness and elitism in Singapore schools started after a Raffles JC school-boy advised boys from ‘neighbourhood’ schools to “quit trying to climb the social ladder by dating students from top schools” (Seah, 2004).

Recently, it was announced that two new schools that are exclusively Normal Technical will be built, to open in 2013 and 2014 respectively. Previously these students were just in different streams alongside Normal Academic and Express in the same schools. The feeling is that this may impact their self-esteem and learning outcomes. The school may not be giving them a fair share of attention and its approach may lean towards the academic when Normal Technical students need different pedagogical styles. Education minister Heng Swee Keat said as much when he noted that the two new schools are being built on the success of schools like Northlight and Assumption Pathway, which are more vocation-oriented (Channel NewsAsia, 30 Dec 2011, First specialised Normal (Tech) school to open in 2013).

Another uncomfortable thing is that pupils in the Normal Technical stream are disproportionately Malay and male. We need an honest conversation about what may be needed to help them best. It may be an unpopular concept in this day and age when “gender equality” is an unquestioned ideal, but educationists have long known that boys need to be taught differently from girls — generally speaking. It may be that our school system is too “feminine”, thus serving our boys less well.

Northlight-type schools

Although the expectation is that Normal Technical stream pupils should make it to the Institutes of Technical Education (ITEs) to acquire higher skills, some still don’t make it. Thus a few years ago, a new stream, now consisting of two schools (Northlight and Assumption Pathway) has been created. They are designed for students who do very badly at the PSLE. Previously, these students would just drop out or have to stay back another year and try the exam again, but I believe officials have realised that this is a fruitless way to deal with the problem. Instead, there is a new realisation that these students need a whole different way of teaching and learning — more task-oriented, hands-on, with a quicker, shorter feedback loop. Rather than have them acquire abstract concepts in science and geography, or even more complicated technical facts, they need to be prepared for working life. Thus the pull-down menus of Northlight’s website has the following:

Among the learning outcomes for English (Years 3 and 4) are the ability to read charts, tables, schedules and maps, filling in forms with personal particulars, being able to understand and follow multi-step instructions, taking notes, and answering the phone. The Vocational > Hospitality section contains electives that include making breads, pastries and cakes, and running a deli. Listed too are hotel housekeeping skills and restaurant service skills.

A-levels versus International Baccalaureate

At the other end of the spectrum is the integrated program, in which students do a six-year course that skips the GCE O-level exam and aims for the A-level, the International Baccalaureate (IB) or something similar. I am told that this scheme was originally introduced in all-boys schools because it was felt that boys do better in an environment that is less exam-oriented. But gender equality — or more likely, prestige considerations — soon reared its head and all-girls schools now offer it as well. The jury is still out on whether it serves one gender better than the other.

What is however becoming common knowledge is that there are pros and cons between A-levels and IB. Apparently, those pursuing science subjects are better off with A-levels, because the exam demands a more structured curriculum that puts more emphasis on acquisition of knowledge. Pupils get a firmer foundation for university. The IB stresses self-directed learning and project work and is better suited for the humanities.

Specialised, independent schools

A number of specialised schools have recently been introduced into the system. They offer a core academic curriculum, plus intensive courses in their specialisations. We now have the Sports School, the NUS High School, the School of the Arts (SOTA) and latest one, the School of Science and Technology.

SOTA and NUS High School, which specialises in mathematics and science, only offer six-year integrated programs. I can understand that of NUS High School which aims to nurture the brightest young minds in academic fields, but it seems somewhat strange for SOTA to do so. A child can be artistically gifted without being academically gifted; is there no place for him there?

The Sports School, on the other hand, offer both O-level and integrated programs. Yet, here again, why not cater to the academically weaker students who need N-levels?

My contacts tell me that it’s parents that have largely determined this set-up. None of them will send their kids to specialised schools if the schools did not also promise a bright academic future. Singaporeans can’t shake off their skepticism about any kind of career prospects in sports, arts or such airy-fairy things.

One thing about the Sports School — its range of featured sports is rather odd. It has golf, netball, bowling which are not exactly what comes to mind when we speak of sports. Better known sports like gymnastics and sailing are tucked away under “other”, whereas tennis, rugby and basketball are missing altogether.

The School of Science and Technology is affiliated with Ngee Ann Polytechnic and offers a four-year program leading up to GCE O-levels. From its website, one sees that its emphases are on communication technology, electronics, media, and biotechnology, and it is probably meant to feed students to polytechnics, considering its use of language like this:

The Applied Learning approach is embedded in the SST teaching and learning process and it places a strong emphasis on the relevance of what is being learnt to the ‘real world’ and their own lives. This connection will aid in holding the attention of the students and motivating them to want to learn.

In SST, the Applied Learning approach encompasses learning that is active and relevant, authentic, integrated, community focused, learner centred, and process focused.

. . .  in other words, avoid the abstract and theoretical sciences.

So much for the scheme, what about content?

Singapore’s overall educational scheme may be nice, but what about the quality of content? If at all to be considered, it has to be a separate discussion altogether, which I didn’t set out to engage my discussants on. However, there were tantalising side comments . . .

Generally, Singapore students do well in international comparisons in math and science, though whether it’s related to cramming is perhaps a pertinent question.

With language and communication skills, there may be room for doubt. One person I asked said something to this effect: “If you want to know about the quality of the teaching of English, all you need to do is just hold a conversation with any English teacher in a neighbourhood school.” This may well be an unfair statement reflecting the jaundiced view of that particular speaker, but seeing the language skills the vast majority of school leavers have, I have a feeling that she isn’t all that far off the mark.

Another teacher — she teaches chemistry — said something that made me even more worried: “Some of my colleagues hold shockingly unexamined views about race and religion — and they’re teaching the social sciences and humanities.”

A third contact reported increasing disciplinary issues in our schools, but with so much flux in thinking about how much control teachers should exercise, and how much spontaneity to encourage, there’s been a very uneven response to this issue.

I wonder what they’re thinking of. Perhaps more closed-circuit cameras located all over the city? Perhaps extensive deployment of face-recognition software?

But why resort to such costly solutions — beside the question of intrusiveness — when a simpler one is available?

This is especially when the newspaper report, citing a statement made by the minister, Vivian Balakrishnan, said: “A recent National Environment Agency [NEA] study showed that almost 40 per cent of respondents would litter out of convenience instead of making a conscientious effort to bin their trash.”

I believe he was referring to a study carried out by the NEA (see soft copy of the report at http://www.publichygienecouncil.sg/news-and-events/news/87) which made the news a few months ago.

The year-long study found that 62.6 percent of the public always bin their rubbish, “whereas 36.2% are situational binners who do so only when it is convenient,” or “because they do not expect to be caught and fined.” 1.2% admitted to littering “most of the time”.

Buried amidst much of the usual lauding of past state efforts at keeping Singapore clean, the book also reports the findings of a sociological study, starting from page 28.  The fourth component of this study looked at the effectiveness of various intervention models. Five town centres similar in age an demographic characteristics were selected for the actual intervention study (results from page 125 on), in which measurements were taken at Weeks 1, 2, 3 and 5 with the intervention implemented during Week 2. Results from Week 3 and Week 5 would thus allow researchers to measure the continuing effect (if any) of intervention measures.

Four intervention strategies were tried out with the fifth town centre used as control.

• physical improvements to the infrastructure, i.e. more bins at closer intervals along walkways and a bin at the centre of a smoking area
• enforcement by uniformed NEA officers during peak hours
• promotion of cultural values, i.e. community invention involving volunteers and environmental messages
• public awareness campaigns, i.e. banners with anti-littering messages

The following table gives the average litter count per transect square after lunch/dinner for each of the town centres during the entire study period. Note that Week 2 was the intervention week:

In Week 2, only Tampines and Bedok gave statistically significant results, said the report. Making a bin more conveniently available seems to work best at lowering litter count, while community intervention (volunteers suggesting personal-prescriptive norms) also works.

Increasing policing does not work, nor do more banners and posters. “Singaporeans may be suffering from campaign fatigue, being tired of being told what they should do as good citizens,” the report noted.

The minister now tells parliament that a new campaign will be launched this year.

Renewed drive to Keep Singapore Clean

Singapore will launch a renewed Keep Singapore Clean campaign this year.

A recent National Environment Agency study showed that almost 40 per cent of respondents would litter out of convenience instead of making a conscientious effort to bin their trash, said Dr Vivian Balakrishnan, Minister for the Environment and Water Resources.

Therefore, while the Government will continue to ensure a comprehensive and effective public cleaning regime, it must also focus its efforts on fostering a stronger sense of social responsibility among all residents, he added.

The campaign will focus on education, engagement, enforcement, and improving the cleaning processes.

[truncated]

-- Straits Times, 17 January 2012.

Nowhere does the newspaper report say that more bins will be provided. Instead the ministry will explore “technological solutions”.

* * * * *

I noticed that post 9/11, many trashbins were removed from public areas. This happened not just in Singapore but in several cities around the world. Somebody must have imagined that  terrorists might leave bombs inside rubbish bins. Should one explode in a crowded area, the casualties would be considerable.

Today, it is a matter of practice that crowded public areas should not have any bins. Try looking for one at bus interchanges or metro stations and you will see what I mean. Yet these are the very areas with the most trash simply because they have the most people. This policy needs to be rethought.

The problem is compounded as landlords, including transport operators looking for rental income from their stations, discover that food outlets give far better yields than other retail trades. And, to maximise yields, food outlets are nearly all take-away. Why waste floor space by allowing people to sit at tables? But a lot of people don’t want to take away. They want to eat on the spot. So they stand around and eat out of plastic bags or styrofoam containers.

What we have is a situation where landlords and tenants have inadvertently embarked on a developmental strategy that generates public trash without taking any responsibility for it. Hence, a simple change in the rules will make a lot of difference: Require every food outlet (and they have to be licensed anyway) to provide at least one large bin nearby which they have to take care of.

* * * * *

The study also found that smokers were a major source of litter.

First of all, more effort has to be put in to reduce smoking. Previously, I have written about one good idea (Smoking out public service priorities) for which, regrettably, no one in government has shown any interest.

Regardless, the fact remains that for the foreseeable future, smokers will be among us. The thing to do is to designate smoking areas and provide sufficiently large sand trays and bins for them. As things stand, however, the report noted:

Smokers were observed congregating in one or two isolated, undesignated smoking areas in the town centres as they were prevented by law from smoking in sheltered areas and most were considerate enough not to smoke at high-traffic areas. Dr Goh (a researcher) identified one smoking area in each town centre and found that only two of the seven areas had a litter bin equipped with an ashtray. The bins were placed at the corners of the smoking areas and many smokers therefore did not make use of them. Given the volume of smokers who used the smoking areas, the ashtrays of the bins, if any, filled up quickly. The ashtrays were always full when the researchers checked and presented sight that would put off smokers from stubbing out their cigarettes.

* * * * *

In general, what the study found was that most people, smokers or not, were socially responsible. A majority would try hard to seek out bins for their rubbish. Even smokers took the trouble to congregate in customary smoking points, away from other people. What failed them was the state, in not providing sufficient infrastructure (bins), and profit-driven businesses.

That said, we need to recognise the fact that a good percentage of people are just plain irresponsible. Enforcement has a role to play, even if the town centre study didn’t show it to be effective, but maybe that has to do with the design of the study.

There is also a role for self-awareness and internalised social responsibility. This is probably best inculcated in the schools. Trying to do it with adults tends to end up as another preachy poster-and-banner campaign that only turns people off.

After decades of Keep Clean campaigns, it’s time to try a different approach.

If you have spare time this Chinese New Year, go see the digitally animated version of Qingming Shanghe Tu at the Singapore Expo (hall 3). It will be on until 6 February 2012. Admission for adults: $21; closes at 9 p.m.

However, do take a barf bag with you.

The Qingming Shanghe Tu, a 5.28-metre long scroll, is perhaps the most celebrated painting in Chinese art. Painted by Zhang Zeduan (1085 – 1145 CE) during the Song Dynasty, it provides a panorama of scenes from bucolic countryside to bustling city streets. It is generally believed that the city depicted was Bianjing, the Song capital, whose present name is Kaifeng, in Henan province. Containing 814 humans, 28 boats, 60 animals, 30 buildings, 20 vehicles, nine sedan chairs, and 170 trees, the painting gives a glimpse of life, trades, architecture and clothing during the Song period.

The original scroll is not on exhibit; only a copy is.

The highlight of the exhibition, which first went on show at the Shanghai World Expo in 2010, is a computer-animated wall, about 30 times the original. The houses, trees, city gate and bridges are almost exactly the same as in the scroll, but the people and animals are animated. They walk around, and gesticulate to each other. The boats on the river also drift upstream and downstream.

The digital wall flips from daylight to night. It gets quite magical when dusk falls and lanterns are lit. The restaurants and wine houses get crowded while life on the river calms down.

It is a fascinating marriage of computer animation and an old classic.

You will forget that you have a barf bag in hand.

But why is one needed? Because the preceding sections of the exhibition are so badly curated. Intended to provide context by sketching key features of life during the Song period — one  generally regarded as among the most prosperous and peaceful in Chinese history — the audio commentary threw it all away by:

1. Descending to meaningless comparisons with other countries, thus only proving how mean and insecure the Chinese are about their place in the world. At one point, to stress how rich and grand the Song capital was, it said Bianjing had a million population when London had a mere 15,000. For goodness sakes, one can pluck all sorts of comparisons from various time periods to “prove” anything. There is no need puff oneself up by running others down.

2. Sickening obsequiousness to Singapore state propaganda. Every time the commentary had something positive to say about Song China, it bent over backwards to suggest that Singapore shares the same “virtue”.

It’s alright if you speed through the preliminary sections, and spend time only at the scroll — both the copy of the original and the digitized version. You can easily spend an hour watching the figures on the animated wall. There is more than enough detail to keep you engrossed.

The revised ministerial salaries are probably at the upper end of Singaporeans’ tolerable range. While there have been the expected criticisms of the proposals issued by the Gerard Ee committee, the gross amounts being proposed are likely to take the sting out of this issue for the next general election.  The salary cuts of around 30% for cabinet ministers will assuage quite a lot of people.

It was never possible to arrive at a pay recommendation, or even a formula, that would leave everybody happy. The art of politics simply required that the government did enough to satisfy enough people, in order to reduce the penalty they have to pay at the next general election. My guess is that a 30% reduction is enough, but only time will tell.

On the other hand, it should be remembered that the sensitivity of this subject is not an independent variable. It is dependent on the competitiveness of the political landscape. Voters are less likely to take issue with high salaries if they feel they have real power to throw out incompetents or scoundrels at an election. One reason why high salaries became such an acute issue over the last two decades was because Singaporeans felt that the People’s Action Party (PAP) was raising its own leaders’ remuneration out of a sense of entitlement more than anything else, at the same time protecting their incumbency with all sorts of anti-democratic measures and guaranteeing themselves iron-clad job security.

This argument would therefore suggest the opposite conclusion. The issue of salaries, even if less feverish in the future, may remain a sore point so long as the political landscape is less than fully democratic. But how many votes that soreness may cost the PAP — ah, that’s the $64,000 question.

Although I think it is the general salary level rather than the specific mechanisms and formulae that most Singaporeans are interested in, there were a few specifics emerging from the report and the recent parliamentary debate that made me raise my eyebrows. I will discuss two of them below.

First however, let me outline the general principles behind the revised salary scheme.

Key features of the new salary scheme

A key reference — the report calls it a benchmark — is the total salary for an entry-level minister (MR4 grade). This will be 60 percent of the “median income of the top 1,000 Singapore citizen income earners”, said the report. Based on data from the income tax Year of Assessment 2011, the 60% figure is $1,100,000.

Total annual pay for other political appointments will be based on this benchmark through a scale of ratios.

By definition, the benchmarked total annual salaries are assumed to comprise 20 months’ salaries. Thus, the monthly salary for any particular grade is one-twentieth of the respective benchmark, as you can see in the right-most column of the table above.

The guaranteed salary is 13 months of that, not 20 months, since the total annual salary assumes 7 months of bonus payments. In other words, the basic salary of an MR4 minister is 13 x $55,000, or $715,000.

There are three different variable components of the total annual salary. The annual variable component is a government-wide bonus. The review committee assumes one month to be typical, but I have the impression that some years, they are in the three or four-months range. Perhaps readers can advise what the historical trends have been.

The performance bonus is determined by the prime minister for each individual office holder. Although the benchmark assumes 3 months’ performance bonus, as many as six months’ can be given out.

The national targets bonus will be based on four measures, of equal weight:

• Real median income growth rate
• Real growth rate of the lowest 20th percentile income
• Unemployment rate
• Real GDP growth rate

The review committee argued that these four measures will be sufficient to link ministerial salaries to the wellbeing of all Singaporeans. Among the suggestions it rejected was that of using the Gini coefficient as one of the measures. In doing so, it said,

Although some members of the public suggested that political salaries should reflect the level of income inequality, we prefer having real median income growth and real growth rate of the lowest 20th percentile income as indicators, as they focus more directly on raising the incomes of both average and vulnerable Singaporeans.

I shall come back to this further on.

Like the performance bonus, although the benchmark assumes 3 months’ national targets bonus, as many as six months’ can be given out.

This means that in a very good year, ministers can be paid:

• 13 months of salary
• Maybe 4 months (?) annual variable component
• 6 months’ performance bonus
• 6 months’ national targets bonus

For a minister at the MR4 grade, his total salary for that year would be 29 months’ pay, or $1.595 million (going by the 2011 monthly basic of $55,000). For the prime minister, it would be twice that, or over $3 million.

The president’s salary

For the record, let me just add briefly that the president’s salary will now be as follows: His monthly salary will be the same as the prime minister’s monthly salary (i.e. twice the MR4 monthly salary), with 13th month pay and the annual variable bonus. The president will not get performance bonus or national targets bonus.

The top 1,000

One of the two things that made me raise my eyebrows was the job distribution of the top 1,000 income earners. These, as recommended by the committee, would set the benchmark for ministerial salaries.

As you can see from the table published by the Straits Times (at right), those from the financial sector made up 38 percent of them.

It struck me that such a high proportion would mean an over-representation, a hunch I verified by looking at employment data by industry published by the Ministry of Manpower (below). In the third quarter of 2011, only 5.6% of employed persons in Singapore (not just citizens) were in the financial sector.

In an era when there is general disgust at the way bankers and money traders have brought the world economy to the edge of an abyss by their greed and short-termism, and at the way they have been paying themselves fat bonuses even through bad times,  it seems rather questionable to link ministers’ salaries to this breed.

Fat and easy national target bonuses

As mentioned above, the national target bonus is based on 4 measures. In the annex to its report, the committee set them out in greater detail, thus:

My immediate impression is that the mid-target (i.e. to earn three months’ bonus) is actually quite easy to achieve. Take the last measure — real GDP growth rate (i.e. adjusted for inflation). It’s a relatively low 3 percent.

The measure for unemployment rate is also problematic, because Singapore offers no unemployment benefit to those laid off and we have no system for people to register as unemployed. My guess is that our unemployment statistics are based on periodic sampling surveys. Besides the uncertainty that such a method produces, there is also the risk that the figure can change depending on how definitions are tweaked.

Then, the  targets for income growth rates for the median income earner and the 20th percentile earner are the same. This means there is no incentive to close the income gap. Not only did the review committee dismiss using the Gini coefficient, the measures it chose to use do nothing to incentivise a closing of the income gap.

There is also the difference between the GDP growth target and the income growth targets, with the former being higher than the latter. Why, if GDP grows 3%, should the median Singaporean’s income only grow by 2%? Well, it can happen, if the population of Singaporeans grow (and the growing national pie is divided by a faster-growing population), but with our extremely low birth-rate, we know this is not a likely explanation. You’d be forgiven if you believed that the median Singaporean ought to see a 3% rise in his income too, all things being fair, and that ministers’ bonus incentives should reflect that.

So where would the excess go? Which segments of our economy would grow by more than the GDP rate, to balance out median income growth that lags GDP growth? There are four likely categories: (a) the richer segments, (b) corporate profits, (c) increasing numbers of foreigners, and (d) the taxman. In other words, the incentive structure appears hard-wired to reward ministers for “business as usual”: Widen the income gap, keep up immigration, continue shovelling profits to corporates at the expense of personal pockets, and raise taxes and government fees.

Ho Kwon Ping, executive chairman of Banyan Tree Holdings, highlighted this in a talk he gave Monday, 16 January 2012, at a seminar organised by the Institute of Policy Studies (IPS). The institute had prepared the statistics for him.

Doctors in both cities earn about the same. Likewise, both Singapore and Hong Kong are open to foreign labour. Yet there is this disparity.

If we look at other developed countries, again, Singapore looks like the outlier. Ho said, “First, professionals like doctors and lawyers are paid slightly better in Singapore than the average of the IPS sample of developed countries. Second, our lower-income workers fare much worse than their counterparts in developed countries.

“In fact, in Germany and Australia where immigration policies are more restrictive, construction workers earn about — believe it or not — half the salary of a doctor.”

An excerpt of Ho’s speech was carried in the Straits Times, 17 January 2012.

Ho didn’t want to try diagnosing the problem, except to say that after looking at nurses, the wage gap closes as skills go up – which is not a terribly informative finding since it is true everywhere. It is the enormous gap between construction workers and plumbers on the one side and doctors (representing professionals) on the other that requires explanation.

Instinctively, readers would say supply and demand lie at the bottom of this phenomenon. Singapore’s open-door policy to foreign labour is the direct cause of such low wages in lower-skilled sectors. And you would be right. Nor is it confined to foreign labour. There are spill-over effects on many other low-skill jobs where Singaporeans also work in, e.g. cleaners, airconditioner servicemen, food service workers.

Indeed, one can certainly boost wages by restricting supply, However, unless skills and productivity rise, what one gets is smaller output (because fewer workers) at a higher price. This is why many among us would say, let’s take a softly, softly approach. The middle class fear that if the wage gap closes, they will have to pay more for services that they consume. Cognisant of this, the government too is applying little more than the gentlest tap on the brakes.

What seems hard for Singaporeans to imagine is a worker in these industries being far more productive than he presently is, thereby earning more without sacrificing output. This inability to visualise how we can get the same done with half the people is holding us back. We take half-steps to address the problem, because we are fearful of withdrawal symptoms should cheap labour come to an end.

I said half, because Ho Kwon Ping said half. He cited something a Korean construction company told him as they were building one of our casinos. The Koreans had noticed that their subcontractors in Singapore had twice as many workers as would have been needed in Korea.

Just the other day, I saw an example of “the Singapore way”. A worker who had injured his back told me it came about from a fall while carrying 50-kg sacks of cement up makeshift stairs.

The immediate question I had – which is not particularly relevant to this article – was why he flouted the safety rule that no man should try to lift more than 20 kg. He had no choice, he said. His boss would fire him if he did not do as told. The small point of relevance here is that our foreign labour policies are so careful to please employers, they give carte blanche powers to bosses to fire workers at will; in the same way, our policymakers may be paralysed with fear when it comes to telling them that going forward, they need to pay workers more and use fewer of them.

However, more pertinent to this article was the worker’s answer when I asked him why it was necessary to carry sacks of cement up rickety stairs in the first place. There was no lifting equipment — was the answer.

And there you have it: a vicious cycle.  Assured of plentiful supply of cheap labour there is no incentive to mechanise. The result is that human beings are used as mules. Is it any wonder that our productivity is abysmal?

Lest the more hard-hearted among us see the issue merely as one of comparative cost of human muscle versus cost of machinery, I will hasten to add that relying on large numbers of low-skilled workers – not just foreign ones — generate a variety of social costs too. Overcrowding and social friction have been mentioned many times. Businessmen may not take these costs into account, but everybody else on this island pays the price for him.

But I want to add two more costs. The first is that — and here I am referring to low-wage Singaporeans — creating an underclass by paying workers in certain vocations a less-than-living wage breeds resentment. It changes the tenor of society. The rich actually feel more insecure when they are surrounded by the poor.

The second springs from the case of the worker with the injured back. He and other injured workers then put demands on our healthcare system. As we all know, in healthcare, costs can be considerable and bed capacity already very limited.

At the end of the day, it is a fallacy to think low-wage workers are cheap.