Padd Solutions

Converted by Falcon Hive

Santayana Night

@ 09:38 , , 0 comments


It's new year's eve again, and I feel no compunction to join the merry-makers out there. As it would often seem to me, New Year's Day is just another day. Why would I suffer the vicissitudes of a crowded night in anticipation of it?

This year, though, I do feel that the coming of the year has some sort of significanceperhaps as a celebration of the passing of days past and of hope for the future?

Well, you're likely to reap what you've sowed for the past year or even earlier, so you shouldn't be too surprised at what's coming. And wishing for luck is meaningless. I just don't like the vague idea of hope, without a good reason behind it, as it soon translates disappointmentas many will find out once again.

Maybe, for this year, the fact that the new millennium is entering into its teens is a fact worth celebrating? After all, when will you see a 9-year-old millennium turn 10 again? But, the interesting idea aside, does that really make a difference?

It seems hard to find much significance when the coming of the year does not by itself bring about change. But I think I found a good and simple answer.

Ultimately, the greatest meaning that could be ascribed to the occasion lies not so much in looking towards the new year as in looking at the passing one. And it's not to look at the past for some sort validation for present decisions on the future, but to look at past mistakes and to learn from them.

I think that's what new year resolutions amount to if they're any good at allyou tell yourself not to repeat the mistakes of the past year (or years). That's much more concrete and meaningful than having a vague and ephemeral hope for the coming year, or a determination to do a random assortment of things that you don't have much reason to believe you would end up doing. It gives a genuine reason to be hopeful.

And with that in mind, I hope you have a happy new year.


I just remembered an article I read a few months ago that talks about how and why Singaporeans are forward-looking and orientated towards the future.


Basically, the article says that because Singapore does not really have a glorious founding history to look back to (its independence was viewed with a sense of disaster and failure – i.e. failure to unify with Malaysia), Singaporeans are forced to forge a sense of national identity that is always focused on future possibilities for the nation.

Quite the bon mot there. Unfortunately, just as the article talks about myth-making, this is itself a myth.

Singapore is forward-looking inasmuch as policy makers and government planners make plans (or try to) for the future. But how many people are involved in making such decisions? Many Singaporeans don't even get to vote on who should represent them.

The truth is Singaporeans are always justifying their choices with reference to the past. How many times have we both heard and argued that we can be sure the current government or system is the right one because of its track record? Even the article suggests the same notion: Look at what we've built – surely that means we're making the right choices?

Even discounting the fact that the article itself argues for the unreality of the time present as such (to Singaporeans, it is merely "an incidental passage towards time future"), it is a mistake to be too focused on the successful present. Present success has little bearing on present decisions. It can only validate past decisions. The economic accomplishments of Singapore are not due to decisions made today or even yesterday, but decisions made as far back as decades ago.

The rationale that you make certain decisions today because similar decisions made in the past have proven to yield good results today is not self-sufficient logic – it is not necessarily the best way to make decisions. Since the consequences of today's decisions lie in the future and are unverifiable, we cannot simply make judgements based on the empirically verifiable. We also need to question the reason behind our decisions today, keeping in mind that the present is different from the past.

It is a matter of fact that Singaporeans persist in following the ways of the past because those worked. They don't find it necessary or urgent to question such assumptions in light of the fact that 2009 is very different from 1969, to consider that maybe it's time to change their political outlook for the future of the country. Moreover, there is a perpetual wealth of self-congratulatory messages, while criticisms tend to either be confined to the trivial or dismissed as dismissive of the achievements of the nation thus far.

If the article can say that every National Day Singaporeans come together to look towards the future of the nation, we can equally say that every Election Day they come together to put their confidence in the past.

I wonder which is more significant.


An expensive naiveté

@ 18:57 , 0 comments



I read with some amusement a student-written editorial in a campus newspaper. It deals with the issue of cutting bankers' bonuses, and its conclusion is that we shouldn't because we will lose out if we do. It makes me wonder if it's not the case that at least one of the writers is an aspiring banker.

I call into question the article's portrayal of a symbiotic relationship between bankers and society. Yes, they generate income, provide capital that ultimately creates jobs and etc. But this is a bit like saying you need your abusive husband because he earns money. Sometimes, you have to weigh whether the abuse you get is better than being independent, though no doubt the latter will be hard.

I say this because of two fundamental problems with bankers and their performance. First, there is no balance between risk and reward. Everybody wins when the times are good, especially bankers, with their large bonuses. However, when things take a turn for the worse because of the latter's decisions, society is left to foot the bill. Sure, plenty of bankers lost their jobs, but that's after they have profited massively from the bubbles they created. Besides, many others who were not in the driver's seat of crisis creation also lost their jobs. Is it surprising that people are angry, especially when the bankers want to keep their bonuses despite all this?

And aren't the trillions that taxpayers have spent to bailout the banks a good enough demonstration of a lopsided relationship? Privatising the gains and socialising the losses – that's a good description of current practice.

Second, bankers' performance is overrated. The article says that bonuses "should be directly linked to a bankers’ long-term performance and should not reward reckless risk taking". But the point is that's not how they work. Bankers are rewarded for the right results regardless of whether they did it right. They get the money as soon as they show that they are turning a profit. The large bonuses are not given only after they can show many years of consistent results, the ultimate proof of good performance. That wouldn't be something the bankers want either, and hence they would also quit. Thus, the article's call for not cutting bankers’ bonuses can only mean one thing, and that is the continuation of a broken system.

The conclusion that I draw is therefore very different: We should cut their bonuses until the bankers have something to show for them. Otherwise, all we are doing is incentivising bad behaviour. It might be hard to cut a hand off, but we should if it turns out to be gangrenous.

Coursework is coming to a head, so I'm just going to jot down a quick one.


Sometime last week I encountered a utilitarian objection to John Rawls' difference principle. It is put forward by economist John Harsanyi and goes like this:
Consider a society consisting of two individuals. Both of them have their material needs properly taken care of, but society still has a surplus of resources left over. This surplus can be used either to provide education in higher mathematics for individual A, who has a truly exceptional mathematical ability, and has an all-consuming interest in receiving instruction in higher mathematics. Or it could be used to provide remedial training for B, who is a severely retarded person. Such training could achieve only trivial improvements in B’s condition (he could perhaps learn how to tie his shoelaces) but presumably it would give him some minor satisfaction. Finally, suppose that it is not possible to divide up the surplus resources between the two individuals. The difference principle would require that these resources be spent on B’s remedial training, since he is the less fortunate of the two individuals. In contrast, both utilitarianism and common sense would suggest that they be spent on A.
This scenario is quite absurd, and hence I disagree that it can yield any satisfying conclusion. In a society with only two individuals, I contend that it makes little sense to give surplus resources to one person just on the basis that it would produce greater satisfaction by allowing him to learn something not directly translatable into practical advantages. Why would it matter? Why would the person care about satisfaction that can be gained from learning higher mathematics? What is the point?

In reality, people gain satisfaction for tangible reasons. A person is likely to gain satisfaction from learning higher mathematics because it allows him to further his own interests in the context of living in a complex society. Even if it is purely out of passion, it would be a passion that he seeks to share with other people (who are able to appreciate his abilities) in various ways. I find it difficult to imagine a hermit gaining much satisfaction from learning mathematics while living alone in a cave. While that may be possible, it would be the exception and not the rule.

Hence, there is no reason to hold on to a moral rule that demands that we always choose the option that we perceive as leading to higher satisfaction. Estimates of satisfaction are complex and are likely to have a social dimension. In situations like that which is described above, the choice is not a moral choice but an arbitrary one. Sticking to the utilitarian rule in this context only seems silly and not at all common sense.

In this sense, utilitarianism may be good at giving us directions, but I'm not sure those would lead us anywhere.


A while ago I talked about my scepticism towards concepts like Corporate Social Responsibility. While it's not nowadays considered nice or constructive to be dismissive of such things – we are dismissing all the good that do exist in the world, they would say – I think I gave a good enough explanation of why those are inherently absurd. But allow me to elaborate on it, with a view to what we can do.

What I'm going to say might not sound new here, but I hope it's a coherent synthesis of the ideas I have expressed, delivered concisely at a particular angle of social commentary.

A few centuries ago, it might have been feasible to appeal to a traditional regard for virtues or a sense of honour and responsibility in the powerful – noblesse oblige, the responsibility of those who have. That was a world of stratified social relations based on feudal or patriarchal links. There were strong forces of tradition that prescribe relationships between a someone of higher rank and someone of lower rank, relationships generally involving responsibility and even compassion on one side and loyalty on the other. Appeals to the ideas associated with such traditions would thus make perfect sense.

Now, I'm not looking at history with nostalgic glasses. Of course, there were plenty of inherent injustices in the old stratified societies. What I'm trying to point out is the anachronism of a method with respect to the times.

The rise of the classical liberals has destroyed the old forms of society. Social relations are no longer to be forged out of customs and slavish adherence to associated ideas. Rather, as Adam Smith suggested, they are to consist of mutual relations of self-interest. This is the bourgeois revolution. Fetters of tradition and its morality were to be removed to allow all men (and eventually women) to advance their own interests to a potentially unlimited extent. The rule of law is to be established to keep things in order, but no longer are people bound by prescribed roles and responsibilities.

The only duty one owes is to the state, the embodiment of the social contract. But the rhetoric of loyalty and virtue that is still frequently used sits uncomfortably with the new direction of political philosophy. Strictly speaking, we have a duty to the state not because of some traditional moral concept or other, but because we are bound by the common interest in a stable society.

This arrangement sounds fine and well. However, the role of the state is still a grey area. We know why the state is there, but is the existence of a raison d'être enough?

In practice, the state needs to perpetually affirm its purpose and existence through its acts, which interfere even with our daily lives. A state that does not act is a state that no one has faith in; it is naturally one that will subsequently cease to exist. Some people might wish to say otherwise, but reality attests to the fact that the only viable states are states that act. And so what the state ends up doing is a matter of concern, and with it comes the question of its role and responsibilities.

The problem, as in the case of other legal entities such as corporations, is with the fact that the state is not a person. The state is a machine consisting of multitudes of individuals and bureaucratic apparatuses with non-human systemic considerations, likely controlled by certain interests that are themselves collective groups. The state has legally-defined responsibilities, but an appeal to its sense of responsibility or to its moral sense is useless. What you might expect to move a monarch or a lord is not likely to move a modern state with highly distributed powers, especially since it is constructed from relations of mutual self-interest.

As such, appealing to morality – that might work on some individuals within the system, but it would be absurd to expect it to move the system as a whole. Chances are, that way, we will be hung out to dry waiting for our concerns to be addressed satisfactorily.

If we assume a system that is somewhat just, as Rawls does, relying on the state's legally-defined responsibilities would be enough. But I fail to see how a state that is, in reality, perpetually in the stranglehold of particular interests would ever realistically be just enough. We only need to look at the state of the world to confirm this: How many people remain hungry, poor and oppressed just because certain interests have to be kept satisfied, even in liberal democracies (keeping in mind, of course, the effect one nation has on another)?

And, if what I have said so far is correct, the satisfaction of the concerns of those who are unjustly treated cannot be achieved merely by appealing to old concepts and traditions of morality. In a society built on mutual self-interest, you are pretty much responsible for advancing your own interests. This is why those who are oppressed must organise themselves as a force to fight for their interests.

But should they act only within legally-defined limits?

I believe that they cannot always do so. Ideally, we would want obey the law to preserve stability in the society for everyone's benefit. However, the resources at the disposal of the powerful make attempts to effect change through the prescribed channels very difficult. The playing field is far from level. Thus, it is unreasonable to expect us to only exercise our political freedom by voting in elections and appealing to our political representatives.
We need other avenues, the most drastic of which is revolution. This is the practical argument for extra-legality. And since the same argument applies to the constitution, which is not necessarily just, extra-legality really amounts to extra-constitutionality.

Now, I do believe that the virtues are not completely lost. Otherwise, I could easily be construed as envisioning a world moved entirely by the force of might. However, in order to be able to appeal to them effectively, we have to take people out of their modern (liberal) institutional contexts. We have to appeal to human beings, the timeless individuals, not to citizens, soldiers or politicians. And this is the essence of the moral argument for extra-constitutionality we do not adhere merely to the laws, but also to common moral concepts that hopefully have not died out. The moral appeal would strengthen the movement. However, before the movement can speak on such a level, it has to be able to operate on a level beyond the constitutional (i.e. in keeping with the practical argument). Otherwise, it would be trapped by the legal realist loop that smothers moral thinking.

In effect, what I espouse is a belief in the freedom to fight. Neo-liberals and free marketeers believe in free competition. But, as much as they might want to deny it, they are stuck within their own rigid systems. To be truly for liberty, we cannot advocate only a free market for products. We must advocate, above all, a free market for ideas and the political actions of individuals.

Conflict of interest is a circumstance of justice, and the lack of a viable conflict of interest in real life is an indication that something is wrong. A political system where we can only vote for parties with few differences between them is recipe for perpetual injustice. We must bring back other avenues of pressing for our interests, even if they are illegal. And we must appeal to human beings outside of the control of the modern state to fight in the name of what is good and just. This is the vision of justice as struggle and dialectics.

It is what it takes to strive for justice in the kind of society we live in.



A week or two ago, the blog of someone I know received an unexpected comment. Some unknown dude (I shall presume it's a guy, since he sounds like one) seemed to have found the blog and commented, on the entry that talks about moving away from home for the year, that the author sucks and must be "a closet gay".

Well, I don't see what could justify such a comment to begin with. Is any personal reflection a sign of someone being a closet gay?

Another funny thing is the idiot seemed to have done this at work, without being aware that his IP address could be traced to his office. And apparently he works for Firebrand Interactive Ltd at North Bridge Road. Sounds like a pretty regular office worker.

So we can tentatively establish that some Singaporean office workers are juvenile. But the fact that he used the word "gay" in a derogatory manner also indicates that he is intolerant towards a sexuality that is different from his own. And I guess it would not be news to anyone who knows Singapore to say that many Singaporeans are intolerant in the homophobic sense.

Personally, I have little tolerance for the intolerant, but I like how John Rawls puts it: In the absence of a real threat to liberty, we should tolerate the intolerant because we shouldn't act unjustly just because others act unjustly. Moreover, a society that tolerates people who have no title to complain about intolerance towards them (because they preach intolerance themselves) might have a civilising influence on them over time.

In other words, we don't try to outlaw them like they try to outlaw others because we're civilised people, unlike them.

But I'm a Marxist, so I do believe that we should fight back. And we can do so by aggressively questioning the rationale of their political crusade. I'm confident that there is no way institutionalised homophobia is defensible in a modern and secular country. Who said it is immoral and why? Why is it unnatural? The clothes you wear are unnatural – do you propose having them banned for being unnatural? These are just basic questions that I've never heard a homophobe give satisfactory answers to.

And, even under the purview of freedom of speech, there are reasonable limits. Freedom of speech is not an excuse, for one, to have someone in a public position run away with her mouth. Leadership is, after all, supposed to carry responsibility, right? What would happen if public leaders started talking about their reservations regarding certain ethnic groups? What effect would that have on the society?

But I've written on this before, so besides the few points that I've raised here, I would like to leave the intolerant with something they do deserve – ridicule.

I bet they haven't spent much time thinking about what they believe. Maybe only prayed hard about it.



A very common accusation made against the left-wing is that it is too idealistic. Communism fails to take into account human nature, they like to say – it's just too impractical.

Those who are fashionably or vacuously apathetic might be especially fond of this criticism. Moreover, according to many of these people, left-wingers and 'liberals' aren't just dreamers, they are also "self-righteous" bores who are always "pontificating".

As a matter of fact, there seems to be an inherent contradiction when one says that Marxism is "idealistic". Marx is said to have turned Hegelian dialectics on its head (or back on its feet) when he transformed it from an idealist to a materialist approach. Marxists generally see matter, not ideas, as the beginning and end of reality.

So why is Marxism labelled as "idealistic"? Well, you might say, that just means that it focuses on an ideal state or has an ideal state of society as its end.

What about democracy, then? Is it not essentially an ideal state of society? A few centuries ago, many would have laughed at those who extolled the virtues of democracy. It's too ideal, they'd say – the people are too unruly to rule themselves. Compare that to the common perception of it today. Many of the same people who would dismiss Marxism as too idealistic are likely to chide authoritarian regimes for being undemocratic. There's at least a tad bit of irony there, don't you think?

But democracy doesn't really have an ideal end, you might now say. It's an achievable state that has been realised and isn't aimed at creating a utopia.

Well, has it been achieved? Is the democratic process not ongoing, repeated regularly in the form of voting exercises? Does it not have to constantly face forces that seek to usurp its procedures, perhaps even powers that want people to choose to be unfree? Is it not always in conflict with the bureaucracy, the state within the state that has its own aims and its own way of doing things?

Democracy, therefore, is an end in itself, and one that will never be 'achieved' in the simple sense of the word. Democracy is a constant struggle.

And so is socialism.

Orthodox deterministic Marxism does lay claim to a scientific view that presages an inevitable Communist society, which is preceded by a period of 'socialism', a dictatorship of the proletariat. And Leninism goes on to say that this period is brought about by a revolutionary party. But these set paths and clear milestones are not necessary elements of Marxism or of its method of historical materialism.

Some Marxists believe in the constant struggle and conflict for a just society – a class struggle, the dialectics of society. Just as the struggle for democracy never really ends, this struggle is perpetual. We make no predictions or promises about a specific kind of utopian society at the end. We know, however, that struggle is the way to progress, that entrenched traditions of injustice have to be gradually worn down. And our end is the human being, who is deserving of equality and dignity.

Gradual progress is not impossible progress. It does not call for world revolution. I believe in working within the constraints of parliamentary government, in working autonomously as individuals in resisting exploitation, as well as in extra-constitutional methods – we can and should use whatever means is necessary and beneficial without contravening the over-riding principle: The equality and dignity of human life. We work towards an end, but we do not specify a particular situation as the outcome, much less do anything and everything to achieve that outcome. Marxism isn't about gulags and purges. Marxism should be humanist and highly realistic.

So, again, what is it about the left that is so idealistic? Choosing the status quo is not being realistic. Left-wingers are the genuine realists because they are attuned to reality and the great suffering that is present, which motivates them to fight for change. They are also realists because they believe that real material life is too important to be dictated by abstract ideas. Reality bears down upon us like an inexorable force. Hunger demands food; tiredness demands rest; discomfort demands alleviation. So when we are told that we have to face poverty and deprivation because of some concept or other, we find it difficult to accept, and we fight. And that is to face reality. That is what it really means to be realistic.

Now to those apathetic types, according to whom we are always "pontificating" and being merely "faux intellectual", there's not very much that needs to be said. Of course, such comments do not constitute criticism, merely some brash lashing out that likely hides an inferiority complex. And if such comments apply to us, they would apply to anyone who has argued for anything, such as in academics. Have such comments enough merit to invalidate whole fields of inquiry, just because these people have no mind for arguments?

But I think we should be quite sympathetic to them. After all, we are opposed to the real faux intellectuals – the 'experts' who treat ideas and unintelligible categories as science. In any case, the left-wing position should not be difficult to grasp. If everything else is ignored, an essential principle can still be easily understood, one that a fireman adheres to everyday: People first, property and wealth later.





This is a sad story of political repression.

Repression always makes for a sad story, no matter what they would have you believe. That might sound amazingly obvious to those accustomed to living in a free society, but in authoritarian ones, things get rather muddled. Repression leads to stability and prosperity, the official tune goes. If the government and the people had to deal with politics, they would have less time to concentrate on the economy.

That is utterly simplistic, of course. There is no reason why healthy political discourse cannot contribute to greater stability and prosperity. As a matter of fact, political accountability is an important factor in creating stability and prosperity in the most economically developed nations. And how do we have real accountability without healthy political discourse?

Certainly, the happy story of repression is a way to justify control.

Recently, five activists in Singapore were acquitted of "participating in a procession without a valid permit", a charge brought against them for simply walking down the street with slogans written on their T-shirts. A small victory, perhaps, but what should concern people is the fact that an assembly of more than four people is illegal. Worse, the law has been changed to ban any gathering of people that is in any way political, no matter the number. And that, supposedly, is for security reasons.

I really doubt that docile Singaporeans are going to riot, especially a mere handful of them.

What seems clear is that such laws are part of a long tradition of political paranoia.

On that note, let's assume for a while that the authorities are right. Let's say that even without hostile armies ravaging its countryside like in the Russian Civil War, a country needs to crack down on dissent in order to establish a semblance of stability. How long can such a circumstance last before all legitimate reasons evaporate if the country is not to be considered a failed state?

It's like taking a loan to keep afloat. Perhaps necessary in the short run, but if one does it for 40 or 50 years, one creates an unhealthy dependence, if one is not already bankrupt.

How long has it been since Singapore needed to be paranoid about dissent? If the authorities think that they have always been doing well, why are they so afraid? And a few decades ago, they had the cover of the Cold War. Now, with the Communists out of the way, the country that stands for freedom still doesn't bat an eyelid when its ally persists in its own internal Cold War against freedom.

It is said that politics is the art of the possible. I think politics is an art where any absurdity is possible.

But what's so bad about crushing dissent if things are working fine, you might ask. The first sign of a problem is the lack of substance in the political discourse. As differing opinions are suppressed and people are indoctrinated in the official line, no effective opposition remains to put the government in check when it is blundering into a catastrophe.

Such conditions have become an entrenched reality in Singapore. A small group of elites from the same schools and institutions are constantly being pulled into the government, which is essentially synonymous with the ruling party. People who dare speak out are hit with charges of libel and various legal-political methods of silencing them. As a result, people become reluctant to speak, and whoever is not co-opted is generally unable to match the intellectual muscle of the ruling group. The political culture is dead. The existing ideas are the ideas of the ruling class, and they exist to reinforce the position of the ruling class.

Hubris and bad luck are the only ingredients needed for a disaster.

So what can be done in this situation? Perhaps change has to come slowly; perhaps gradual change can happen. Or perhaps there will be an explosion of discontent one day; perhaps there will be crowds in the streets, trying to effect immediate change.

When that happens, will the rulers themselves march out to club their opponents to death? If they are determined to continue writing the story of repression, yes, they would.

And if they succeed, the blood on their hands would merely be what is needed to grease the economy.

To those less enamoured of the economic realities of the world today, things might seem pretty bleak.

We've witnessed the destruction wrought by the big risk-takers and deregulators, those who stand for an unblinking faith in 'experts' and suit-wearing leaders; those who oppose all fetters in the name of freedom, and who think that the consequent risks can be managed.

Yet it's unlikely that these people will go away. There is a renewed consciousness of the need for regulation and moderation, but business culture remains as people continue to buy into it. There's a persistent love for the well-dressed, for achievers, success stories and unlimited accumulation – the Faustian of Spengler actualised; a penchant for concepts and the infinite with little regard for reality.

Who can stand against the colossi who bestride the world, at whose legs we merely peep about to find ourselves dishonourable graves?

From my experience, the average Joe is typically of the opinion that the old Left is a thing of the past. Didn't Communism effectively end with the collapse of the Berlin Wall? And the more astute might observe that developments such as Reaganomics and Thatcherism, as part of a general shift towards the right in the developed world, indicate that capitalism has inexorably triumphed.

History has ended, and it ended at Wall Street.

Now the opposition, it seems, is chiefly between the Right and the New Left. The latter is an umbrella for various causes ranging from women's rights to environmentalism, causes that are frequently allied but do not form a unified front. Most coherently, it is embodied by people with progressive sensibilities who are labelled as 'liberals'. These people are opposed to the markedly right-wing but are often inherently capitalistic. Thus, they are perhaps best described as left-of-centre or even centrist.

Significantly, however, they do not have a strong opposition towards the fundamental characteristics of bourgeois-capitalist thinking. They are also frequently misled by positivism, by a tendency towards abstraction and spiritualism, or by a false sense of independence. Thus, in principle, they represent merely variations of the ideas of the ruling class.

And thus, from the perspective of political ideology, their opposition is not truly dialectical. Consequently, it cannot be truly transformative.

However, I submit that to think in such terms is to deviate from dialectical materialism. As Georg Lukács put it, "It is not men’s consciousness that determines their existence, but on the contrary, their social existence that determines their consciousness." As I interpret it, this implies that the struggle against the social framework of naked capitalism follows from our economic conditions of existence. In effect, we have to look at what is made possible by economic stimuli that push people into action, rather than how ideological currents drive people.

Class struggle embodies the conflict between advancing mode of production and restraining social relations. I think the conflict is intensified when the prevailing social relations actually threaten to undermine the current mode of production. Witnessing the threat posed by modern capitalism to economic stability and survival is a wake up call for many people. Now more aware of dangers inherent in a 'free' market that is dictated by profiteering entrepreneurs, people are calling for greater regulation, smaller corporations, and the abolition of reckless risk-taking.

I think this should be regarded as a movement in the struggle. It has the potential to nudge the focus away from individuals, in the form of industry leaders, and towards the masses, brought about by greater state oversight and the increased strength of workers relative to smaller companies.

As such, I think anyone who is interested in social change should join hands and put their collective weight behind this development. Ideological currents do not often hold people together for long, and there is no use sitting down and waiting for a revolution. Marx himself seems to have disparaged Ultra-Leftists who refused to work with reformists. Left or New Left, we should be interested in improving the economic conditions of the masses, and this can be achieved in some measure by taking power away from the conmen and the charlatans who have controlled the government in past decades.

This could be a chance to undo past reverses and make another step forward.

As for the undying business culture, there is no need to resign ourselves to it. We must cultivate the seeds of resentment that have been sown. This is our side of the culture war. Now that the men in suits are down, albeit only slightly, it's time to press the advantage. We must again join forces with all who are of similar mind to show that the myth of the entrepreneurial Atlas is poison to economic well-being, that the world of business is not the world of the seeing, and that solidarity rather than selfish profit-seeking is the path of stable progress.

Let the precarious economic conditions of the day lead our way. There is hope in solidarity of action. And there is hope for a gradual progress towards a better society.




I might sometimes be guilty of this myself, but I try hard not to be. I have very little respect for people who don't do as they say, people who don't keep their word. But, of course, at the same time, I'm not sure I like Chigurh-style honour either. I guess the choice is often between two evils. As they say, there is no such thing as a free lunch; no such thing, perhaps, as genuine kindness.

Another quip that is often repeated is "Talk is cheap". It sure is. It's much cheaper to talk about integrity than to actually practice it at the cost of giving up the advantages you get by being unprincipled. And, ironically enough, when some people are caught red-handed, they'd be full of it – they'd be full of remorse, warning others not to follow their example, reshaping themselves anew as moral leaders.

But what if they had never been caught?

On a related note, you might expect that I don't believe in things like Corporate Social Responsibility. Well, no surprises here – you'd be right on the money. Corporate Social Responsibility should have a new marketing name: Bull Fucking Shit.

By definition, corporations don't have any sense of social responsibility. Anything they do is for profit or for the bottom line. Why, a company is not an individual with a moral compass. It's a collectively profit-oriented entity composed of business people who employ workers. In fact, Adam Smith, the grandfather of capitalism himself, killed the idea of Corporate Social Responsibility centuries ago by stating that it is self interest that motivates people to work; that good arises out of selfishness by virtue of the invisible hand, which ordains that more social benefit will come out of it than loss.

Of course, today, it's all about dressing it up. The concept of the invisible hand is one of the earliest moral pretences that have been constructed to justify profit-seeking and selfishness in the consciences of people. Another example is the capitalist or conservative ethic: You 'deserve' every penny you earn and don't 'deserve' every penny you don't. In other words, poor people are generally lazy and morally bankrupt people, and that's why they are poor. Evidently, circular logic is sometimes needed to forget the nagging feeling that something isn't right.

And it's actually easy to see what is wrong, if only we'd wrest ourselves from our conditioning. When selling bread, the baker might not be concerned about feeding you, being concerned instead about getting paid. Nonetheless, the baker needs your custom and you need his bread. You exist within a community whose members are interdependent and are thus inevitably working for each other's benefit. Individualism and selfishness are the main reason why there is inequality and poverty. The invisible hand is a myth, and people, by the non-principle of selfishness, go on to create systems that seek to maximise their respective individual benefits even at a terrible price to others. Is the good of a Warren Buffet greater than the good of a hundred people without adequate health care? Is the good of one American or European greater than the good of a hundred Africans?

Therefore, all the moralising hides a serious moral lapse that was born when our imaginations took a leap of faith away from the reality of interdependence.

Speaking of morality, we can probably agree that lying is generally immoral. But is the alternative then to be honest?

Sometimes people have candid moments that betray their true interests, especially when pressed. At a recent conference, a business representative warned that more regulations against corruption would force companies to maintain profits by engaging in more corruption. In a letter to the newspaper, the Singapore National Employers Federation (ST, Sept 30) resisted calls to implement fair employment practices for women, particularly pregnant women, citing the need to maintain profits. These are moments of honesty where we can clearly see that companies are not interested in society insofar as it is not profitable to be.

Does their honesty make it better? The Singapore government argues that it is better than corrupt governments in the region because it is open about paying senior politicians astronomical salaries based on salary estimates of (overvalued) private sector executives, rather than letting them engage in backroom deals. Is it right in saying so?

I contend that being honest about it is no better. Exploitation is exploitation. Injustice is injustice. Dressing them up does not change the fundamental wrongs. The only better way is to say good things and act accordingly.

That said, on a personal level, I do appreciate people who do not mince their words. It is much less tiring to deal with even outright meanness than having to guess what people's true intentions are.

Unfortunately, if we do not engage with hypocrites, some of whom might be living around us, how many people and parties do we have left to deal with? Would we be able to do anything?

Looks like we all have to be willing accomplices in this nauseating game. Personally, I have to reserve my contempt to those who have proven themselves to be completely untrustworthy. Sometimes, or perhaps most of the time, there is no choice but to single out only the worst offenders.

Sometimes, it's hard to be optimistic about this world.



I think George Orwell has covered the general reasons very well. But there are specifics that I could get into when I speak for myself. And in light of a few recent conversations and my own reflections, I think it's good to write them down now. For my future self, if nothing else.

There's actually a dualism here. One aspect is why I write how I write, and the other is why I write at all. Even though the latter precedes the former, I find it somehow more apt to talk about the former first.

I admit one of the concerns that motivated me to think about this is the prospect of having my character read from my writing. I've said that I'm an optimist – I always come back to what I've written before, if mostly only in the form of personal reflection; I always ask myself if I still think so, because I mean it all. No doubt some things will change, and there's no shame in that. However, to prove the opposite immediately is to become a joke. On that note, how am I a positive person when most of what I write is criticism or negative things? Do I not seem like a mere malcontent, a Dostoevskyite underground man who turns to cyberspace to vent his frustrations like many other ineffectual people?

Firstly, I have a dialectical and critical viewpoint. This is a school that is rooted in Hegelian dialectics, an ultimately positive stance that looks towards an end – the unity with the Absolute. In Marxist terms, it means to hold on to the hope for a better society, rejecting the notion that we should accept the status quo as a given and as the best possible path. Critique is to dispel the myths and wrongheadedness that keep us in our alienated state, preventing us from reaching for that better, more universal state. This is why being negative about the absurd and the unjust is being positive. We reject the bad because we hope for the good.

At the same time, I'm influenced by Schopenhauer's pessimism, by the idea that there can perhaps be no end point; that life is a constant flux, a never ending struggle and a cycle of creation and destruction. It sounds almost Schumpeter, but not at all. It merely informs me that we must be prepared to witness our progress destroyed, to face constant reverses and to keep rebuilding with that hope in our minds. The cycle itself is not live-giving. We are the source of our vitality through our struggles.

Thus, I want to provoke thought. Too many of us have laid it aside, having to contend as we do with the dry and mundane struggles of everyday life. Who can think of the state of society? And what influence can we possible have? The latter is a difficult question, but there is one important truth to realise: Nothing will come of nothing. If there is no beginning, there will never be progress.

This is why I write how I write.

But to speak on a more artistic level, I write in themes, which can be seen from the accompanying pictures. I have already explained the philosophical basis behind my style of writing, but I'm aware that this will not overpower the quick, sharp impressions that one gets from what is seen before the eyes. It's difficult to keep recalling the deeper reasons, and as human beings we give in to the immediate sentiments. Hence, it would be good to remember that judging the author's character from the writing is never an exact science.

I would like to be more precise, though, because I think I have to be committed to what I write. I'm not writing as an artist who is merely seeking to explore certain emotions and themes. Nothing I write is not genuine. However, reading beyond what is conveyed by the text itself cannot yield conclusions with any certainty. If the theme is rebellion, the content is certainly about rebellion, but it is not necessarily about the author being such a typical rebel – and I think this example is apt, since it references my most overt attempt to provoke a rethinking of attitudes.

Hence, lest the immediate negative sentiments simply put people off, I feel that it's time to state the purpose of my writing.

The other aspect of why I write is much more mundane, but crucial nonetheless – why do I write at all?

Although writing may appear to be completely unproductive to the very practically minded, I don't think it is. It's easy to be cynical about the fact that many do the same thing, to little or no effect. However, at the very least, I find it good practice for an activity that I enjoy and may turn into something that has more tangible results in the future.

But more importantly, yes, it allows me to give voice to my feelings, which may in another perspective be called venting. This is the most personal reason of all, one for which people should rightly feel that they don't have to be concerned. I have feelings on many matters, and living in a topsy-turvy world triggers them. It's only healthy to express them rather than bottle them up. I think this is a very legitimate reason to write, for which no one should ever be faulted. 

That is very valid, and it is very personal. But, at the same time, I hope that it is able to coexist with my more public reason for writing, which gives me the impetus to continue putting effort into what I write.

I had considered giving up. As I've mentioned, there are mundane everyday struggles to contend with, which include the concern that I might be misjudged by what I write. Who knows how a potential employer, for example, might read into it? But even as I reflected on my reasons, I found a source of inspiration that helped me to be persistent.

Well, why should we let the new age of the meek smother us?





What do some people ever do? They only criticise – the sort the 'can do' macho types hate. Well, unfortunately, I'm one of those annoying ones. I just can't help but be contrarian.

And this time I'm going say that contrary to the popular saying, mandatory military service or national service does not turn boys into men, at least as far as I can see. It simply keeps boys as boys.




Why is there a need for such a process in the first place? What's wrong with being a boy? Military personnel seem to approach this question from a particular angle when answering – to wean kids off their parents and make them tough and independent people.

So we've established that they want to turn mummy's boy into a military man. Is it, therefore, manly to be in the military? I suspect most military people have never really bothered to ask themselves what exactly makes a man. Or maybe they have, but the answer they come up with is manifestly stupid: If you march around, follow orders and shoot guns, you're manly.

Well, I'm sorry, but brawling is manlier. There's nothing manlier than getting up close and personal when fighting, yes? But try it and you're likely to end up in jail. And which real man wants to listen to someone's stupid orders anyway? But they make it a point to ensure that you obey them. So I guess the authorities don't like real men too much.

But let's cut them some slack here. I'm sure some military people have thought this through and do come up with a much better answer: A man is a man because he's an active and independent decision-maker who is diligent enough in pursuing his goals. Essentially, he doesn't need others to tell him what to do and is capable of putting himself on track to get what he wants.

Now does military training accomplish that?

No need for others to tell him what to do? There's a common phenomenon in the army – collective stupidity. During national service training especially, intelligence is at a premium. Most of those in charge can only shout and threaten to get things (frequently just orders from above or by-the-book stuff) done. Those below them are so afraid of doing the wrong thing that their initiative drops to negligible levels and they frequently lose the use of their common sense. And then there's the chain of command. At best, if you do make your own decision, you'd better damn well be sure that it produces the right results. Otherwise, you can't hide behind the chain when the blame game starts. So in this the training is mostly a failure.

Capable of putting himself on track to get what he wants? Threats are the most significant motivator in the army. Without sufficient initiative in the process, how does anyone claim that he has put himself on track to get a desired result? I'm really not sure how the military method is supposed to teach you the necessary independence and diligence. As much as writing "I will not be late for school" 100 times on the black board teaches you punctuality, I guess. So in this the training is mostly a failure as well.

Since we can determine no part of the training that can clearly turn boys into men, what does national service actually do?

The answer is it seeks to wean boys off parental dependency by substituting it with indoctrination in ways of thinking that are actually very boyish. As I said, real men don't need some guy shouting at them to get things done. Children might, though. And real men don't have to surrender their capacity to think to a system that demands complete obedience.

Nonetheless, if you are obedient to some other authority and you've been conditioned to make your bed through threats and punishments, then maybe you really don't have to be mummy's boy anymore. So I guess it does something.

Still, it doesn't turn boys into men.

But, as some might ask, why am I spending time complaining about this? Well, I do have some decisions to make about what I want to do with my life for the next few years. So I'm off to be a man now, and you 'can do' macho types can save your ire for someone else.

Anyway, I'm sure you have some boots to clean before you fall in as per routine orders.

Wow, I can hardly believe this. Check out what Prime Minister Lee had to say to students:
It is not all about grades, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong told undergraduates at the end of a dialogue on Tuesday. They should also be charged up about other issues and causes, like their counterparts in the United States, India or China, he added.

'If you look at the best students in dynamic societies such as the US, India or China, they are not just bright, they are passionate, idealistic, driven, out to change the world for the better and to make a mark for themselves.'
However, what will make the difference is when Singaporeans live overseas and are exposed to a different environment, he said. 'You see how other people live, and you cope with the different circumstances, and from that we hope you get new tools in your toolbox to solve problems.'
So we're supposed to bring the student scene from overseas here?

Somehow I really doubt they'd like protests and rallies much. A half-hearted attempt at change as usual? I guess so.

But, hey, why not try, right? So let's look at the ways through which we can participate, starting from the running of our daily lives.

I'm just going to focus on one aspect (but lessons for some others can be drawn from it), since a related issue has been around for some time: How to exercise some rights in the face of a private company's monopoly on a public service.

Consumers don't like monopolies for obvious reasons. They are price setters and might severely reduce the consumer surplus and create deadweight loss since they are producing at far below the Pareto Optimum in order to maximise profits. Economic jargon aside, I think all of us can at least intuit that monopolies can get away with doing things like setting much higher prices due to the lack of competitors.

So what happens in the case of a natural monopoly, where the set-up costs or any other barrier to entering the market is so high that there can only be one effective provider of a service? The government should then step in by nationalising the company, subsidising it or setting price controls to safeguard the interests of the public. Which measure is taken might depend on how vital the service is.

Unfortunately, the price isn't the only aspect where the public stands to lose when a vital service is run by a monopoly.

The private sector can get away with many things the public sector can't. Racial discrimination, for example, is not nice, but private companies reserve the right to not serve anyone for any reason. Your influence as a consumer in a free country lies in your ability to take your custom somewhere else. If a company is given to bad practices, they lose business. Simple as that.

This understanding is probably as entrenched in Singapore as in the USA. Some countries favour regulations to restrict bad practices, but Singapore has a 'one of the freest places to do business in' reputation to maintain, right?

But what happens when it's a monopoly? You can't take your custom anywhere else. You can simply not buy the service at all, but you don't really have a choice if it's a vital service. And I'm getting to the issue itself public transport is vital service.

SMRT has seen fit to enforce absurd restrictions on the consumption of food and drink within its vehicles and premises. Fair enough, many people might think. But as I've mentioned before, they've gone to such lengths as to fine someone for having a sweet in her mouth.

I've personally been told that even drinking plain water is not allowed. So they're saying that if someone feels dehydrated, she is not allowed to hydrate herself with good ol' H2O on their property? Even if the water spills, how much trouble would it be to clean up a small puddle of water, if needs cleaning up at all? Can you imagine telling your guest that he is not allowed to drink even plain water in your house?

Here's a tip: There are rules, and there is crazy enforcement.

Some things just aren't worth enforcing to such an extent if you don't want to be a major jackass. The government seems to know this sometimes, as shown by its present stance on 377A. SMRT doesn't.

Maybe it's not that big a deal, but its attitude constitutes giving bad service, especially since they can charge you a significant amount of money for a trivial thing. Money-making scheme much?

And despite public criticism, it has persisted with the practice. This is good evidence that it knows it's in a position to not have to back down on things, unless the government intervenes, which it probably won't do because again Singapore needs to promote business freedom.

And SMRT can do this because it's a monopoly facing an inelastic demand curve as a vital service provider. You still have to take its trains even if you don't like its policies.

I really dislike the idea of bending over for such companies. Many people don't either. So this is how you can exercise some rights: Flout the rule.

Oh, no, but that's bad or illegal!

But in what other way can we resist? When Rosa Parks flouted the rules, was she wrong?

This is the concept of civil disobedience when you have no say, you refuse to obey.

However, although civil disobedience is meant to be visible as a political statement, I'm not suggesting we make martyrs of ourselves. It's not worth it to have to pay fines for stupid reasons just to make a statement that might not change anything, given the way things work here. Instead, we disobey quietly. Go on with eating and drinking simple things when the staff isn’t watching. It's not that difficult.

We make our actions visible as anonymous individuals acting in concert. They'd probably know that they can't stop people from doing it when they're not looking. Maybe they will let it go. Maybe they will continue and look like idiots. Maybe they will attempt to stop it with more ridiculous measures that would make the issue more manifestly absurd in the eyes of the public and draw increasing and harsher criticism. It's a lose-lose situation for the company.

But maybe the best thing is for their measures to actually be counter-productive. Instead of helping to maintain cleanliness and reduce costs, their anal-retentive policies should actually make their property dirtier. It would probably make them rethink their position.

To that effect, let's surreptitiously but intentionally spill stuff like soft drinks and create all sorts of mess when we can. It's time to punk a company that thinks it has free rein.

This is how we resist. This is how we learn not to take it up the ass because we have no say.


Yesterday, I saw a programme on TV where a woman was crying as she told a group of young people about her plight: She could barely make ends meet and at least one of her kids had to drop out of technical school because she couldn't afford the fees. She couldn't even afford the fares for public transport.

The first question that came to my mind was why is this even on TV? To advertise the fact our society doesn't take care of its less fortunate members very well? Do people watch shows like this to cry a tear and then move on with their lives after a needed catharsis? Is this the reality TV version of Aristotelian tragedy?

Then it occurred to me that, if the programme does show that the system leaves something to be desired when it comes to ensuring the welfare of low-income groups, maybe the point is to encourage the public to help by giving to charity. Yes, our system has left these people behind, so please help them.

And that is more evidence that, in some ways, we might well have failed to evolve much from our Crown Colony days.

Recently, I believe, someone famous wrote in the newspaper extolling the virtues of hard work and practically asserting that poor people have the responsibility to pull themselves up by the bootstraps. That could've come straight out of Nashville Times in all its redneck glory.

We've come so far only to think that laughable stuff like that passes for clever social commentary? But perhaps we've come to where we are precisely because we think so, driven by the need to prove something – to prove that we're better than others.

We're so motivated by the need to win, or to not lose, that such a mindset is a distinctive characteristic of us as a people. It may seem funny, but it has a sinister side – we don't care enough about those who lost.

But I think life isn't all about winners and losers. Even businesses nowadays are focusing less on competition in the workplace and more on moving together as a team. Why should a republic not have that approach? Is our idea of moving together hand-in-hand to wave flags and sing patriotic songs together? Screw that. Where's the real solidarity?

And solidarity with people on the lower rungs is shown first and foremost through social policy, not through charity. Charities did not lift poor workhouse children out of their miserable poverty. Legislation and social programs did. If there's any real determination to pull people up, it would be done on a public capacity, where it is most effective.

But, wait, doesn't the government have policies to help poor people? Heck, it makes sure we hear about those all the time.

Without having to get into a detailed discussion on policy, we can ask a very simple question: Why could that woman not afford to send her child to school?

Isn't it well known, even here, that education is a key factor in social mobility? Why are there cases where people cannot afford it? Especially when it's technical school, not university. Technical school is where people are trained specifically to work for a living. Surely there's no excuse? We can afford to lose $40 billion on stupidly managed investments, we can afford to provide free education to people who would otherwise not have it.

And simply giving handouts, as the government sometimes does (especially if elections are looming), doesn't do much. This is where people who are supposedly for a more equal society often damage their own cause. In fact, here, that could be a symptom of our terrible mindset – people who ask for handouts might often be more interested in tangible short-term gains. They want to get something, but they want it immediately in cold hard cash. That's not how the bigger problems are solved. 

We can hear it from Prof. Eugene Tan of SMU again:

All too often, the larger and more important messages intended by the various budgetary measures are drowned out by the noise of Singaporeans calculating and comparing their budgetary "gains" or "losses".

This "what's-in-it-for-me" mindset may unwittingly lull Singaporeans into sacrificing long-term benefits for short-term gains. 
Instead, a stronger social safety net may encourage Singaporeans to be less risk-adverse and to manage the pluses and minuses of globalisation. More may be willing to take entrepreneurial risks if they can count on a social safety net. The Budget must be seen as more than just a spreadsheet of the state's revenue and expenditures in the new financial year, with goodies thrown in for good measure.

It plays a critical role in keeping our social compact resilient and preparing society not just for tomorrow, but for many tomorrows.
Word.

And, after all, do we really want to live in a country resembling England during the Industrial Revolution, where a class of winners leaves the losers in the dust, only throwing the occasional coin to the latter 'out of the goodness of their hearts'?

Sadly, we might not even realise how close we might be to such a picture. It all looks very nice on the outside. We've also turned image-consciousness into a skill and covered the mirror with a painting.



I guess.

You've probably heard that statement many times by now. And if you're reading this, you're probably past the age when my words are going to do much, if you need them at all. Still, I find it good to reflect.

"Just be yourself" is the mantra that self-help gurus go by. I agree. But that is in the sense that I think one should be as frank as possible, if not entirely sincere.

On the other hand, just being themselves doesn't quite turn out as well as many people wish. Do you know what the problem is?

They aren't prepared to live with the consequences of just being themselves.

Some people think that by just being themselves, friends would naturally come. Yes, the friends you do have would likely be real friends. But that's a truism: If you remain a certain way, the friends you'd have would be those who don't mind you for who you are. And there might be just two or three of them. Nobody said anything about how rich your social life would be.

Of course, I have to be fair to self-help guides – they do generally give tips on how to make oneself more endearing. But that single message seems to be what gets digested and thrown about the most. Well, on its own, I don't think it's all that meaningful. There's a reason why they are called "self-help". Just being whatever you start off with isn't going to help your lonely self win hearts and minds. You have to help yourself, and change.

That doesn't mean be someone you're not, though. When you change, you shouldn't just change superficially. Change your mindset. Change fundamentally, maybe philosophically. Be yourself, but be a different self.

Just being yourself is also often understood to be good because everyone is unique anyway. You are special, so who cares what people think? Whatever floats your boat. Being your own individual is the right way to go.

Well, is it? I think so, but to say only that is a big oversimplification. The truth is you ain't cool just because you are yourself. If you want to have a good number of friends, you'd better align at least some of your interests and your habits such that you do get friends. Again, the problem is in what constitutes "floating your boat". Does having just a few friends who share your interest in tetherball, and who are almost exactly like you, float your boat?

"You're special" might be intended to help someone build self esteem. But if they had self esteem issues in the first place, I doubt it's going to help. Besides, confidence and self esteem are built by results as well. If you have many friends whom you genuinely enjoy interacting with, you'd feel better about yourself than if you don't. If, on the other hand, being your old self hasn't really produced results, then throw all those feel-good statements out. They are a lot worse to depend on than propofol.

And you know what doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results constitutes, right?

So, if I were to give some advice to a young kid, I'd say pick the right interests, hobbies and mannerisms. Think about being an individual after that.

If you've been following world news, you must have learned about the 'controversy' surrounding Barack Obama's citizenship. Simply put, some people contend that he's Kenyan. Fortunately, Obama's official birth certificate has been produced and verified. Unfortunately, some of these people are demanding to see the original long-form certificate, which may or may not exist today, and that he produce various other records that he is not obliged to produce. Worse, someone found his purported Kenyan birth certificate.

If your memory of American politics extends further back to the presidential elections, you'd remember that Obama was also accused of being an Arab and of being a "Muslin".

So who or what is Obama, really? Let's settle this issue for ourselves by looking at his real ultimate birth certificate:


Convinced?

This is America, the famous "melting pot" of the world. And the issue of the president's identity causes such an unnecessary stir, despite proofs that he is indeed American. Perhaps he's not American enough, unless he's white?

Someone asked me a few days ago if I feel a greater identification with my country when I'm overseas. Yes, I do. It's the only thing that identifies me when people ask me where I'm from. Yeah, I wasn't born here and I spent 10 years growing up in another country. I got my citizenship only when I was 21. And, yes, it seems that I have plenty of complaints about Singapore. Heck, I might even want to live elsewhere.

But this is my country. Is there any use in pretending otherwise?

So what exactly is national identity, as many people are looking out for? How do you measure 'Britishness' or 'Frenchness? This seems to be a very relevant question in Europe, where various groups of immigrants have real problems integrating; or perhaps it is the various societies that have problems accommodating the immigrants.

Perhaps the question is, in an age of globalisation, do nation states still hold the same level of significance as before? I wrote some time ago that patriotism should be about solidarity with your countrymen and not about loyalty to the state. But why stop at your countrymen? Is it because of a shared history? Surely things that happened in the country before you were born don't affect your identity directly. Rather, their legacy forms part of the country's culture. Is it then a question of cultural identity?

This is where globalisation complicates things, and where size also matters. The world is both too small and too big. Today, we readily absorb elements of other cultures that the media exposes us to. At the same time, the particularities of the sub-national regions that we come from continue to differentiate us from fellow citizens from another region. Can we pin down what makes us identify ourselves as citizens of a country?

Does essence precede existence? Are people from a country because they share a common identity, or do people share a common identity because they are from a country?

Is it possible for a Singaporean to not be Singaporean enough?

I think many people's gut instincts would be to say "yes". Otherwise, why do they regularly try to whip up some sort of esprit de corps, or why do they disapprove of those who don't have it? Labels like "unpatriotic" and even "ungrateful" testify to some sort of assumption that you have to qualify yourself as a true citizen.

And why do people regularly assume that to be Singaporean you have to be of a similar mind in some things? Do practices, perhaps, confer identity?

What I know is that it suffices that I am from this country. When people ask me where I'm from, I tell them. No embellishments are necessary, and I don't feel obligated to paint my country in a good light. I am Singaporean because I live or lived in Singapore for a good part of my life and I carry a Singapore passport. Is that not enough?

Before the idea of the nation state was born, people were parochial. They identified themselves with the little regions that they lived in. The peculiar practices of a region might have differentiated its people from those who were from another region, but I doubt a lot of them thought much about how they must cultivate regional identities. People belonged to a region simply because they lived there. In these times, I think we should be moving back towards such a picture.

But perhaps we still can't let go of the early 20th century.