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Showing posts with label identity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label identity. Show all posts

Singapore: Missing the Forest for the Fees

Posted by moses @ 00:04 • , , , , • 0 comments


This post is a social commentary I wrote as the editor of sociopolitical site Inconvenient Questions.

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There is an inherent tension between preservation and development. Has Singapore leaned too much towards development in its quest for economic progress? Could this tendency have eroded Singaporeans’ sense of connection to their country?

A controversy over building the Cross Island MRT Line through part of Singapore’s Central Catchment Nature Reserve flared up recently. The government has promised to consult the public and conduct careful studies before arriving at a decision, but some are not convinced that it is willing to compromise on cost.

Yet others are asking why nature lovers are so up-in-arms about this issue. Should they not be supportive of the government’s balanced approach? Are they just being irrational treehuggers?

Facts and practical arguments aside, and indeed those are not yet settled at this point, I can understand the groundswell of anger at the prospect of damaging the nature reserve. The feeling of loss is something that Singaporeans have often experienced with regard to their surroundings, and it may not get any easier each time.

As a Singaporean, one of the strategies for coping with life in Singapore is not to get too attached to your surroundings. You may love that spot, that structure, that area or that forest; the next thing you know, they might have been altered permanently or even removed.

The reasons for this can be both public and private. Spiralling rental costs have eliminated some of our favourite haunts—places like Borders bookstore at Wheelock Place, for example. Property developers keen to ensure ever-increasing rents have also gone to great lengths to ‘upgrade’ and change familiar surroundings.

In other instances, the inexorable march of public machinery—literally and figuratively— have ripped the living proof of our memories out of existence, such as in the case of the old National Library building. If part of the Central Catchment Nature Reserve will ultimately be damaged by the construction of a new MRT line, who should really be surprised at that outcome?



 A casualty of the ever-forward march of progress: The old National Library building. (Photo: Timothy)

Sometimes we may wonder whether all this is necessary or unavoidable. Certainly, the
authorities would be inclined to say “Yes”: We cannot afford to stay still, and the desire for
preservation has to be balanced with the need for development.

But if almost no place and no sliver of sentimental attachment is sacred, if we must always
be prepared to sacrifice these things at the altar of economic progress, then who can blame
people for feeling little connection to the country they live in?

Could we seek solace in artistic forms of expression? Has much of that not also been
meticulously pruned away to satisfy both a pragmatic worldview and a narrow vision of an
orderly society? So where else can we anchor our desire for meaning in being Singaporean
that goes beyond just our location and our passports?

For many of us, the answer would be family and friends—we want to live in Singapore
because they are here. But people are more mobile than ever, and communications
technology is getting better by the day. Not being here or not having a Singapore passport
does not necessarily mean losing touch with family and friends.

We may need the time and opportunity to be attached to our surroundings in order to better
appreciate what it means to live here and to be ‘locals’. Top-down feel good campaigns or
spontaneous exhortations to shout “Majulah!” can feel empty and forced. As important, if
not more important, to our sense of identity as a people are natural outgrowths of sentiment
stemming from the places, customs and languages that we live with—things that have all
been affected by at least one official campaign or another.

As things stand, the relationship for many is merely a marriage of convenience—if we really
question ourselves, how many of us are here only because the country is safe and
prosperous? What happens when there is a better prospect out there?

It is not that we can always choose to preserve everything, or that some trade-off between
identity and growth is not necessary. However, we must recognise our national ideology for
what it is; and hard pragmatism does not come without a cost. When we wonder why, as
some people do, potentially more than 50% of Singaporeans want to leave or why many
would not die for the country, we should acknowledge that the lack of personal connection
may be a price our nation pays for taking this path.

 Top image created by Liyana Yeo; photo of MacRitchie Reservoir by RickDeye.

Immigration and the Singapore Identity

Posted by moses @ 20:15 • , , , • 0 comments


This post is a political commentary I wrote as the editor of sociopolitical site Inconvenient Questions. It also appeared on Yahoo News.

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The furore following Member of Parliament Denise Phua’s statement describing congregations of foreign workers as “walking time-bombs” reflects Singapore’s ambivalence towards the presence of foreigners. Representing her constituency of Jalan Besar, Ms Phua had proposed fencing off communal areas to keep foreign workers out, no doubt in response to concerns from local citizens. While our society needs the services of foreign workers, many Singaporeans are uneasy about the impact of their influx on matters ranging from safety to the condition of local culture.

So where do we go from here? To start with, perhaps it would be useful look at the example of the most well-known immigrant society of all – The United States of America.

A hundred years ago, immigrants first arriving at New York City would have disembarked in full view of the Statue of Liberty, a monument that Franklin D. Roosevelt honoured in 1936 as an icon of immigration. Today, 80 years later, aspiring American presidential candidate Donald Trump is able to capitalise on a groundswell of discontent with immigration for his campaign.

How did a nation of immigrants and the richest country in the world end up with this much disdain for something that lies at the foundation of its society?

The truth is (new) immigration has always been an issue among the American public. Recent immigrants have often been looked at as a threat to American values. If this sounds familiar to us in Singapore, that would be because the theme of cultural difference is universal. And, just as ironically, we too are a nation built on immigration.

By now, multiracialism and multiculturalism are no longer radical ideas. Yet many modern societies are struggling with the question of immigration, a perennial issue punctuated by shocks such as terrorism and the influx of refugees. In Singapore, where a nation of millions must live together in a tight space, this question is perhaps even more salient. Can our society handle large numbers of immigrants?

With the non-resident population making up slightly more than a quarter of the total population, Singaporeans are naturally concerned about the competition for jobs, the erosion of national identity and overcrowding. As the arrest of 27 Bangladeshi workers under the ISA reminds us, there are also concerns about security and the threat of radicalised groups or criminals finding their way into the country.

Most of these problems could be seen as matters of governance, things that can perhaps be left to experts and officials. However, something that our penchant for hard-headed policymaking and planning alone cannot resolve is the issue of Singapore’s culture and identity. We need to decide as a society what our culture and identity will look like in the coming decades, and this is a process that has no correct answers.


Foreign workers enjoying their break in Little India. (Photo: Nicky Loh)

There are three distinct paths that we can go down. One is the American ‘melting pot’ model of conflict and natural assimilation: There is little or no government intervention and immigrants are left to form self-reliant enclaves. Historically, these groups were often hostile to each other and to the ‘locals’, even spawning violent gangs that featured notorious characters such as Al Capone. Only after generations did these groups eventually assimilate into American society, becoming part of the tapestry of American culture with contributions such as Italian American cuisine and common Yiddish loanwords like ‘chutzpah’.

This path is the least likely to be deliberately chosen in Singapore due to our size and perceived vulnerability to any social instability or disharmony that might result.

The second way is to define what Singaporean culture and identity are and use them as benchmarks for ‘Singaporeanness’ in assimilating immigrants. This could be done by returning to classic or mythologised ideas of what it means to be Singaporean or by synthesising those ideas today. There is a tendency for members of the public to engage in this when they treat qualities such as the ability to speak Singlish correctly as identity markers and yardsticks for ‘Singaporeanness’. Similarly, when Member of Parliament Darryl David proposed that English proficiency should be a criterion for citizenship, he was essentially advocating the same path.

While it might be the most intuitive method for many Singaporeans, this path is also likely to be exclusionary as it sets a high bar for assimilation for immigrants, many of whom come from cultures that are very different from ours. If integration is a goal, this method might even make the process more difficult.

The third path is to include immigrants’ culture as part of a new and evolving Singaporean identity. This would entail fusing elements of the different cultures with local Singapore culture to create an inclusive model. For example, local languages and Singlish could expand to include Mainland Chinese, Filipino or Bangladeshi words, while food from the different immigrant communities could be included as staples of local cuisine.

From the perspective of integration, this would be the easiest path as it allows immigrants to retain their identity to some extent and feel a sense of familiarity towards local culture. However, in practice, it would likely encounter difficulties arising from resentment among local Singaporeans, many of whom might feel that the local culture is being watered down.

In the end, the likelihood is no matter how we go about trying to resolve the question of our culture and identity, our approach will end up being an amalgamation of these three paths. Nonetheless, one of them will likely be the dominant path, and that will determine much of what our sense of community and social fabric will be like in the decades to come.

We the Citizens

Posted by moses @ 18:16 • , , , , , , , • 0 comments


Doing some research on the public discourse surrounding last year's racist tram incident in the UK, I was prompted to ponder the rise of xenophobic sentiments in Singapore. 

As held in diaspora studies, there is no such thing as a mythical, unchanging homeland. A people's conception of their homeland is formed through experience: What you grow up knowing as your home will be the home that you know. That may seem obvious and tautological; yet people persist in perceiving their homeland as a thing unchanging, when, in reality, their conception of the homeland is simply that which they have learned.

As such, if you're used to the idea of a homogeneous or monocultural homeland, that is how you would conceive of your homeland; that is the image in which you might want to remake your country.

At the very least, Singaporeans are accustomed to the idea of multi-racialism. It has been drilled into us since we were young. Those with a libertarian bent may deride such education as plain indoctrination, but, in truth, it is hardly alien to the process of socialisation that every normal member of society goes through as he/she grows up. And it works. Of course, racism still exists, but there is no popular challenge to idea of Singapore as a multi-racial society.

Yet it has not saved Singapore from the tensions and culture shock associated with immigration, as immigrants from 'alien' cultures have become numerous enough to have a perceived impact on the local way of life. 

Further fuelling the tensions is the political situation, the official support for mass immigration, which sets up a bitter conflict between the authorities and citizens who feel that their grievances are being ignored. While I believe that an open immigration policy is, as typically held by liberal political philosophy, morally right, Singapore's immigration policy is firmly rooted in neoliberalism. In line with the country's ideology of 'pragmatism', immigration is to be supported on the basis of its necessity for economic growth. 

This ideology reduces not only immigrants into economic units, it does the same to the locals, who must embrace cutthroat competition. Wages are driven down and the economic worth of immigrants, especially that of the wealthy among them, is emphasised. The latter is clearly demonstrated by the Chinese evening daily's headline on the recent accident involving a reckless Ferrari driver from China. While hardly relevant to the tragic incident, the newspaper opted to announce the wealth and prestige of the driver first, perhaps to pre-empt local anger, ever-simmering as it was, towards Chinese immigrants. 

What the headline ends up doing is intensifying the existing social tensions, as locals once again feel that they are being treated as mere economic units whose worth is incessantly being compared to the immigrants'. And the fact that local media is tightly controlled by the authorities lends whatever the former prints an air of official legitimacy—it certainly means the authorities cannot conveniently push the blame away. 

Thus, the knee-jerk xenophobia among the public, while deplorable, should be understood as a by-product of the neoliberal race to the bottom, which has exacerbated social inequality in the name of economic growth. And as long as growth takes precedence over social justice and a fair distribution of rights and responsibilities, the government will continue to give ammunition to the xenophobes; which is a pity, since an open immigration policy could work without driving down local living standards and causing so much resentment, if only the government would speak the right language of multiculturalism, abandon the neoliberal religion and adopt better labour regulations. 

Is losing yourself good?

Posted by moses @ 18:55 • , , , , • 0 comments


I keep coming back to David Brooks' article on finding a job because I'm quite fascinated by its message. When I first read it last spring, my first reaction was to be indignant. I was still working towards my degree and feeling secure in school. I still had a little confidence that if I did well, it wouldn't be a problem finding a rewarding job that I am passionate about.

Six months after graduating, and having indeed done well in school, I have lost all that confidence as I continue to look for paid and fulfilling work (I have done unpaid work in the meantime, so I'm not just being lazy). I find myself applying to a variety of positions just so that I can pay my own rent and gain any professional experience that will be useful later.

So was Brooks right? Is it a matter of applying yourself to whatever opportunity comes up and not of finding the opportunities you want? In a practical sense, he is certainly right. Do most young job seekers have any other choice in these times?

But, inside, I'm still resistant to his message. There is something I fundamentally disagree with, and it's not just because I'm being naive and idealistic. Yet I could never put my finger on what. Until now.

Imagine a society where a typical adult has prosthetic limbs. It’s normal to have them and they are seen as an important part of what it means to be an adult and a full-fledged member of this society. These prosthetic limbs are advanced enough that they don't hinder people's day-to-day functioning. In fact, they perform better compared to natural limbs, which is originally why people do this. The only price you have to pay is the relatively small cost of the operation and the moderate amount of temporary physical pain associated with the process. To some young people, this procedure might seem a little frightening. They might express their reservations about it and they might even try to negotiate a way out. But the adults who have gone through the procedure pooh-pooh these feelings. It's just part of the process of growing up, they say; you'll get used to it.

But what these adults don't realise is the price paid in terms of the loss of your natural limbs. They have already paid that price, so they can easily forget about it. Only practical concerns enter into their calculations. Young people, however, may be aware of this price. They may like they way they are and don't like the idea of being compelled to cut off parts of themselves as part of a self-augmentation procedure.

This is essentially the problem with Brooks' message. He is arguing not only for the practicality of simply grabbing whatever opportunity comes up, but also that this is quite natural and is, in fact, good for young people because that is how they will find themselves. It doesn't seem to occur to him that who young people are before they enter the working world may hold some value that will be lost in the process.

Thus, capitalist wisdom, as articulated by Brooks, holds that one's self identity cannot be complete without being shaped by one's role in the capitalist relations of production. While it's true that the latter tends to shape one's self identity, such wisdom jumps the gun by normalising this process and not recognising prior identities as being complete and worthy of holding on to. And it glosses over this uncomfortable point by assuming that youth precludes having a strong self identity in the first place, which allows it to posit the process of finding one's career as incontrovertibly and necessarily part of the process of 'growing up' and becoming a fully-formed human being. In other words, it tells young people to just do as the market dictates because who they are before that doesn't really matter anyway.

I dislike this message very much because, inside, I feel that who I am is important in considering what I’m going to do for a living. Even if I am presently just an inexperienced young person, I like who I am and dislike things that try to force me to become someone I am not. And I realise that the process of finding employment often entails the latter.

Besides, this is just the beginning. When I do get one of these positions, I will have to live with it every day. That’s when the person I am will begin to change, and I’m not sure if that will be for the better.

What I learned

Posted by moses @ 08:07 • , , , , , • 0 comments


I have other topics in mind that I want to write about, but right now I'm struck by a sudden desire to recapitulate and summarise what I studied last year. Maybe it is the desire to seize something tangible before my memory of it fades. So here goes. 

The main lesson I derived from the research I did for my dissertation is that any claim that film critics have as arbiters of a non-pluralistic (in both the moral and universal senses of it) notion of good taste is undermined by the idea that taste is a means of social distinction; a means of thinking of oneself as superior or different based on vague but compelling categories of identity with which one identifies. 

This implies that taste is neither objective nor entirely subjective. While critics often try seductively to suggest the former, aesthetic 'laymen' tend to stress the latter. Rather, according to my research, taste should perhaps be described as 'intersubjective'. But, more precisely, it is constituted by hyperreal categories (such as socio-economic class) that often appear to us as objective categories.

In other words, from the perspective of theories of language, taste is an entirely practical concept in human language that has perhaps received far too much theoretical attention. It is very much rooted in our social structures and psychology and does not properly belong in the domain of the aesthetic.

I understand that aestheticians may want to think of (good) taste as the practical implication of what is good or beautiful in aesthetics. But I think that's just not the case in contemporary reality. Taste has much less to do with aesthetics than with social categories.

And as articulations of the social structures that give rise to this social phenomenon, the pieces of film criticism I examined do not even use the language of aesthetics, contradictory or hypocritical as it might often be. Tellingly, the critics do not seem to care to exhibit a grasp of aesthetics before presenting themselves as an authority on film tastes.

Simplicity/sophistication

Posted by moses @ 21:50 • , , , , , • 0 comments


What is the simple life? Traditionally, it is understood as a thrifty life lived without pretensions. But what exactly does that entail? Are you thrifty as long as you don't buy yachts or mansions or don't live a jet setting lifestyle? Can you be free of pretensions even when you chase the latest trends and fashions?

Of course, the simple life, in the traditional sense of it, still exists. But in the developed part of the modern world, it is increasingly rare. In everyday life, the urge to consume—to spend and to be wealthy enough to spend—is overwhelming. Through constant exposure to various media whose function is to encourage consumption, we have been conditioned to desire and even need extensive material comforts.

Consumption is also about status and a social-psychological need to earn one's place in modern society. Simply being able to consume and being 'sophisticated' enough to know how to consume confers upon us identities that are compatible with the self image of modern society. And what falls outside of the latter is at best unconventional.

Thus, society exerts a pressure on individuals to conform to a consumerist lifestyle, and this pressure increases as more and more people embrace that way of life. Mass exerts its own gravity; popularity may well correlate with conformity.

One result of this trend is the engendering of a pervasive inertia among the expanding middle class—we have become much more productive over the past century, but most of our time and energy goes into the furious cycle of production and consumption, leaving us perpetually exhausted and, in our spare time, desiring only to enjoy the material comforts that our labours have bought. So despite the great degree of empowerment that human beings have enjoyed over the past century, most of us remain content to let the world take shape around us, to let the powerful and influential push society in whatever direction they desire.

Hence, while the simple life would help bring us out of the passivity induced by the consumerist lifestyle, the simple life is by no means simple to live. And so we drift.

Don't give up on English to oppose it

Posted by moses @ 11:08 • , , , • 0 comments



Illustration by Don Daily

As a debate plays out this weekend regarding the use of Singlish, let us recall the fable of the Fox and the Grapes. It's a story that is familiar to us, in which a fox, unable to reach some grapes, disparages them as sour grapes.

The term 'sour grapes' has come to signify envy, but there is an element of the pathetic in the fable: Unable to obtain something, the fox takes refuge his rejection of that thing.

Those who entertain thoughts of replacing English with Singlish should remember this tale. The idea of replacing English entails doing away with it altogether, and, if they have resistance in mind, that would not constitute a gesture of resistance.

Why is that so?

An act of resistance without a centre or a point to which it is opposed is untenable. While it might seem clear that communicating in Singlish can be conceived of as an act of resistance that is externally directed against the officious imposition of standard English, it would—recalling the fable—be reduced to a desperate cry if it does not arise from an internally-directed conflict.

This argument is motivated by the mirror-image of the maxim that external opposition is inevitably a reflection of internal contradiction—that a deliberate work of art must be internally coherent to project a meaningful opposition externally. The act of speaking Singlish, if it is to be a performance that mimetically mocks or deconstructs official language, must achieve this internal coherence through the act of conscious and deliberate resistance by the speaker, who has the capability to communicate in standard English and yet chooses not to do so. Without this capability and the actor's power to choose to begin with, the act loses its strength.

It seems eminently foolish to oppose centres of power by reducing what power you have to enact gestures of resistance. Even if those who are for replacing English do not intend it as an act of resistance, their position would still be tantamount to advocating the weakening of the power to resist standard English as a symbol of coercive authority. That would certainly impoverish any speak Singlish movement.

The Subject of Pipe Dreams

Posted by moses @ 18:38 • , , , , , • 0 comments


Postmodern approaches to social theory emphasise multiplicity and de-centring, and these themes find their natural articulation in cultural analyses. Such analyses focus on the richness of cultural interaction and the reproduction of identities in non-linear ways, and where they concern themselves with politics and social organisation, they seek to realise this vision of cosmopolitan society—a society consisting of empowered and complex Subjects. Some theorists have even gone so far as to announce that we live in the age of the Subject.

Is this true? The last claim is especially dubious; our everyday experiences are enough to cast serious doubt on it. There are structural and physical limitations that ensure that Subject-Object relations continue to exist in force and often dominate the social terrain. Thus, trying to establish the existence or even plausibility of pure Subject-Subject relations in mass society amounts, at least under present conditions, to an exercise in wishful thinking.

Such limitations can be observed most clearly in political processes. Indeed, politics may be said to define these limitations insofar as it is considered as the necessary framework of social organisation. Politics, therefore, exercises a restrictive rule on the freedom and the pure reciprocity that would give rise to a society consisting only of relations between empowered Subjects.

The agents that enforce this rule are institutions. Institutions impose their decisions on Subjects in non-negotiable ways, and this happens every day in processes of governance. Democracy and dialogue fade away when individuals are faced with institutional decisions made under the guise of systemic necessity. Dreamers might continue to insist on the democratic possibility of changing such outcomes, but as Marx said, "Between equal rights force decides."

The will of individuals as Subjects and systemic concerns (as they are treated by institutions) are thereby locked in a Hegelian moral opposition—the dialectic is a forceful one. Even Subjects with dialogic aspirations for society need to be able to resort to confrontation in order to assert themselves in reforming or recreating institutions to carry out the vision of a cosmopolitan society.

It is no wonder, then, that non-violence and compliance are attributes that are often considered highly desirable, if not the most desirable, in liberal democracies—institutions may depend upon them to survive when there is potential conflict with the will of the demos, the collective body of Subjects.

Hence, democracy as an ideal exists only in its immutable form in a theoretical revolutionary moment, when the will of the demos is able to assert itself without institutional restriction. Echoing the structuralist critique of the metaphysics of presence, the ideal of democracy is not actually present in everyday procedures of governance and planning. There is typically only the reality of individuals acting as economic units under systems that often vaguely recognise their status as free and equal beings.

What about dialogue? Is there more that can be said about it? Indeed, the critique of dialogical interaction can be expanded from an institutional focus to the relations between Subjects within the demos or the public sphere itself. Some of these relations are no doubt power relations, but the existence of Subject-Object relations can be established beyond the influence of power and as the product of necessity as well. Once we move from small-scale interpersonal relations to mass society, it becomes difficult to avoid the constitution of Subject-Object relations. Mass communication is inherently objectifying because it is depersonalised—in addressing a mass of individuals, Subjects communicate without the ability to recognise particular and distinct Subjects as the recipients of their messages. As such, they must necessarily generalise about and even essentialise their audience, moulding the latter's image according to their messages. While dialogue is possible, it is nevertheless unable create a public sphere consisting of Subject-Subject relations as long as the whole of the mass is considered. The conversation will not be able to take into account every individual in his/her full complexity as a Subject; nor will it empower every Subject by allowing his/her unique voice to be heard fully.

So where does this leave postmodern approaches that try to construct a rhizomatic web of non-essentialising relations between Subjects? The pessimistic answer is "Nowhere"—there will always be Subject-Object relations and they will continue to have great relevance in social organisation. However, to give a more optimistic assessment, postmodernists may take a cue from modernist approaches and seek to address the actual existence of centres, instead of pretending that the Subject has got the better of them. Otherwise, like the proverbial ostrich, they can only make themselves more vulnerable to objectifying processes.

Home

Posted by moses @ 12:46 • , , • 0 comments


I think this is a problem that people in such a small country like Singapore don't often appreciate.

When you move to a new place, you don't know anyone and you have to build your life anew. In a large country where there actually are different towns and cities, that is, where moving would count for something. But that's fine—you just have to work on it. The trouble is if it's temporary. Then it's simply going to get torn down again. And when you get back (if you do go back), you don't know anyone anymore either.

The problem can be set up and compounded by two things: The fact that you are moving to a different country with a different culture, and the fact that your original country is a deeply impersonal place. That way, you'd be a stranger everywhere.

But we don't have to complicate things that way. We can say something about the uprooting itself. When you uproot yourself, you set before you the task of building a new life. A new network, a new schedule, new habits, a new lifestyle (to a certain extent). But the normal assumption is that this is a task of some permanence. You rebuild. You don't normally rebuild to tear down again.

So I'm in a rare enough position.

But for me there is yet another dimension to this: Leaving my hometown (which isn't where I originated), I felt that I had begun to build a life of my own, and it was good. Losing that has an impact.

Maybe I'm just sensitive. Maybe this also has to do with the fact that I left my hometown having lost almost all connection with the people around me.

Nevertheless, I think one thing is true: They say you must know your roots, but the truth is you mostly need to grow them. Where you are, that's where you need to plant. There is no home where you don't have much to hold on to.

And that will never make it into one of the National Day anthems.

Flagpins and apple pie

Posted by moses @ 13:31 • , , , , , , • 0 comments


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.