Padd Solutions

Converted by Falcon Hive

Why we are a passive-aggressive society

Posted by moses @ 20:10 • , , • 0 comments


I'm not the only one amongst the people I know to have opined that Singaporeans are easily offended. I'm also not the only one to have been on the receiving end of their knife-in-the-dark kind of wrath. Nor am I the only person to have been frustrated trying to work something out with them, whether it's a project or just a get-together, and failing due to their lack of commitment, only to have them play victim in the aftermath. At the same time, we quite frequently observe farcical outbursts and quarrels amongst strangers in the street.

All this seems to be a curious mixture. Actually, this bubbling cauldron may be a regular feature amongst urban populations living in high-stress environments. But I think there's a special dimension to this amongst Singaporeans, so let me offer a uniquely Singaporean analysis of how I think this condition comes to be.

I think by now you're not a stranger to the fact that Singapore is an authoritarian society. Dissent faces disapproval at best and sometimes even open persecution. Certainly, it's not very difficult to be obfuscatory about this in legal language. But, when it comes down to it, Singaporeans who care to defend the system would defend it on the basis that that's how things are done over there and that it works.

But we're not exactly interested in the politics of the country now. I'm going to talk about how that translates into the people's behaviour.

And not only is dissent not politically tolerated, there is a consciousness that, as a multicultural society, speech needs to be regulated. Besides the prevalence of censorship backed by the legal stick (as three guys found out recently), I think the indoctrination is so successful that people actively censor themselves from openly saying things that might provoke conflict.

Added to the mixture is a twist of Asian reserve, engendering a dislike for confrontation. The result is a people who tend to be 'quietly' unhappy. Resolving problems with open, honest communication is frequently eschewed for fear of unpleasant emotional encounters. After all, the latter are not the kind of stuff responsible members of the community should engage in.

Hence, we tend to bottle our feelings up, letting them out only behind the backs of the people with whom we are unhappy. But that's not enough sometimes. With all the pressure we are under, we might really need to let off steam. So we take it out on strangers, people that we don't have to see every day and don't have a personal relationship with—bus drivers, public servants, salespeople and etcetera. Hence the quarrels in the street.

Moreover, in such a competitive and authoritarian environment, where the stick is ready to hit and people are ever ready to take your place should you slip, we hate to be wrong. Out of concern for our own good, we will try to push the blame or at least minimise our culpability. In fact, we often want to seem to be the victims because, otherwise, the responsibility is too heavy to bear. Or we might be confronted by angry people.

And when people dare suggest that we are wrong, we bring our personal indignation to bear—we quickly feel offended.

All these symptoms seem to be the hallmarks of passive-aggressive behaviour. And I think that's what we are, a bunch of passive-aggressives. We are also irresponsible since we loathe the full implications of responsibility.

I firmly believe that politics shape the way we live. So I do wonder if the latter is surprising in light of the fact that we're not given the responsibility of political choice.

Simply put, the government thinks we are children and we let that pass. And so we are.


Challenger's defense

Posted by moses @ 10:13 • , • 0 comments


Without realising it, it's been more than half a year on. I think it's time for a little introspection. I'm actually surprised I haven't done this before, though I remember at least intending to do so. So let's take a look at where this blog has gone, where it stands and what direction it should take in the future.

Looking back at its short history, there have been a few developments. First, there was a short period of uncertainty as to whether it should continue. But I decided that this blog is not so easily found and associated with me such that unfamiliar people can pick out things that they don't like and acquire an immediate prejudice (face it, that's how people tend to operate) against me in real tangible life. So that's history now.

A more interesting development is an evolutionary one—the fact that entries have on average become longer and denser.

That is actually contrary to my initial intentions. I wanted to write short, snappy things, but influence from my studies got the better of me. And I do often wonder if this is for the better.

But, at the end of the day, many things just can't be said in a few short sentences. And, on the flip side, I'm not going to turn this into a perpetual essay-writing exercise either. Essays, though more rigorous, don't tend to get the point across effectively. I'm sure that's reflected in how most of us feel or felt when we read academic papers.

And this where the apologetics begin: I wish to defend the direction that this blog is taking.

I should say that philosophy isn't my forte—political philosophy is more like it—but I do follow broadly in the continental tradition, as opposed to the analytic one. The differences between them are somewhat confusing, but it's possible to make out some trends. Most clearly, analytic philosophy has a greater predisposition towards propositional logic.

That doesn't mean continental philosophy is illogical, though. But it does mean that analytic philosophy seeks to avoid contradictions while continental philosophy, with its dialectical tendencies, finds an important place for them. Provided that they make sense, of course.


Now this implies that continental philosophers tend to write in a more nuanced way in order to be able to capture and convey the contradictions that are present in reality. It certainly means they are unlikely to argue with the same kind of formalistic structure employed by analytic philosophers.

But, having pronounced where I stand, my sympathies are actually a little divided. Nuance to the point of ambiguity may be appropriate in some cases, but I do value clarity. A paper full of propositional logic is hell to read, but so is one filled with ambiguity.

So, in sum, I think the way that I currently write is, perhaps with a little refinement, in the right direction—a non-formalistic and sometimes nuanced way, adopting points of view that are rationally defensible (hence the need for clarity and mass) without attempting to be formally logical.

It also helps that my intention here is not to write papers. At the same time, however, I wish to retain some cautiousness. Quite a lot criticism can probably still be made from a formalist angle, but it also helps that I'm not exactly trying to be right. My intention has always been to provoke thought rather than necessarily convince anyone. I aim to question more than to provide complete answers.

And I think that suits my character rather well.

Faithless faithful

Posted by moses @ 13:48 • , , • 0 comments



The question of religious faith is something very difficult to untangle in a coherent manner. And I address it despite warnings from within and without. One would hope that this question can be addressed without evoking judgemental reactions, but I don't know if that is possible. I think the best thing I can do is to be as non-judgemental as possible on my own part. And so I write this, as I had written my previous entry, with the caveat that this is what I think without claiming that it is necessarily true. But, at the same time, in support of what I'm writing, I'd like to say that it is derived from years of experience interacting with believers (it's also worth mentioning here that my views might be more relevant to Christianity than any other faith, since the vast majority of my experiences are with it), as well as a fair measure of reasoning. In other words, I'm not doing this like Ronny Tan. And now that I've mentioned it, that's a good place to start.

I'm mildly amused by the reactions to the Ronny Tan incident in Singapore. The issue itself, however, is of little interest to me—I know evangelistic rhetoric well enough not to be surprised. The point is I see no reason why we should pay attention to some ignorant or dissembling provocateur. I mean, in a similar way, who cares about what Westboro Baptist Church says next? If these people are vested with authority in state institutional positions, then we can talk about them being irresponsible, as with the case of Thio Li Ann. Otherwise, if we think that something said from a pulpit we don't sit below is complete nonsense, the best thing to do is to ignore it. That doesn't mean it's not important to address mistaken beliefs propagated by such rubbish. That means we ought to focus on the underlying problem, not on the nonsense itself. Hence, all the righteous anger that has emerged in reaction to what was said only seems childish and misguided. It adds nothing valuable whatsoever.

And the underlying problem is what I'm going to be referring to here: The fact that religious faith seems to have become synonymous with opted ignorance.

Recently, I've come across a notion of God that I find very appealing: God is excellence
—and it isn't just referring to moral excellence. This implies that to be faithful followers we must try as best as possible to approximate God's perfect excellence. This is very interesting, but it also raises problems with religious faith and what it means to be faithful as we have encountered them.

Here is where I've been quite consistently disappointed by the religious community. I've met quite a few perfectly decent and intelligent people who say ridiculous things that are patently false simply because their worldview is coloured by their unquestioned beliefs. Even amongst congregations that profess to be intellectually inclined, I'm seldom ever impressed by the actual intellectual capabilities of their members. They may know their apologetics and hermeneutics very well, but they know very little about things outside their religious framework. And a good part of the reason for this is they don't see external knowledge as anything near as valuable as knowledge acquired within the faith. In other words, they are relatively dismissive of a vast amount of existing knowledge, things that could make the positions they have learned untenable (and many of them don't want to know it precisely because they are afraid of this).

I don't mean to say that believers are necessarily ignorant. Certainly, I'm not young enough to know everything either. However, I'm quite willing to learn from anything. And that is what I mean by intellectual capabilities: The unrestricted willingness to learn and the products of that willingness. Even many of the believers who are actively engaged in the pursuit of knowledge are unable to achieve this. Their pursuit of knowledge is frequently channelled by their religious sympathies, directed towards some things that conform to their beliefs and away from others that do not. And this tendency is even couched in moral terms—basically, hear no evil.

Now, I might be accused of having too much faith, ironically, in the ability of human reason to divine the truth. Of course, human minds are not perfect. But this doesn't mean reason flies out of the window. As a scholar during the Enlightenment might say, God gave us a brain, so we should use it. Indeed, even speaking within the religious framework, when people talk glowingly about the "leap of faith", I'm not sure they know what they're talking about. They are often unaware that the concept is not such a central part of established Christian schools of thought. There is plenty of emphasis on reason and rationality, which, I should add, is why people traditionally asked for signs; they wanted evidence, and the desire for evidence to support your beliefs is manifestly rational.

Similarly, when some believers talk about concepts such as "spiritual war", they are unaware that the notion borders on the heretical. And it's bad enough that believers don't know enough about their own theology, there are some groups that have virtually no theological grounding! Thus, the problem of intellectual inexcellence constitutes a vast malady amongst believers—that of a lack of inquisitiveness. They are content to be told what they like to hear and to be told that they like to hear it. And this is supposedly justified by the concept of faith or "simple faith".

One might say that that's true for any system of beliefs. But you could change your political views, for example, and it might not cost you anything. On the other hand, if you're convinced that the matter concerns your immortal soul, the equation changes.

To be fair, I've known a few believers whom I respect greatly. However, these people seem to be rare exceptions, and that is why I'm not sure whether one can be religious and be open-minded at the same time. It's a fine balance, and even the most excellence-oriented believer is quite likely to trip up. After all, if there are two things that might be true and they contradict each other, you'd simply lean towards whichever one your faith dictates.

So, as Kierkegaard was, I am sceptical towards the idea of congregations or indeed of organised religion. If a community of believers is supposed to help you nurture your faith, it certainly hasn't done mine any favours with what I've seen; so what's the point? Unlike Kierkegaard, however, I'm not willing to make the leap of faith. My willingness to learn seems to overcome that.

The veiled truth

Posted by moses @ 21:28 • , , , , , • 0 comments


What I'm going to talk about this time is certainly a controversial topic. And I think must state clearly that this is my opinion. I don't like saying that because I don't like how opinions are commonly regarded (i.e. as either equally right or equally wrong). But as I cannot claim to have a very informed opinion on this matter, it's better to be humble when there's reason to be, isn't it?

Recently, France has moved towards partially banning the burqa in public places. Of course this has provoked both outrage and approval, often across traditional political lines. I'm not exactly going to take a side on this issue, since my own position straddles both sides of the debate somewhat. I think that this is not a good move, especially with how it has been portrayed by its proponents—I'm not a fan of European views on foreign cultures and integration. However, I don't agree with those who say that this is a clear violation of the freedom of conscience as I disagree that the veil is Islamic.

And I say that because I have a generally positive view of Islam, which can be more progressive than Christianity in issues of social justice (as the Christian conservative majority seeks to prove daily). The notion of an Islamic veil, therefore, sits uncomfortably with me.

Ultimately, the argument boils down to whether hadiths should be seen as binding and what implications this has on one's faith and devotion. In the article, an imam answers the former in the negative, stating there is nothing in the Quran that directs women to cover their faces. And I agree with him. I think that Islam is primarily based on the Quran and that hadiths, as a secondary source on the words and deeds of the Prophet, are a matter of tradition. Thus, I don't think they can be binding, and they should certainly not reflect on the strength of one's faith and devotion.

However, as a more detailed treatment of Islamic doctrine is beyond my ability, I shall offer a logical and ethical argument for this view. There are, I'm sure, many practices based on religious traditions that are uncontroversially disallowed in modern societies. Female genital mutilation is one good example. Of course, not all of them are based on such an old and supposedly weighty set of traditions. But if an ancient and important religious authority did prescribe the practice of female genital mutilation, does that make it more acceptable? (Of course, this question presumes at least some degree of moral realism; I am assuming that we don't think something is right just because people think that it is, or that moral statements merely reflect our emotions)

I also find it disturbing that people are using the notion of freedom to support repressive ideas and practices. Is the veil even really worn for the purposes of modesty today? Cultural norms have changed, and I think the only reason why the veil remains in a lot of places is the patriarchal traditions that some Muslims subscribe to. Besides, if it is about modesty, why do men not wear it as well?

The only good thing that I've heard about it (found here) is that it potentially renders the issue of female looks irrelevant to career prospects in jobs that don't technically require good looks. However, communities that place great importance on it also don't tend to value women's education and work as much as men's. That certainly has implications on the notion that it serves as a gender equaliser.

And as with any other issue, to shout about freedom in arguing for the acceptance of repressive things is inherently contradictory. The logical conclusion of such a view would be akin to the extreme libertarian view, as espoused by Robert Nozick, that someone is free to sell him/herself into slavery. The contradiction in such a line of thinking should be clear, and if we subscribe to the notion of fundamental rights we cannot at the same time think that people can give them up. If that is the case, they wouldn't be 'fundamental'; the argument is thus self-defeating.

Hence, also noting that the ban is after all only partial, I disagree with a lot of the criticisms of this move. But, having said that, I do think that it is misguided in the way it has been conceived and recommended. Even if equality is to be merely paid lip-service, the legislation shouldn't have been expressly aimed at Muslims. Otherwise, it sends a message that xenophobia plays a part in the decision. And if you like to think in slippery slopes, you can imagine what sort of precedent this might set on the issue of integration.

The Importance of Being Destructive

Posted by moses @ 16:51 • , , , • 0 comments


People say there is no such thing as a free lunch. Surprisingly, the very same people who might say something like that often seem to expect it.

Let's not talk about corporate bailouts and taxpayer-funded bonuses. That's too much of a fish in a barrel (though it's a large fish that manages to swim away nonetheless). Let's talk about public action, in the sense that the public takes action to negotiate—diplomatically or otherwise—with the authorities.

I've written some time ago that people must organise themselves to fight for their interests, and that legality is not a necessary moral consideration because of the imperfections of the legal system. The angle I'm going to take here is similar but slightly different. It can be encapsulated by a question: What are the ethics of public action?

And, to go straight to the point, I will ask another question: What is the moral worth of representative democracy if the representatives are not willing to, first and foremost, present the interests of the people they represent but are overwhelmingly concerned about being 'constructive'?

Certainly, there are valid considerations that call into question the idea that you must do exactly as the people you represent wish. What if you think that what they want isn't in their interest or is morally wrong? But the issue is not quite so complex here. The issue is whether the desire to be constructive trumps the proper presentation of a legitimate concern of the public.

Well, unlike in what seem to pass for public campaigns these days, the ethics of public action should not be based primarily on etiquette. Whether you are seen as being polite or positive should not be considered ahead of doing what is necessary to push for the interests of the people you are representing. This isn't business, and the fact that business etiquette has bled into politics is quite alarming.


The issue remains when it's the public itself that is overly concerned about the tone of the negotiations. Essentially, the point is you are either prepared to do some tough bargaining if it proves necessary, or you won't change anything. Being positive is not a trump card and asking for charity is seldom going to work. There's no free lunch, remember?

Or is that an excuse for some things only?

But going deeper than that, being constructive means accepting the framework that is imposed by those in positions of power. And by doing so, you are often being put on the defensive when you should be on the offensive.

To take an example from real life, the fact that students pay (sometimes exorbitant) fees for their education is a fact. Hence, that the executives making decisions for the university feel that they are free to increase those fees while cutting services should not, from every reasonable perspective, simply be accepted. It should be resisted as far as possible by the students. However, by choosing to be strictly 'constructive', a student union that is supposed to fight for their interests has already given up half the fight. By doing so, it is assuming a weaker position and is relying on the goodwill of the executives to grant concessions on a matter where there is a conflict of interest between the students and the university. And how such a body can thereafter retain the claim to represent students is beyond me.

On the contrary, the ethics of public action should demand that the necessary actions be taken to fight for the interests of the public. And if that means having to be less constructive and even destructive, so be it.

However, we must note that being destructive does not necessarily mean being physically destructive. In many cases, physical destruction is unwarranted and morally wrong. Rather, being destructive means the opposite of being constructive, and that is not to accept the imposed framework, rejecting it from the democratic perspective of the people's right to decide their affairs. For what is the moral worth of democracy if the people are merely suppliants bound by codes of conduct, amongst other fetters? Similarly, the ethics of public action must be closely tied to the public itself, the subject and the object of public action.

Now, having rejected the imposed framework, negotiations might come to an impasse. And this is where we return to the subject of tough bargaining. Only when you are able to threaten the prevailing order will you have any basis for negotiations. Only when you are willing to commit fully to your own cause will you get anything. To think otherwise is naive and irresponsible.

There are other reasons for declining rates of political participation in some liberal democracies, but the impotence of the public, its inability to effect the desired changes, certainly plays a part.

After all, if we can only go as far as it's polite to do, then we're only going to be politely declined. So what's the point?

The Prestige

Posted by moses @ 18:28 • , , , • 0 comments


There's plenty to hate about pop culture. I'm sure all that can be said has been said and is being said again, even by the same people who embrace it daily. Also, I personally don't hate pop culture. I'm fascinated by it to some extent. I think the feeling that it should sometimes inspire is not so much hate (contempt, perhaps, when you're faced with its excesses). Rather, I think the occasional feeling towards it should be fear.

Why be afraid? Well, because of its power and its blindness. And while the weight of its mass is blind, it is controllable and is controlled. On one hand, it expresses the fickleness of public opinion. On the other, it reeks of the real possibility of moulding and pushing that ephemeral opinion one way or another. Moreover, this is done under an appealing visage of individuality and 'culture'.

Take the death of Michael Jackson as an example. Just before it happened, he was a joke, a figure receiving of laughter and contempt in the public consciousness. He was hated for being a likely paedophile, reviled for opting to disfigure himself to change his skin colour and labelled as a has-been. That was the kind of image that the media portrayed.

And then he died. Suddenly, he was a star again. He was remembered as the king of pop, not the has-been that he had just been regarded as. His unsavoury lifestyle and habits were forgotten amidst a worldwide phenomenon of mourning. And that is itself phenomenal. People suddenly acted as if he was a hero, as if he was universally loved for his contributions. But what has he done to merit such an image? Can he really be considered a heroic figure?

So what could explain such a turnaround? What else, if not the fact that people buy readily into hype? And hype is just one face of the manipulation of public opinion that pop culture facilitates and disguises. Behind the phenomena, there are people who want you to think this or that at their whim. One day you're allied with Eurasia and at war with Eastasia; tomorrow, you're suddenly allied with Eastasia and at war with Eurasia – and that is accepted with hardly a blink!

Don't you get a shudder when you think of this? But perhaps you wouldn't, simply because such an incredible leverage is not used for overtly sinister purposes. Why, at most these controlling interests ultimately want you consume this or that, right?

But, once again, that is only one face of the whole machinery, a vast apparatus that is also perpetuating all sorts of problems across the world. And that is because it is an amoral force, a force motivated by objects and concepts that are not even actual objects except by the tacit acknowledgement of people who want them to be. It is an inhuman force.

In this instance, however, the force appears very much human. Pop culture is frequently about celebrating individuality, about expressing yourself. It is called culture. Yet it is one that is mass produced, packaged and marketed to as many people as possible. It celebrates the same 'individual' identities that many celebrate, and also that certain people want you to celebrate. It appears as some sort of social consciousness, but it is one that is very much controlled by large profit-oriented private interests. Clearly, it is paradoxical and absurd.

I guess the fear really lies in the thought that this might be both the present and the future, the idea that we could be watching an unending show that sickens us. And that is because society is unable to break free from the mechanisms behind the phenomena. We watch, engrossed for a while, but as soon as we care to look into it, we realise the trick. And with horror we witness how it captures the audience again and again.

Perhaps they want to believe what they are seeing.

Are you watching closely?


Santayana Night

Posted by moses @ 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 significance—perhaps 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 disappointment—as 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 all—you 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.