Top Quotes: “Floating on a Malayan Breeze: Travels in Malaysia and Singapore” — Sudhir Vadaketh

“We would cycle around Malaysia for a month, visiting every state in peninsular Malaysia and meeting random people along the way. We also decided to subsist on RM10 (about US$3) a day each, a limit that would force us to live simply and seek out help and assistance whenever we could. An early working title for this book was On the Benevolence of Malaysians.

We sought advice from friends, family, and professors. A few urged us on. Most said the idea was crazy. And quite a few confirmed what our mums had always told us — that we are, indeed, wayward buffoons.

But we had made up our minds and there was no turning back. And so our journey through Malaya, our real journey through Malaya, began eight years ago.

With two bicycles, a tent and RM600, we spent a month cycling around the whole of peninsular Malaysia. We visited hundreds of towns, met many fascinating people, had countless conversations, and landed in several comedic capers. It was a random, rollicking, rip-roaring exploration through Malaysia and, also, through ourselves —our own emotions, misconceptions and prejudices.”

“Singapore offers cheaper food, haircuts, taxis and shop service than any other rich world city — only because the people at the bottom probably do not earn enough. At the risk of sounding simplistic, Singapore’s poor people should earn more, and Singapore’s rich people should pay them more for their work.

Income inequality, in a sense, should not come as a surprise — many developed countries grapple with the problem. What did strike us, however, was the fact that nobody talked about it much before 2007. While Malaysians warned us about it in 2004 — even as we foolishly brushed them off — there was barely any mention in Singapore.

That speaks to another facet of life here — social, political and economic dialogue in Singapore is extremely shallow and narrow. Given the dominance of the People’s Action Party (PAP), the government’s control over the media; and a natural Singaporean deference to authority, there is precious little debate and discussion over many national issues. This reticence carries over to the workplace, where Singaporean workers, seeking refuge behind their fancy degrees, tend not to speak out much or challenge convention or authority.

In many other democratic countries, the problem of income inequality — or for that matter, any other contemporary challenge — would have been discussed extensively in the media, government and by citizens. In Singapore, it appears as if any topic has to receive an implicit nod from the government, before the public is allowed to discuss it. Once the green light is given, the media fall into line dutifully.

This, of course, has grave implications for Singapore’s economy. Though a manufacturing and service success, Singapore has had trouble building a knowleage economy. No wonder. We Singaporeans are not trained to think or speak out.”

“We are probably the only two Asian countries where the original post-colonial movements still exert considerable influence over politics and broader societal mindsets. Almost every other country has seen some revolution or another — including China’s opening up from 1978 to India’s from 1991 — that has effectively replaced the post-colonial philosophies with newer ones.

Not so here. For better or worse, the post-colonialists’ ideas and fervour still hold great sway over society. Many of the younger politicians are cut from the same cloth. Malaysia’s current prime minister is the son of the country’s second prime minister. Singapore’s current prime minister is the son of the country’s first prime minister.

All that is, no doubt, largely a reflection of how economically and politically successful this generation has been. But it also points to a worrying fact —Malaysia and Singapore have never had to go through that process of broad political renewal and a reimagination of societal norms.”

“Singapore’s early identity crisis can be seen in our national flag, designed in 1959. Singapore is perhaps the only non-Muslim state in the world to have a crescent on its flag, there largely to please our Malay population. The flag is coloured red, and has stars on it, largely to satisfy the Chinese. But the flag’s bottom half is white, and it has five rather than three stars, so as to differentiate it from the Communist Party of Malaya’s flag. It is a flag of compromise.”

“In practice, our countries have always been authoritarian states, One party dominates parliament — the Barisan Nasional coalition (BN, the National Front) in Malaysia, and the Peoples Action Party (PAP) in Singapore. They have both been led by iron-fisted leaders, most notably Mahathir in Malaysia and Lee Kuan Yew in Singapore.

Their dominance is so utterly complete, that Singaporeans and — until the last elections —Malaysians have long equated the ruling party with the country. In other words, if you are loyal to the PAP, you are loyal to Singapore. On the other hand, if you are not loyal to the PAP, that means you are not loyal to Singapore. If you vote opposition, you are somehow being un-Singaporean. Many Singaporeans I meet have this marriage between party-country firmly planted in their minds, hence the fear of voting for the opposition.

Opposition parties have long been crippled by numerous hurdles, for example, a government-owned media that serves as its mouthpiece. What’s more, the combination of a strong, fearsome leader and ruling party, and sustained economic prosperity, has made us wary of change. Most Singaporeans and —until the last elections — Malaysians, worry that if we vote opposition, our economic success will be under threat. And if there’s one thing that scares the daylights out of us, it’s the risk that our nasi, Nikes and Nokias might be taken away.

So, even though we are democratic by name, we are authoritarian by nature. How does this play out? Well, parliament is fiercely dominated by one party. Policy debate is conducted largely by one party. The mainstream media kowtows to one party. The judiciary is frequently accused of favouring one party.”

“Democratic pressures have been building for different reasons. Therefore, it doesn’t really make much sense anymore to describe Malaysia as authoritarian; by March 2008, the impulse for change was so strong there that the ruling Barisan Nasional (BN) coalition suffered its worst ever electoral performance. The opposition took control of five of Malaysias 13 states and won 82 of 222 federal parliamentary seats, denying the government the two-thirds majority it needs in order to change the constitution. When that happened, quite a few Malaysians I know — not just Mun Ching — jumped for joy.

Three years later, in May 2011, disgruntled Singaporeans perhaps took their cue from Malaysians, as close to 40 per cent of the country voted against the ruling People’s Action Party (PAP), handing it its worst ever electoral result. For the first time in Singapore’s history, the opposition won a Group Representation Constituency (GRC), one of the larger polling districts that were once considered unwinnable, due to the PAP’s stranglehold over them. Nevertheless, thanks to Singapore’s first-past-the-post system, the PAP still secured 81 of the 87 elected parliamentary seats, guaranteeing the continuation of single-party rule in Singapore.

Still, just like in Malaysia, many in Singapore celebrate their newfound political voice. The political landscape in both countries has changed dramatically and, probably, irreversibly.

When I started research for this book, during our bicycle trip in 2004, Malaysians and Singaporeans alike appeared relatively content with their respective ruling parties, and were happy to live their lives quietly, under the democratic radar. Since then, a combination of forces — including policy missteps by the ruling parties, the emergence of more credible opposition candidates, and the widening of political space through the Internet — has blown the lid off our hitherto politically apathetic countries. Before, only taxi drivers would be willing to “talk politics” with strangers. Most others were always worried about “who might be listening”. Today, the fear is gone: even civil servants are eager to share their points of view. Malaysia and Singapore are each in the midst of major political transitions, their first since the 1960s.”

“Another major obstacle for opposition parties is the system of Group Representation Constituencies (GRC). In Singapore, for the longest time, ethnicity played no role in politics. That changed in 1988 when the GRC system was intro duced to ensure the representation in Parliament of Members from the Malay, Indian and other minority communities”. The system effectively clobbered together adjacent single-seat districts into one greater multiple-seat GRC. So, instead of fielding one candidate in a small district, parties would have to field a team of candidates, one of whom had to be from a minority group.

The official rationale, then and now, is that with the GRC system, Singapore avoids the possibility of ever electing a purely Chinese parliament. If we want Indian and Malay representation, so the argument goes, then we need GRCs.

“It is make believe to pretend that race does not affect voting patterns,” said Goh Chok Tong, then deputy prime minister. Curiously, at the time it was introduced, there was nary any evidence that Singaporeans had been voting along racial lines.

Consider what had happened seven years before, in 1981, when Joshua Benjamin Jeyaretnam, an Indian lawyer who rapidly became Lee Kuan Yew’s nemesis, won a by-election in Anson, against, lo and behold, a Chinese man. If anything, it appears as though Singaporeans have long chosen purely on merit.

In practice, the GRC system favours the ruling party in two ways. First it is harder for the opposition to contest and win any constituency, as they need to field a team of good candidates, as opposed to just one. In GE 2011, the Workers Party (WP) finally managed to win a GRC, the first ever for any opposition party, only by fielding an all-star team.

Second, the GRC system allows the PAP to blood new young candidates, who may not have the support of many Singaporeans, but who ride into parliament on the coattails of more experienced politicians as part of their GRC team 2011, for instance, many Singaporeans were outraged that Tin Pei Ling, who came across as inexperienced and clumsy in the campaign, manage a seat in parliament as part of Goh Chok Tong’s team. Over time, the GRC system has been expanded to now include more than 85 per cent of Singapore’s electorate. Interestingly therefore, Singapore’s political system started off a pure meritocracy, and was racialised, so to speak, in 1988. On the other hand, Malaysia had race built into politics early on, but many now feel the need to move away from it.

Due to Singapore’s first-past-the-post electoral system and the effects of gerrymandering, in GE 2011 the opposition’s almost two-fifths share of the vote equated to just 6 of the 87 elected parliamentary seats. In other words, 39.86 per cent of the vote translated into only 6.9 per cent of the seats. By comparison, in the UK’s last election, the Liberal Democrats’ 23 per cent of the vote translated into 8.8 per cent of seats.

Aside from the these limits, other challenges that opposition politicians in Singapore face include social exclusion and electoral threats: before every general election, the PAP promises to reward any district that votes for the opposition by delaying public works and estate upgrades in the area.”

“For a traditionally reticent, shy society, social media offered safety in numbers Risk averse Singaporeans drew great comfort from seeing friends reading, sharing and “Like”ing alternative news and viewpoints, and promptly followed suit. Overnight it became acceptable, even hip, to embrace non-establishment opinion. For some older Singaporeans, unversed in tweeting and poking, e-mail forwarding of articles became the norm. In other words, in the lead-up to GE 2011, for the first time in Singapore’s history, minority voices got a decent hearing, thanks largely to the Internet.

All this activity unnerved the PAP. In the previous election in 2006, Internet discourse probably ruffled the PAP’s feathers, but the PAP nonetheless remained in control of the national discussion. Not this time.

Moreover, the PAl’s usual scare tactics seemed to be backfiring. Before the elec-tion, Lee Kuan Yew said that Aljunied residents would have “five years to live and repent if it decided to elect the opposition.” Rather than pressuring voters to get in line, that statement ended up annoying many of them.

A few days before the election, Prime Minister Lee issued a stunning apology to the country. “If we didn’t get it right, I’m sorry. But we will try better the next time.” For a party that is used to domineering and dictating, this rare admission struck a chord with many Singaporeans.

Cynics invariably saw it as insincere politicking by a canny prime minister. Nurul Izzah, the Malaysian politician, was suitably impressed. “It shows that despite being in power for so long, there is still a strain of humility running through them,” she said

Tactically, it is unclear how much the apology helped. A few days later, the PAP turned in its worst ever electoral performance, winning just above 60 per cent of the vote. For the first time in history, it lost a GRC, in Aljunied.

Shortly after that, Goh Chok Tong and Lee Kuan Yew, two former prime ministers, resigned from their ministerial posts —Mr Lee, modern Singapore’s founding father, had been a minister since 1959. Prime Minister Lee was forced into a major reshuffle of his cabinet.

Within the space of a few months, Singaporean politics had changed completely. The era of PAP dominance had come to an end.”

“International press freedom rankings tell a dire story. The 2011 Freedom of the Press ranking by Freedom House, an NGO, puts Malaysia at 143rd in the world, tied with Cameroon, Qatar and Zambia. Singapore comes in at 150th, behind places such as the Ivory Coast, Iraq and Moldova.

With such a moribund domestic media scene, one might expect large international news organisations to fill the gap, particularly since Malaysia and Singapore are such important cogs in the global economy.

That hasn’t really happened, largely because our governments have bludgeoned international news outfits into silence: foreign editors and journalists have been dragged through our courts so many times that most prefer not to discuss “sensitive” issues, such as politics.”

“College life provided Steven with his first taste of activism. He had signed up for a course entitled “World Architecture”. The entire course material was comprised of gothic, renaissance, neo-gothic and other forms of Western architecture. “There was nothing about Eastern architecture,” cried Steven. “You can’t call that “World Architecture.””

Steven promptly typed out a petition, got fellow students to sign it, and handed it to the Faculty Administration. “They changed the name to ‘Western architecture,’ brought in a new course on Eastern architecture, and hired a lecturer from Hong Kong,” Steven said triumphantly. “That’s when I first realised the power of activism.””

“Much of the refining on the new estates was labor intensive. Machinery was taking over the work of the Tamil rubber tappers, and forcing them from their cosy self-contained communities into the haphazard chaos of a developing Asian city. Disoriented and disadvantaged, many resort to crime and drugs.

YSS, underfunded and overworked, does its best to help them develop — worryingly, hundreds of these estate Indians have lived most of their life undocumented, without access to government services and support, like illegal immigrants in their own country. YSS helps them get identity cards, bringing them into the national fold. But there is only so much a group like YSS can do. It simply does not have the resources or the mandate to help these disadvantaged Indians fight for greater rights.

Instead, three years after our bicycle trip, we saw the emergence of a quasi-political organisation, Hindraf, which catapulted “the Indian issue” to national prominence.

For overstepping the bounds of civil society, a few of Hindraf’s leaders were detained without charge for more than a year. By then they had done enough, though, to help plunge the ruling BN coalition to its poorest ever electoral performance, in GE 2008.

Building on its successes, Malaysian civil society has blossomed tremendously over the past few years. In particular, Malaysians now have an unprecedented ability and willingness to organise themselves around specific causes. In February 2012, more than 15,000 people around Malaysia joined environmental protests against Lynas, an Australian mining company, which has been building the world’s largest refinery for rare earth metals near Kuantan, one of Malaysia’s biggest cities. Aside from environmental concerns, the protestors allege that the government has not been completely transparent about the investment and operation — indeed, many Malaysians first found out about the plant from a New York Times article in March 2011. The “Stop Lynas!” campaign has succeeded in bringing all these issues to light. At the time of writing, the plant’s fate is unclear.

Unlike many previous demonstrations in the country, these protests cut right across society, bringing together Malaysians from different ethnicities, income levels and political affiliations. Just a few years ago, such activism would have been unimaginable.”

“There is no such excitement in Singapore. Organisations here tend to keep their noses out of trouble (read: anything vaguely political). Even so, our usually sleepy NGO world was treated to a raucous spectacle in early 2009, when a group of conservative Christian ladies took over the reins of AWARE (the Association for Women’s Action and Research), one of Singapore’s most prominent NGOs.

The Christian group took control by winning AWARE’s elections fair and square. Or so it seemed. In the months leading up to the elections, there had been an odd influx of new members. On election day, of the 102 people who showed up, 80 were new members. “It was so strange. Usually 30 people turn up to vote. We had never seen anything like it!” says Braema Mathi, a former AWARE president.

What was usually a perfunctory game of musical chairs amongst old friends had turned into a full-blown battle. Outnumbered, many incumbents lost. The new executive committe was made up of ten new members, and been transformed.

At first, AWARE’s “old guard” must have been enthused by the spike in interest from a new generation of women. But they soon smelled a rat. For one, the new exco was opaque: when asked about their agendas, the women fudged. They treated the press with disdain. Nobody knew what they stood for. Even the two old members in the new exco were unsure what was going on. A mysterious aura soon surrounded AWARE.

The new exco also started to shake up the organisation. It decided not to renew the tenure of some of AWARE’s research councils. It made redundant some volunteers and paid staff who had been with the organisation for years. From the outside, it appeared as if a Machiavellian revolution was underway.

This encouraged a few conspiracy theorists to dig around, and they soon discovered that 6 of the 12 new exco attend the same church. Journalists and members of the old guard started to pontificate about the new exco’s motives. Faced with this growing suspicion, the chief puppeteer suddenly reared her head.

Thio Su-Mein, a 71-year-old lawyer, admitted that she had instigated several of her church members to get involved with AWARE. Her motive: to stem AWARE’s alleged drift into a pro-gay organisation. Amongst other things, Ms Thio objected to AWARE’s comprehensive sexual education (CSE) programme, which was being taught in some 10 schools to around 500 students in Singapore. She felt the CSE promoted homosexuality. “Are we going to have an entire generation of lesbians?” she wailed.”

“In order to voice their opinion, a group of ladies decided to stage constitutional coup and take over an entire organisation, bringing religion into a secular space. In any other developed democracy, they would have simply spoken up.

In Singapore, says Alex Au, an online commentator, the Christian right will tend to use stealth to achieve its objectives because the discussion of religion is taboo. Normal channels of communication are simply not available here. In that sense, public discourse is still very much in its infancy.

Singapore’s civil society has developed steadily since then, in tandem with the country’s broader political awakening. Some of these efforts paid off in March 2012, when after years of lobbying by a number of workers’ rights organisations Singapore’s Ministry of Manpower announced a new rule entitling foreign domestic workers to one day off every week. It was a huge victory for Singapore’s civil society. And for the thousands of maids who patiently and dutifully keep our homes running.”

“While most of Singapore seems to hum along in a cloud of political apathy, there is one place where activity appears intense: the “Meet the People Sessions” (MPS). At these weekly meetings, ordinary citizens can meet their elected member of parliament (MP) — whether a first-time MP, or a senior minister — and speak to him or her about anything at all. MPS are part community outreach, part nation building, and part group therapy.

All kinds of people come to MPS — single mums having trouble paying for their mortgage or utilities; elderly folk who simply don’t have enough money; young graduates having difficulty finding a job; traditional Chinese medicine practitioners who cannot get accredited; and many more. They all go in the hope that their esteemed MP can somehow help them.

The MPs certainly run tight ships: each MPS is a poignant demonstration of Singaporean efficiency. When a citizen walks in, he is greeted and quickly put in a queue. Shortly after, the person is interviewed by a volunteer. If the cause is deemed just, the interviewer writes a letter which is approved by senior volunteers, and then ferried onto the MP, who sees the citizen briefly, sympathising, inspiring and infusing with hope. After the letter is signed, it is sent to the relevant authority. The well-rehearsed routine ensures that within a couple of hours, each MP can tend to 30–50 people. Clinical Singaporean service.

The outcome of the letter, of course, varies from case to case. But that, really, is secondary, Even without it, MPS is a thoroughly beneficial and therapeutic exercise for all. It allows MPs to get a better understanding of grassroots issues while portraying themselves as considerate politicians.”

“Malaysia, with a population of 28 million people, has SE Asia’s largest passenger car market — bigger than Indonesia’s (population of 243 million) and Thailand’s (68 million). Cars provided a wonderful newfound freedom. All of a sudden, it was much easier to visit far away friends and relatives. It made sense to find work in another state. And it became possible to go eat at that restaurant in the next town that you had heard about Proton cars empowered Malaysians, and they were more than just a status symbol. For the aspirational Malaysian, Proton was a ticket to development; to the feeling that, finally, their country had arrived. Proton spawned others, such as Perodua and Kancil.

After a great start, Malaysias car industry-and Proton, in particular — is struggling today. Being sheltered from foreign competition has bred complacency and inefficiency. Numerous scandals have plagued the industry. The Koreans and now the Chinese can make better cars for less money.”

““Winning government contracts in Malaysia is quite simple, really, once you Know how the system works,” Matthew admitted matter of factly. “OK, let’s say the government wants to award a contract for a new sewage system. The officer in charge of the tender will solicit bids from a couple of Malaysian companies who can do sewage work. He will ask for bids from a few of his buddies, guys who probably don’t know anything about sewage work.

Suppose the genuine Malaysia company puts in a bid for RM12 million. One of the cronies will put in a low bid, say RM7 million. Another will put in a higher bid, say RM35 million. And the third will put in a ludicrously high one, say RM75 million.

The officer will dismiss the high one, on the grounds of being too expensive. And he will dismiss the two low ones, supposedly as underestimates. And so he will plump for the one in the middle — RM3S million — which seems to make sense on paper, if only for being in the middle.

The crony who submitted the winning bid will then simply walk over to the genuine company, and offer a sub-contract for RM12 million. He will then share the loot with the other cronies. At the end of the day, decent work still gets done, the genuine company makes a living, but the Malaysian taxpayer has overpaid by RM23 million.”

As a result of these shenanigans, many people have a rather jaundiced view of Malaysian business.”

“From an early age, Malaysians are divided into racial buckets. Some Indian and Chinese parents send their kids to Chinese schools, which tend to be richer and better.

A big reason why ethnic schools persist is language.”

“Nothing is impossible here. If we need more land, we reclaim it from the sea — over the past 50 years, Singapore has added 20 per cent to its total land area through land reclamation — an extra 16,000 football fields worth of space. Since we don’t have enough of our own water, we either buy it from our neighbours, desalinise it, or recycle sewage.”

“Just 30 years ago, many Singaporeans were producing clothes in textile mills.

The pace of change in manufacturing, as it quickly moved from menial to high value work, has been phenomenal. This is in part due to Singapore’s rapid growth, driven by the country’s efficiency in attracting new businesses and then paving the way for their exit when competitive pressures change.

Over the past 15 years, a lot of low-tech manufacturing work, including electronics assembly, has fled to cheaper locations such as China. All this chopping and changing has, no doubt, led to much upheaval, as old Singaporeans increasingly find they have nowhere to ply their trade.”

“This openness to trade and commerce, a willingness to deal with anybody, regardless of political affiliation, has slowly become one of the pillars of Singaporean pragmatism. In recent years some liberal critics have sneered at Singapore’s welcoming of Myanmar’s military junta: generals visit the country for medical treatment, while their families come to shop and study.

But this Singaporean pragmatism has been around for decades. In the 1950s, even as he denounced communism, Lee Kong Chian, a Singaporean tycoon, told James Michener that: “Well, I do sell my rubber to communist China. To Russia, too. I have to. Singapore is a free port. That’s what’s made us rich. So if Russia sends a boat down here for rubber, I fill the boat…. if the Government were to pass a law saying that sale of rubber to Russia was forbidden, then the Russian ships would go away empty. But in Singapore there is no such law. Here we trade with everybody.”

Today, Singapore’s ports handle more containers than any other in the world.”

“Unlike Malaysia, there are few natural resources of any kind here. Our land is rarely farmed. There are relics of ancient chicken farms in the outlying areas, while a couple of organic farms have sprouted up too. Other than that, and some fish, there is little primary produce of note.”

“Singapore’s leadership must shoulder some of the blame for not beginning this process earlier. At least it is now taking steps in the right direction. In addition to telling us to be creative, it has also liberalised our educational system, to place less emphasis on rote learning and examinations, and more on creativity, spontaneity and speaking skills.

Lots of money is being pumped into creative industries such as design and animation. Bankruptcy laws have been amended to lessen the financial burden of going broke. And the government has rolled out a slew of incentives for small and medium enterprises (SMEs), to encourage entrepreneurship.”

“Tvo examples drive home this point. The first is the iPod. In 1998, Creative Technologies, a Singaporean firm, was more valuable than Apple. Creative industry-standard computer sound cards, such as the Sound Blaster, had established itsel. asa global leader in digital sound. Creative was in a perfect position to capitalise on the nascent MP3 industry.

Instead of bringing innovative new products to market, however, Creative dithered. Apple, with relatively scarce prior experience in digital sound, released its iPod, which made Creative’s players look like museum pieces. Along with its iTunes music distribution model, Apple’s resurgence began. In ten years, a Californian company had destroyed Singapore’s pride and joy. Few people even remember that Creative once ruled the digital sound roost.”

“Ministers earn more than US$1 million a year. The prime minister earns more than US$2 million, which is not only more than 99 per cent of Singaporeans, but also more than all other politicians in the world, and many corporate CEOs. Singapore’s prime minister earns five times what the US president does. Ministers’ compensation is tied to the top earners in three fields: accounting, banking and law.

The government has always maintained that high pay is needed to attract the best talent into civil service. Many Singaporeans I speak to are sceptical about this argument.”

“Recognising voters’ unhappiness with this, in early 2012 the government agreed to salary cuts of between 36 and 51 per cent for political office holders, including the president and the ministers. The framework for politicians’ performance bonuses was also broadened from a narrow focus on overall GDP growth to more specific indicators tracking the socio-economic development of lower-income citizens.”

“When the elections were held, on 10 May, things went off smoothly. But the results did not mitigate ethnic tensions. Many Malaysians seemed to vote along ethnic lines. The ruling party, massively successful in the previous election, now lost on several fronts, although it maintained sufficient seats to rule. An elated and surprised opposition held victory parades in the capital.

On 12 May, one boisterous procession of opposition Chinese deviated from its prescribed route, and headed through Kampung Baru, a Malay district. Some of them carried brooms, which supposedly symbolised the sweeping away of the Malays from KL. The next morning, 13 May, the opposition Gerakan party apologised for their supporters’ behaviour.

By then, it was too late. In the days following the surprise result, Malay leaders, upset, had criticised their opponents in the media, further inflaming anger and tension amongst the Malay and Chinese communities. The deviant procession tipped the scales.

On 13 May, UMNO Youth members gathered at the residence of the Selangor chief minister, Harun Haji Idris, and insisted on holding their own victory celebration, which would start from his house. Even before setting off, reports streamed in about Chinese and Malays having been murdered in separate incidents around KL.

It didn’t take long for mass violence to break out, in what remain the worst riots the country has ever seen. According to Malaysian police, within a few weeks 196 people had died and 149 were wounded. There were 753 cases of arson and 211 vehicles were destroyed or severely damaged. Some 6,000 residents — 90 per cent of them Chinese — were made homeless.

Although concentrated in the capital, there were minor fracases in other parts of the country with large Chinese populations, including Malacca, Perak and Penang.

Elsewhere, economic war ensued. For instance, there were reports of Chinese businessmen refusing to make loans available to Malay farmers, or to transport agricultural produce from Malay farmers and fishermen.

The tension flowed into the young Singapore nation. Malay and Chinese gangs took advantage of the situation to cement their positions and take revenge. Although the death tolls and damages were relatively minor, one thing became clear. The psyches of both Malaysians and Singaporeans were still, at that point, connected —a larger, imagined community existed despite the political boundary that divided us.

13 May 1969. From then on, race, and therefore religion, would become highly politicised in our countries. Our governments, fearful of the tinderbox, banished all conversation about it. Malaysians and Singaporeans would not be allowed to discuss the most pressing issue of the day.”

“The Belum-Temengor forest is a huge lush expanse that stretches from Perak into Southern Thailand. Belum was one of the buffer, no-go zones in the government’s fight against the Communist Party of Malaysia; to day it is a sanctuary known for its rich biodiversity. It is one of those conflict silver linings, like some of the forests in Myanmar and Sri Lanka, which have been largely untouched by development because few hoteliers or loggers dare go in.

The 130 million-year-old forest is now protected, and as we approached it from Kelantan, on the east, it was obvious that we were leaving civilisation for the abyss. Once we had passed Jeli, the last outpost, the only evidence of humans was the East-West highway — the road itself. Road signs remind misguided travellers not to expect fuel stops, and warn about elephants crossing. This was scary, if only because we felt quite naked on our bicycles. The only other vehicles on the road were trucks, which were carrying goods that had no other way to get from one side of the country to the other.”

“According to Tommy, a lawyer in KL, the reality is a bit more complex. The Indians in Malaysia are not just the Tamils from the South. Those compromise 80 per cent of the Indian population, and the other 20 per cent comprise mainly of Jaffina Tamils, Malayalees and Sikhs.

For reasons pertaining mostly to the way the colonialists divided and ruled, the latter 20 tend to be better off today. They were in administrative positions during the colonial era and that gave them a bit of a leg up. Largely, when we talk about the Indian community that has been left behind, we are talking about the 80 per cent of Tamils. They worked in the plantations. They have not progressed much.

The Indian plantation worker — mostly rubber tappers — once lived decently in cosy, self-contained plantation communities. They were forced out by two broader trends: mechanisation and later, the switch from rubber to more profitable oil palm. Jobless, many were forced to fend for themselves on the fringes of Malaysia’s urban societies, often without documentation: nameless, stateless remnants of colonialism.

Lacking money, direction and any form of social capital, they and their descendants have not been able to cope. Some social scientists note similarities between their urban struggle and that of poor African-American communities in large US cities, particularly with the emergence of ethnic Indian ghettos in KL.”

“Every year, there are stories of religious police crashing into hotel bedrooms to arrest Muslims for khalwat – relations between unmarried people. Muslims who drink get prosecuted, particularly in the stricter states. A Muslim woman was sentenced in 2009 to be caned for having a beer (her sentence was later commuted in 2010).”

“Malaysians actually have a deep respect for each other’s religions so much so that sometimes spirituality is shared in curious ways. For example, in Penang, Malaysians of diferent religions will drive their new cars to Shree Muniswara, a Hindu temple, to be blessed by a Car God. Many Malaysians and Singaporeans we know also happily visit each other’s homes for religious festivals (the scrumptious food is certainly a draw).

The worrying thing, then, is that far too often, the extremists feel they can run roughshod over the rest of the country. I violent goons are still being hired to stir up religious tensions, how far has Malaysia really come since 1969?”

“In March 2007, Ong Kian Cheong and Dorothy Chan Hien Leng, two Singaporeans in their 40s, handed out The Little Bride,” an evangelistic comic strip, to Madam Farharti Ahmad, a Muslim Singaporean. Later that year, they gave it to another Muslim, Irwan Ariffin. Following complaints, Mr Ong and Ms Chan were charged in 2009 under the Sedition Act, and sentenced to eight weeks in jail.

Singapore ensures religious harmony the same way it manages everything else – through harsh punishment.”

“Singapore is unlikely to experience anything similar to what we’ve seen in Malaysia: severed cow’s heads and burning churches. Religious harmony is maintained through an ever present deterrent. As long as people fall in line, and do not incite religious tensions, they can practise whatever religion they want (with a few notable exceptions, such as Jehovah’s Witnesses, who are banned because their pacifist beliefs prevent their male adherents from joining Singapore’s army and carrying arms).

However, as with race, this approach prevents a healthy dialogue from developing. Singaporeans worship in their little silos, without a proper appreciation for each other’s religions. This lack of understanding creates an environment in which some religious leaders feel they can disrespect each other – in the past three years, two Christian pastors have been forced to apologise and back down after making derogatory comments against Buddhists and Taoists.

Similarly, Islam is often misunderstood. In 2005, somebody suggested on a pet website that dogs should not be allowed in taxis because Muslims find them unclean. In response, two bloggers criticised Islam. One of them advocated desecrating Mecca. The bloggers were also charged under the Sedition Act.

From my experience growing up in Singapore, Muslims do not mix as much with the other religions. The main reason for this is diet. In school, while the Muslims were able to eat only from one or two stalls, the non-Muslims could choose from about seven or eight. Thus, in our school canteens, where students take a break from their punishing schedules and partake of food together, we often find the Muslims sitting by themselves, away from the rest. Sometimes I’d sit and eat with them. I knew them better because I was in Malay class, and we used to play football together. On the other hand, many of my Chinese friends hardly interacted with the Muslims.

When I left high school, and went on to the army, my Muslim friends slowly trickled off my radar. Army itself brought separation. Muslims are barred from certain sensitive divisions, such as Armour, where I was based. “Isn’t it strange,” noted a Malay taxi-driver, “that I sometimes pick up Mainland Chinese PRs who are serving in Armour, when Malays, who have lived here for centuries, are not allowed in?” Instead, many Muslims tend to get drafted into the Police Force. Thus, while school life led to diet enforced separation, the two and half years of mandatory natonal service further cleaves the Muslim community away from the rest. In each cohort, a whole swath of Chinese and Indian soldiers shed blood, sweat, and tears – without any Muslims around.

In addition, after high school, many of my social interactions started to include alcohol. While some of my Muslim friends do drink, many stay away from pubs and bars. Thus in yet another facet of life, we spend time with our Chinese and Indian friends, without many Muslims around.

Now, in the working world, some of those school-age dietary barriers crop up again. As a result, I find less opportunity to have lunch with my Muslim colleagues. I have overheard non-Muslims lamenting the lack of options available. For instance, some non-Muslims will complain that “We can’t order this cake” or “We can’t order food from this caterer” because it is non-halal.” “It’s not fair that the whole office has to accommodate that one person’s preference,” they moan.

Our Malaysian friends rarely face such situations. Many restaurants there, even some Chinese and Indian ones, serve only halal food, which allows people from all religions to eat together. Eating is one of the most basic human rituals, cherished even more so by food-crazy Singaporeans. Sadly, on many an occasion, Muslims have to eat separately.

From our conversations with friends and others, we get the sense that 9/11, its aftermath, and the rise of groups such as Jemaah Islamiyah, an affiliate of Al Qaeda, has led many non-Muslim Singaporeans to question Islam. According to Ishak the taxi driver, over the past ten years, Singaporeans have become more suspicious of Muslims.

Furthermore, some of Lee Kuan Yew’s recent comments have undermined relations between Singaporean Muslims and the rest. In the book Lee Kuan Yew: Hard Truths to Keep Singapore Going, which was published in January 2011, he says that Singaporean Muslims have not integrated as well as the rest. On what Muslims could do to integrate better, he says: “Be less strict on Islamic observances and say, “Okay, I’ll eat with you.” Many Singaporeans were appalled. So were many Malaysians and Indonesians.

In December 2011, the Department of Islamic Development Malaysia (Jakim) declared the book “haram”. It seems odd for Mr Lee to claim that Muslims haven’t integrated when certain national policies – particularly those related to military service – have forcibly kept Muslims apart. Have Muslims not integrated, or has Singapore prevented them from integrating?

PM Lee Hsien Loong, his son, and many other PAP members distanced themselves from the comments. In early March two months before the general elections – Lee Kuan Yew said that he stands corrected on the statement, which was recorded “probably two or three years ago.””

“In 1990, citizens made up more than 86 per cent of Singapore’s three million people. Today, citizens make up only around 64 per cent of Singapore’s five million odd people. In other words, more than one in three people in Singapore today are foreigners (PRs and non-residents, or temporary workers). Meanwhile, more than half of Singaporean citizens are probably foreign-born. This infusion of foreigners is one of the most dramatic social experiments anywhere in the world.

Before, the few immigrants felt a strong need to integrate into Singaporean society. Today, they do not – many immigrant communities have a critical mass and an attendant social support network that newcomers easily plug into. For example, on any given day, one can find a bustling Filipino community in Orchard Road, a Chinese one in Chinatown, an Indian one in Serangoon Road, and a Myanmese one around Peninsular Plaza.

They like to speak their own language, eat at their own restaurants, and buy products and services from their own kind.”

“Singapore’s carefully crafted ethnic housing policies fail to take account of renters, only home owners. By tracking who owns which public housing unit, the authorities can ensure that there is a right mix of Chinese, Indian and Malay in every town. If every homeowner, however, chooses to rent to a Chinese, or Myanmese, there is little the government can do.

Similarly, ethnic enclaves have also formed at the very highest end of the income ladder, none more obvious than the rich Indian communities on the East coast.

“The Waterside is just a mini-India,” says an Indian acquaintance from Bombay.

“Rich, educated Indians move here and realise that they do not need to leave their traditional social circles. Indian schools from Delhi and Mumbai have their own little cliques. Singapore is now known as India’s cleanest city, haha.”

Ethnic policies do not interfere with the allocation of private condominium units. In that way, we practise a strange double standard – those staying in public housing must integrate, while the richer ones in private do not have to.”

“All this has prompted the government to set up the National Integration Council (NIC). Amongst other things, the NIC will help “newcomers and locals move out of their social comfort zones and widen their social circles,” says its head, Dr Vivian Balakrishnan, our minister for community development, youth and sports.”

“We Singaporeans sometimes forget that crime exists. Indeed, the simple rule of law is the result of years of hard work. Lee Kuan Yew’s team drew up some of the strictest laws and harshest penalties known to the post-colonial democratic world. They combated corruption so effectively that the Singapore Police Force and their white-collar crime busters, the Commercial Affairs Department, quickly garnered a reputation for moral infallibility and ruthless efficiency.

Bribery is so rare that if and when it does occur, there is a media frenzy. The sort of crime that makes “News!” in Singapore astounds most visitors. Petty bribes, minor drug offences, gang scuffles, unarmed robberies. These newsworthy events in Singapore are but day-to-day hazards of life in many other big cities.”

“The Singaporean policeman has become a subliminal force that exerts power simply by the threat of its presence.

The classic anecdote is of the obedient Singaporean who, in the dead of the night, standing by a remote road, with not a single car or person in sight, will prefer to wait for the Green Man before crossing, rather than risk breaking the law.

The presence of plainclothes officers and the fear of remote surveillance keep Singaporeans on edge. Big Brother is watching! Many are afraid to publicly discuss even the most banal of government policies, for fear of being recorded. Though certainly not as powerful or brutal as organisations such as the KGB, Singapore’s Internal Security Department is sometimes portrayed as a sinister Secret Police. This fear of the unknown, of what can and cannot be said and done, grips and holds Singaporeans in a constant daze of exaggerated self-censorship.”

“Presumably, our government believed it could improve Singapore’s gene pool. In 1984 it implemented a programme that tried to increase the fertility of university-educated women while offering subsidies for the voluntary sterilisation of poor and uneducated parents. Singapore even set up a couple of government agencies to further this agenda.

The Social Development Unit (SDU) was formed in 1984 to promote marriages among graduate singles, while Social Development Services (SDS) was set up in 1985 to promote marriages among non-graduate singles.

Sometimes it seems like our eugenics policies were implemented in a bygone era rife with classism. Actually, it was less than 30 years ago. We grew up in a society where eugenics influenced love.”

“Malaysia’s religious police do frequently try to peer into the private love lives of Muslims in the country, to ensure that unmarried couples are not engaging in illicit physical activity – what is known as khalwat, literally “close proximity”. These khalwat raids can be quite sudden and brutal – Islamic officers are known to barge into people’s houses and rooms, looking for immoral activity.”

“There was also a sexual twist to their tomfoolery. Ever so often, one joker would lift up his right hand, palm up, fingers gripping an imaginary cucumber, while his forearm swung back and forth. We soon found out that this lot actually masturbated together. Before they finally did leave, they told us that they were off to Bachok, a nearby seaside town, for a Friday evening of debauchery. Sex with some young ladies, failing which, another male group therapy session.

In the chaos of the rain, Kelantan had crept up on us. We had been expecting a different environment, a land where radical Islam dominated. Where was the undeveloped, tribal bastion that PAS had supposedly created?

For one, it wasn’t clear how suppressed women really are. Kelantan has always been a matriarchal society, and the distinction between ownership and management here was blurred. Wati was running the whole show, while Saupi, her husband, relaxed, playing with his children. He had given her the place when she agreed to be his second wife. We would come to expect this Kelantanese domestic role reversal.

“The women here, they are smart. They can run the business. We men, we can just relax, haha,” smiled Saupi.”