TR EMERITUS

Singaporeans are too arrogant and naive to think that the main reason for the massive influx of Chinese PRC and Indians into Singapore is to artificially inflate the GDP and thus allowing the PAP ministers to get salary bonuses. This may be true — but I do not think it is the main reason for the influx. For one thing, PAP ministers are already very rich and are millionaires. What do rich men want? More money? Maybe. But I do not think more money is what they really want. The answer is that rich men want POWER, and MORE POWER. There are very clear signs that Singaporeans — even though they are “third class citizens”, “slow and expensive” and “daft” (as labelled by PAP) — are beginning to realize that decades of voting in PAP is actually ruining the future of themselves and their children and future generations. PAP knows this, and is very aware that the current set of voters (i.e., native Singaporean citizens) will no longer sustain PAP’s power base. Thus, the influx of the Chinese PRC and Indians is to make up, and offset the loss of votes to PAP in the coming elections. If the conditions of daily living for native Singaporean citizens are made so negative that they have no choice but to leave Singapore and migrate to true first world nations like the U.S., Canada, U.K. and Australia, then it will be easier for PAP to replace them with compliant Chinese PRC and Indians who will vote PAP for life. There is also a reason why Chinese PRC immigrants are targeted by PAP. The Chinese are used to authoritarian governments and care only about money. This makes a lot of sense for the PAP to bring them in, because they will not question PAP’s iron fist policies. It is all bad news. Personally, my view is that the next one or two general elections are the only realistic window of opportunity for native Singaporean citizens to vote out PAP. Once this window of opportunity closes, there will be absolutely no way for native Singaporean citizens to vote PAP out, even if they want to — because the numbers of new Singapore citizens from the current influx of PRs will vastly outnumber the number of current native Singaporean citizens. This is not a pure speculation but mathematical certainty. Don’t forget, the Chinese PRCs and Indians multiply much much faster than the native Singaporean citizens, and they are very aware of the negative attitude among native Singaporean citizens towards them. Don’t be surprise if they become citizens and retaliate. It is all tragic. But I have no sympathy whatsoever for the native Singaporeans — because it is the native Singaporeans who brought this tragic situation onto themselves by being KS and overly-practical and voting PAP in decade after decade. In the end, you only have yourself to blame.   Quitter Andrew  Read More →

Cup of tea in one hand, paperback in the other, Alan Shadrake sits down at a shady table in the hotel courtyard. To the foreign tourists walking by, he looks like one of them, another casual visitor flitting through this tropical city-state. Alan Shadrake But Mr. Sheldrake, a British journalist, isn’t free to leave town when he pleases. The book he carries, "Once a Jolly Hangman: Singapore’s Justice in the Dock," is his own, and its content has triggered a criminal investigation. He’s already been charged for contempt of court for his bilious criticism of how Singapore’s judiciary applies the death penalty. A criminal defamation case is also pending. The author is the latest critic to fall foul of Singapore’s prickly rulers, who exert strict controls on civil liberties in their squeaky-clean city. His trial may shine a spotlight on the flaws in this system, at a time when a new generation is beginning to question some of its high-handed ways. There is virtually no precedent for a successful legal defense on issues deemed sensitive by Singaporean authorities. The US State Department and human rights groups have repeatedly raised concerns over judicial impartiality in political cases, such as ruling-party lawsuits against the opposition. If found guilty of "scandalizing the judiciary" in his book, Shadrake faces a fine, a jail term, or both. But he refuses to apologize in return for a lesser sentence and says he prefers to defend himself in court when the trial resumes later this month. “I don’t care what they do to me. The more they do to me, it proves what I say in the book. It will be another chapter in my book,” says Shadrake, who divides his time between Britain and Malaysia, where the book was published in June. He was arrested last month after a private book launch in Singapore. Implications of impropriety? At a July 30 hearing, prosecutors filed papers stating that Shadrake’s book implied that Singapore's judiciary was “guilty of impropriety” and succumbs to “political and economic pressures” in death penalty cases, according to news reports. Last year, Singapore’s High Court fined a Wall Street Journal editor for publishing three articles that criticized the judiciary. Other international publications have also faced legal action in Singapore, often initiated by its founding leader, Lee Kwan Yew, or his son, Lee Hsien Loong, the current prime minister. Prominent opposition figures have also been sued for defamation, resulting in heavy damages and, in some cases, bankruptcy. Lee Kwan Yew, who holds the title of Minister Mentor, has argued that legal action is necessary to protect his reputation and that of Singapore, which styles itself as an efficient, crime-free financial hub. Government officials point to international surveys that rate its judiciary system as world-class. But critics say the government’s legal tactics against its opponents undermines this much-vaunted reputation. In Shadrake’s case, the charge of contempt is particularly troubling because Singapore doesn’t allow a defense of fair comment or public interest, as is the case in libel law. M. Ravi, a criminal attorney who is defending Shadrake, says the charge is widely used in Singapore. In 2008, three activists who wore T-shirts showing judges as kangaroos were sentenced to short jail terms for showing disrespect. “They apply contempt of court to stifle dissent. They’ve gone overboard on this,” says Mr. Ravi. The truth may not matter Alex Au, a social activist, says Shadrake will face an uphill battle in court, as the question of whether his allegations are true isn’t a defense. By criticizing the judiciary as less than impartial, the book represents an attack on the legitimacy of a paternalistic ruling elite. “The criticism makes the offence, whether true or false… It's an act of silencing,” says Mr. Au, who is among a tiny band of Singaporeans who publicly oppose the death penalty. Singapore imposes a mandatory death penalty for drug trafficking and has the world’s highest per capita rate of executions, according to Amnesty International. The actual number of people hanged is a state secret. In 2005, Singapore’s chief executioner – the ‘Jolly Hangman’ – told Shadrake that he’d executed about 1,000 people since 1959. The government has denied that Shadrake is being prosecuted because of his opposition to the death penalty. “It is his violation of the laws of Singapore which are [the issue],” the police said, according to Bloomberg. In his book, Shadrake argues that the poor and uneducated are put to death while well-connected drug dealers and foreigners from countries with diplomatic clout are spared. Many of his arguments echo those in the US debate over capital punishment, including inadequate legal aid. But he also investigates the 2003 conviction of Vignes Mourthi, a Malaysian factory worker, for selling heroin to an undercover cop. It later emerged that the narcotics officer had raped a woman and then tried to bribe her not to press charges. During his trial, the defense was not told of the pending investigation of the officer, whose testimony helped secure the conviction. Mourthi said a friend had tricked him into carrying the drugs. The officer was later found guilty of corruption and jailed, but only after Mourthi’s execution, says Shadrake, who calls it a miscarriage of justice. “This is judicial murder, cold-blooded murder,” he says. "Baseless allegations" or an inconvenient truth? In defense of the system, judicial spokesperson Li Jin Haw says that Singapore must protect its courts from "baseless allegations that seek to undermine public confidence" in their integrity and independence. Ravi, Shadrake’s lawyer, is currently seeking clemency for another Malaysian sentenced last year to death by hanging. He also defended Mourthi during his trial and appeal process and has kept in touch with the executed man’s father. On Aug. 10, the father and a group of Malaysian lawyers filed a petition at Singapore’s embassy in Kuala Lumpur seeking a posthumous exoneration of Mourthi. Ravi accompanied them, and pressed the case of his latest death-row client. Undaunted by the challenge of defending Shadrake, Ravi sees a bigger goal. “We’re putting the entire judiciary on trial,” he says. Meanwhile, Shadrake’s book is selling well in neighboring Malaysia. Its original print run of 2,000 has long sold out. Most of the buyers, says Shadrake, are Singaporeans whose interest has been pricked by his arrest.   by Simon Montlake Source: The Christian Science Monitor  Read More →

At first I thought I had misheard, or at the very least misunderstood. We had just trudged uphill in the oppressive Singapore heat for 15 minutes, the family laden with binders, boxes and stacks of papers. Everyone was covered with a sheen of sweat. And that was only just the tiniest fraction of what the Yong family had been through. For them, and the many activists who have supported them, today was the culmination of at least 2 months worth of tireless, persistent effort. Yong Vui Kong’s family was on their way to submit the 109,346 signatures they had collected for the petition appealing to the President, and the Singapore government, for clemency. These signatures had been collected on the streets of Sabah and West Malaysia, as well as in Singapore and online. While his siblings and close relatives had been walking the streets of Malaysia stopping everyone and anyone who would listen, Yun Leong – who is working in Singapore – had been going out on the streets alone during every lunch break, collecting signatures for the petition. He singlehandedly collected about 317 signatures. He was sick today, with a sore throat that made it difficult for him to speak. He said it’d been a long time since he’d slept well. But he was determined to keep fighting for his brother’s life. And today he was going to submit all these precious signatures at the Istana, in the hopes that 109,346 voices would be enough. But at the back gate of Istana – yes, they weren’t allowed to submit the petition at the main gate facing the main road – the security officer of the Istana was brusque and businesslike. He, assisted by a colleague, accepted the petitions, turned on his heel and left, only pausing to say, “You may leave now.” Understandably, the family was stunned and confused. Was that it? They had handed over their blood, sweat and tears of the past two months, but had not even had a chance to say a word. The man had taken hold of the most crucial appeal they had ever made to anyone in their whole lives, and had just walked away. Surely they should have been able to have said something? “Can we just say a few words, a message to be passed on to the President?” Yun Leong asked Datuk Chua Soon Bui, the Sabah Member of Parliament who had accompanied the family, Vui Kong’s Singaporean legal representative M Ravi and Malaysian legal representative Ngeow Chow Ying to submit the signatures. Istana security While they were deliberating this, the security officer, Corporal Marcus Chong, returned. He again told everyone that they had to leave. “Please depart from here.” Vui Kong’s father came forward, wanting to speak so a message could be passed on to the President. Corporal Chong refused to listen to him, saying that they had already received the petition, and that the family should leave “for safety reasons”. Upset, all six siblings, father and aunt knelt before the Istana, hoping to be heard. Hoping that someone, anyone, would listen to their plea, and spare their brother, son and nephew. But Corporal Chong returned again, and everyone was made to leave. Deflated, disappointed and anxious, the family walked back in tears. Later at the press conference, Yun Leong spoke. After thanking everyone for their support, he said, “Although this misfortune has befallen our family, we will keep on fighting. Until the last minute, or even the last second, we will not give up on my younger brother Vui Kong.” I cannot even begin to putting myself in the Yong family’s shoes. I cannot begin to imagine the pain they must be going through. I cannot begin to imagine what it is like to be Yun Leong or Vui Fung – both have been so incredibly strong, for their brother and for their family. And I definitely cannot imagine what it is like to be Vui Kong, sitting in a cell waiting while people who have probably never even clapped eyes on him decide if he lives or dies. Watching as the family knelt on the hot asphalt before the Istana, I could only feel ashamed of my country, and those who represent it. In fairness, Corporal Chong had not been rude, or abusive. He probably thought he was just trying to do his job. But it was the way he did it that betrayed the utter coldness of Singapore – by-the-book, inflexible and mechanical. All he was concerned about was getting everyone to go away. He had not even allowed the family a moment to grieve, or even wanted listen to what the family had to say. All Vui Kong’s father had wanted to say was this: “Please ask the President to let my son have a second chance.“ Sister Vui Fung Is this what we have become? Ruthlessly efficient yet heartless automatons? Are we now so preoccupied with doing our jobs that we have forgotten what it is to show even a little bit of compassion to a hurting family? A family whose 22-year-old child we want to send to the gallows? All they had wanted was to make sure that their plea had been heard by the representative of the Istana – was that really so much to ask? Was it really necessary to dismiss them without even stopping for the extra 10 seconds it would have taken to listen to Vui Kong’s father? Also, why was it that the family was not allowed to submit the petition at the main gate? Why did everyone have to walk 15 minutes round the Istana compound to what was, frankly speaking, the arse-end of the Istana? I suppose the authorities didn’t want any more media attention than was strictly necessary. The sight of the family kneeling before the Istana’s main gate in full view of everyone on the main road would probably have been unpalatable for them. And if that is the case, then my question is this: WHY? If you are so sure that a young boy like Vui Kong must die for the greater good, then why the unwillingness to let Singaporeans be aware of his case? If you are so sure that the mandatory death penalty is justified and necessary as a deterrent, then why the need to hush all this up? If you are so determined to take a life, then you sure as hell better have the guts to face up to the consequences. Don’t try to sweep everything under the carpet. I also think of President S R Nathan. According to a report by ChannelNewsAsia yesterday, he’s in Shanghai, being impressed with the China pavilion at the World Expo and watching Kunqu opera. President Nathan I can’t help but wonder if he even knows of Yong Vui Kong. If he’s even heard his name. If he even cares that while he’s in Shanghai being wined and dined by officials and diplomats, a family is kneeling outside the Istana with heads bowed, begging for a life to be saved. I wonder if he’s outraged by the fact that the High Court has ruled that he has no power in granting clemencies, even though previous Presidents had been hailed for having exercised just that power. I wonder if he knows that people are calling for him to convene a Constitutional Tribunal. How does he feel, knowing that he holds the lives of so many in his hands? How does he feel, knowing that he could change so many lives if he wanted to? Or does he not care at all? I have no answers to these questions. Only the President has these answers. I am merely just one Singaporean citizen. In this campaign to save Yong Vui Kong, there is only one thing I can still do. Like Yun Leong and his family, I can only keep fighting until the very last second.   by Kirsten Han   Click here to read The Straits Times’ 150-word offering: a piece they needed two reporters for. Editor's note: The Online Citizen have been actively campaigning for the clemency of Yong Vui Kong and has kindly agreed to share their articles with us.  Read More →