Living with Myths in Singapore
Loh Kah Seng, Thum Ping Tjin and Jack Meng-tat Chia (eds)
Ethos Books: 2017
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Rather unusually for our progress-oriented nation, celebrations for Singapore’s fiftieth birthday in 2015 helped to thrust its shared history back into the spotlight. And since then – beyond a brief efflorescence of both state-led and grassroots commemorative efforts – we have seen a gratifying number of serious attempts by civil society actors to make a more reflective and rewarding assessment of our past.

 Living With Myths In Singapore is one such initiative. Edited by three of contemporary Singapore’s most thoughtful historians, and containing distinctive contributions from twenty-four scholars, activists and critics, this volume affords policymakers and their constituents alike an opportunity to revisit a set of narratives that are commonly accepted as truths. In so doing, the editors suggest, we might not only begin to foster a “culture of critical thinking and research”, but, as a national community, imagine what “viable alternatives” there are to achieving a “more inclusive and democratic Singapore”.

How, exactly, do they envision this? While it is certainly important to seek historical truth, this volume is “not all about myth-busting”. Instead, the editors set out to explain why some entrenched narratives are constructed, and prove compelling. In other words, they aim to unravel what Barthes described as myth-making: the process by which man-made, historical events are given “natural” explanations, and accepted as “common-sense” occurrences. This is important, because some of the myths tackled here do in fact have an historical basis. But the authors and editors alike are interested in unpacking how the messy evidence of history is marshalled into “compelling stories that have become common sense”.

The focus, then, is not just on the facts, but on fictions that we tell and re-tell. And while a broad range of these fictions are subject to interrogation, two key themes stand out as timely reminders for policy thinkers. The first is that policies often rely on myths to gain political support, public resonance and cross-sector confidence. These same myths have cultural effects far beyond that of any single policy. Arthur Chia points out in his chapter on “Myths of Innovation and Technology”, for example, that the evolution of the “Intelligent Island” concept of the 1980s into today’s model of the “Smart Nation” has not only paved the way for specific patterns of R&D expenditure, but shifted the emphasis from developing Singapore as a “global science-city”, towards developing Singaporeans as innovative and techno-literate individuals. Likewise, Terence Lee argues that the “Myth of Singapore as a Global Media Hub” may have justified ambitious investments in Interactive Digital Media (among other ventures), but has also steered attention away from local media productions towards international engagement. Policymakers should adopt a longer perspective that is sensitive to such repercussions.

The second insight is that the whole process of policymaking, from consultation to implementation, can be one of forming, reinforcing and acting on myths. Established narratives shape how we see problems, cloud our interpretation of data and narrow the range of options we think we have; they are also likely to be reinforced by our actions. In her chapter, Laavanya Kathiravelu shows how the “perceived inherent incompatibility” of Singapore’s ethnic groups has led policymakers to enshrine race categorisations through differentiated “access to educational resources, housing and welfare”. These policies, in turn, obscure other measures of inequality in Singapore, and encourage the “unconscious and uncritical labelling of fellow Singaporeans in racial terms” among citizens – thus turning the myth of inter-racial conflict into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Other myths guide decision-making in both policy and non-governmental sectors. As Teo You Yenn writes, pervasive myths about the structure of inequality in Singapore, and about those who suffer most from its effects, not only lead policymakers to treat poverty as an “exceptional” condition that can be solved by targeted policies (thus isolating and stigmatising the poor), but also lead charities and donors to make presumptuous, sweeping choices on behalf of their beneficiaries (thus undermining their agency even further). As a corollary, these and other chapters suggest that myths are most easily constructed about those least like us – ethnic minorities, “the poor” – and prompt tough questions about how to design a more inclusive policymaking process.

Recognising myths and understanding their mechanics is one thing; making better policy is another. In this, the editors’ fidelity to an historical perspective means that (despite its title) the volume does not quite go far enough in telling us how to live with myths. Admittedly, where some myths reside deep in the national consciousness – as with perceptions about the roles that trade unions and the Law Society should occupy in our public sphere (explored in chapters by Gareth Curless and Teo Soh Lung respectively) – proposing a way forward is no easy task. There are, however, some exceptions.

Some authors envision different ways of conceiving and commemorating the past that promise to widen the frames of possibility for policymaking in Singapore. Lee Kah-Wee argues, for instance, that proposals for offshore casinos on Pulau Sejahat and Pulau Blakang Mati, and legalised lotteries at the Turf Club and Singapore Pools, were framed throughout the 1960s as ways for our newly-independent nation to gain economic independence and finance large infrastructural projects. Revisiting this history, he suggests, might afford new ways of thinking about the future of our Integrated Resorts that do not fall back on weary narratives of Western decadence and moral hazard. In his chapter on “Social Welfare in Singapore”, Ho Chi Tim sets out to re-structure myths about social provision in a more systematic way. After sketching an alternative history of the Social Welfare Department (the forerunner of today’s Ministry of Social and Family Development) that incorporates past efforts to develop a comprehensive social safety net here, he explores the possibilities of this narrative for how we perceive welfare in today’s Singapore, as well as how we understand Singapore’s place in global postwar history.

Other authors go further, describing concrete ways of responding to the past that have direct policy implications. Two complementary chapters – Mark Baildon and Suhaimi Afandi’s on history teaching in Singapore, and Christine Han’s on citizenship education – both advance specific proposals for educational policy. The former takes issue less with any single aspect of the “Singapore Story” as it is taught in schools, than with how students are introduced to, and encouraged to engage with, the past. Baildon and Afandi make the case that imparting Singapore’s history as a “singular narrative” does not, in fact, prepare students to be thoughtful, socially-conscious citizens; far better, they argue, to teach history as “an interpretive practice”, in order to build the basis for “very practical life-long thinking skills”. Citing research that historical analysis can be effectively taught even at primary level, they suggest that introducing students to conflicting narratives, and the skills required to make sense of these, will develop their abilities to unravel complex “issues they are likely to encounter as citizens”. In the same vein, Han argues that shifting the focus of citizenship education from imparting a set of “Shared Values” to improving students’ grasp of “procedural values’ (for example, how to participate in political institutions, and how to discuss sensitive issues responsibly) will not only make the curriculum more relevant to lived experience, but elevate the quality of public discourse in Singapore. Speaking as educators themselves, these authors’ proposals provide a model as to how the detrimental effects of particular myths can be tackled through specific policy revisions or interventions.

Ultimately, however, the value of this volume to today’s policymakers extends beyond these immediate takeaways. Granted, myths proliferate in the public consciousness, and being aware of these should lead to more circumspect policymaking, or prompt targeted policies to moderate their effects. But Living With Myths In Singapore, as a compendium of current research from across academia and civil society, also serves as a prism to the concerns and convictions of their authors, and could provide a starting-point for building a more vibrant and inclusive public sphere with both state- and non-state voices.

It is important to recognise, for one, that a significant number of contributors are paying serious attention to the question of social inequality in Singapore. In this volume alone, they have chosen to approach the issue from several angles: whether by studying the relationship between income, race and citizenship, by scrutinising aspects of social provision in Singapore, or by excavating more egalitarian “paths not taken” as promoted by the early People’s Action Party and figures like James Puthucheary or David Marshall. Such projects, which may have aroused political sensitivities in an earlier era for seeming to challenge our socio-political compact, now seem to dovetail with state-led moves to redistribute the fruits of Singapore’s success and provide for an ageing population. As such, discussions in this volume should occasion a widening of the space for like-minded, progressive debate.

Another thread running through this book is a recognition of how civil society itself has been the subject of various less charitable myths, mobilised across the decades in order to limit civic engagement and ground-up political participation. If anything, however, a thoughtful and well-researched volume like this one should justify greater trust in the scholars and practitioners who make up our civil society to approach crucial questions responsibly and fruitfully. They are, after all, engaged in the work of imagining a better Singapore.

At a time when misinformation seems ever more pervasive, and the consequences of “fake news” more dire, a volume like this can equip us all – state and public agents alike – to be more discerning towards the narratives we consume and propagate, and also to understand how divisive narratives are designed and disseminated. As the editors write in their introduction, “the onus is on [Singaporeans] to discuss and reflect on social issues, to find ways to engage productively with views that differ from their own”: it is only in this way that myths can be identified and counterbalanced. If this is indeed so, then those of us with the privilege of improving and implementing policy must also shoulder the responsibility of helping citizens discharge that obligation: by fostering their capacity for imaginative empathy and providing the space for responsible engagement. After all, neither myth-making nor myth-busting can be done by a select few. If it takes a public to produce a myth, it will also take a public to dispel one.

By laying bare some of the myths that undergird our present society, this volume provides a valuable starting-point for contending with harmful narratives, conceiving better policy and connecting with a community that has begun thinking seriously about these issues. Its insights can help us to be more truthful to those we serve, and to ourselves. We owe them, and ourselves, as much.

• Tags: Free to read, Jack Meng-tat Chia, Loh Kah Seng, Theophilus Kwek, Thum Ping Tjin