We can afford to forgive this arrogant twerp
Sunday With Chua Mui Hoong Opinion Editor
The Straits Times
Tuesday, Jan 28, 2014
On Wednesday, I had a nice, gossipy lunch at leafy Dempsey with a friend.
As I drove off afterwards down a one-way lane, I saw a car hurtling towards me in the opposite - and wrong - direction.
I tucked my tiny Suzuki to one side and watched as the driver zipped past.
It was a Caucasian male in rolled-up shirt sleeves. He didn't look apologetic; he didn't wave to acknowledge I had slowed down for him to zip past against the traffic direction. Sure, we were the only cars on the road and Dempsey is a quiet area on weekday afternoons, so it wasn't a particular hardship to let him pass.
But still.
"Ang moh," I muttered to myself, shaking my head.
Later, a friend coined a phrase for such encounters: our own "Anton Casey moment" - that point when Singaporeans encounter an inconsiderate, even downright rude, or boorish, or arrogant behaviour from a foreigner (more often than not, a Caucasian male).
Like many Singaporeans, I was incensed at the contemptuous and contemptible attitude of British wealth manager Anton Casey, whose insensitive comments on Facebook about his host country sparked off an online hate campaign.
He had posted a picture of his son in the MRT with the caption: "Daddy, where is your car and who are all these poor people?"
Another post had a picture of his Porsche and a comment: "Ahhhh reunited with my baby. Normal service can resume, once I have washed the stench of public transport off me."
But as the online vitriol gathered steam, and as people started getting abusive towards him, and then his Singaporean wife and his son, and others encouraged them, I started getting uncomfortable.
Whatever he might have said in a few Facebook posts, he had chosen to work here, live here, marry a local girl, and start a local family.
To be sure, he sounded like an arrogant little twerp. But what accounts for such anger towards him?
When I mentioned to a taxi driver that online reactions to Mr Casey were getting nasty, he nodded and said: "Yah, people all tulan" - a Hokkien word whose metaphorical meaning refers to being vexed beyond tolerance.
He went on to recount some of his own "Anton Casey moments". In his case, it was expat cyclists: those who hog a lane, or two. Who expect right of way everywhere: pedestrians to make way for them on pavements, and motorists to make way for them on the road, who dart across traffic light junctions when the light isn't in their favour, expecting cars to avoid them.
On the road, as in life, and online, it's all about give and take. When one party appears to have a sense of entitlement and expects others to give way to them, one's sense of tolerance disappears.
To be sure, as Mr Rob O'Brien points out on this page, most expats are not Anton Caseys.
We all know foreigners who have taken to Singapore as a second home. In tiny, globalised yet close-knit Singapore, many of us are friendly with, have dated, or have friends who dated or are married to foreigners.
Most of us have worked with them. In The Straits Times, I have Caucasian male colleagues who are exemplars of patience and dignity. Beside them, it is folk like me who appear brash and arrogant, but they handle my brusque impatience with good grace and humour.
So we understand that there is a stereotype of the arrogant Caucasian - and that, like most stereotypes, it both reflects a semblance of reality and is an exaggeration.
Some foreigners are in-your-face arrogant. But we all know Singaporeans who are like that too.
Like Mr Casey, some of us like to shoot our mouths off. We like to be snarky and clever. We say the wrong things about people who are not like us. We post offensive stuff. We ride roughshod over others' feelings. Among friends, we too may complain of the noise and smells in crowded places.
If we are mature, decent people, when others are hurt and we are called to order for our words, we acknowledge the fault, and say sorry. Sometimes, the apology comes out all wrong. We retreat, and then we may try to say sorry again.
Mr Casey has done all that. He has lost his job and his family their peace of mind.
As Singaporeans, I hope more of us will be able to forgive those who insult us.
When outsiders attack a close-knit group, there may be a natural instinct to return insult with abuse, to escalate from verbal contempt to psychological harassment and threats of physical harm.
As a proud people of a young nation, we love our country and way of life - smells and all - with the ferocious love of a lioness for her cub. We may diss our beloved cub all we want - that is the prerogative and privilege of nationality - but woe betide others who dare breathe a negative word of her.
I like that proud spirit of Singaporeans who rush out to speak up on behalf of the "poor people" that Mr Casey ridiculed.
But I also hope we can see that some have gone overboard with their retaliation, if they turn abusive or threaten harm.
We do not condone the insult; we may throw back a few choice ones for good measure. But we should not condone personal abuse or violent threats hurled at the one doing the insulting. And certainly not at his loved ones.
We should have the self-confidence and the maturity to see that by showing contempt for and mocking ordinary people, Mr Casey has insulted and disrespected himself more than he has Singaporeans. By his own hand, in his own words, he has shown the world what an intolerant person he is, chockful of conceit.
We can then respond more in sorrow than in anger.
In any case, if his latest apology is sincere - unlike the earlier one issued through a public relations company - he is having his own personal epiphany.
What about us Singaporeans? Perhaps we too need to do some self-reflection.
Can we be a little less prickly when others poke fun at us? Can we learn to fight back online, without resorting to personal attacks, vulgarities or threats of harm?
Do we have the grace to accept an apology and forgive?
And to say: This man, who is our guest, has returned hospitality with insult. He has done us wrong, but he has apologised and is paying the price.
Enough is enough.
[email protected]
Sunday With Chua Mui Hoong Opinion Editor
The Straits Times
Tuesday, Jan 28, 2014
On Wednesday, I had a nice, gossipy lunch at leafy Dempsey with a friend.
As I drove off afterwards down a one-way lane, I saw a car hurtling towards me in the opposite - and wrong - direction.
I tucked my tiny Suzuki to one side and watched as the driver zipped past.
It was a Caucasian male in rolled-up shirt sleeves. He didn't look apologetic; he didn't wave to acknowledge I had slowed down for him to zip past against the traffic direction. Sure, we were the only cars on the road and Dempsey is a quiet area on weekday afternoons, so it wasn't a particular hardship to let him pass.
But still.
"Ang moh," I muttered to myself, shaking my head.
Later, a friend coined a phrase for such encounters: our own "Anton Casey moment" - that point when Singaporeans encounter an inconsiderate, even downright rude, or boorish, or arrogant behaviour from a foreigner (more often than not, a Caucasian male).
Like many Singaporeans, I was incensed at the contemptuous and contemptible attitude of British wealth manager Anton Casey, whose insensitive comments on Facebook about his host country sparked off an online hate campaign.
He had posted a picture of his son in the MRT with the caption: "Daddy, where is your car and who are all these poor people?"
Another post had a picture of his Porsche and a comment: "Ahhhh reunited with my baby. Normal service can resume, once I have washed the stench of public transport off me."
But as the online vitriol gathered steam, and as people started getting abusive towards him, and then his Singaporean wife and his son, and others encouraged them, I started getting uncomfortable.
Whatever he might have said in a few Facebook posts, he had chosen to work here, live here, marry a local girl, and start a local family.
To be sure, he sounded like an arrogant little twerp. But what accounts for such anger towards him?
When I mentioned to a taxi driver that online reactions to Mr Casey were getting nasty, he nodded and said: "Yah, people all tulan" - a Hokkien word whose metaphorical meaning refers to being vexed beyond tolerance.
He went on to recount some of his own "Anton Casey moments". In his case, it was expat cyclists: those who hog a lane, or two. Who expect right of way everywhere: pedestrians to make way for them on pavements, and motorists to make way for them on the road, who dart across traffic light junctions when the light isn't in their favour, expecting cars to avoid them.
On the road, as in life, and online, it's all about give and take. When one party appears to have a sense of entitlement and expects others to give way to them, one's sense of tolerance disappears.
To be sure, as Mr Rob O'Brien points out on this page, most expats are not Anton Caseys.
We all know foreigners who have taken to Singapore as a second home. In tiny, globalised yet close-knit Singapore, many of us are friendly with, have dated, or have friends who dated or are married to foreigners.
Most of us have worked with them. In The Straits Times, I have Caucasian male colleagues who are exemplars of patience and dignity. Beside them, it is folk like me who appear brash and arrogant, but they handle my brusque impatience with good grace and humour.
So we understand that there is a stereotype of the arrogant Caucasian - and that, like most stereotypes, it both reflects a semblance of reality and is an exaggeration.
Some foreigners are in-your-face arrogant. But we all know Singaporeans who are like that too.
Like Mr Casey, some of us like to shoot our mouths off. We like to be snarky and clever. We say the wrong things about people who are not like us. We post offensive stuff. We ride roughshod over others' feelings. Among friends, we too may complain of the noise and smells in crowded places.
If we are mature, decent people, when others are hurt and we are called to order for our words, we acknowledge the fault, and say sorry. Sometimes, the apology comes out all wrong. We retreat, and then we may try to say sorry again.
Mr Casey has done all that. He has lost his job and his family their peace of mind.
As Singaporeans, I hope more of us will be able to forgive those who insult us.
When outsiders attack a close-knit group, there may be a natural instinct to return insult with abuse, to escalate from verbal contempt to psychological harassment and threats of physical harm.
As a proud people of a young nation, we love our country and way of life - smells and all - with the ferocious love of a lioness for her cub. We may diss our beloved cub all we want - that is the prerogative and privilege of nationality - but woe betide others who dare breathe a negative word of her.
I like that proud spirit of Singaporeans who rush out to speak up on behalf of the "poor people" that Mr Casey ridiculed.
But I also hope we can see that some have gone overboard with their retaliation, if they turn abusive or threaten harm.
We do not condone the insult; we may throw back a few choice ones for good measure. But we should not condone personal abuse or violent threats hurled at the one doing the insulting. And certainly not at his loved ones.
We should have the self-confidence and the maturity to see that by showing contempt for and mocking ordinary people, Mr Casey has insulted and disrespected himself more than he has Singaporeans. By his own hand, in his own words, he has shown the world what an intolerant person he is, chockful of conceit.
We can then respond more in sorrow than in anger.
In any case, if his latest apology is sincere - unlike the earlier one issued through a public relations company - he is having his own personal epiphany.
What about us Singaporeans? Perhaps we too need to do some self-reflection.
Can we be a little less prickly when others poke fun at us? Can we learn to fight back online, without resorting to personal attacks, vulgarities or threats of harm?
Do we have the grace to accept an apology and forgive?
And to say: This man, who is our guest, has returned hospitality with insult. He has done us wrong, but he has apologised and is paying the price.
Enough is enough.
[email protected]
