Singaporean model seen as law unto selfishness
26th January 2008, 15:00 WST
Just lift up the edges of the law and order debate in Australia and it doesn’t take long for Singapore to be brought into the argument.
There’s a big wedge of Australians who hold up Singapore as a model for a civil society. They go there on shopping holidays, like what they see and come home full of praise.
“Why don’t we do things like Singapore?” they cry.
But characteristics such as law and order are generally part of a much wider social picture and cherry-picking one part without reference to the rest doesn’t make much sense.
Perth journalist Rodney King lived and worked in Singapore for 15 years and returned home in 2004 not liking a lot of what he had seen.
King, who started his career on The West Australian in 1970, has written a book, The Singapore Miracle: Myth and Reality, which not only questions many Western perceptions about the city-state, but also the way the place perceives and promotes itself.
King’s book about a close neighbour makes interesting reading on the eve of our national day. His incisive analysis of a regional culture immediately sets the reader to making comparisons with our own.
Social liberals in the West have always been critical of the authoritarian streak in Singapore’s government, but that is not the focus of King’s book. He looks at the substantial disconnect between Singapore’s economic reputation and its reality.
Rather than a super-efficient private enterprise success story, King paints Singapore as a dependent and under-developed country dominated and propped up by state-controlled enterprises.
He also questions whether the so-called Singapore Miracle is evenly spread, with a claim that at least half the population is poor.
In the very first words written in the book, a dedication inside the front cover, the author displays some jaundice towards Singapore:
“This book is dedicated to Singapore’s Samsui women. They came from China and laboured long and hard for low pay in miserable conditions to build modern Singapore. When they were too old to work their adopted country let them live their final years in poverty and deprivation. The Singapore Miracle did little for them.”
Singaporeans are notoriously prickly about criticism — and there is no shortage of it in King’s book — so it’s not surprising that only two of the island’s bookshops stock it. However, it seems to have been more warmly received over the causeway in Malaysia where criticising Singapore is a pastime.
King meticulously references his sharp attacks on Singapore’s claims to efficiency and productivity, but it’s his reflections on the locals’ attitudes that makes the most interesting reading.
In one chapter he examines a Singapore custom called kiasu, which is a Chinese word meaning “fear of missing out”. King says that kiasuism is a central, and not very attractive, feature of the Singaporean personality. In Singlish, the local bastardised form of English, it is seen in the often-used phrase “everything must also have”.
“Key features of the kiasu personality are greed, materialism, selfishness, striving to constantly get something for nothing, insensitivity to others feelings, paranoia, an obsessive desire to maximise every advantage from a business deal or friendship and a deep fear of failure,” King writes.
“Not only many Westerners, but more sensitive and aware Singaporeans, deplore the kiasu personality.”
And King quotes one, Straits Times columnist Goh Buck Song, who says that the characteristic arose from “the nation’s uneasy infancy and awkward adolescence”.
“It is time to recognise kiasuism for what it is: an awful social disease of self-centred disregard for community that will infect wherever allowed to and retard the republic’s progress towards a cultured society,” Goh wrote.
I was taken with this scarifying look at a national feature and immediately wondered how such criticism of Australian characteristics would go down in this country. Some of those key features seemed unnervingly close to home in modern Australia.
The growing materialism and consumerism of Australian society, much of it based on baby-boomer affluence, but now being overtaken by Gen X and Gen Y values, would make fine fodder for Rodney King’s gimlet-eyed analysis.
King gives many delicious examples of kiasu in practice such as shareholders at annual general meetings riotously raiding the buffet tables. But none is so potent as the story about the 18-year-old student who won the National Mandarin Elocution Competition with a defence of kiasuism.
“We cannot afford to lose,” King quotes the winner as saying. “Therefore we must try to excel in the kiasu role.”
“Depressing stuff,” comments King. But he takes his study of the phenomenon to a wider view, in keeping with the broad examination he pursues of Singapore’s real economic story.
“The paranoia that kiasuism generates undermines trust and discourages the sharing of information and resources in ways that reduce productivity in organisations,” he says.
“Such small-minded greed and selfishness within work groups damage team morale and breed further distrust, while the kiasu fear of failure cripples innovation and productivity because of the risk-averse behaviour it encourages.”
Which is, I suppose, stuff we all need to know given the predatory interest of Singapore state-backed companies in Australian assets, most recently our airlines and telcos.
But King doesn’t spare Singaporean companies either in his critique. “The local private sector, normally the seedbed of innovation in most market economies, is stunted and starved of venture capital,” he says.
“The country’s capacity for indigenous research and development and entrepreneurial and innovative endeavours remains limited.
“Heavy state control of the economy is exercised through an extensive layer of state enterprises. The state imposes this control through layers of red tape.
“The Government also manages a big chunk of the people’s savings through forced savings . . . and owns 72 per cent of the city-state’s land. Moreover, the Government controls the unions and most of the labour force.
“Equally mythical are Singapore’s claims to being transparent. Nothing could be more untrue. The operations of Singapore’s Government and bureaucracy are swathed in secrecy.”
King’s book is highly detailed and at times heavy on economics as he pulls apart the statistics he says Singapore generates to sustain “the myth”.
But overall it’s a very readable dissection of a place that has loomed large in our history.
However, you can’t help wondering how Australia would fare under the same ruthless scrutiny.
The Singapore Miracle: Myth and Reality, Insight Press, Perth. $49.95.
[email protected] Letters for publication: [email protected]
PAUL MURRAY
26th January 2008, 15:00 WST
Just lift up the edges of the law and order debate in Australia and it doesn’t take long for Singapore to be brought into the argument.
There’s a big wedge of Australians who hold up Singapore as a model for a civil society. They go there on shopping holidays, like what they see and come home full of praise.
“Why don’t we do things like Singapore?” they cry.
But characteristics such as law and order are generally part of a much wider social picture and cherry-picking one part without reference to the rest doesn’t make much sense.
Perth journalist Rodney King lived and worked in Singapore for 15 years and returned home in 2004 not liking a lot of what he had seen.
King, who started his career on The West Australian in 1970, has written a book, The Singapore Miracle: Myth and Reality, which not only questions many Western perceptions about the city-state, but also the way the place perceives and promotes itself.
King’s book about a close neighbour makes interesting reading on the eve of our national day. His incisive analysis of a regional culture immediately sets the reader to making comparisons with our own.
Social liberals in the West have always been critical of the authoritarian streak in Singapore’s government, but that is not the focus of King’s book. He looks at the substantial disconnect between Singapore’s economic reputation and its reality.
Rather than a super-efficient private enterprise success story, King paints Singapore as a dependent and under-developed country dominated and propped up by state-controlled enterprises.
He also questions whether the so-called Singapore Miracle is evenly spread, with a claim that at least half the population is poor.
In the very first words written in the book, a dedication inside the front cover, the author displays some jaundice towards Singapore:
“This book is dedicated to Singapore’s Samsui women. They came from China and laboured long and hard for low pay in miserable conditions to build modern Singapore. When they were too old to work their adopted country let them live their final years in poverty and deprivation. The Singapore Miracle did little for them.”
Singaporeans are notoriously prickly about criticism — and there is no shortage of it in King’s book — so it’s not surprising that only two of the island’s bookshops stock it. However, it seems to have been more warmly received over the causeway in Malaysia where criticising Singapore is a pastime.
King meticulously references his sharp attacks on Singapore’s claims to efficiency and productivity, but it’s his reflections on the locals’ attitudes that makes the most interesting reading.
In one chapter he examines a Singapore custom called kiasu, which is a Chinese word meaning “fear of missing out”. King says that kiasuism is a central, and not very attractive, feature of the Singaporean personality. In Singlish, the local bastardised form of English, it is seen in the often-used phrase “everything must also have”.
“Key features of the kiasu personality are greed, materialism, selfishness, striving to constantly get something for nothing, insensitivity to others feelings, paranoia, an obsessive desire to maximise every advantage from a business deal or friendship and a deep fear of failure,” King writes.
“Not only many Westerners, but more sensitive and aware Singaporeans, deplore the kiasu personality.”
And King quotes one, Straits Times columnist Goh Buck Song, who says that the characteristic arose from “the nation’s uneasy infancy and awkward adolescence”.
“It is time to recognise kiasuism for what it is: an awful social disease of self-centred disregard for community that will infect wherever allowed to and retard the republic’s progress towards a cultured society,” Goh wrote.
I was taken with this scarifying look at a national feature and immediately wondered how such criticism of Australian characteristics would go down in this country. Some of those key features seemed unnervingly close to home in modern Australia.
The growing materialism and consumerism of Australian society, much of it based on baby-boomer affluence, but now being overtaken by Gen X and Gen Y values, would make fine fodder for Rodney King’s gimlet-eyed analysis.
King gives many delicious examples of kiasu in practice such as shareholders at annual general meetings riotously raiding the buffet tables. But none is so potent as the story about the 18-year-old student who won the National Mandarin Elocution Competition with a defence of kiasuism.
“We cannot afford to lose,” King quotes the winner as saying. “Therefore we must try to excel in the kiasu role.”
“Depressing stuff,” comments King. But he takes his study of the phenomenon to a wider view, in keeping with the broad examination he pursues of Singapore’s real economic story.
“The paranoia that kiasuism generates undermines trust and discourages the sharing of information and resources in ways that reduce productivity in organisations,” he says.
“Such small-minded greed and selfishness within work groups damage team morale and breed further distrust, while the kiasu fear of failure cripples innovation and productivity because of the risk-averse behaviour it encourages.”
Which is, I suppose, stuff we all need to know given the predatory interest of Singapore state-backed companies in Australian assets, most recently our airlines and telcos.
But King doesn’t spare Singaporean companies either in his critique. “The local private sector, normally the seedbed of innovation in most market economies, is stunted and starved of venture capital,” he says.
“The country’s capacity for indigenous research and development and entrepreneurial and innovative endeavours remains limited.
“Heavy state control of the economy is exercised through an extensive layer of state enterprises. The state imposes this control through layers of red tape.
“The Government also manages a big chunk of the people’s savings through forced savings . . . and owns 72 per cent of the city-state’s land. Moreover, the Government controls the unions and most of the labour force.
“Equally mythical are Singapore’s claims to being transparent. Nothing could be more untrue. The operations of Singapore’s Government and bureaucracy are swathed in secrecy.”
King’s book is highly detailed and at times heavy on economics as he pulls apart the statistics he says Singapore generates to sustain “the myth”.
But overall it’s a very readable dissection of a place that has loomed large in our history.
However, you can’t help wondering how Australia would fare under the same ruthless scrutiny.
The Singapore Miracle: Myth and Reality, Insight Press, Perth. $49.95.
[email protected] Letters for publication: [email protected]
PAUL MURRAY
