Showing posts with label Sad Shit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sad Shit. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
那就這樣吧
The mark of true responsibility isn't what you can do when you have absolute control over everything in your life - it's what you do when you don't have any control.
It is drying the tears of your loved one when she tells you she loves someone else. It is the kindness in letting go. It is the dignity of doing what needs to be done. It is the million tiny acts to acknowledge that your love isn't at an end, even if your time together is.
It's moving on and staying still at the same time.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Josie and the DBS Credit Card Boycott
I've been chewing over the morality of the DBS Card Boycott for a while.
I think this video will probably do a better job of summarising my thoughts than anything else.
The mistake that many (including myself) make is treating big organisations like DBS as individual organisms. I especially have that problem because I've had the seperate legal entity doctrine drilled into me since 3rd year of law school.
This is a fiction. The operational reality is that a company is defined by its people. Furthermore, the higher up you go, the greater the influence this person has on thoughts and philosophy of the company.
In many senses, an organisation (or subset of an organisation) takes on the identity of its leader. Think Bill Gates, and the Evil Microsoft Empire. On a more local note, think TSMP. I'm willing to wager that all of the senior management of the company have cell group and prayer meetings at lunch time, and those who don't never make it to senior management.
Let's add another thought into the equation - the role of large organisations in society, and what it really means when a consumer buys a product. It's fairly undeniable that large organisations exert a large footprint in society. In many ways, the consumer's choice of which large organisation to support reflects on which message they want to support too.
Let's take an example - when I support Gloria Jean coffee, I would be supporting the fact that Gloria Jean Coffee uses my dollars to support some dubious Christian practices. That's a clear cut example. A less clear cut example would be the support of Apple over IBM - for the longest time, the choice of using Mac's was intimately connected to the objection over Microsoft's OS dominance.
Putting these thoughts together, I think it's pretty legitimate for someone to boycott DBS Credit Cards based on Josie's actions. Rejecting the product would be a pretty good way of saying that (1) you don't condone DBS putting Josie in a leadership position where she can influence the "personality" of DBS marketing and (2) you don't condone Josie's individual actions, and want to stick it where it hurts - her job performance review.
Think of what I've written, and then think of that Argentinian Transexual applying for a bank loan in a department run by Josie. Think of the reaction that she would be getting, and think whether you want to condone such a message.
I think this video will probably do a better job of summarising my thoughts than anything else.
The mistake that many (including myself) make is treating big organisations like DBS as individual organisms. I especially have that problem because I've had the seperate legal entity doctrine drilled into me since 3rd year of law school.
This is a fiction. The operational reality is that a company is defined by its people. Furthermore, the higher up you go, the greater the influence this person has on thoughts and philosophy of the company.
In many senses, an organisation (or subset of an organisation) takes on the identity of its leader. Think Bill Gates, and the Evil Microsoft Empire. On a more local note, think TSMP. I'm willing to wager that all of the senior management of the company have cell group and prayer meetings at lunch time, and those who don't never make it to senior management.
Let's add another thought into the equation - the role of large organisations in society, and what it really means when a consumer buys a product. It's fairly undeniable that large organisations exert a large footprint in society. In many ways, the consumer's choice of which large organisation to support reflects on which message they want to support too.
Let's take an example - when I support Gloria Jean coffee, I would be supporting the fact that Gloria Jean Coffee uses my dollars to support some dubious Christian practices. That's a clear cut example. A less clear cut example would be the support of Apple over IBM - for the longest time, the choice of using Mac's was intimately connected to the objection over Microsoft's OS dominance.
Putting these thoughts together, I think it's pretty legitimate for someone to boycott DBS Credit Cards based on Josie's actions. Rejecting the product would be a pretty good way of saying that (1) you don't condone DBS putting Josie in a leadership position where she can influence the "personality" of DBS marketing and (2) you don't condone Josie's individual actions, and want to stick it where it hurts - her job performance review.
Think of what I've written, and then think of that Argentinian Transexual applying for a bank loan in a department run by Josie. Think of the reaction that she would be getting, and think whether you want to condone such a message.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
The Authoritarians - AWARE Edition
To those who have been following the AWARE saga, please read this netbook by Professor Bob Altemeyer, called "The Authoritarians". It's pretty good describing some of the behaviour that went on during the AWARE EGM by the New Guard.
Pretty chilling, if you ask me.
Pretty chilling, if you ask me.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Of Faith and Gaming
I'm writing this post for two reasons (i) I received an invitation to go visit a church I haven't been back to in 15 years from a friend who doesn't know my history with that church and (ii) another friend is writing his master's thesis on RPG's, the pen and paper kind.
How are these two events even related?
Read on.
************
I started playing Dungeons and Dragons at 7. I played it out of the back of a school bus, and the DM was a friend's brother. My first ever game was as a Magic-User, out of the Dungeons and Dragons Red Box Set. In many ways, Dungeons and Dragons was my first real hobby. Everything that came after, the avid reading, the comics, the drama, the computer gaming, the swordfighting, it all sprang from my love for pen-and-paper RPG's. Arguably, I owe a lot of my thoroughness and skill in law to my love for debating rules in Dungeons and Dragons.
From there, my first gaming group from Primary 2 to 6 was lead mostly by my then-best friend. He introduced me to the wider world of Pen-and-Paper Role Playing Games. My second game, and the one that is still my favourite, is Marvel Super Heroes, then TMNT, then Ninja and Superspies. I remember skipping lunches and saving up pocket money and gorging myself on dinner when I got home to afford the books. I still have them somewhere.
I gave myself gastric by the time I was 12.
I remembered that my gaming group spanned almost half my entire class, and after school we'd run monster marathon sessions where one group would take on another group. It was pretty magical.
Then I went to secondary school.
You see, my P6 class was incredibly bright. A full half of them went into GEP. Many of them went to RI. The other half went to ACS, and we got split up into many different classes. In a year, from 12 to 13, all the people I knew and loved and were cool with suddenly turned into a class of hostile people, most of whom I barely knew, many of whom tormented me endlessly. I got shot at with paper pellets when I got off the school bus every day. That's how bad it got.
I remembered that I met a pretty inspirational teacher back then. He seemed to be the only person that would give a damn, and under his influence I started going to church, and converted.
I don't know if anyone remembers but during the late 80's and early 90's, there was a satanist scare involving Dungeons and Dragons. I must have been Christian for about a year or two back then. I remember the event that finally stopped me going was when the teacher tried to "counsel" me into stopping the "black magic practice" of Dungeons and Dragons.
On a related note, I also remembered how, suddenly, having parents that were Buddhist and being unbaptised were also looked on unfavourably, just because I played Dungeons and Dragons.
It was the first of many tests of faith I got, and also the event that built a lifelong distrust of Christians who were took quick to condemn others.
**********
I was fortunate that I managed to find friends that gave me hope during this very dark period of my life. These people literally watched me grow up from a gawky teenager to a gawky almost-adult. They introduced me to books and writers that I've never heard of, but swear by these days. They also gave me my first real writing gig. Four letters made a world of difference.
This group, and the offshot gaming group that came with it, formed the foundation of my gaming experience for a good 7 years, from 14 to 21. The game ended, as it must, when several members started getting married and having kids.
Along the way I met some people at Thomson CC. I was there first and foremost to interview the then-president, but we ended up being pretty good friends. The Thomson CC crowd formed the nucleus of my next gaming group, and some of its members are now my godbrothers through my mom. One in particular, though, is responsible for some of the worst heartache I've ever felt.
This group still games with me now, at a place that they have gamed at for the past 10 years or so. The group, like the members, have grown propsperous, experimented with different styles and genres and have generally seen the whole gamut of gaming, and reverted back to its core - good characters, good storytelling.
Except that I'm now at the helm. I don't game much nowadays - by choice, I'm now the storyteller.
*************
Why do I still game? I think the answer should be obvious but here it is.
Without it, I would never have found friends that I care so much about.
Without it, I would never have questioned my faith at so young an age. Without those questions, I would never have known what it was like to be an underdog, or to have to find and refind faith, over and over again.
Without it, I would never have been half the man I am now.
Without it, I would not be me.
How are these two events even related?
Read on.
************
I started playing Dungeons and Dragons at 7. I played it out of the back of a school bus, and the DM was a friend's brother. My first ever game was as a Magic-User, out of the Dungeons and Dragons Red Box Set. In many ways, Dungeons and Dragons was my first real hobby. Everything that came after, the avid reading, the comics, the drama, the computer gaming, the swordfighting, it all sprang from my love for pen-and-paper RPG's. Arguably, I owe a lot of my thoroughness and skill in law to my love for debating rules in Dungeons and Dragons.
From there, my first gaming group from Primary 2 to 6 was lead mostly by my then-best friend. He introduced me to the wider world of Pen-and-Paper Role Playing Games. My second game, and the one that is still my favourite, is Marvel Super Heroes, then TMNT, then Ninja and Superspies. I remember skipping lunches and saving up pocket money and gorging myself on dinner when I got home to afford the books. I still have them somewhere.
I gave myself gastric by the time I was 12.
I remembered that my gaming group spanned almost half my entire class, and after school we'd run monster marathon sessions where one group would take on another group. It was pretty magical.
Then I went to secondary school.
You see, my P6 class was incredibly bright. A full half of them went into GEP. Many of them went to RI. The other half went to ACS, and we got split up into many different classes. In a year, from 12 to 13, all the people I knew and loved and were cool with suddenly turned into a class of hostile people, most of whom I barely knew, many of whom tormented me endlessly. I got shot at with paper pellets when I got off the school bus every day. That's how bad it got.
I remembered that I met a pretty inspirational teacher back then. He seemed to be the only person that would give a damn, and under his influence I started going to church, and converted.
I don't know if anyone remembers but during the late 80's and early 90's, there was a satanist scare involving Dungeons and Dragons. I must have been Christian for about a year or two back then. I remember the event that finally stopped me going was when the teacher tried to "counsel" me into stopping the "black magic practice" of Dungeons and Dragons.
On a related note, I also remembered how, suddenly, having parents that were Buddhist and being unbaptised were also looked on unfavourably, just because I played Dungeons and Dragons.
It was the first of many tests of faith I got, and also the event that built a lifelong distrust of Christians who were took quick to condemn others.
**********
I was fortunate that I managed to find friends that gave me hope during this very dark period of my life. These people literally watched me grow up from a gawky teenager to a gawky almost-adult. They introduced me to books and writers that I've never heard of, but swear by these days. They also gave me my first real writing gig. Four letters made a world of difference.
This group, and the offshot gaming group that came with it, formed the foundation of my gaming experience for a good 7 years, from 14 to 21. The game ended, as it must, when several members started getting married and having kids.
Along the way I met some people at Thomson CC. I was there first and foremost to interview the then-president, but we ended up being pretty good friends. The Thomson CC crowd formed the nucleus of my next gaming group, and some of its members are now my godbrothers through my mom. One in particular, though, is responsible for some of the worst heartache I've ever felt.
This group still games with me now, at a place that they have gamed at for the past 10 years or so. The group, like the members, have grown propsperous, experimented with different styles and genres and have generally seen the whole gamut of gaming, and reverted back to its core - good characters, good storytelling.
Except that I'm now at the helm. I don't game much nowadays - by choice, I'm now the storyteller.
*************
Why do I still game? I think the answer should be obvious but here it is.
Without it, I would never have found friends that I care so much about.
Without it, I would never have questioned my faith at so young an age. Without those questions, I would never have known what it was like to be an underdog, or to have to find and refind faith, over and over again.
Without it, I would never have been half the man I am now.
Without it, I would not be me.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Because...
Because I've been fooled too many times already, and I won't be fooled again.
Because there's no deception worse than self-deception.
Because I won't unconditionally accept someone who takes but does not give.
Because one does not assess merit by all the wrongs I've committed over all the right things you've done.
Because the number things you've done right by me has been painfully small that even THAT comparison is only marginally in your favour.
Because a man that you've taken shameless advantage of for 12 years no longer exists and is finally willing to stand up to you and cut you out of my life.
Because you are a bully, and I hate bullies.
Because you are a coward, and I hate cowards.
Because when push came to shove, you neither pushed nor shoved. You ran away.
Because I've lost friends because of you. Not one. Not two. Multiple.
Because, in spite of everything, I've given you chances that you never even recognised as chances.
Because you never said sorry, and meant it. Or even remembered that you said sorry.
Because you are a parasite of the worst kind.
Go run back to the people that you can deceive into thinking that you are a decent human being. You don't fool me. Never again.
Because there's no deception worse than self-deception.
Because I won't unconditionally accept someone who takes but does not give.
Because one does not assess merit by all the wrongs I've committed over all the right things you've done.
Because the number things you've done right by me has been painfully small that even THAT comparison is only marginally in your favour.
Because a man that you've taken shameless advantage of for 12 years no longer exists and is finally willing to stand up to you and cut you out of my life.
Because you are a bully, and I hate bullies.
Because you are a coward, and I hate cowards.
Because when push came to shove, you neither pushed nor shoved. You ran away.
Because I've lost friends because of you. Not one. Not two. Multiple.
Because, in spite of everything, I've given you chances that you never even recognised as chances.
Because you never said sorry, and meant it. Or even remembered that you said sorry.
Because you are a parasite of the worst kind.
Go run back to the people that you can deceive into thinking that you are a decent human being. You don't fool me. Never again.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Appendicitis and Accidents
Thanks to all who have been asking about my mom. She is fine now, if a little cantankerous.
I'm still not quite sure how it happened, except that at about 2 pm last Wednesday, I received a call from my dad on my mom's phone telling me she's being warded for appendicitis. That's the start of a supposedly-relaxing-but-actually-hectic weekend.
Apart from a scare with her blood pressure dropping like a rock on the first night (to which my brother quipped that my presence probably saved her life by raising her blood pressure), she is well and without complications. The doctor told her that they lasered off the appendix just in time.
She is now resting at home. I've moved back to live with her for a week. She and I exchange evil glares in the occassional battle of wills whenever I catch her doing something she isn't supposed to be doing. Lifting heavy things, puttering around needlessly, sneaking prohibited snacks away - the list is pretty endless. My dad and brother have declared themselves above it all.
Fun and games for the next week.
*************
I spent some time over the weekend on the Causeway. My SO and I were travelling up for the weekend to get some stuff done, and we got into a minor, bumper scratching accident.
Which should have been resolved easily, except that (i) I was in a murderous mood by that time because of the long jam on the causeway and (ii) I really disliked the attitude of the guy when he got out of the car.
I have a thing against elderly men trying to take advantage of shock and awe to get a private settlement in their favour. I consider these guys bullies of the highest caliber. I can spot that kind of driver a mile away.
There are many ways to resolve the incident - some good, some not so good. My personal approach is that no matter how minor the accident, the first thing I will do is to check if anyone is injured or in shock. Honestly, there is no telling how minor or serious a fender-bender is until you check for injuries, and I never take this shit for granted. Then and only then do I check the damage to the car.
This particular elderly man didn't. He opened in the most politely aggressive way possible short of actual yelling - he asked immediately to see the license and registration of my SO, but without offering his own. This is a very subtle and firm indication that (i) he wants to be in charge of the process and (ii) that you are the one at fault, thank you very much.
All this got my blood boiling, so I got out of the car and started my discussions with him by pointing out to him that it wasn't clear cut that my SO was at fault.
Thing degenerated pretty rapidly from there. My offer to let our insurance companies settle this was refused, on the grounds that my SO was driving a Malaysian car - another indication to me that this guy just wants a quick settlement in his favour that I wasn't willing to give at that stage, seeing that (i) he was asking for quite a bit of money for small damage and (ii) I'm pretty sure that this guy was at fault even though the insurance company would probably disagree with me.
Seeing as he was unwilling to let the insurance settle this, we started the blame game, and ended with him threatening to scratch my SO's car here and now - just as an ICA officer was walking towards us, and well within earshot of him.
Things went south quickly once I asked him very loudly and clearly if he was threatening me in front of a uniformed officer. The ICA got involved and referred the matter to the Police. The Police got involved and tried to defuse the situation - which wasn't happening because Elderly Man was insistent that he did nothing wrong and said I was accusing him of something that he didn't do.
Except he did. Except that what he told the officers and what he told me were different things. Except that I had a very low tolerance to people who will twist what happened to their advantage and appear the victim. So I repeated what he said again. Loudly. In front of the police officer, who was valiently trying to calm both of us down.
My SO stepped in and defused the situation, by telling me to shut up. By this point, I was damn sick of hearing this guy go on and on about what a gentlemen he is and how all he really wanted was an apology (which was absolute bulocks - he never mentioned an apology until much later). I went down to the ICA station and got down the name of the officer who might act as a possible witness.
After I got back, I found out that my SO had settled the matter amicably, with neither side admitting fault or paying the other. We exchanged numbers, and I listened to a whole load of shite from Elderly Man about being gracious and not telling police officers that I had been threatened. I wisely shut up this time, and just let it go, given the matter was already settled.
Elderly Man, if you're reading this, bullocks to you and your fake integrity. If you had any at all, you would not have acted the way you did. If you want to try anything funny, I want you to know that I still have no qualms about making a police case over what you said.
Let's see how much integrity you have when the police get involved in this.
I'm still not quite sure how it happened, except that at about 2 pm last Wednesday, I received a call from my dad on my mom's phone telling me she's being warded for appendicitis. That's the start of a supposedly-relaxing-but-actually-hectic weekend.
Apart from a scare with her blood pressure dropping like a rock on the first night (to which my brother quipped that my presence probably saved her life by raising her blood pressure), she is well and without complications. The doctor told her that they lasered off the appendix just in time.
She is now resting at home. I've moved back to live with her for a week. She and I exchange evil glares in the occassional battle of wills whenever I catch her doing something she isn't supposed to be doing. Lifting heavy things, puttering around needlessly, sneaking prohibited snacks away - the list is pretty endless. My dad and brother have declared themselves above it all.
Fun and games for the next week.
*************
I spent some time over the weekend on the Causeway. My SO and I were travelling up for the weekend to get some stuff done, and we got into a minor, bumper scratching accident.
Which should have been resolved easily, except that (i) I was in a murderous mood by that time because of the long jam on the causeway and (ii) I really disliked the attitude of the guy when he got out of the car.
I have a thing against elderly men trying to take advantage of shock and awe to get a private settlement in their favour. I consider these guys bullies of the highest caliber. I can spot that kind of driver a mile away.
There are many ways to resolve the incident - some good, some not so good. My personal approach is that no matter how minor the accident, the first thing I will do is to check if anyone is injured or in shock. Honestly, there is no telling how minor or serious a fender-bender is until you check for injuries, and I never take this shit for granted. Then and only then do I check the damage to the car.
This particular elderly man didn't. He opened in the most politely aggressive way possible short of actual yelling - he asked immediately to see the license and registration of my SO, but without offering his own. This is a very subtle and firm indication that (i) he wants to be in charge of the process and (ii) that you are the one at fault, thank you very much.
All this got my blood boiling, so I got out of the car and started my discussions with him by pointing out to him that it wasn't clear cut that my SO was at fault.
Thing degenerated pretty rapidly from there. My offer to let our insurance companies settle this was refused, on the grounds that my SO was driving a Malaysian car - another indication to me that this guy just wants a quick settlement in his favour that I wasn't willing to give at that stage, seeing that (i) he was asking for quite a bit of money for small damage and (ii) I'm pretty sure that this guy was at fault even though the insurance company would probably disagree with me.
Seeing as he was unwilling to let the insurance settle this, we started the blame game, and ended with him threatening to scratch my SO's car here and now - just as an ICA officer was walking towards us, and well within earshot of him.
Things went south quickly once I asked him very loudly and clearly if he was threatening me in front of a uniformed officer. The ICA got involved and referred the matter to the Police. The Police got involved and tried to defuse the situation - which wasn't happening because Elderly Man was insistent that he did nothing wrong and said I was accusing him of something that he didn't do.
Except he did. Except that what he told the officers and what he told me were different things. Except that I had a very low tolerance to people who will twist what happened to their advantage and appear the victim. So I repeated what he said again. Loudly. In front of the police officer, who was valiently trying to calm both of us down.
My SO stepped in and defused the situation, by telling me to shut up. By this point, I was damn sick of hearing this guy go on and on about what a gentlemen he is and how all he really wanted was an apology (which was absolute bulocks - he never mentioned an apology until much later). I went down to the ICA station and got down the name of the officer who might act as a possible witness.
After I got back, I found out that my SO had settled the matter amicably, with neither side admitting fault or paying the other. We exchanged numbers, and I listened to a whole load of shite from Elderly Man about being gracious and not telling police officers that I had been threatened. I wisely shut up this time, and just let it go, given the matter was already settled.
Elderly Man, if you're reading this, bullocks to you and your fake integrity. If you had any at all, you would not have acted the way you did. If you want to try anything funny, I want you to know that I still have no qualms about making a police case over what you said.
Let's see how much integrity you have when the police get involved in this.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Overclocked
I just spent the last weekend in Muar, supposedly for a restful weeked. I ended up going there and rushing out some legal paperwork for my company. It wasn't pleasant to say the least. Apart from all the logistics issues that comes about when you go to a relatively less developed part of Malaysia,
The most traumatic part for me, though, was the use of a part of my brain that I try very hard not to use - the overclocked processor.
When I was still in legal practice, I was essentially thrown off the deep end and had to learn many complicated things by myself. To survive, I developed (or perhaps always had) the ability to accelerate my thought processes to a point where I can keep up with the deluge of information. Think of it as an adrenal stress "fight or flight" reaction, except it is completely focused on synthesizing and processing information (including, I might add, negotiation tactics).
The cost of this is that I literally shut down all other available functions. I don't eat, hardly sleep, pace around like a madman and do away with most social niceties like grooming and speaking like a human being. I also apparently give of this "fuck with me and you will die" aura.
The price of overclocking my processor this way is that it takes it toll on me. Physically, I end up in the state of physical exhaustion and starvation when it ends and I usually need a few days quiet rest after to get back to 100% again. Socially, it takes a while to repair the relationships damaged through my lack of social niceties.
The worst toll on me, though, is this spiritual chill I feel at the end of overclocking. It's not physical in any way. I just perceive the world as a cold and hostile place, like I'm suddenly and completely disconnected from everything. Nothing I eat tastes good. No gesture of kindness has an impact on me. Nothing.
I believe greatly in positive acts and positive karma. The problem with using this part of me is that it is fueled with anger, hate, and desperation of being caught in an untenable lonely situation. It infects my worldview and makes everything bleaker. Enough of this, and I revert back to negativity - something which I don't ever want to go back to.
And I have just taken another step back to it.
The most traumatic part for me, though, was the use of a part of my brain that I try very hard not to use - the overclocked processor.
When I was still in legal practice, I was essentially thrown off the deep end and had to learn many complicated things by myself. To survive, I developed (or perhaps always had) the ability to accelerate my thought processes to a point where I can keep up with the deluge of information. Think of it as an adrenal stress "fight or flight" reaction, except it is completely focused on synthesizing and processing information (including, I might add, negotiation tactics).
The cost of this is that I literally shut down all other available functions. I don't eat, hardly sleep, pace around like a madman and do away with most social niceties like grooming and speaking like a human being. I also apparently give of this "fuck with me and you will die" aura.
The price of overclocking my processor this way is that it takes it toll on me. Physically, I end up in the state of physical exhaustion and starvation when it ends and I usually need a few days quiet rest after to get back to 100% again. Socially, it takes a while to repair the relationships damaged through my lack of social niceties.
The worst toll on me, though, is this spiritual chill I feel at the end of overclocking. It's not physical in any way. I just perceive the world as a cold and hostile place, like I'm suddenly and completely disconnected from everything. Nothing I eat tastes good. No gesture of kindness has an impact on me. Nothing.
I believe greatly in positive acts and positive karma. The problem with using this part of me is that it is fueled with anger, hate, and desperation of being caught in an untenable lonely situation. It infects my worldview and makes everything bleaker. Enough of this, and I revert back to negativity - something which I don't ever want to go back to.
And I have just taken another step back to it.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The Malaysian Conumdrum
I've been following the discussion thread here at Mr Wang's. It's a discussion about why a Singapore PR/Malaysian citizen would not want to take up Singapore citizenship in order to enjoy the privileges here, and is instead asking for the Singapore Government to instead extend privileges to PR's.
Let me start with a couple of points - I don't think it's possible to generalise on whether a PR is here just to reap the economic benefits or whether they are here to stay. A lot depends on factors such as whether they own property back in Malaysia, and how badly they are being treated in Malaysia.
I just thought I'd share some of my experiences and hearsay that I've experienced. Hopefully it will give a new perspective on the situation.
**************
Some Malaysian PR's are here because they want to earn in SGD and spend in Ringgit. I don't think this is in itself bad. If Singaporeans themselves are complaining what a low wage they are earning, I certainly cannot blame Malaysians for wanting to optimise their earnings. If they are depressing the local wage by being present here, it must be that they aren't earning all that much either.
I've heard some stories from Malaysian colleagues that Singapore employers automatically propose lower salaries on seeing that they are from Malaysia. In some senses this is a double edged sword - yes they do have a competitive advantage in wages, but the wages they make are lower overall as compared to a Singaporean in a comparable job scope and industry.
***************
Some Malaysian PR's are here (or in other countries for that matter) because they are being victimised in their own countries. I've heard over the last year that the 30% ownership of companies by Bumiputra's have caused the Chinese business community to go into an uproar, to the extent of asking their children overseas to stay overseas, and slowly initiating a transfer of property over. Singapore, UK, America, Canada all feature heavily in places to "run to".
Apparently the Keris-waving incident has caused some problems among the Chinese community in Malaysia as well. The extent of that, I'm not sure.
What I do get a sense of in Malaysia is that minorities (i.e not Malay) are very skittish of their own homeland. Given a choice they would certainly not want to run to another country. However, the writing's on the wall, and they are certainly getting less and less welcome as Malaysia becomes increasingly unstable.
***************
I wish to touch on the issue of owning property in Malaysia too. A couple of months back a friend developer asked me if I was interested in purchasing some property. I humoured him of course, but I had no intention of buying the property. What I found out surprised me. I, too, received the same advice - that I should put the ownership under a Malaysian's name where possible. I also noticed the difference in mortgage rates offered to Malaysians and Singaporeans. It was a 5% differential, which amounts to quite a bit of money.
I am also told that there are certain bank accounts and investments in Malaysia that pay preferential interest rates, but only to Malaysians. From what I've gathered the differential is a couple of percentage points higher than what bank accounts usually pay. I guess this must be Malaysia's version of pork barrel politics but I'm not entirely sure.
***************
The long and short of these anecdotes is that I don't think the situation is as clear cut as what most netizens make it out to be. Sure, a lot of the reasons I've cited are economic and political, but I think these form a network of interacting wants, needs and emotions that make it the decision not to take Singapore citizenship very hard to untangle.
What really fascinates me is the fact that this PR, Adrian Gopal, would appeal to the Singapore Government on a public forum to make his life as a PR easier. What I do not understand is this - essentially, each person's problem is individual. What Mr Gopal is asking for is essentially a sweetener to make the decision to stay in Singapore easier.
I can only draw two possible conclusions from this (1) that Mr Gopal thinks he has a reasonable chance of success in his appeal and (2) that Mr Gopal is desperate, so even if he thinks he has no reasonable chance of success, he has to try to make this appeal.
If the first is true, then it exposes once and for all how vulnerable and dependent Singapore is on skilled labour, and the inadequacies of our own labour force in providing for Singapore's needs (for whatever reasons). If Mr Gopal thinks he has a reasonable chance of success, it must be because foreign labour has collectively got sufficient bargaining power to make the Singapore Government listen.
If this is the case, then there must be a failure of Singapore Government policy somewhere. If the issue is wage competitiveness, then the issue must be that the Singapore Government's policies in either education, labour or NS (or all three) does not make up for the differential in value offered by Singaporean labourers, as opposed to foreign labour.
If the second option is true, then this speaks a lot about the invisible plight of foreign labour in Singapore, and it behooves us, if we are to become a nation, to understand their plight and not dismiss them offhand.
Either way, there's more of a story to be told I'm sure.
Let me start with a couple of points - I don't think it's possible to generalise on whether a PR is here just to reap the economic benefits or whether they are here to stay. A lot depends on factors such as whether they own property back in Malaysia, and how badly they are being treated in Malaysia.
I just thought I'd share some of my experiences and hearsay that I've experienced. Hopefully it will give a new perspective on the situation.
**************
Some Malaysian PR's are here because they want to earn in SGD and spend in Ringgit. I don't think this is in itself bad. If Singaporeans themselves are complaining what a low wage they are earning, I certainly cannot blame Malaysians for wanting to optimise their earnings. If they are depressing the local wage by being present here, it must be that they aren't earning all that much either.
I've heard some stories from Malaysian colleagues that Singapore employers automatically propose lower salaries on seeing that they are from Malaysia. In some senses this is a double edged sword - yes they do have a competitive advantage in wages, but the wages they make are lower overall as compared to a Singaporean in a comparable job scope and industry.
***************
Some Malaysian PR's are here (or in other countries for that matter) because they are being victimised in their own countries. I've heard over the last year that the 30% ownership of companies by Bumiputra's have caused the Chinese business community to go into an uproar, to the extent of asking their children overseas to stay overseas, and slowly initiating a transfer of property over. Singapore, UK, America, Canada all feature heavily in places to "run to".
Apparently the Keris-waving incident has caused some problems among the Chinese community in Malaysia as well. The extent of that, I'm not sure.
What I do get a sense of in Malaysia is that minorities (i.e not Malay) are very skittish of their own homeland. Given a choice they would certainly not want to run to another country. However, the writing's on the wall, and they are certainly getting less and less welcome as Malaysia becomes increasingly unstable.
***************
I wish to touch on the issue of owning property in Malaysia too. A couple of months back a friend developer asked me if I was interested in purchasing some property. I humoured him of course, but I had no intention of buying the property. What I found out surprised me. I, too, received the same advice - that I should put the ownership under a Malaysian's name where possible. I also noticed the difference in mortgage rates offered to Malaysians and Singaporeans. It was a 5% differential, which amounts to quite a bit of money.
I am also told that there are certain bank accounts and investments in Malaysia that pay preferential interest rates, but only to Malaysians. From what I've gathered the differential is a couple of percentage points higher than what bank accounts usually pay. I guess this must be Malaysia's version of pork barrel politics but I'm not entirely sure.
***************
The long and short of these anecdotes is that I don't think the situation is as clear cut as what most netizens make it out to be. Sure, a lot of the reasons I've cited are economic and political, but I think these form a network of interacting wants, needs and emotions that make it the decision not to take Singapore citizenship very hard to untangle.
What really fascinates me is the fact that this PR, Adrian Gopal, would appeal to the Singapore Government on a public forum to make his life as a PR easier. What I do not understand is this - essentially, each person's problem is individual. What Mr Gopal is asking for is essentially a sweetener to make the decision to stay in Singapore easier.
I can only draw two possible conclusions from this (1) that Mr Gopal thinks he has a reasonable chance of success in his appeal and (2) that Mr Gopal is desperate, so even if he thinks he has no reasonable chance of success, he has to try to make this appeal.
If the first is true, then it exposes once and for all how vulnerable and dependent Singapore is on skilled labour, and the inadequacies of our own labour force in providing for Singapore's needs (for whatever reasons). If Mr Gopal thinks he has a reasonable chance of success, it must be because foreign labour has collectively got sufficient bargaining power to make the Singapore Government listen.
If this is the case, then there must be a failure of Singapore Government policy somewhere. If the issue is wage competitiveness, then the issue must be that the Singapore Government's policies in either education, labour or NS (or all three) does not make up for the differential in value offered by Singaporean labourers, as opposed to foreign labour.
If the second option is true, then this speaks a lot about the invisible plight of foreign labour in Singapore, and it behooves us, if we are to become a nation, to understand their plight and not dismiss them offhand.
Either way, there's more of a story to be told I'm sure.
Friday, January 23, 2009
In Defense of Defense Part II - Everybody Dies
I've been chewing through some of the comments that have been put on my blog from my entry. One of them fascinates me, so I will spend some time talking about it.
PanzerGrenadier wrote:
"The far greater price that we NSmen face is DEATH while serving the country."
He also wrote some stuff about the accidents happening in NS, and the risk of death in NS.
Let me start by saying, my utmost sympathies for those who have lost loved ones in the course of serving their NS. This post may offend you, so please don't read on.
**********
Death is inevitable. We all have to die some time, and the only question here is when, how and why. Those are the questions that we need to ask when trying to make MINDEF responsible for loss of life (or anything else for that matter).
I have some sympathy for MINDEF, not a whole lot, but some. The high-level problem that MINDEF faces is that it needs to impose regimentation and fairly rigourous training standards, while taking disproportionate amounts of liability for these standards.
In that sense, I can see why MINDEF would want to defend itself from liability in this way. It cannot be that MINDEF is legally culpable for every act within it's military premises. If a man keels over and dies while binging on cheap Tiger beer at the mess, it's going to be a stretch to argue that MINDEF is responsible.
On the other end of the spectrum, if someone gets squashed flat by a tank during exercise, why yes, MINDEF should be responsible.
What I'm trying to do here is to inject some sense into this issue - it cannot be that MINDEF is responsible for everything. Arguing along this line does not make sense, and in fact, demonstrates everything that I've argued in the previous post - that we are not in fact trying to get what is fair, but merely trying EVERY means to pin some fault, ANY fault on MINDEF. That makes us as bad as MINDEF is.
*************
What I -do- think will help NS safer is a Freedom of Information Act, and more frequent external audits. Take to point the issue of the NS man found mysteriously dead in a bunk. We don't know for sure the circumstances of his death. There isn't a way for finding this information out, so whatever MINDEF says will essentially become the "truth" for the purposes of liability.
Without a Freedom of Information Act, this kind of fact finding cannot be tested by external pressures. It enables the "cover-up" culture to continue, and weakens the credibility of everything MINDEF does.
I don't accept that everything MINDEF does is secret. Take the health of its NSMen for example. That information is fairly widely available in the public domain for the purposes of insurance, court cases etc. It cannot be that NS medical data is somehow special once it crosses the border of a military camp. In the event of a dispute, disclose that medical data.
The other method is to use external auditors to check accounts, training etc. I accept that this method has its limitations, in the sense that they can easily be undermined by whatever administrative roadblocks MINDEF chooses to throw up. However, the reverse side is true - the more admin roadblocks they throw up, the stupider they look when something eventually happens.
I'll get back to my writing about personal benefits (or lack thereof) of NS in a bit.
PanzerGrenadier wrote:
"The far greater price that we NSmen face is DEATH while serving the country."
He also wrote some stuff about the accidents happening in NS, and the risk of death in NS.
Let me start by saying, my utmost sympathies for those who have lost loved ones in the course of serving their NS. This post may offend you, so please don't read on.
**********
Death is inevitable. We all have to die some time, and the only question here is when, how and why. Those are the questions that we need to ask when trying to make MINDEF responsible for loss of life (or anything else for that matter).
I have some sympathy for MINDEF, not a whole lot, but some. The high-level problem that MINDEF faces is that it needs to impose regimentation and fairly rigourous training standards, while taking disproportionate amounts of liability for these standards.
In that sense, I can see why MINDEF would want to defend itself from liability in this way. It cannot be that MINDEF is legally culpable for every act within it's military premises. If a man keels over and dies while binging on cheap Tiger beer at the mess, it's going to be a stretch to argue that MINDEF is responsible.
On the other end of the spectrum, if someone gets squashed flat by a tank during exercise, why yes, MINDEF should be responsible.
What I'm trying to do here is to inject some sense into this issue - it cannot be that MINDEF is responsible for everything. Arguing along this line does not make sense, and in fact, demonstrates everything that I've argued in the previous post - that we are not in fact trying to get what is fair, but merely trying EVERY means to pin some fault, ANY fault on MINDEF. That makes us as bad as MINDEF is.
*************
What I -do- think will help NS safer is a Freedom of Information Act, and more frequent external audits. Take to point the issue of the NS man found mysteriously dead in a bunk. We don't know for sure the circumstances of his death. There isn't a way for finding this information out, so whatever MINDEF says will essentially become the "truth" for the purposes of liability.
Without a Freedom of Information Act, this kind of fact finding cannot be tested by external pressures. It enables the "cover-up" culture to continue, and weakens the credibility of everything MINDEF does.
I don't accept that everything MINDEF does is secret. Take the health of its NSMen for example. That information is fairly widely available in the public domain for the purposes of insurance, court cases etc. It cannot be that NS medical data is somehow special once it crosses the border of a military camp. In the event of a dispute, disclose that medical data.
The other method is to use external auditors to check accounts, training etc. I accept that this method has its limitations, in the sense that they can easily be undermined by whatever administrative roadblocks MINDEF chooses to throw up. However, the reverse side is true - the more admin roadblocks they throw up, the stupider they look when something eventually happens.
I'll get back to my writing about personal benefits (or lack thereof) of NS in a bit.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
In Defense of Defense
My experiences with NS and as a citizen soldier has lead me to question quite a bit about our national policy towards NS. Personally, I do not think it is NS per se that causes resentment among Singaporean males. It is a whole combination of factors.
The heart of the matter is that NS is a massive obligation with few benefits. When I say "benefit" I mean the whole gamut of benefit - financial, social, personal. I think enough has been discussed about financial benefit so I won't go there. What I will focus on is social and personal benefit.
My biggest gripe about NS is that it is viewed nationally not as a necessary sacrifice, but as a "haha-sucker" sort of obligation. Witness Taiwan - I am told merely wearing a uniform there raises your esteem in the eyes of the locals. A similar but more sombre zeitgeist pervades Israel, Finland and Switzerland. Why is this so?
The problem with Singapore is the issue of "us" and "them" isn't so clear cut. The "us" versus "them" mentality is encouraged, even inflammed, by government propaganda. The problem with encouraging this mentality is that this bleeds over to every aspect of life.
In short, what social benefit is there from serving NS? You don't get any respect out of it, you hardly get recognised for hard work, and if you do, in fact, put in hard work out of moral obligation, people laugh at you and call you a sucker.
***********
More on (lack of) personal benefits to NS in another instalment.
The heart of the matter is that NS is a massive obligation with few benefits. When I say "benefit" I mean the whole gamut of benefit - financial, social, personal. I think enough has been discussed about financial benefit so I won't go there. What I will focus on is social and personal benefit.
My biggest gripe about NS is that it is viewed nationally not as a necessary sacrifice, but as a "haha-sucker" sort of obligation. Witness Taiwan - I am told merely wearing a uniform there raises your esteem in the eyes of the locals. A similar but more sombre zeitgeist pervades Israel, Finland and Switzerland. Why is this so?
The problem with Singapore is the issue of "us" and "them" isn't so clear cut. The "us" versus "them" mentality is encouraged, even inflammed, by government propaganda. The problem with encouraging this mentality is that this bleeds over to every aspect of life.
- "Me" versus "the government", i.e what I can do to get out of NS in the first place?
- "Me" versus "everyone else in NS", i.e can I get other people to do my job in NS?
- "Me" versus "society" i.e Now that I have (on paper) served NS, what else can I get out of this obligation that ALL taxpayers have to bear?
In short, what social benefit is there from serving NS? You don't get any respect out of it, you hardly get recognised for hard work, and if you do, in fact, put in hard work out of moral obligation, people laugh at you and call you a sucker.
***********
More on (lack of) personal benefits to NS in another instalment.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Crazy Stupid Long
By request, I've decided to share my experiences with the crazy new Johor Checkpoint, from the bus taker's perspective. Suffice to say, I managed to get an eyeful of the suck that Cowboy Caleb's wife experienced.
I've take the bus into JB twice weekly, for the last year. For bus-takers, the old experience was fairly simple and no-fuss. Get on a bus at Kranji or Woodlands checkpoint (your pick), alight bus at Woodlands, alight again at the old Johor checkpoint, and from there either (i) hoof it to City Square or (ii) take the bus all the way to Larkin.
The new Johor checkpoint, in a word, sucks.
I've take the bus into JB twice weekly, for the last year. For bus-takers, the old experience was fairly simple and no-fuss. Get on a bus at Kranji or Woodlands checkpoint (your pick), alight bus at Woodlands, alight again at the old Johor checkpoint, and from there either (i) hoof it to City Square or (ii) take the bus all the way to Larkin.
The new Johor checkpoint, in a word, sucks.
- For one, the checkpoint is now located further away from the Causeway. Hoofing it from the checkpoint to City Square is about the same distance as just hoofing it across the Causeway.
- The only other exit point by foot is the Jalan Jim Quee. I checked out that exit, and since I don't know where the damn thing leads, it might as well be in the middle of nowhere.
- The bus platforms are now split to Platform A and Platform B. The split seems entirely arbitrary. Previously, all SBS buses used (roughly) the same platform, so if all you wanted was to get to Kranji or Woodlands Checkpoint, you could take your pick of 160, 170, 950 and (if you were so inclined) the Causeway Express. Now, 950 and the Causeway Express is on a different platform from 170 and 160. It makes no sense.
- The 160 and 170 platform is the furthest platform away from the elevator. I'm not kidding. The SJE has a closer platform than the 160 and 170.
- There are something like 20 immigrations stations at the new checkpoint and the queue is still moving like a snail. To be fair, it seems like the officers are actually checking passports now instead of waving a whole bunch of people through the lines. Still, it's excruciatingly slow.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
RIP - Ms Lo Hwei Yen
Sometimes I get forcibly reminded what a small place Singapore is.
In spite of the fact that she must be a few years my junior at law school, I don't claim to know Ms Lo well - in fact, the first and only time I spoke to her was at a mutual friend's wedding. That was about a year ago. She struck me as a friendly, intelligent person. I didn't speak to her that much, only enough to make polite conversation.
And now, she is gone, a senseless victim to a horrible, horrible act.
Farewell, Ms Lo. I hope you are in a better place now.
In spite of the fact that she must be a few years my junior at law school, I don't claim to know Ms Lo well - in fact, the first and only time I spoke to her was at a mutual friend's wedding. That was about a year ago. She struck me as a friendly, intelligent person. I didn't speak to her that much, only enough to make polite conversation.
And now, she is gone, a senseless victim to a horrible, horrible act.
Farewell, Ms Lo. I hope you are in a better place now.
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Ten Commandments, Redux
This is seriously too funny not to share.
A bunch of Christians have gathered at the famous golden bull statue outside of the NYSE to pray for economic recovery. Except that I am pretty sure the Ten Commandments have something against this exact situation.
No, really. Golden. Bull. Praying. I'm expecting Charlton Heston to walk out of the NYSE Building any minute bearing clay tablets.
Here's the video.
(HT: Zach, who linked me to Wonkette.)
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
A Note from Future Self to Past Self
Tor,
I know the blog title is a bit dramatic. Nevertheless, that's how I feel when I speak to you, even intermintently, even if it is through this clumsy medium of my blog.
I've been putting off writing this message for a long time, not because I didn't want to say anything, but because I didn't know what to say. It's the sense of having a feeling but not knowing how to express it well.
You've commented often that you see me as what you could possibly become. I feel the same way - I see you as a younger self if things had gone the way I wanted them to. It is no secret that I regret my inability to read law in England, or journalism in the US. In you, I get to live a vicarious life of how I would have lived if I had my way.
Or perhaps not.
You see, in spite of everything that I feel I have done wrong, every event I regret the necessity of, and every missed chance I cursed at, I never regretted the chances I did take, and the life I did lead. In you, I see the person I would have become even if my choices were different, the same essential person. To use your words, pompous, opinionated, hopelessly anal-retentive, paranoid, genuine, interesting and self-aware. In that sense, you offer me some hope, that these are parts of me that stick with me regardless of the occassionally fucked-up life choices I make.
You are right, of course, that self-absorption is alright only if it becomes self-awareness. No, it wasn't to cushion the impact on a fragile teenage ego that I didn't tell you. Some things you just have to find out for yourself. You wouldn't have believed me if I told you. I know I wouldn't.
Six years on, I offer you, perhaps, a modicum of hope that you may become less anal-retentive, pompous and opinionated. Life and age have their way of polishing away your rough edges. These days, I daresay I've become not only self-aware, but self-reflective, and I hope that you will eventually become the same.
Your Friend,
Anthony
I know the blog title is a bit dramatic. Nevertheless, that's how I feel when I speak to you, even intermintently, even if it is through this clumsy medium of my blog.
I've been putting off writing this message for a long time, not because I didn't want to say anything, but because I didn't know what to say. It's the sense of having a feeling but not knowing how to express it well.
You've commented often that you see me as what you could possibly become. I feel the same way - I see you as a younger self if things had gone the way I wanted them to. It is no secret that I regret my inability to read law in England, or journalism in the US. In you, I get to live a vicarious life of how I would have lived if I had my way.
Or perhaps not.
You see, in spite of everything that I feel I have done wrong, every event I regret the necessity of, and every missed chance I cursed at, I never regretted the chances I did take, and the life I did lead. In you, I see the person I would have become even if my choices were different, the same essential person. To use your words, pompous, opinionated, hopelessly anal-retentive, paranoid, genuine, interesting and self-aware. In that sense, you offer me some hope, that these are parts of me that stick with me regardless of the occassionally fucked-up life choices I make.
You are right, of course, that self-absorption is alright only if it becomes self-awareness. No, it wasn't to cushion the impact on a fragile teenage ego that I didn't tell you. Some things you just have to find out for yourself. You wouldn't have believed me if I told you. I know I wouldn't.
Six years on, I offer you, perhaps, a modicum of hope that you may become less anal-retentive, pompous and opinionated. Life and age have their way of polishing away your rough edges. These days, I daresay I've become not only self-aware, but self-reflective, and I hope that you will eventually become the same.
Your Friend,
Anthony
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
What do you remember?
Obtained this from the Alchemist.
If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don’t speak often, please post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want — good or bad. When you’re finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you.
If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don’t speak often, please post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want — good or bad. When you’re finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you.
Friday, July 04, 2008
RIP Velvetedge
When I was alone, you were a great comfort to me. You believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. You remembered what I said when no one else even listened.
And now, you are gone. Gone too are my promises to meet up with you, to have those tapas and beers in California when I'd finally get a chance to see you in person.
Farewell, Velvetedge. World of Warcraft seems a much darker place without you.
And now, you are gone. Gone too are my promises to meet up with you, to have those tapas and beers in California when I'd finally get a chance to see you in person.
Farewell, Velvetedge. World of Warcraft seems a much darker place without you.
Friday, June 13, 2008
No Story Ever Ends...
...it merely gives the basis for a new beginning.
Two years back, I worked an unpaid internship for a software company in California. I wrote about my heartache and trials here.
My writings on my unpaid internship:
************
I was incredibly surprised when someone I didn't know about wrote dropped me an email. He tracked me down by the blog address I left on LinkedIn, he said. He told me he liked what he saw, and that there were people back in California vouching for me.
People back in California vouching for me, he said.
************
Deep down inside, I've been struggling for the longest time to make sense of what happened, that life-changing experience that got cut short. I thought I buried that part of my life, but I know better. It never leaves you. You just keep chugging along, and one day, inexplicably, it will make sense because you make it make sense. You answer that call from your past, and use it to build your future.
Now, just like then, I'm leaving people behind. This time, though, I know better. I know that the story between us will not end, because no story ever ends. Not unless you let it. I won't let it.
Don't call this an ending. Just another part of the great story we call "life".
Two years back, I worked an unpaid internship for a software company in California. I wrote about my heartache and trials here.
My writings on my unpaid internship:
"Why am I insane enough to do this? The simple answer - I need every break I can get. I've already alluded to the difficulty of getting a visa sponsor. If I do a good job here, maybe, just maybe, word will get around. Besides, I promised almost a year ago that I will do absolutely everything in my power to stay. I'll not break that promise now."Two years later, I got my break. Just not in the way I expected.
************
I was incredibly surprised when someone I didn't know about wrote dropped me an email. He tracked me down by the blog address I left on LinkedIn, he said. He told me he liked what he saw, and that there were people back in California vouching for me.
People back in California vouching for me, he said.
************
Deep down inside, I've been struggling for the longest time to make sense of what happened, that life-changing experience that got cut short. I thought I buried that part of my life, but I know better. It never leaves you. You just keep chugging along, and one day, inexplicably, it will make sense because you make it make sense. You answer that call from your past, and use it to build your future.
Now, just like then, I'm leaving people behind. This time, though, I know better. I know that the story between us will not end, because no story ever ends. Not unless you let it. I won't let it.
Don't call this an ending. Just another part of the great story we call "life".
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Fragrant Prince
For background, click here.
The arrest of Fragrant Prince leaves me with a vague sense of unease. Yes, he is wrong for posting racist comments. Yes, his writing is shallow and self-absorbed. Yes, his ideas are poisonous, and have no place in a civilised society.
Yet, I am still incredibly uncomfortable with the circumstances of his arrest. From what I've read of the comments on Tomorrow.sg and Cowboy Caleb's blog, it's not really his racism that got him in trouble, but his arrogance.
Fragrant Prince didn't help his own case - his apology smacks of the same semantics as DPM Wong Kan Seng's apology for the Mas Selamat affair. "I am sincerely apologetic for the recent events that happen" isn't an apology. Rephrased, it might as well have been "I'm sorry I got caught".
Yes, Fragrant Prince's racist comments was probably criminal. On the other hand, had he been less arrogant and more popular, I think the blogging community would have been more inclined to "give chance" and not report him to the police.
I am not comfortable with this. It is bad enough that the blogosphere goes on the occasional witch-hunt against high-profile targets like Dawn Yang. A police arrest takes this phenomenon to a whole different dimension.
I think that given the circumstances, reporting the arrest was the right thing to do. I am also not defending Fragrant Prince. What I am uncomfortable with are the implications - that popularity might be a pre-screening criteria for justice. That is the inherent flaw of mob justice, and something that I'll write against, be it for Fragrant Prince, Dawn Yang or anyone else.
The arrest of Fragrant Prince leaves me with a vague sense of unease. Yes, he is wrong for posting racist comments. Yes, his writing is shallow and self-absorbed. Yes, his ideas are poisonous, and have no place in a civilised society.
Yet, I am still incredibly uncomfortable with the circumstances of his arrest. From what I've read of the comments on Tomorrow.sg and Cowboy Caleb's blog, it's not really his racism that got him in trouble, but his arrogance.
Fragrant Prince didn't help his own case - his apology smacks of the same semantics as DPM Wong Kan Seng's apology for the Mas Selamat affair. "I am sincerely apologetic for the recent events that happen" isn't an apology. Rephrased, it might as well have been "I'm sorry I got caught".
Yes, Fragrant Prince's racist comments was probably criminal. On the other hand, had he been less arrogant and more popular, I think the blogging community would have been more inclined to "give chance" and not report him to the police.
I am not comfortable with this. It is bad enough that the blogosphere goes on the occasional witch-hunt against high-profile targets like Dawn Yang. A police arrest takes this phenomenon to a whole different dimension.
I think that given the circumstances, reporting the arrest was the right thing to do. I am also not defending Fragrant Prince. What I am uncomfortable with are the implications - that popularity might be a pre-screening criteria for justice. That is the inherent flaw of mob justice, and something that I'll write against, be it for Fragrant Prince, Dawn Yang or anyone else.
Friday, April 25, 2008
I Cry Defiance
You are my senior. You have only to ask, and I will follow.
Be careful what you ask for.
You can ask me to hurry up. You can take things easy. You cannot expect me to hurry while you take things easy. If I run, you run. If you walk, I walk. If I turn around and not see the baton there waiting in my hand, don't expect me to continue running.
You can ask me to hurry up. You can ask me to double check your work. You cannot ask me to hurry up while having to double check your work. If you want me to hurry up, I have to be able that trust you will do your job. I cannot hurry while doing my job and your job at the same time.
You can trust my judgment. You can question my judgment. You cannot cherry-pick which parts of my judgment to trust. My judgment is rendered in its entirety, after considering all the aspects in totality. My judgment is not rendered for your convenience, but your best interests. You take it, good with the bad, or you reject it outright for its flaws.
You can act in good faith. You can keep your power. You cannot keep your power while pretending to act in good faith. That is either hypocrisy or denial, neither of which I condone.
You can ask me to be detached. You can ask me to be loyal. You cannot ask me to be detached while being loyal. Detachment means I feel nothing for you, even loyalty. Detachment requires that I not be here, under-appreciated for what I do. I've given up greener pastures for my loyalty. Don't expect me to feel nothing for what I've given up.
Choose.
Be careful what you ask for.
You can ask me to hurry up. You can take things easy. You cannot expect me to hurry while you take things easy. If I run, you run. If you walk, I walk. If I turn around and not see the baton there waiting in my hand, don't expect me to continue running.
You can ask me to hurry up. You can ask me to double check your work. You cannot ask me to hurry up while having to double check your work. If you want me to hurry up, I have to be able that trust you will do your job. I cannot hurry while doing my job and your job at the same time.
You can trust my judgment. You can question my judgment. You cannot cherry-pick which parts of my judgment to trust. My judgment is rendered in its entirety, after considering all the aspects in totality. My judgment is not rendered for your convenience, but your best interests. You take it, good with the bad, or you reject it outright for its flaws.
You can act in good faith. You can keep your power. You cannot keep your power while pretending to act in good faith. That is either hypocrisy or denial, neither of which I condone.
You can ask me to be detached. You can ask me to be loyal. You cannot ask me to be detached while being loyal. Detachment means I feel nothing for you, even loyalty. Detachment requires that I not be here, under-appreciated for what I do. I've given up greener pastures for my loyalty. Don't expect me to feel nothing for what I've given up.
Choose.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Doors or Walls?
If your past comes knocking on your door, would you open the door?
Everyone has a past that hurts. It seems de rigeur these days. The question is not whether you should let it affect you. It will affect you. It will sneak up on you. It will ambush your sleep, and turn your dreams sour. It will pop up in your email box one day, in a place and form you least expect.
There's a reason I don't write about my current relationship(s), or lack thereof. It's because that part of me still hurts - and it hurts more because I've immortalised it on this blog without intending to.
*******
I received an email today, from a person I've never heard of, claiming acquaintance with someone who helped me a lot in California. When I received the email, I didn't know quite how to respond. Some part of me wanted very much to leave this door unopened.
This is the part of me that remembers that no matter how much I love California, it will be inextricably tied to the greatest pain I've faced in my life.
Another part of me wanted to see what lay beyond the door. This is the part of me that wants to see what it is I left behind in California, a glimpse at the life behind I left when I made my decision to stay in Singapore.
I emailed that person back. I don't know if that was the right choice. Time will tell.
*******
Deciding whether or not to go through that door isn't a rational decision. A rational decision is based on sufficiency of information. Truth is, you don't really know what's behind that door. You have an idea. You have a best guess. But it remains a guess, no matter how good you are.
Behind that door could be a monster, a blank wall, or a treasure beyond compare. More often than not, it opens up to a corridor with another door at the end of it. And then, you stand at the threshold again, wondering the same thing you did the previous time, because you are only human.
The question is not whether to open the door. The question is whether you can live with yourself after.
In the end, that is all that matters.
Everyone has a past that hurts. It seems de rigeur these days. The question is not whether you should let it affect you. It will affect you. It will sneak up on you. It will ambush your sleep, and turn your dreams sour. It will pop up in your email box one day, in a place and form you least expect.
There's a reason I don't write about my current relationship(s), or lack thereof. It's because that part of me still hurts - and it hurts more because I've immortalised it on this blog without intending to.
*******
I received an email today, from a person I've never heard of, claiming acquaintance with someone who helped me a lot in California. When I received the email, I didn't know quite how to respond. Some part of me wanted very much to leave this door unopened.
This is the part of me that remembers that no matter how much I love California, it will be inextricably tied to the greatest pain I've faced in my life.
Another part of me wanted to see what lay beyond the door. This is the part of me that wants to see what it is I left behind in California, a glimpse at the life behind I left when I made my decision to stay in Singapore.
I emailed that person back. I don't know if that was the right choice. Time will tell.
*******
Deciding whether or not to go through that door isn't a rational decision. A rational decision is based on sufficiency of information. Truth is, you don't really know what's behind that door. You have an idea. You have a best guess. But it remains a guess, no matter how good you are.
Behind that door could be a monster, a blank wall, or a treasure beyond compare. More often than not, it opens up to a corridor with another door at the end of it. And then, you stand at the threshold again, wondering the same thing you did the previous time, because you are only human.
The question is not whether to open the door. The question is whether you can live with yourself after.
In the end, that is all that matters.
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