This whole cycling everywhere business has gotten me excited, especially to find out what other park connectors NParks provides.
The NParks website is extremely slow, despite the fact folks have given them feedback more than a year ago.
So rather than wait for them to fix it, I’ve traced all the park connectors into a single Google Map.
Enjoy.
View NParks Park Connectors, Singapore in a larger map
I’ve always been enamoured by professions imbued with a “higher calling”. Nurses, doctors, activists, and the last time I checked, journalists. After all, isn’t a major point in the whole “journalists vs bloggers” debate? The claim that journalists are held to a higher standard in terms of reporting, and more importantly, ethics?
To be fair, the title “journalist” has expanded a lot in recent times. In this age of self-publishing anyone with a novel idea and internet access is able to address an audience. One could argue that the folks at celebrity gossip website TMZ are journalists to some degree. Or the tabloids for that matter. After all, they do bring news to an audience that craves for the genre.
My argument here is not whether Ris Low is news. My own rudimentary understanding of the word’s definition is that “news” is the opposite of “old’s”. Anything that is current is news. Any instant thought on an old subject is a new thought, any content created is fresh content, any pointer leading to old content is a new pointer. As such, it is all news, and it is all relevant if you find the appropriate audience.
My argument is that the Straits Times has failed to live up to journalism’s higher calling. I will constrain this discourse only to Ris Low - there’s no knowing how long we could go on if we were to address the allegations of biased and incomplete reporting.
The role of the press has traditionally been the middleman between authorities and their people. She walks the line between being the government’s mouthpiece and the people’s defender. Above all, the role of the press is to elevate the level of discourse.
The whole Ris Low saga is a scathing revelation of ST’s priorities. In her latest online posting ST’s Online Editor Joanne Lee defends the stance that Ris Low is still news. She is defending ST’s extensive coverage of Ris Low even after Ris has stepped down as Miss Singapore-World. She is defending articles about Ris having to retake her exams (implicit allegation that Ris was caught cheating on her exams would be the news angle here) and Ris not allowed to shop alone.
Is it news? The two articles are the top read stories on the Straits Times Online, so yes. Does it sell papers, attract readers and eyeballs? Yes. If journalism were solely a business of dollars and cents, there probably would be no question. But we hold journalism to a higher standard than just the making of money. The question with producing this sort of news, I would pose to the journalists at the Straits Times, is this: At what cost?
Ris is a 19 year old for crying out loud. You’re really going to do this? Is it worth the short-term bump in online views, the pittance of ad revenue? Is there any empathy left in you? When you first picked up your pen, you did it with empathy. It wasn’t business, you were young then and money wasn’t the motivation. You wrote because you wanted to show the world a reflection of themselves from a myriad of perspectives. The stories of personal triumph, the informative investigative pieces you had spent so much time putting together, the call for action to help those who are suffering?
Do you not see, in your dogged pursuit of Ris Low, that you have caused suffering?
As Asians we are probably used to the Spockian justification, “logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few” (or the one, yes yes). But the public does not need updates on Ris Low. We do need a press who will have the courage to accept the long-term view that the shareholders are best served when the people are well-served. The short-term gratification of getting the public’s fleeting attention at the expense of what the Straits Times could and should be is a bloody waste.
In the past few weeks we’ve seen the unfolding of the story that is Ris Low. For the uninitiated, it involves a 19-year old winning the title of Miss Singapore-World, her inpromptu interview and the revelation that she does not possess the eloquence expected of someone about to represent the nation on a global stage.
The public reaction was expected. You had those who made fun of her, those who created a Facebook group and those who were just dying to cast the first large boulder.
It didn’t help her cause that she was later found out to have previously committed credit card fraud, and then admitted to having suffered from a bipolar disorder.
But she’s stated that she’s still not throwing in the towel and returning the crown; how it’s been a dream of hers and she’s pursuing it, despite the overwhelming cacophony of voices maliciously denigrating her.
We Singaporeans love to play judge. Somewhere in our “you must grow up to be a lawyer” childhood we have been imprinted with the idea that power lies in the hands of those who do the judging. So we’ve acquired this over-developed ability to judge others. We are quick to deliver scathing remarks, complain if the train is a few minutes late and rant as if the universe owed us a living.
But real power doesn’t lie in judgement. It is easy to play armchair judge on Singapore idol and belittle someone elses’ lack of talent or skill. The contestants will probably tell you that going under the bright lights is a very sobering experience, and you come out of it more humbled and less likely to criticise.
So yes, Ris Low is flawed, and she probably isn’t the first choice we’d pick if we wanted to win the international competition. But I know of so many who have similar problems with diction, and my own past is as chequered as hers. The only difference is that I haven’t had the guts to subject myself to the possibility of failure in pursuit of a dream, however ludicrous others may claim.
I admire Ris for her bravery and I believe that everyone should be given chances to undo the mistakes of their youth and access to support in overcoming their personal adversity. I want my children to be brought up in an environment that believes and embodies these beliefs.
The question before us is not so much whether we will win the Miss World title, but whether we can take this chance to mature as a society and recognise that the fragmentation in society caused by being overly critical and competitive is destroying us from within. And whether we have the guts to bravely look in the mirror and accept the fact that we are all fraught with imperfections, but we are all united in the unfolding story that is Singapore.
I am thankful for the journey that Singapore has taken the past 44 years and will admit —as many would be quick to point out — that there are imperfections that lie therein. I am not saying that we ought to bury past transgressions, but we need to be conscious that the pursuit is not out of a sense of spite, and that it does not cost us our present or our future.
It is the future, that of our children’s, that I look forward expectantly, nurturing a small flame of hope in the winds of growing cynicism. The words of the anthem should resonate, that we move onward as a united people and forge our collective destinies with our own hands.
I believe that Singapore should be more than a place that holds the memories of our childhood — that could have easily been Montana or Nairobi. Singapore should be more than brick and mortar, and her pulse should be more than the rise and ebb of the stock market. She should be the manifestation of our ideals, the stuff of dreams.
A community that does not judge one by colour, language, religion or rank in society. A place that affords a measure of success to whomever has the talent, determination and will to pursue it, yet shows compassion to those upon whom misfortune has befallen. A country that stands up for what is right over what is convenient. A people of more action, and less words; more joy and less murmuring; more sharing and less hoarding.
That is my hope for you. I will do my best to work towards this future.
Onward, Singapore.
The headlines on Straits Times read “Jackie slams Singaporeans, where the Hong Kong movie star is quoted,
A lot of people are not like those in USA and Japan who voluntarily have self-respect. When you don’t have self-respect, the government will have to control you….[Singaporeans] have no self-respect at all.
His comments are likely to stir up emotions. Many Singaporean conversations would probably start to label him a second-rate movie star, and question his right to judge us. But in his bluntness Jackie might have hit the uncomfortable truth.
Singapore, in her search for a national identity, has put on so many masks, driven by an unexplainable shame towards being herself. We aim to be like Switzerland, or some amalgamation of rich and developed countries. Even the language we converse in is driven not by who we are, but what is economically pragmatic at that juncture in time.
There is a divide between our overly-involved (IMO, anyway) government and the people. Singlish - the language organically evolved by the people, is labelled as detrimental to our progress, something to be avoided, unclean, almost. The government-run stuff - almost everything else - wins international awards, but is derided by the Singapore people as symbols of our government’s obsession with obtaining the approval of her colonial masters.
The pervasive hand of the government somehow prevents true ownership of victories which ought to belong to the Singapore people. We have become the lesser brother and the Singapore government - the elite - have become the greater. This divide grows everytime a government official believes, consciously or subconsciously, that they know better than the Singapore people. They forget: they are the Singapore people.
So it is, as with every teenager beaten down by their over-achieving sibling, Singaporeans have an underdeveloped sense of esteem. Like an alcoholic, prodigal brother, we rant and tear away at our own, refusing to believe that anything that comes out of Singapore is world-class. Even home-grown Tiger beer advertises herself as more London and New York than Singaporean. We were so very quick to tear down Sim Wong Hoo the moment the Apple iPod took over Creative’s mp3 player market share. I know I was.
There is a need to merge the two Singapores. We could sit in our armchairs and go on at length about how the government ought to be more in touch with the people, or we could realise that we too are at fault. There is an image of Singapore in the international consciousness: an image of clockwork efficiency and world-class execution which is the envy of many nations. There is also the image of cold hard Cylon steel, a Singapore more machine than human.
We need to own who we are. We need to stop letting others define who we are and pour our humanity, stretching, nay, breaking the government-orchestrated exercise of nation-building. We need to speak up and stand up for that which is Singapore. We need to own our victories:
Unlike the respect of others, self-respect isn’t earned. It is found. Find it, Singapore.
In my opinion, the main impediment stopping Singaporeans of this generation from making a similar breakthrough to that of our forebears (LKY’s generation) is our obsession with competition. Singapore’s particular idiosyncrasy is that if you look closely enough, we care less about winning than about making the other party lose. Point is, the obsession with making the other person lose is driving us apeshit crazy.
A Singaporean will go to an expensive buffet. Rather than enjoying the good food and ambience, his first inclination is to “attack” the high-ticket items in order to justify the money he’s paying for the buffet. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t like oysters, or prefers cod to crab. He does it so that the establishment doesn’t win, without for a second realising that his arrangement renders both parties losers.
What I’m trying to define here is an extension of the popular Singaporean adjective “kiasu”, which denotes a fear of losing. We’ve actually gone one-up, I feel. Not only must we not lose, the other person / organisation / government / country must be made to lose.
But in the words of the ephemerally-famous Jon Stewart, “this is not a [expletive] game”. Working on a win-lose model restricts us immensely. While it served to move us from third-world status to first-world, it is incompatible with any possible evolution towards a higher form of society. There is no noble cause in obsessive competition, no moral lessons or goodwill. There is only the raw animal instinct for survival, and we will stay at this base level if we continue the way we are - content to snap at everybody else and at each other, always bemoaning the fact that someone has it better than us. More money. More happiness. More.
We have missed the forest for the trees. We are failing to see that we have plenty, and with it a responsibility to help those who do not have as much. In this time of need, let us redefine ourselves as a people of action, willing to do what is right at our own expense, rather than waiting for the phantom hand of government to right all wrongs while we snipe from our armchairs.
I think we’ve come along far enough, at least economically, to realise that no one needs to lose. It would be an utter shame for people to be in desperate need while collectively we have so much.
Some things transcend national boundaries.
When Jennifer Hudson took the stage at this year’s Superbowl with her rendition of the Star-spangled Banner, it was an amazing testimony to the enduring resilience of hope. If anybody had a right to be cynical about American rhetoric like freedom and bravery in the face of oppression, Hudson would have been most deserving. The loss of her mother, brother and nephew to a senseless act of violence last October should have shredded any semblance of ideals.
But it didn’t. Her rendition of the American anthem was amazing, not only because of the flawless vocals, but also her moving personal story behind it.
The often-quoted line from the movie “V for Vendetta” goes,
Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.
I believe, that in order for Singapore to endure, the country has got to stand for something more than efficient processes and non-corrupt governing. Because there will come day when processes will fail and people in power found corrupt. Realistically speaking, a “dose of bad government” is an inescapable probability as evidenced by all manners of civilisation since man’s infancy. Will Singaporeans have anything to hold on to when that happens? Are we staying only because Singapore affords us shelter, and will we leave when the winds change?
As a designer, I am driven to seek the core of any design: a story. A story gives words and sentences purpose.
Such is my desperation to know my country better that I tweeted, “What country are you from, and what does it represent?”
Most Singaporeans tell me is that Singapore’s core value is meritocracy.
So let us unite as a nation, where every man for himself?
There’s a lot of name-calling going on in Singapore.
“Lesser mortals”. “Scholar”. “Foreign talent”. “Civil servant”. “Bacteria”.
Like Ian said, get a perspective. We need to stop dividing ourselves.
Our story begins, as many stories do, with the fury of a woman scorned. It was Ping.sg’s first anniversary, and they held a blog awards ceremony. An up-and-coming blogger, Jayne had secured 4 of the 11 awards, a remarkable feat by any standards. However, as the ambitious are wont to do, Jayne threw a hissy fit when she didn’t win the largest award of them all.
Depending on whose account you heard, you either came away with the conclusion that people ought to learn how to lose graciously, or that the people in “power” were abusing their godlike status.
Fast-forward to present day. Jayne announces the registration of the Association of Bloggers (Singapore):
“Association of Bloggers (Singapore) is a non-profit association. It is dedicated to promoting, protecting and educating its members; supporting the development of blogging as new media. I hope eventually it can help to provide legal assistance to bloggers too. It is a professional body for bloggers in Singapore.”
This association was created, if anything, to coalesce power.
“[Singaporean bloggers were] easily manipulated and even banned for standing up against the foreign tyrant from self-proclaimed ‘community meta weblog for Singapore bloggers’.”
And if Jayne’s own blog posts are anything to go by, the association has a maniacal leader at its helm.
Personal disclaimer: I am a civil servant, a fact made publicly known numerous times in all my online discussions. I find Jayne’s broad sweeping attacks on public servants extremely hurtful and uncalled for.
I believe that a person who judges another by the place he is born (Chua Uzyn … is a ‘foreign talent’, educated in Singapore, enjoying our subsidies) should not be in a position to educate anyone.
It is my hope that the Singapore blogosphere would evolve to be an environment that fosters creativity and intellectual discourse. Starting behind a web of hypocrisy and an insatiable thirst for power is a bad place to start.
Faith, Seth, Anne and I decided to be tourists for a day and booked ourselves on the 10am Duck Tour out of Suntec City. We were the only Singaporeans on the amphibious tour. Halfway through the tour, Faith and I soon realised how important tour guides are in communicating Singapore to our visitors.
Duck Tours isn’t your stuffy bureaucratic tour company. It is evident that they set themselves out to be spontaneous and casual - sort of like Virgin America which I mentioned earlier. On their tickets, instead of the normal “Adult” and “Child” tickets, it says “Big Duck” and “Little Duck”. A nice touch, although I sometimes have trouble disassociating the word “duck” from a certain commonplace vulgarity. Yes, yes. Mind in the gutter, I know.
Anyway, back to our tour guide. She was, as expected, full of enthusiasm and like are tour guides are wont to do, filled every silent moment with conversation. Her gig isn’t rehearsed as some are, so it comes across as less mechanical. But here’s the thing: there’s a fine line between natural and awkward, as there is between mechanical and polished.
Her first major gaffe which really hit me upside the head was when she asked all of the visitors where they were from.
“Australia,” said the couple sitting 2 rows in front of us.
“Which part?” she asked.
“Adelaide!” they answered.
“Wow. Everytime I hear the word ‘Adelaide’, I hate it.”
My jaw dropped. It was a real life OMG moment. I couldn’t believe my ears. The silence seemed to last forever.
She then explained how her dad got a job in Adelaide last year, but ended up not signing the contract, so she was “stuck in Singapore”. Though less awkward than her first whammy, slapping the country you’re promoting isn’t exactly the way to go either.
As the tour went on, our guide displayed her tremendous mathematical acuity by boiling everything down into dollars and cents. Everything.
“Here’s the formula-one circuit. The lights cost Singapore 10.1 million dollars.”
“This is the Singapore flyer. For last year’s Valentine’s Day it cost couples a few thousand dollars to book the entire capsule to themselves. Some people may call it romantic, but I call it stupidity (emphasis hers, tonal). You may as well give me the money.”
“This is the grand old dame, Raffles Hotel. There are no normal rooms there, only Presidential suites. They run from $800 to $8000 per night. During the F1 race, it will be 3 times the amount. $27,000 per night. If you have money you can book the room. Give me a call and we can have tea together.”
“This will be Singapore’s first casino. It initially cost $2 billion to build, but now it costs $6 billion…”
Everything in dollars and cents. Faith and I, sitting on opposite sides of the Duck, had given up rolling our eyeballs at each other by then.
The obsession with cost is a distinctly Singaporean problem. Everytime we visit someone’s home, the question will be asked, “How much did it cost?” It is an extremely unbecoming question to most civilised human beings, but in Singapore, money is an identifier.
To the common man, the cost of the house, the car is a badge of our shared suffering. It’s not uncouth to us because the middle and lower class Singaporeans do not use it to distinguish themselves from the pack. After all, public housing in Singapore are all exactly 90m2 in area, are painted in whatever butt-ugly colour is cheapest at that point in time, and have a bomb shelter in the most inconvenient part of the house.
“How much did your house cost?”
“$400,000? Dammit man, life is hard, isn’t it?”
And such goes the Singapore refrain. Our glasses are always half-empty.
Internally, I think it’s time we stopped thinking of ourselves as victims. But externally, I think this is a tune we need not play for foreign ears.
The weblog of Lucian Teo, husband to the most beautiful wife, father to the most amazing kids. Photographer, storyteller, all-round nice guy [citation needed].
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