Thursday, September 3, 2009

Should Article 152 be scrapped from the Singapore Constitution?

http://theonlinecitizen.com/2009/09/should-article-152-be-scrapped-from-the-singapore-constitution/
The event was a screening of Singapore short films. During the Question & Answer session at the end, a member of the audience, a Korean man, offered an observation: “Despite the fact that Singapore is a multiracial country, why are the films shown tonight all in Chinese?”

His query provoked an immediate response from a lady in the audience. Before the microphone could be passed to her, she had shouted out, almost defensively, ‘Majority, what!’

There is of course a certain undeniable logic to the woman’s outburst. The Chinese are an overwhelming 75% of Singapore’s population. This is a very sizeable majority, if we compare it to other ‘multiracial’ countries: Malaysia (65% Malays and Bumiputra groups), Fiji (55% Fiji Islanders) and Guyana (44% Indo-Guyanese). If there were more media representations of the Chinese than the other races in Singapore, it was a matter of simple arithmetic.

But that was the woman actually saying with that phrase? Was she peeved that this ‘foreigner’ dared to suggest that Singapore’s ‘multi-racial’ ethos was superficial, even fraudulent? At the same time, I couldn’t help but be struck by a glib sense of entitlement that accompanied her prickly response.

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Recently, the Straits Times ran a feature article asking whether minorities in Singapore deserve a ‘special position’. What the article failed to recognize, however, was the ‘special position’ enjoyed by Chinese Singaporeans.

Simply put, these are the privileges that come from being members of the majority race.
When I was younger, I used to question why local advertisements rarely featured non-Chinese faces (bank and credit card companies were notorious for projecting images of well-heeled Chinese yuppies). I wondered why TVMobile showed Chinese programmes, which only served to marginalize those of us sitting in the bus who didn’t understand the language. But I came to realize that equal representation was simply not possible in a country where one particular ethnic community formed the bulk of the target market. I began to appreciate the difficulties of any minority, no matter how entrepreneurial, to penetrate communal business networks, where guanxi links have ossified over several generations.

It’s not simply economic supremacy that the majority enjoys, but also political hegemony. Singapore practices a form of electoral democracy, which by its definition establishes rule by a majority. Because of the HDB quota system, which mandates that the ethnic composition in each estate should mirror that of the nation as a whole, minority communities do not form any significant electoral bloc.

While areas such as Kembangan, Geylang Serai and the Southern Islands used to be Malay-dominated strongholds, this has been diluted over time. We can contrast this, for example, with the state of Pulau Pinang in Malaysia, where the Chinese actually form the majority. Ironically, the attempt to prevent certain neighborhoods from becoming Malay or Indian enclaves has actually resulted in each ward becoming a Chinese enclave.

However, it is the privilege of the majority to be exempted from accusations of forming ‘enclaves’ (or for that matter, ‘ghettoes’) in areas where they are concentrated, simply because those words are inextricably linked with minorities.

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Thus it was with a sense of bewilderment that I read Minister Mentor’s agitated rebuttal to NMP Viswa Sadasivan’s speech in Parliament. According to Lee, “Our Constitution states expressly that it is a duty of the Government not to treat everybody as equal.” He made particular reference to Section 152 of the Singapore Constitution, which reads as such:
‘Minorities and special position of Malays
152. —(1) It shall be the responsibility of the Government constantly to care for the interests of the racial and religious minorities in Singapore.

—-

(2) The Government shall exercise its functions in such manner as to recognise the special position of the Malays, who are the indigenous people of Singapore, and accordingly it shall be the responsibility of the Government to protect, safeguard, support, foster and promote their political, educational, religious, economic, social and cultural interests and the Malay language.’
The implication is that the ‘special position’ accorded to Malays in Singapore is an obstacle to true racial equality. This was Lee’s argument to supposedly bring the house ‘back to earth’ and demolish Viswa’s ‘highfalutin’ ideals. But it seems as if Lee has got the whole thing backwards.
While there has been talk about jettisoning Section 152, especially by some Malays who feel that they have been unfairly scapegoated, we should bear in mind that the section consists of two parts. The first part attempts to provide some means of redress for minority communities who are structurally disadvantaged.

The fact is that inequalities already exist in any society where there is a dominant ethnic majority. In other words, instead of sabotaging the idea of racial equality, this remedial clause actually tries to promote it—by recognizing that minorities do not enjoy the economic and political clout of the majority, and would require special attention and assistance. Lee has labeled Viswa’s speech as ‘false and flawed’. The same should actually be said for his rebuttal.

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A concrete example of this ‘remedial clause’ can be found in the television industry. In Singapore, there are dedicated channels for ethnic minorities, namely the Suria channel for Malays and Vasantham channel for Indians. It would be extremely difficult for these channels to survive on revenue from advertising alone. Not only do they suffer from lower viewership than say, Channel 8 and Channel U (the dedicated Mandarin channels), but advertisers would also recognize that the demographic profile of their viewers is hardly appealing (the Malay community, for example, is predominantly working-class, and for advertisers, this would mean lower purchasing power).
Thus, much of the budget for programming on Suria and Vasantham is derived from television licensing fees. This is a practice commonly known as public service broadcasting, acknowledged on the website of the Media Development Authority: “These (licensing) fees are essential in helping with the production of public service programmes as they are less commercially viable and require funding support.”
Without constitutional safeguards for minorities, a multiracial country like Singapore risks sliding into majoritarianism. Sri Lanka is a prime example of a country whose tragic history is a direct result of majoritarian trends. In 1956, 8 years after Independence, the Sinhalese majority (74%) passed an act to recognize Sinhala as the only official language, effectively sidelining the Tamil minority. A new constitution enshrined Buddhism as the state religion, and pro-Sinhalese preferential policies in education and employment were instituted. The result was a protracted civil war that has claimed thousands of lives.
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It is enlightening to revisit the part in Viswa’s speech which addressed the tenet in the pledge which reads as “one united people, regardless of race, language or religion”:
“…We, as a society, need to address apparent contradictions and mixed signals. Examples are the issue of Malay-Muslims in the SAF, SAP schools and cultural elitism, the need for ethnic based self help groups, the need for us to maintain the current racial distribution in society, and whether Singapore is ready for an ethnic minority Prime Minister.”
With the exception of ‘ethnic based self-help groups’, all the examples he listed represented the dangers of majoritarian impulses in Singapore. And out of this entire list, the Minister Mentor, in his rebuttal, chose only to respond to the issue of ethnic based self-help groups.

Lee’s explication of the second part of Section 152 is also notable for its selective omissions. Lily Zubaidah’s ‘The Singapore Dilemma’ provides an excellent analysis on the Singapore government’s ‘minimalist’, rather than ‘interventionist’ approach to Section 152. While the section calls for the government to exercise pro-active measures with regards to the Malay community, it does not detail what these measures should be.

Thus the government has elected to interpret the clause in narrow terms, restricting this to providing free tertiary education for the Malay minority. A more generous interpretation, for example, might have considered granting a Special Assistance Plan status to Malay-medium schools (such as the Sekolah Menengah Tun Sri Lanang and the Sekolah Menengah Sang Nila Utama), a privilege that was offered to 10 Chinese-medium schools.

In some instances, one can even argue that the government has acted in violation of Section 152. In the year 2000, the expropriation of Istana Kampong Glam, a symbol of Malay sovereignty on the island, surely did not demonstrate the political will to ‘safeguard (Malay) cultural interests’. The banning of the tudung in national schools in 2002 cannot be considered an act that ‘fosters (Malay) religious interests’. And the fact that the madrasahs in Singapore do not receive adequate funding from the Ministry of Education contravenes an obligation to ‘support (Malay) educational interests’.

As such, one wonders about the actual constitutional force of Section 152. Lee has raised Section 152 as some kind of stumbling block to equality. Yet the section itself has been subjected to unequal and arbitrary application in state policies.

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As I write this, I find myself wondering why it is so difficult for someone in the majority to appreciate his or her privileged status in Singapore. How is it possible for someone to yell out ‘Majority, what!’, in the same breath unapologetically disclaiming any responsibilities towards fellow citizens who are minorities? I imagine a giant flattening villages as it stomps along its carefree path. When asked to account for his actions, he answers, ‘I can’t help it, I’m big what!’

I believe there are two factors that can explain this lack of majority-consciousness among Chinese Singaporeans. The first is the fact that the Chinese did not come to the region as colonial settlers. Their arrival was facilitated by colonial capitalism, which often relied on indentured labour. Thus the Chinese do not see themselves as responsible for dispossessing native populations of their status and territories, and exploiting indigenous resources. As such, they do not carry the baggage of what has often been referred to as post-colonial guilt.

Secondly, there are some who believe that the Chinese-educated community has itself been marginalized, a phenomenon that has led sociologist Chua Beng Huat to coin the term ‘the minoritisation of the Chinese community’. I do have sympathy for such sentiments, although sometimes I wonder if a distinction needs to be made between government subjugation of leftist and communist activities (which tended to be associated with the Chinese-educated) and an actual repression of Chinese culture. Nevertheless, this sense of ‘minoritisation’ has led to a certain attitude in majority-minority relations: ‘how can the Chinese, who are themselves oppressed, be seen as the oppressors?’

No matter what the Chinese here feel about their status as the majority, the fact remains that this is a status that is not likely to change. Lee Kuan Yew himself has hinted at the need to maintain this ‘racial balance’ in a speech given in mid-August:

“By race, the fertility rate is 1.91 for Malays, 1.19 for Indians and 1.14 for Chinese. If we continue this way without the new immigrants and PRs and their children doing national service, the composition of our SAF will change. So please remember that”.

The tendency of any majority, if left unchecked, is towards tyranny. The tendency of any minority, if left unattended, is towards alienation. The presence of Section 152, a constitutional guarantee of minority protection, goes a long way towards alleviating the damaging forces of such vectors in our society. Far from undermining equality, Section 152 is an attempt to rectify asymmetries of power, to achieve parity, among those who are not born equal. It takes a particular form of genius to observe the reverse.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Governing Islam and Regulating Muslims in Singapore’s Secular Authoritarian State


Lily Zubaidah Rahim
University of Sydney
Governing Islam and Regulating Muslims in
Singapore’s Secular Authoritarian State
Working Paper No.156
July 2009

The views presented in this paper are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect those of the Asia Research Centre or Murdoch University. Working papers are considered draft publications for critical comments by colleagues and will generally be expected to be published elsewhere in a more polished form after a period of critical engagement and revision. Comments on this paper should be directed to the author at l.rahim@usyd.edu.au
© Copyright is held by the author(s) of each working paper: No part of this publication may be republished, reprinted or reproduced in any form without the permission of the paper’s author(s).
National Library of Australia.
ISSN: 1037-4612
ABSTRACT
Governance of Islam in Singapore has been strongly shaped by the authoritarian state’s micro-management of nation-building, commanding influence of Islamic institutions such as the peak religious bureaucracy MUIS (Majlis Ugama Islam Singapura or Islamic Religious Council) and reliance on draconian legislation such as the Maintenance of Religious Harmony Act (MRHA), Sedition Act and the Internal Security Act (ISA). Inter alia, these Acts are geared towards curbing the politicisation of religion by attempting to separate religion from politics, regulate religious activity, restrain the development of an autonomous Muslim civil society. The efficacy of the MRHA and no-tudung (headscarf) policy is analysed in the context of the ‘othering’ of the Muslim community and the denial of their localised socio-economic and political grievances in motivating some to support radical Islamist ideology in the era of the ‘war on terror’.
STRATEGIC SECULARISM OF THE AUTHORITARIAN STATE
Singapore is the only country in East Asia to have preserved its authoritarian political system despite having attained the status of a First World economy. The 2009 Human Rights Watch (HRW) Country Report has classified Singapore as ‘an authoritarian state with strict curbs on freedom of expression, assembly and association; denial of due process rights; draconian defamation laws; and tight controls on independent political activity…internal security and criminal laws permit prolonged detention of suspects without trial’(Human Rights Watch 2009). Similarly, Amnesty International’s 2009 report maintains that defamation suits and restrictive measures have been systematically unleashed against opposition activists, human rights defenders, the foreign media and conscientious objectors. ‘A climate of fear and self-censorship discouraged Singaporeans from fully participating in public affairs’ (Amnesty International 2009). Singapore’s legal system has been criticised by international legal and human rights bodies such as the International Bar Association, International Commission of Jurists and Asia Watch for the alleged use of the courts to persecute critics of the PAP government. In terms of defamations suits, 2008 was described as a ‘bumper year’ for legal actions and decisions against the international media and political opponents of the government (Rodan 2008).
The authoritarian city-state possesses the unique distinction of being the only country in the world to have devised legislation enforcing the separation of religion and politics – supposedly in the interest of maintaining ‘religious harmony’. Despite the comprehensive nature of the 1990 MRHA, the PAP government has yet to clearly define what it means by ‘religious harmony’. Moreover, the permissible parameters of religious activity remain ambiguous. This ambiguity has reinforced the culture of fear within religious communities and the larger society. Of particular concern to the Muslim community is the enforced separation of religion from politics – as this clearly contradicts the Islamic principles of tawhid and ad-deen which dictate that Islam encompasses all aspects of life. In reaffirming the organic relationship between religion and politics, the Catholic Archbishop of Singapore has also advised that ‘religion must show its concern about "secular" government policies when there are moral or religious implications’ (Straits Times 1990a).
In attempting to clarify the PAP government’s policy of separating religion and politics, Minister George Yeo opined that ‘Singapore’s government is secular, but it is certainly not atheistic. It is neutral’ (Straits Times 1990a). This view reflects the government’s strategic secularism, which is driven by the reality that more than 80% of Singaporeans profess a religious faith (refer to Table 1). The PAP government’s strategic secularism is characterised by a policy of state intervention in the administration of Islam, Sikhism and Hinduism. It appoints many or most office-bearers in statutory bodies which have been established to manage various aspects of these faith communities (Tan, E. 2007). It is thus ironic that while the MRHA requires religion and politics to be separated, the state’s inter-meshing of religion and public policy remains unquestioned (Thio 2007).

Table 1 Religious/Faith Affiliation in Singapore (%), 2000.
Religion/Faith %
Christianity 14.6
Buddhism 42.5
Taoism 8.5
Islam 14.9
Hinduism 4.0
Other religions 0.6
No religion 14.8
Total 100.0
Source: Singapore Census of Population 2000.

In Singapore, religious beliefs are strongly divided along ethnic lines. 99.6% of Malays are Muslims, 66.4% of Chinese are Buddhists and Taoists, 55.4% of Indians are Hindus and 50% of ethnic minorities (referred to as ‘others’) are Christians. Malays are thus the most homogeneous ethnic community in religious terms. This has led to the categories Malay and Muslim used synonymously with the Muslim identity and treated as integral to Malay identity. Unlike other ethnic communities in Singapore, Malay ethnicity and Islam have been conflated -a phenomena not even practiced in the Middle-East where there are sizeable Christian Arab communities.

It is worth noting that the Malay Muslim community have persistently remained along the socio-economic and political margins of society since Singapore’s political independence in 1965. In particular, economic and educational disparities between the Malay and Chinese communities have not narrowed in critical areas such as university enrolments, average monthly household income and ownership of private houses and apartments.1

Following the terrorist attacks of September 11 2001, and subsequent detention of alleged Jemaah Islamiah (JI) militants in Singapore, the secular authoritarian state has been particularly vigilant in policing the local Muslim community whilst ostensibly promoting inter-religious understanding via initiatives such as the Inter-Religious Confidence Circles (IRCC) and the Declaration of Religious Harmony (DRH).2 The vigilant policing of the Muslim community is
strongly driven by apprehensions that the secular foundations of regional states such as Malaysia and Indonesia have been subverted by ‘creeping Islamisation’ -demonstrated by the ability of some Islamist parties and organisations to attain considerable electoral support, extend the reach of shariah (Islamic) law and incrementally Islamise secular political parties. Confronted by these global and regional Islamisation trends, the armoury of draconian legislation and restrictive administrative policies are expected to shield the secular city-state against the ideational incursions of political Islam.

Maintaining a watchful eye on regional and international influences, the PAP government is well equipped to pre-emptively move against any perceived threat. As Tan notes, since September 11, 2001, ‘close scrutiny, interventionist surveillance and ultra-sensitivity to internal security concerns are hallmarks of the government’s policy towards religion’ (Tan, E. 2007: 444). In particular, the increased level of Muslim religiosity in Singapore has been securitised as the community is perceived to be susceptible to radical Islamist propaganda (Tan, E. 2007: 444). Even if not susceptible to radical Islamist propaganda, their sheer religiosity is perceived to be detrimental to the multiracial social fabric of society. Reflective of this concern, Lee Kuan Yew cautioned in 2007 that ‘over the last 3 decades many Muslims in Singapore and the region are becoming stricter in their dress, diet, religious observances, and even social interaction, especially with non-Muslims…My original concern was over the growing separateness of our Muslim community…’ (Tan, E. 2007: 447).

INTERMESHING OF RELIGION AND POLITICS
A clear example of the intrusion of the authoritarian state on religious affairs is the 1965 Administration of Muslim Law Act (AMLA). Inter alia, the Act facilitates the management of Muslim affairs such as the collection of zakat (annual obligatory tax), administration of mosques, management of wakaf (bequeathed) land and coordination of haj (pilgrimage) activities. AMLA allows for the repeal and re-enactment of laws which relate to Muslims. Despite strong community disquiet, AMLA’s amendment in 1998 provides for the concurrent jurisdiction of shariah (Islamic) and civil courts, thereby allowing Muslims the choice of seeking redress, on matters such as custody, maintenance claims and division of matrimonial property, to either court.

Established in 1968, the Majlis Ugama Islam Singapura (MUIS) is a state sponsored religious bureaucracy with statutory board status that has centralised Muslim affairs. It administers the zakat collection, wakaf land, haj pilgrimages and manages nearly 100 mosques. It also administers the Mosque Building Fund (MBF) which collects financial contributions from working Singaporeans for the building and maintenance of mosques in housing estates. MUIS has the power to approve nominees to mosque management committees and provides the text of Friday mosque sermons. From 1975, all pilgrims had to register with MUIS and could only perform the haj through MUIS approved vendors.

Instructively, the President of Singapore, on the recommendation of the Prime Minister, appoints all key office-bearers in MUIS, including the Mufti (Muslim religious leader)(Kadir 2004: 360). The Chairman of MUIS is none other than the PAP Minister-in-charge of Muslim Affairs. The Muslim community’s perception of MUIS as a body unduly influenced by the state was articulated by PERGAS (Islamic Scholars Association of Singapore) President, Uztaz Hasbi, in 2003. He pronounced that PERGAS had to serve as the moral anchor for Muslims in Singapore as ‘MUIS could not do it….MUIS is a statutory board, they must serve the interests of the state. It is our responsibility to serve the interests of the Muslim community’ (cited in Kadir 2007: 150). Similarly, many Muslim community organisations are subjected to government influence by their reliance on state funding and the dominant position of PAP politicians in these organisations. For example, the Chairman of the Muslim self-help organisation Mendaki is a PAP Minister, Yaacob Ibrahim. Several PAP MPs are also on Mendaki’s Board of Directors. Moreover, the state managed Central Provident Fund facilitates the collection of Mosque Building Fund contributions while the Singapore Constitution provides for special religious and personal laws and Shariah (Islamic) courts for Muslims.

Thus despite the legislative and policy mechanisms which ostensibly reinforce the separation of religion and politics, the state continues to intrude into the religious sphere. It would thus appear that the separation of religion and politics only applies to the citizenry and not the PAP government.

It is worth noting that the PAP government is supportive of faith based welfare organisations playing a prominent role in assisting the socially disadvantaged. This is consistent with the government’s ‘many helping hands’ welfare approach which serves to minimise its welfare expenditure. Mosques have long provided social services in the form of remedial tuition classes, pilgrimage and Arabic language classes, bursaries, food vouchers for low-income families, counselling services and rehabilitation programs for reforming delinquents and criminal offenders.

ALIGNING RELIGION TO NATION-BUILDING OBJECTIVES
Sensitive to the power of religion to mobilise and motivate, the PAP government has selectively coopted and harnessed the potential of religion in achieving its nation-building objectives (Tan 2008: 66-7). Religion has been perceived as a means of providing moral ‘ballast’ and a means of countering the supposedly negatively values associated with modernity (Pereira 2005: 171-2). The harnessing of religion for political ends was exemplified by the introduction in 1984 of compulsory Religious Knowledge classes for upper secondary school students -ostensibly a means of helping the younger generation maintain their moral values in the face of purportedly corrosive Western influences.3

The promotion of Religious Knowledge classes in schools complemented the PAP leadership’s concerted promotion of Confucianism and its paternalistic style of authoritarian governance by a technocratic class of scholar-mandarins. In political terms, Confucianism provided the cultural and moral capital for legitimising deference to authority. However, when it became evident that religious revivalism and proselytisation was on the rise, and most Chinese students were electing to study Buddhist Studies and Bible Knowledge rather than Confucianism, the PAP government finally ‘pulled the plug’ on compulsory Religious Knowledge classes in 1990. Confronted by these unintended consequences, Compulsory Religious Knowledge was replaced by a civics and moral education program. However, the promotion of Confucian values persisted with the construction in 1991 of a national ideology or civil religion referred to as ‘Shared Values’ based on codifying five precepts that strongly integrated Confucian principles.4 Importantly, the ‘Shared Values’ ideology constitutes a rejection of liberal democratic principles based on an adversarial system of politics.

Even though faith communities have been prohibited from engaging in political activities, they have been expediently encouraged to work with the PAP government in advancing its nation-building project. For example, the PAP government has been careful to consult the views of religious organisations when implementing policies that directly impact on religious morality. Consultations occurred during the managed public discussions on controversial issues such as the MRHA, regulation of madrasahs (Islamic religious schools), liberalisation of gaming laws and bioethics research. However, once the proposed law or policy is implemented, the public and civil society are expected not to campaign against it even though they may have opposed the proposal.5
CONSTITUTIONAL GUARANTEES AND LEGISLATIVE RESTRICTIONS
Singapore’s Constitution provides for freedom of speech, assembly, association and religion. In particular, Article 12 guarantees equality before the law and freedom from racial and religious discrimination, Article 14 provides for freedom of expression and Article 15 religious freedom and practice. Similarly, Article 16(2) and Article 16(3) provides for every religious group the right to establish and maintain educational institutions and offer instruction or take part in any ceremony or act or worship of a religion other than their own. However, while Article 15 provides the right to religious freedom and practice, this right is subject to citizens not engaging in any act contrary to the law relating to public order, public health or morality. This conditional right allows the PAP government to determine ‘appropriate’ religious activity.

Numerous laws and administrative policies have restricted the constitutional and civil rights of Singaporeans on the grounds of national security and public order. Many of these laws and administrative policies, such as the Internal Security Act (ISA), Societies Act and Sedition Act were initially designed by the British colonial authorities in their Cold War campaign against communist and other radical nationalists. The PAP government not only retained these illiberal laws and policies but expanded their scope and reach. Significantly, these laws and administrative policies have been criticised by international bodies such as the International Commission of Jurists, Amnesty International, Asia Watch and Human Rights Watch for their failure to conform to international law.

The existence of detention without trial laws has made it problematic for the Singapore government to ratify the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights 1966 and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights 1966 and contradicts its ratification of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR). These draconian laws have also made it problematic for the formation of a national Human Rights Commission – long established in neighbouring Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand and the Philippines and in the process of formation in the regional grouping ASEAN.

Despite Singapore’s ratification of the UDHR, the PAP government remains uneasy with the human rights ideals enshrined in the declaration. Reflecting the government’s ambivalent attitude towards the UDHR at a function commemorating its 60th anniversary in December 2008, Singapore’s ambassador-at-large Tommy Koh remarked that human rights will always take a back seat to other national interests. Employing the logic of moral equivalence, Koh pronounced that all states were guilty of collective hypocrisy in their practice of human rights: ‘All of us, whether we are Europeans, Americans or Asians, are guilty of collective hypocrisy. We are all moral degenerates on a level playing field’ (Yong 2008). This logic of moral equivalence is clearly an attempt by the Singapore government to ‘normalise’ its less than salutary human rights record.

The Sedition Act provides for criminal offences relating to race and class – these include defiling a place of worship, disturbing a religious assembly, uttering words or sounds to deliberately wound religious feelings. It is thus an offence to promote feelings of ill-will between the different ethnic groups or classes of the population. In 2005, three bloggers were convicted under the Act for posting web-blog comments that were anti-Muslim. In 2007, a person received a stern warning for posting an offensive cartoon of Jesus and in the following year, a couple was charged for distributing publications that were seditious and objectionable to Muslims. In these publications, Islam was referred to as a ‘dangerous’ faith (Chong 2008).

Under the Societies Act, the registration of a society is not automatic but subject to inquiry by the Registrar of Societies. This requirement provides the government with a powerful means of
proscribing religious groups deemed to be prejudicial to public peace, welfare or good order (Chong 2008). As the Societies Act prohibits the political engagement of organisations not specifically registered for that purpose, it has been effective in intimidating and threatening the non-registration or de-registration of civil society actors that have been overtly critical of government policies. Faith groups that have run foul of the government’s nation-building agenda and suffered deregistration include Jehovah’s Witness (JW) and the Unification Church, deregistered in 1972 and 1982 respectively. The former was deregistered because the government does not recognise its conscientious objection to military service. To date, 26 Jehovah’s Witnesses continue to be imprisoned for refusing to enlist in compulsory military service.6 Significantly, deregistration disallows these churches from holding public meetings. The government has also banned all written materials published by the Jehovah’s Witness.

Draconian legislation such as the International Security Act (ISA) has strongly engendered a culture of fear. Initially used by the British against communists and radical nationalists in the tumultuous colonial and immediate post-colonial era, the ISA allows for renewable detention without trial for two year periods. The ISA has been invoked against those deemed to be acting in a manner prejudicial to Singapore’s security. The Act is typical of governance by the ‘rule by law’ in authoritarian states where the executive routinely overrides the other arms of the state such as the judiciary and legislature. It allows the executive the right of not having to provide evidence against detainees to the courts. These executive privileges are based on the premise that the public has faith in the integrity of the executive and state security agencies to conduct due diligence.

Whereas the Malaysian government has been under considerable pressure by civil society campaigns for the abolition of the ISA, civil society in Singapore appears to be too emasculated and intimated to launch a similar campaign lest they stand accused of undermining the national interest or acting on behalf of sinister anti-national agents.

MANUFACTURING CONSENT
Singapore’s long-serving PAP government has systematically blocked potential challenges to its hegemonic status by undermining independent centres of power -utilising techniques that vary from the crude to the sophisticated (Rodan 2009). Since the 1990s, there has been a trend towards relying less on draconian security laws and more on law suits, administrative policies and legislation to discipline critics and maintain the political hegemony of the PAP. New structures such as the Nominated Member of Parliament (NMP) draw on individuals with specialist expertise from functional groups in society. It is worth noting that individuals and representatives from Muslim organisations have been regularly appointed as NMPs. These corporatist initiatives are in line with the PAP leadership’s aversion to the politics of contestation and preference for the politics of consensus and managed ‘active citizenship’ when developing public policy (Rodan 2009). Rodan has observed that this style of consensus politics and ‘active citizenship’ has essentially ‘updated the ideological rationale for the de facto one-party state’ and is geared towards ‘expanding the political space of the state rather than any greater toleration of independent, collective organisations engaged in political competition with, or mobilization against, the PAP’ (Rodan 2009).

The PAP’s ostensible promotion of consensus politics has been characterised by Cherian George as a sophisticated form of calibrated coercion based on refining authoritarian modes of control by a less frequent recourse to arbitrary arrest and skilfully choosing the ‘right tools of repression for the right job’(George 2007). When repression is employed, it is carefully targeted at individual organisers of dissent or groups who are in turn thoroughly discredited by agencies of the state such as the compliant mainstream media for undermining public order or the national security.

Consent is also maintained by promoting the PAP government’s reputation for ‘good governance’, strongly reliant on delivering sustained economic growth, providing social services and enhancing the material well-being of the citizenry. It is worth noting that PAP hegemony has been made less problematic by the relatively weak small and medium enterprises sector and the reluctance of foreign investors and businesses operating in the city-state who are primarily concerned with accruing profits and inclined to practice self-censorship rather than directly confront the authoritarian state (Rodan 2004). Consent has been facilitated by the authoritarian government’s cultivation of a depoliticised but highly materialistic homo economicus society inculcated with an individualistic kiasu (obsessive fear of losing out) mindset. Indeed, many political observers such as Kenneth Tan have argued that materialism remains the basis of the PAP’s political legitimacy (Tan K 2007).

Chua Beng Huat purports that the principle of multiracialism has been transformed into an instrument of social control by officially racialising the identity boundary of Singaporeans. In this way, each Singaporean is expected to be embedded in their officially designated race by the state. The Chinese Singaporean is thus supposed to be Confucianist and speak Mandarin while Malay Singaporeans are supposed to be steeped in Islamic knowledge and cultural practices (Chua 2003). Constant reminders of the tenuousness of racial harmony serve to justify the vigilant policing of racial issues. Public discussion of sensitive racial issues have been swiftly suppressed and those raising such issues such as racial discrimination in the labour market and discriminatory policies in the Singapore Armed Forces and who challenge the propriety of government policies have been publicly rebuked or condemned as racial chauvinists. As a consequence of this tight policing, racial harmony has remained superficial and premised on the tolerance of difference rather than a genuine appreciation and valuing of cultural difference (Chua 2003: 75).

The promotion of a survival and crisis discourse centred on reminding Singaporeans of the vulnerabilities associated with being a resource poor and largely Chinese city-state surrounded by larger, densely populated, resource rich and potentially hostile Muslim states has reinforced the stature of the PAP as guardians of the predominantly Chinese populace. The survival discourse is particularly convenient for the authoritarian PAP government as it represents an effective means of rallying the masses behind an ethno-nationalist rhetoric that rationalises high defense spending and compulsory national service (Rahim 2009).
SOCIO-POLITICAL ROOTS OF ‘RELIGIOUS CONFLICTS’
‘Religious conflicts’ in the 1950s and 1960s have been expediently highlighted by the PAP government to justify draconian administrative policies and laws in the name of national interest, public order or security. For example, the Hertogh riots in December 1950 has become somewhat of an icon in the authoritarian state’s characterisation of Singapore society as being susceptible to destabilisation along religious and ethnic lines. According to the official narrative, the Hertogh riots, which left 18 people dead and 173 injured, were triggered by a custody dispute over a girl of Dutch ancestry who had been raised by a Malay Muslim family during the Japanese Occupation and married under Shariah (Islamic) law. However, religion was only one of a variety of factors that contributed to the riots. Aljunied’s (2008) study suggests that the riots were strongly fuelled by the Muslim community’s myriad grievances which included a low regard for the colonial authorities, the influence of radical ideas, the effects of socio-economic marginalisation, press sensationalisation and the ineffectiveness of the police force and other colonial security agencies.
In 1964, a skirmish during a procession commemorating the Prophet Muhamad’s Birthday sparked off a riot which left 33 dead and 600 injured. Like the Hertogh riots, the 1964 riot was not religiously based but strongly fuelled by the political bickering between the PAP and Alliance leadership in the contest for Malay electoral support during the tumultuous merger years. This political tension was aggravated further by Indonesian agent provocateurs based in Singapore and inflammatory journalism. Without the existence of genuine Malay socio-economic and political grievances, the provocation of these myriad forces would not have been effective (Rahim 2008).
MANUFACTURING CRISIS – 1987 ‘MARXIST CONSPIRACY’
Twenty-two social activists were detained without trial under the ISA in 1987 for allegedly engaging in a Marxist conspiracy and attempting ‘to overthrow the Government and establish a communist state’ (Straits Times 1987). Instructively, these so-called Marxist conspirators were associated with the Student Christian Movement of Singapore, the National University of Singapore Catholic Students Society, the Singapore Polytechnic Catholic Students Society, the Justice and Peace Commission of the Catholic Church and the Catholic Welfare Centre (Tey 2008). Writing about the 1987 detentions more than a decade after the event, human rights advocate Geoffrey Robertson QC contends that the detentions stemmed from Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew’s anxiety over liberation theology, particularly after Marcos was toppled in the Philippines.

Political turbulence in the Philippines had apparently instigated Singapore’s Internal Security Department (ISD) to closely monitor all Catholics who espoused ‘subversive’ ideals such as liberation theology. The ISD director warned Singapore’s Archbishop that ‘there were too many ‘truth and justice’ columns in Catholic publications’. Following the latter’s disregard of these warnings, Lee then urged the Vatican to send an Archbishop who would be inclined to deter priests from engaging in politics (Robertson 2008: 238). Lee was apparently angered by the opportunity granted to the relatives of the detainees to address a Catholic congregation in the cathedral (Robertson 2008: 237). Dismissing the Government’s allegation that the detainees were engaged in a Marxist conspiracy, Robertson has characterised these social activists as ‘do-gooders who wanted to help the poor and the dispossessed’ (Robertson 2008: 233).

The 1987 ISA arrests have had a profound impact on the PAP dominated state’s regulation of religion. Roundly criticised by the international community for the alleged physical and psychological abuse of the detainees, the government introduced a constitutional amendment that would henceforth exclude the process of judicial review from all preventative detention cases under the ISA. Not long after, the MRHA was introduced, enforcing the separation of religion from politics.
RE-REGULATING RELIGION – MAINTENANCE OF RELIGIOUS HARMONY ACT (MRHA) 1990
Nearly 20 years after the passage of the MRHA, the following questions remain salient: What is so unique about Singapore that justifies its status as the only country in the world to legislate the separation of religion and politics? Why has the Sedition Act rather than the MRHA been invoked against those alleged to have caused religious ill-will? What political purpose does the MRHA serve in the PAP dominated authoritarian state?
An historical contextualising of the above questions is useful in providing a nuanced understanding of ‘religious conflicts’ in Singapore. As noted above, the PAP government had closely monitored the activities of Christian social activists influenced by liberation theology popular in countries afflicted by enormous socio-economic and political challenges. In the Philippines, the dictator Ferdinand Marcos had been ousted in the mid-1980s by a popular revolt supported by Cardinal Sin and many within the clergy who stood in defiant solidarity with the masses. In Iran, the secular monarch Reza Shah was overthrown in 1979 and replaced by a
theocratic state led by Islamic clerics. In particular, Iran’s Islamic revolution had galvanised millions in the Muslim World against corrupt and authoritarian secular oriented regimes. The Islamic state became an increasingly popular alternative to secular oriented failed and weak states in the Muslim World.
From the mid-1980s, Malaysia’s Prime Minister Mahathir expediently launched an Islamisation campaign geared towards ‘out-Islamising’ the opposition Islamist party PAS, while Indonesia’s President Suharto shrewdly incorporated Islamists into the quasi-secular Pancasila state apparatus. The religious fervour of these political convulsions in the Middle East and Islamist strategising in Southeast Asia unsettled the secular-minded PAP government -operating in the midst of Southeast Asia’s Muslim World and positioned just north of the most populous Muslim country in the world. The PAP leadership’s apprehensions have only been heightened by the activities of Islamic militants since the ‘war on terror’.
The globalised city-state has not been immune from the global religious revivalism. In the 1980s, the PAP leadership expressed concerns about the growing number of Singaporeans converting to Christianity despite its systematic promotion of Confucianism. This trend was thought to have the potential of unsettling religious harmony due to the numerical decline of faiths such as Hinduism and Buddhism. This concern was confirmed by a 1986 Internal Security Department (ISD) report which highlighted the prevalence of inter-religious tensions, incidence of aggressive proselytisation and exploitation of religion for political and subversive purposes (Sinha 2005: 2728). Justifying the need for legislation to pre-empt possible religious tensions, the Minister of Law, S. Jayakumar advised that ‘To contemplate legislation after the damage is done will be too late. Violence would have occurred. People killed. Deep feelings of resentment and wounded feelings would divide our society’ (Straits Times 1990b). The Minister had essentially echoed the PAP government’s view that as religion is prone to disorder and instability, only the rational secular state can prevent this religiously generated disorder (Kiong 2007).
During the carefully managed debate on the proposed MRHA, opposition politicians and members of the Muslim and Christian communities sought clarification on the motives for the proposed legislation and the unbridled power of the Minister of Home Affairs in the legislation. At a forum organised by the Evangelical Fellowship of Singapore, the congregation was keen to know why the proposed legislation was needed in view of existing legislation which addressed religious strife (Sinha 2005: 31). The President of the Graduates Christian Fellowship warned that the proposed Bill would curb discussion of sensitive topics in its seminars and generate fear that any discussion of sensitive topics might be reported to the government (Sinha 2005: 31). Even though the government-appointed Mufti (highest Muslim religious authority) supported the proposed Bill (Straits Times 1990a), the President of the Adult Religious Students Association and Muhammadiyah Association were concerned that the proposed Bill would prohibit Muslims from countering deviant teachings within their community. Other Muslim organisations wondered how far missionary activity would be allowed and what constituted legitimate missionary activity (Sinha 2005: 31). Several religious leaders expressed the view that the separation of religion and politics was inconsistent with their faith (Eng 2008: 625). PAP MP Aline Wong frankly acknowledged that the proposed Bill caused anxiety within some religious communities who saw it as ‘yet another layer of control by the government’ (cited in Sinha 2005: 33).

The Singapore Democratic Party critiqued the proposed Bill for representing ‘an invasion of politics into religion’ and allowing it to be applied arbitrarily by the government. Similarly insightful was the observation of opposition MP Chiam See Tong who dismissed the proposed Bill for enabling the PAP government to ‘tighten control over every aspect of Singapore life’, even further stifle political dissent and use the Bill as ‘an instrument of repression’(cited in Sinha 2005: 33). Another salient criticism centred on the ambiguity of terminology in Sections 8 and 9 of the proposed Bill. This includes terms such as ‘religious harmony’, ‘harmful conduct’, ‘appropriate religious behaviour’, ‘ill-will’, ‘carrying out activities to promote a political cause’, ‘carrying out subversive activities’ and ‘exciting disaffection’. The Mufti and Head of the Catholic Church called for less unambiguous terminology in the proposed Bill while PAP MP Lau Ping Sim reminded the government that the line between religion and politics was ambiguous and subject to diverse interpretations (cited in Sinha 2005: 33).

The ambiguous wording of the Bill has only reinforced suspicions that the PAP government is intent on restraining religious leaders and faith based social activists who, like the 1987 Catholic ‘Marxist conspirators’, venture beyond the narrow political parameters permitted to civil society in the authoritarian state. Importantly, the Bill serves as a stern reminder that political activity must be restricted to secular activity and thus not the appropriate domain for religious leaders and others associated with faith communities.

As the MRHA has never been invoked, many Singaporeans are inclined to view it as yet another initiative of the PAP leadership who are acutely sensitive to potential nodes of political resistance to its hegemony. Singaporean academic Tsun Hong Tey purports that ‘It [MRHA] expresses the ideological position of the government, underscores the political leadership’s deep distrust of the electorate and opposition. More importantly, the Act serves to cleanse religion from the central political space’ (Tey 2008: 120). Instructively, the government has not explained why religious issues conducted in the private arena should be less combustible that those aired in public forums. The government has also failed to explain why or how religious debate in the political arena is more inflammatory than arenas such as the newspaper (Tey 2008: 26). Furthermore, preexisting legislation such as the ISA, Sedition Act and Societies Act can readily be invoked to deal
with religious conflict. Under these Acts, the Minister is already granted with the power of restraint. To specifically address the issue of religious conflict, the Sedition Act, could have been amended to include the word religion, rendering obsolete the need for an MRHA (Tey 2008: 130). This point is made more salient by the fact that the MRHA, like the Sedition Act and ISA, is designed to protect the security of the state (Rajah 2008: 288).
Following the managed consultations with various interested parties which included religious leaders, opposition politicians and lay people, the MRHA was passed in 1990, even though the Singapore Constitution makes no mention of the separation of religion and politics. As a Constitutional Court does not exist, the judiciary notoriously compliant and subjected to executive influence, and opposition parties remain relatively weak, the constitutionality of the MRHA has remained untested.
POLICING MUSLIMS -THE NO-TUDUNG POLICY
The tudung (hijab or headscarf) has become one of the most contentious sites of conflict between Muslims and non-Muslims and among Muslims around the world. The issue has been the centre of heated national debates in states as diverse as Britain, France, Turkey, Germany, Singapore and Australia. These debates directly relate to the prevalent notions of national identity and values, multiculturalism and the acceptable attire in public schools and the larger society.
As schools are commonly viewed as sites that reflect and shape the character of the nation-state, they have long been ideological battlegrounds in determining the nation-building agenda. In countries where wearing the tudung in school continues to be contentious, it is not just national identity but also national secular identity that is deemed to be at stake (Abraham 2006: 170). For example, when Liberal party politicians Bronwyn Bishop and Sophie Panopoulos proposed a ban on headscarves in Australian schools in 2005, the former declared that wearing headscarves was ‘a sign of defiance and difference between Muslim and non-Muslim students’ and ‘when you have a clash of cultures, the dominant culture is the one that you follow and that’s ours’ (Abraham 2006: 183). Particularly for politicians from conservative political parties in the West who have long held reservations about the propriety of multicultural social policies,7 the tudung is commonly viewed as a ‘trojan horse’ or a slippery slope which will, if not vigilant, undermine public education and the cohesion of society. Moreover, allowing some Muslim girls to wear the tudung is expected to compromise the ability of other Muslim girls to choose not to wear it (Fetzer and Soper 2005).
In Britain, the veiling of Muslim women has been commonly projected as an obstacle to meaningful communication, a symbol of the rejection of modernity and refusal to integrate into mainstream British society. Multiculturalism is commonly criticized for granting too much tolerance to ethnic and religious minorities and undermining ‘European values and culture’.
Significantly, critics of multiculturalism and cultural diversity have attributed discrimination faced by Muslims in the workplace and the larger society to their own anti-modern practices such as veiling.
The no-tudung policy for schoolgirls in Singapore has raised questions pertaining to the rights of religious minorities in the secular authoritarian state, its multicultural or multiracial identity, rights of children to education, actual religious obligations of Muslim women, the perceived threat of Islamic revivalism and the national security agenda of the predominantly Chinese society in an overwhelmingly Muslim region. Fuelled by insecurities associated with the ‘war on terror’, paranoia underpins much of the state’s response to Muslims campaigning against the no-tudung policy. This paranoia and fear appears to have extended to a fear of political and militant Islam, fear of conspiracy, fear of difference, fear of the weakening of an already fragile national identity and perhaps most significantly, the PAP government’s fear of loosening its grip on power. Khiabany and Williamson have referred to this Muslim phobia in many secular states as a form of ‘cultural fundamentalism’ that is reflective of a shift towards assimilation (Khiabany and Williamson 2008).
In many respects, Singapore’s intransigent no-tudung policy for Muslim schoolgirls bears many similarities to Turkey’s headscarf restriction policy. Even though Muslims in Singapore are a minority and Turkey is a Muslim majority state, both states exhibit secular fundamentalist and authoritarian tendencies. Despite the secular nature of the Singaporean and Turkish states, they have paradoxically acquired a strong degree of control over religious life and view secularism as essential to the centralisation of state power. Societal resistance to restrictions on the tudung has thus been viewed by many within the ruling elite as an assault on the integrity of the secular and modernising state -as enunciated by their authoritarian modernising founding fathers Lee Kuan Yew and Kemal Ataturk. An Naim has observed that this form of authoritarian state secularism is often ‘designed to enable the state to control religion rather than simply remove it from the public sphere’ (2008: 197). However, unlike Singapore, the constitutionality of the banning of headscarves in schools and public institutions has been repeatedly challenged within Turkish institutions such as the Constitutional Court8 and by the ruling pro-Islamist Justice and Development (AKP) government. Inter alia, Turkish critics of the headscarf ban claim that it violates the religious freedom of women and the principles of equal opportunity in education and employment (as enshrined in Article 24) while supporters of the ban cite Article 14 of the constitution.9
The Singapore government’s no-tudung policy for schoolgirls has been a longstanding source of grievance within the Muslim minority community. Muslim organisations and individuals have for many years lobbied the government in various forums to terminate the policy on theological, constitutional, human rights and educational grounds. PAP MPs have also privately lobbied senior government officials to terminate the policy (Straits Times 2002d). So why has the Singapore government persisted with its no-tudung policy when opposition to the policy within the Muslim community is pervasive?
Singapore’s no-tudung policy is based on the premise that a strict code governing school uniforms promotes ethnic integration and social cohesion. The tudung is thus perceived as a symbol of exclusiveness that impedes students from social interaction and constitutes a threat to national integration. In justifying the policy, the Ministry of Education (MOE) claims that ‘The government seeks to expand the common space Singaporeans share. Schools require pupils to wear uniforms, regardless of race, religion or social status. Allowing exceptions would fragment the common space and invite competing demands from different communities’ (cited in New York Times 2002). Yet, in reality, the MOE has allowed exceptions in the school dress-code. For example, Muslim girls have for some years been allowed to wear track pants for physical education classes. The tudung is also allowed in post-secondary institutions such as polytechnics and universities.
Rather than promoting ethnic integration and social cohesion, the no-tudung policy has paradoxically contributed to the steady rise in madrasah (Islamic school) enrolments. Parents who believe that the tudung is a fundamental requirement in Islam are inclined to educate their daughters in madrasah. This conservative interpretation of Islam has been encouraged by peak Muslim bodies such as MUIS and PERGAS who contend that wearing the tudung is a religious requirement.
To date, the government has not provided any empirical evidence to support the presumption that allowing Muslim headscarves in primary and secondary schools impedes national unity. Indeed, some school principals contend that students who had donned the tudung in the past did not disrupt social integration in class (Davie 2002). This view contradicts Prime Minister Goh Chok Tong’s claim that Singaporean society was not well integrated enough for the government to overturn the no-tudung policy (Straits Times 2000). Moreover, the government’s rationale for the no-tudung policy contradicts its energetic support for and funding of the predominantly mono-ethnic Special Assistance Plan (SAP) schools, geared towards maintaining Chinese culture. The policy of allowing Sikh schoolboys to wear the turban in national schools highlights the lack of even-handedness in the government’s no-tudung policy.
Critics of the no-tudung policy have also pointed out that in many countries in the West, such as Britain, Australia and the United States, Muslim schoolgirls are permitted to wear the headscarf in public and independent schools. Even in France where Muslim girls are not permitted to wear the headscarf in public schools, other religious emblems such as turbans, skullcaps and crosses have been banned ostensibly to preserve the secular tradition of French society. Significantly, Singapore’s no-tudung policy may also be in breach of the Singapore government’s obligations to Articles 14, 27, 29 and 30 of the International Convention on the Rights of the Child
and Article 10 of the United Nations Convention for the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW).
CAMPAIGN OF RESISTANCE
The contentious no-tudung policy came to a head in early 2002 when a handful of Muslim parents insisted on their primary school daughters donning the tudung and dressing in a modified uniform. When the schoolgirls-in-tudung were suspended for repeatedly flouting the school uniform policy their parents protested that they had been deprived of their constitutional right to religious freedom. References were made to Article 15(1) of the Singapore Constitution which provides that ‘every person has the right to profess and practise his religion and to propagate it’ (Rahim 2003: 12). Instructively, the constitutionality of the no-tudung policy was prevented from being tested in the Singapore courts when Karpal Singh, the Malaysian legal counsel for the four suspended schoolgirls-in-tudung was denied a practising certificate by the Singapore Supreme Court even though he had been permitted to represent Singaporean clients in the past (Ahmad 2002). If Singh had been allowed to represent the suspended school girls it would have been the first time in Singapore’s history than civilians were taking the government to court.
Despite the untested constitutional standing of the no-tudung policy and inconsistencies in the school uniform code, Muslim PAP politicians and the government-appointed Mufti, the highest religious authority, urged the girls to return to school without the tudung. They claimed that Islam did not require young pre-adolescent girls to wear the tudung and that if a choice had to be made, Islam accords higher priority to education than it does to the wearing of a headscarf (Straits Times 2002c). Instructively, the Mufti’s position was not only rejected by the suspended girl’s parents but also by PERGAS. PERGAS issued a statement a day after the Mufti’s position on the tudung that ‘it is the responsibility of every individual Muslim to strive as best he/she can to remove whatever causes which obstruct the fulfilment of one’s religious duties’ (Cited in Kadir 2007: 148). On the moot issue of the four suspended schoolgirls-in-tudung not having attained puberty, PERGAS was equally sympathetic and commented: ‘Although their children have not yet attained the age of puberty and discernment (baligh), the [parents] view the inculcation of modesty [in dressing] to be an [intrinsic and] important element of their children’s education that should be instilled while still young’ (cited in PERGAS 2004: 344). Concerned by the lack of public discussion on the no-tudung policy, the PERGAS leadership noted that ‘it is regretted that several people including those regarded as community leaders, have made statements which clamour for the closure of further discussions just because the Mufti had made a statement…. PERGAS likewise affirms the view that the hijab is not an obstacle to national integration. Therefore the door for further discussions should continue to remain open’ (PERGAS 2004: 246).
While PERGAS was allowed to contradict the Mufti and PAP Muslim MPs with impunity, Fateha’s spirited campaign against the no-tudung policy drew a response that was more characteristic of the PAP government’s draconian record of dealing with dissenting organisations that adopt an adversarial approach. In a bold challenge to the government’s out-of-boundary (OB) markers, Fateha announced its intention to ‘nationalise and if necessary internationalise Malay issues’ without being ‘cowed by political expediency’ (Shariff 2004: 345). Replicating PERGAS’s outspoken position on issues related to Islam and the Muslim community, Fateha submitted a petition endorsed by 3,300 Singaporeans opposed to the government’s no-tudung policy. Staffed by volunteers who were apparently galvanised by an earlier campaign to protect the future of madrasahs against the implementation of compulsory education in national schools, Fateha attempted to raise S$100,000 to fund its anti-no-tudung policy campaign (Shariff 2004: 345).
Even before its campaign against the no-tudung policy, Fateha had come under intense pressure when its Chief Executive Zulfikar Mohamad Shariff, in a BBC interview conducted shortly after the ISA arrests in late 2001 of alleged Muslim militants, criticised the PAP government for being insensitive to the concerns of the local Muslim community by ‘aligning itself so closely with the US and Israel’ (Straits Times 2002a).
Following the BBC interview, Fateha issued a press statement in January 2002 which boldly suggested that the existence of alleged Jemaah Islamiah (JI) militants ‘signals a deeper problem’ in the Singaporean polity. It pointedly asserted that ‘the motivation for the act seems to be the US army in Singapore. It is incorrect to merely label them as terrorists and leave it at that’ (Shariff 2004: 336-46). Put simply, Fateha sought to contradict the PAP leadership’s assertion that the alleged JI detainees were solely a product of the radical international Islamist movement rather than localised grievances. Despite the Muslim community’s intractable marginal socio-economic and political status, Lee Kuan Yew has consistently asserted that local Muslim militants and the Muslim community in general did not have legitimate grievances against the PAP government: ‘Their actions had nothing to do with local conditions…They want a cause, and the leaders captured them and dragged them along…’ (Millard 2004: 83).
In further defiance of the restricted political parameters in the authoritarian state, Zulfikar played host to Malaysian politicians from the Islamist party Parti Islam Se-Malaysia (PAS), whose visit to Singapore in May 2002 was intended to provide moral support to the anti-no-tudung policy campaigners (Straits Times 2002f). Much to the chagrin of the PAP leadership, PAS had set up a fund geared towards collecting one ringgit from each Malaysian to support the anti-no-tudung policy campaigners (Straits Times 2002e). Malaysian politicians from the United Malays National Organisation (UMNO), People’s Justice Party (Keadilan) and the Democratic Action Party, and their counterparts in Brunei, uniformly denounced the no-tudung policy.
International scrutiny of the policy was intensified after probing articles were published in the New York Times (Mydans 2002) and Time (Asia) (Elegant 2002), which placed the PAP government on a defensive footing. In particular, the New York Times contention that ‘the result of Singapore’s race policies have been peace not integration, with the upper echelons of society disproportionately Chinese’ (Mydans 2002) contradicted the PAP government’s projection of the city-state as an oasis of meritocracy and multiracialism. Weighting in on the debate, international NGOs such as Karamah (the Association of Muslim Women’s Lawyers for Human Rights) voiced their objections to Singapore’s no-tudung policy. In 2002, Karamah lodged an official letter of protest to the Singapore government at the Singapore embassy in Washington DC. Inter alia, the organisation accused the Singapore government of violating its constitutional obligations of upholding religious freedom.
At the height of the no-tudung controversy, the Singapore Broadcasting Authority (SBA) demanded that Fateha register its Internet portal as a political website. By July 2002, Zulfikar’s computer was seized and he was taken in for questioning. Moreover, Fateha members were alleged to have been subjected to severe harassment and intimidation. Their telephones and e-mails were tapped and movements monitored and Zulfikar’s family members were apparently ‘advised’ by anonymous phone callers to leave Singapore (Shariff 2004: 345-6). Shortly after criminal defamation proceedings were filed against him, Zulfikar fled Singapore for Australia, claiming a lack of confidence in the independence of the judiciary (Rodan 2004: 517).
LOCALISED MUSLIM GRIEVANCES
How accurate is Zulfikar’s claim that the PAP government has been insensitive to the concerns of the Muslim community and that the detention of alleged JI militants in Singapore signals a ‘deeper problem’ in Singapore’s supposedly meritocratic society? What are we to make of the statement of opposition politician J.B. Jeyaretnam that ‘It is not the wearing of the tudung by Muslim girls and women that will divide the communities …It is the policies that have been carried out by the government that divided the communities’ (Netto 2002)? How accurate is the New York Times claim that the policies of the Singapore government have contributed to a disproportionate representation of Chinese in the upper echelons of society? To what extent have the marginalised status and localised grievances of the Muslim community contributed to the existence of militant Islamists in the city-state?
Consistent with Rahim’s (2001) study of the contradictions in Singapore’s supposedly multiracial paradigm, Barr and Skrbis’s (2008) recent scrutiny of the PAP government’s nation-building project highlights the serious disjuncture in the rhetoric and reality of multiracialism and meritocracy. Barr and Skrbis (2008) purport that since the early 1980s, an aggressive program of assimilation has accompanied the emergence of an increasingly racialised and elitist society.
Moreover ‘ethno-racial hierarchies permeate every aspect of Singapore society even though the official discourse of multiracialism …obscures this reality’ and ‘a Singapore version of Chinese ethno-nationalism’ (Barr and Skrbis 2008: 10-13) has dominated Singapore national identity. They characterise this phenomena as incomplete assimilation – where ethnic minorities are paradoxically pressured into mimicking the Chinese in order to succeed yet remain relegated to the margins of society (Barr and Skrbis 2008: 98). Significantly, they draw attention to the failure of the Chinese community to acknowledge their dominance or to consider the possibility that the Muslim community has remained along the socio-economic fringes of society because of the existence of discrimination in the workplace and wider community. In effect, the perpetuation of the rhetoric of meritocracy and multiracialism allows the Chinese to maintain their dominance in public life ‘from the high ground of neutral umpire’ (Barr and Skrbis 2008: 107).
The more than two decade exclusion and discrimination of Malays in the Singapore Armed Forces (SAF) is indicative of the contradiction in the practice of meritocracy and multiracialism in Singapore. This policy was finally acknowledged in the late 1980s but rationalised on the grounds of questionable Malay loyalty to the state. Justifying the government’s policy of institutionalised discrimination, Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew claimed that ‘it would be a very tricky business for the PAP to put a Malay officer who was very religious and who had family ties in Malaysia, in charge of a machine-gun unit’ (Straits Times 2001). The perpetual doubting of Muslim loyalty to the Chinese dominated state has contributed to the common perception of the community as untrustworthy and disloyal to the state -perceptions which have undercut religious and ethnic harmony. For example, a 2000 Straits Times survey on ethnic relations indicated that 46% of non-Malays believed that they could not trust Malays in the event of a war with a neighbouring Malay Muslim country. Moreover, 60% of non-Malays polled believed that it was necessary to check the background of a Malay officer before placing him in a sensitive position in the SAF (Osman 2000).
The ‘othering’ of Muslims has been reinforced further since the ‘war on terror’ due in no small part to Islamophobic reports in the mainstream local media and the ISA detention of alleged JI militants. There has been considerable pressure on Muslims to prove their loyalty following the urgings of the PAP leadership for Muslims to ‘speak up’ against Muslim militants. In 2004, Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew criticised Muslims for their supposed silence in the face of the Muslim terrorist activity in Singapore and around the world (Agence France Presse 2004). Having uncritically supported the US invasion and occupation of Iraq, the PAP government’s approach is reminiscent of the Bush administration’s ‘you are with us or against us’ mentality – allowing little space for grey areas. Placed ‘under the spotlight’, it is unsurprising that many Muslims in Singapore feel judged and arbitrarily slotted into categories of ‘moderate’, ‘extreme’, tudung wearing’ or ‘nontudung wearing’ (Ismail and Shaw 2006: 39). Their sense of alienation has been reinforced further by the realisation that the Chinese community in Singapore were never placed ‘under the spotlight’ or expected to publicly condemn the supposedly subversive activities of the 1987 ‘Marxist conspirators’, even though most of them were Chinese.
Reaffirming the perception of Malays as the ‘unintegrated other’, Lee Kuan Yew claimed in 2005 that Malays constituted a drag on Singapore’s nation-building project: ‘It’s [national integration] not been completely successful because the rate of intermingling is faster among certain groups than others. The Malay community now is centred on a mosque more than the other social centres we have built’ (Koh 2005a). Objecting to Lee’s callous remarks which totally disregards the national trend towards religiosity across all ethnic communities, a young Malay wrote to the Straits Times newspaper: ‘…I do not see how mosque-going Malays are different from my devout Christian friends who devote their weekends to church activities or the Buddhists and Hindus who perform prayers at big temples regularly’ (Straits Times 2005).10 With 86% of Singaporeans professing a religious faith, this national trend towards religiosity is demonstrated by the presence of numerous religious based welfare organisations, prominence of mega-churches and the more obvious prevalence of Muslim women donning the tudung (Lim and Low 2005).
Calls by the PAP leadership for Muslims to integrate into the larger society is ironic in view of the numerous surveys since the 1990s which consistently indicate that the Chinese community are the least integrated in terms of their interaction with Malays and Indians. These surveys suggest that the Chinese have less non-Chinese friends compared to Malays and Indians (Ooi 2005: 115). Ooi’s 2005 study of national integration found that Malays are the least affected/concerned by being among people of different races while the Chinese the most affected/concerned (2005: 118). Despite the empirical evidence of relatively strong Malay social integration, Malays have been paradoxically subjected to greater pressure to integrate than the less racially integrated Chinese community. This phenomenon is consistent with Barr and Skrbis’s (2008) incomplete assimilation thesis noted above.
The PAP government has consistently denied the significance of localised socio-economic and political grievances in motivating the alleged JI militants detained under the ISA. This denial is reaffirmed in the 2003 White Paper on the JI detainees in the following way: ‘These men were not ignorant, destitute or disenfranchised outcasts. All 31 had received secular education…they held normal, respectable jobs’ (White Paper 2003: 15). Yet the empirical data suggests otherwise. 9 of the 31 JI detainees in 2002 had lower than Cambridge ‘0’ level (equivalent to Year 10 in Australia) education and 6 were ‘exempted’ from military service (Tan 2003a; White Paper 2003). Similarly, 13 of the 15 JI detainees arrested in December 2001 had incomes below S$2,000 per month (Rodan and Hewison 2006: 112) and 4 of the 15 were ‘exempted’ from ‘compulsory’ military service (White Paper 2003). Affirming the marginal socio-economic status of the JI detainees, Straits Times columnist Tan Tarn How observed: ‘The onus so far has largely been placed on Muslims…But if their spiritual fervour is an effect rather than a cause of their marginalisation, then surely society at large needs to improve their situation…Finger pointing is not the best thing to do now. Self examination, on the other hand, is’ (Tan 2003b).
Likewise, Workers Party MP Low Thia Khiang has drawn attention to the political and social alienation and economic grievances that may have contributed to the radicalisation of JI detainees. During a parliamentary debate on the White Paper, Low noted that Muslims have conveyed to him their frustration with being discriminated, having their religion suppressed and being marginalised (Tan 2003b). Muslim alienation and frustration have no doubt been compounded further by the PAP government’s uncritical support for the US invasion and occupation of Iraq.
CONCLUSION
Like most industrialised societies, Singapore has been affected by renewed religiosity and post-traditional and new age spirituality. The political manifestations of this renewed religiosity are of concern to the PAP government. Intent on maintaining their political hegemony after 50 years of uninterrupted rule, the PAP government is acutely conscious of the potential of religion to be a powerful tool of protest against perceived injustices. As such, religion and religious institutions have been tightly regulated, via legislation such as the MRHA, to curtail the potential of religious institutions and groups in mobilising against the authoritarian state. Draconian legislation such as the MRHA, which proscribes the mixing of religion and politics, remains deliberately ambiguous in terms of where the line between religion and politics is drawn. This lack of clarity serves to reinforce the climate of uncertainty, self-censorship and fear. While the political dimensions of religious doctrine that seeks to promote social justice have been restricted, the government has encouraged a religious orientation that is individualist and materialist, that lacks social consciousness and that negates linkages between the spiritual, economic and political realms (Rahim et al 2001: 6).
The calibrated coercion against Fateha and other no-tudung policy campaigners, who believed it was their constitutional right and religious duty to challenge the no-tudung policy, illustrates the way by which the ambiguous distinction between religion and politics has served the authoritarian state. Just as Fateha was prevented from challenging the constitutionality of the MRHA in court, a public debate on the merits of the no-tudung policy was not allowed to take place. Robust public debate on this politically sensitive issue would have exposed the assimilationist contradictions in Singapore’s supposedly multiracial society. In many respects, the no-tudung campaign crystallised the myriad socio-economic and political grievances of the Malay Muslim community – grievances that have been denied or attributed to the community’s inherent failings. The maintenance of draconian legislation, stringent policing of the Muslim community and dismissal of genuine Muslim grievances does not bode well for the nurturing of religious harmony required for the promotion of a genuinely multiracial society based on justice for all Singaporeans.
1 For a comprehensive analysis of the socio-economic and political marginality of the Malay community, refer to Rahim (2001).
2 The IRCC and DRH were initiated from 2002 to promote interfaith dialogue and interaction. IRCCs consist largely of government and senior religious and community leaders. They organise activities in places of worship and inter-faith celebrations. The DRH is a non-legislative, non-enforceable code of conduct that is a government-led effort to exert moral suasion on religious leaders and believers. The rules of religious conduct are clearly laid out. See Tan (2008).
3 Students in the upper secondary levels were offered six options – Bible Knowledge, Buddhist Studies, Confucian Ethics, Hindu Studies, Islamic Religious Knowledge and Sikh Studies.
4 The five precepts are the family, religious and racial harmony, community support and consensus.
5 The anti-casino lobby included the Islamic Religious Council, Singapore Buddhist Federation, Hindu Endowments Board and the National Council of Churches.
6 Singapore’s Jehovah’s Witness community attempted to seek exemption from compulsory military service on the grounds of religious belief. Their appeal for exemption from military service was rejected by a 1996 Court of Appeal decision which ruled that actions arising from religious beliefs are unlawful if they offend against the requirements of public order or public service. Conscientious objection to compulsory military service was not tolerated as ‘the whole system of universal national service will become unstuck’ and that ‘the sovereignty, integrity and unity of Singapore are undoubtedly the paramount mandate of the constitution and anything, including religious beliefs and practices, which tend to run counter to these objectives must be restrained’. (Cited in Tan 2008: 63).
7 Multiculturalism commonly refers to polities that promote the equality and dignity of all communities and cultures and where the various communities build a common national identity while preserving their ethnic and cultural identity. There are various types of multicultural societies and no single doctrine of multiculturalism. In this essay, multiculturalism and multiracialism are used interchangeably.
8 In the 1980s, the Turkish Constitutional Court found that the law banning women from wearing ‘anachronistic clothing’ such as the headscarf was unconstitutional. Yet in 1998, the Constitutional Court banned headscarves from universities. (An Naim 2008: 207-8).
9 Article 14 of the Turkish constitution notes that ‘None of the rights and freedoms embodied in the constitution shall be exercised with the aim of violating the indivisible integrity of the state with its territory and nation, and endangering the existence of the democratic and secular order’ (Cited in An Naim 2008: 210).
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About Singapore

Patriotism and gratitude require reciprocity
Monday, 17 August 2009, 9:22 am 30 views

The following is by Mr Cheong Wing Lee in response to Canadian, Mr Eric J Brooks’s second letter to the Straits Times. Mr Cheong emigrated to Canada from Singapore and is now a Canadian citizen.

Dear Editor,
Mr. Brooks’ second letter published in ST reiterate that Singaporeans should be grateful for what they have. He cited more examples of the failed Canadian welfare system as compared to the successful welfare system that Singaporeans are enjoying but have taken for granted.

Again I am embarrassed by a fellow Canadian who misrepresented his own country. It is easy to verify what Mr Brooks had said through the Canadian High Commission or Amnesty International.

Canada may not have a perfect welfare system but having lived and worked in several countries myself, I must say that Canada is as good as anyone could wish for.

When I immigrated to Canada, I bought three cars for the price of one in Singapore and a 4,000 sq. ft house for the price of a 5-room HDB apartment. A similar house in Singapore would have cost S$2 million

Yes, the Canadian taxes are high but the citizens are well treated. For me, the savings on the purchase of the house and cars could pay my income tax for the rest of my life.

Every child in Canada gets free education from kindergarten to Grade 12, the equivalent of junior college in Singapore. Most schools are within walking distance from home. Free transportation is provided for students living farther away. Each child gets C$250 a month as “milk” allowance until 18 years of age. However this benefit may have been rescinded.

Contrary to what Mr. Brooks claimed, all my three children graduated from reputable universities in Canada without any problem. My children’s university education did not cost me much as my children were able to obtain grants and student loans to pay for their university fees. They took part-time jobs to supplement their pocket money.

The greatest joy for parents is to see the happiness expressed in their children’s eyes when they play in the beautiful parks during the summers, springs and autumns and snow in the winters. The satisfaction is more than money can buy. This is in contrast to the daily intensive tuition that Singapore children are subjected to.

Mr. Brooks’ assertion that many bright Canadian children are denied the opportunity to attend universities in Canada but could obtain full scholarships in Singapore is untrue. In fact it is the other way around. My niece who could not get into Singapore University, was admitted into a reputable American University. She finished her Masters, secured a good job and sadly did not return to Singapore.

In Canada, senior citizens are well respected and treated. Seniors travel free on public transport, i.e. the MRT, bus and ferry rides, from Mondays to Thursdays. They get discount for weekend travel, food and most purchases. They are entitled to old age pension and workman pension when they reach the age of 65. The combined income from these two pensions is about C$1,000 to C$2,000 or more a month. Seniors get subsidies for housing. Seniors can study in reputable universities and get a degree by paying a token fee of less than C$100 per semester.

When I was diagnosed with kidney failure, it cost the Canadian Healthcare C$80,000 a year for dialysis and medical treatments to keep me alive. I paid C$90 a month for healthcare insurance that covers both my wife and I. The Canadian healthcare pays for all hospital expenses including medications. It was free for me. When I travel overseas, my dialysis and medical expenses are reimbursed by Canadian healthcare up to the amount it costs in Canada.

The homeless issue was greatly exaggerated by Mr Brooks. This issue is universal and every country has its fair share of homeless people including Singapore. In Canada, most of the homeless people are there by choice because of their drug addiction. No amount of government assistance can help pay for their expensive habit. In Singapore, most of the homeless people are there because of economic reasons. They are either without pension and too old to get a job or abandoned by their children.

For Mr Eric Brooks to say that Canada has a failed welfare system is unfair and bias. Check with the Canada High Commission and verify what I said.

SM Goh Chok Tong can call us quitters and losers because he cannot see beyond his comfort zone. He has no worries. His job is secured for life and is paying him by the millions. It is little wonder that his wife said that $500,000 a year salary is peanuts. If he could only spend one day outside his comfort zone and live like an ordinary Singaporean drawing less than $2,000 a month with the anxiety of losing his job, the burden of getting his children through the fiercely competitive education system, the stress of living in a materialistic environment and the uncertainty of having a dignified retirement, SM Goh may then understand the plight of the ordinary citizens. It is easy for him to pass judgement when he already has everything.

Patriotism and gratitude require reciprocity. If a citizen feels unwanted and treated without respect, it is no shame for the outcast to seek greener pasture and realize his potential elsewhere. It would be naive to expect the outcast to be patriotic and risk his life to protect a privileged group who continue to reward themselves unchallenged by the millions.

My decision to immigrate was not politically motivated. It was based solely on the future of my family. I have three children when the Singapore government’s strict policy then was, “Two is enough”.

As for education, I was expelled from school at secondary two. I obtained an “O” level and a certificate from Singapore Vocational Institute (fore-runner of ITE) through evening classes. In a highly competitive society like Singapore where you are judged by academic excellence and materialistic possessions, my credentials would be sneered at. I would most likely be a minimum wage worker, praying not to get sick when I am old and retired.

The lifestyle difference between a typical Singaporean and a Canadian is that a Singaporean spends his life making a living, whereas a Canadian lives his life.

Regardless of all the negative misinformation that Mr. Eric Brooks has said about Canada, I am deeply beholden to Canada who has given me my self-respect, dignity and a chance to realize my potential. Most of all, a bright future for my children. Herein lies my gratitude.

Thank you, Canada.
Yours truly,
Wing Lee CheongNorth Vancouver, BC, Canada
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Read: Canadian tells Singaporeans to be grateful.
Read also: Mr Cheong’s first letter in response to Mr Brooks’s original letter to the Straits Times Forum: Be thankful to Canada, Mr Brooks.
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The following is a response from Amnesty International’s Coordinator for S’pore and Malaysia, Ms Margaret John.

A different view from Canada:

I understand that Canadian Eric J Brooks recently wrote to the Straits Times in praise of Singapore as a country that takes care of its citizens. He appears, however, to have only part of the total Singapore picture. For a fuller view, he has only to check Amnesty International’s information. There he will read about defamation suits and other restrictive measures used against opposition activists, human rights defenders, foreign media and conscientious objectors.
He may change his opinion of Singapore when he finds that a climate of fear and self-censorship discourages Singaporeans from fully participating in public affairs. And he may be shocked to discover that Singapore is believed to have one of the highest per capita rates of execution in the world (often after trials that fail to meet international standards for a fair trial). Has he discussed his views with Dr Chee Soon Juan, who has been imprisoned some seven times after attempts to exercise his right to freedom of expression?

Margaret JohnAmnesty InternationalCoordinator for Singapore and Malaysia