By Kylie Wong 14A01B, Lim Shao Min 14S03K, Gaius Ong 14A01B, John Cai (4A) and Ram Venkat (3C)

The Big House-Swop

2007 was a year marked with significant changes in RJC. The system of classifying students based on their subject combinations had become irrelevant and passé, as the revamped A-Level syllabus had removed the Double Math combination, rendering the Engineering Faculty obsolete. In addition, the Faculty system left much to be desired in terms of fairness—due to sheer numerical advantage, the Medicine Faculty (those who took the Triple Science combination) was winning every inter-Faculty competition there was!

Faced with a pressing need to change the system such that it would ensure a level playing field for all, a six-House system was initially proposed. However, after multiple discussions, the school staff decided that six was just too many—a five-House system would ensure an easier alignment with the House systems of RI and RGS, and would also better support the building of both schools’ identities as one Raffles. There were also concerns voiced by several staff members about possible conflicts of interests between the Student Council and the future House Committee. With two departments operating separately, the prospect of duplicate events vying for student participation was high. Dean of Student Development Ms Melissa Lim (RJC, 1992), who was involved with the transition process, put it this way, ‘You are eventually going to have either too many activities in the school or you’re going to have people competing to show that they can do more.’ Without proper communication on a regular basis, conflict and competition would have been inevitable. Thus, the team in charge of implementing the House system made the difficult decision to merge the Student Council and House Committee into one.

As such, students today have to first get elected into the Council to qualify for House Committee positions. However, this implementation of a whole new system was never easy—the team had to justify their reasons of expanding the Student Council from 50 to 90 members, with former Councillors casting  doubt over the reconstitution. It also took many rounds of discussion to decide on the allocation of roles among Student Councillors and House Committee members.

In retrospect, Ms Lim feels that the laborious effort put in to optimise the system initially has proved to be worth the effort in the long run, as the Student Council and House Committee now work synergistically. The Faculty system saw few, if any, bonding activities being organised to promote camaraderie, with Faculty spirit primarily being forged through the heat of battle. Today, however, the Houses strive for intra-House bonding and spirit, organising activities like House parties or games days.

‘Competition is not the only way to build House spirit. We want to highlight the fact that you can have different Houses having parties together or having events that are community-centred, such as a Buckle-Buckley community service day,’ points out Ms Lim. ‘In the process, you build a strong House culture and sense of belonging and thus from there, you build a sense of belonging to your school. It’s not just a competition-based sort of identity that we’re after, but a well-rounded one.’

Most students under the Faculty system of the past confess that they wish they had been part of a House instead. Mr Eng Han Seng (RI, 1989; RJC, 1991), who is Dean of Co-Curricular Activities, laments that the House spirit which his cohort forged in their first four years at RI was lost when they were sorted into their faculties over in RJC. Compared to students of today, Mr Eng says that the students in the past had more free time on their hands to participate in inter-Faculty activities, yet there were fewer such activities in his day. When asked about memorable Faculty cheers, Mr Eng cheekily remarked that they were none, mainly due to the fact that ‘students in my time were not really excited about cheering “Medicine, Medicine, all the way!”’

Imagined (but not Imaginary) Communities

Over on the Year 1–4 side ofthe school, inter-House rivalry continues to be as fierce as it has ever been. We caught up with two Exco members from the Year 1–4 Houses, Ryan Lim (4C, Buckley House Captain) and Nicholas Lui (4E, Bayley Vice-Captain) to find out about the issues facing the Year 1–4 Houses and where they see the Houses headed.

Weighing most heavily on Ryan’s mind was the tug of loyalty that Rafflesians experience between commitments to the House and their various other commitments. Faced with a choice between House events on the one hand and CCA or schoolwork on the other, most Rafflesians would plump for the latter. A related problem that he perceives is how ‘(House events) are spread across the year and as such, have a lessened impact on Rafflesians.’ Ryan sees a possible way forward—to ‘(concentrate) Inter- House Competitions into two or three intense weeks, instead of spreading them over the whole year.’ Beyond just allowing for greater commitment to House events, such an approach ‘would also free up much time in the other parts of the year for … House EXCOs to conduct fun and meaningful activities for House members, a step up from the current fixed House meetings we now have.’

Interestingly enough, Ryan’s observations parallel part of the thinking that informed the Year 5–6 switch from faculties to Houses—to supplement competition with camaraderie, as a means of building up House (and hence school) identity. After all, a House cannot be just about inter- House competition results. Such a result-oriented approach would be unsustainable, as it would require the perpetuation of good results for a sense of House spirit. As Nicholas puts it, ‘House spirit must go beyond medals and trophies.’ For Nicholas, a House needs to be home-like. ‘I envision Bayley becoming a place where Bayleyeans will feel at home. In this ideal Bayley, there would be a spirit of camaraderie, with seniors helping and guiding juniors in their schoolwork and other affairs.’

Such a sense of belonging is built on the notion of the House as an ‘imagined community’. It is imagined because this community is neither physically founded on geographical borders (Raffles is not that big
yet) nor the constant, consistent face-to-face interaction of every member with every other member in the House. Instead, it is organically evolved from the shared experiences that members go through, ultimately forming a shared memory.

Returning to his earlier concerns, Ryan shared that he sees these shared memories emerging both from competitions as well as non-competitive activities. He cites Dramafeste 2013 as his favourite House memory, but also hastens to add that ‘a House in Raffles should be a platform for students to add flavour to their experience in Raffles and have great things to look back on when they think about their Raffles journey’. It’s a laudable vision that the Rafflesian Times wholeheartedly endorses, and something which our Year 1–4 captains and Year 5–6 House Directorates are, without doubt, doing their best to realise for their fellow Rafflesians.

Editor’s Note: John Cai (4A) and Ram Venkat (3C) were not credited for their contributions to this article in the original print edition of the Rafflesian Times

By Allison Choong 14S05B , Bryan Chua 14A01A, Jeremy Khoo 14A01B, Law May Ning 14S03O, Lee Chin Wee 14A01B, Justin Tan Tse 4G and Khairillah Irwan 3B

It is the new form of confession: the anonymity of the confessional booth replaced by that of the Internet, and fellow Facebook users collectively donning the robe of the priest.  As they say, vox populi, vox dei.

We refer, of course, to the rise of Facebook confessions pages—originally conceived by varsity students in the US as a place where the normally unsayable could be broadcast to the world (or at least some fraction of it) under the guise of anonymity. The trend spread, and in February this year some enterprising Rafflesians took it upon themselves to set up the RJ Confessions page on Facebook.

At its inception RJ Confessions was dominated by two kinds of confessions: the ardent declaration of love, and its ne’er-do-well cousin, the ardent declaration of love on behalf of a friend. While it is unknown exactly what proportion of the early confessions were pranks rather than actual missives from the besotted and lovesick, we’ll go out on a limb and say that most of them were in jest. A choice morsel for your delectation:

 Hands off KJY please. I’ll be bearing his children, not you.

It seemed at the time that RJ Confessions (and sister pages like Raffles Confessions, a combined forum for both the Year 1–4 cohort and their future schoolmates from RGS) would simply be the latest in teenage infatuation and inanity on social media—hardly worthy of an entire article on the trend. Yet, standing as testament to the fluid nature of social media, RJ Confessions has become a place for people to share light-hearted moments from their lives, offer valuable advice to juniors, polemicise on controversial issues, vent their frustrations, give voice to their misery, or, as many do, profess their affection.

 From a sociological point of view, the Confessions page offers insight into current topics of interest among Rafflesians. It is perhaps analogous to someone who dedicates their time to moving about the corridors of the school listening in on conversations and broadcasting choice morsels to everyone else. Interesting issues have surfaced as a result; we examine some in greater detail below.

RAFFLESIAN IDENTITY

The popular and persistent notion of Rafflesian elitism has dogged Rafflesians for many years. While we are confident that many Rafflesians strive to act with humility in their daily lives, we also have to also acknowledge that Raffles is a bubble, and there is probably a cultural disconnect we have to overcome, especially for students who spend six years in the Raffles schools.

 A common complaint shared by quite a number of confessions is that Raffles breeds a suffocating, elitist attitude. Bluntly worded confessions such as ‘To the guy/girl who posted “I find the single digit acceptance rate among Rafflesians for Harvard, Yale and Princeton depressing”, I find this so sickening because it just shows how ignorant kids who have been living in the elite society since young are of the world out there’ have sparked meaningful online discussion on the prevalence of elitist mindsets in RI.

While it certainly must be noted that a vast majority of Rafflesians are actively aware of the advantaged school environment they enjoy, it is very thought-provoking to observe the subconscious biases and assumptions which some Rafflesians hold being revealed online. As a storied institution with a strong history of excellence and a campus populated by many of the top students in the nation, it comes as little surprise that the constructed reality perceived by some Rafflesians is not always congruent with the actual situation on the ground. In an environment with a staggeringly high college admission rate and where stellar GCE A-Level Examination results are produced each year, it is admittedly easy to view the rest of Singapore through lenses tinted by privilege.

Some students have taken to RJ Confessions to voice their concerns about the erosion of school spirit and a sense of belonging as the school strives to be seen not just as the nation’s best school but one of the finest educational institutions in the world. Many are of the opinion that we have lost a sense of identity and the warmth of a school community in the relentless pursuit of excellence. Representative of this is the sweeping transformation that the school itself has undergone. Out have gone the traditional, green velvet-backed notice boards, the warm red-bricked walls and student-produced videos — replaced by high-tech LCD television screens, sleek glass and steel facades, and professionally produced open house videos with a touch of class. While there is no doubt that students do benefit a great deal from such modern surroundings, the more nostalgic may feel an instinctive aversion to change, and yearn for a campus that is more familiar and homely.

There have been some concerns raised over the way RI has tried to make itself seem like an attractive destination for new students, with one confessor feeling that that ‘RJ went overboard with its self-celebratory news release about Oxford and Cambridge admissions after the A-Level results were announced’. To use a popular civil service buzzword, there will always exist a ‘trade-off’ between informing parents and alumni about our outstanding achievements, and trying to be modest about these results.

It would help for us to be actively aware of such distinctions, and dissociate such marketing messages from the school culture we collectively construct. As we strive to live up to both the co-curricular and academic standards expected of a Rafflesian, it would pay to take a step back and re-think what these standards truly are.

GENDER

There have also been debates of a more personal nature on Raffles Confessions pages – that of gender politics within the school. Confessions like ‘I can’t believe that so many Rafflesians downplay the importance of feminism in Singapore’ have generated heated debate among Rafflesians who would otherwise have never spoken out about such topics. For a majority of Rafflesians who have grown to be accustomed to a single-sex school environment, suddenly being thrust into the co-educational jungle that is the Year 5-6 campus would certainly be a disorienting experience. Although genuinely well-intentioned, this abrupt change in school demographics and culture has led to some Rafflesians making remarks which could be construed to be tactless and sexist. Nevertheless, both in their anonymous confessions and their responses to perceived sexism, most Rafflesians have adopted mature attitudes toward gender issues, and the discussions that take place on the site have been largely civil.

ELECTIONS

If we are to be completely honest, it must be said straight from the outset that student democracy in RI is not student government. In fact, if democratic government is to be our metaphor, then the Prefectorial Board and Students’ Council are rather more like civil servants than politicians. doubtlessly, they perform several integral functions, and many councillors and prefects serve the student body with dedication and humility. the problem is that in the eyes of the student body, the impact of the things they do is not equal to the vaunted method of their selection—in other words, electoral processes only work to find the best candidates when people genuinely care about whether or not those elected will do a good job, and the work councillors and prefects do is underrated because it doesn’t seem as though it will enable them to change school life in any significant or meaningful way. It is our suspicion that students would take the election process a lot more seriously if those elected would wield actual political power.

Many confessors fulminating about the reduction of the democratic exercise to a mere popularity contest were clearly thinking along the same lines. Confessions such as ‘it’s quite sad to see council elections being turned into a massive popularity contest’ and ‘the only way to win votes is through style, not substance’ reflected worries that electing school leaders was an exercise in futility.

At least on the Y1–4 side, it also seems that being a prefect is no guarantee of meritorious behaviour (perhaps this can be explained as the general mischief and immaturity of younger students as a whole). one confessor, who submitted the confession: ‘Cheating together with school prefects. YOLO’ attracted the condemnation of many. Upon a quick inspection of the confessions page, this was clearly not an isolated incident, as confessions like ‘prefects should just stop breaking the school rules’ and ‘the prefects in my class play with their handphones during lessons and sleep during class’ regularly surface on its Facebook wall.

CO-CURRICULAR ACTIVITIES

We recall one assembly when, as yet another student stepped up to the podium to announce that we had done well in some competition or the other, something unusual happened. Instead of imitating the standard format of these celebratory announcements, he tripped on ‘I am pleased to announced that we have achieved commendable results…’ and bowdlerised ‘commendable’ into ‘condemnable’. It was hilarious at the time, and still amusing now, but the memory also makes us think of the countless times we’ve heard that line delivered without mistake. Success is as integral to the Rafflesian identity as air and water are to life—in fact, the place of success at the centre of what it means to be Rafflesian is only questioned on that rare occasion when we fail to succeed.

The problem herein lies in the notion that CCAs exist insofar as they are able to bring glory to the school, as the never-ending stream of commendable successes at morning assembly may attest. Unfortunately, because the school is forced to operate within the constraints of the limited resources available, some CCAs have to be shut down or streamlined for a range of reasons. Popular belief and Rafflesian gossip (often closely aligned) holds that the controversial closing of the Gymnastics CCA was due to them not bagging any gold medals over the past few years, with the same belief also put forward for the decision to shut down Bowling.

What is seen by the Rafflesian body as the unjust closure of CCAs due to an overemphasis on achievement has sparked controversy. In every few posts in Raffles and RJ Confessions, at least one post about CCAs is bound to crop up. Confessors are up in arms over this focus on results: after all, aren’t CCAs supposed to nurture the interest of students? One confessor confesses that it’s just ‘plain demoralising when you put in the most effort you can for a CCA only for the school to close it down’. Another remarked that so long as there is interest in the CCA, there is no reason ‘to crush people’s dreams and take away their opportunity to develop their area of passion’.

However, these confessions often attribute every CCA closing to an institutional thirst for glory, a hasty generalization which has already been debunked by teachers and other members of staff. The lack of instructors willing to work within a certain wage structure or dwindling membership numbers all factor into the school’s decision to close a CCA down. After all, while it may seem incredibly laudable in theory to set up a completely new CCA even if only one student were interested in it, very practical considerations mean that underperforming or undersubscribed CCAs do have to shut down.

To find out more about the school’s take on the confessions fad, our journalists spoke to Mr Dominic Chua and Ms Chelsia Ho from the Department of Communications, Alumni Relations and Advancement (CARA) where Mr Chua is the Head of Creative Direction and Ms Ho is the Head of Communications. As it turns out, some members of the school staff actually do read the confessions page! Most interestingly, we discovered that they do review the more pressing issues discussed, adding a new dimension to the confession pages as a view into the mind of the student body.

How did you first hear about the confession pages?

Ms Ho: I heard about the confessions when I was in the States, but in Singapore, I only found out from a Straits Times article about universities setting up their confession pages. I never really thought it would catch on here.

So, why do you read RJ Confessions?

Mr Chua: As members of the Communications Department, we read because we want to understand what’s going on in the hearts and heads of our  students. If we see that there are multiple posts regarding a certain issue, we would try to direct that as feedback to a relevant department. That having been said, we would still encourage students to raise concerns about specific issues to the relevant members of staff. We know there’s comfort in anonymity, but if a particular issue is significant enough, we would want Rafflesians to deal with the issue constructively. Mrs Lim, for instance, regularly invites students to email her directly.

At present the page has over 3,000 likes; from some of the posts it appears that not all those following the page are current students, some are outsiders or even old Rafflesians. What do you think this does for the school’s reputation?

Ms Ho: At the end of the day, the majority of the posts do reflect what is actually going on in the school. It’s part and parcel of a typical school environment…

Mr Chua: I think it was during the first two weeks, when some parents, at that point, were thinking, ‘Should this be allowed?’ I think Mrs Lim reassured those parents that it’s really nothing that we should be too concerned about.

What were parents actually concerned about?

Ms Ho: ‘Isn’t it a bit young, at the age of 17 and 18, to be thinking of romance when they should be studying?’ It’s a typical reaction. It’s also an eye-opener for these parents, if they haven’t thought about this issue with regard to their own kids…

Mr Chua: You do see some differences in generational concerns there.

Occasionally, there are some more controversial confessions posted on RJ Confessions like LGBT issues, family problems, complaints about the school etc. What do you think about this?

Mr Chua: It is what it is—it’s a snapshot of school life, and it really is, perhaps, a more true-to- life, nuanced and complex picture of school and society that’s emerging from these posts. These are things that, as a
school and society, we should learn to grapple with rather than entertain a very simplistic notion of what life is.

Based on Ms Ho’s and Mr Chua’s candid responses, one sees a picture far different from that often painted by many a complaining confessor—far from being overly restrictive and against the confessions pages, one instead sees members of staff who are more receptive towards and in fact encouraging of student voices. While the cynics among us may be sceptical, perhaps this is a sign of changing times as the school increasingly adapts to social media. As Mr Chua puts it, if confessions are actually ‘given due consideration and weight’ the confessions pages will provide a useful and effective platform for vocal students with much to say about the way our school is run, but no formal avenue to do so.

 IN CONCLUSION

It must be acknowledged that neither absolution nor requital is the defining goal of the confessions page; rather, we are witnessing the positive effects of anonymity in encouraging honesty. We see this as a near-absolute good: it allows everyone, including the school, to get a better handle on the true sentiments of Rafflesians. Even where questionable opinions or behaviour are put on display, we can trust in the wisdom of the Rafflesian crowd to tear down the bigoted, praise the deserving, and lift up the depressed and down-trodden.

A confession of errors is like a
broom which sweeps away the dirt
and leaves the surface brighter and
clearer. I feel stronger for confession.

– Gandhi

Published online at http://rafflesiantimes.wordpress.com/

Mr Alex Ang (Assistant Department Head, Admissions) and Ms Ng Xinyi (Former teacher who taught in RI from Jun 2009 to Dec 2011)

How did you meet each other?

We were both teaching the same class then, 10S06T, but we were merely acquaintances. We were officially introduced to each other by a couple of our teacher colleagues in RI, when they organised badminton sessions for a group of colleagues and invited us.

Do you believe in destiny? How does your belief relate to your relationship?

Alex: Yes, I believe in that. The past relationships were all lessons to be learnt. No one is perfect but I am improving and will continue to work hard to be Xinyi’s best companion and soulmate.

Xinyi: If I had met Alex during my younger/uni days, I would probably not fall in love with him! So I really do believe in meeting the right person at the right time and that everything will just fall into place nicely, without having to work too hard to get things right 

Who has given you the best relationship advice and what was it?

We guess we knew at the back of our minds that communication is important for a lasting relationship. However, it was during a marriage preparation course which we recently attended that really emphasised to us that communication is the key to sustaining a relationship. We are really glad that every moment we spent together is one filled with joy and laughter. It was when we realized that we could speak our minds freely and share with each other simply anything under the sun that we started our relationship 

If you had to pick a song that summed up your relationship, what would it be?

The song has to be ‘Lucky’ by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat. We are both lucky that we are in love with our best friends! Every little thing that we do as a couple—from a simple meal at the kopitiam, to nonsensical chats we have, to catching a movie, and walking home from the car park, has always been so enjoyable, as long as we have each other’s company.

Ms Imelda Chang (Assistant Department Head, Student Leadership) and Mr Bernard Low (Head, Character & Citizenship Education, Year 1-4)

How did you meet each other?

We met in Catholic Junior College. We were in JC 1 and happened to be in Badminton CCA and the Students’ Council together. It was our first time in a relationship and we weren’t sure if it would last, so we said, ‘Let’s see how it goes for…ten years?’ It was a purely random number at that time! As it turned out, we dated for a decade, and celebrated our tenth anniversary by tying the knot.

Do you believe in destiny? How does your belief relate to your relationship?

It’s nice to believe that destiny brought us together because we discovered that we clicked very well. But successful relationships require real effort, open communication, trust and give-and-take from both parties to work. It was the same for us.

In your relationship, who’s more romantic and who’s more practical?

During the first few years of our relationship, we both did romantic things like gifting hand-crafted presents or planning special birthday surprises for each other. We’re both rather practical and it didn’t take long for our practical sides to surface.

If you had to pick a song that summed up your relationship, what would it be?

That song would be ‘More Than Words’ by Extreme.

Mr Carlsen Tay (Teacher, Physical Education, Year 5-6) and Ms Janice Sharon Chen (RGS, 1995; RJC, 1997)

How did you meet each other?

Carlsen: We were in the same orientation group in RJC in 1996. Our OG had regular outings throughout the year. In J2, a group of us stayed in school till night time to study for our A-Levels. During our study breaks, we played basketball or had meals at Ghim Moh hawker centre. We became good friends over those two years and spent hours talking on the phone. I only asked her to be my girlfriend after we graduated from RJC, just before I enlisted into the army. (I was afraid to lose her since our paths were diverging.)

What was the first thing you noticed about each other?

Carlsen: Well, the first thing I noticed was that she was a RGS prefect with her different uniform! More than that, she was a cute, bubbly little girl who would go all red when something funny happened. She was also an obvious leader amongst her peers as her RGS mates all voted her to be our orientation group leader. But I guess, the first impression that she left on me was that she cherished friendships, which was apparent in how she organised outings and made gifts for her friends. (She, on behalf of the girls, made a personalized Valentine’s Day gift for all the guys using a corkboard and our OG photo)

Janice: I thought his name was ‘Gao Sheng’ when we were introducing ourselves, but his name caught my eye when I compiled the name list because it was actually ‘Carlsen’! That left a lasting impression. The male OG leader was not helping me to organise anything so I was very thankful that Carlsen was so willing to help contact the guys. His helpfulness struck me despite not having the need or responsibility to do so.

Do you believe in destiny? How does your belief relate to your relationship?

We believe God has brought us together. Our common belief in Christ is our foundation and anchor for our relationship. Because of God’s love for us, we learn what it means to love each other, being faithful in spite of our faults, weaknesses and ugliness. Knowing that our God has shown us undeserved grace in forgiving us helps us to forgive when we have hurt the other. Even though we are different, we learn to complement each other to work towards our common goals and perspectives for family life, parenting, finances, and relationships with others.

What is the most romantic thing you have ever done as a couple?

Carlsen: I guess it would be the wedding proposal. In 2004, I organized a gathering for our close RJ mates back at the old Mount Sinai campus after RJC had moved to Bishan. The ‘reason’ was to reminisce over our good old days. So, I planned a treasure hunt game where they had to go around in groups to find certain locations using the riddles provided and to find a clue that was hidden there. Of course, I briefed all our friends about the PLAN and they all willingly played along. Only Janice was unaware (though she already guessed the PLAN by the second checkpoint!). After they cleared all the checkpoints, the teams gathered back at the canteen where Janice had to unravel all the clues which spelt out: ‘Dear Janice, would you grow old together with me?’ So, yup, that was probably the most romantic thing we did and it felt all the more wonderful because we had our close friends there with us.

Ms Lee Phui Juin (Assistant Department Head, Community Involvement Programme, Year 1-4) and Mr Yeo Puay Hong (Teacher, Aesthetics, Year 1-4)

How did you meet each other?

We met during the national examinations briefing at the MOE auditorium. Our respective schools assigned us as the Chief Presiding Examiner and the Presiding Examiner in that year.

What was the first thing you noticed about each other?

Puay Hong: Her seemingly snobbish attitude caught my attention!

Phui Jiun: He wrote beautifully in cursive.

Who has given you the best relationship advice and what was it?

Our sisters gave us the best relationship advice—‘Commit to quality time together on a regular basis’.

If you had to pick a song that summed up your relationship, what would it be?

‘Then’ by Brad Paisley.

Published online at Rafflesian Times

By Michelle Zhu (15A01B), Nicholas Baey (15S03F) and Teo Yao Neng (3G)

In 2014, two of our alumni, Major-General (MG) Perry Lim (RI, 1988; RJC 1990) and Rear-Admiral (RADM) Lai Chung Han (RI, 1989; RJC 1991) were appointed as Chief of Army and Chief of Navy respectively. In this interview, they share their candid thoughts about Singapore and the armed forces, as well as the life lessons they gleaned from their time in RI.

Left: Chief of Army, MG Perry Lim Right: Chief of Navy, RADM Lai Chung Han

WHAT’S ON THEIR RADAR?

PL: We’re concerned about terrorism at the global level. Even though the operations by the Islamic state in Syria and Iraq may seem half a world away, the threat that we face could involve self-radicalised individuals from Singapore, as well as from the region who go over to fight for what they perceive to be a religious war. When they return to the region, they will be trying to further their agenda here.

Singapore stands on the side of the international community to combat this terrorism and because of that, we may be a target of terrorists. That is why on a day to day basis you have the Army and Navy conduct operations during peacetime. We defend installations, places like Changi Airport, Sembawang Wharf, Jurong Island, to make Singapore a difficult target for terrorists.

LCH: Terrorism is a very real threat because the world is getting “smaller” and more inter-connected. Singapore is a maritime nation and we need to watch our maritime borders very carefully. Regionally, South China Sea (SCS) disputes, as well as tensions in the East China Sea, are on our radar. These tensions affect the freedom of flight and navigation in the region. As for Singapore’s role, we are small and we have no claims in the SCS, which puts us in a good position to be an interlocutor. We’re also non-threatening, which makes us ideal to facilitate the discussion on maintaining regional peace and stability.

PL: While we are maintaining our capabilities to deter conventional threats and to defend the country, over time the SAF has re-organised our forces to be more flexible, and to respond to a range of scenarios. Our army is capable of a spectrum of operations, including counter-terrorism and other sorts of peacekeeping operation. These peacetime operations include responding to natural disasters, like the Boxing Day Tsunami and earthquakes around the region, in terms of providing humanitarian aid and disaster relief.

MG Perry Lim visiting a Unit

THE CHALLENGES FROM WITHIN

PL: I think that the fundamental problem now and going ahead for the next 5 to 10 years is our population size. Our cohort is getting smaller, in the sense that the people who are enlisting for national service gets fewer. As a national service army, we will eventually have to manage an armed force that will be smaller in terms of numbers. So the challenge for us is to continue to strengthen the army and achieve our missions, becoming just as capable and ready even though we have fewer soldiers. To do this, we would have to rely on military technology in terms of hardware, networks and better trained soldiers. So demographics provides a long term challenge to the army.

LCH: Well, the navy is slightly different. The army is largely a conscript force, but the Navy is largely a regular force. There are still similar issues though, since as the cohort shrinks, there are competing demands and it becomes more challenging to recruit regulars. We’ve been looking at how to recruit more women and mid-careerists as regulars.

PL: Our soldiers today are more educated. One of the advantages of this, is that they pick up soldiering skills much faster and are more adept at operating our 3rd generation capabilities. However, they also have higher expectations and bigger aspirations. We have to adjust our approach in the way we train and teach them to acquire skills, as well as how to engage them so that they find meaning and purpose in National Service. So the main issues are related to demography: how do we continue to be effective and capable with a smaller army? How do we motivate and inspire a more educated army?

LCH: For the Navy, the issue is one of retaining talent. There’s an increasing trend of people wanting to try different things, people not staying in the same job like they used to. It used to be that you had one profession and you would stick with it for decades and that would just be your career, but now there are changing preferences. We’re addressing this in two ways – how to bring in people from other professions, and how to encourage people to stay on.

We need to help our people feel that their job is meaningful and worth doing for the long haul. We also offer a very strong programme for professional development and there is a range of scholarships available. In terms of career value proposition, we started a military domain expert scheme (or MDES) a number of years ago, where our servicemen are offered a full career until they are 60, to go deep in a specialised area. On the other hand, our naval officers on the combat scheme retire young at 50, and so to get people to stay we need to ensure they have clarity of purpose – why they are doing what they are doing. The sense of personal conviction is very important.

The idea of the Navy family is also important, with the sense of belonging and solidarity that it provides.

PL: The Army has transformed its training system, such that it is in line with the experience that our students go through in school. In the same way that students use laptops and tablet computers to learn – there’s a lot more self–directed learning currently in place. Because of the emphasis on group learning and projects in our schools, we are able to restructure our ground forces such that they can operate in smaller groups – they are able to handle technology, communication systems, such that we are able to effect new ways of fighting and operating at the soldier level.

We are conscious that we have to give our soldiers a positive experience. Over the 2 years we must make them feel that their time is well-spent, and that we are not wasting their time. We try to give them moments that they will remember for life – our term for this is defining moments and positive experiences.

That said, it’s not that training has become easier. Every generation would think that their training is tougher than the new generation. When I was undergoing training 20 years ago, my seniors would say that we were having it easy, during my time blah blah. Then, when it was my time to be a senior, I would tell the soldiers at BMT or OCS, ‘Hey my training was tougher than yours!’ The fact of that matter is that the way we are training our soldiers has changed. It is a different generation and the soldier’s learning experience is very different from now as compared to 20 years ago, and they respond to different means of instructions. We take greater care to ensure safety in training, and we don’t just tell them to do things – we explain the reasons behind what they are doing so that they can be committed to learning the tasks. Out in the field, we give them missions and tasks to do, which are no less tough than before.
And in spite of the tough training, at the end of it we hope they can find meaning from the process, understand it is for a good reason and with the rest of their team they are able to have a positive experience. We actively design our training to facilitate that.

FEMALE CONSCRIPTION AND THE VOLUNTEER SCHEME

PL: In the case of the boys, it is a universal system of conscription. This means that it is not selective conscription – we enlist all the boys in the cohort. It isn’t the case that we enlist some and not the others. But we are not at the stage where we need to double the number. So what we are trying to do really is to do more or to do just as well with fewer soldiers.

Obviously it is not the decision for us or the armed forces to decide, but it a decision by the government. And it needs to take into account the public’s support. The only reason why we are able to conscript our young men for 2 years of NS, and 10+ years as operationally ready national servicemen, is because the public continues to support national service and believe that NS is vital for the defence of the country. People generally accept that it is a fair and equitable system. And on our part, we are, in a sense, in a fairly good position in that we continue to have firm support from the public.

LCH: With regards to the SAF Volunteer Corps (SAFVC), the volunteers will come in at specific windows, and some of the jobs are quite specialised – so people can use their specialised skills from their civilian work to contribute to defence. Through the SAFVC, we also hope that the volunteers from all segments of Singapore society will gain a better understanding of what it takes to defend Singapore and in turn better appreciate the contributions of NSmen.

PL: The objective is to allow those not liable for national service like PRs and Singaporean ladies to contribute to defence. There are quite a number of vocations they can choose from, such as a security trooper or medical trainer or legal advisor. First we have to put you in uniform and get you familiarised with how to be in a military organisation. The initial programme lasts from 2-3 weeks.

Even though the corps is small, they are able to provide a valid contribution. The reason being, if I can fight with 10 people why would I fight with 9? Obviously it would not replace national service and we are also quite careful to make it clear that our volunteers will not be trained to the same level as some of our servicemen, considering the fact that the servicemen have a longer term of service and undergo more rigorous and specialised training.

The other objective is to allow people who are not acquainted with the military to know more about our armed forces and national services, so as to better appreciate for what the guys do, and foster greater support for NS. This helps sustain our national service system in the long run.

IMMIGRATION AND NATIONAL IDENTITY

PL: Well there is this view that goes something like this: ‘With the large number of foreigners, I don’t feel that Singapore is ours anymore, therefore why should we defend it?’ I don’t understand or accept this view. Just because there are foreigners in Singapore or people joining us as PRs or new citizens, it shouldn’t take anything away from defending the country. It is a Singaporean’s duty to defend their own country. In times of conflict, foreigners will leave to countries which are safe, but we as Singaporeans must stay and fight. If no one defends the country, who will?

LCH: The immigration issue is not in any way unique to Singapore and many developed countries have similar challenges. We’re still a young nation – 50 years is a short time when you set it against the history of other countries – and our grandparents were themselves migrants who settled in Singapore several decades ago. There is a bright future for Singapore to be forged together with all who are prepared to be involved and who want to contribute positively. Ultimately, we ourselves need to get involved, because a national identity and national pride are best forged when you are involved.

THEIR PRIORITIES

PL: The mission of the army is to be Ready, Decisive, and Respected. The Ready part involves being ready for special operations, and Decisive in the sense that – should there be a war, we can achieve a quick and decisive victory. That part is something we have achieved and continue to achieve, with a steady investment in defence, acquiring and operationalising military technology with the soldiers that we have. It is the third part where we have to continue to strengthen the army as a Respected organisation in the eyes of the public. In terms of the soldiers and their self esteem, if they are not afraid and shy to wear their uniform in public, then we’ll know that we’ve succeeded, when they respect themselves as soldiers. We also strive to be respected by the other armed forces in the world, to the point where they seek to train with us so they can learn from us.

LCH: Having taken over as CNV only in August 2014, I am quite clear that organisational priorities don’t have to be changed just because there is a change in leadership. Continuity is important for us, and I’m very grateful for all the work my predecessors have done. Truly, we stand on the shoulders of giants.

My predecessor RADM Ng Chee Peng (RI 1986, RJC 1988) coined the term TEAM Navy, which I am very happy to continue advocating. TEAM is an acronym: Transforming into the 3rd Generation RSN, Engaging our people and stakeholders, Advancing integration with the other two Services (Army and Airforce) as well as whole-of-government, and achieving Mission success. So TEAM Navy describes what we do as well as how we work as a team. Equally important is the idea of Navy FAMILY which describes who we are and the close-knit community that we are. When you put TEAM Navy and Navy FAMILY together, we have a very strong sense of purpose and community. My constant refrain when I visit the different units in the Navy is that we have to believe in our mission, be proud of the role we each play, and to strive to great at what we do.

RADM Lai Chung Han (extreme left)

RI AND THE CHARGE OF ELITISM

LCH: Let me first point out that competition can be a good thing. The question is – are we assessing our students holistically? And this reflects trends and developments in the wider society. For Singapore to have developed so quickly, some trade-offs have been made. So it’s not really a question just for RI or for our schools, but for our society as a whole.

On RI’s part, as long as the school is still giving opportunities to students from diverse backgrounds to join RI and to succeed, I don’t see intense competition as a problem. At the same time, it is about seeing our students through multiple lenses – not just academic achievements, but also leadership, character and values.

PL: You can’t really expect RI to be the same as it was 30 years ago. This is because our society has changed. People generally have become a lot more affluent, so there are fewer cases of RI students coming from very humble family backgrounds.

But I think that RI must continue to be the beacon of meritocracy, such that every able Singaporean after PSLE, should feel comfortable and not out of place in RI and RGS. It shouldn’t be the case where there is social exclusion or intimidation when entering RI. As long as you qualify on your own merits, you shouldn’t feel out of place. So we need to create that environment, and we need that culture.

You can’t really point a finger and blame the school for the change in the student profile, because that is really a reflection of society and its nature. But we must continue to maintain RI and RGS as a place whereby students will come of their own merit and feel at ease in the environment. It is about educating our students to be more inclusive and to not judge other people by their background. I hope it’s still the case.

MEMORIES OF RI

RADM Lai Chung Han in the 1991 Yearbook of RJC

LCH: Some of my teachers made a very strong impression on me. Mr Mag was my Prefect Master who taught us that some things could be done differently, rather than just observing tradition for its own sake. I also particularly remember Ms Miiko Tan who was my form teacher in Sec 1 and 2. She taught us to see the good in others, to laugh at ourselves and to understand that life is far bigger than our own lives.

RI definitely taught me to be independent. It gave me the autonomy to do things and make decisions. It gave me leadership opportunities and instilled in me a sense of service to others and the community. The Rafflesian Spirit is about rising above oneself and serving a larger cause – we all have to work at serving a larger cause, because life is bigger than you. This ethos of service is certainly something that’s very relevant beyond RI – in the Navy, it is about believing in the larger mission of safeguarding our waters and defending our nation.

MG Perry Lim’s photo from the April 1991 issue of Rafflesian Outlook, an RJC publication.

PL: You would probably all agree with me that it is a rather competitive environment in RI. It is now and it was 30 years ago. Now when you are in RI, with a bunch of highly driven people who all strive for excellence, they really apply their minds to the subjects which they have to learn and the things that they do. So in a sense, because of this environment, you are also driven to excel, take initiative of your own leadership. These traits are what stayed with me even when I left RI. Well, I played sports in school. I was in both the rugby and swim team. You learn how to develop discipline and juggle your time. Of course, in those days you don’t win all the time. So I learnt to be gracious in both winning and losing. I also learnt about sportsmanship, fighting spirit, teamwork. These are the big lessons which I have learnt from my time in RI.

PARTING THOUGHTS

PL: Well, I think you should make the most of the opportunity you have to learn as much as possible. Not just learn to do well in exams, but to read more widely and to make good friends, I would say. Because I would find that a lot of my friends who are not my colleagues who I am close to and keep in touch with are my primary school friends. School is not just a place to excel but also a place to build closer friendships. Not just to stay within your close group of people, but to make friends with everyone in your cohort and across cohorts. Because when you go up to the workplace – sure, the networks are important, but it’s your friendships which give you a more fulfilling life.

LCH: Well, just know that you’re in a very good school. Be grateful for this, enjoy the experience, and give back to the school and the society. And also don’t forget to have a good time! I did!

PL: We shouldn’t have the assumption that when you reach a certain standard you have learnt everything and there is nothing else to learn about. You need to be humble and believe that there are people who know a lot more than you and learn, and to apply yourself to every job you do. I have tried to improve to become a good listener. When you’re younger, you ironically think you know everything. And so when I was in my junior leadership positions, I made my own decisions and told people what to do and got things done quickly. But as I moved up the organisation, I learnt that you don’t have all the answers and that it’s good to get various perspectives before arriving at any conclusion.

It is also important to achieve buy-in, because if people are not convinced, usually there won’t be a lasting outcome. And when people do the things you ask them to do, but once you are no longer there, you would not have a lasting outcome. To remain accessible to people, you shouldn’t create a culture where people are afraid to give bad news, or people only tell you things you want to hear. If people are afraid to come to you to just ask about your plans and to clarify, because they are afraid that they may appear to not seem to be too smart, then you know that the culture is in need of positive change.

by Ching Ann Hui (15S03A), Michelle Zhu (15A01B), Daphne Tang (16S03M) and Ian Cheng (16S03M)

This article is a preview from the upcoming Issue #5 of the Rafflesian Times, slated for release this week.

Indranee Rajah, Senior Minister of State for Law and Education.

Having juggled a successful law career at Drew & Napier along with her duties as Member of Parliament (MP) for Tanjong Pagar GRC and the Deputy Speaker of Parliament, Ms Indranee Rajah (RI, 1981) is perhaps one of the most eminent of the Rafflesian alumni involved in the governance of Singapore today.

Now Senior Minister of State for Law and Education, her career has been nothing short of illustrious, making partner at Drew & Napier within five years and Senior Counsel by 2003. In 2001, she joined politics and was elected as a member of Tanjong Pagar GRC, eventually switching over to full time politics in 2012 at Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong’s request.

A debater while she was in RI Pre-U, she fondly remembers her time in the school and credits debating as being ‘great training for a career in law and politics’. In addition, she also hailed from the school netball team, which helped her stay physically fit, and may explain how she still manages to fit gym trainings into her already overscheduled days. Ms Indranee shares with the Rafflesian Times some of her insights on the political scene in Singapore and key challenges faced with the changing political and social climate here as we celebrate our nation’s golden jubilee.

LOOKING TO THE FUTURE
When asked about the key challenges facing Singapore in the next 50 years, she identifies three areas – the demographic challenge of an ageing population, social cohesion in view of the increasing diversity in our society, and maintaining economic growth for everyone in the face of global competition.

Social cohesion has been a perennial issue for Singaporeans, but one that has been amplified recently because of globalisation. With the myriad of people from different backgrounds and cultures that call Singapore home today, the government has in recent years solicited views from Singaporeans about their ideal Singapore through Our Singapore Conversation (OSC) and various more informal online platforms. For Ms Indranee, ‘OSC saw Singaporeans from all walks of life share their aspirations and visions for the future – there were many common aspirations, but many also heard contrasting views of fellow Singaporeans for the first time.’

She shares that the traditional community conversations have been overtaken by the pace of life and social media technologies, meaning that many Singaporeans were not aware of the differing views of fellow Singaporeans. She adds, ‘It is through engaging our people that we learn more about their concerns and needs, which in turn helps us to refine and formulate policy that is citizen-centric and genuinely benefits our people and our nation.’ Despite how the government increasingly and actively tries to understand the concerns on the ground, Ms Indranee is careful to point out that ‘any national policy must also be made with national interests in mind’, and that ‘this must be balanced with considerations that Singaporeans might not be aware of – for instance, security issues where decisions may have to be made based on sensitive information which cannot be made public.’

This pragmatic approach to policymaking in Singapore has not changed over the years, but the numerous challenges that the government faces have evolved and in some ways multiplied. The vocal and often vociferous online criticisms of Singapore’s stance towards foreigners may not be entirely justified, but it does reveal a grain of truth – shifting social demographics have made it much more challenging to cater to everyone’s needs in Singapore.

RI AS A BEACON OF HOPE?
At first glance, the three key challenges that Ms Indranee outlines seem disparate. In reality, it becomes ever more difficult than ever to strike a balance between growth, demographics, and maintaining social cohesion in Singapore.

‘The question is how do we – year after year – continue to ensure that we can have good jobs for Singaporeans and that there is economic growth, so that everyone can benefit?’ says Ms Indranee. Her mention of everyone benefitting points to the complexity of Singapore’s situation. With a Gini coefficient of 0.464 in 2014 (before accounting for Government transfers and taxes, 0.412 after), the gap between the haves and the have-nots continues to widen amidst rising local affluence.

PM Lee’s comment on the ‘natural aristocracy’ ¹ in Singapore angered many, but what is more dangerous to our social cohesion is the possibility of an artificial aristocracy – one that does not promote people on merit but simply by default of their privileged positions.

More recently, the fracas that Minister for Social and Family Development, Mr Tan Chuan-Jin’s Facebook post about karung gunis caused recently is testament to an unease about rising inequality in our society. While we laud Mr Tan’s attempt to speak to people on the ground, the fact remains, unfortunately, that inequality is higher than ever in Singapore, with growing numbers of a small elite entrenched from the previous successes of our meritocratic system.

Last year, Nominated Member of Parliament Eugene Tan described RI as ‘less of a beacon of hope for meritocratic Singapore’. This comment stems from the admittedly true observation that RI does not reflect the social and economic composition of Singapore as it did in his student days.

Yet Ms Indranee points out that ‘each successive generation of Singaporeans has become more affluent… and consequently it must therefore mean that there are fewer students from less privileged backgrounds in absolute numbers compared to the past’. While this is arguably true, it has to contend with the general social perception that top schools are increasingly closed to those from lower socio-economic classes.

While Ms Indranee agreed that ‘schools such as RI that educate some of our best and brightest in society have a special place in our education system’, she emphasies that this makes it even more important that these schools ‘resolutely guard against elitism’. She elucidates further that ‘RI must be careful to ensure that the way the school is run and the way RI students conduct themselves does not make it become closed to high-calibre students from less privileged backgrounds.’, and that ‘it must continue to be a shining beacon of hope for Singapore’s meritocratic ideals, reflecting progress with equity and inclusiveness.’ Nevertheless, RI alone can only do so much.

Ironically, while education is often seen as the great leveller, Singapore’s tuition industry is worth more than S$1 billion a year. Tuition providers often tout success stories of their clients entering brand schools, attempting to attract students from the tender age of 10 or earlier. It is difficult to continue to believe that ‘the hallmark of our education system is in providing equal opportunities for all’, if one sees an improvement in another’s examination results upon the inception of a tuition programme. This has turned tuition classes into a zero-sum game, where those privileged enough to enrol into tuition will always be seen as gaining an academic edge in school.

To this end, the government has put into place a ‘comprehensive suite’ of programmes such as supplementary and remedial lessons in school, in addition to the Collaborative Tuition Programme offered by CDAC, MENDAKI, and SINDA – but the gap remains. It does seem as though a meritocratic education system can only do so much to alleviate the inequality separating the entrenched elite from the person on the street.

Perhaps then, SkillsFuture, which came about from ASPIRE (Applied Study in Polytechnics and ITE Review), can close the gaps, and play a part in changing Singaporeans’ mindset about success. And this, Ms Indranee feels, is crucial – how we see success needs to be changed, and the best way to do this, is through education – not just by the typical focus on academic success but instead by ensuring that students get real depth and acquire mastery of skills, along with portable skills like communication, leadership and resilience, so as to prime them for the future.

ON POLITICS IN SINGAPORE
Ms Indranee seems particularly attuned to the intricacies and potential impact of policies. For her, policies affect a wide range of people and span many concerns, timeframes and levels of governance. People’s ‘diverse needs and wants’ constantly have to be reviewed in relation to each other. It is not a straightforward process, as Ms Indranee shares:

‘Take housing for example. Home buyers would want property prices to be low, so they can afford [homes] without too much financial strain. On the other hand, if you already own a property, you want the prices to be high as this is your asset, and you want a high price if you sell it. So if you implement policies that send housing prices down, you could devalue the homeowners’ assets overnight. If you have policies that send prices up, the homeowners will be happy, but young couples or new home buyers will be very unhappy… The challenge is how to get the balance right on a whole range of issues at constituency and ministry level.’

In her understanding of things, politics and policy-making in Singapore are all about balance. In a constituency, there is a whole range of people with diverse needs and wants – let alone across the country. As the leadership in Singapore changes, she points to the importance of the next generation of leaders upholding the hallmarks of our political leadership – leaders who are ‘honest, trustworthy, capable, care for Singaporeans and can address immediate issues and yet think and plan long term’.

In recent years, as the feminist movement in Singapore gains traction, many have pointed to the relative dearth of women in high political positions. As one of the small number of women who have achieved in political office, we ask Ms Indranee about whether women must sacrifice more to be successful in politics. She admits that ‘For the married women, especially those with children, there is the additional challenge of balancing family time and constituency work.’ She says there is definitely a place for women in Singapore politics.

THE ROAD AHEAD
Meritocracy, pragmatism and a good dose of honesty form the foundation of Singapore’s political system, and the validity of this system in turn hinges upon the soundness of Singapore’s education system; whether it can ensure that students some of whom may go on to be the nation’s leaders—will be gifted with sound moral values. Although the principles that have formed the bedrock of Singapore society have not changed significantly over the past 50 years, Ms Indranee pointed out that the challenges borne by Singapore’s political system are fast evolving. It is critical, then, that the government makes corresponding adjustments to achieve the balance that it seeks.

Natural Aristocracy:
¹ Term used by Thomas Jefferson in his letter to John Adams on Governance – ‘I agree with you that there is a natural aristocracy among men. The grounds of this are virtue and talent. There is also an artificial aristocracy founded on wealth and birth, without either virtue or talents… The natural aristocracy I consider as the most precious gift of nature for the instruction, the trusts, and government of society.’ (University of Chicago)

by Valerie Chee (15S07B), Michelle Zhu (15A01B), Chew Cheng Yu (16S06L), Sean Lim (16A13A), Kristal Ng (16S07C) and Monica Lee (16S06J)

This article is a preview from the upcoming Issue #5 of the Rafflesian Times, slated for release this week.

The signs of celebration are everywhere this year – from the SG50 Celebration Fund, to the familiar SG50 posters adorning our buildings and buses. For some, however, Singapore’s jubilee year celebrations may raise more perplexing questions rather than exude the pride and confidence a nation needs to bolster its national identity.

‘One of the reasons Singaporeans continue to be anxious after 50 years of existence is because our national identity is a utilitarian one based on functionalism. Nothing is sacred to us. The most important question we ask is – does it work?’ This was one of the insights that Dr Terence Chong shared with us when questioned on the important implications of globalization on Singapore’s national identity.

The question he raises is a salient one. National identity is not sufficiently entrenched in Singapore’s society for us to celebrate it with complete self-assuredness and without question. At a time when more people are becoming Singaporean rather than being born Singaporean, the matter of how to define our rather nebulous identity has become more pressing than ever. And for the increasing minority of foreigners who are either new to or familiar with our country, how exactly do they establish this sense of ‘Singaporean-ness’?

Why Singapore?
Looking back, one thing we can be certain of is our unwavering adherence to the pragmatic and meritocratic ideals that have governed our society for the past 50 years and are integral to our identity. Dr Terence Chong cites how ‘the Singaporean identity was born out of the trauma of Separation and national survival’ and ‘has been designed to embrace the very trends we find so disorienting. Meritocracy, competition, excellence and exceptionalism are integral to our national identity.’

The implementation of these pragmatic ideals has seen renowned success in our country, even becoming a source of pride for most Singaporeans. It therefore comes as no surprise that the increasingly foreign makeup of our society has grounds in this pragmatism that has been so central to Singapore, beginning with the motives of the immigrants themselves.

Natasha Lim (15S07D) recently immigrated to Singapore, drawn by the ethnically unbiased meritocratic system entrenched in Singaporean norms. Originally born in Malaysia, she pointed out that ‘in university admissions, even if Malays have lower scores than their Chinese peers who may get straight As, they would be accepted more readily… I feel that the environment is more friendly in Singapore, and I’m more protected here.’

Reis Low (15S07B) cites the ease of travelling and applying for visas that accompanies Singaporean citizenship as one of her family’s primary motivations for immigration, perhaps one of the pragmatic concerns that Singaporeans often take for granted. ‘Apart from my hopes for going to overseas universities which equates to applying for visas, my mother travels a lot for her work and it would be much easier with Singaporean citizenship to do so,’ she explains.

The pragmatism that surrounds this decision to emigrate is not confined to the part of the immigrant alone; it is also pertinent to those tasked with granting citizenship on a selective basis. Yuki Pan (15S06D) speculates that ‘Citizenship is given out on a purely practical basis. I would think that the ability to contribute economically would be the biggest factor, followed by the usual things such as criminal records, etc.’

What makes us Singaporean?
In daily life, we come into contact with a plethora of cultural symbols and institutions that promote a fundamental sense of belonging. A naturally-derived sense of belonging plays an indispensable role in forging the emotional bonds between individual and homeland, and this role cannot simply be replaced by the official, government-controlled ideals of what being Singaporean should mean.

For instance, food has become more than a means of sustenance for many locals, becoming almost a national obsession. Similarly, social norms like speaking Singlish have been established in Singaporean culture as trademarks of our identity. Speak Singlish to any seasoned Singaporean and you will be understood. Singlish, as Ms. Yu-mei Balasingamchow (RGS,1990; RJC 1992) puts it, ‘comes naturally to your tongue when you talk to your own people […] whether you’re in Singapore or abroad’.

Despite the government’s attempts at rooting it out, through the Speak Good English Movement and more, the incessant and pervasive use of Singlish has continued to endure. Ms Balasingamchow embodies this phenomenon well, telling us how she eventually found how to be ‘comfortably Singaporean in ways that may or may not gel with what official narrative says.’

‘You can say it’s important to speak good English and also love Singlish,’ she says. ‘They do not have to be diametrically opposed as government language tends to be. Because, obviously I’m always a stickler for grammar, that’s what I do for a living right, but don’t take my Singlish away from me lah.’

However, the extent to which such trademarks can represent the real depths of Singaporean identity is questionable. Ms Balasingamchow points out that much of the local hype and discussion about food can be rather shallow in nature. The Singaporean obsession with food ‘focuses on consumption rather than creation’ and can be mindlessly simplistic – she brings up the example of how there are different trypes of curries in Singapore, because of migrants who came from different parts of India, but we speak as though there is only one definitive type, fish head curry. ‘It is fine to be proud of our food, but I hope it doesn’t make you Singaporean to be harping on about how great our food is.’

Additionally, as much as language unifies, it can simultaneously lead to a sense of estrangement. For Blazer Challander (15S06G), who lived in the USA for 3 years before returning to Singapore, language plays a huge part in his integration. Despite being Singaporean, he feels different from his peers because of his American accent and admits to ‘trying to fit in sometimes by not sounding so American’.

Clearly, the endearing icons of Singapore culture are simply not enough to create the sort of deep-rooted sense of identity we see in countries with long-established traditions and norms that assimilates immigrants and preserves their shared heritage.

History and Culture
For many countries, what ties their people together is their shared history and culture. To our interviewee who was originally from China, Singapore has not ‘formed such a distinct sense of identity yet, as compared to the sense of identity in China’. The Chinese build their identity on their millennia-long and illustrious history; the Americans on their independence struggle and the ideals of the American Dream.

Some Singaporeans however, seem to be able to freely relinquish their national identities, as the people behind Neurotic Ramblings of a Singaporean Couple (NRSC) have. Shawn Ang (RJC, 2003) from NRSC testifies that ‘We can’t renounce citizenship yet, but for all intents and purposes we don’t identify as Singaporean.’ The ease with which many like him can give up their Singaporean identities is a disturbing trend, one which can be attributed to Singapore’s relative lack of a strong sense of history and culture, which is what binds people to their home countries.

Singapore does not seem to have that. After all, our official history dates back only 50 years, or to the colonial period. Unlike our neighbours Indonesia and Vietnam, we do not have an armed conflict in our struggle for independence to pull us together, and our people come from many places around the world, with no homogenous religion or culture. Ms Claire Leow points out that ‘to be Singaporean is to acknowledge our immigrant roots’. But such a patchwork identity is harder to grasp than say that of a Japanese or a Thai identity, where nationality is clearly tied to a single ethnicity; or even if we looked to American identity, that is dazzlingly multicultural, it has had a longer time-frame to gestate and cohere. Singaporeans often struggle to find an identity that we can reconcile, given our relatively short history.

Natasha puts it well when she notes now ‘that sense of nationalism is not active amongst Singaporeans, so I don’t really feel an active instinct to express my pride on a daily basis’. Of course, national identity is not solely a matter of flamboyantly proclaiming one’s love for one’s country, but that many of us feel the same way is telling of our difficulties, as a country, in finding our identity through pride for our history and culture.

For all our talk of equality and multiculturalism, we have not yet had time to find a comfortable balance. In Akash Lodh’s (RI, 2014) words, ‘It remains hard for the common man’s voice to be heard, or the rights of minorities to be protected, in favour of attaining a peaceful majority whose views should apparently be deeply respected at all costs.’

Yes, our multi-ethnic social fabric is something to be proud of, but it can also hinder our attempts to define an identity based on shared history and culture, especially given the wave of immigration Singapore has had in the past decade. Amidst the resultant insecurity surrounding the basis of our national identity, the government’s attempts to construct the official narrative of this identity has become seemingly necessary.

Gaining Citizenship
There are significant problems associated with trying to construct a national identity through the top-down approach we currently employ to target immigrants, which weakly attempts to cater to a wide demographic with the same facile methods. Most prominently, the government only recently implemented the Singapore Citizenship Journey (SCJ) for new citizens, the effectiveness and even necessity of which has been called into question.

The process works around community sharing sessions, heritage site visits, and an ‘e-Journey’ portal. This seems a little far-off from the immersive, thorough programme that the title suggests, and individuals who have applied or are applying for citizenship will be well aware of some of the seemingly extraneous components involved in this process. ‘I felt that it was not very useful, because they’re telling us things that we know already,’ Natasha commented. ‘At one programme there was a guy sitting next to me who has been in Singapore for 50 years […] They had bonding games but we didn’t really bond.’

Seeing that applying for citizenship requires a minimum Permanent Residence of 2 years, it is unsurprising that the SCJ has been received with a mix of exasperation and bewilderment by most of the parties subject to it. It’s clear that most people that apply for citizenship are not as ‘foreign’ as we seem to perceive and treat them. They can be people who have spent their childhoods here and grown up in the same education system, or at least lived in Singapore for a few years.
A sense of belonging is difficult, perhaps impossible, to cultivate through a one-off programme, whether it be the community sharing or the Singapore Experiential Tour. More often than not, it is linked to specific things – the people you know, a house you’ve lived in for years, a favourite childhood park. As Natasha tactfully put it, ‘(The SCJ) was fun…I’m not sure what the purpose of it was.’

Although there is no question that the SCJ and other similar initiatives are important stepping stones, lived experiences cannot be manufactured through purpose-built programmes. Because of this, the SCJ at times can come across as too clinical. ‘This whole journey obviously aspires towards meaningful integration but the online section is a few beats off,’ Reis comments, ‘From my jaded perspective, it is a collection of bad animations and blasé writing which has rather in your face motives, which means forced and ineffective assimilation. I write that based off the assumption that the applicants are people who thoroughly considered all aspects of their life and decided to give up certain symbolic emotional ties to the nation of origin… such a big commitment obviously means that they must have an idea of Singapore’s culture and norms.’

Perhaps it can be partially attributed to these flawed attempts to artificially construct our Singaporean identity that so much confusion surrounds it. An anonymous Rafflesian, who is also a Chinese immigrant, correctly pointed out how ‘Singapore is such a developed country (that) it’s hard for any propaganda-ish ideas to take root…the government might be going a little overboard, and from purely personal observation, the people here are having a generally cynical view on the whole SG50 programme.’

Although not necessarily cynical in nature, many in the country do hold sentiments towards SG50 that understandably fall short of undying patriotism. As Akash puts it, ‘I think the fact that the government has to intervene a lot in terms of building up a stronger national identity is telling of the fact that the pride here is not as organic.’ The reality is that integration has never been entirely successful in our country, no matter how strongly we may preach multiculturalism and boast of inclusivity.

The Faults in Integration
It may surprise some of us that racial stigma still exists in Singapore; after all, we are arguably renowned for our racial and religious inclusivity – at least on paper. In practice, the ‘CMIO’ (Chinese, Malay, Indian, Other) framework has done more harm than good in facilitating societal integration, by rigidly demarcating the percentages of each race category making up our society. As Yu Mei explains, the rigidity of the CMIO paradigm eventually leads to the alienation of foreigners, no matter how familiar they may be with Singaporean culture and norms.

Akash, despite having lived in Singapore for almost his whole life and even being born in the country, has always had to deal with feeling like an outsider. A friend of his described it as ‘the shame you feel when people hold their children closer when you sit beside them on the train, but let go when they hear your local-(ish) accent.’

Others, however, are able to integrate eventually despite the initial challenges involved. For instance, Blazer says that he feels more Singaporean than American because he was born here, and has been studying in RI for over 3 years.

Overall, we’re still far from perfect – a fragmented society that finds it difficult to rally the explicit, collective pride befitting of a jubilee year celebration. Perhaps we have succeeded in integrating people from different cultures into our economy by providing them equal opportunities at work, in school, and so on. But there is still a long way to go before we can genuinely claim to hold solidarity with all Singaporeans across all backgrounds.

Conclusion
As Singapore meets its 50th year of existence, it also meets the rising insecurity of its local people, whether citizens or permanent residents, in establishing a coherent national identity. While it is relatively easy to attain a sense of belonging through the various institutes, activities and symbols that make up Singaporean culture, being accepted as Singaporean is a very different matter, and one that many still struggle with.

With the tenuous sense of identity we currently hold, perhaps it is more appropriate to strengthen this by increasing our accommodation towards those we once perceived as ‘foreign’ to us, rather than needlessly amplify the sense of estrangement that afflicts these people on a daily basis. Especially since identity has become a highly fluid and abstract concept in today’s world, who is to say that you cannot be a true Singaporean without having a Singaporean citizenship?

When we share similar values, eat the same food and attend the same proudly inclusive and diverse institutes, there is little real need for an exclusive national identity to further confuse ourselves over the question of what is Singaporean and what isn’t – rather, SG50 should be an opportunity to celebrate our multifariousness. As Alfian Sa’at (RI, 1993; RJC, 1995) puts it, in The Invisible Manuscript: ‘What needs no clarification/if indeed we are in love/is the definition of you.’

INTERVIEWEE PROFILES

by Lee Chin Wee (14A01B)

This article is a preview from the upcoming Issue #5 of the Rafflesian Times, slated for release this week.

My grandma tells me that her father was 23 when he left his village in Hainan. The year was 1919 – the world had barely recovered from the painful scars of the First World War.

Great-granddad arrived in Singapore alone – accompanied only by a small luggage that contained all his worldly possessions, and a steely determination to make enough money so he could send for his fiancé. Grandma doesn’t recall much else, but she does know that her father eventually made good on his promise – he found himself a home in Singapore, and married my great-grandmother here in the 1920s.

As an immigrant, his experience is but a short sentence in the much grander narrative of the Singapore Story. It is a story of coolies and labourers from Fujian and Guangzhou, who unloaded crate after crate of goods from the numerous sloops and barges that used to dot the Singapore River. It is the story of craftsmen and traders from Tamil Nadu and Delhi, who sailed across the Indian Ocean in search of a better life. It is the story of military officers and merchant bankers from Europe who, upon being posted to Singapore, decided that they preferred our sunny climes to the harsh winters back home. And it is the story of an indigenous Malay populace who surely must have felt overwhelmed and displaced by the sudden tsunami of humanity that had crashed onto their shores.

Today, those considered ‘alien’ are now Bangladeshi and PRC migrant workers. They are Filipino domestic helpers, Thai businessmen, and American expatriates. In a curious reversal of fortunes, it is our turn to stand by as new languages are spoken aboard our buses, and as foreign customs encroach upon our own. It all seems rather ironic that we, the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of pioneering immigrants, have become the ones who complain the most bitterly about immigration.

Perhaps it is to be expected. At 50 years young, Singapore can best be described as an adolescent nation. And like most teenagers, we have become keenly self-aware in our search for a collective identity. What makes a Singaporean is now more intangible, more elusive than possessing a red passport. We have tried to define what it is: knowing the difference between kopi o and kopi siew dai, living next door to a Malay family and opposite a Hindu temple, or being able to recognize that an ang mo is a person while Ang Mo Kio is a place.

In this search for an elusive Singaporean identity, many of us succumb to using simplistic and derogatory stereotypes that caricature what being Singaporean is /not/. Regrettably, there exists the widespread belief that a ‘real Singaporean’ would not speak with a Filipino accent. He would not walk along the Sentosa Cove promenade with his all-Caucasian family. And he would not casually spit on the pavement while jabbering away in Mandarin.

This is the paradox of the Singaporean identity – whilst we pride ourselves as a meritocratic melting pot of diverse ethnicities and cultures, this doesn’t apply if you happen to be Thai, or Burmese, or Bangladeshi, or PRC Chinese. We celebrate our immigrant heritage, yet we seek to close our doors to those who seek entry.

Many of us can call ourselves Singaporean simply because we are lucky. We are lucky that our grandparents and great-parents were willing to brave the unknown and abandon their lives back home. We are lucky that they decided to settle down here, rather than any other country in Southeast Asia. Had we been born in a different time, a different place, or to a different set of parents, we might well have found ourselves on the outside looking in. If my great-grandfather decided not to board the steamer bound for Singapore, I would probably be living on Hainan Island right now.

The Bangladeshi construction worker toiling away from dawn to dusk isn’t too different from the Chinese coolie who had to endure the merciless heat of the Singaporean sun. The Filipino domestic helper who cooks and cleans for a family is doing a job that Hainanese and Malay housewives used to perform for rich European families. Why then, are we so quick to write foreigners out of the Singaporean narrative? Why are we so quick to condemn immigrants for coming to Singapore for their own self-benefit, when that was exactly what our ancestors did?

The answer is just that we’re naturally selfish. It’s the same reason why people who were once poor, but managed to make millions of dollars, vote in favour of conservative political parties that take away welfare and lower tax rates on the wealthy. It doesn’t matter that other people are in a position that we were once in, or could have been in. It’s all too easy to remain cocooned within the self-indulgent realities of our lives, keeping a safe distance from people that we consider inferior.

To be clear, I’m not advocating for unregulated immigration. There are legitimate reasons to be cautious – for instance, I doubt that Singapore can support upwards of 6.9 million people without compromising on the standard of living of her citizens. It’s also true that immigrants might occupy jobs that would otherwise have gone to a Singaporean. And in some cases, an uncontrolled influx of immigrants can lead to an oversupply of workers, bidding down wage rates. But this isn’t something I want to discuss, because the minutiae of immigration economics are best handled by experts. What does need to be addressed, however, is the continued and insidious ‘otherization’ of immigrants in Singapore. For migrant workers already residing and working in Singapore, we need to stop treating foreigners as one of Them.

I’ve personally been guilty of quickening my footsteps at night if there’s a group of construction workers nearby. On my morning commutes to work, I’ve witnessed aunties casting dirty glares at South Indian laborers who were guilty of nothing more than taking a seat on the bus. On the Internet, netizens lie in ambush, eagerly awaiting the next insensitive slip up from an immigrant so he or she can be hounded out of the country. These may all seem like small, insignificant things, but they add up. Over time, when faced with enough cold shoulders, enough racist comments, and enough irate mutterings, foreigners will feel the sting of rejection.

Recently, an NUS study revealed that the catered food served to foreign workers in the Tai Seng area was ‘unhygienic’ and ‘stale’. While it was reported in the mainstream media and other online news sources, any change has been glacial at best. Imagine the massive public outcry if it were Singaporean children who were being forced to eat such unappetizing, foul food in their canteen. A school principal would be forced to resign, while ministers would have to make an unreserved apology. When it comes to our children and our schools, hell hath no fury like a Singaporean’s wrath. But for foreign workers, people whom we consider distant and separate from our own, their concerns are but a small footnote in our national consciousness.

In our interactions with immigrants, a simple principle to apply would be that of reciprocity. How would you want to be treated if you were overseas? Surely you would feel demeaned and insulted if an American called you a ‘chink’, or mocked your Singaporean accent in front of his friends. You wouldn’t want a Frenchman to walk past you with an upturned nose, convinced of his superiority and sophistication. Then why do so many of us think it’s okay to call Filipinos ‘Pinoys’, with a hint of derision? Why do so many of us not want to sit next to a Burmese construction worker on the bus? Why do we sneer at the English spoken by a PRC Chinese bus captain? Anyone who has been a victim of subtle racism overseas would know how degrading and dehumanizing it can be.

But this goes beyond how we treat laborers, domestic helpers, and other transient blue-collar workers. It’s also about how we treat people who are here to stay. Our table tennis team is oft-derided for being ‘China Team B’ and ‘un-Singaporean’, because we give PRC Chinese sportspeople Singaporean citizenship in exchange for their talents. It somehow seems wrong that citizenship is being used in a transactional exchange.

But all citizenship is, on some level, a transaction. We stay in Singapore because we enjoy the stability and peace here. Our friends and family are Singaporean. We appreciate the familiarity and warmth of a place that we’ve grown up in since young. And some of us just don’t have the ability to uproot and relocate. In return, the nation asks for things from us – tax, military conscription for men, a general deference to Singaporean laws. All of us have come to the decision that the holistic benefits of staying here outweigh the potential costs of leaving. A new citizen goes through the same thought process. Singapore might seem like a place of opportunity, a country that supports aspirations. It might appear to guarantee a level of security not present back home. These reasons are as valid as those we have for remaining Singaporean.

Why then, do we elevate birthright over all other gateways to Singaporean citizenship? It’s just a happy geographical accident that you happened to be born on Singaporean soil. If we believe that first generation Singaporeans are somehow ‘less authentic’ than second or third generation Singaporeans who were born in the country, then it stands to reason that our Malay friends and colleagues are far more ‘Singaporean’ than the rest of us. But this clearly isn’t a principle that our country was founded on. Someone who has moved to Singapore because they want to spend the rest of their life here doesn’t deserve to be treated like a mercenary. There are just as many born-and-bred Singaporeans who decide to remain in this country out of entirely selfish reasons, but are never classed as ‘fake’ citizens.

Maybe it is true that foreigners and new citizens aren’t taking enough initiative to integrate. After all, such tribalism is a natural human tendency. But perhaps we, as hosts to guests entering our country, have an even greater obligation to extend a warm hand of friendship and comradeship. It is easy for us to try and make friends with a foreign colleague at work, attend a Korean neighbour’s housewarming party, or simply flash a smile at a construction worker glancing our way. It is hard for a new immigrant, still adjusting to life in an unfamiliar land, to reach out beyond their comfort zone and chip away at the icy barriers erected by Singaporeans. Whether new citizen or born-and-bred native, immigrant or local, no one deserves to be erased from the Singapore Story.

by Valerie Chee (15S07B), Melissa Choi (16S06B), Esther Gao Yanxin (16S03N), Collin Teo (16S06Q) and Dominique Zhao (16S05A)

This article is a preview from the upcoming Issue #5 of the Rafflesian Times, slated for release this week.

Min-Liang Tan, CEO of Razer. (source)

One of two masterminds behind the creation of Razer, the world-leading company for gamer products, Tan Min-Liang is a man who can proudly claim to have excelled at something he truly loves. Ever since he daringly quit his job in law and ventured into entrepreneurship, Min-Liang has attained worldwide fame through unbridled creativity and sheer passion for his work.

Now with annual sales rumoured to be in the triple-digit millions and the brand’s snake logo eternalised in the form of tattoos on the skins of hundreds of devoted fans, the company has achieved unprecedented success in the gaming industry. What made Razer the gaming hardware powerhouse it is today? What impels such enduring dedication to a brand? Rafflesian Times speaks to Tan Min-Liang, co-founder, CEO and Creative Director of Razer Inc., to find out.

THE MAN
Far from being the exacting, super-formal CEO one might expect as the head of a multinational, globally renowned company, Min-Liang proved, during our interview, to be a fun-loving entrepreneur who dared to challenge the status quo. For him, ‘every day is an exciting challenge’ and ‘is so much fun’. It’s no wonder that he loves what he does, so much so that he does not even consider it work.

Min-Liang’s passion for competitive gaming started when was a kid, having ‘played a lot of Quake and Unreal Tournament’. At the age of six, he and his older brother were exposed to the world of gaming and spent all their spare time there. Ironically, he was rejected by the computer club in RI, but assures us that he is not bitter, albeit remembering this even twenty years later.

Even in his Junior College days, he exemplified a key trait of an entrepreneur – not giving up in the face of setbacks. ‘My results at the end of my first year was F-O-O-D (equivalent to USSD today) – FOOD, so I can remember that, and I had to argue my way to be promoted to J2 – but that was pretty funny.’ Eventually, he made colossal improvements and bagged 4A‘s for his A Levels.

Later, Min-Liang graduated from the National University of Singapore Faculty of Law in 1995 and practised as a lawyer for a couple of years, before making the daring switch to entrepreneurship. Not long after, he designed and tested the world’s first gaming mouse, the Razer Boomslang, which was launched in 1998, taking the world of high-performance gaming by storm. The company’s formative years in the early 2000s were punctuated with sizeable struggles – a blur of designing products he wanted to use and selling them directly to gamers online. In assembling his team, he disavowed focus groups or market research, instead assembling it like a massive multiplayer online (MMO) game.

In 2005, after conquering the odds of the burst of the dot.com bubble and repeated factory shutdowns, Min-Liang took the helm as CEO of Razer with his American friend Robert Krakoff as President. This was just the beginning of his success story. As recognition for his revolutionary work and originality, Business Insider named him one of ‘The 25 Most Creative People in Tech’ in 2013. And in March this year, he became a Board member on the Intellectual Property Office of Singapore.

A stark contrast to his seemingly spontaneous, off-the- cuff personality, Min-Liang’s role supervising and directing the design and development of all products requires meticulous attention to detail and a degree of control that few can pull off. He declares that till today, ‘Every single outward facing design, whether it’s a poster in Poland, a retail shelf in the US, or even a little card, I still approve every single thing. I’m a bit of a control freak.’ According to him, even their name cards (pictured right) ‘are printed in specific places in world’, and ‘with the same card stock.’

Min-Liang’s combination of audacity and unconventionality is unique – he tells us that he still doesn’t know many people who have switched from professional careers to more unorthodox ones. Even more laudable is the fact that he fully respects the choices his peers make. He professes, ‘I don’t believe that there’s a “path less travelled”, as everybody chooses their own path.’ To him, the most important thing is that ‘whatever path that you’re in, you do well in it.’ In fact, for many of his RI classmates, ‘the traits that they had back in the day are making them incredible at what they do today.’

EMINENCE OF THE TRIPLE-HEADED SNAKE

‘I think we’ve created a phenomenal brand, today we’re the leading brand for gamers, everywhere in the world… you don’t need to show them [gamers] the logo – you show them the black and bright green accent, they go like “Hey, that’s a Razer thing!”’

As Razer contends for international recognition, the proliferation of its distinctive logo has served to showcase exactly how much the company has grown over the years. Min-Liang attributes ‘only constant reinforcement and adherence to the company philosophy’ to building the brand of the company, and ultimately amassing a global following. He remarks that ‘for us [Razer], the vision has always been pretty straightforward – we focus on the gamers. “For gamers, by gamers”. That single vision has really helped us.’

‘Many of them [other gaming companies] have tried to replicate what we do. They can’t replicate cool. I think it’s because of our focus and that we are gamers ourselves.’

Min-Liang further claims that authenticity has turned out to be the prevailing quality and winning attribute of the company. Indeed, it has allowed the team at Razer to put themselves into the shoes of the gamer in order to perfect and optimise what consumers get to enjoy and experience.

He concurs with pride, ‘We’re deeply, incredibly passionate about the products we make. And it’s not just about products, it’s about the packaging. It’s not just about the packaging, it’s about when you read the Press that we do, or the marketing, or even when you step into the office. Every single thing has a very unified approach and vision.’

When questioned on how exactly he manages to bring this authenticity across to such a global audience, Min-Liang cites an obstinate refusal to cut corners. ‘For us, we have literally, for example, destroyed hundreds of thousands, or even millions of dollars of product, even when the smallest items are not up to par… When the designers or new engineers come in, they go like “What’s the big deal about it? Nobody’s going to see it.” And our point is, we know it, and we’re going to nuke $750,000 worth of products because we didn’t do this well.’

BEHIND THE SCENES
In the past, a main priority for Tan Min-Liang used to be vetting the hiring processes for the company. However, he conceded with a mild sense of disappointment that in recent years, the process of painstakingly vetting every single candidate has turned out to be, simply put, too time-consuming. Despite this, Min-Liang still strives to source for the best, strikingly unique talents to join his company.

Future Razer aspirants, take note. He listed ‘hunger, passion, and of course, smarts in what they do’ as the top qualities that stand out amongst future members of the Razer team. Notably, Min-Liang has even offered jobs to independent creatives that simply did ‘something cool on Youtube’. Hiring creative, self-motivated individuals has added dynamism to the company’s talent pool, taking it to greater heights.

Aside from their ultimate goal to wow, Razer epitomises the phrase ‘work hard, play hard’, embracing it as part of their work culture. Min-Liang ensures a healthy balance by consistently pushing for top-notch, quality performance (Razer has taken top honours at the International Consumer Electronics Show for five consecutive years) while fostering a relaxed and laid back atmosphere within the workplace, introducing unconventional measures such as allowing employees to play computer games such as Defence Of The Ancients (DOTA) during office hours. To the justified jealousy of gamers everywhere, he even handed out personal Blades (Razer laptops), to each and every member of the company, at the expense of a $2 million dollar hit to the company. His rationale?

‘The only mission that we have for everybody is that we’re giving everybody a Blade, so that you guys can play computer games. And that’s what we do.’

SETTING UP BASE
Apart from his astute and steadfast management of the company’s inner workings, Min-Liang has developed a keen understanding of the business scene that Razer thrives in. Back when Razer officially entered the business world ten years ago, start-ups, quite frankly, ‘weren’t sexy’. Without any .coms coming out of Singapore, nor any mega companies, introducing yourself as an entrepreneur or technopreneur was typically met with a glaring lack of interest.

Even to date, Singapore has yet to be the birthplace of any mega companies, or ‘unicorns’. So while Min-Liang acknowledges that things have improved and changed dramatically in the past couple of years, Singapore is, in actuality, ‘still very far from that Silicon Valley culture’. One thing he likes to tell the government bodies he sits on is that this is mainly a cultural issue. ‘If I’m in San Francisco and I’m grabbing my Starbucks in the morning, more often than not, the guy behind me is saying “Hey look! Have you seen the new app?” or “I’ve got this new idea I’m pitching to a VC (Venture Capitalist).”… Over here, usually what I hear in the morning when they’re buying breakfast is “eh, what are you going to have for lunch ah?”… In the Valley, it’s all about trying to find the next round of funding, the great idea. Here, I think the perspectives are very different.’

Although startup culture in Singapore evidently differs vastly from that in the USA, Min-Liang emphasises that it is not at all a negative thing – merely a cultural disparity. In fact, he remarks that ‘Today, it’s actually easier to start-up in Singapore, with all the grants and stuff like that. The question is whether it’s easier to succeed in Singapore.’

But it’s not just Singapore’s business scene that has evolved over the years; inevitably, the people in it have changed as well. The influx of millennials into the workforce has been accompanied by no shortage of criticism and derisive labels – ‘the strawberry generation’, ‘Generation Me’, and so on. Yet, Min-Liang has remained unabashedly optimistic in his view of the millennials throughout his experiences working with them, even going so far as to predict that “this generation is going to be truly phenomenal.”

‘A kid today with a smartphone has more information in his hand than the president of the US fifteen years ago. Literally with that in mind, I think the millennials are a hugely exciting group of people,’ he points out. Even the widespread sentiment that Generation Y is ‘soft’ and ‘coddled’ does not seem to apply to Razer’s employees at all. ‘Do we give them a hard time? Hugely so.’ says Min-Liang. ‘We scream, we yell at them, whatever it is. But they don’t break down – in fact they come back, and they’re hugely passionate about the products.’ It seems that the millennials working for Razer do not live up to the bad name which the public so often labels us with. ‘The difference is when they get an opportunity to be a part of something much greater and contribute back,’ Min-Liang reflects. Or, as he jokingly puts it, ‘Maybe it’s because they get to play DOTA at the office all the time.’

MEMORIES OF RAFFLES
Speaking to Min-Liang, his ample love for his alma mater is almost instantly clear. His years in RI being one of the best times of his life, he asserts that ‘it’s the friendships that you make, and the clowns that you meet, and the people that you fight with’ that made RI what it was for him.

In addition, Min-Liang reminisces that RI used to be a great social leveller. He pointed out that ‘you get guys from all sorts of backgrounds’ and that even till today, many of them still remain as great friends, despite their differing backgrounds. Testament to this is the fact that the current Chief Finance Officer of Razer used to be Min-Liang’s Secondary 1 classmate.

Till this day, Min-Liang frequently meets up with his friends from RI for hearty chats. He tells us ‘I don’t remember the Chemistry lessons, or whatnot that I’ve gone through. What I do remember, are the people.’ Perhaps most moving of all is the love he has for Raffles, best embodied by this quote: ‘My admin always turns away most of the press interviews I do, and she was like “Why are you doing this?” because she turns away like everything else. I said “because it’s RI and I am happy to do something for RI.”’

CONCLUSION
Today Razer is larger than ever – and in huge part thanks to the work of Tan Min-Liang. If there’s anything that can be learnt from his story, it’s that an undying passion for the unorthodox, thinking out of the box and the will to push through with it is what creates success. As Rafflesians, we’ve always prided ourselves as the ‘thinkers, leaders and pioneers’, but how often is it that we truly dare to challenge the status quo and try something new? Min-Liang’s journey has shown that taking the path less travelled has its payoffs, albeit with much struggle and difficulty. Nevertheless, it’s this attitude of entrepreneurship that we should aspire to emulate.

by Wahid Al Mamun (15A01A), William Hoo (15A01E), Alex Tan (16S03B), Karen Cuison (16A01D), Choo Shuen Ming (16A01E) and Adelyn Tan (16A01E)

This article is a preview from the upcoming Issue #5 of the Rafflesian Times, slated for release this week.

The Dim Sum Dollies trio. From left to right: Pamela Oei, Selena Tan and Denise Tan

Remember that catchy ‘Train is coming, train is coming!’ jingle? Does The History of Singapore ring a bell? Fronting the SMRT courtesy campaign, as well as recent musical romps about our nation‘s past are the quirky and eternally funny Dim Sum Dollies®.

The Dollies are known for the sharp, sassy and accessible humour with which they tackle local concerns – in full-length musicals, no less. From Operation Coldstore to MRT breakdowns, no affair in Singaporean history is too small or political to escape the Dollies’ sly eyes and fun puns. Naturally, the trio has grown to become a well-loved fixture in Singapore’s
arts scene.

Selena Tan, Pam Oei, and Emma Yong founded the Dim Sum Dollies in 2002. Following Yong’s passing in 2012, Denise Tan joined the group. Of the four, Selena Tan (RJC, 1988), Pam Oei (RJC, 1989) and Emma Yong (RGS, 1991; RJC, 1993) are graduates of RI.

Tan and Oei have come a long way since their RI days. As the founder of Dream Academy®, Tan oversees company direction and welfare. Oei currently juggles motherhood, Dolliehood, fronting and writing for a rock band, and preparing to direct a play at the end of the year. We caught up with the duo amidst their busy schedules for a quick chat about where they came from, and where they are today.

ORIGINS
The Dim Sum Dollies’ pre-university days played no small part in their growth. Both Oei and Tan first realised their passion for the stage in their secondary school days, where they honed their creative sides through a bevy of theatre-related activities. Oei’s calling was made known to her after she volunteered as a backstage crew member for Beauty World. She consequently turned down subsequent offers to be part of other crews. School plays had taught Oei that she would rather be on stage than behind it.

Tan was inspired by various Shakespearean performances and workshops held in her secondary school. Teachers constantly helped her unearth and develop her passion for theatre. Back in Fairfield Methodist School, Tan was part of the English Language Drama and Debate Society (ELDDS). The teacher-in-charge of the Society, Ms Lim, encouraged Tan to attend a drama camp – and attend it she did. She fell in love with the art form, taking on theatrical projects from the tender
age of 14.

Following secondary school, Tan’s time in Raffles Junior College was defined by her ‘good education’ in the Humanities Programme, as a student of 88A01B. Tan muses, ‘We were taught to think… and to question. We did a lot of extra stuff on our own.’ Her class once put up a performance of The Importance of Being Earnest all by themselves in Lecture Theatre 3. Oei, who studied Physics, Chemistry, Math and Economics as a member of 89S06A, unflinchingly – and laughingly – recalls her academic disinclination. ‘I was probably one of the banes of the teachers’ existences,’ she jokes. ‘I think the choice of subjects was a poor one!’

Tan’s experience as a debater stood her in good stead for her degree in law at the National University of Singapore (NUS). Oei opted for a degree in architecture at the same university. As university students, they worked odd jobs to make ends meet while establishing their reputation in the theatre scene. Day jobs paid the bills, and night theatre jobs paid paltry sums with the completion of entire projects. Nonetheless, fuelled by their hunger for the stage and an awareness of their potential, the two soldiered on.

Tan remarks, ‘By the time I finished my law degree, I’d actually been an actor and a singer much longer than I had been a lawyer!’ Despite the fact that she had already been actively pursuing theatrical opportunities from a young age, her decision to go professional as a stage actress still did not sit well with her parents initially. After all, she was willingly abandoning the law profession – and with it, her sizeable salary – for a field with uncertain monetary prospects.

‘They said “don’t do it”. I remember thinking very carefully about it, and then I planned it. I planned it on my birthday. I brought my parents out to a coffeeshop in the morning – thought there wouldn’t be any big major outbursts there – and told them quite plainly that I was going to give it a try. I had my resignation letter, told them how much money I had, and that I would be able to survive, and not to worry. Then I went to work.Then I came home at night and my mother was crying. And my mother asked, “Do you want to reconsider?” And I said, “No, I’ve already decided.” After that, she was just resigned, I suppose.’

GROWING AS A TRIO
The Dim Sum Dollies’ subsequent success was fraught with its own set of trials. Despite the group’s job offers and collective experience, establishing their presence in local theatres remained an uphill task.

Tan’s business acumen and foresight was instrumental towards securing The Dollies’ foothold in the arts scene. As Oei put it, The Dollies aimed to ‘create the shows [they wanted] to create’, effectively charting their own paths. It was a daunting and risky shift, especially for actors accustomed to living from job to job. ‘[We had to] put a lot more risk out there in order for there to be a plan forward,’ Tan recalls. Oei is quick to praise Tan for her drive: ‘I can think of very few actors who would be able to create a company for [themselves] and plan a future in this career.’

This willingness to take risks enabled a milestone in the Dollies’ career: Tan made a radical decision to move the Dollies from the 400-seater Jubilee Hall in Raffles Hotel, to the 2000-seater Esplanade. Oei recalls her apprehension upon the announcement of the move. ‘After punching her I said, “How are we going to do it?!”’ But do it they did – their opening show played to a full house.

Pam: You were yawning backstage. I remember that.
Selena: I told you already, my yawning is a defence mechanism.
Pam: Who yawns when stressed out?! This is just ridiculous.
Selena: Trying to get as much air into my brain as possible!
Pam: Yeah, that was a truly horrifying terrifying night.
Selena: But it was fun.
Pam: It was. But terrifying. Terrifying and fun. Like a rollercoaster ride.
Selena: Really.

The show’s resounding success prompted the Dollies to realise that they were willing and able to forge ahead, both in their line of work and as an act.

The Dollies carry out the ‘terrifying’ on a regular basis too – and by regular, they mean at every show. Selena shared, ‘For many Dim Sum Dollies shows, we’ve been dangled in the air, up in the rafters waiting to… [be] flown down. But before you’re flown down you have to go up, and you actually have to hang in the dark for a long time. So in the dark, it’s just you and your harness, looking at the little lights in front of you!’ Oei quips, ‘Dangling in the dark is a true Dim Sum Dollies experience.’

Speaking of the regular, the Dollies’ current stage commitments are relentless. Rehearsals are gruelling, and there is no space or time for backing out. After all, venues have already been booked at least a year in advance, and audience expectations have to be met. Furthermore, the Dollies are too iconic to be substitutable. They have no doubles. Stopping is simply not an option. ‘There’s no such thing as a good day or a bad day…. There are so many other people working with you, for you, and you can’t not want to do what you need to do,’ came the candid remark from Oei. It was promptly echoed by Tan. ‘[Preparing for a show] is like an assembly line, I suppose. If you drop a ball, everybody else is affected.’ Fortunately (and unsurprisingly), good days are far more common than less-good ones. Oei sums up the sentiment neatly: ‘At the end of the day, I still love it.’

PERKS OF THE NICHE
To both women, the significant growth of the local theatre scene is largely a product of changing perceptions. In terms of practitioners, more people are taking the plunge into full-time work. ‘It’s much bigger now, definitely. It’s more professional; most of us are working full-time. We’re full-time practitioners, whereas it was unheard of before. Everyone had day jobs. Everyone was a lawyer. Everyone rehearsed at night,’ Oei says.

Perceptions are also changing when it comes to the nature of the discourse that local English theatre is allowed to engage in. Today, boundaries are being pushed further than ever before. The Dim Sum Dollies’ December show, The History of Singapore Part 2 went to so far as to reference controversial moments in Singapore‘s history. These include Operation Spectrum, the alleged Marxist conspiracy of 1987. The Dim Sum Dollies were let off easily, with light script revisions by the Media Development Authority. This was possibly due to theatre’s relatively niche viewership, compared to, say, television. In the words of Oei: ‘We get away with a lot more, I think.’

Is the status quo going to be challenged even further? Apparently, the answer lies in the hands of the people. Tan declares: ‘If everybody agrees that they’re all ready, they’re ready.’ Oei adds thoughtfully that society today is governed less by the authorities and more by the people.

All in all, the Dim Sum Dollies soundly embody Singapore theatre today – vibrant, full of ideas, and growing in reach. With their majority appeal in a minority field, the Dollies fill an important role in the local arts scene. This is especially so with their witty, timely messages that just about toe the line between the spoken and unspeakable, and that serve as barometers of local sentiment. As Singapore society continues to flourish and mature in terms of its ability to carry out meaningful dialogue on the issues that hit home, the Dollies will surely be there every step of the way, adding every news bite to every new play.

REMEMBERING EMMA
In 2012, Emma Yong (RGS, 1991; RJC, 1993) passed away from stomach cancer at the age of 37. A student of the Humanities Programme, she graduated from RJC in 1993. Emma’s time in RJC nurtured her passion for the arts. She performed in plays and musicals, and was a member of the Film Society. In particular, joining the film society developed her eye for literature – so much so that she won the Angus Ross Prize in 1994, awarded to the top non-British student in the Literature A-Levels. ‘Emma was very bright,’ remarked her Literature tutor, Mr Geoff Purvis. ‘She was very interested in literature, very intense… quite sharp.’

Upon graduation from RI, Emma completed an honours degree at University College London in English Literature. Following this, she completed her post-graduate degree in musical theatre at London’s Mountview Academy of Theatre Arts. Noted Mr Purvis: ‘We all admired the fact that… talented as she was, [she did] not become yet another lawyer… [we admired] her integrity in pursuing what she loved… especially in those days when serious professional theatre in Singapore was in its infancy.’

While Emma went on to star in numerous theatrical productions, she is best remembered as a Dim Sum Dolly.

In her memory, the Emma Yong Fund was established in 2012 as a means to honour Emma’s life and work, and to give financial aid to theatre practitioners in Singapore who are suffering from critical illnesses.

By Alex Tan (16S03B), Louisa Li (16A13A), Adelyn Koh (16S06H), Lim Lex-xis (16S03M) and Gladys Lim (16S03K)

The following is a preview from the upcoming Issue #6 of the Rafflesian Times, slated for release this Friday.

A useful means of chatting and connecting with friends. A convenient platform facilitating work-related discussions and conversations. A trustworthy source of world news and road directions. A refuge from awkward social situations. A mobile phone might be several, or all, of these things to you, if you, like the vast majority of the student population, happen to possess one. No matter what, the fact that we depend on our phones with a near-total reliance is a matter that leaves little doubt. Eager for a challenge, the five of us decided to embark upon a five-day phone fast, in which we were allowed to use our phones for no more than two half-hour periods daily. How masochistic, you might think, but the phone fast induced us to ask ourselves certain questions about the way we spend our time and the role of technology in our lives. The insights proffered were certainly well worth the brief pain.

Conceivably, most of us felt a sense of frustration from being deprived of our mobile phones. Checking our phones had become such a habitual, and even subconscious, action and we performed it so routinely from day to day that their absence was acutely sensed when the phone fast was imposed. We could not mindlessly whip out our phones and casually glance at the messages we had received, or noncommittally scroll through our social media feeds.

Instead, we were impelled to spend our time more mindfully and productively. Many of us reported increased efficiency and concentration, as our commitment to the fast allowed us to ignore phone notifications with a much greater ease than usual. As a result, Adelyn was able to pack in two undistracted hours of organic chemistry revision.

Some of us were annoyed because our peculiar habits of phone usage were denied. Gladys yearned to tell her friends about ‘all the weird things’ that had happened to her over the course of a typical day, as she was accustomed to doing. Louisa the workaholic had to constantly resist the temptation to efficiently reply to all her work-related messages. That we felt a strong sense of chagrin, and even pain, was testament to the integrality and importance of mobile phones in our daily lives. Adelyn echoed this sentiment, comparing the experience to that of a ‘drug addict experiencing withdrawal symptoms’.

Of course, one of the catches of this challenge was that whilst we were compelled to shake off every urge to use our phone, everyone else around us was not. Our friends continued to reply to WhatsApp messages, open Instagram, and take selfies in their normal, habitually frequent fashion. Against this background of incessant phone usage, we felt our inability to use our phones all the more glaringly.

These exasperated rants might lead you think that the phone fast was a tortuous ordeal. But it was, on the whole, far from that. Louisa found it ‘surprisingly easy and liberating’, while Alex thought the experiment ‘not an incredibly drastic change’. The difficulty of the fast also hinged on certain particularities, such as the day of the week and the time of the day. Over the weekend, avoiding contact with our phones was aided by strategies such as stowing the device away in a drawer, or simply leaving it out of plain sight. For Lex-xis, the real problem arose during the school week, as pressing deadlines and heavy workloads rendered it much more exigent and urgent to reply to messages promptly.

Indubitably, the phone fast entailed no small amount of self-discipline and tenacity, but the benefits reaped were of commensurate proportion. Besides helping us to eliminate a potent source of distractions, the fast also taught us the value of forward-planning. Alex planned his bus routes to the smallest, most intricate detail as he was prohibited from referring to the Google Maps app on his phone. To coordinate her group work, Gladys drafted an entire message on her computer before typing it into WhatsApp during the allocated half-hour block of phone usage. In short, we were forced to seriously consider how we should spend our two precious half-hour periods with our phones. The phone fast became, in effect, a sort of simulated worst-case scenario, in which we had to prepare for all contingencies. We were therefore keenly alerted to the possibility that our own mobile phones might end up failing us one day, and that we should be able to react with prudence and responsiveness.

This enhanced ability to respond to situations was no less evident in our day-to-day social interactions. Our conversations with our friends became more intentional as we invested more effort and heart in deepening our relationships with the people around us. In fact, many friends accommodatingly stowed away their phones upon hearing about our fast, and demonstrated a reciprocal interest in having better, more mindful conversations.

Yet we were, at certain junctures, ambivalent about the challenge. Being uncertain about how definitively it could produce a change in our habits and subconscious behaviours, some of us thought that the conversations were contrived. The concerted effort required was much more evident when our friends were disengaged, continuing to be on their phones as we endeavoured to talk to them. Moreover, we were prone to treating our half-hour periods of phone usage with excessive importance. On some days, we focused too intensely on our phone screens during those periods at the expense of the surrounding people and action. This seemed, ironically, to run contrary to the phone fast’s original purpose.

In sum, it would not be an overstatement to say that the phone fast was a fulfilling experience, encouraging us to resist the temptation of consistently engaging with social media. Having gone through it, a pervasive sentiment of cleansing and relinquishment was among us. In stripping away the inessential and giving up what we had no need of, we increasingly normalised the act of being away from our phones and, more importantly, from constant contact and social engagement. The school’s recent mobile phone policy, although very relevant and necessary, would mean nothing if we did not find the self-discipline within ourselves to reduce our mobile phone usage, and turn our attentions more wholly to worthier pursuits. We began a journey of learning to be more content in our separate realms of solitude, to better carve out impregnable spaces of silence and alone time. Today, we are still learning that.

Pick up a copy of RT6 for the full scoop, including a Phone Fast Log from Dean of Character and Citizenship Education Ms Melissa Lim!

By Noor Adilah (17S06B), Nadiya Nesseer (17S03B)

The following is a preview from the upcoming Issue #7 of the Rafflesian Times, slated for release this Tuesday.

‘If there’s a way to make things better, and we are aware of [these ways], why not volunteer?’

Tim Min Jie, Community Advocate

Ever so often, we get to know of RI students and staff who have gone over and above their daily obligations in school to channel their time into volunteering and service for others.

A quick straw poll shows that roughly 30% of the RI population, including teachers, currently commit regularly to service work for a variety of different causes. Such service work may come in conventional forms – when staff tutor at youth outreach organisations, or volunteering at community centres; to the less conventional – students who volunteer teaching migrant workers English, teachers who volunteer at marine conservation centres or staff who help out with Meet-The-People Sessions. Some students even choose to join service CCAs such as the Interact Club, Community Advocates or enrichment programmes like International Service Learning Enrichment (ISLE), to commit regularly to the practice of volunteering and spreading awareness about the causes they involve themselves in.

Members of Community Advocates embark on weekly volunteer sessions in the causes they believe are pressing and important.

Ideally, volunteering allows for us to involve ourselves in ways that affect positive change and address the underlying issues present in our society today. Volunteering strips away the insularities and predispositions that we have and brings us closer to a realisation that we, as individuals, have a deeper purpose and obligation to others – by working without reward so that those less privileged than us may be accorded their rights to welfare, dignity, opportunity and fulfillment.

We spoke with Shermaine Ng, an alumna of RI, who started engaging in volunteer work as part of the RI Interact Club.

‘The most enjoyable moments were the intimate conversations we would share with the seniors as we befriended them one by one.’

Shermaine Ng, class of 2015

Shermaine regularly volunteered with a team of other Interactors at the Sunlove Home Dementia Daycare Centre, where interactions with the elderly reminded her to adopt a broader perspective towards her everyday life as a Rafflesian.

‘Committing myself to service kept me human, it continuously reinforced values that I found close to heart like humility, loving, kindness and consistency.’

Shermaine Ng, class of 2015

Urging more students in the Rafflesian community to step up and give back to the society, Shermaine hopes that more would advocate for volunteerism by sharing the volunteer commitments they have and how they make service a lifestyle.  For her, this is a pivotal role that current volunteers should play, so as to raise awareness about the importance of volunteering.

‘For these conversations to change, we must first start to believe in our own worthiness. Only then, will we begin to detach the things we do and achieve from the value that we perceive we hold. ‘

Shermaine Ng, Class of 2015

Despite how fulfilling and honourable the task of volunteering may seem, there are a number of legitimate concerns that volunteers – both students and teachers alike – have to confront and accept while volunteering. An anonymous student elaborated on the limitations of student volunteerism which, to him, is inherently less effective than volunteering as an adult.

‘Although [organisations that address systemic issues] are the ones that I want to volunteer for, I can’t because I need to be above 18 or above 20 to begin.’

A pragmatic, but essentially important concern that many have, especially teachers, is that taking short periods of time to volunteer outside of work may not necessarily cause a lot of change, if not any at all. Often, spending a short amount of time outside of school or work to conduct an unskilled task cannot realistically make that much of a difference, unless the work is highly personalised.

‘It’s [more] valuable to have one committed, skilled worker than a hundred unskilled, low-commitment [volunteers].’

Raffles Community Advocates (CA), a service CCA dedicated to advocacy and direct service for migrant workers, underprivileged children and the mentally ill aims to change this lack of training amongst student volunteers. According to Mr Steffen Toh, a teacher in charge, students in CA are constantly surrounded by “a warm, collegial and supportive community [where] trust is placed in [their] passionate advocates”. Students are encouraged to constantly educate themselves by attending activism events like the recent Apa Itu Activist? event organised by the Association of Women for Action and Research (AWARE). They also constantly find opportunities to share their own experiences and knowledge about what it means to advocate and volunteer through A Day In the Life Of An Advocate sessions. In Community Advocates, students are pushed to not only make service to others an obligation, but an experience that can always be made better with constant reflection and training.

“Feel-good” forms of volunteerism can ultimately only benefit the volunteer, and not have any effect on or even harm the target group.

Unfortunately, the same enthusiasm for volunteer training is not shared amongst all student volunteers in RI. Many student volunteers do not understand the importance of training to ensure sustainable and effective change is created. The implications of untrained volunteering, especially from individuals who possess a careless “anything goes” attitude can be disastrous.

We often hear about ‘voluntourism’ – often practiced by untrained, freshly graduated who are looking for “new experiences” by volunteering in developing countries. Giving out wristbands and painting classrooms for a month, then getting obligatory selfies with orphans before flying back home is hardly sustainable or positive – in fact, in many cases, these acts of “selflessness” cause more harm than good – the impermanence and transience of voluntourism can exacerbate existing problems in these foreign countries and contribute to a system which relies on short-term help instead of long-term systemic changes.

This same negative attitude may be echoed in RI’s own overseas volunteering programmes. The International Service Learning Enrichment Programme (ISLE) consists of students and teachers who conduct a project every year which involves developing an overseas community, Ms Ruth Ong from ISLE spoke about some of the harmful attitudes that are present amongst some of the students when they intend to conduct overseas volunteering work.

‘Students [start off] having “saviour mentality” attitudes …  and practice sympathy instead of empathy.’

Ms Ruth Ong, Teacher In Charge of International Service Learning Enrichment

However, the ISLE programme ensures that these harmful ways of thinking are quickly addressed through various training programmes and courses. Mr Yang Haojin states that such sensitivity training has educated students to become better volunteers and ensures that the service they do does not come off as condescending, but rather as an exchange of ideas. “In ISLE, we are careful with our choice of words. We try not to use words like “help”, “beneficiaries” etc. Although inadvertently they do come out from time to time, we always encourage the view that the entire project is one that of partnership – as equals.”

We often take volunteer work for children as a given good.

Following the same train of thought, Raffles Community Advocates also aims to train its members to constantly re-evaluate the work that they do, so that Advocates can constantly improve the advocacy and the direct service that they do for migrant workers, the mentally ill and underprivileged children. Mr Steffen Toh, the teacher in charge, says that “What we can do … is to thoroughly understand the situation from the perspectives of all key parties involved without bringing to the fore any preconceived notions of our own.”

‘This process [of understanding others] should not just be intellectual in nature, … but should also be emotional and situated within the realities and experiences of the [people] we try to help and advocate to.’

Mr Steffen Toh, Teacher In Charge of Community Advocates

From all perspectives, volunteering as a part of one’s CCA, Monday Enrichment or even on an individual basis requires a lot of work on behalf of the volunteer – not just to commit to the practice of service, but out of a constant need to reflect about and realign one’s own beliefs. This makes volunteering a dynamic experience, where volunteers and beneficiaries change over time, together.

“What we can do … is to thoroughly understand the situation from the perspectives of all key parties involved without bringing to the fore any preconceived notions of our own.”

Anyone can be a volunteer, but it takes high levels of empathy, energy and courage to connect to others, to work tirelessly in championing a cause and to make a real difference.

‘The impact of advocacy is compounded. Imagine saying something in a small, enclosed room where the noise amplifies, bouncing off the walls. Word travels fast and people talk. I strongly believe that being a [student] advocate and volunteer is really powerful. ‘

Shermaine Ng, Class of 2015

By Tan Jun Xiang (14S06C) and Allison Choong (14S05B)

Perhaps the biggest headline that featured on our website last year was the departure of our long-serving principal, Mrs. Lim Lai Cheng. Yet even as we look back on the sweeping changes of the past 5 years, we also welcome the arrival of Mr. Chan Poh Meng – an ex-principal of Victoria Junior College who has taken over the task of helming our school.

Mr. Chan is by no means a stranger to our school, having graduated from this very institution in 1975. Since then, he has worked his way to becoming a talented educator whose credentials speak for themselves. Being an old boy, it almost seems as if we should know him pretty well, but we don’t. His personality, character, and future ambitions for the school all remain a mystery to us, save for the odd rumours floating in from our friends in VJC.

As journalists, natural curiosity drove us to find out more about the man with a plan for RI. This is the result: a candid interview where we discuss his personality, opinions and future plans for the school.

What sort of principal would you describe yourself as?

RI will be the third school I’m leading — Outram Secondary School was my first, and the second was VJC. I would describe myself with the abbreviation ‘ABC’: approachable, bubbly and communicative! I’m a very people-oriented principal—to me people matter the most, because passionate individuals driven by the right purpose can do a lot for the world. Of course, sometimes I do realise that when I am too people-centric, I may sometimes give the impression that anything goes and that rules are not important. But that’s very not true—I’m also quite rule-centred, because rules which are established by a community provide the structure for people to understand each other better and establish a working culture.

How does it feel to take on the task of helming the school for the next few years?

‘Challenging’ would actually be the first thing that comes to mind. I feel that I shouldn’t take for granted the progress we’ve made. As a returning alumnus, I don’t want to fall into the trap of imposing what RI was like in the past onto the present. Yet I’m also sure that the alumni expect me, as a Rafflesian, to retain the true spirit of the school. That’s why it is challenging—not the long hours at work or the size of the school, but trying to capture the true Rafflesian spirit. Leading the school is a two-way process—as much as I can provide input, I need the help of students, their parents, staff and old boys and girls to work together in creating a new future for the school.

From the perspective of an old boy, how has RI changed since you left? What was your experience of school life and school culture, and would you like to ‘recreate’ this experience?

I graduated in 1975, but I did come back to RI from 1976 to about 1980 as a boy scout. I even went to Thailand with the scouts as an alumnus. I also did one term of cadet teaching in 1982 for six months. So that was the RI that I last knew. After that I came back to RI only for meetings, but I did not get involved in the school anymore, as I was so busy in my own career as a teacher and everything else. So, in my impression of RI, I am almost like an outsider.

What I enjoyed most as a RI boy was a six-year school where I was given a chance to grow up with peers who were a few years my senior, and as I grew up and became a senior myself, I was able to be a senior to some of my juniors in return. I was a troop leader for the boy scouts in Pre-U 1, and I thoroughly feel that that was a very important experience for me, because I was a peer leader in the most natural of contexts.

Back then, we still had teachers in charge, but the ones actually running the boy scouts were the troop leaders, the Pre-U 1s, because the Pre-U 2s were busy studying for their A-Level exams. This happened in most of the CCAs, and even the girls who came in at the Pre-University level also became natural leaders. Seniors would mentor their juniors, and the juniors in return would learn from their seniors’ role-modelling, and that was very impactful.

RI has become so big now—it takes me 20 minutes to walk from one end of the campus to the other. The sheer size of the school has likely changed the quality and nature of the interactions between seniors and juniors. And the almost romantic notion that I had about seniors helping juniors may have disappeared, or may just not be the same. If I am right, I want to do something about it.

Broadly speaking, what direction would you like to take RI in the next five years?

People outside of RI may sometimes harbour a lot of misunderstandings about our school. I experienced the consequences of such misunderstandings when I was a 13-year-old RI boy. In the last five years though, this issue has become increasingly prevalent, because of all the accolades that RI has won and also this national consciousness that we want to make sure that nobody is left behind. So, first, I want to make sure that the community around RI reads us correctly.

I live around here, and I think of myself as a very ‘Bishan community’ person. I take public transport; I don’t drive, I don’t have a car. I’m telling you this because I feel quite strongly that RI’s presence is not felt in our immediate community. RI’s presence in Singapore is felt, sometimes in the wrong way. I’d like to make sure that the Bishan-Toa Payoh community knows RI more.

I think we should reach out to the residents here and let them know what RI stands for. Charity begins from the home. When Rafflesians doing community service are featured in the media, that’s great, because it lets the general public know what we’re doing to give back to society. But it would be even better if we could impact our community to the extent that they stand up for us and tell the world about us—I think that would be so much more impactful.

In addition, I would also like to bring RI to a place where we are more exploratory and more open about things. For example, I’m a movie buff, and I’ve been following people with non-academic pursuits—all the chefs, musicians, and movie makers—and I feel that there’s a big, wide world out there outside of your conventional, regular careers like law and medicine. Nothing wrong with being regular; we do need good doctors as well! But what I’m really saying is that I would like for us, over the next five years, to be open and explore ‘alternatives’.

Mr Chan’s Pre-U Class, I Arts C

In the midst of concerns like CCA closure and dwindling interest in non-competitive CCAs, how will you work to support the school’s CCAs?

Let me first state that I strongly believe in the value of CCAs. However, when we evaluate whether a CCA should continue or be closed down, we have to go back to the objectives—why was it set up, and did it fulfil what it set out to do? We also have to talk to the members and ask them why they want to continue, and explain to them to why certain current conditions have to be met before we can carry on with the activity.

Otherwise, their official status (which may include funding, manpower and resources, and even infrastructure) may be changed into an SIG (Special Interest Group), where some of these things are less important, and you can still pursue your interests. It may even become something that’s not an SIG—where you actually make membership more open, where maybe even non-Rafflesians can take part..

I want to give a message to Rafflesians—I’m not here to close things down, but I’m here to look at the rationale, and what’s best for us. CCAs are extremely important, especially for holistic development, and I’ve believed this since I was 13 years old. However, I want to emphasise this again—I’m not here to lead my own life; I’m here to make sure that students’ lives are well cared for. I also want to ensure that at the end of the day it’s not all about closing down CCAs, but that it will be a properly-reviewed process, and I’m happy to hold dialogues with students. That’s what I can promise.

It can be sometimes said that some RI students have become narrow-minded in the pursuit of excellence. What can we do to change this?

It would be silly to say that one or two simple assembly talks can change this. We have to address this through non-curricular means—a broad range that could include participation in activities like science research, Mathematics competitions, Raffles Players or uniform groups, just to name a few examples. They all contain elements of competition, whether as an individual or in a group, and there inevitably will be moments where we fail. These are the best opportunities to build up our resilience, and we can be taught to better cope with failure.

Another good way would be to work through the student leaders, like the CCA leaders, prefects and councillors. I’ve recently spoken to all the student leaders of the different CCAs to ask me, each, a question. I’ve already received over a hundred of questions and grouped them into various categories, and I would like to answer all these questions directly, so that I know what the students are concerned about.

I believe this is another very effective avenue that I can use to help change this mindset. It is not enough to just talk about it—the teachable moment will come afterwards, in a competition, when we fail or succeed. For me to individually reach out to the thousands of students in RI would hardly be feasible—I think that student leaders would be a more effective outlet. I understand that Mrs Lim used to have meetings with the student leaders, and I think such platforms would be a good platform for me to start.

Mr Chan: Up Close and Personal

Q: If not yourself, who would you be? A: I might be an actor.

Q: Cat person or dog person? A: None.

Q: Quote that you live your life by? A: Be happy.

Q: Favourite book? A: Persuasion by Jane Austen.

Q: Favourite movie? A: My most current one is Ilo Ilo – I just watched it.

Q: Science or Humanities? A: Humanities.

Q: Favourite memory of your student days? A: Boys Scouts.

Q: Favourite food and drink? A: Chicken and Oolong Tea.

Q: Natural talent you’d like to be gifted with? A: What if I think I’m gifted already? Having a very sharp or analytical mind.

Q: Where would you like to live? A: Anywhere that’s cold and nice – I call myself a polar bear.

Q: Your chief characteristic? A: Friendly.

Q: Idea of happiness? A: Be yourself – and don’t apologise for it.

Q: Idea of misery? A: Being totally misunderstood by everyone around you.

For the complete, unabridged version of this article (along with the full transcript of our interview with Mr. Chan), do pick up a copy of the Rafflesian Times #2 when it is published.

The following is a preview from the upcoming Issue #9 of the Rafflesian Times, slated for release next Monday.

The Rafflesian Times is Raffles Institution’s school magazine. It is jointly produced by CCA groups Raffles Publications and Raffles Press, together with the Raffles Institution Communications, Alumni Relations and Advancement Department. We serve up succulent stories on Rafflesians (and friends of RI) past and present.

In this issue:

What’s On Your Playlist?

By Abigail Ang (18S06B) and Jeslyn Tan (18S06R)

Last December we bade goodbye to Mr Chan Poh Meng and welcomed incoming principal Mr Frederick Yeo. Students representing Raffles Publications, the Prefectorial Board, Student Council and Raffles Press sat down with both principals to hear their views on where RI is today and where they see it heading in the near future.

Watch this space for a longer preview of this feature, to be published soon!

The Philosophy of Philosophy

By Shrey Bhargava (RI ’13)

Shrey Bhargava (RI’13) is an actor, host and filmmaker from Singapore. He is best known for playing Brando in Mediacorp Channel 5’s comedy series, Fine Tune (2016) and finishing Runner Up in Mediacorp’s competition, The 5 Search (2015). He is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA) in Acting at the University of Southern California, in Los Angeles. He has formally trained in Acting at Buds Youth Theatre, SRT’s Young Company, Acting and Hosting at the SAF Music & Drama Company, in Lee Strasberg’s Method and Acting for Camera at Haque Centre of Acting & Creativity and in Improvisation at The Improv Company.

As one of the pioneer batches of Raffles Programme students who went through the school’s Philosophy programme, Shrey shares about how the programme has touched or informed his life decisions since then.

René Descartes famously said ‘I think, therefore I am’. This cannot be truer. Who we are, what we believe in, how we behave and the resulting issues we face collectively as a society all boils down to how we think. How we think can be shaped by the study of Philosophy.

– Shrey Bhargava, “The Philosophy of Philosophy”

Pick up a copy of RT9 for all these articles and more, including musings on failure in RI, pre-university education in other countries and a special report on the Mount Vernon Columbarium and its connections to RI alumni.

By Chern Huan Yee (22S06A), Chung Thong En (22S06N) and Jason Sutio (22S06U) 

Travelling to Istana Park is relatively easy with its accessible location—directly next to exit B of the Dhoby Ghaut MRT station. Once you ascend the escalator and into the centre of the park, you will be greeted by a large Festival Arch and pool. To the left and right of the Arch is an Art Space and Heritage Gallery. However, these attractions are not where you can find the monarch of Istana Park eating.

Instead, this “king” resides in a more secluded, natural environment—a pond to the left of the arch.

The royal majesty graced us with his presence, immediately becoming the highlight of our visit. An energetic white-breasted waterhen, it ran and flew from one end to the other with poise and dignity as it searched for worms. When it found one, the worm dangled on its beak as if it was a  skinny moustache. After feeding, It would curiously monitor the perimeter of the pond, jumping and flying from one end to the other. The bed of water hyacinth and surrounding foliage was the kingdom; the bird stood at the top of the food chain. 

The king is only a king with citizens to rule. In the pond, scarlet dragonflies, frogs and fishes cohabit harmoniously (when not in feeding period). You may also find a silent and observant red-eared slider turtle hidden amidst the bushes.

Indeed, in Istana Park, you can observe the fascinating interactions of wildlife. In a modern city, green spaces that still maintain local fauna become increasingly difficult to find, especially lodged between high-risers and malls. Like the hidden turtle, Istana Park is a charming little park that sits preciously in between Plaza Singapura and Singapore Shopping Centre. 

However, the pond is not all that Istana Park offers—the aforementioned Festival Arch, the Heritage Museum, and the Art Space lie in the centre of the park. 

One of the most striking things you would notice while driving past Istana Park would be the giant metal pillared structure, the Festival Arch. Standing four stories tall, it towers above a calm pool of water, and is usually decorated with banners and flags around National Day. Walking close up and around the Arch, you can get a few more photogenic shots at odd angles.

In addition to nature, Istana Park also contains two buildings: the Istana Heritage Gallery, and My Art Space’s studio. As we had the unfortunate timing of visiting the park over the Labour Day holiday, neither were open; however, just from looking through the glass doors, the allure of the various exhibits was clear. 

The Istana Heritage Gallery is what it says on the tin: a gallery documenting the history of the Istana across the road, from its roots as the British Colonial Governor’s House to becoming the official residence of the President in independent Singapore. According to the official website, some of the exhibits include various gifts to Singapore’s Presidents and Prime Ministers and ‘other state artefacts’. 

Admission is free and guided tours are offered. However, visits to the Gallery have to be arranged beforehand with the relevant authorities. Otherwise, curious students who may not have the time, energy or trusted adults to do all the liaising beforehand can just stand at the glass doors and admire the exhibits from afar.

Also decorating the landscape was the My Art Space studio. A Singaporean art club conducting various workshops, its main base of operations was the Istana Park studio where people can express their artistic desires. Again, you will need to book a visit in order to enter the studio. (That being said, standing outside to look at the dazzling array of works is free, though rather dubious-looking.)

Walking around the park will also lead you to various Instagrammable spots. For example, a hidden back path had an almost fantastical feel to it, framed by hanging roots and lush green leaves. 

As you exit the park and head towards Dhoby Ghaut Station’s Exit B, you can pass by a few swings, wet from the morning dew (and probably bird droppings). There were many birds there, including the ever-common pigeons and crows, but unfortunately not His Majesty the waterhen. Even then, a couple of families pushing strollers milled about, relaxing and taking in the fresh air. 

Despite its small size, Istana Park has many great things to see. It is a hidden gem unfortunately overshadowed by its affiliated building. Just remember to prepare accordingly (read: prepare mosquito repellant, sunshade and book your special visits), and you could easily spend an entire morning or afternoon enjoying the sights in this 1.3 hectare large park.

By Chern Huan Yee (22S06A), Chung Thong En (22S06N) and Jason Sutio (22S06U) 

Ann Siang Hill and its neighbouring Telok Ayer Green Park allow you to take a breather from the stresses of the future… by escaping to the past.

The Chinatown-Telok Ayer area might be more well-known for its markets and food, but you should not miss the two parks it contains that preserve the old Singapore in the middle of urban development.

The first of the parks, the aptly-named Ann Siang Hill park, is built on the last hill of Telok Ayer still standing—the hill escaped from being levelled for land reclamation efforts in the 1800s, and eventually came to house the park. 

Upon entry, we were first greeted with a crossroads (shown above in red arrows). Taking the path of the leftmost arrow first, the first thing that caught our eye was the wall art.

The metal structures jutting out from the wall depicted stories of early immigrants who once lived in the houses surrounding us, which added meaningful depth to the buildings we were looking at. Beyond that, the area was left preserved as it was, showing only the backs of the old houses, allowing us to focus on the artwork.

Progressing further and nearing the end of this stretch of the road, we saw the Chinese Weekly Entertainment Club. This club started operations over a century ago, and is apparently still going today. Regrettably, it was private property and we were not allowed to go in.

From there, we doubled back to go down the other path of the crossroads. This path winds through the park’s main trail, featuring a roofed brick walkway that eventually leads to a spiral staircase going downwards.

Along the way, we appreciated the view from the hill—which consisted mainly of conserved houses and AC boxes. There was, however, an interesting architectural juxtaposition with the older shophouses in the foreground and more modern buildings in the background.

The staircase eventually brought us to the foot of the hill, where we found Singapore’s last water well. 

This well served as a precious fresh water source during the 1800s for the traders and residents of Chinatown. They would draw their water supply from the wells at the hill and take it home in ox-drawn carts. 

By now, the well is a century old, fitted with a protective cover. Water is still visible deep down in the hole, though now obscured with plants that have grown through its long history. 

After looking into the well and reading the history on its placard, we began to head to our next destination, visible also on the map —Telok Ayer Green. 

Telok Ayer Green

Our next destination was just a few minutes away, across the road. Or so Google Maps said; we almost got lost on our way there, walking through the busy, winding street. Eventually, we arrived across the street from Thian Hock Keng Temple. Tourists were milling about, as were a few cyclists resting before the next leg of their journey. All of us alike took a few seconds to admire the beautiful mural spread across the wall.

Telok Ayer Green was right next door. Some would recognise it as the location used in filming Raffles Got Talent. One glance was all we needed to take in the entirety of the small park, statues, water and all. 

Each statue in the park depicts a snapshot of the life of our ancestors in colonial history, from a Chinese street procession to a transaction between Indian settlers. Fallen leaves crunched under our feet as we passed through the quiet park. 

The park was simple, but sometimes that is all you need for a quick rest. You even get a free (admittedly niche) history lesson to boot. After the long walk up and down Ann Siang Hill, we enjoyed the opportunity to catch our breath.

The Telok Ayer and Chinatown area as a whole is teeming with historical significance, from the shophouses to the temples and museums. A stroll through the bustling streets is bound to give you some insight into the everyday hustle of the immigrants living in the area during Singapore’s colonial history. The historic town has far more to show besides the pockets of nature we visited, through its buildings and murals. 

If one does not mind crowds and sweltering heat, and wants to step into Singapore’s history, come to Telok Ayer.