Those who voted against the PAP in GE2015, or wanted to do so, would have had the following reasons for doing it.
Elitist public image, ineffective public communications
The PAP’s public image has become increasingly elitist. In the social media age, their elite behaviour and inability to communicate with ordinary Singaporeans without making terrible faux pas have become widely observed and criticized (Loh, 2013; M.S. Goh, 2015).
The party began with social democratic roots that took the egalitarian aspects of meritocracy as seriously as the more capitalistic values of competitiveness, incentive, and reward that eventually came to dominate its worldview. In the 1990s, Singapore became more deeply embedded in globalization and embraced more fully the private-sector values of ‘new public management’ (NPM). During this time, meritocracy was transforming into a vulgar form of elitism, where a highly-paid and exulted leadership, no longer representative of the range of socio-economic backgrounds in Singapore, made policies that were technically proficient, yet unresponsive to the expressed concerns of the common people (Balji, 2013). NPM meant giving the people a high-quality customer experience when they received government services, but not necessarily taking their input as citizens seriously. Widening inequalities of income and wealth exacerbated the perception that the PAP, a party for the elite, the rich, and foreigners, was interested only in perpetuating itself and its rewards. In reaction, a mass politics of disengagement, mistrust, and envy was fast emerging (Wembridge, 2015).
The PAP government’s record of successfully developing Singapore from ‘Third World to First’ in a short span of half a century has engendered paternalistic arrogance, an inflated sense of superiority and self-importance, and a dismissive attitude towards quotidian experiences that matter to people (Khoo, 2015). With lifestyles, values, and worldviews that seemed generally to be those of the elite, PAP leaders often showed themselves to be out of touch with the ground, dismissing popular emotions and ordinary experience as irrelevant or simply wrong (ashwini, 2015; Chin, 2015). To ordinary Singaporeans, several PAP candidates lacked empathy and emotional intelligence (Chang, 2013).
Singaporeans reacted critically to what they considered to be callous and insensitive comments made in public by the PAP elite, including a reference to ‘natural aristocracy’ made at a high-profile conference (Xu, 2015); an observation posted online that senior citizens who were out on the streets collecting cardboard to earn some money were actually doing this for exercise (Palatino, 2015); and, in response to a parliamentary question about Singaporeans on public assistance, the retort: ‘How much do you want? Do you want three meals in a hawker centre, food court or restaurant?’ (Loh, 2010). Through social media, netizens showed their displeasure, compiled lists of follies, and circulated them online (‘Infamous quotes’, 2015). Even though several opposition candidates had also been caught making gaffes in public (Wee, 2015), they were not readily viewed in the light of elitism. While it is unlikely that any of the PAP politicians intended to be insulting or derogatory, their words and actions were read as a reflection of the true feelings of the elite.
Those who attempted to connect with ordinary Singaporeans by sounding folksy, presumably to dispel the image of being out of touch, ended up sounding condescending, insincere, and inauthentic (Chang, 2013). When a junior minister tried to discredit a charismatic veteran opposition politician by mocking his actions through sarcasm and a grating use of colloquial expressions, her efforts fell flat and made her the subject of popular derision (Yap, 2015). One very senior minister peppered his speeches with folksy analogies that were sometimes ironic: when he compared the opposition to the rooster that took credit for the sun’s rising, he may not have realized how the audience might have compared that to the PAP’s taking wholesale credit for Singapore’s success (P. Lee, 2015). PAP politicians were also mocked and criticized for other reasons. A rookie candidate thumped his chest like a jubilant gladiator as his team addressed the public on nomination day. A veteran politician made an off-colour joke about how fortunate he was that his father had left China for Singapore and that Singapore had separated from Malaysia, or else, he said with exaggerated relief, he might still be a Chinese or Malaysian citizen (‘Lim Swee Say criticized’, 2015). An MP posted on his Facebook page so many selfies that they bordered on self-promotional narcissism (Cheong, 2015).
These individually unsuccessful attempts to connect with the ground may also be a symptom of a broadly superficial and inauthentic approach to public engagement. To a technocratic government that views the world through a dehumanizing lens of hard data and technical analysis, unable to acknowledge the value of emotions and other intangibles in the hard business of policymaking and leadership, public engagement was understood to be public education and – especially in the social media age – image management and public relations. Facts and figures were used to dismiss popular concerns and emotions. Only the PAP establishment were privileged to determine what the facts were and how they should be interpreted. Furthermore, the government has not been very open to the public when it comes to information, data, and statistics (Biswas and Hartley, 2015).
Some PAP politicians, especially during election campaigns and public debates, often treated their adversaries with little respect, engaging them in a humiliating and bullying style. As illustrated in Chapter 4, they made ad hominem arguments to ridicule their opponents instead of debating issues and principles. They showed an inability to listen and converse, always wanting to win an argument, cut people off, and have the last word. They were unable to admit their mistakes or that their opponent may have a good point. Their logic was ‘either/or’ and ‘all-or-nothing’, which made it difficult for them to compromise or collaborate.
Several PAP politicians have come down hard on their opponents, especially during election campaigns, with the media compliantly reinforcing and augmenting the censure. For instance, one minister after another attacked the WP for mismanagement of the town council under its care, thus preventing the short nine-day campaign period from being used as a platform for discussing the WP manifesto. The PAP establishment continues to use lawsuits to deal with its critics, an approach that suffuses the public sphere with a cloud of anxiety that, alongside a culture of political apathy, constrains citizen participation in its fullest sense. All of this could be off-putting to voters, some of whom might have viewed it as bullying and lacking a sense of fair play. Their sympathies lay with the underdog.
From pragmatism to ideological fixation
Some voters associated PAP government policies with an obsessive economic growth agenda that did not pay enough attention to other primary goals for the nation such as equity, cultural flourishing, or human well-being. As argued in Chapter 3, what the government often celebrated as its brand of pragmatism turned out to be indistinguishable from a kind of market fundamentalism, where the unquestioned and unquestionable goal was economic growth, while the means for achieving it rarely strayed beyond the neoliberal capitalist range of policy options. Some voters have become concerned about the way that such policies have threatened Singapore’s cultural, architectural, and natural heritage, sense of place, and national identity. This concern was especially lifted by the wave of nostalgia generated by the nation’s 50th anniversary celebrations, which are discussed in Chapter 8. To these voters, the basis of the PAP’s authority had become excessively transactional and lacked the heroism, vision, broadmindedness, and inspiration of transformational leadership (Johannis, 2015).
Some voters also noted how neoliberal market fundamentalism and an obsession with growth ignored the fact that there had not been the kind of trickle-down effect that the government had promised would benefit more Singaporeans. The sense of a widening income gap and a wealth gap was palpable at the day-to-day level, as densely populated Singapore with its banking and wealth management system made itself more attractive to the global super-rich. In the meantime, the government’s resistance to a more comprehensive social welfare system (beyond workfare schemes and constant urging to upgrade and up-skill) and policies like minimum wage, made it unpopular among voters who have seen or were themselves experiencing the problems of poverty (including the aged poor) and high cost of living and doing business (‘The stingy nanny’, 2010). The neoliberal capitalist economy also demanded a liberal immigration policy, as discussed in Chapter 6, perceived by many voters as the PAP government’s folly, which placed foreigners first and Singaporeans second.
The next two chapters show how decades of successful government, mostly admired by a citizenry grateful for its broad tangible benefits, have also reinforced a sense of self-importance among the elite, transforming a pragmatically adaptive outlook into a dogmatic, risk-averse adherence to outmoded success formulas, even as circumstances change.