How an abstinence-only Sex Ed has made us a laughing stock

When I read the following piece of news on my iPad on the train ride back from school, I almost guffawed.

SINGAPORE – Singaporeans aged between 20 and 35 are still clueless about contraception, if the findings of a global survey are anything to go by.

The World Contraception Day 2011 survey – which was conducted online last month – was sponsored by Bayer Healthcare and supported by an alliance of 10 international organisations involved in sexual health, including the Asia Pacific Council of Contraception (APCOC).

Seeing Freud and social mobility in Swan Lake

Caught Swan Lake on Ice by the Imperial Ice Stars troupe at Marina Bay Sands Grand Theater on Saturday evening with Stel and Mark. This was my first time catching a theatrical production of Swan Lake. I had high hopes for this critically-acclaimed work of art, and I am glad to say I was not disappointed.

That said, Swan Lake is a tale of love and betrayal, the oldest story in the book and yet one that never gets old. After all, at least once in his life, any hotblooded male would have to contend with his overbearing mother, two young lasses vying for his attention and an evil asshole who somehow still wants to be his father-in-law. As a social science student, I find that there’s a great deal of relevance in Swan Lake with what I learned, so I’m gonna touch on a couple;

Voting, a second time

It was awesome to be able to vote once more, for the second time within a year. Yesterday, Singaporeans went to the polls to vote for our head of state, the President of the Republic of Singapore, for the first time since 1993. There has been a higher turnout as compared to the GE, with 94.65% of 2,274,773 registered electors voting. As the counting and recount took place and went past midnight, all eyes are on the door in the elections department for the famed Mr. Yam Ah Mee to officially announce the final tally, and as to whether the nation would have to held in further suspense for the overseas votes to be taken into account.

Dr. Tony Tan Keng Yam will be our seventh president, and he will be sworn in on 1st September 2011. With that, Singapore will look forward to her 3rd elected president.

With a 4-way contest taking place so soon after the GE, this presidential election was highly politically-charged, with many using the support for Dr. Tony Tan, who had the support of the establishment, as a test of the electorate’s support for the government. Like the GE, emotions ran high and many saw, once more, the darker sides of Singaporeans during this period.

Contrary to calls for a dignified contest befitting of the highest office in the land, we witnessed moments of jeering, name-calling and personal attacks.

We see instances when we segregate our fellow Singaporeans by their personal choices, and denounce those whom think differently from us.

In one breath we sang praises of democracy and in another deny others the right to voice out against us.

Given the vote-share, I know that there will be many who will not easily take the results of this presidential elections. We will see many who would simplistically partition the people of Singapore into percentages and demeaning labels which sole purpose is only to further divide us; ‘pro-foreigner’, ‘anti-Singaporean’, ‘daft’, ‘pro-pappies’…the list goes on and on. We will see baseless allegations of conspiracy in attempts to invalidate the results. We might even see people who no longer afford the presidency the respect it rightfully deserves as the embodiment of our state.

I have my own personal views too. I have my own views about what kind of president we shall have, what he can do or how he should look like (mind you, we will have to stare at his portrait in the halls of power). I have, like many others, a pretty clear idea of who I do not want as my president.

My own views will shape my own control of the pen at the poll booth. I may persuade you to my point of view but ultimately, I should and will respect the candidate you voted for, whoever he may be. What makes one’s own views any more wrong than another’s?

It is periods like this which divide. It is afterward, whether we unite or divide further, that truly determine how successful we are as a nation.

Playing the Politics of Antagonism

One of my best friends (let’s call him MT for the purposes of this piece) is a relatively mild-mannered guy. Politics is not his usual cup of tea, but if he’s expressed any kind of political opinion, it tends to be skeptical of any form of establishment. He’s born and bred in Singapore, but was only able to obtain his Singaporean citizenship recently upon completion of his National Service, as his parents were Malaysians who migrated to Singapore and obtained permanent residency. Living in Aljunied GRC, he had a choice between PAP and WP in the recent GE. It would not be easy to pinpoint how he would vote, but my bet would have been on WP, but only taking account the general sentiment of youths my age.

So, I was slightly surprised when I found out, through another friend who went around asking his peers about their voting patterns (something I don’t necessarily condone), that MT readily disclosed he had voted PAP.

Critique: TOC’s article on religion in Singapore politics

The Online Citizen (TOC) posted an article (possibly contributed by one of its readers) titled “Religion creeping into Singapore politics?” on its website on Friday, 3 June 2011. Within the weekend, it was taken down and coincidentally, an article reminding readers of its moderation policy was put up. Interestingly, it highlighted that comments ‘(verging) on the defamatory and certain allegations made against particular persons’ had been posted.

In the midst of it, a reminder of home

Together with 11 other SMU students, I spent a couple of weeks helping run a 2-week summer camp for a group of 88 kids in a school in this little village called Fenghuangshan (凤凰山乡), located in the Qinglong Manchu Autonomous County of Hebei Province, China. Of my various trips to China, I had yet to do any form of community service there, so I felt it would be a refreshing change to spend a couple of weeks over in a part of China I had never been to.

Majulah!

National Day means different things for every Singaporean.

For many, it is an excellent opportunity to enjoy another public holiday. Take some time off to go and do some of the things they have been wanting to do for a long time but couldn’t due to the hectic city life.

For some, it is to stage a magnificent show for the country and the world to see, after months of preparation. A spectacular display to unite the country as we hum the old tunes which still resonate with every Singaporean.

For some, it is a moment for quiet reflection, to take stock of what the country has done thus far and should do in the years to come.

Creative Evil

I wrote the following paper for my individual assignment in Introductory Psychology.

Prisoners at forced labor building airplane parts at the Siemens factory in the Bobrek labor camp, a sub-camp of Auschwitz.

In the field of psychology, two experiments have stood out as testament to the horrifying reality that ‘normal’ and healthy humans are as capable of evil acts as the entire Nazi regime did; Stanley Milgram’s obedience experiment and Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison (SPE). Both experiments demonstrated that under oppressive conditions, law-abiding citizens may be transformed into obedient executors and, in Zimbardo’s case, innovative creators of evil acts directed by a figure of authority. The progression in the study of the psychology of evil has led to greater understanding about why groups like the Nazis, Communists or racists commit such despicable acts. While there has been much research done on human capability for evil, less focus has been placed on where and why does evil, in the creative sense, originate. In other words, what motivates the metaphorical man in the white coat in Milgram’s experiment? Was it merely anti-Semitism that motivated Adolf Hitler to embark on the Final Solution? Where did Pol Pot cross the line from leading an anti-colonialist struggle to engineering the genocide of his own people? This paper examines some of the existing literature to better understand the underlying causes for the behavior of people who have demonstrated and exercised their capacity for creative evil.

What Katsuki-kun taught me

This was a cute little fabric button of the Japanese flag distributed to the volunteers.

My Sunday afternoon was spent helping run a one-day workshop as part of my participation in the Japanese Cultural Club. The workshop was organized as part of the 3rd International Children’s Art Exchange (ICAE) which took place from 20 to 23 May. It was held for a group of five kids from Shakuji Gakuen, aged between 10 and 12, a small group of Japanese kids from the expatriate community in Singapore, and a relatively large group of Singaporean kids.

The workshop comprises of a culinary session when the kids got a hands-on experience making curry, an art and craft activity of the retelling of the Urashima Tarō legend, and a games-sharing segment when Japanese and Singaporeans each introduced and shared their respective childhood games.

The Japanese kids were extremely likeable and polite to a fault. Despite my language gap, one of them, a 12-year-old boy named Katsuki, took a liking to me almost instantly and volunteered to be in the group I was taking care of. There was one young boy (who looks awfully like Kenichi Matsuyama) who was very excited at seeing us Singaporeans try out the kendama, and his adorable cries of ‘sugei!’ when we caught the ball even with the wrong technique. The Japanese expats were also equally polite, and I was able to rely on one in my group as a translator with Katsuki-kun.

The Singaporean kids were another thing altogether. While many of them were rather well-behaved, some were a real handful. For instance, in my group, there was a boy who spent more time provoking the other group members than helping out in the art and craft activity, and was deliberately disrupting the games session. There was also another kid who jealously guarded the curry section like his own, berating the other kids for doing it wrongly even as I encouraged them to have a go.

Still, the fault does not lie entirely with the children. While it’s fair to say that psychological research have found that temperament is genetic and may be difficult to change, much input still comes from the environment in which children grew up in. Needless to say, family is important, but the real question is what kind of environment is the child’s family providing?

I do think culture plays an important role. It would not be an over-generalization to say that, in Singapore, it is a lot easier to find a family at a dinner table engrossed in their own iPhones than one engaging in dinner conversation. Despite their amazing advancements in mobile phone technology, I had yet to find a Japanese family doing the same when I was over at Japan (mind you, I was off the beaten track).

Which brings me back to the children. I was amazed at how polite Katsuki-kun remained even as a Singaporean girl rudely mocked his speaking Japanese in a manner not unlike Alexandra Wallace. Even as I was furiously reminding the girl to be respectful of other cultures, Katsuki-kun was profusely seeking her understanding.

Yes, we may not be Japanese. It does not change the fact that there are indeed some things we can learn from them. We cannot be as arrogant as to believe the values we were brought up on are cast in stone and worth defending against all reason. Too many times have I heard the ‘infallible excuse’ of “It’s okay for me to complain; I’m Singaporean!” or the belief that we are deserving of superior treatment to foreigners. We have to be better than that. We can learn the value of humility in the face of intolerance, or bravery in the face of adversity.

Katsuki-kun has certainly taught me that.

NewsBite: National Serviced

by Phin Wong, 4 September 2010

I personally enjoyed the following article a lot, back when it was first published in September 2010. I identified with it a lot and defended the piece when many slammed the author for not having undergone the ‘true National Service’. It generated, from what I observed, the highest number of comments for a column piece in TODAYonline.

I had to search long and hard to find a photo of a clerk at work. And I only knew about this one 'cos I personally helped my former superior arrange it in Army News.

A whole lot of guys out there will be thanked for their contributions to Singapore with a pile of cash poured into their CPF accounts, thanks to the National Service Recognition Award announced this week.

But, as the papers have been reporting, it is not about the money — it’s the symbol of appreciation and gratitude to our National Servicemen that matters.

It’s a nice gesture but, really, it’s us guys who have so much to thank National Service for.

And I’m not even talking about the obvious benefits like learning discipline, honour and national pride; or even the acquisition of skills necessary to protect our country like building little bridges, standing at attention in a really straight line for long periods of time, or running up hills to blow stuff up.

I’m talking about the life lessons you don’t find in the brochure — the things that make a mother proud. Like good housekeeping.

“The army will be good for you,” my mother said to me in the car on enlistment day all those years ago, spotting my sulk in the backseat through the rearview mirror. “It’ll make you a man.”

Then, rather inexplicably, she added: “And you’ll learn how to make your bed.”

I know I wasn’t valedictorian or anything but I couldn’t help but feel she was aiming a little low for her son. Sure, “Prime Minister” was out, but wasn’t “chambermaid” a little premature?

Nonetheless, mother, as always, was right. I did indeed learn how to make my bed. And it only took two-and-a-half years.

I wasn’t an officer or anything worth celebrating with a parade, but I’ve always envisioned my mother sitting in the bleachers for me, and when I marched on by, she’d wipe a proud tear from her eye, turning to the person next to her to say: “That’s my boy — the best blanket folder in his battalion!”

My time in the army wasn’t quite the usual experience that’s doled out, seeing as I was a sick boy. The guys in my PES C9 unit all wore nametags on our uniforms — not to introduce ourselves politely but to advertise a laundry list of activities that might crush our frail bodies.

Mine said I was excused from running, jumping, push-ups, sit-ups, swimming, and a host of other things that military recruits and healthy 12-year-old girls should have no problem doing. We were, as my warrant officer referred to us, the “fragile ones”.

While other bald teenage boys exchanged stories about bayonet fighting and strange adventures in something called 5BX — which I imagined had something to do with top secret mountain biking — we swapped medical predicaments.

“What are you in for?” one would ask.

“Asthma, flat feet, spinal deformity,” the other would answer. “You?”

“Collapsed lung.”

“Ah,” he’d nod. “Want an Oreo?”

But just because we were fragile, it didn’t mean we didn’t have that famed male-bonding experience everyone talks about. It’s true that you meet all kinds in the army, and that everyone is really good to each other.

Like the insecure 17-year-old kid in my unit who overcompensated with aggression and occasional violence — he was a smiling, well-adjusted (well, comparatively) individual by the end of BMT, after the guys had shown him that he didn’t have to be a badass to impress anyone.

Or the dancer who became a much nicer person after he realised no one was judging his predilection for a good kick-ball-change routine.

Or the nice dude who came up to me for a lovely chat one day at the rifle range when I was scribbling in my notebook — this was during my poncy pseudo poet days — while waiting my turn to channel Tom Selleck in Quigley Down Under.

Nice dude: Hello.

Me: Hi.

Nice dude: Eh, I see you every day, you write and write and write. You write what, ah? Words, ah?

Me: (Uncomfortable pause) Erm. Yes.

Nice dude: Wah … You want Kit Kat?

Even I helped out. I told my buddy that after cleaning the inside of his rifle the way we were taught, he really should clean the outside of his rifle, too, if he didn’t want to have zits — particularly the part of the M16 where you have to press your cheek against to aim. Goodness knows where those things have been. Then I offered him a scented wet wipe. Our rifles smelled delightfully like baby powder.

Priceless memories, lucrative cleaning skills and enough material for a bad sitcom. Maybe I could call it “5BX: Secret Agent Mountain Bikers From Mars”. It would be like Charlie’s Angels meets NCIS meets ‘Allo ‘Allo meets Alf. Thank you, National Service.

And if the sitcom thing works out, maybe I’ll send the nice dude some writing of words.

- TODAYonline