How Singaporeans legitimise a Reserved Election they rejected?
So it seems that the dust has settled for now.
Only weeks ago, the indignation felt by many Singaporeans — over a Malays-only Reserved Election that technically never happened — reverberated in waves of angry comments on social media but gradually dissipated as normalcy resumes.
Former Speaker of Parliament Halimah Yacob did a walkover to become President of the state — never mind that the two other hopefuls have more financial experiences to look after the country’s reserves than she does. We protested for a little while and then it’s back to our own businesses. The Singapore Grand Prix was held on the Sunday of that unhappy week and a spectacular accident occurred. For a while, a mishap involving some speed machines was all that matters than to groan over our democratic processes which may have hit a nadir.
By the following week, we were moving on with relative ease, or as one observer sees it — retreating into our apathy mode. After all, there is perhaps little reason to care about something which we feel powerless to challenge or effect a change.
We would not find solace in apathy without first grieving too often for repeatedly failing and being failed. Still, between this sentiment and its alternative, legitimisation of the Reserved Election would have to be the less desirable latter. It is essentially that compliant instinct in us to accept, approve and even participate in the process and outcome, be it out of gladness, delusion or simply resignation.
A classic display of the popular legitimisation of Mdm. Yacob’s presidency arrived close to her doorstep literally as throngs of enthusiastic residents cheered at her presence. This is the new President who knows well to connect with the people, by living among them in her Yishun flat — despite, of course, security concerns.
And then there are the detractors who would stand by and shake their heads. They sneer at the spectacle and question the sincerity of the so-called well-wishers. Maybe these people did not really approve the Reserved Election until she won, they wonder. They pat themselves on the back, consoled with the fact that at least, they did not legitimise a public figure who came into office through a lambasted system.
Though, alas, the detractors too were doing it before they know it. It started with one argument and many more.
Hardly anyone is to be blamed because even presidential hot favourite Dr. Tan Cheng Bock took the bait. When the ex-PAP politician launched a legal challenge against the Reserved Election’s happening based on the alleged unconstitutional counting of presidential terms that triggered it, he unknowingly fell into the trap of being in favour of its implementation — only if it fulfils requirements in an acceptable manner.
A debate like that is a paradox, which is also difficult to ignore. As potent and attractive it is for the election’s opponents, arguing how the presidential terms should be counted in order to call for a reserved election drastically blurs the line between total rejection of the election and rejection “unless certain conditions are met.” Our protest is nullified when we decide otherwise that the election could still proceed if it is carried out fairly and in good taste.
In all fairness, Dr. Tan’s case probably affords him a little more latitude to dispute the credibility of the Reserved Election. Yet, at some point, the line has to be drawn and perhaps right there. Any more arguments against the specifics, rather than the overall concept, only render our opposition murkier. While we think we are against the idea, we have in fact legitimised it by accommodating it, hoping that, at least, it is properly executed.
This slide down the slippery slope of legitimisation continued with intensifying debates. The more we contend, the more it resembles a dissent against how the Reserved Election is conducted, rather than a pillory of its ideological entirety vis-à-vis meritocratic principles.
Inevitably, with race as the central theme of the election, the debate produced some egregious criticisms.
It’s without doubt that President Halimah Yacob hails from a mixed parentage of an Indian father and a Malay mother, but how does that make her more Indian or Malay in certain aspects? All of a sudden, what seems straightforward for race and ethnicity to be determined by skin colour and language, respectively, is not so after all.
Unfortunately, it is the fatal flaw of the Reserved Election to consider race and ethnicity as criteria in the first place — and so much about wanting to advance society to become more colour-blind.
As if the complexities are not sufficient to caution the government, a can of worms was opened and rapidly devolved into a red herring. The public on social media was soon debating whether Yacob qualifies to be an election candidate, on the blood basis of her late Indian father. The argument got so vicious that some netizens slammed the 63-year old for denying her roots out of expedience.
Questioning a candidate’s race and ethnicity should never be our response, however debatable it is. If you are firmly opposed to the concept of a Reserved Election regardless it provisions, being drawn into such an argument must not occur, no matter the ‘Malayness’ or ‘Indianess’ of the person to qualify. To challenge the candidate’s satisfaction of the racial criteria is, in a way, awkwardly and obliviously endorsing the mechanism.
Understandably, and for accountability’s sake, shouldn’t the conundrums around Yacob’s ethnicity be brought to light?
The same could be said of the professional experience of Yacob — who is after all qualified by fulfilling the minimum number of years for public office service while the other candidates fail to meet the S$500 million criteria of shareholder equity of companies they manage; although they would have been more financially seasoned to look after government reserves. What good would silence have done if we do not acknowledge what was amiss or went wrong?
On the other hand, to demand Yacob’s onus to abide by the qualifying requirements is our double-edged sword: we encourage accountability on her part but have grudgingly accepted the materialisation of an election we could not prevent — this is our unintended legitimisation.
It is more evident of legitimisation when we are left fuming over the ease Yacob had in clinching the presidency and bemoaning the loss of our right to consider or vote other persons, besides Yacob. Because, if you truly do not believe the rationality of the Reserved Election, then voting any of the candidates simply does not resonate with that sentiment. This is why a spoilt vote is one of most appropriate forms of protest against a system you could not place your faith in.
In the final act of legitimisation, some unhappy folks had conciliated themselves with the election of new President, bearing with the consolation that Singapore now has its first Malay President in as many decades as well as its first female Head of State.
Don’t get me wrong; Halimah Yacob is technically and legally my President whom I will recognise. I’m no fan of adopting the #notmypresident hashtag due to its juvenile ignorance but Yacob is just not the President I’m proud of. The reputation of the officeholder should be as credible as the process that gets her elected — and Yacob is conveniently made President with the help of raised criteria disqualifying other candidates and more notably, the quasi-discriminatory refusal to admit people of other races to participate in the election.
If the election cannot be open to welcome a bigger pool of capable individuals — from all races — to run for office, how would it have made Yacob the most worthy of all the hopefuls to become President — other than the fact she is willing to do good for the people?
With a system so erroneous in its methodology and beliefs, it is hard to perceive the Yacob presidency as a proud milestone for Singapore women and the Malay community. Putting it bluntly, the glass ceiling has not really been shattered; it is simply raised. Our unhappiness with the Reserved Election thus has to avoid being invalidated by a consolation, which is never the societal progress we hope to be. Let something that contravenes principles not be any more rewarded with a legitimisation it does not deserve.
For if we are only more mindful of the details instead of the notion, the message we are sending to the authorities is not that the Reserved Election is the wrong thing to do.
On the contrary, they are likely to think how they could do it better the next time.
