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Singaporean voters and the ‘Battered Wife Syndrome’

Opinion: Singaporean voters, much like an abused spouse, remain trapped in a cycle of political dependence and fear. Clinging to the memory of a once-transformative party, they endure empty promises, fearing chaos without the People’s Action Party despite viable alternatives.

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2 weeks ago

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In every election, a significant portion of Singaporean voters return to the ballot box and, with a trembling hand, check the box for the People’s Action Party (PAP).

It’s a ritual that has been repeated for decades, much like the pattern seen in those suffering from Battered Woman Syndrome, a psychological condition identified as a type of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

Coined by psychologist Lenore Walker, EdD, in her groundbreaking 1979 book The Battered Woman, this syndrome explains the psychological effects of living with prolonged trauma, particularly intimate partner violence.

While not classified as a mental illness itself, the syndrome often leads to PTSD, which is considered a mental illness. The cycle of abuse involves tension building, violent outbursts, apologies, promises to change, and the inevitable return to violence—a vicious cycle of control, manipulation, and fear.

The comparison may seem stark, but it bears relevance to the political experience of many Singaporeans. Like those suffering from Battered Woman Syndrome, they remain trapped in a cycle of political dependence, clinging to the hope that things might one day change.

Yet, election after election, they find themselves voting for the PAP, a party that bears little resemblance to the one that once led Singapore to prosperity.

The PAP of the past, under the leadership of the late Lee Kuan Yew and his contemporaries, was a transformative force.

This generation brought post-independence Singapore from a colonial port city to a global economic powerhouse, earning its citizens’ trust and loyalty. However, those leaders are long gone, and the party today operates in a very different context, with a new set of leaders, policies, and priorities.

As Lee Kuan Yew’s younger son, Lee Hsien Yang, once said, “Today’s PAP is no longer the PAP of my father. It has lost its way.”

Yet, like someone suffering from Battered Woman Syndrome, many Singaporeans continue to vote for the PAP, holding on to the memory of a party that no longer exists. They cling to the hope that this time, things might be different—that the promises made will be kept, and the “abuses” will stop.

But election after election, the reality hits hard: the promises to improve lives and provide support during challenging times remain unfulfilled, especially as the cost of living escalates and homeownership and retirement concerns grow due to policies like tax hikes—only temporarily relieved by measures (carrots) such as GST and CDC vouchers, which some see as a euphemism for food stamps. The relationship between the people and the party remains toxic, and in some ways, worsens over time.

In this analogy, the “abuse” is not physical but political and emotional. It manifests in the erosion of freedoms, the lack of genuine political competition, and the paternalistic attitude that suggests Singaporeans cannot be trusted to make decisions for themselves.

The cycle of control mirrors Walker’s description of Battered Woman Syndrome: tension builds, dissatisfaction grows, and yet, the same promises are made over and over with no real change.

Many voters, much like those trapped in abusive relationships, have been conditioned to believe that without the PAP, the country would fall into chaos, that their livelihoods would be at risk, and that alternatives are too dangerous or incompetent to consider.

This is where the PAP’s control turns into coercive control—a key feature of Battered Woman Syndrome. The party retains control over public discourse, media narratives, and financial policies, limiting the scope for political alternatives and isolating citizens from opposing viewpoints.

The manipulation doesn’t stop at control; it extends to gaslighting as well.

Like an abusive partner, the PAP continues to undermine its “spouse’s” confidence, telling Singaporeans that they are nothing without the party—creating crises through policies and media control, all while using taxpayers’ money to maintain that grip.

The party insists that only the PAP is qualified to govern while portraying those who offer a different vision for the country as untrustworthy or incompetent, even when evidence suggests otherwise. Much like an abuser convincing their partner that they are incapable of surviving alone, the PAP perpetuates the myth that Singapore would crumble without its leadership, despite having a world-class civil service capable of running on its own.

This gaslighting leaves many voters doubting their own judgment.

But here’s the truth that so many fail to see: Singapore, much like someone suffering from Battered Woman Syndrome, has options.

There are opposition parties that offer different visions for the country, leaders who are ready to step up and serve with integrity. However, even when presented with viable alternatives—opposition parties with clear policies and capable leaders—Singaporeans continue to cling to the familiar, fearful of the unknown.

The continued loyalty to the PAP, despite the abuses, is not a sign of strength or wisdom but of fear and conditioning—an unhealthy relationship where the victim has been made to believe they cannot survive on their own.

A key element in this perceived manipulation is the role of state media, such as Straits Times and Channel News Asia, which is heavily funded by taxpayers’ money—directly and indirectly.

For instance, the recent allocation of S$900 million to SPH Media Trust has raised concerns among some observers who view it as an extension of the ruling party’s influence over public discourse.

While the government has justified this funding as necessary to support media outreach and improve journalistic quality, critics argue that such funding can blur the lines for media outlets and raise concerns about potential bias. This can leave citizens unsure of what to trust, making it difficult to distinguish between factual reporting, opinion, or sheer propaganda.

Furthermore, it appears that the alienation of independent media voices may be another tactic used to maintain control.

The Online Citizen (TOC) was effectively forced out of Singapore after being required to reveal the details of its subscribers, and its financial lifelines were impacted by declarations of POFMA Declared Online Locations—possibly as part of an effort to silence independent voices that challenge the government and fact-check the narratives pushed by state-controlled media.

These actions would appear as attempts to remove dissenting opinions and limit the public’s access to alternative perspectives, seeking to reinforce the perception that the PAP is the only viable option, casting doubt on opposition parties and alternative views.

In any case, the public is left with little room to critically evaluate the realities of governance as state-controlled media continues to frame dissent as dangerous or uninformed.

Holding on to a past that no longer exists only perpetuates the suffering.

It’s time for voters to take a hard look at their options, especially in light of the upcoming General Election and the underwhelming performance of the 4G leadership in the PAP. Voters must weigh the promises against the reality, and make a choice that reflects their true interests and aspirations.

Like a battered woman who finally finds the courage to leave, Singaporean voters must find the strength to vote for change.

The path may be uncertain, and the fear of the unknown is real, but continuing to suffer under the illusion of security is far worse. Singapore deserves better, and so do its people.

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Opinion

A tragic reminder: The urgent need for defamation law reform in Singapore

Opinion: The tragic suicide of Geno Ong highlights the emotional and financial toll of defamation lawsuits in Singapore, where plaintiffs often aren’t required to prove reputational damage. Her case, alongside others, calls for urgent reform to ensure fairer balance between protecting reputation and free speech.

Published

6 days ago

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9 September 2024

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The recent suicide of Geno Ong has once again cast a spotlight on the nature of defamation laws in Singapore and the pressures they exert on those caught in legal battles.

Ong’s tragic note, accusing businessman Raymond Ng of financially and emotionally breaking her through lawsuits, reflects the personal toll of defamation cases in a jurisdiction where proving damage to reputation is not always required.

This backdrop invites a broader reflection on how defamation laws in Singapore are structured, particularly when compared to other legal systems like the UK’s.

In the UK, as seen in the recent case of British billionaire Sir James Dyson, courts demand that plaintiffs demonstrate significant reputational harm.

Dyson lost his defamation case against the Daily Mirror because he could not prove any financial loss stemming from the publication. This standard, established under the UK’s Defamation Act 2013, creates a higher threshold for plaintiffs, emphasizing the need to show serious damage.

In contrast, Singapore’s defamation laws, as demonstrated in the recent legal victory of Singaporean Ministers K Shanmugam and Vivian Balakrishnan against Lee Hsien Yang (LHY), do not require proof of reputational damage.

The Ministers successfully argued that LHY’s Facebook post insinuated corrupt practices, even though LHY maintained that his post did not imply personal benefit or corruption. The Singapore court sided with the Ministers, and LHY did not pursue a counterclaim.

Comparing Legal Standards: Singapore vs. the UK

This divergence between the UK and Singapore is stark. While Sir James Dyson’s lawsuit was dismissed due to a lack of evidence of financial loss, the Singaporean Ministers’ lawsuit prevailed based on the interpretation of a Facebook post, with no need to prove actual harm.

In Singapore, it is often the defendant’s responsibility to disprove the defamation, a legal structure that may make it easier for powerful individuals to pursue and win defamation suits.

For critics, this represents a significant flaw in Singapore’s defamation laws, as the threshold for sustaining defamation suits is relatively low. Plaintiffs in Singapore are not required to show reputational damage or financial loss, leading to concerns that defamation laws may be used by the wealthy and powerful to silence critics, rather than to address legitimate harm.

The Impact on Free Speech and Public Discourse

These cases raise important questions about the balance between protecting individuals from defamation and safeguarding freedom of speech.

In the case of LHY, one might question what reputational harm the Ministers could have suffered when they remained in power and continued to be elected by the public.

Should defamation lawsuits be used when public figures face criticism in a democratic society? These legal actions, especially when successful, may have a chilling effect on free speech, discouraging citizens from voicing concerns about public figures for fear of legal retaliation.

Similarly, in the case of Geno Ong, Raymond Ng’s defamation lawsuits against her raise significant questions about the actual damage to his reputation.

Ong’s accusations, while serious, appeared to target a niche social media audience and did not seem to widely impact Ng’s standing or business operations.

Given his continued involvement in business, it becomes difficult to argue that Ng’s reputation suffered substantial harm from Ong’s posts. This situation echoes broader concerns about Singapore’s defamation laws, where plaintiffs are not required to show clear evidence of reputational damage to succeed in their claims.

Moreover, the Ministers chose to serve LHY legal papers in the UK, a jurisdiction with a higher threshold for defamation claims, through social messaging rather than physical service.

This decision, and the Ministers’ choice to pursue the case in Singapore rather than the UK, where the case might have been dismissed, raises concerns about fairness. Critics suggest that Singapore’s legal framework, influenced by long-standing laws and political structures, favours those in positions of power.

The Future of Defamation Laws in Singapore

The contrast between the Dyson case in the UK and the Ministers’ case in Singapore demonstrates how defamation laws in different jurisdictions can lead to significantly different outcomes.

In the UK, the onus is on the plaintiff to prove serious harm, offering greater protection to free speech. In Singapore, the burden often shifts to the defendant, creating a system where plaintiffs in positions of power can more easily sue for defamation without showing significant damage.

Without legislative reforms, defamation laws in Singapore may continue to be seen as tools that can be used by those in power to suppress criticism, stifling public discourse.

Geno Ong’s case, while rooted in personal tragedy, highlights the emotional and financial toll that defamation suits can have on ordinary individuals.

Ong’s story, alongside high-profile cases like those involving the Ministers and LHY, underscores the need for a deeper conversation about the purpose and fairness of defamation laws in Singapore.

Ultimately, Singapore must grapple with the question of whether its defamation laws strike the right balance between protecting reputations and upholding freedom of speech in a democratic society.

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Opinion

Charity or Campaigning?: The blurred line between aid and political influence in Singapore

Opinion: The intersection of charity and politics in Singapore raises questions when politicians appear at events like grocery distributions. While well-intentioned, such appearances can blur lines, influencing vulnerable voters who may associate aid with political figures, impacting free and fair competition.

Published

6 days ago

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9 September 2024

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The intersection of charity work and politics is a sensitive topic, particularly when voluntary organisations and political figures come together to distribute handouts.

In Singapore, where elections often see the People’s Action Party (PAP) dominate constituencies, these charity-driven distributions, whether intentional or not, sometimes blur the lines between volunteerism and political campaigning.

Grace Fu, a PAP politician representing Yuhua Single Member Constituency (SMC), posted on her Facebook page on 27 August, highlighting an event where student volunteers distributed groceries and household essentials to the residents of Yuhua.

This initiative, organised by the South West Community Development Council (CDC) and HRHS (好人好事), saw volunteers working to help defray living costs for residents.

While the post emphasized the role of kindness, the optics of Fu personally being present to hand out groceries may give rise to questions about the intent behind such appearances.

You can see similar events where Ms Fu is seen along with handouts by charitable organisations to residents in Yuhua.

This brings to mind a conversation I had with Robin Low, the Singapore Democratic Party (SDP) candidate who ran against Fu in the 2020 General Election.

Low shared his hopefulness during the campaign, buoyed by residents expressing dissatisfaction with the status quo and support for the SDP’s platform. Yet, despite this apparent backing, he was disheartened with the final results, receiving only 29.46% of the vote, a marginal improvement over the 2015 results but a step back from the 2011 outcome.

Low’s experience post-election provides a striking insight into how residents may interpret acts of charity. As he went back to thank voters, he had a conversation with one resident who had expressed support for SDP during the campaign.

When asked why he ultimately voted for Fu, the resident admitted that his decision was influenced by the gratitude he felt for a bag of rice he received, mistakenly believing it came from Fu herself. Low tried to explain that the rice was actually from the NGOs involved in the event, but the resident was confused, noting that Fu was present during the distribution.

This anecdote, while personal, illustrates a broader challenge in Singapore’s political landscape.

While the distribution of goods is often driven by NGOs and charitable causes, the close proximity of politicians to these events can leave a lasting impression on residents—one that may influence voting decisions, particularly among the poor.

For some, the gratitude felt for these handouts, even if provided by a neutral third party, can be transferred to the political figures who appear during the distribution.

This, in turn, complicates the narrative of free and fair political competition, especially when residents are left unclear as to the true source of the support.

The perception that politicians are directly responsible for handouts, whether accurate or not, can sway the votes of the more vulnerable populations who feel a sense of obligation or gratitude for this perceived generosity.

For poorer residents, the immediate and tangible relief from a bag of rice or household essentials may outweigh the less immediate and often abstract promises made during political campaigns. It highlights how acts of charity, even when unintentional, can play a powerful role in shaping electoral outcomes.

This scenario raises questions about the ethical implications of politicians being present at charitable distributions.

While these events can genuinely benefit residents, they also risk being seen as part of a larger campaign strategy, where goodwill is exchanged for political support. It is a complex dynamic that touches on the heart of political ethics in Singapore and calls for clearer boundaries between voluntary aid and electoral influence.

In a broader sense, this reflection encourages us to consider how the provision of aid, particularly to the poor, can be seen as a tool of influence.

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