By not allowing journals to increase their sales, the government has achieved some concessions. Both Time and Asiaweek, after they had been gazetted, published the disputed letters intact. So we restored Time’s circulation, and in due course, we would restore Asiaweek’s.
Conclusion
I have not come to convert you to my point of view, for that would be impossible. All I aim to do is to persuade you that the Singapore government’s position is not irrational, that we seek no quarrel with the foreign press when we require them to remember that they are observers, not participants, in Singapore’s domestic politics.
Lee has always given short shrift to opinion polls. He made this point to New Zealand academics and journalists in Christchurch on April 15, 1975.
You appear to some degree dictatorial
QUESTION: But Prime Minister, I think many people around the world admire very much what you have done for Singapore, you and your party. Yet there are some things in people’s minds which appear to be to some degree dictatorial within your attitude. I’d like to know – how do you think the history books are going to see Lee Kuan Yew?
LEE KUAN YEW: I don’t think I worry too much about what people think. And when you say people here, you mean the people in the news media, people in academia, the so-called liberals with a small l. I think I can put up with them. In fact, criticism or general debunking even stimulates me because I think it is foolish not to have your people read you being made fun of. And we have got books circulating in Singapore written specially for this purpose by foreigners. Fine! But I would like to believe – never mind what historians say, but whoever wants to do a Ph.D. thesis, and perhaps there will be quite a few who might want to dig up the archives – they might come to the conclusion that here was a group of men who went through quite an unusual set of experiences in a very momentous period of the world, beginning with the Second World War and decolonisation and the setting up of new countries, so many that the United Nations now has become quite unwieldy, and not many of which are likely to succeed. And perhaps if we don’t fail, and we will not know that really for a very long time until we have stepped down from office, then obviously despite the criticisms, despite the doubts and queries of how Westerners would have done it, we had our feet on the ground, our heads fairly screwed to our shoulders and we did the right thing by those whose fate was temporarily entrusted in our hands and by our own convictions.
Criticism or general debunking even stimulates me because I think it is foolish not to have your people read you being made fun of.
Lee’s ability as a leader to get to the heart of a problem has been instrumental in helping Singapore achieve much success in many fields, including its national airline. In this speech, on July 16, 1972, on the eve of the break-up of Malaysia-Singapore Airlines, out of which Singapore Airlines emerged, he pinpointed what was needed to make SIA succeed. The speech was delivered to the Singapore Air Transport Workers’ Union.
How to make SIA a great way to fly
A traveller, before boarding an aeroplane, asks himself three questions in this order of importance:
Will I get there?
Will I get there on time?
How comfortable will I be on board?
Singapore Airlines will inherit 25 years of experience. Malayan Airways started off in Singapore 25 years ago with three “Air Speed Consul” aircraft.
There is little to choose between aircraft. All major airlines now use standard proven aircraft. Between established major airlines, there is also little difference in standards of maintenance, or the professionalism of engineers and technicians or pilots. The differences there are lie in the efficiency of the organisation, management, which takes years to build up, and labour and wage costs.
The major airlines of the industrialised countries have established reputations for getting people more or less punctually to their destinations. But there is scepticism whether airlines run by countries not yet industrialised can provide such services.
I know little of the mysteries of advertising and the soft sell. But I believe no magic set of initials, no logo, can sell, to more than the first few, something which is not good.
Fortunately, we are establishing ourselves as one of the few countries which, though still in the process of being industrialised, have already developed the habit for tiptop maintenance and a zeal for efficiency. It is reflected in a people’s philosophy of life – either easy-going and tolerant of substandard work, or active and insistent on nothing less than the best achievable.
I know little of the mysteries of advertising and the soft sell. But I believe no magic set of initials, no logo, can sell, to more than the first few, something which is not good. By skilful publicity, the PR man can attract attention and get across an idea. But if the idea got across does not tally with the reality, then the value of the advertisement, however attractive, is soon dissipated.
Our best asset is in the reputation of Singapore itself. To most people abroad – in governments, in finance, in business, and to many ordinary newspaper readers in the main cities of the world – “Singapore” means a hardworking and hardheaded people, a thrusting new nation rapidly climbing up the technological ladder. This is a reputation forged out of our struggle for survival. A reputation earned this hard way is a durable one, and very different from the “image” created by skilful image-makers. The future of Singapore Airlines depends more on the reality SIA leaves behind on their passengers than on any advertisement. To improve efficiency of organisation, promptness and friendliness of service, these must be our constant aims.
Reputations are continually made and lost. Within a matter of months, we can either enhance the reputation we inherit from MSA or fritter it away. What passengers actually experience and pass on to their friends is far more effective than any glossy advertisement, however useful in selling an airline.
Singapore runs an airline not for reasons of prestige, but for plain economic benefit.
Singapore runs an airline not for reasons of prestige, but for plain economic benefit. We are at the centre of the main North-South and Northwest-Southwest jet routes. Other countries will give us landing rights because they want to land in Singapore. But if we cannot make profitable use of any of these landing rights, we should have no compunction in closing a service down. This is our approach to life.
We are not flying in a restricted and protected home market. We are flying the international jet routes in competition with major world airlines. Our standards must always go up, never slide down. We have to get new aircraft as soon as they are proven after profitable operations by major airlines. You must match our faith in you by never letting Singapore be apologetic for your slovenly or slack work.
One great advantage we have over the major airlines of the wealthy world is in our service. As Americans and Europeans become more and more affluent, their people are less eager to please customers whether in shops or in aircraft. But the never-tiring courtesy and efficiency of our cabin crew have won recognition from all seasoned travellers, who have sampled all the major airlines. This will help make our airline.
Over the years, Lee has kept his private life mostly private. He has not, for example, been one to celebrate his birthdays in public. Among those which he did was his 60th birthday, on September 16, 1983. On that occasion, celebrated at the Mandarin Hotel, he made this speech.
My birthday wish
I have had only one birthday publicly celebrated. It was in September 1973, 10 years ago. Devan Nair, then Secretary-General of the NTUC, wanted to organise one to mark the occasion. After reflection, I agreed because I hoped it would serve a wider purpose of bringing the different segments of our society together rather than simply be an occasion for luxuriating in felicitations and congratulations. In the same way, I hope this dinner will serve more significant needs than those of my personal joy and satisfaction.
It is as well that I am not a believer in lucky numbers, or other charms. Otherwise, when Singapore
parted from Malaysia, I would have suffered an immense psychological blow, believing my birthday date is inauspicious.
A momentous event took place on my 40th birthday 20 years ago. On September 16, 1963, Malaysia was proclaimed and Singapore became part of it. I celebrated my 40th birthday by going to Kuala Lumpur to attend the formal declaration of Malaysia at the Stadium Negara and returned the same evening to continue a crucial general election in Singapore.
The original date fixed for Malaysia Day had been August 31, 1963. Sukarno had raised objections and the United Nations observers were sent to Borneo to ascertain the wishes of the people of North Borneo and Sarawak. Hence the date was postponed. When the date September 16, 1963 was fixed, the Tunku did not know it was my birthday, nor did he intend it as recognition for the work that I had done to help bring about the Federation of Malaysia.
Eight was his lucky number. Since the United Nations report was not expected to be ready by the 8th he fixed it for the 16th: 2 times 8. It is as well that I am not a believer in lucky numbers, or other charms. Otherwise, when Singapore parted from Malaysia, I would have suffered an immense psychological blow, believing my birthday date is inauspicious.
Well, what have I done in the 10 years since 1973? I hope I have helped to consolidate Singapore’s advance in economic growth and social development. More important, I have got together a core group of younger ministers who can make for continuity of honest, effective, and responsive government.
What have I learned since 1973? Some more basic unchangeables about human beings and human societies, the ways in which they can be made to do better, and the ever present danger of regression and even collapse, as in Cambodia.
I realise how very fragile a civilised society is, especially in Southeast Asia, in this historic period of rapid change and revolutions. I have also come to understand the insignificance of personal achievements. For at 60, more than at 50, comes the realisation of the transient nature of all earthly glories and successes, and the ephemeral quality of sensory joys and pleasures, when compared to intellectual, moral or spiritual satisfactions.
I consider the last 10 years in office as less eventful and significant compared to my first 10 years: 1959–69. Then it was a matter of life and death, not only for my colleagues and me but for most people in Singapore.
First, we battled against the communists, a battle we did not look like winning, until the referendum to join Malaysia on September 1, 1962, and September 21, 1963, when we won a second term at the general elections. Then followed our troubles with the communalists. In the two years we were in Malaysia, until separation on August 9, 1965, we went through the agonies of intimidation, and the fear of irrational or mindless communal killings.
Next, in November 1967 came the devaluation of the British pound, followed, in January 1968, by the British government announcement of their decision to withdraw from their bases in Singapore. 1959–69 were 10 tumultuous, exciting and exhausting years. They were also years during which we laid the foundations for national stability, unity and development. Had I been older, say 55 instead of 35, when I started in 1959, I would not have had the sheer physical stamina and vigour nor the emotional zest and enthusiasm needed to meet the daunting difficulties and threats.
I have wondered how much of what I am is nature and how much was nurture. Would I have been a different person if I had not been tempered through the crucible of struggle? In moments of whimsy, I have asked myself: what would have happened to my identical twin, if I had one and he had been brought up, say, in Hongkong? He would have become totally different in his values, attitudes, and motivations. After reading the studies on identical twins, I have to concede that in his physical, mental and emotional makeup, my twin must be like me.
In moments of whimsy, I have asked myself: what would have happened to my identical twin, if I had one and he had been brought up, say, in Hongkong?
However, I think it impossible that he could have my attitude to life without my experiences. Placed in Hongkong, where the only outlet for his energies would be the pursuit of wealth, he must have acquired a different set of values and have set himself different goals in life. For these studies showed that identical twins sometimes do have different habits. Some smoke, some do not. If being a smoker is out of conscious choice, an act of will, then there are many areas where human beings are not totally pre-programmed.
My Hongkong twin might have wanted to rebel against the British, but he would have found himself frustrated. He would then set out to make money, a useful activity, and exciting for the successful. But after the trials and tribulations I went through in the ’50s and ’60s I would find this an arid life. Having taken life-and-death decisions and gone through one acute crisis after another, my perspectives, ambitions and priorities have undergone a fundamental, and I believe, a permanent transformation. I may not have changed in my physical, mental and emotional makeup, the hardware side. But the software side, my responses to God, glory or gold, have been conditioned by my experiences. In other words, however capacious the hardware (nature) without the software (nurture), not much can be made of the hardware.
Having taken life-and-death decisions and gone through one acute crisis after another, my perspectives, ambitions and priorities have undergone a fundamental, and I believe, a permanent transformation.
Would I like to know the future, to know what Singapore will be like ten, twenty years from now? Yes, of course. So would all of us. But we do not have this privilege. Perhaps as well, for that makes us strive all the more to secure the future. My experiences have left me with some indelible lessons, and a set of ingrained habits. Both the experiences and the habits force me to ensure that the precious gains we have made will not be lost because the base on which our security and prosperity rest is so narrow. Hence my ceaseless search for younger men of ability and dedication.
Most Singaporeans below 25 take for granted what were only dreams when they were born two decades ago: the well-paid jobs available, the strength of the Singapore dollar which buys the homes they own, or soon will, the furniture and furnishings, TV, home appliances, the smart clothes and shoes, motorcycles and cars. They do not remember a Singapore which was not an orderly society, where the environment was not clean and green, and when life for most was a hard struggle for bare existence. Those who have travelled abroad know that full employment, annual increase in purchasing power, and a healthy environment – these are not the natural order of things. They require social discipline and the will to work and to achieve.
There are times when I get glimpses of the challenges facing the next generation. We are on our own, responsible for our own defence and survival. There are no safety nets like the British-Australian-New Zealand forces. We have to weave our regional net of relationships to help maintain stability and security. Otherwise economic development is impossible. There are many imponderables. The present leaders of Asean are in accord and harmony because they share common objectives. They all have strong memories of the last war and of the insurrections that followed when communist insurgents attempted to seize power. By the 1990s, Asean leaders will come from a generation that did not have this common experience. Therefore, we must make these personal experiences into a part of Asean’s institutional memories so that not too much will have to be learned all over again, and at too high a cost.
I would like to conclude by recounting one unforgettable social encounter. On May 8, 1973, I was in Nagasaki. My wife launched a 240,000 ton oil tanker, the Neptune World, at the Mitsubishi Shipyards that morning. After lunch, my Japanese host took me out to the golf course. After 9 holes he asked if I wanted to go on. It was wet and windy. He was a slim, wiry man, some 6–8 cm shorter than me. He looked some ten years older than me. I told him I would play the second nine. He went on to play a lively game on a hilly course.
That night he gave us dinner. As he relaxed on the tatami with food and sake, he turned to me on his right and said, “Today, I am a grand senior.” I asked him w
hat it meant. He said “Today is my 70th birthday. In Japan you are a grand senior at 70.” I gasped. He was actually 20 years older than me. And he had played 18 holes on a hard course to please me. Then he recounted how he was born, been schooled, and had married in Nagasaki. He had several children. And on August 9, 1945, as he was coming home from a journey outstation, he saw an intensely brilliant flash and a mushroom cloud over Nagasaki. He was on the other side of the mountain. Later that day, when he got on to the ridge, he saw Nagasaki devastated. His home, his wife and his children had been obliterated.
I would like to be able to sit back, if only for the day I become a grand senior, to survey a thriving Singapore, with a younger prime minister and his Cabinet well established, in a relationship of trust and confidence with the people of Singapore, and on top of the many problems that come with high growth and rapid change.
He spoke without bitterness, only deep sorrow. Then he regained his bounce to reassure me that he had remarried and started another family. That 70th birthday was a day of fulfilment for him, a life rebuilt, a new ship launched, and 18 holes of golf to celebrate his vigour. He was satisfied with his 70 years. How much of that was in his nature, how much was due to his nurture, the culture of the Japanese and their tradition of fatalism and unremitting effort to rebuild after each earthquake, each typhoon, each tidal wave, I shall never know.
Lee Kuan Yew: The Man and His Ideas Page 61