I approached Starbucks, Sophie by my side. It was a little after 1300; the lunchtime crowd was starting to thin out, albeit very reluctantly. Businessmen of all stripes, collars, colours and nationalities sat at tables inside and outside the establishment, sipping nearly-empty cups of expensive coffee, folding down laptops, PDAs, mobile phones, concluding some discussion of the day’s events, or perhaps merely extending the workplace to the lunchplace. Some people were of university age, typing away at personal laptops, working on yet another term paper, with a stack of thick books to refer to, and a cup of latté to chase away fatigue. Others still, of other ages, in their respective cliques, lounged against chairs and benches, perhaps resting, all chatting, their purchases of the day settled on formerly empty chairs or spaces.

Sophie turned to me as we headed towards it. Currently on vacation, she would be staying in Singapore for the rest of the year, what was left of it. She had on a dark green spaghetti top, complemented by faded blue jeans and a pair of low-heeled black pumps. They blended into her tanned complexion, gained by two days’ worth of exposure to the equatorial sun. She left her face unadorned, choosing only a pair of wraparound sunglasses to fend off the worst of the sun’s rays. Perhaps that was for the best; her roundish face, framed by wavy shoulder-length hair, needed no accessories. To finish it off, she had threaded her left arm through the handles of a modest handbag, cut along Burberry’s lines.

“Sure is going to take some time to get a seat, huh? Do you still want to go in there?” she asked, her omnipresent slight smile emphasizing just a little. I heard a trace of Australia in her voice, a side effect of a parental decision so many years ago.

I smirked. “Yeah. It’ll get better when they -- ” I gestured at the departing businessmen “ -- return to the office. Should be soon, though.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“One word: consumerism. Can’t afford to spend so much tie chit-chatting when there’s work to do, no? We’re always hurrying, hurrying to go here, hurrying to go there, hurrying to go get the job done. Singapore’s materialistic view of things, here meaning an emphasis on money, and goods and services, has placed the economy, and by extension, money, at the top of everyone’s priorities. Everyone’s out trying to make money, trying to work to make money, in order to buy even more goods and services. They can’t afford to waste time chitchatting over a cup of coffee when there’s work to be done, not unless that chitchat is about business. Hell, most of these guys were probably talking about work, at least the high-powered ones.”

“What about the students, then?”

“Why do you think they’re studying? Ultimately, it’s to graduate, get a degree, and then to get a job…and therefore money.”

“Oh…” she replied, voice trailing off. Then: “And the others?”

I chuckled. “Where do you think the money they spent to buy their stuff came from?”

She giggled. “And the staff?”

“Do I really need to say? They’re working, no?”

We exchanged a few laughs. “Gee, can’t you stop connecting things together?” she asked.

“No.”

The answer was a little more sober than intended. Before either of us could react, we spotted a table, recently evacuated by an American businessman and his local female counterpart. We sat down promptly, before anybody behind us could take it.

“So, what do you want?” I asked, as soon as she had settled.

“Hmm…a cappuccino, I think.”

“All right, then.” Standing up, I walked over to the counter, behind a foreigner, a tall blond-haired woman. The cashier’s (or whatever her job description was) face lit up, greeting, “Hi! Welcome to Starbucks. How may I help you?”

“I’ll have a latté, please,” she replied, in lilting Queen’s English, giving out her table number. She walked away, almost regally, back to her seat; I moved up the queue, making eye contact with the staff member. Her face has become stolid, a little stonier. “How may I help you?” she asked, almost demanded.

“Two cappuccinos, please.” I checked the price: twelve dollars in total.

She recorded the purchase with the efficiency and humanity of a robot. “Table number?”

I gave her the number, and left. The icy, hypocritical reception was not unexpected, of course: most Singaporeans in the service sector tend to treat their countrymen as second-class citizens, giving preference to foreigners. Maybe it was because they tend to be more courteous, or they had more money to burn, or perhaps it was a memory from colonial times, when the British lorded it over the locals.

“How much was it?” Sophie asked, as I sat down. By now, she had set her bag on her lap.

“Six dollars per,” was my matter-of-fact reply.

“Wah! Why so much?” she exclaimed, her Singaporean Chinese roots returning.

“Capitalism.” I said it the way a socialist would, more for ironic effect than anything else.

“Oh?”

Ï took a deep breath. “Capitalism, among other things, requires a more-or-less free market. Singapore’s Government has maintained a mixed market model that, in theory, favours the free market. Now, as you know, supply and demand is the foundation of price setting. There will always be demand and thus supply for coffee; but, in the case of a cappuccino, it is a luxury good, for not very many people can afford a cappuccino, or even want to drink one. Therefore, it is price elastic, meaning that a change in price will lead to a very small change in the quantity demanded for the good.

“In addition to this, the Starbucks brand is well-known in developed countries, with a reputation for, among other things, quality coffee. This particular branch is located in the Central Business District, where rents are high. Ergo, costs are higher than that of, say, a coffee shop. At the same time, its prime location attracts a clientele comprising of mostly businessmen, who can afford higher-priced goods, especially since it is situated near a couple of office buildings. Furthermore, down the road, you’d find a couple of shopping malls, which means that this place can serve a number of shoppers en route to the malls, or away from there. These shoppers would be able to afford higher-priced goods, as they are, after all, essentially spending money on material goods, so what’s another five, six, or even ten dollars? In addition, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong has announced his intention to raise Goods and Services Tax to seven percent, so everything would become costlier. All this, of course, does not even count salaries, utility bills, and other costs.

“All these factors favour a price for the cappuccinos sold here being higher than that of cappuccinos sold elsewhere, in order to maximise revenue. Remember that, as per economics theory, the objective of every firm is to maximise revenue. Not that the price can be very high, though: while cappuccinos aren’t sold just anywhere in Singapore, Starbucks also faces competition from other bars and stuff. Therefore, the company has to make a compromise between making more money and accounting for the competition. As a result, they think six dollars a cup is enough.”

She blinked.

“Gosh, I didn’t come here to learn about economics!” she answered, half in jest.

“Ah, but you must agree that I’m right!”

She giggled again. “Er…actually I wasn’t paying much attention.”

I mock-sighed. “Heh. Why do people not like thinking anyway?”

“Maybe because to most people, it’s very hard?”

Presently, a stone-faced waitress arrived, setting a pair of mugs in front of us. We paid for our individual cups, and she left us alone. I nodded at Sophie. “That’s right; a lot of people don’t like to think about what’s going on around them, or even why they’re doing things. They just do, operating in a near subconscious state of mind. They’ve gotten so used to that that thinking about what they do becomes very difficult.”

“Yeah…”

Sophie grabbed her mug, raising it. “Cheers!”

I took up mine, and returned it. We clinked them together in a mock salute, and brought them to our lips. I took a quick sip of it; it went down hot and fragrant, leaving a trail of heat as it travelled down my gullet. Sophie took care to blow at the liquid before taking a sip herself.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she remarked.

“…I guess. I don’t usually go to Starbucks.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I did say that a cappuccino was a luxury good, no? I can do without it; hell, I can do without coffee for that matter.”

“So why meet here?”

I shrugged. “As good a meeting point as any other, I guess. Besides, it’s been a while since I wasted some money on a nearly-useless beverage.”

She giggled again. “You’re funny.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I am entitled to a sense of humour, am I not?”

She nodded empathetically, taking another sip.

“So, what’ve you been up to these days?” I asked.

“Oh, just walking around, catching up with our ex-classmates, doing some shopping, the usual. It’s need a year since I last returned to Singapore.”

“I see. Any plans for the future?”

“Oh?” she asked, a quizzical expression on her face.

“Yeah. Any future ambition, any career in mind? You are going to University next year.”

“Well, I’m planning to go into law school, actually.”

“Lawyer, eh? Specifically?”

“Well, I’m not sure yet. I’m trying to decide between real estate and commercial law. What about you? Any plans for university and beyond?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Philosophy appeals to me in a sense that no other subject does…and its entry requirement is absurdly easy. I’m confident that I can make it. However, I’m considering a course in political science; politics is, after all, one of my specialities. Still, if I DO want to enter politics in the future, I might as well take up a course in law; it’s supposedly better than one in political science. However, you need four As for your four content-based subjects in order to enter law school, unless you go overseas, and even that depends on which university you intend to go too.”

“Oh…” She took another sip of coffee. “Not exactly conventional, are you?”

“As in?”

“Most of the Singaporeans I know want to be a doctor, a lawyer -- not that there’re very many here -- or maybe a manager somewhere…but you, you’re different…you don’t want to have any of these jobs, right? I mean, lawyer aside, of course.”

“Yup. They’re too…conventional, I think.”

“Conventional?”

I took a pull from my cup. “Remember what I said about materialism and consumerism in Singapore? It’s expanded to the workplace, and to the school. As children, we’re all encouraged to study hard, get a good degree, get a good job, and all that. It’s always been lawyer, doctor, pilot, whatever, because they earn a lot of money. It’s traditional wisdom, after all, that cash is king here, and status everything. Right now, if I were to throw this cup at someone along this street, or even inside Starbucks, I’d hit a degree or a diploma holder.”

She smiled. “Even the waitress?”

She looked all of sixteen, probably working part-time.

“Well, why not? For all we know, she’s probably on university attachment or something!”

A larger smile.

“You get my point, now? See, most people here, in the pursuit of material goods, chase after paper degrees, either consciously or unconsciously. They’re living out the Singaporean consumerist mindset as applied to work and society, wherein in order to gain material goods, one must work like hell, but one requires paper qualifications first before one can work. But is this what I believe in? Just because society thinks it so doesn’t mean that I have to accept it, do I? I don’t believe in it, don’t believe in society’s materialism. I’m no materialist or consumerist; I don’t define the world strictly by what I can see or sense, and don’t draw pleasure from my personal property. I place certain moral values higher that that.”

“But people have moral values, don’t they?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, Singaporean society surely has moral values, don’t they?”

“In a sense, yes, but it’s the morality of the herd. I’m not talking just about Singapore alone; this phenomenon can be seen just about anywhere: in school, at work, in New York, in Canberra. Every person has his own set of morals. In a crowd, all these morals are subconsciously communicated to each other through the collective interpretation of the acts of the individual. This interpretation then buries itself into the subconscious spirit of the crowd, ‘crowd’ meaning a literal one, or simply society, a town, that sort of thing. Wherever individual morals coincide in society, I call them ‘societal morals’. Mark you, this means the morality of society, as opposed to simply ‘morals’, which I define as personal in nature.

“The problem with societal morals is that the majority can be wrong. Germany of the 1930s, for example, went along with Hitler and his militancy, his anti-Semitism, his suppression of opposition, his propaganda -- ”

“But his opposition was suppressed. Either dissenters shut up, or were arrested.”

“Which further illustrates my point. The use of force aimed at the minority view created a sense of fear amongst the people. Those who did not agree with Hitler thought that if they oppose him, they would be quickly eliminated. In addition to this, we have the herd mentality, wherein people seem to want to go along with a strong leader, and follow his orders, for fear of standing out in a crowd. The 1963 Milgram experiment is proof of this. Then, there are the true believers, who want to follow some movement, for it gives them hope, belief, whatever. They form the core component of the herd, which unconsciously provides everyone else an incentive to follow. In Singapore, the State follows a kind of Confucianism, specifically its social hierarchy. In effect, one respects one’s elders and superiors, without challenging them, at least not directly, even though you may think differently.

“All these factors encourage an atmosphere of conformity, which, when applied to morals, means that people within the herd tend to follow the current moral system of the crowd, as influenced by all the above factors, as well as its leaders. This, however, means that they are not thinking, rather unconsciously following without analysing the actual values of the crowd.

“In this respect, I am opposed to the morals of the herd, for it may not always be right. In fact, I feel that it is not right. As stated earlier, the people of Singapore are materialistic and consumeristic; they base their lives on what they can sense, and covet material goods for consumption. This worldview, in a sense, is the foundation of their morals, for one create one’s morals through one’s worldview. I am opposed to this, having a different worldview than mainstream society; by extension, I am opposed to a set of morals based on consumerist wants.”

“Why is that? What’s wrong with society’s consumerism?”

“You see, in Singapore, the main thing we as a society value is money. Material goods. Lift upgrades -- ”

“Lift upgrades?”

“Lift upgrades.”

She chuckled. “Why lift upgrades?”

“It was one of the points GE 2006 was fought over. Pathetic, isn’t it? Consumer goods cannot compensate for other things. What if you die? You can’t take any of your possessions with you. Your relations may burn paper money or other goods for you if you’re Buddhist or Taoist, but does that mean that you would receive them, assuming you live on in an afterlife? And what about other day-to-day affairs? Patriotism is not materialistic; it calls to people who feel a sense of attachment to their country, but not necessarily the material goods therein. Remember that it had always been a band of patriots who have forged new nations from fire, and a new generation of patriots to preserve these nations. What about social relations? Do we define our relations as interactions with human beings? Or do we connect through and with our material goods? If it were the latter, then I should think that we have stopped being thinking, free human beings, and instead are slaves at the consumerist altar. This is why I’m opposed to Singapore’s herd mentality, it’s societal norms: I don’t see materialism and its offshoot, consumerism, as a be-all and end-all; and that it has adverse effects on the human soul.”

She shook her head. “Wait, wait…need to digest all this first.”

I smirked. “Take your time…most people don’t understand what I’m saying, anyway. Getting this far makes you stand out.”

She smiled again, and took another drink. So did I, remembering the cappuccino in front of me.

“What about individual morals? The morals of the people in the ‘herd’, as you put it?”

“I cannot claim to know the morals of every individual therein; I can only hope to know what another person values through interpretation of their actions. One of these individuals may be selfless, another may be compassionate, but when absorbed into the crowd, these values are for naught, not unless they can rise above the crowd.”

“So why can’t you look at these individuals instead?”

“The sad fact remains that, barring some exceptionally strong-willed people, any congregation of people will form a herd, and from there a herd mentality. Individual quirks are subsumed into the collective unconscious, by virtue of being the minority. If these quirks belong to the majority of the people, then they stop being ‘quirks’; more than half of the people possess these traits, putting an end to their individuality. In Singapore, the primary trait of the collective unconsciousness is materialism and consumerism. Had people been selfless and compassionate, then we as a nation would be noted for it, but right now, we are remembered for materialism and consumerism. Every nation will not be judged by the exceptional individuals within it, but rather by its worldview and actions, for, in the long run, the individual doesn’t really matter, at least not when the analysis of large systems like societies is concerned.”

She shook her head. “…Wait, wait, wait…let me think about it first.”

I smirked, and took another sip of cappuccino. After a while, another sip, Sophie finally spoke up.

“So, what do you believe in? What values do you rank as important?”

“Loyalty, for one. Justice. Equality. Democracy. Stuff like that. Material goods rank somewhere near the bottom, if I ever think about them.”

“Isn’t ‘justice’, ‘equality’, and ‘democracy’ in Singapore’s national pledge?”

I chuckled bitterly. “Yup. ‘We pledge to build a democratic society, based on justice and equality.’ That explains why ‘democracy’ is taboo here. That explains why a man has to attend two concurrent court cases without a lawyer. That’s why Singapore has one of the highest income gaps in the world.”

“Oh? Care to elaborate?”

Ï took another drink. Damn, where did all my words come from? “It has been official Government policy that a strong leadership is preferable to having members of any political opposition party within Parliament. Our Prime Minister has already pointed this out: in a trip to New Zealand, he advocated a one-party system by saying that a two- or multi-party system would be inefficient, lead to party politics, and so on. In fact, during the GE, Lee said that if we had more than ten Opposition Members of Parliament, he’d have to think of ways and means to ‘fix’ the Opposition, and ‘buy’ his ‘supporters’ votes’ instead of spending time on national policy. He said that it was a ‘slip of the tongue’.

“During the GE, you’d find that the media seems somewhat slanted towards the People’s Action Party. It had a lot of articles relating to the PAP, with only some going to the Opposition. Of course, it could simply be because the PAP had more candidates than any two Opposition parties. The Opposition was given just one chance to state their political cause and beliefs, during a time slot that lasted all of ten minutes. The PAP didn’t have any real arguments why they should be voted into power; the sum of their arguments was ‘we have served you for forty years; vote us in and we shall serve you well.’ The rest of their time was spent on a smear campaign, saying why the Opposition was bad. James Gomez of the Workers’ Party, for instance, was criticised again and again and again for being ‘a liar and a cheat’ out to disrupt the electoral process.

“Mind, Gomez just applied for an election permit at an electoral board, registering himself as part of a Group Representative Committee, meaning a group of candidates representing a political area in Singapore. He applied at Ang Mo Kio GRC, by the way. Shortly thereafter, he claimed that the officials there misplaced the permit; later investigations revealed that he had taken it. Thing is, Gomez was actually contesting Aljunied GRC. He was allowed to continue contesting Aljunied GRC, with his WP mates. Therefore, this whole thing was really a non-issue.”

“It can’t be that bad, surely. Didn’t the WP or other parties do anything?”

“Yup,” I nodded. “They chose to let the facts speak for themselves, instead of arguing with Lee Kwan Yew and co. By adopting the moral high ground, they managed to convince more voters…not that it mattered very much; Aljunied went to the PAP. As for the other parties, I recall a member of the Singapore Democratic Alliance challenging another PAP candidate to a public debate over something; this was not taken up. Can’t remember much, though.”

“What about outside the elections?”

I smirked. “It’s not pretty. Before the elections, the Media Development Authority banned podcasts and blogging about the General Elections, and about the rallies conducted by various political parties. The official reason was to prevent distortion of the facts and thereby unfairly influencing the elections. Think about what I’ve said and see if you agree. In addition, the Lees, as well as Senior Minister Goh Chok Tong, have routinely engaged in lawsuits. The charges are defamation, slander, the usual. The Far Eastern Economic Review, now banned in Singapore, is going to court because of an article it ran, covering Doctor Chee Soon Juan.”

“What about that article?”

I drank some more coffee. “Briefly, Chee spouted his usual rhetoric about a lack of democracy and rights in Singapore. The Government in turn viewed it as FEER’s stance, claiming that it destroyed the good name of leading political figures or something like that. In addition, FEER wondered what the Government would do about corruption; the Government in turn saw that as outright accusation of corruption. FEER also raised questions on the Government’s use of lawsuits to keep political dissent under control, and analysed and criticised the Government here.”

“Woah…isn’t that wrong? Why do they insist on suing them?”

“I don’t know; I’ve been asking it myself. The only reason I can think of is that they’re instilling an atmosphere of fear through legal means.”

“Ah…”

Silence for a moment. I took another sip, and carried on. “Let’s put it this way…if anyone were to write down what I just said, he’s liable for a lawsuit or two.”

“Really? How come?”

“Hell if I know,” I admitted. “An overly defensive government can think of all sorts of reasons, rightly or wrong, to deal with opposition. Remember what I said just now, about the Government’s interpretation of things? It’s the straw man fallacy, a logical fallacy, which entails a false interpretation of the facts, then using this interpretation as the basis to refute an argument. I daresay that if the QCs point this out, they’ll be on the verge of winning the case.”

“…Isn’t anybody doing anything about it? Isn’t anyone saying anything about it?”

I took another sip. I sighed. I looked into her eyes.

“No,” I stated simply.

“Why?”

“Firstly, the media is too tame. At best, it reports the news as is, without analysis. At worst, it follows the Government’s line, very subtly painting scenarios as the Government sees things, which, in this case, means that the FEER is wrong. Not much, if anything, has been said about the issue. I’ve yet to see a newspaper article detailing the court case, in fact.

“That’s even assuming that the media is independent. Look: George W. Bush visited Singapore on the 17th of November, giving a speech on US-Asia relations. The media reported that he spoke on free trade alleviating poverty; increasing security relations to combat terror; and the North Korea nuclear issue, among others. It ‘forgot’ one point: Bush said that he would promote democracy and freedom as alternatives to extremism, and that the United States would support democrats and reformers. Not a whisper of it was reported. Same goes for the elections: the media proudly proclaims that 66.6 percent of the electorate voted for the PAP; what it did not say was that it translated to 19 percent of the actual population of Singapore. Neither did it say that tens of thousands of people spoiled their vote, more than in any recent election. Nobody raised this issue, even, at least not in the press. They simply don’t want to, for certain reasons.”

“Heh. Yup.”

“Case in point, Reporters Without Borders rated Singapore as 146 upon 168 for press freedom. I don’t need to say more, no?” Another drink. “Want me to carry on?”

“Sure.”

“Secondly, the judiciary is too compliant: over the years, it has repeatedly judged in favour of the Government, it has not seen fit to review laws unless by Parliamentary decision, and has not been seen to act independently of the Government. Everybody the Government has sued has lost; everybody who tried suing it has lost. The courts do not review the laws, nor analyse them throughout their decision-making; only when the Government said that it is intending to review a law would it bother to do so. Take Section 337 of the law, now, currently under review. This happened only after the Government has declared that it will do so. Contrast this with America or Israel, where the courts strike down laws they deem unconstitutional.

“Thirdly, bloggers are by and large marginalised by the Government. Sure, the people read them. However, they are constantly discredited by the Government, which claims that the mainstream media is more reliable, the bloggers may be wrong, they have a personal agenda, etc. This extends to alternative media, which are sidelined for the self-same reasons. The fact that the media has an agenda, and so does the Government, has been conveniently forgotten.

“Finally, and most importantly, people simply don’t dare to challenge the Government. I’ve already explained why in my discourse on herd mentality.”

“What about the lawyers in court?”

“What lawyers? There are only two lawyers who handle political cases in Singapore: Davinder Singh and M. Ravi. Singh is the Government’s primary lawyer; Ravi defends the Opposition. However, Ravi has recently been suspended for being deemed mentally ill, and for being rude to a judge two years ago. Therefore, there is currently no lawyer representing the Opposition.”

“Oh…that’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No; it’s worse. Ravi was suspended while his client, Chee Soon Juan, was still on trial. Now, Chee is facing two concurrent trials without representation by a lawyer.”

“Really?!”

I nodded.

“What’s he on trial for?”

“The first charge is speaking in public without a license. Remember the IMF meeting in September? He led a four-man demonstration to protest political repression and the rising income gap, the first time in recent history. He planned to march to Parliament House, but was held back by a wall of policemen, who tried convincing them to go home. He didn’t have a police license to ‘speak in public’; therefore he broke the law. Never mind that all he did was to stand quietly during his actual protest, sit down while resting, and lie down while at night. In the eyes of the law, this is a crime.

“The second charge was that he attempted to leave Singapore without permission. Some months ago, he intended to attend the 4th World Democracy Forum in Turkey, but had to get permission from the Official Assignee. Things went downhill after he claimed that the OA delayed things, then finally rejected his submission. After raising it, well…here he is now.”

“That’s so lame lor!”

I nodded. “‘Justice’ my arse.”

She giggled. “Yup.”

I finished my cappuccino. Had I really just delivered all that? Had I really just criticised the Government so much? I had to; my lips were dry, my tongue dehydrated, my throat a little parched. but did it all sink in?

Hard to say.

“You missed something,” she remarked.

“Eh?”

“Rising income gap.”

“Ah, that. Income inequality in Singapore is rising. We’ve surpassed India and America, even. Currently, we’re number 80, out of 126 countries, whose income equality levels have been surveyed and measured by the Gini coefficient. The Gini coefficient is essentially an economics tool used to measure income inequality within a country; the higher the Gini index, the higher the income inequality.”

“What’s Singapore’s?”

“42.5. Keep in mind that America’s is 40.3, and India’s is 32.5.”

“Whoa. Still, if everyone is equally poor, wouldn’t the Gini index be very low?”

“Well, yes. However, remember that Singapore is one of the richest countries in the world. In terms of economic competitiveness, we’re the second in the world. While the exact amount in our reserves is a state secret, it’s safe to speculate that there’re billions of dollars in it. Besides, just look around, and tell me if we’re poor.”

“Heh. True.”

“Yeah. Only the Opposition-held areas, and some very old estates, actually look and feel run-down. Anyway, despite the Government’s promises that nobody would be left behind, it has declared its intention to raise GST rates to seven percent. The hardest-hit would the low-income groups, for they spend a larger proportion of their income on necessities than the higher-income groups. The Government has promised a social security net, though there are no concrete plans as yet.”

“I see…but why are they doing this?”

“It’s been speculated that raising the GST would allow them to lower corporate tax rates. This in turn would theoretically attract foreign investors to Singapore. Our economy has historically been based on foreign investment: literally everything you see around you has its origins elsewhere in the world. In order for us to survive economically, we need foreign investment; it’s that simple, at least in their eyes. However, in Hong Kong, Australia, even Eastern Europe, corporate taxes are falling, and measures are being taken to ensure economic competitiveness. If they were to stop investing in Singapore, then we would soon fall.”

“Oh.”

“Again, capitalism.”

“Why? Because of the economies, emphasis on money, and all that?”

“That’s right…and like it or not, the Government is right in that aspect. The globalised world is a materialistic, capitalistic one, where cash is king, the consumer is the key, and that is that. Like it or not, consumerism drives the modern economy: so long as there is demand for something, there will always be supply for it. If people see happiness in personal property, they would then demand more goods. Supplies and firms would then earn money from then, said monies being taxable by the Government, and some of which is owed to the workers, who are themselves consumers. And this cycle continues. Should one ignore this, we’d be shooting ourselves in the foot, economically…and, like it or not, Singapore’s only saving grace is her economy. We survive only because our economy does.”

“So why are you still opposed to materialism and consumerism?”

“It’s personal. Like I said, I just don’t believe completely in the world of senses, and I don’t draw pleasure from personal property, as I’ve said earlier. That’s all there is to it. Just because I’ve argued against something doesn’t mean that I don’t support it.”

“Since you’re so opposed to materialism and consumerism, or whatever it is, what are you going to do about it?”

“I still have my morals. I still have my beliefs. I still fight for them, and I would fight to propagate what I believe is the best course of action, for the betterment of society. Right now, this country needs a wake-up call: almost nobody knows anything about the state of affairs here, and even fewer care. By spreading the word about the problems here, then by correcting them, I would have discharged my duties as a citizen of Singapore.”

“What duties?”

“Remember the pledge? It’s our social contract to each other, to better our country. Within this contract, we have pledged to build a society based on justice and equality and all that, ‘to achieve happiness, prosperity, and progress for our nation’. If I feel that something, if adopted by the mainstream consciousness, would be beneficial to society in any or all of the ways described previously, then I would take actions to implement it. In that fashion, I have done my duty, as outlined in the pledge.”

“Ah…okay…”

Again, more silence. Her smile faded a little, as her brain sought to comprehend the entirety of what I had just said. A minute later, she took another drink. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something…”

“Go on.”

“Why do you believe in democracy?”

I took a deep breath. “Democracy is fundamentally a universal political principle, not an ideology; don’t let anybody tell you otherwise, for democracy can be applied to a spectrum of political ideologies. It is not itself an ideology, unless you add another adjective to it: direct, representative, Athenian, etc. You’d find a lot of arguments in favour of democracy online, so I won’t mention them here. Here’s something that nobody here has yet thought of, though: democracy, the principle, is system-centric. The government is a collection of people: the leader, the ministers, and their aides, all of them with their responsibilities. The State is comprised of the executive, meaning the elected leaders, the legislature, our elected lawmakers, and the judiciary, the courts and police. In a democratic system, the State is separated into these three components, each a check and balance of the other, with the constitution above all. This large spread of power makes a democracy more stable in the long run than other forms of government. Monarchism, despotism, fascism, and the like are people-centric: if the current generation of leaders were to suddenly vanish, a power vacuum remains. Contrast this to a democracy where, in the event that the leaders fall, others can step up to take their place, having that power vested in their duties.”

“Oh…okay… What’s your political opinion?”

“Seriously? Every nation must decide a political system for itself. Every generation must determine what kind of government it would want to live under. Only then would the people’s will be executed properly, for the leaders understand what the people want and need.”

“Isn’t that democracy?”

“Like I said: democracy is a universal political principle. So long as the people’s wishes are respected, and the minority is protected, I wouldn’t have a problem with most political models.”

“Hmm…tell, me, is Singapore democratic?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh? Why?”

“We have elections.”

Silence.

“Oh!” We laughed for a while. “You sure believe strongly in a lot of things, don’t you?”

“Better than believing in nothing but money. Unlike a lot of people I know.”

“True, true…”

I noticed that she had finished her drink. “Shall we go?”

“Sure.”

Together, we walked out of the bar, and into the streets. Motor vehicles passed us by, carrying people to and fro wherever. Traffic lights flashed red, yellow, and green, automaton following a pre-programmed code that would hopefully smoothen traffic flow. Pedestrians passed us by, walking, walking, walking towards wherever, away from wherever, carrying all sorts of goods or none at all, just going about their lives. Sophie lowered her sunglasses.

We walked for a while, saying nothing. Then, she said, “Aren’t you being a bit pessimistic here, about the Government, I mean.”

I turned to her. “As in?”

“Well, all you’ve said about the Government, about society…isn’t it a bit pessimistic?”

I thought for a little. Then, I replied, “It’s all about perspective.”

“Oh?”

“That’s right. Nothing in the world is objective. We see things differently, experience things differently, believe in different things, have a different hierarchy of needs. Life, to us, is subjective, for we know ourselves best, and we know that others have different beliefs. Not know what others think, we have only ourselves to count on to shape our world view; our beliefs, our experiences, our knowledge, all of them ultimately determines the paradigm through which we see the world.”

I pointed back at Starbucks. “See that? What do you see?”

“…A Starbucks?”

“You see Starbucks, I see a monument to capitalism and free market economics. I’ve explained why earlier. Because of our different beliefs and perceptions, that same Starbucks seem different to us. Ergo, we have different paradigms. When it comes to politics, my paradigm is decidedly unique from others. I can only say that; I cannot say, as yet, whether or not it is pessimistic, for pessimism is itself subjective. To you, it is pessimistic; to me, it is my perception of the world.”

“Oh…but why is nothing in the world objective?”

“There isn’t a meaning to life, or to the world, and there never will be. Is there a purpose to a sea, a mountain, or a grassy plain? No. They were all products of geography. Did you choose to exist? No. Because you didn’t choose to exist, you could not have defined your life beforehand; therefore your life has no inherent meaning. Morals are personal; therefore they are subjective. Morals aren’t black and white: the Taliban saw fit to execute women simply for exposing their faces; everywhere else, they do that all the time, without a second thought. Morals aren’t immutable, either: sex was taboo in Victorian Britain, while it is very common in modern-day England; even schoolchildren engage in it.

“Our morals are based on what we’re comfortable with. People operate on the pleasure-pain principle: if I find something difficult to do, I am not inclined to do it; if I see that it’s easy, I tend to do it. I believe that Air Force guys are the least likely to suffer post traumatic stress disorder, even though they in modern times kill hundreds or thousands more than the average infantryman. A soldier can kill just one man, but that kill would haunt him forever. Why? Because the pilot doesn’t see the target of his bombs being blown to bits, while the infantryman personally sees the effects of his attacks on the enemy soldier. From here, we can see that morals are personal: the bomber is less likely to condemn war than the soldier, having lesser exposure to the horrors of war. That’s even assuming that their comfort levels are the same, for, being different personalities and experiences, they would most probably have different comfort levels. Our individual morals are based on our unique experiences, our own way of thinking; our individual comfort levels; from these experiences we form our worldview, owned only by one person: the person who created that worldview. Because of this uniqueness, we, and only we, can decide our personal morals. Whether or not others follow is something else altogether. By virtue of being subjective, morals cannot be objective.

“Neither is culture, in fact. We in Singapore see this all the time. By being the world’s most globalised country, we come into contact with foreign cultures literally every second. Starbucks is American. That bus that just passed us by was designed by Mercedes-Benz; a German manufacturer. Tune in to MTV and you might find a Taiwanese song. There’s a Japanese sushi bar down this street. We speak English, courtesy of the British colonists, but you can find all sorts of languages and dialects spoken here.

“This promulgation of cultures, while staggering, also means something: through their variety and differences, and having existed for so long, they are all distinct. While globalisation would tend towards a single world culture, there would always be differences. You, for example, despite having spent a quarter of your life in Australia, still slip into Singlish now and then. It’s ingrained in you, since you were young.

“Since these cultures have remained intact, they have shown that there is not one ‘best’ culture, at least as yet, and no dominant culture, despite westernisation. If you don’t like a culture of a particular country, then you can hop on a plane and fly to another, whose culture suits you better. It can be done; the era of globalisation has made transmigration possible. Because of this, culture, or at least perception of it, too, is subjective. Because of this subjectivity, it, too, cannot be objective.”

I paused to take a breath.

“Got all that?”

“…Er…yeah…kinda.”

“Right. Point is, everything is subjective, as nothing in the world has an inherent meaning.”

“Isn’t that depressing?”

“Yes. The nihilist position always is. It is a worldview that states that all is false. Once we recognise that there is no inherent meaning to life, to everything, we can then go about creating our own worldviews. Through our actions, we define our essence, our being, on a minute-by-minute basis. Through the capacity to make decisions, we are free, and we are condemned to be free. Not only this, but as human beings, we have the capacity to be responsible for our actions; indeed, by taking these actions alone, we alone are responsible for these deeds. Because of this, we have angst, anguish, effectively recognition of both responsibility and freedom.

“But by going beyond the nihilist stance, by turning our lives into one of action, through defining ourselves through our actions, we effectively overcome nihilism, and be better men…almost like the Nietzschean Übermencsh, in fact. From there, we create a worldview that suits us, as individuals.”

“But who can?”

“Well…Nietzsche said that only a few people could become one. These individuals, among other things, are noted for being individualists, rejecting all conventional morals and constructing their own, and, most importantly, for possessing what he termed der Wille zur Macht.”

“What’s that?”

“The will to power. Basically, force of will and the desire to dominate. That person must have the will to fight for what he believes in, using it to destroy old beliefs, create new ones, and from there overcome the wills of others, effectively dominating them. It has been postulated, in fact, that the philosophies of the world were themselves individual forces attempting to gain dominance, supported by their proponents’ will to power.”

“Any examples in real life?”

“Minister Mentor Lee Kwan Yew.”

“…What?”

“That’s right. It must be remembered that, despite his shortcomings, he had effectively transformed Singapore into what you see today. He had a powerful vision, razor-sharp intellect, and incredible foresight. Most importantly, he exercised his will to power. He got to the top through co-opting, then expelling, the communists; he systematically eliminated as much political dissent as he could; he rammed through a series of plans and policies that shaped Singapore into what she is now. Through dominating his opponents and opposition, then by taking action to further his vision, he had effectively used his will to power to define himself, and by extension, Singapore.”

“Wait…why ‘define himself, and by extension, Singapore’?”

“According to Sartre, we live our lives as we would live, and how we want others to live. Should we become a dominating force, then we would attempt to impress upon others, to a greater or lesser degree, our way of living on them. Therefore, Singapore back then was an extension of Lee’s will, and Lee’s definition of himself and his ideal life. Whether or not he realised that is not known, but that’s how I see things.”

“Hmm…but he did get in through the democratic process, no? And he still abides by it, right? Isn’t that a hindrance to the will to power, then? Doesn’t it allow competition to develop, which would allow the wills of other people to battle for supremacy?”

“That’s right, and wrong. Remember that one of the tenants of the will to power is dominance, and another is its discharge of strength. In a perfectly democratic system, the wills of every person is given an equal chance to compete with each other. This means that the strongest will would ultimately prevail, not unlike Darwin’s survival of the fittest. Contrast this with a dictatorial system, where even a weak will can be at the top, for it is given an advantage that increases its chances of survival compared to other, more powerful wills. It all depends on what you value: if you want the best will, then you might try a more democratic model; if you want your will to dominate, you might tend towards authoritarian/totalitarianism.”

“Erm…do you have an example?”

I fished out my wallet, removing a purple two-dollar polymer note. “See this? Money is democratic par excellence. The monetary system is completely democratic at its core, belonging only to its owner at the current moment. If I have it, it is mine. If I give it to you, it is yours. Having paid some money to Starbucks, it is theirs.

“Now, let’s apply the will to power. You can take my money if you want. I can always attempt to retain it. What happens next is a struggle for my money, the outcome of which is based on decisions you and I have made, as well as the struggle of our wills. If my will is powerful enough, I may be able to keep my money. But if yours is, you might be able to take it. Other decisions, made through exercising one’s free will and one’s will to power, can make the difference: I could avoid you, for example. In a dictatorial system, I might give myself an overwhelming edge against you to prevent you from taking my money, like holding a gun to your head and telling you to back off or else.

“Now, let’s apply it to the commercial setting. For Starbucks, it can attempt to take my money through selling coffee, perhaps attempting to influence me through advertising. However, if my will is strong enough, I can resist it, and not give my money to Starbucks. I can even choose not to go into Starbucks, for that matter.

“Politically, where it is the most relevant in this context, we again see the wills to power at work. Politicians, for example, want to sway voters to vote for them. They are therefore trying to dominate and subvert their wills, in their favour. They do this through lobbying for some issues, or smearing the other side, or whatever. On the voters’ level, they exercise their will to power through resisting some ideology, or supporting another. This is decidedly more difficult, owing to the herd mentality present in crowds. While in power, they take action to implement their vision for the country, by arguing for and against particular courses of action, in the hopes of having these policies adopted or rejected.”

“Whoa…cheem…”

“Deep? Well, you’ll see. Someday.”

“Yeah…hopefully.”

“Heh.”

We walked on in silence for a while. Then, quite abruptly, she spoke up. “Why did you say all this? Why did you give so many long lectures on philosophy and the like, in relation to Singapore? Not that I mind, it’s just that nobody does.”

I shrugged. “Because nobody does. Nobody takes the time to think about things any more, at least in Singapore. We’re so caught up chasing the consumerist ideal that we don’t stop to think about why we’re doing this, why we’re doing that…then along comes some guy who stops to think, realises that something’s wrong, and decides that its his duty to tell people all this.”

She smiled. “Meaning, you?”

“Heh, why not? Not that people care; they’re so comfortable in their ignorance that they do not want to know the truth. It would shatter their beliefs, take them to the stage of nihilism, to the limits of their comfort, to the edge of the morals and the foundations for them. Like the prisoners of Plato’s cave, they would want to remain in the darkness of ignorance, and set upon those who try to reveal the truth, instead of wanting to go out there and find out the truth. After all, their worldviews are so entrenched that they’ve seen it as the truth.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Of course not. You’re quite the opposite, actually.”

“Heh, thanks.”

I shrugged. “‘Sophie’ is Greek for ‘wisdom’.”

She chuckled. “Really? Am I wise, now?”

“It’s up to you to decide, and determine; I can’t make you wise.”

She chuckled even more. “Why do you consider it your duty to inform others?”

“I don’t know…just, a feeling perhaps, that I should not allow myself to know all this while others are ignorant. It might be my decision. It is also equally likely that we are both characters in a story, meant to showcase the connection between Singapore and philosophy, having no identities beyond what had been constructed for us. We might not, for example, have an identity beyond what has been described; no background beyond what has been provided and what can be inferred.”

“So…we might not even be deciding for ourselves what we want to be?”

“…I don’t know,” I admitted. “The question of free will has yet to be cracked. It is one of the last great riddles in philosophy that has yet to be fully answered…and is almost irrelevant to this discussion. I am, however, inclined to believe that there is a version of free will.”

“Why’s that?”

“If every nation has a preordained fate, then is there a necessity to even do something? A higher power would sort it all out for us; we don’t even need to do anything. However, if we choose to do nothing, then this higher power, no matter what it does, cannot bring the nation to bring about its fate, short of controlling the minds of everyone. We can transfer this to the individual: we may all have a fate, but we can’t fulfil it if we spend all day in bed, doing nothing at all. Through inaction, we can subvert our fates. Perhaps, therefore, through action, we might yet have a means to overcome a possible destiny by creating one for ourselves, through free will.”

“Oh…what if there were free will?”

“What if there were? Then I’d exercise my will to power, too. As a citizen of this country, I intend to have a part in shaping the future of this country. Perhaps through participation in politics, writing philosophical tracts, that sort of thing. By doing so, I would be able to contribute to the great scheme of things, and perhaps propel this country to enlightenment, of sorts. And if free will were to extend to destiny, it is also equally likely that we might be able to subvert our fate, and create our own destiny.”

“What if there weren’t free will?”

“Then there isn’t, and nothing we do can change it. All we can do is march along to the beat of someone else’s drum. At least, until we find a way to break out of it. It depends on the extent of control, really: are we free to think and act? Are we free to go as we please? Or has everything been laid out for each of us, every thought, word, or action? How do we even know what we are being controlled? It could, after all, be as subtle as the best propaganda in existence: it is there, but we don’t know that it is there, and are controlled by it. If we don’t know about it, then we can’t change it. It’s that simple.”

“But isn’t that being pessimistic?”

“It could also be realistic. It depends on your paradigm.”

“Heh. So you’re effectively working towards enlightenment, then?”

“Well, why not? This country knows much, but has very little wisdom. Like I said, I find it my duty to enlighten the people, to drag them out of the cave of shadows.”

“What if people oppose you?”

“So what if they do? So what if they think materialism is the best, or that I’m wrong? I’d be more afraid if people don’t oppose me; it merely means that they’re not thinking. Remember that for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction, even outside physics. You just need to search for it.”

“Well, great minds think alike.”

“And fools seldom differ,” I ended. “Who’s to say that I’m not a fool, if nobody disagrees?”

“…Oh… One last question, before my brain shuts down?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you care so much? Why do you want to do all this for Singapore?”

“I don’t know.” The honesty in my voice was more apparent than it should have been.

“Why?”

“There is simply no reason to be a patriot. You see all the nonsense about Singapore being our home, worth fighting for, and so on? It’s just that: nonsense. If I don’t feel like staying in Singapore, I can emigrate, and that is that. The bureaucracy of Singapore can’t stop me. The freedoms and rights accorded to the people, by the Western tradition, have been compromised, through the lawsuits and whatnot described above. Singapore has no distinct culture: we are a profusion of cultures. Here, in this globalised city-state, you see Western culture, somewhere else you see Asian culture; hell, the four official races of Singapore, Chinese, Malay, Indian, and Others, all have their own distinct cultures. There is not one thing that unites as all as Singaporean, apart from our present geographical location, our passports, and our identification cards. And I’ve already found myself at odds with the societal worldview and moral basis.

“I’d say it’s out of a sense of duty, a duty to the people, to push them forward, to take them to the light, to dispel ignorance, to better myself. It could, perhaps, even simply be a desire to execute my will to power, by pushing forward my views to the masses, in the hopes of them being adopted. And maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to define myself in the process.”

“Gee, doesn’t that make you an Übermensch?”

I grimaced. “Hah!”

Author’s note (better known as covering my arse): I have tried to make this essay as clear as possible; hope you can understand. If any arguments seem shallow, I apologise; I couldn’t find a way to expand on them while keeping them relevant. Everything, literally, is up to interpretation. The economics stuff was based on my notes. Singapore’s materialist worldview is based on general consensus. The stuff I said about Singapore is true, where historical fact is concerned, to the best of my knowledge. The connections to philosophy are based on personal observation. All beliefs are personal. The comment on being sued is based on cynical general opinion, which might even be true. As students of philosophy might have guessed, the existentialism expounded here is based on the writings of Sartre, the nihilism influenced by Nietzsche; this is important considering the different branches of these philosophies. The problem of free will here, in much simplified format, is a synthesis of both the theological and philosophical points of view; going into more detail would risk going off track. If anybody wishes to discuss this, go ahead and leave a review, drop me an e-mail, etc. No flames or spam, or they will be deleted forthwith.

Proofread by the Deep, Typewriter King, and Terence Tan.