15.8.11

25. Ancient Thought

(All extracts below are from the book Ancient Chinese Thought, Modern Chinese Power by Yan Xuetong)

An Examination of Research Theory  Yang Qianru

In terms of monarchy, the common understanding of history is that from the Western Zhou until the end of the Eastern Zhou there was only one actual state, that of the Zhou king, and all the princely states were feudal dependencies of the Zhou Son of Heaven and hence belonged to the Zhou royal house and could not be considered as independent states in their own right. But the historical reality is that from the eighth to the third century BCE the hold of the Zhou king was gradually relaxed. The Zhou court’s overall grasp and authority were constantly weakened so that from the Western Zhou feudal era on, it no longer had the means to carry out its role of upholding the political order and system of power. In the Spring and Autumn Period (eighth to sixth century BCE), several large princely states already had two basic features of the modern “state”: sovereignty and territory. Not only did the states have independent and autonomous sovereignty, they also had very clear borders. By the time of the Warring States Period (fifth to third century BCE), states proliferated and entered into several centuries of competition to unify all under heaven under their own rule, while the Zhou royal domain sank to the level of a small, weak state. Hence, some scholars think that the way in which the various princely states gave feudal homage to the Zhou king as their common lord from the eighth to the third century BCE was rather like the relationship of the members of today’s Commonwealth to Great Britain. They accept the Queen as head of the Commonwealth but enjoy equal and independent status along with Great Britain. In a PhD dissertation from the War Strategies Faculty of the International University titled “The Politics of State Alliances in the Spring and Autumn and Warring States Period,” Zhou Yi describes the states of this period as “politically behaved bodies.” This description is more accurate than the term states.

Bearing this in mind, I think that the name “pre-Qin interstate political philosophy” is acceptable on academic grounds and is appropriate because the pre-Qin states--following the decline of the Western Zhou feudal system and the destruction of the previous harmony and balanced order between the Zhou royal house and the various states, from the Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn era to the Seven Powers of the Warring States up until the “great unification” of the Qin-Han--on the grounds of protecting their own security, sought to develop and resolve the relationships among themselves and the central royal house and thus they accumulated a rich and prolific experience in politics and diplomacy. This complicated and complex political configuration created the space for scholarship to look at the international system, state relations, and interstate political philosophy. The pre-Qin masters wrote books and advanced theories trying to sell to the rulers their ideas on how to run the state and conduct diplomacy and military strategy while they played major roles in advocating strategies of becoming either a humane ruler or a hegemon, making either vertical (North-South) or horizontal (East-West) alliances, or either creating alliances or going to war. Scholars who have researched the history of thought have looked only at one side and emphasized the value of pre-Qin masters’ thought as theory (philosophical, historical, or political), whereas most of these ideas were used to serve practical political and diplomatic purposes among the states. Their effectiveness both then and now is proven. Therefore, there is no doubt about the positive and practical role of researching the foreign relations, state politics, and military strategies of the pre-Qin classics or of applying the insights gleaned from studying these masters to international political thought by gathering together, from out of several thousand years of the legacy of historical culture, a specifically Chinese wisdom of theoretical principles and ways of thinking with a view to guiding current research and combining this with China’s present rise and its diplomatic strategy.

The Two Poles of Confucianism  Xu Jin

Areas of Agreement

Like Xunzi, Mencius sets his analytical level not at that of the state but rather at that of the individual. In his analysis, the nature of the state is only a mediating variable. The basic cause that determines the nature of the state is the ruler. A given type of ruler leads to a given type of state. A ruler who implements humane authority will have a humane state, whereas a ruler who implements hegemony will have a hegemonic state. In this way, the ruler himself will ultimately shape and determine the features of the entire international system. Mencius and Xunzi had good reasons for doing their analysis at the individual level. A state is a political organization formed by human beings. In the linguistic system of contemporary international relations theory, idioms such as a state thinks or a state decides use the word state synecdochically. In fact, a state itself cannot think or decide. It has no way of acting. What can think, decide, and act are the people in the state, especially the ruler. Therefore, Mencius thinks that the ruler and the state are of the same nature. Often in his writings he refers to the ruler in place of the state, as for instance, “O King, if you should but implement benevolent governance for the people,” or “if the king goes to punish them, who will oppose the king?” or if the ruler of the state likes benevolence, he will have no enemies in all under heaven.” In fact, it is not the ruler himself who has no enemies in all under heaven; it is rather the state, which the ruler who likes benevolence represents.

Xunzi is a conceptual determinist whereas Mencius is a conceptual determinist with a tendency toward dialectic. They both think that the persons of the ruler and the ministers are the original motivation for all state conduct. Mencius’s dialectical tendency lies in his denial that force has any importance to a state that aspires to humane authority. But he recognizes the important role of force to any state that aspires to hegemony. He says, “Using force and pretending to benevolence is the hegemon. The hegemon will certainly have a large state. Using virtue and practicing benevolence is the sage king. The sage king does not rely on having a large territory. Tang had seventy square kilometers and King Wen had a hundred square kilometers. Should you make people submit to force rather than to the heart, force will never suffice; should you make people submit to virtue, they will heartily rejoice and sincerely follow, as the seventy disciples followed Confucius.” This passage says that to become a hegemon a state must be large and powerful, whereas to become a humane authority a state relies not on military force but on the attractive force of morality, which causes other states readily and sincerely to submit and come to the king. Furthermore, Mencius even more than Xunzi points out clearly that it is enough to rely on the will of the ruler and the ministers. Their firm determination can affect a rapid change from hegemon to humane ruler or from humane ruler to hegemon. Mencius encourages King Xuan of Qi to implement royal government by saying, “Hence the ruler is not a humane ruler because he does not act as one, not because he cannot.”

Points of Partial Similarity

On hegemony Xunzi and Mencius part company. Xunzi thinks that humane authority is the ideal form of power and hence deserves being promoted, whereas tyranny is the worst form of power and hence should be opposed. He has no moral reaction to hegemony nor is he opposed to its existence. On the contrary, he implicitly supposes that a hegemonic state must have a considerable degree of morality even if its morality falls far short of that of a humane authority. He says,

Although virtue may not be up to the mark or norms fully realized, yet when the principle of all under heaven is somewhat gathered together, punishments and rewards are already trusted by all under heaven, all below the ministers know what they can expect. Once administrative commands are made plain, even if one sees one’s chance for gain defeated, yet there is no cheating the people; contracts are already sealed, even if one sees one’s chance for gain defeated, yet there is no cheating one’s partners. If it is so, then the troops will be strong and the town will be firm and enemy states will tremble in fear. Once it is clear the state stands united, your allies will trust you. Even if you have a remote border state, your reputation will cause all under heaven to quiver. Such were the Five Lords. Hence Huan of Qi, Wen of Jin, Zhuang of Chu, Helu of Wu, and Goujian of Yue all had states that were on the margin, yet they overawed all under heaven and their strength overpowered the central states. There was no other reason for this but that they had strategic reliability. This is to attain hegemony by establishing strategic reliability.
This passage means that even if the morality of a hegemonic state is not perfect, it understands the basic moral norms of this world. The domestic and international policy of a hegemonic state must take as its principle reliability in its strategies. Domestically it should not cheat the people and externally it should not cheat its allies.

Mencius also thinks that humane authority is the ideal form of international power and most worth aspiring to, but he is vehemently opposed to hegemony. He thinks that even if a hegemonic state succeeds in dominating the whole world, its span will be brief and illegitimate and it will not win the support of many countries because a hegemonic state “uses force to subdue people.” The biggest problem with using force to subdue people is that the states that follow one “will not follow from their hearts, but because their strength is insufficient,” and therefore they will look for opportunity to rebel. Moreover, although hegemons’ false benevolence, fake justice, and paucity of goodness may allow them to cheat people for a while, it cannot be forever. The result of their lack of benevolence will become apparent and as a consequence they will lose the minds of the people and end up losing hegemony. Mencius goes on to say that a state that seeks hegemony for itself risks its own security, because that type of state must practice hegemonic government and this requires seeking profit in everything, and seeking profit in everything will upset the orthodox order of society. He says, “If ministers serve their prince with an eye to profit and sons serve their fathers with an eye to profit and younger brothers serve their older brothers with an eye to profit, so you end up expelling benevolence and justice between rulers and ministers, fathers and sons, and older and younger brothers and all draw close to one another with an eye to profit, such a society has never avoided collapse.” Furthermore, promoting hegemonic government will make all large states yours enemies and they will fight with your allies. This requires an expenditure of state force and is a threat to the life and property of the people. Mencius uses the example of King Hui of Liang pursuing profit alone with the result that the power of his state went into decline to explain that profit is a danger to the state and the ordinary people. He says, ”For the sake of territory. King Hui of Liang trampled his people to pulp and took them to war. He suffered a great defeat but returned again only fearful that he would not win so he urged on the son whom he loved and buried him along with the dead. This is what is called ‘starting with what one does not love and going on to what one does love.’” Thus, he concludes, “The three dynasties acquired all under heaven by benevolence and they lost it through lack of benevolence. This is the reason why states decline or flourish, rise or fall. If the Son of Heaven is not benevolence, he cannot retain what is within the four seas. If feudal lords are not benevolent they cannot retain the altars of soil and grain.”

Points of Difference


Understanding of State Power

Although Mencius and Xunzi both emphasize the importance of political power and acknowledge it as the primary factor in state power, they have different opinions about the degree of importance of political power. Mencius greatly respects political power and depreciates the importance of economic and military power, whereas Xunzi thinks that all three are necessary, but political power is the foundation for the exercise of economic and military power.

The difference in view of Mencius and Xunzi on the issue of state power may be owing to a difference in political philosophy. Mencius is a pure ethical idealist who believes that for the state to simply seek material goods, especially to raise its military power, is harmful. He uses the example of King Hui of Liang, who set his sights purely on profit, as quoted earlier. In contrast, a state that seeks benevolence and justice can attain humane authority over all under heaven and will have no enemies at all.

Mencius argues,

With a territory of a hundred square kilometers, it is possible to be king. O King, if you should implement benevolent governance for the people, reduce punishments, lighten taxes and duties, allowing for deeper plowing and ensuring that weeding is well done, then the fit will spend their holidays practicing filial piety, brotherly affection, loyalty, and constancy. At home they will serve their parents and elders; outside they will serve their masters; then they can but take wooden staves in hand and attack the armored troops of Qin [in the northwest] and Chu [in the south], whose rulers steal their people’s time so that they are not able to plow or hoe to support their parents. Their parents freeze and starve; their brothers, wives, and children are dispersed. They set pitfalls for their people or drown them. If the king goes punish them, who will oppose the king? Thus it is said, “The benevolent has no enemies.”
This is to say that a state that speaks of benevolence and justice and implements benevolent government will be united internally. Political motivation will be strong. In contrast, a state that speaks of gain and implements hegemonic government will be rent apart internally and its political motivation will be weak. In a conflict between a king and a hegemon, the king can win without a fight.

The Origin of Conflict

Xunzi believes that human nature is evil and Mencius believes that it is good. Their viewpoints are diametrically opposed, and this leads them to equally opposed views about the origin of conflict. Xunzi thinks that there is no end to desires and that material goods cannot satisfy them. Since desires cannot be satisfied, people will go on seeking more. This quest will never end and hence it will give rise to competition, which will continue and break out in violent conflict. He says, “When man is born he has desires. Though desires are unfulfilled, yet he cannot but seek. If he seeks, and has no limits set, then he cannot but conflict with others. If he conflicts with others there will be disorder, and if there is disorder there will be poverty.”

First, Mencius thinks, not that human nature is originally good, but that human beings have a natural inclination toward the good, that is, that they have an a prior basis for being good. These naturally good tendencies need to be directed, educated, and fostered before they can be fully expressed--that is, nature may move toward goodness and hence the goodness of human nature is a process. Mencius says, “It is no surprise the king is not wise. Although there are plants in the world that grow easily, yet with one day of sunshine and ten days of frost, they will not be able to grow. I see you very rarely, and the moment I leave the Jack Frost come. I may bring out some buds, but to what good?” That is, even though the king has the seeds of goodness in his heart, yet they cannot grow properly with one day of violence or ten of cold. This is especially so when Mencius leaves, since the people who lead the king to fall into injustice (the frost) will gather around him and egg him on to do wrong. Therefore, Mencius’s theory of goodness of human nature says, not that human nature is originally good, but that the heart has seeds of goodness, which may be developed to do good.”

Ways to Resolve International Conflict


Xunzi thinks that increasing the material goods and wealth of a society will not resolve the conflict that may arise between people, because human desires will increase along with the increases in wealth and will continue to rise. He advocates using the rationality of the mind to control desires, and he believes that the way to strengthen the rationality of the human mind is to establish social norms (rites). Norms can make human desires reasonable and can also increase the capacity for satisfaction. When desires decrease and the capacity for satisfaction increases, then the two will easily come into balance. Moreover, norms can also distinguish social classes, so people will act according to the norms proper to their class and thus avoid conflict arising. Xunzi’s reliance on external forces to suppress conflict is at one with his philosophical theory of the evil of human nature.

Mencius’s resolution of international conflict is quite different from Xunzi’s. Since he advocates the goodness of human nature, Mencius believes that the idea of goodness in the human mind will ultimately overcome evil desires. Of course, Mencius believes in the effectiveness of “rites” in suppressing conflict between people, but he is faced with a world in which “rites are dethroned and music is bad.” Therefore, the first thing to be done is to restore the ritual order. Hence he proposes a two-step strategy. The first step is to use persuasion and education to influence the rulers so that the goodness in their minds will suppress the evil. As for who can carry out this task, Mencius believes that it is worthy people like himself. Therefore, Mencius spent his life going from state to state (he visited Zou, Lu, Qi, Wei, and Tang). On his arrival he would first preach to the rulers the way of benevolence and justice with the aim of transforming them from their tendency to ”talk of profit rather than talk of justice.” Through education, he would form and enlighten the goodness of their minds so that the inherent nature of benevolence, justice, rites, and wisdom would shine out and so that benevolent government would lay a foundation for thought.

Xunzi lived at the end of the Warring States Period. By that time, Qin had already become the undisputed hegemon and had the power to unify China. Hence, the key political question then was in what way Qin would unify all under heaven. The previous unified world (all under heaven) had been the feudal system of the Western Zhou. Since this system had been idealized by Confucius and other Confucians as the system of Five Services, and its creation ascribed to King Wu of the Zhou and the duke of Zhou, Xunzi was bound to uphold this form of unified world.

Mencius lived in the mid-Warring States era. This was a time when the various states were in chaos and no one state could come to the fore and emerge as a hegemon, as Qin would later do. Mencius also hoped for unity in all under heaven and for a return to the feudal system of the Western Zhou, but given the conditions of international politics in his time it was very difficult to realize this hope. Hence although Mencius himself was confident about this goal, he had to realize that his duty at the time was to make people wake up and stop chaotic war. This can be seen in his dialogue with King Hui of Liang:

Suddenly he asked me, “How can all under heaven be calmed?”
I replied, “It can be calmed by being united.”
“Who can unite it?”
I replied, “One who does not like killing others can unite it.”
“Who can give it to him?”
I replied, “There is nobody in all under heaven who will not give it to him.”
This exchange shows that Mencius was very busy trying to put the idea of benevolence and justice into the ruler’s mind and trying hard to form one ruler or several who could stop international wars. It was not yet the time for establishing international norms, since if peoples’ minds were not first correct, then even if there were norms in place no one would want to implement them with any sincerity.

Political Hegemony in Ancient China  Wang Rihua

The Basic Structure of Political Hegemony

The theory of political hegemony holds that the core factor of hegemony is political power, and the heart of political power is the ability of the government to govern the state and its influence. According to the summary in chapter 3, the hegemonic theory in The Stratagems of the Warring States holds that “political power is the core of hegemonic power.” Moreover, in the discussion of military power and geographical factors as against political power, it stresses the importance of political power: “Rely on politics; do not rely on courage.” Yan and Huang go on to point out that “the merits and leadership of the ruler and chief ministers are frequently seen as the core factors in hegemonic political power.” Political power is expressed mainly in two aspects: the first is the leadership, or, better, the ability to govern, of the government; the second is the virtue and self-cultivation of the important officials in the government and the political influence that flows from this.

The theory of political hegemony holds that the government’s ability to govern, especially that of the ruler and important ministers, determines the fate of the hegemony. Mozi points out, “Huan of Qi was influenced by Guan Zhong and Bao Shu; Wen of Jin was influenced by Jiu Fan and Gao Yan; Zhuang of Chu was influenced by Sun Shu and Shen Yi; Helu of Wu was influenced by Wu Yuan and Wen Yi; Goujian of Yue as influenced by Fan Li and Minister Zhong. What these five princes were influenced by was correct, and so they held hegemony over the feudal lords. Their deeds and fame was passed down to later generations. When Bao Shuya recommends Guan Zhong as prime minister, he says, “You, O Prince, wish to be a hegemonic king; without Guan Yiwu, it is not possible.” After Guan Zhong had become the prime minister of Qi, he did indeed help Qi to establish hegemony. Confucius also acknowledged that “Guan Zhong served Duke Huan, who was hegemon over the feudal lords.” And, “Duke Huan gathered the feudal lords from nine directions not by troops and chariots but by the strength of Guan Zhong.” On the contrary, the economic and military power of Qin were both the best, yet the reason Qin was unable to be hegemon was in part because of “the clumsiness of its ministers in charge of planning.” Therefore, the theory of political hegemony proposes “worthy princes and enlightened prime ministers,” and firmly believes that “when the worthy person is present, then all under heaven submits; and in the use of one person, all under heaven will obey.”

Political hegemony stresses that moral influence is of capital importance. Moral influence comes from the merit and self-cultivation of the ruler and his important chief ministers and the policies that derive from this. Virtuous conduct is the basic requirement of the lord of the covenants, or rather of the hegemonic lord: “A great state determines by justice and thereby becomes the lord of the covenants.” And, “Without virtue how can one be lord of the covenants?” Duke Huan of Qi “relieved poverty, and paid the worthy and capable” and undertook to “examine our borders, return seized territory; correct the border marks” and to “not accept their money or wealth.” In this way he secured the hegemony for Qi. Duke Wen of Jin “revised his administration and spread grace on the ordinary people” and in this way realized the hegemony for Jin. Qin had a wealthy state and a strong army but, because the virtue of Duke Mu of Qin was inferior, in Qin “laws and commands were constantly issued.” “Laws was severe and lacking in mercy, only relying on coercion to keep people submissive.” Therefore, “it is fitting that Mu of Qin did not become lord of the covenants. Political hegemony holds that fidelity is the most important constituent component of moral influence: “fidelity so as to implement justice; justice so as to implement decrees.” Xunzi notes, “Huan of Qi, Wen of Jin, Zhuang of Chu, Helu of Wu, and Goujian of Yue all had states that were on the margins, yet they overawed all under heaven and their strength overpowered the central states. There was no other reason for this but that they had strategic reliability. This is to attain hegemony by establishing strategic reliability.”

The theory of political hegemony does not exclude the necessary of material power. The international political philosophy of ancient China held that power that was material in nature and influence that was moral in nature were two basic aspects that constituted power: “The means by which Jin became a hegemon was the military tactics of its generals and the strength of its ministers.” Also Mencius says, “Using force and pretending to benevolence is the hegemon. The hegemon will certainly have a large state.” Hence, “for a state to maintain its hegemonic status, equal emphasis must be given to virtue, awe, and fidelity.”

The formation of political influence is a hierarchical process. Ancient China’s international political philosophy and contemporary Western international relations theory both stress the use of hierarchical analysis to observe and analyze the world, and construct a theory of world politics. The difference between them is that in ancient China’s international political philosophy there were four levels of analysis: the individual, the household, the state and the world. Amony these four levels there exists a hierarchy and a relationship of cause and effect; thus

Cultivate yourself, manage your family, administer the state, and bring peace to all under heaven.
Of old those who wished to make their bright virtue shine in all under heaven first administered their state. Those who wished to administer their state first managed their family. Those who wished to manage their family first cultivated their person.
Or again, “When you have cultivated yourself, then manage your family; when your family is managed, then administer the state; when the state is administered, then all under heaven is at peace.” Different levels of material power and their corresponding levels of morality determine the levels of power in the international political system. In the Spring and Autumn Period, after Qi had attained hegemony. Duke Huan of Qi hoped to go one step further and develop to the level of humane authority. Hence he says to Guan Zhong, “I wanted to be a hegemon and, thanks to the efforts of you and your companions, I have become a hegemon. Now I want to be sage king. It is possible.” Guan Zhong and his fellow ministers tactfully tell the duke that since his virtue has not yet reached the level of a sage king, Qi could not realize humane authority. Duke Huan therefore renounces pursuit of human authority and remains content with hegemony.

A Realist Scholar  Lu Xin

Academic Stance

Lu Xin: Some people describe you as a specialist in making predictions on international questions. Which are the occasions you are most proud of?

Yan Xuetong: I predicted Lee Tenghui would go from covert to overt support for a policy of independence for Taiwan. I predicted that the Kuomintang would be defeated and Chen Shui-bian would be elected. I predicted he would be rejected for a second term in office. I predicted that Pakistan would certainly carry out a nuclear test in response to India’s. In 1997, I predicted that the Clinton government would not agree to restoring reciprocal state visits between China and the United States. In 2005, I predicted that Sino-Japanese relations would continue to deteriorate. When I moved to Tsinghua University, I began to make quantitative predictions and the percentage of my predictions that were correct rose.

I think that predicting is especially enjoyable and very challenging. A forecaster must constantly keep an eye on shifts in circumstances, always worrying what to do if he is wrong and ready to analysis why he is wrong, so people are always kept on their toes. It is a little like playing the stock market. The difference is that there is no material benefit involved, only mental enjoyment. Using scientific, quantitative prediction methods allows us constantly to increase the accuracy of our predictions. Our current quantitative predictions have already reached world-class level, especially in our method of quantitative assessment of bilateral relationships. Our work can stand alongside that of others in the world.

Lu Xin: You seem to be particularly enthusiastic speaking about this issue. Maybe it has something to do with your personality. You like being challenged.

Yan Xuetong: This may be wherein the special feature of international relations studies lies. To study international relations means to predict the developing trends in the international situation. Everybody judges you on whether your predictions are accurate or not. The predictions are objective and are a most plausible proof. Making public predictions is a risky business. Making public predictions about the international situation is a bit like adults playing games--it is real and enjoyable. Especially so when we use scientific methods to make a prediction. According to the results we can summarize the experience of our method and improve our method of prediction. It is especially meaningful to invent a method of research, just as interesting as inventing a new weapon.

Observation

(Extract from the book Ancient Chinese Thought, Modern Chinese Power)

Political hegemony stresses that moral influence is of capital importance. Moral influence comes from the merit and self-cultivation of the ruler and his important chief ministers and the policies that derive from this. Virtuous conduct is the basic requirement of the lord of the covenants, or rather of the hegemonic lord: “A great state determines by justice and thereby becomes the lord of the covenants.” And, “Without virtue how can one be lord of the covenants?” Duke Huan of Qi “relieved poverty, and paid the worthy and capable” and undertook to “examine our borders, return seized territory; correct the border marks” and to “not accept their money or wealth.” In this way he secured the hegemony for Qi. Duke Wen of Jin “revised his administration and spread grace on the ordinary people” and in this way realized the hegemony for Jin. Qin had a wealthy state and a strong army but, because the virtue of Duke Mu of Qin was inferior, in Qin “laws and commands were constantly issued.” “Laws was severe and lacking in mercy, only relying on coercion to keep people submissive.” Therefore, “it is fitting that Mu of Qin did not become lord of the covenants. Political hegemony holds that fidelity is the most important constituent component of moral influence: “fidelity so as to implement justice; justice so as to implement decrees.” Xunzi notes, “Huan of Qi, Wen of Jin, Zhuang of Chu, Helu of Wu, and Goujian of Yue all had states that were on the margins, yet they overawed all under heaven and their strength overpowered the central states. There was no other reason for this but that they had strategic reliability. This is to attain hegemony by establishing strategic reliability.”

25. Non-Negotiable

The Observer

‘Reason is non-negotiable’: Steven Pinker on the Enlightenment

In an extract from his new book Enlightenment Now, the Harvard psychologist extols the relevance of 18th-century thinking

What is enlightenment? In a 1784 essay with that question as its title, Immanuel Kant answered that it consists of “humankind’s emergence from its self-incurred immaturity”, its “lazy and cowardly” submission to the “dogmas and formulas” of religious or political authority. Enlightenment’s motto, he proclaimed, is: “Dare to understand!” and its foundational demand is freedom of thought and speech.

What is the Enlightenment? There is no official answer, because the era named by Kant’s essay was never demarcated by opening and closing ceremonies like the Olympics, nor are its tenets stipulated in an oath or creed. The Enlightenment is conventionally placed in the last two thirds of the 18th century, though it flowed out of the Scientific Revolution and the Age of Reason in the 17th century and spilled into the heyday of classical liberalism of the first half of the 19th. Provoked by challenges to conventional wisdom from science and exploration, mindful of the bloodshed of recent wars of religion, and abetted by the easy movement of ideas and people, the thinkers of the Enlightenment sought a new understanding of the human condition. The era was a cornucopia of ideas, some of them contradictory, but four themes tie them together: reason, science, humanism and progress.

Foremost is reason. Reason is non-negotiable. As soon as you show up to discuss the question of what we should believe (or any other question), as long as you insist that your answers, whatever they are, are reasonable or justified or true and that therefore other people ought to believe them too, then you have committed yourself to reason, and to holding your beliefs accountable to objective standards.

If there’s anything the Enlightenment thinkers had in common, it was an insistence that we energetically apply the standard of reason to understanding our world, and not fall back on generators of delusion like faith, dogma, revelation, authority, charisma, mysticism, divination, visions, gut feelings or the hermeneutic parsing of sacred texts.

Many writers today confuse the Enlightenment endorsement of reason with the implausible claim that humans are perfectly rational agents. Nothing could be further from historical reality. Thinkers such as Kant, Baruch Spinoza, Thomas Hobbes, David Hume and Adam Smith were inquisitive psychologists and all too aware of our irrational passions and foibles. They insisted that it was only by calling out the common sources of folly that we could hope to overcome them. The deliberate application of reason was necessary precisely because our common habits of thought are not particularly reasonable.

That leads to the second ideal, science, the refining of reason to understand the world. That includes an understanding of ourselves. The Scientific Revolution was revolutionary in a way that is hard to appreciate today, now that its discoveries have become second nature to most of us.

The need for a “science of man” was a theme that tied together Enlightenment thinkers who disagreed about much else, including Montesquieu, Hume, Smith, Kant, Nicolas de Condorcet, Denis Diderot, Jean-Baptiste d’Alembert, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and Giambattista Vico. Their belief that there was such a thing as universal human nature, and that it could be studied scientifically, made them precocious practitioners of sciences that would be named only centuries later. They were cognitive neuroscientists, who tried to explain thought, emotion and psychopathology in terms of physical mechanisms of the brain. They were evolutionary psychologists, who sought to characterise life in a state of nature and to identify the animal instincts that are “infused into our bosoms”. They were social psychologists, who wrote of the moral sentiments that draw us together, the selfish passions that divide us and the foibles of shortsightedness that confound our best-laid plans. And they were cultural anthropologists, who mined the accounts of travellers and explorers for data both on human universals and on the diversity of customs and mores across the world’s cultures.

The idea of a universal human nature brings us to a third theme, humanism. The thinkers of the Age of Reason and the Enlightenment saw an urgent need for a secular foundation for morality, because they were haunted by a historical memory of centuries of religious carnage: the Crusades, the Inquisition, witch-hunts, the European wars of religion.

They laid that foundation in what we now call humanism, which privileges the wellbeing of individual men, women, and children over the glory of the tribe, race, nation or religion. It is individuals, not groups, who are sentient – who feel pleasure and pain, fulfillment and anguish. Whether it is framed as the goal of providing the greatest happiness for the greatest number or as a categorical imperative to treat people as ends rather than means, it was the universal capacity of a person to suffer and flourish, they said, that called on our moral concern.

Fortunately, human nature prepares us to answer that call. That is because we are endowed with the sentiment of sympathy, which they also called benevolence, pity and commiseration. Given that we are equipped with the capacity to sympathise with others, nothing can prevent the circle of sympathy from expanding from the family and tribe to embrace all of humankind, particularly as reason goads us into realising that there can be nothing uniquely deserving about ourselves or any of the groups to which we belong. We are forced into cosmopolitanism: accepting our citizenship in the world.

A humanistic sensibility impelled the Enlightenment thinkers to condemn not just religious violence but also the secular cruelties of their age, including slavery, despotism, executions for frivolous offences such as shoplifting and poaching and sadistic punishments such as flogging, amputation, impalement, disembowelment, breaking on the wheel and burning at the stake. The Enlightenment is sometimes called the Humanitarian Revolution, because it led to the abolition of barbaric practices that had been commonplace across civilisations for millennia.

If the abolition of slavery and cruel punishment is not progress, nothing is, which brings us to the fourth Enlightenment ideal. With our understanding of the world advanced by science and our circle of sympathy expanded through reason and cosmopolitanism, humanity could make intellectual and moral progress. It need not resign itself to the miseries and irrationalities of the present, nor try to turn back the clock to a lost golden age.

The ideal of progress also should not be confused with the 20th-century movement to re-engineer society for the convenience of technocrats and planners, which the political scientist James Scott calls Authoritarian High Modernism. The movement denied the existence of human nature, with its messy needs for beauty, nature, tradition and social intimacy. Starting from a “clean tablecloth”, the modernists designed urban renewal projects that replaced vibrant neighbourhoods with freeways, high-rises, windswept plazas and brutalist architecture.

“Mankind will be reborn,” they theorised, and “live in an ordered relation to the whole.” Though these developments were sometimes linked to the word progress, the usage was ironic: “progress” unguided by humanism is not progress.

Rather than trying to shape human nature, the Enlightenment hope for progress was concentrated on human institutions. Human-made systems like governments, laws, schools, markets and international bodies are a natural target for the application of reason to human betterment.

In this way of thinking, government is not a divine fiat to reign, a synonym for “society”, or an avatar of the national, religious or racial soul. It is a human invention, tacitly agreed to in a social contract, designed to enhance the welfare of citizens by coordinating their behaviour and discouraging selfish acts that may be tempting to every individual but leave every one worse off. As the most famous product of the Enlightenment, the US Declaration of Independence, put it, in order to secure the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, governments are instituted among people, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.

The Enlightenment also saw the first rational analysis of prosperity. Its starting point was not how wealth is distributed but the prior question of how wealth comes to exist in the first place. Specialisation works only in a market that allows the specialists to exchange their goods and services and Smith explained that economic activity was a form of mutually beneficial cooperation (a positive-sum game, in today’s lingo): each gets back something that is more valuable to him than what he gives up. Through voluntary exchange, people benefit others by benefiting themselves; as he wrote: “It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest. We address ourselves, not to their humanity but to their self-love.” Smith was not saying that people are ruthlessly selfish, or that they ought to be; he was one of history’s keenest commentators on human sympathy. He only said that in a market, whatever tendency people have to care for their families and themselves can work to the good of all.

Exchange can make an entire society not just richer but nicer, because in an effective market it is cheaper to buy things than to steal them and other people are more valuable to you alive than dead. (As the economist Ludwig von Mises put it centuries later: “If the tailor goes to war against the baker, he must henceforth bake his own bread.”) Many Enlightenment thinkers, including Montesquieu, Kant, Voltaire, Diderot and the Abbé de Saint-Pierre endorsed the ideal of doux commerce, gentle commerce. The American founders – George Washington, James Madison and especially Alexander Hamilton – designed the institutions of the young nation to nurture it.

This brings us to another Enlightenment ideal, peace. War was so common in history that it was natural to see it as a permanent part of the human condition and to think peace could come only in a messianic age. But now war was no longer thought of as a divine punishment to be endured and deplored, or a glorious contest to be won and celebrated, but a practical problem to be mitigated and someday solved. In Perpetual Peace, Kant laid out measures that would discourage leaders from dragging their countries into war. Together with international commerce, he recommended representative republics (what we would call democracies), mutual transparency, norms against conquest and internal interference, freedom of travel and immigration and a federation of states that would adjudicate disputes between them.

For all the prescience of the founders, framers and philosophers, Enlightenment Now is not a book of Enlighten-olatry. The Enlightenment thinkers were men and women of their age, the 18th century. Some were racists, sexists, antisemites, slaveholders or duellists. Some of the questions they worried about are almost incomprehensible to us, and they came up with plenty of daffy ideas together with the brilliant ones. More to the point, they were born too soon to appreciate some of the keystones of our modern understanding of reality, including entropy, evolution, and information.

They of all people would have been the first to concede this. If you extol reason, then what matters is the integrity of the thoughts, not the personalities of the thinkers. And if you’re committed to progress, you can’t very well claim to have it all figured out. It takes nothing away from the Enlightenment thinkers to identify some critical ideas about the human condition and the nature of progress that we know and they didn’t.

Observation

The Observer

‘Reason is non-negotiable’: Steven Pinker on the Enlightenment

In an extract from his new book Enlightenment Now, the Harvard psychologist extols the relevance of 18th-century thinking

What is enlightenment? In a 1784 essay with that question as its title, Immanuel Kant answered that it consists of “humankind’s emergence from its self-incurred immaturity”, its “lazy and cowardly” submission to the “dogmas and formulas” of religious or political authority. Enlightenment’s motto, he proclaimed, is: “Dare to understand!” and its foundational demand is freedom of thought and speech.

Foremost is reason. Reason is non-negotiable. As soon as you show up to discuss the question of what we should believe (or any other question), as long as you insist that your answers, whatever they are, are reasonable or justified or true and that therefore other people ought to believe them too, then you have committed yourself to reason, and to holding your beliefs accountable to objective standards.

That leads to the second ideal, science, the refining of reason to understand the world. That includes an understanding of ourselves. The Scientific Revolution was revolutionary in a way that is hard to appreciate today, now that its discoveries have become second nature to most of us.

The idea of a universal human nature brings us to a third theme, humanism. The thinkers of the Age of Reason and the Enlightenment saw an urgent need for a secular foundation for morality, because they were haunted by a historical memory of centuries of religious carnage: the Crusades, the Inquisition, witch-hunts, the European wars of religion.

“Mankind will be reborn,” they theorised, and “live in an ordered relation to the whole.” Though these developments were sometimes linked to the word progress, the usage was ironic: “progress” unguided by humanism is not progress.

Rather than trying to shape human nature, the Enlightenment hope for progress was concentrated on human institutions. Human-made systems like governments, laws, schools, markets and international bodies are a natural target for the application of reason to human betterment.

Exchange can make an entire society not just richer but nicer, because in an effective market it is cheaper to buy things than to steal them and other people are more valuable to you alive than dead. (As the economist Ludwig von Mises put it centuries later: “If the tailor goes to war against the baker, he must henceforth bake his own bread.”) Many Enlightenment thinkers, including Montesquieu, Kant, Voltaire, Diderot and the Abbé de Saint-Pierre endorsed the ideal of doux commerce, gentle commerce. The American founders – George Washington, James Madison and especially Alexander Hamilton – designed the institutions of the young nation to nurture it.

This brings us to another Enlightenment ideal, peace. War was so common in history that it was natural to see it as a permanent part of the human condition and to think peace could come only in a messianic age. But now war was no longer thought of as a divine punishment to be endured and deplored, or a glorious contest to be won and celebrated, but a practical problem to be mitigated and someday solved. In Perpetual Peace, Kant laid out measures that would discourage leaders from dragging their countries into war. Together with international commerce, he recommended representative republics (what we would call democracies), mutual transparency, norms against conquest and internal interference, freedom of travel and immigration and a federation of states that would adjudicate disputes between them.

For all the prescience of the founders, framers and philosophers, Enlightenment Now is not a book of Enlighten-olatry. The Enlightenment thinkers were men and women of their age, the 18th century. Some were racists, sexists, antisemites, slaveholders or duellists. Some of the questions they worried about are almost incomprehensible to us, and they came up with plenty of daffy ideas together with the brilliant ones. More to the point, they were born too soon to appreciate some of the keystones of our modern understanding of reality, including entropy, evolution, and information.

They of all people would have been the first to concede this. If you extol reason, then what matters is the integrity of the thoughts, not the personalities of the thinkers. And if you’re committed to progress, you can’t very well claim to have it all figured out. It takes nothing away from the Enlightenment thinkers to identify some critical ideas about the human condition and the nature of progress that we know and they didn’t.

25. Reserved Presidency

The Singapore presidential (s)election: A monumental miscalculation

A sneak peek into Cherian George's latest book, 'Singapore, Incomplete'.

By Cherian George September 15, 2017

In this preview of a chapter from his forthcoming book, media academic Cherian George argues that Singapore’s multiracialism would have been better off if the government had kept the presidential election open for Tan Cheng Bock to contest, or abandoned the elected presidency completely and reverted to the old system of a ceremonial head of state.

Prediction: Halimah Yacob will make a marvellous president. I’ve barely met her and we’ve only exchanged pleasantries. But what I know of her, I respect. And what a powerful symbol for equality. Singapore’s first female president; the first from a Malay background since 1970; and a headscarfed Muslim head of state at a time when Muslim minorities in so many countries face undeserved suspicion. Symbolism matters in all kinds of human relations, whether it’s wearing a wedding ring or preserving a heritage building. It’s how we declare who we are and what’s important to us. The identity of our new president amounts to a big, bold statement.

Like many other Singaporeans, though, I despair at the way our eighth president entered the office. The government’s decision to turn the 2017 presidential election into a Malay-only race backfired badly. Shutting out potential candidates from the Chinese majority and engaging in crude tokenism tainted Halimah’s entry into the Istana. Worse, it unleashed a social media flurry of racist remarks in the guise of political comment, injuring the very harmony that the government claimed it was trying to promote. I can think of few political events that reveal so starkly the tendencies that prevent Singapore from maturing as a polity: the government’s distrust of the people, its insistence on getting its way, and its lack of finesse in dealing with contentious issues.


Halimah should have been allowed an open election

When the government revealed its intention to reserve presidential elections periodically for minority candidates, people naturally suspected that the constitutional amendment was designed to block Tan Cheng Bock from running again. Ironically, this cynical interpretation of the government’s intentions — which it has strenuously denied — actually makes it look smarter. If its goal was to thwart Tan at any cost, it achieved it 100 per cent. On the other hand, if we give it the benefit of the doubt and accept that racial harmony was its only policy objective, we are left dumbfounded by its chosen course of action. The idea of a reserved election was counterproductive, ultimately doing more harm than good. The government could have let Halimah stand in an open contest. It should never have mooted the controversial idea of radically amending the constitution, a move guaranteed to alienate many of the 64 per cent of Singaporeans who had voted against its preferred candidate in 2011. If Tan Cheng Bock wanted to run against Halimah, it should have let him.

I know many will disagree with this counterfactual prediction, but I do believe that if Halimah’s backers had focussed on talking her up instead of keeping Tan Cheng Bock out, she would have beaten him—and by a more convincing margin than Tony Tan managed in 2011. For a start, she would have the loyal, genuine backing of the labour movement, which she served from 1978. She would have had a good chance of winning over many of those Singaporeans who’d wanted a more relatable candidate than the patrician Tony Tan. Furthermore, many Singaporeans would have been thrilled by the chance to elect Singapore’s first female head of state. In the course of a campaign, younger voters would have discovered the Halimah who Her World chose as its Woman of the Year 2003. In a hypothetical contest between the two, Tan Cheng Bock would have had to tread carefully, lest he say anything that might come across as disrespectful to the female gender. The main thing going against Halimah, frankly, was that, unlike Tan, the government supported her.

But once they got to know her better through an open campaign, enough fair-minded voters would have realised that this feisty former backbencher had at least as strong a connection to ordinary Singaporeans as Tan Cheng Bock. Her parliamentary record shows that (relative to other PAP stalwarts, he was as well) she has as much of a claim as Tan to the mantle of an outspoken champion of the common man and woman. For example, she was the first ruling party politician who publicly chided party comrade Seng Han Thong over his 2011 remarks about the English language skills of Malay and Indian MRT drivers, which she called “inappropriate and unfair” and “simplistic and insensitive”.

Unfortunately, the government was convinced that Halimah’s strong selling points would be wiped out by her ethnicity. It decided that Chinese Singaporeans would vote for a fellow Chinese and not give a minority candidate like her a chance. Hence, the need to change the system and restrict this round to Malay candidates. Again and again, the government cited a survey by Channel NewsAsia and the Institute of Policy Studies, according to which around three or four out of every ten Chinese respondents wouldn’t say that they would accept a minority president. The survey implied that a Malay candidate for president would be rejected by as much as one-third of the population.


But were those surveys realistic?

But the government read too much into these survey findings. It is one thing to ask survey respondents to react to a hypothetical, nameless, faceless candidate of a given race. It’s another thing entirely to ask voters to consider a specific, real-life individual. In the former case, respondents can only respond through racial stereotypes — because they are not given any information to go on other than the person’s race. In the latter case, voters are able to consider the whole person. Of course, some voters may not see past the candidate’s colour. But many will respond to other salient traits, such as character and experience.

Thus, in the real world, there’s no contradiction between harbouring generalised prejudices against a particular race while at the same time developing a deep positive connection with known individuals of that very same race. The clearest evidence of this is the popularity of Deputy Prime Minister Tharman Shanmugaratnam. According to the IPS survey, only six in ten Chinese would accept a hypothetical Indian prime minister. Yet, a survey by Yahoo! the same year showed seven in ten supported (not merely accepted) Tharman as their next prime minister — twice as many as Teo Chee Hean, who came in second. Just as many Singaporeans who say they don’t want an Indian prime minister would love PM Tharman, it is entirely possible that Singaporeans who didn’t favour a Malay or Indian president would have happily voted for President Halimah. By reading the worst into the CNA-IPS survey, the government was underestimating both the national appeal of outstanding minority candidates, and the capacity of most Singaporeans to see past their racial prejudices when presented with a specific individual of undeniable worth.

Admittedly, there’s no guarantee that Halimah would have beaten Tan Cheng Bock. We might have had to content ourselves with a Malay president on our banknotes, but not in the Istana. The government wanted certainty. But this could only come at a very high cost. The point of elections isn’t simply to give power to winners. If power were the only thing at stake, contenders could do it the efficient Game of Thrones way and murder their opponents. No, elections are about conferring legitimacy. That legitimacy is a product of people’s democratic choice: their freedom to stand for election and their freedom to vote. But genuine choice makes elections unpredictable. To put it another way, you can have either legitimacy or certainty; you can’t have both. Trying to guarantee an election outcome—as the government did when it restricted the 2017 election to Malay candidates (and then to just one of them)—inevitably diminished the perceived legitimacy of the process. That was too high a price to pay.


The benefit of an appointed President

It would have been far more sensible to accept the suggestion of the 2016 Constitutional Commission, that the presidency revert to its historical role of a “symbolic unifying figure” appointed by parliament. Its veto functions, safeguarding the reserves, could have been taken over by a separate council. After all, it’s debatable whether Singaporeans were ever really convinced of the need for an elected, custodial presidency. Lee Kuan Yew had to push his idea hard against very many doubters. On the flip side, people used to accept without fuss the tradition of rotating the old-style office among the main races. The government could have just swallowed its pride, conceded that the elected presidency was a failed experiment, and boldly revived the ceremonial office that had served Singapore well for more than three decades. Instead, it opted for a model that is neither here nor there: an election stripped of free choice, to install a symbol of unity in a manner that sowed division.

Perhaps, though, the constitutional change would be worth it, if the costs were outweighed by the benefits. The stated goal was to give our Malay community the morale boost of seeing one of its own occupy the highest office in the land. As importantly, a Malay president—her photo in every school and government office, saluted at National Day Parades, receiving other heads of state at the Istana—would serve as a strong reminder to our majority race that Singapore’s minorities matter. Both are extremely worthy goals. But they can’t be achieved by installing a Malay president any old how. Symbols are powerful, but they require delicate handling.

First, basic knowledge of human psychology should tell us that if we want people to feel good, we need to respect their dignity. If your colleague needs money for an operation, there’s a big difference between discretely giving him the cash versus broadcasting your charity via your workplace’s group email. The former tells him you sincerely want to help; the latter says you’re showing off at his expense. Similarly, when performed the right way, token political gestures are appreciated by all ethnic communities. Think of how people lap it up when a guest of honour bothers to learn a few lines of their language to kick off his speech, or is willing to dress up in their traditional attire. But the same gestures would backfire if the VIP tried to milk them too much, or acted as if his hosts should feel grateful for his efforts. Everybody likes a gift, but nobody wants to appear needy. Tokens need to be presented with grace. Therefore, the government’s repeated, high-profile declarations that Malays needed a Malay president were bound to grate on the very community it was trying to impress. So it was no surprise that some Malays dismissed it as tokenism, and called for more concrete measures to uplift the community. The debate over Halimah’s Malayness was another symptom of the unease among Malays with the way things were handled. These objections would not have arisen if the government had not been so explicit about requiring a Malay president. If it had simply offered Halimah as an outstanding candidate who just happened to be Malay, she would have been embraced wholeheartedly by the Malay community.


Arming the racist subset

Second, the government’s move risks intensifying anti-Malay sentiment — the exact opposite of what it intended. The government lost sight of who the target audience is for its message of tolerance. Obviously, it’s not Malays themselves. Nor is it the majority of Chinese, Indians or others, who are already quite accepting of Malays. The main problem group comprises that subset of Chinese who harbour deep ethnic prejudices; those who believe that Singapore would be a better, more successful country if it weren’t for our minorities holding us back. These are the Chinese who don’t buy the theory that minorities face systemic disadvantages or that they need a leg up. In their worldview, Malays and Indians are not grateful enough for the space and opportunities they already enjoy in a Chinese country.

In the past, if you asked such people to identify the privileges they felt that minorities enjoyed, they might point out that minorities require a disproportionate share of welfare services. They would also claim that Muslims are more touchy than other religious communities: Singapore keeps having to bend over backwards to accommodate and not to offend them. But these grievances were never too extreme. Singapore doesn’t have anything that comes close to the affirmative action programmes of India, with its massive reservations system for university places and government jobs. Accordingly, majority resentment in Singapore is much less intense than in India.

The problem with the new presidential election system is that it goes to the very top of the list of reasons that any Chinese can cite to justify his anti-minority feelings. The constitutional amendment meant that the majority race couldn’t even contest for the highest office in their own country. Most Chinese will blame the government for this turn of events. But those with racist predispositions will see this as a new low in the way Singapore panders to its never-satisfied minorities. The next time the Malay community raises a legitimate grievance that it wants the government to address, such as discrimination in employment, these same Chinese will mutter that Malays are just too much: we handed them the presidency, but they still claim to be disadvantaged.

None of this is the fault of Halimah Yacob. Sadly, though, she is bound to bear part of the burden of the government’s mishandling of the presidency. Some Singaporeans, even within her own ethnic community, won’t get over the impression that she’s a token Malay. Some will see her as a reminder of how Tan Cheng Bock was robbed. I can only hope that most give her a chance, and that she’ll use it to help heal the divides that the whole controversy has exposed and widened.

Observation

1. In The Singapore presidential (s)election: A monumental miscalculation, Cherian George raised pertinent questions about the first reserved presidency.

2. There is one more question. Does the president speak up when government failed?

3. The presidency was the subject of Integrity (25) Item 10 and Committee (27) Item 4 because a problem was left unresolved. Thereafter, noise from the neighbour continued for about a year more until after Standpoint (34) was posted. About a year later when he tried to sell his flat the problem with officers cropped up again, and when he again started to blog about it officers continued to cause trouble.

4. In Constitution (61) under Observation, extracts from The Constitution of Singapore  A Contextual Analysis and Presidency are starting points whether the president could speak publicly when there is failure.

5. Head of State (61) and Wrongdoings (61) are letters to the present and former president respectively. Items under Observation are worth a look.

6. Also refer to Foolproof (50), posted at the same time as the letter to the former president in GE 2015 (50), on related items under Observation.

25. Civil Service

Whither the civil service? The risks of the loss of PAP dominance

Oct 07, 2017 05.00PM

By Adrian W J Kuah

IN HIS article published in The Straits Times on Oct 1, “The politics of dominance: Don’t take it to the limit”, Mr Han Fook Kwang identified the consequences of prolonged dominance by the People’s Action Party (PAP): complacency, disconnectedness from the public, and groupthink. He also highlighted the implications that the unbroken incumbency of the PAP would have for the civil service:

“This is a pertinent risk in Singapore because the ruling party has been in power for so long, the public service has known no other political master. Public servants are supposed to be politically neutral in theory, but in practice it can be difficult to draw the line.”

This issue is not new. It was raised by Mr Eddie Teo, former Permanent Secretary and current Chairman of the Public Service Commission, in a May 2010 interview with Challenge magazine (a publication of the Public Service Division):

“In Singapore, where the same political party has been in power for 45 years, can and should the Public Service be ‘politically neutral’? After such a lengthy cohabitation, is the Singapore Public Service totally politicised and just an administrative arm of the People’s Action Party, as alleged by some critics?”

At stake are questions about the neutrality and politicisation of the civil service. Politicisation of the civil service causes anxiety because it jeopardises the neutrality of the civil service. So the theory goes.

Frankly, such anxieties are misplaced. Civil servants are “political” because they advise on and then execute political decisions. All public administration is political, despite whatever theoretical fictions we have contrived. Singapore is no exception. It is just a matter of degree.

Mr Han suggested that the PAP’s dominance risked compromising the neutrality of the public service and the integrity of public institutions. But the civil service being loyal to the PAP government, often unabashedly so, is not a problem. It is supposed to be, under our hybrid Westminster system. The real problem is, can the civil service be just as unabashedly loyal to a government formed by a different party?

From the outset, the PAP’s priority was getting the civil service aligned with itself. As Mr Lee Kuan Yew said at the opening of the Political Study Centre in 1959:

“If the future is not better, either because of the stupidities of elected Ministers, or the inadequacies of the civil servants, then at the end of the five-year term the people are hardly likely to believe, either in the political party that they have elected, or the political system they have inherited.”

Mr Lee had always seen politics and administration as inextricably linked. To him, civil servants needed to appreciate the political underpinnings of their work beyond the technocratic dimension. In the same speech, he said:

“If the Political Study Centre achieves nothing else but the awakening of your minds to problems which you may have overlooked before, if it opens your minds to political riders which you had formerly regarded from purely administrative eyes as tiresome problems, then it would have succeeded.”

However, over the decades, the consolidation of PAP’s power ironically relieved civil servants from having to appreciate “political riders”, since the politics seemed to have been settled once and for all.

That is, until the return of politics in this so-called age of contestation. Mr Han asked, what happens to the civil service when the PAP remains so dominant? The question I ask instead is, what happens if the PAP does not?

If the PAP loses its dominance, it will prove to be truly unchartered territory. However, the experiences of the Japanese and Australian civil services can provide some insights on what we should do and what we should avoid.

Japan in the early 2000s is a cautionary tale of how the relationship between politicians and civil servants can break down. When the Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ) took power in 2009 after the long-term incumbency of the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), the DPJ’s distrust of the bureaucracy led them to marginalise the civil service. Worse, the DPJ government tried to score points with voters by publicly bashing the bureaucracy. The DPJ interregnum was marked by mutual sabotage between ministers and their civil servants. When the LDP returned to power in 2012, further deterioration occurred. The LDP could not trust those civil servants who had seemed too cosy with the previous DPJ regime and so acted to purge them from the service.

In Australia, a country more used to political contestation and changes, the civil service routinely prepares two sets of policy briefs during the national elections. One is for the scenario of the incumbent retaining power and the continuity of existing policies. An example is the brief to the incumbent Prime Minister Julia Gillard for the 2010 election:

“Please accept my warmest congratulations on being returned as Prime Minister. My department is very much looking forward to continuing to serve you… Since your elevation as Prime Minister on 24 June 2010 and more recently during the election campaign, you have laid out a comprehensive program to secure Australia’s wellbeing now and in the future. The attached Incoming Brief provides your department’s professional advice on how to implement that program successfully.”

Another brief anticipates a change of government and the likely shifts in policies, and is addressed to the possible incoming Prime Minister (in this case, Mr Tony Abbott):


“During the election campaign, you outlined some changes to the machinery of government that will be necessary to implement your election commitments… As the Secretary of the Department, I look forward to providing you with the highest levels of service. Our advice will be proactive, strategic, practical and, above all, honest.”

This mechanism reflects the Australian civil service’s anticipatory mind-set and political savvy in building trust with all parties without eroding the trust of the one in power.

The possibility of the PAP losing power, right now, is a remote one. But what seems improbable in the short term is inevitable in the longer term. We need to acknowledge that there are also risks to the civil service due to the loss of the PAP’s dominance. This means having to ask questions such as: How much thought has gone into building processes and structures to minimise the disruption of a change of government? Is the relationship between the PAP and the civil service robust and enlightened enough to allow the bureaucracy to reach out to the most viable opposition party, if a change of government seems imminent? Or how does the civil service adjust to a world where the PAP’s dominance is only merely diminished?

The civil service’s deserved and much-vaunted ability to think long term needs to be turned on itself, to figure out how it is to manage transitions of power. This is not only for the good of the nation; it is also a matter of self-preservation.

By the same token, its current political masters need to go beyond mere acknowledgement that its incumbency is not unending, and to work meaningfully with the civil service to ensure that such transitions are as smooth as possible. Perhaps it comes down to loosening the bonds between the PAP and the civil service, to create space for the latter to develop its own mechanisms for dealing with a change of government, in a similar manner to the Australian civil service.

Whatever it is, it cannot be that if a new democratically-elected government comes to power, its policies and administration are bedeviled by mutual suspicion between the incoming ministers and flatfooted civil servants, and thwarted by legacy norms and systems. Ensuring a smooth transition of power: any government in power in a democratic system owes this duty of care to the nation.

• Adrian W J Kuah is a Senior Research Fellow and Head of the Case Studies Unit at the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy.


The politics of dominance: Don't take it to the limit

PUBLISHED
OCT 1, 2017, 5:00 AM SGT

An overly dominant ruling party faces dangers such as resistance to change and complacency

German Chancellor Angela Merkel's victory in the recent elections made headlines around the world because her party's winning margin was much reduced due to the gains of the right-wing Alternative for Germany (AfD) party.

For Singaporeans though, the more peculiar feature of the result might be that her party won only 33 per cent of the votes and would need a coalition with others to form the government. That has been a hallmark of German politics for decades. Yet, despite not winning a majority, Chancellor Merkel is now into her fourth term in office and is widely regarded as the leader of the Western world, after United States President Donald Trump was unofficially stripped of the title because of his inward-looking "America First" policy. Under her leadership, Germany has strengthened its position as one of the strongest economies in the world and demonstrated forthright stewardship of the troubled European Union.

Question: How has the country been able to achieve all these despite its politics of coalition government? Or, is its ability to accommodate a wide range of views one of the secrets to its strength?

I do not know the answer but whatever it is, it is a world apart from Singapore, where the defining characteristic has been the dominant position of the ruling People's Action Party (PAP), which has won every general election since independence in 1965. So overwhelming has its hold been that there has not been a single year when the opposition held more than 10 per cent of the seats and many in which it held none.

Singapore has done exceptionally well during these years of PAP dominance. The economy has grown, per capita income is one of the highest in the world, and the city has been transformed beyond recognition. There are many reasons for its success but political stability has often been touted as a major factor.

Indeed, the Government has repeatedly stressed that because of Singapore's small size and limited talent pool, it cannot afford to have the revolving-door politics seen in many Western democracies, with parties taking turns at the helm, or worse, suffer a coalition government.

Singaporeans, by and large, understand the benefits of a strong government: the ability to plan for the long term, and to be able to implement policies quickly without politics getting in the way.

In contrast, the Germans would recoil at the thought of having one party dominate the country, having learnt their painful lesson in the brutal years leading to World War II when the Nazi Party led by Adolf Hitler muscled its way to power.

To each his own then, and never the twain shall meet?

Every country has to decide which system works best for it, shaped by its own history and the unique circumstances of its people and culture. There is no universal model.

But there are dangers when any one system is taken to extremes.
In Germany, seats are allocated by proportional representation, which encourages multi-party democracy and works against a dominant party system. This has helped extreme right-wing parties such as the AfD gain a foothold, the first time in 60 years they have been able to do so. Analysts predict a rough time ahead as fringe parties enter the fray with their divisive politics.

In Singapore, danger comes from the other end of the spectrum, from an overly dominant government. It can lead to complacency when leaders lose touch with the ground and ordinary people's concerns. Without a strong opposition and other influential voices outside the party, groupthink can set in.

The PAP suffered from some of this in the years leading to the 2011 General Election (GE), when it failed to address issues such as rising property prices, overcrowded MRT trains and an overly liberal immigration policy leading to a large influx of foreign workers. It was accused of being elitist in its approach.

To its credit, it acknowledged its weaknesses after suffering one of its worst setbacks in the GE, tackled the problems, and reaped the benefits in the 2015 GE.

Now, there are renewed concerns it is exercising its dominant powers by introducing the reserved presidency despite unhappiness among the people. Its overwhelming electoral victory in 2015 has no doubt made it more assured in dealing with these politically sensitive issues.

There is a familiar cycle to the politics of dominance, with the ruling party testing the limits of its power and recalibrating it at every election depending on how well it performs.

But it has to watch that it does not overplay its card because the Singapore political landscape is a flat one and can be swayed by one major nationwide issue, such as the reserved presidency. There might still be a political reckoning to come in the next election.

Besides complacency, there are two other dangers of an overly dominant government.

One is the blurring of lines between the party and the state. This is a pertinent risk in Singapore because the ruling party has been in power for so long, the public service has known no other political master. Public servants are supposed to be politically neutral in theory, but in practice it can be difficult to draw the line.

For example, opposition politicians have long complained that the People's Association (PA) discriminates against them in not appointing opposition Members of Parliament as grassroots advisers even though they have been duly elected by the people. The Government has argued that the PA exists to explain and promote government programmes, a role it does not expect the opposition to support.

In reality, any ruling party anywhere will want to maximise the advantage it enjoys in incumbency. That's only natural, and the PAP, because of its longevity, knows this better than anyone.

But if overdone, it risks undermining the integrity of public institutions and public confidence in them.

This would have serious consequences for Singapore because its public service is among the best in the world, with a reputation painstakingly built over the years.

The other danger an overly dominant ruling party faces is resistance to change even when circumstances require it. I do not mean adjustments of government policies but more fundamental changes to the party's internal workings, such as who and how it attracts new members, how it selects its leaders, and what its approach is to alternative views.

The tendency of most dominant systems is to preserve the status quo because of inertia and vested interests. Can change come voluntarily from within, or will it be forced by external circumstances? The record of most dominant parties around the world, including the Liberal Democratic Party in Japan, Umno in Malaysia and the African National Congress in South Africa, favours the latter. The PAP, being politically stronger than any of these parties, might yet prove the exception.

None of these potential risks will make Singaporeans desire coalition government or Germans embrace a dominant-party system. But both would do well to recognise the dangers of taking any one form to the extreme.

• The writer, Han Fook Kwang, is also a senior fellow at the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies, Nanyang Technological University.

A version of this article appeared in the print edition of The Sunday Times on October 01, 2017, with the headline 'The politics of dominance: Don't take it to the limit'.

Observation

1. The first article is on the civil service in Japan and Australia with regard to the civil service in Singapore while the second article is on multi-parties coalition in Germany with regard to single-dominant party in Singapore.

The first writer emphasised “Civil servants are ‘political’ because they advise on and then execute political decisions. All public administration is political, despite whatever theoretical fictions we have contrived.” The second writer identified “the consequences of prolonged dominance by the People’s Action Party (PAP): complacency, disconnectedness from the public, and groupthink.”

Please also refer to relevant topics in Evidence (21) Item 6, Parkinson (40), Public Service (48) and Governance (51).

2. The apex court in City Harvest Church case had reinstated the reduced sentences, stating “The fundamental consideration was that a hard case should not be allowed to make bad law – in this case, to undermine the principle of separation of powers which is one of the very bedrocks of the constitution.”. Therefore, Parliament will amend the law for Criminal Breach of Trust to take care of such cases in future.

Will the Government similarly make a ruling on his case? It could be a hard case if what the Minister in charge of Civil Service and Head of Civil Service were reported to have said about “complex issues no longer fell within neat domain” and “issues that do not fall neatly into any one agency's work” respectively in News (31) were indeed referring to his case.

Is it a hard case? Right Men (25), Bully (71) and Endgame (71) are generally about his case.

Where is the failing? Discovery (9) has a list and letters to prime minister and president are in the category Complaint. A case that sketched back to ‘98 is still open in ‘18.

Is there rule of law in his case? The authorities may have gone against a principle of law by keeping silence. If it was one of reason including that of national interest, then what could be the reason. Please refer to Singapore Chronicles  Law in Rule of Law (61) and Why bureaucrats matter in the fight to preserve the rule of law in Rule of Law 2 (61).