Singapore elects a new president today. Devjyot Ghoshal attends two rallies — far removed from the heat and dust of polls in India — to get a feel of the campaigns.
Across the river from where Stamford Raffles landed in 1819 to establish a British trading port, Tony Tan Keng Yam sits smilingly before a curious crowd of onlookers. A collection of a few hundred middle-aged men and women, some wearing off-white caps emblazoned with the outline of a pair of square-rimmed spectacles, along with office-goers and a smattering of young Singaporeans, stare at the stage. While the ubiquitous press corps hovers around grappling with their cameras and trying to perch themselves on the few vantage points, a small contingent of police stands calmly. This is a rally for Singapore’s presidential election on a balmy Wednesday afternoon, unfolding at the city-states’ scenic riverfront, which in the years since Raffles’ arrival has come to form one end of its central business district.
There’s none of the Indian subcontinent’s poll paraphernalia: there are no precariously held-together bamboo scaffoldings. Nor is there battalion after battalion of law enforcement personnel with half the district’s armoury strapped to their chests or dysfunctional loudspeakers belting out patriotic songs followed by lengthy, barely audible speeches. Instead of larger-than-life cutouts and rows of party flags lining streets, there are a few dignified campaign posters, usually strapped to electricity poles with narrow plastic bands.
And strangest of all, to an eye accustomed to the din and dust of the Indian political drama, there are no swelling crowds. But that doesn’t mean the average Singaporean doesn't take politics seriously. Not anymore, at least. Tony Tan Keng Yam, more recognisable as just Tony Tan, is in the race for the office of Singapore’s president with three other gentlemen sharing the same family name: Tan Kin Lian, Tan Jee Say and Tan Cheng Bock. More importantly, the four Tans, are participating in the first competitive presidential elections in the city-state in almost two decades, voting for which takes place today. The incumbent president, SR Nathan, has served two terms after having won elections in 1999 and 2005 uncontested, while his predecessor, Ong Teng Cheong, won the first and only contested presidential election in 1993.
Of similar significance is the fact that this presidential race comes months after the watershed general election in May, where the ruling People’s Action Party (PAP) conceded the most number of seats to the country’s still-nascent opposition. In somewhat politically-charged Singapore, this election may mean more than just the act of choosing a president who in any case has largely ceremonial powers. Primary presidential functions include protecting Singapore’s financial reserves, which this small island nation takes very seriously, as well as making key civil service appointments. However, this time, some see it as another assessment of PAP which has remained in power since 1959.
Tony Tan, though, steps up to the microphone unperturbed. At 71, he has been Singapore’s deputy prime minister and has headed five ministries, including finance and defence, during his 26 years in government. Most recently, he was the executive director of GIC, among the world’s largest sovereign wealth funds, and the chairman of Singapore Press Holdings which controls the majority of newspapers in the city-state. Dressed in a white shirt, black trousers and blue tie, Tony Tan admits that giving up these jobs wasn’t an easy decision. “I don’t know if I will win but I know I must try,” he declares unhurriedly, as the crowd breaks into applause.
There are no deafening roars but there’s an overwhelming feeling that the message is being heard. His square-rimmed glasses firmly in place, Tony Tan goes on to talk about the dark clouds of yet another financial crisis and speaks of his proven ability to weather such storms.
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The corporate-types, mostly out on their lunch breaks, listen attentively, the yearly bonus at the back of their mind while the supporters in caps continue to bob their heads in approval. Finally, Tony Tan announces that despite the threats, he remains convinced that Singapore’s best days lie ahead. “With your support, we can move forward with confidence for the future,” he signs off with an almost forced flourish. The final four words, incidentally, are his campaign slogan. With peculiar political polish, a now-garlanded Tony Tan is herded into the throng. As the frontline jostles for that prized handshake, the backbenchers melt away, possibly back to their cubicles.
To many, in spite of his close-affiliation with PAP, Tony Tan remains the preferred choice. “He’s been an advisor to our union for 30 years. Not only has he always advised us well, he has also held many posts in government. He is the most appropriate candidate,” says M Ramaswamy, 60, president of the Sembawang Shipyard Employees Union which had over 130 members at the rally. For Willy Tan, 60, it isn’t just the family name that makes him support this candidate. “It’s the track record that matters,” he says.
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Five hours later and 15 kilometres away on the flood-lit green of the Yio Chu Kang stadium in northeast Singapore, it is Tan Kin Lian’s turn to make his pitch. After Tony Tan’s rally, where numbers seemed amplified by the restricted space in the city centre, the turnout of some 1,200 people barely covering a quarter of the sprawling ground is almost an antithesis.
This rally has the characteristics of a picnic, albeit more political and less sedentary. Some sit on the field with their families scattered. Children are occasionally hoisted on a parents’ shoulder for a better view of the stage. While a diverse line-up of speakers share their tales of Tan Kin Lian and attempt to convince the placid crowd of his virtues, two rows of campaign volunteers, on either side of the stage, try drumming up vocal support. Holding large red blurbs inscribed with “values” such as honesty, fairness and courage that Tan Kin Lian reportedly holds close to his heart, they jump, and cheer every time a strong statement is made. But barring intermittent applause, the crowd barely stirs.
For the 63-year-old former chief executive officer of NTUC Income, among Singapore’s leading insurers, his distance from the ruling PAP is the real point of distinction, speakers repeatedly point out, as well as his arresting life story. “Our parents were good, honest people. But we had to accept very early that we couldn’t go to university. That was never an option, though we were top students at Singapore’s best school,” recalls Albert Tan, the candidates’ elder brother.
For over two hours, speaker after speaker goes on stage, till Tan Kin Lian himself goes to the microphone, with less than 30 minutes before the rally's scheduled end. Dressed in the black suit, white shirt and red tie of his campaign posters, Tan Kin Lian begins in Malay and then shifts to Mandarin, assiduously referring to the written speech at the lectern. Finally, in English, he says he would be a “leader that takes care of the people, a leader that speaks out for the people, and a leader who is the voice of the people,” before ending abruptly to let his daughter, Tan Su Ling, speak. That he speaks so little at his rally is surprising.
Thankfully, Su Ling, 35, a trained architect, turns on the political rhetoric with panache. “I often feel that my father will not make a very good politician, at least not in the general sense of the word. Politicians often tell you what you want to hear in order to get your votes. For Tan Kin Lian, what you see is what you get," she candidly states.
In this remarkable four-way fight for Singapore’s highest office, there is more than meets the eye.