Silencing dissent with impunity
Canberra Times
March 29, 2003
CAN THE concept of democracy be effectively transferred to countries with little experience of its workings?
That question has been lurking in the international background since the founding of the United Nations, and may well be driven to the surface by the current terrorist scenario. Dividing the world into good and bad on the basis of countries’ institutions is easy to attempt, but not so easy to achieve.
Singapore is a prime example of the difficulty of applying such a test, and Chris Lydgate’s account of how one man was broken by the methods it used shows that governments can silence dissent quite efficiently without attracting outright condemnation.
Ben Jeyaretnam was 45 and a successful lawyer and former judge in Singapore when he was invited, in 1971, to enter politics as the head of the Workers’ Party. Founded by a former Chief Minister, David Marshall, the party had fallen on hard times in the previous decade. The People’s Action Party, led by Lee Kuan Yew, had been in power for the same period, and had prospered under its public image as the creator of an independent Singapore.
The 1972 election result showed just how well. The People’s Action Party won all 69 seats, and the Workers’ Party an average 24 per cent of the votes in the 27 electorates it contested. Jeyaretnam’s only consolation was that it became the strongest opposition party. It took him another three elections to enter Parliament in 1981 as the first opposition candidate elected since 1963.
It was a significant victory, but he soon learned how difficult it would be to remain in his place. Lee Kuan Yew began immediately to reduce his influence by changing the appointment procedure for Citizens’ Consultative Committees and Residents’ Committees, the principal link between parliamentarians and their electors. They had been controlled traditionally by the local parliamentarian, but the chairmen and advisers would now be selected by the Prime Minister.
The Government clearly over-reacted to the slight hint of a developing democracy, but Jeyaretnam’s tactics did not help. He began to make allegations without substantiation, a characteristic that would dog his political career. In his first parliamentary debate he alleged that the People’s Action Party was using premises provided by the Government and that the Prime Minister had used police vehicles and personnel in his 1980 election campaign.
Challenged by Lee Kuan Yew to provide details, he had to admit that he was simply airing a rumour. Years later he admitted to the Straits Times newspaper that he should have done more homework, but he put it down to his personality. ‘That’s me,’ he said. ‘That’s me fire from the hip.’ But he still asserted his right to ask questions even when he had no evidence to support them.
He increased his majority in the 1984 elections, but government determination to oust him also increased. A longstanding dispute about Workers’ Party funds re-emerged, and Jeyaretnam and Workers’ Party chairman Wong Hong Toy were retried, convicted and sentenced to three months in jail. An appeal reduced the sentence to one month. But it was accompanied by a S$5000 fine, sufficient to disqualify Jeyaretnam from Parliament.
A year later he had not only been barred from Parliament, but stripped of his licence to practise law. It was another 11 years before he could return to Parliament. Even then, at the age of 71, he was not free of the People’s Action Party noose. He was faced with eight libel suits from now Senior Minister Lee Kuan Yew and Prime Minister Goh Chok Tong for his statements at an election rally, and finally required to pay S$100,000 and costs. Three more bankruptcy actions followed, and in 2001 he was again declared bankrupt and finally stripped of his parliamentary seat.
Does his story provide relevant indications of the prospects for democracy in developing countries? Lydgate, an American journalist who spent two years in Singapore, makes it clear that, while Jeyaretnam was his own worst enemy, he was the victim of a campaign by Lee Kuan Yew to crush opposition.
The Singapore Government finally used the more subtle technique of libel actions to bring down their opponent rather than the hammer blows used by neighbouring leader Dr Mahathir to oust his one-time deputy, Anwar Ibrahim, and imprison those demonstrating in support of him. Anwar was found guilty of abuse of power in 1999 and sentenced to six years in prison. A year later he was found guilty on charges of sodomy and sentenced to nine years.
Lydgate points out, however, that Singapore’s less confronting techniques can be just as effective. Discussing Jeyaretnam’s slipshod methods, he puts a cogent argument for such deficiencies. ‘One reason,’ he says, 'is that Jeyaretnam was cut off from the sorts of resources that politicians in most democracies take for granted. ‘He could not rely on advocacy groups, because there are no advocacy groups in Singapore. He could not rely on newspaper accounts, because there are no investigative reporters in Singapore. He had no money to pay researchers; potential volunteers were afraid of being associated with him. He had virtually no staff.’
This is an important and well-researched book, and its significance is well described by human-rights lawyer Geoffrey Robertson in his introduction.
'The criticisms of Singapore in the Western press are often misplaced: they focus on the laws against jaywalking in the streets and urinating in the lifts and dropping chewing-gum wrappers on the pavements, and they only make me wish we had similar laws in Britain.
However, the superficially clean image of the state serves to illustrate a more important truth that this book, by telling Ben Jeyaretnam’s story, brings to light: that suppression of well- intentioned dissent by a government bent on maintaining monopoly of its political power may be achieved within a democratic framework, as well as under a dictatorship.’