This appears to be a straightforward case that might have warranted Mr Singh’s resignation before he was stripped of the title, except that the government of Singapore has a history of weaponising the court to punish its political opponents
The following anecdote should interest Sri Lankans who want to mimic Singapore but are unwilling to accept the trade-offs that come with it.
Last week, the Prime Minister of Singapore stripped the opposition leader, Pritam Singh, of his ceremonial title after the court found him lying to Parliament. Mr. Singh, who heads the Centre-Left Workers Party, was found guilty of lying under oath to a Parliamentary committee during a probe into former Parliamentarian Raeesah Khan. Ms Khan was found guilty of lying in Parliament after she claimed to have witnessed Police misbehave towards a rape victim when she accompanied the latter to the Police to complain about alleged abuse.
She later retracted the original claim and confessed that she had only heard the story from a fellow activist. She was fined, forced to resign from her elected office, and barred from running for office for one year.
Mr. Singh was accused of persisting that she stick to her story, even after he knew the circumstances. The court found him guilty and imposed the maximum fine of S$7,000 per count.
This appears to be a straightforward case that might have warranted Mr Singh’s resignation before he was stripped of the title, except that the government of Singapore has a history of weaponising the court to punish its political opponents. Strikingly, Mr. Singh was the first “opposition leader” in Singapore; the title itself was created only in 2020. The opposition holds 12 seats in the 108-member Parliament, dominated by the ruling People’s Action Party (PAP), which has in the past been accused of gerrymandering constituencies. However, with its huge winning margins, it could have won anyway.
For Sri Lankans who wish to emulate Singapore, here are some trade-offs.
Firstly, Singapore’s sanitised political discourse is rooted in its stringent libel laws and a string of other measures that ban unauthorised public assembly and control dissent.
Second, especially relevant for those mesmerised by ethnic harmony in Singapore, Singapore operates one of the most successful systems of ethnic management. Every community and every member has their place within it and an opportunity to self-betterment within its confines. So much so that when the ruling PAP picked its new prime minister, the party stalwarts publicly admitted that Singapore was not yet ready for a non-ethnic Chinese as its Prime minister. So they kicked upstairs, Tharman Shanmugaratnam, the heir apparent, to the ceremonial post of the Presidency, in favour of ethnic Chinese Lawrence Wong as the Prime Minister.
Third, to compensate for these measures of social control, Singapore has generated unprecedented wealth and sustained long-term growth. It is one of the wealthiest countries, grounded on its social peace, political stability, predictable government policies, and business-friendly government.
However, none of these policies could function in isolation. Take one out, and the rest of the system would collapse like a house of cards. At the end, no matter how stringent the state control, none would be sustainable unless it fails to deliver public goods and economic growth at the scale Singapore has achieved. That, however, would not be possible without the scale of control the government has over political discourse. That also makes it hard to replicate in most other places, especially in places like ours, with its loudmouth, confrontational, and dog-eat-dog politics, which is considered the standard-bearer of political freedom.
In retrospect, J.R. Jayawardene sought to emulate Lee Kuan Yew, the founding father of Singapore. However, he started on the wrong foot by launching a witch-hunt against the opposition SLFP, stripping Sirimavo Bandaranaike of civic rights, gerrymandering the electorate, and holding a farcical referendum to extend Parliament’s term,in which the UNP had a 5/6 majority.The push back was devastating and triggered two insurgencies in the North and South.
I have noted here many times, in reference to regular claims of Tamil grievances of discrimination, that when Sri Lanka erupted in Black July in the aftermath of the LTTE ambush of a military convoy in Jaffna, the Attorney General, Chief Justice, the Inspector General of Police, and J.R. Jayawardene’s chief political advisor were all Tamils. Probably, if Sri Lanka had a Singaporean-style ethnic management, instead of unattainable wishes for multicultural unity, we might have been spared a prolonged war. The minorities could still claim those high positions, and S.J.V. Chelvanayagam and Amirthalingam might have died in prison or been sued to bankruptcy. Lee Kuan Yew, in fact, sued his chief political nemesis, Jayaratnam, into bankruptcy.
The Singaporean model as a whole is culturally specific and may not be easily implemented elsewhere. However, there are some measures worth taking inspiration from, though with greater care.
Anyone who has a cursory look at Sri Lankan politics might discover that much of its discourse is dominated by disinformation and outright lies, designed for the momentary political advantage of one party or another.
That conduct is so internalised within the system that many speak in defence of them, instead of being disgusted by those lies.
Why not Sri Lanka introduce strong libel laws and bring in a degree of accountability for what political stakeholders say?
Political lies are not just personal outbursts; they have a disproportionate influence on shaping political discourse and public decisions, including voting. They poison the political culture.
If Sri Lanka had laws similar to Singapore’s, perhaps the lady from the NPP who pledged to bring back Rajapaksa’s funds in Uganda might have been forced to substantiate her claims or face legal consequences.
Similarly, the Rajapaksa acolytes who relish in a malicious campaign to smear the education reforms would have been held accountable for their claims.
The same applies to regular allegations of corruption, which are designed to air time in prime-time news and nothing beyond that. But they distort the entire system of governance, dent public confidence, and undermine investor perception. Then foreign envoys (like the Japanese ambassador, who should, in the first place, have complained to the Bribery Commission) keep regurgitating them, and everyone joins the party.
Corruption is a problem, but Sri Lanka has a problem with an overblown perception of corruption, cultivated through regular smear campaigns (When Singapore went after Ms Khan, that was not so much about the local perception, but for the implications of the country’s international image).
And lies also elect governments, as the NPP should know well. For a party that capitalised on the economic crisis and a hefty dose of misinformation, introducing commonsense libel law might appear hypocritical. However, lies and disinformation continue to poison Sri Lankan political culture. Irrespective of its past conduct, the NPP government should open up a public discourse on effective libel laws and introduce some of them, with guardrails to prevent their abuse by the government itself. That might bring a degree of sanity and exorcise a horde of con artists from politics.
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