Singapore Swing

It’s highly unlikely that Singapore will turn into a Cairo or a Kiev anytime soon. But then, I have been wrong before. For now, Singapore remains an island of remarkable peace and prosperity. 

My first ever trip to Singapore. Tiny, advanced, wealthy, orderly, squeaky clean Singapore. Why have I never been here before, despite having so many friends ? I don’t know. Changi airport is a lot less busy than I expected it to be. Everything is in English. The cabbie speaks flawless English. He is Indian  (will come back to that later), and he comments about my guitar in its padded case. Is it a bass or a … ? I tell him I play lead guitar and sing. He mentions that he used to play, years ago. It’s the first time I’ve met a cabbie who plays guitar. I learn later that all kinds of people become taxi drivers by choice, and it’s quite a lucrative way to make a living in Singapore.

The expressway to the city is one long, straight stretch of perfect road – or tarmac, if you will. I am told later that the dividers, which are made of potted plants, can quickly be removed to make it a fully functional airstrip.

Singapore worries a lot about its security. A swampy island that became independent in 1965 (not necessarily of its own free will), it keeps a close watch on its citizens and is ultra-sensitive to the terrorist elements in Muslim-dominated neighbouring Malaysia and Indonesia.

My hosts live in a luxury high-rise in an upscale neighborhood, as do, I discover, many of my other friends. They are the Indian elite of Singapore, mostly migrated here in the nineties, settled down and became citizens. Their kids all go the same exclusive private school, are widely travelled, take lessons in things like jazz dance and ballet, and head to American and British Universities for higher education ( but only after two years of service in the army for boys, which is something no one likes ).

There is a whole another Singapore as well, comprising people who live in public housing and go to public schools, and a third underclass of migrant workers who work as construction labor, building the shiny new buildings that seem to be coming up all over the place. They are kept out of sight, emerging on weekends to drink and party in places like Little India. There is evidently some pent-up resentment and frustration, which came to the surface earlier this year when riots broke out on Serangoon Road after a drunk labourer was run over by a bus.

The incident shook all of genteel Singapore, a class of individuals used to an orderly, secure, and luxurious lifestyle which is supported by the ubiquitous Filipino maids who speak English and take care of the house while their wealthy masters go to work in banks and make money managing other wealthy people’s money. There is more sub-surface tension, arising from a recent rapid expansion of the population from 3 million to 5 million, with the increase having been largely skilled workers from places like India who occupy the top jobs in a variety of sectors, causing anguish among locals and a pullback on immigration policy by the government.

The government seems to be happily collecting rent from everyone, especially when it comes to luxuries. Singapore is a country that produces nothing, imports everything. It’s an economy driven by the services sector, especially banking. The government wants to regulate everything – housing units, cars on the roads, Filipino maids – and does this by using simple levers like taxes and duties. My host drives a BMW 5 series that cost $ 50,000 to just obtain a permit to own a car – the car itself is a king’s ransom at $ 250,000. I’m stunned by this piece of statistic, and I notice BMWs and other luxury cars everywhere on the roads.

In fact, every car I see seems to be a luxury European car. I guess if you have to pay $ 50 k for a permit to own a car, you are probably wealthy enough to buy a beemer for a quarter of a million. The cost of the housing units is in the stratosphere. I visit another good friend who lives in a ‘black and white’ – pure white colonial bungalows with black trimming that the British used to live in – which sit in oases of manicured and wooded lots in the heart of Singapore. I feel like I’m back in Kolkata, a city known for its British colonial legacy and its Victorian architecture. I am told the government owns these bungalows – there are a few of them in the city – and auctions these as two-year leases at a time. The resale value of the homes, if such an event were to occur, is around $ 35 M.

I continue to drop my jaw repeatedly to the floor when I hear these stats. On a trip to the Ion Mall, I check out prices and am shaken by the $295 price tag for a plain blue Hugo Boss shirt. For someone who spends maybe thirty bucks on a Banana Republic shirt; it’s all too much of sticker shock.

I am in Singapore to attend an IIM alum event, a gathering of over a thousand corporate executives, mostly from Singapore and India, who are there to discuss things like leadership in the 21^st century. I am the oddball in the crowd – I have flown in from Chicago to perform on stage with my old college band from IIM Calcutta, one of whom lives here, and the other who flew in from Seattle.  For the trip, I have packed shorts, T-shirts, sandals and running shoes, and one pair of jeans . I have no idea that the event’s dress code is formal. It’s 95 degrees in the shade outside and I feel like I’m ready to melt even at the thought of a jacket.  I am told that if I am not in a jacket and tie, I will not be allowed to enter the event , and I am particularly interested in listening to the Prime Minister, who is the chief guest.

I have to borrow a set of clothes from a friend, and I’m mad at myself. The Oxford-educated Prime Minister is quite the erudite and articulate man, displaying a towering intellect and an intimate grasp of economic and geo-political issues across the globe , speaks in impeccable English and with complete clarity. I am hugely impressed. I learn too, that top government officials and ministers in Singapore are an elite corps of western-educated individuals who are paid CEO salaries. This evidently reflects the government’s ability to attract the best and the brightest and also reduces and eliminates any temptation for corruption.

I have many friends here in Singapore, and I see many of them over the course of three days. They are all wonderfully gracious, and my host takes me around Singapore one evening to do some sightseeing . I visit Chinatown with its quaint shop houses, and Marina Bay Sands, an ultra-modern complex of three tall buildings on the waterfront with stores, restaurants and an observation deck. These are the two opposites of Singapore (with Serangoon Road sandwiched in-between). The view from the top of the towers is spectacular at night and I get to see the dazzling architecture of waterfront buildings designed to show off the wealth of Singapore. I am also faintly amused at the signs in Tamil on the public transit system – in fact, I can speak in Tamil to anyone and the chances are that I will be understood. It’s a very unique thing about Singapore that I get a huge kick out of. Not to mention the fact that in terms of weather and foliage, it’s exactly like my hometown Chennai.

I learn about the one thing that seems to drive Singapore’s culture- the concept of Kiasu, which can be interpreted as looking for a better deal, or as fear of missing out. I guess they’re  just two sides of the same coin. As an example, if something is being given away free, Singaporeans will line up for it, even if they don’t need it. I have my own Kiasu moment – when I’m offered to choose between paying for a ride up the elevator to the MBS (Marina Bay Sands) observation deck, and free access to the same if I choose to buy a drink at the rooftop bar, I choose the latter (after all, I get free access to the deck), but sadly, I am turned away because I’m in shorts and the bar requires men to be in long pants to be allowed entry.

I leave Singapore wondering idly about a few things. What does it mean to live an entire life in a tiny country where you seem to know everyone?  How long can one tolerate the sterile environment of Singapore, knowing everything and everyone is being watched? What does it do for freedom of expression and the spirit of enterprise when the government pretty much chooses everything for you? What will happen to the banking elite when the existing model of the banking business globally comes to an end ? What will happen if the Singaporean underclass decide one day that they will take it no more ? What happens when public pension funds are no longer adequate to take care of the sick, the underprivileged, and the elderly?

It’s highly unlikely that Singapore will turn into a Cairo or a Kiev anytime soon. But then, I have been wrong before. For now, Singapore remains an island of remarkable peace and prosperity.