Saturday, 31 December 2016

Farewell 2016

If asked for one word to describe the year, I would say "succession". I could have said "passing" for many iconic persons passed away this year but it just doesn't quite capture the fact that their passing made news because they had been hugely successful in their lives. Also succession implies there will be new icons. It is worth reflecting for the moment why I had especially called out those who had died this year. Its not just because they were famous but rather what they were famous for. 

Musicians like Bowie, Michael, Prince not only wrote unforgettable music but performed like no other. I would go so far to pronounce them pioneers in inventing new genres: glam rock, new wave and of course Prince is uncategorisable. Cohen and Frey on the other hand were not as versatile performing but were blessed with so much composing talent that songs like Hallelujah and Hotel California will still find fans long after this.
 
Its not just the music world. The world of literature lost a giant of a man. A moral compass of our time, Elie Wiesel, wrote achingly about the holocaust. If not for him, this most unimaginable of tragedies of the 20th century would have lost a powerful voice.
 
Architecture too lost a heroine. Until Dame Zaha Hadid, the famous architects were all men (Ando, Corbusier, van der Rohe, Wright and of course Gaudi). In fact even fictitious characters (as in Ayn Rand's Fountainhead) were men too. She broke through barriers not just with her sweeping lines but with a bravado not often associated with the female gender.

There are some barriers though that remain unfortunately intact. Hillary Clinton lost the race to be the US's first woman president. She lost to an unlikely candidate whom she and others of her ilk had taken literally but not seriously. Indeed, Trump and quite a few political leaders have herald a new brand of politics where rhetoric and reality will be the redefined. So even though the presidential succession did not happen as I expected, it nonetheless is a succession that will redefine the global political landscape.
 
At home, new thresholds had also been crossed this year. M completed her secondary school in flying colours. Top GPA, with school and state awards to boot! J completed his basic military training and officer cadet school top of his class and picked up some military and state awards too. D is writing yet another chapter in her career moving ever closer to her dream design job. I too moved on to one of the top-most table in my firm. But for D and me, at this stage of our lives, its more about how well we have set up the future. On this score, 2016 showed us we need not worry so much. Yes, they could be more intense than we like but importantly, their values are soundly founded (thanks to D) and their wings are pointed to a suitably aspirational height (thanks to yours truly). 
 
So, 2016 is indeed the conclusion of an era, and immediately the start of a new one. We all can do our part to create more icons who can change the world, in our own small way, for the better.
 
We wrapped up the year with the family. First in Malacca with a Christmas dinner (where we also had a very special golden anniversary celebration* for mum and dad) and now in Singapore on New Year's Eve lunch.



* Video made by M & D: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDoxvBoKTPM&feature=youtu.be

Wednesday, 28 December 2016

Would you believe I once had a 27-inch waist?

It's been a bit of a life-long struggle. I was a heavy 8lb 2oz baby at birth but generally a scrawny toddler. Things starting going awry when it took me awhile to hit puberty. A number of my classmates in Standards 5 and 6 in BHES were experiencing early growth spurts and my mum expecting mine to come shortly starting feeding me like I needed the calories. Well, my face started getting rounder (and captured for posterity in photos).


I did start growing through puberty at around 13 and did stretch out a bit and caught up with some of my (first to grow) friends, though generally still at less than average in height. But at least I was no longer pudgy.


That way I remained for a good 10 years. In fact I was slimmer then (less buff too!) than J is now. So much so, that none of us could believe how small my old scout uniform was.

The trouble started not in junior college or university (and yes I did have a 27-inch waist and could carry a white pair of slim cut Levi's like a rock star!) but it was the entertaining in the airlines industry that did me in. I went from a sub 70kg to touching 80kg in the 90s and have remained there since. In boxing terms, I would have gone from welterweight to middle weight to light heavyweight.

But the horror of horrors was awaiting me. This morning as I stepped on the scales, an act I have been assiduously avoiding the last few months (knowing the feasting I had done in Athens, Hydra, Paris and most recently over Christmas in Malacca), I was confronted with a number it has never shown me before. I am now well and truly in the heavyweight class, a good 20% above my ideal weight.

I had sensibly adjusted my ideal weight (owing to a stout, muscular 'ahem' built) to about 77kg (and allowed a permissible range of 75 to 79kg).80 was to be the alarm bell. At 84, I am more than alarmed.

And this is after a year of disciplined exercising. In fact, I had run 400kms, and with the distances covered from cycling, walking, swimming and rowing, it'd top 600km. In fact, I do enjoy running and recently did so in Chicago along the lakefront and in the Greek national gardens. So am not short of expending energy. Its the intake that way exceeds the output that's all.


So, here's a simple resolution. One which D made for me early this year. She didn't even specifiy a weight target. She simply said "lose the gut". Being more mathematically inclined, I would resolve to get back to my sensibly adjusted ideal weight of 77kg. Certainly way before my 50th birthday.

So, here's to a smaller waist!

Friday, 25 November 2016

Island life

We have now cruised out of Hydra. Spent another four hours in Athens (at the Acropolis Museum, the Panathainaikos Stadium and a satisfying Souvlaki lunch) driven around by Tasus for a friendly finish of Greece. This ancient nation so steeped in myth is truly wonderous. Socrates once said "wisdom begins with wonder" and there is much wonder here to write cleverly about. As someone who writes, and aspiring to write well, I know when I come across a good write. There is of course the quintessential Gerald Durrell on his life with his family and other animals on Corfu. Hydra is another Greek island teeming with animals: cats, donkeys, horses, dogs, sheep and chickens. So, one expects a good story. This one, by Antonia Quirke, writing for Conde Nast, is so good, I had to reproduce it here. 



SAILING INTO THE SMALL SARONIC ISLAND of Hydra in early summer, the unrivalled colour I see is yellow. The port - a perfect horseshoe - backs into a high amphitheatre dotted with 18th-century mariners' mansions painted citrine, picked out now by the morning sun. It is a Rip Van Winkle town, cute-warm and coiled around dazzling-bright labyrinths of steep steps and slender streets.

I arrive to hear that summer so far has been a flow of clear-blue days, and that Leonard Cohen was around last night handing out olives and ouzo. As Cohen has lived here on and off since the 1960s, it's not impossible… but best ask the island's keeper of stories, harbour master Pandelis, about such things.

Prodigiously bearded and continually harassed by sailors wanting a mooring in the snug port, he's being followed about today by the king of Malaysia. Apparently the king of the Netherlands is on the lookout for him too, not that Pandelis demonstrates any favouritism, standing in his small tug yelling instructions to fishermen and kings alike, happy to park any one of them next to a semi-derelict vessel filled with nautical junk.

There is no denying that in some months of the year Hydra has immense glamour. In the high season, weeks pass when its port feels almost like a little St Tropez, full of visitors lolling over the day's first glass of Champagne. Other times, you'll find only a few old men playing backgammon, and smooching couples off the early hydrofoil from Athens ordering pastries for breakfast


On the cobbles, a line of donkeys waits patiently to carry suitcases up to the hotels and apartments. There are no land vehicles here, not even pushbikes. Banned for all time. Hydriots feel about the wheel the way the Amish do about Velcro: they know of its existence and have determined that with it comes the fall. How wise this has proved. No wheels have meant no heavy construction or gigantic hotels; the island can never be overcrowded or spoiled through overdevelopment, and has the atmosphere of a long-cherished and deeply quixotic place, a place far, far away, even though it is separated from the Peloponnese by just a narrow strip of water. There are no street names on Hydra either. You simply set off and see what lies around the next corner. Flora's cafĂ©, perhaps, in a bright square full of lemon trees, with its pots of exquisite cold rice pudding spiced with cinnamon. Or a sweet supermarket where the freezer bursts hilariously with octopus tentacles and the honey comes in tins stacked in a quivering 10ft pyramid.

I'm so hot and lazy. Hardier friends return from Hydra trim from trekking across the island to the handful of pebbled beaches along the coast, although most people take a water taxi for a few euros. For centuries ancient Hydra was nothing but an obscure pirates' lair and you'll find no temple ruins to visit. There is blissfully nothing to do, really, save sleep and swim and order hot baked peppers and drink retsina until your tongue is raw. Or perhaps take a turn around the mansion of a great patriotic seafaring family, semi- museums hung with the rapiers of daring local captains.

Hydra has long attracted artists and art money. In cliff-side galleries in June and July, New Yorkers show short films on the subject of dislocation to an excess of global super-collectors, after which everybody troops off to a taverna and gets un-Americanly drunk. The island seems to absorb this fashionable display of chatter and ambition, and enjoy it enormously for a while, but is just as happy when everybody melts away back to Milan or Brooklyn.

But no activity on Hydra compares to a trip out in a boat. The island is only 50 kilometres square and completely riveting when seen from the water, despite not being particularly lush or landscaped with the comely vines and olive trees of other Greek islands. Still, whichever way you turn, the impact is captivating.

Late one afternoon I join Tasos and Eleanora - a fisherman and his girl - searching for squid on a simple cruiser. Chugging out of the port along the coast we pass the popular Hydronetta bar on the cliffs where people are already gathering for sundowners and, moments later, the house where Byron once stayed ('On old Aegina's rock and Hydra's isle/The god of gladness sheds his parting smile'). Sere thistles and bright Judas trees punctuate the nearby shore close to grand villas and more modest cottages overhung with harebells and gentians. After a few minutes, the distinctive landmark of a squat terracotta mansion in the village of Kamini that once belonged to a wealthy publisher but is now used for storage and is full of buoys and ropes, and a defunct but magnificent glitterball rescued from the sea.

A little further along, we pass the chapel of Saint Kyprianos, made from mud and wine and constructed long ago in gratitude by the survivors of a terrible storm, and beyond that a cove where five goats, almost mythically huge - really the size of Shetland ponies - play along the shore. Standing whooping on rocks, a group of kids watch a menacingly handsome adolescent known locally as Wolf Boy free-diving from a crag, arching his body like a rainbow and then sharply straightening seconds before impact. Everybody explodes in applause. ('What goes through your mind when you hit the water?' I ask him one night after bumping into him on a dancefloor in town. Pulling a mock-dramatic face he leans into my ear and whispers, 'the full moon'.)


Half an hour passes as we hug the coast. On the distant hills I spot a house, very high and white and alone. By foot it would take perhaps two days to get there from the port. Pine trees, heat, cicadas. What happens when someone gets old or sick and they can no longer walk down for food? 'Oh, they just wait,' shrugs Tasos, lounging with his arm around Eleanora, pausing for the optimum moment to drop his fishing lines strung with the fake silver fry so loved by greedy squid.

I don't know why my heart stands quite so still - it is only a house on a hill - but the patience. The peace.

As the afternoon draws to a close, everything beyond the lulling shores is washed in a plumbago haze. The mainland in the near distance shimmers through a silvery curtain of atmosphere. Athens is just 68km away, although it feels infinitely remote. Even the pretty ketch now bobbing into view seems almost a chimera. Plonked on the stern, a pot of basil; above it, a bikini hung up to dry. Nobody seems to be onboard.

Oliver Pilcher

Terrace at the interior designer Tino Zervudachi's house

Hydra is the birthplace of five Greek prime ministers and the first president of the Second Hellenic Republic. I've often wondered why that was so, this relatively barren rock with one town and a handful of hamlets reached by foot or donkey. Some places are just like that: powerfully and romantically unusual. Its current mayor - the son of a grocer - grew up on the island but won a scholarship to read philosophy at Cambridge, returning home to be elected to office at just 36. I see him one day carrying a pile of books, and he shows me a photograph of himself looking scholastic in his room at university. On the walls, nothing but the Hydriot revolutionary flag.

I GO ON A DAWN MULE RIDE UP to the high Monastery of St Matrona to take carrots to 70-something Sister Nectaria. Leading the little expedition is 26-year-old blonde Harriet who came to Hydra aged 10 from Uxbridge with her mother and has the best-groomed donkeys on the island. On the way she tells me about a secret valley where in the winter, feeling lonely, she used to hunt for quail and hare, and where there is an ancient chapel that had long lost its bell. One morning she met a man out hunting too, Vasili - a Hydriot much older than her, warm-hearted - and they fell in love and he restored the bell in her honour. Now they are engaged and 'go to the valley together to listen to its peal'. She says all this unselfconsciously, unaware of how absurdly enchanting it sounds. Vasili, brown eyes full of worry, dotingly leads our mules through banks of bracken and myrtle and masses of what looks like a wild, thorny buttercup hung with dew-shivering spiders' webs.

Up at the monastery, sisters Nectaria and Matrona, dressed in black habits and veils, have been awake for hours. They're the only nuns left here now (across all of Greece there is a crisis in recruiting to the religious life), resident since they were 11 and 14 when, consumed with heavenly duty, they walked up the hill to present themselves. Working contentedly at their sewing machines, the nuns are full of news about a rare trip to a hospital in Athens where Matrona, homesick and bewildered, had to drag a mesmerised Nectaria out of the flower shops off Syntagma Square.

Sitting on the courtyard wall we drink tea and gaze out across the island: sky-blue as an agapanthus. Behind us, dry peaks burn; far below, the curved lick of deserted and glassyMandraki bay. Nectaria turns to smile dotingly at Harriet, nodding her approval to Vasili. 'We stole her from England,' she rocks, patting Harriet's hair as it gleams pale in the sun. 'We took her and kept her.'


Back down on the shore, in peaceful Kamini, a short walk along the path from the port, I have what I think of now as the perfect Aegean afternoon, starting with a binge at the smallest restaurant I've ever seen: four tables and a menu of three dishes written on a chalkboard strung with dried sage. I am served fresh anchovies and giant fava beans, and creamy slabs of cheese, Greece teaching me yet again that feta only ever comes one of two ways: either a salty chore or a thing you can't stop forking until you faint.

Oliver Pilcher

Rafalia's pharmacy

After lunch, a swim, simply stepping off nearby rocks into the sea. Far beneath my feet are sponges of such rare quality Hydriot merchants sold them the world over for centuries and they still come up from abyssal depths the colour of caramel, smelling of kelp forests. Even Sophia Loren couldn't resist, clutching several to her dĂ©colletĂ© after a dive scene in the 1957 movie Boy on a Dolphin, which was filmed here. Half the island appeared in it and everybody still talks about it like it happened yesterday. Time on Hydra is relative, ever-deepening and drifting. For the rest of that lovely, lost afternoon, Kamini is siesta-deserted. Next to someone's abandoned towel on the rocks, a handful of fresh apricots.

That evening along the waterfront there's the gossipy murmur of newly arrived summer crowds. The billionaire art collector Dakis Joannou (a long-time visitor to the island) has just docked in a fibreglass tank designed by Jeff Koons - enormously blue and yellow, steaming menacingly through the water like a cubist icebreaker. And then, soon after, a gentleman's motor yacht - the Mabrouka - which had belonged to Lawrence of Arabia, enveloped in the resin-drenched smell of a newly renovated ship.

Girls on their way to an opening at the DESTE Project Space wear Balmain dresses and sexy-fantastic shoes. American teenagers on a tour of the Argolic Gulf, their pink skin glowing freckled as foxgloves, step off boats, daring each other and shouting. The lights of the port enrich and refine the many colours until past midnight when a low-hanging moon turns the sea to iron and outside Papagalos bar the drinkers' faces flicker in mirrored oil lamps, somewhere between the waking world and the world of dreams.

Much later, after cocktails and dancing to bad Greek pop music at Red Club, I lose my way in the backstreets. Because high buildings within the harbour protect the port, nights here have a drugging, winey warmth, and bursts of hibiscus everywhere black-red in the shadows. Then whitewashed walls and pretty apartments and squares of long-deserted rococo merchants' mansions shuttered and still. Without scooters or cars, the quiet on Hydra has a discernible pulse. Yet… from an open window a little further along comes the sound of John Denver's 'Leaving on a Jet Plane', and I make my way down the street to poke my head through.

Salvaged maritime miscellany muddles the room. Water-damaged paintings, chests and whistles. And there is Pandelis frying potatoes, standing on hazardous floorboards. We both hoot at the surprise of seeing him in a house rather than yelling from a harbour wall. 'Oh, dig out those photos of Sophia Loren,' I plead. He was an extra in Boy on a Dolphin when he was 10, an experience he speaks of rarely, as though such precious memories ought to remain shrouded. On the cabinet by my head, a formal portrait of him at around that age wearing a little white peasant's smock, standing outside the church of Saint Dimitrios, where there is an esteemed deacon called Manoles who chants the liturgy every Sunday in a voice so transportingly Byzantine that women stand outside the door weeping into their hankies.

But Pandelis waves me off.

Oliver Pilcher

Tomato salad at Kodylenia's taverna

'It was her body double,' he tuts as I duck away. 'She was much more beautiful. Her body double!'

Then, just the cobbled street, and a waiter sweeping mounds of purple blossom and squashed figs.

Tuesday, 22 November 2016

Now & Then

We are now on board Flying Cat 6, here in the ferry terminal at Piraeus. After two and a half splendid days in Athens with mythology in our heads and gastronomy in our tummies, we're going to spend the next few days in relative calm in the surrounding islands. We will be heading shortly to Hydra and from there maybe head out to nearby islands.

Our time in Athens this time is all about the view. From dinner to breakfast and all the time in between (mostly walking), we are treated sumptuously with the majestic view of the Acropolis, not least from our excellent hotel, King George.


I was last here over a quarter century ago, with backpack, my then Girlfriend D and her newly graduated university friends. Now, I'm here with D & M, and between us we have over 60kgs of stuff in 3 large and 3 carry on luggage! How times have changed. 

Now, D plans the itinerary with the help of Trip Advisor, a crowd sourced travel portal. Back then, I relied on Lonely Planet, which by the way, still has the best description of places have in store for the traveller, like this ...

Ancient and modern, with equal measures of grunge and grace, bustling Athens is a heady mix of history and edginess. Iconic monuments mingle with first-rate museums, lively cafes and al fresco dining – and it’s downright fun.

The historic centre is an open-air museum, yet the city’s cultural and social life takes place amid these ancient landmarks, merging past and present. The magnificent Acropolis rises above the sprawling metropolis and has stood witness to the city’s many transformations.

Post-Olympics Athens, even in the face of current financial issues, is conspicuously more sophisticated and cosmopolitan than ever before. Stylish restaurants, shops and hip hotels, and artsy-industrial neighbourhoods and entertainment quarters such as Gazi, show Athens’ modern.

We didn't wander into Gazi but did navigate our way through Psiri, relying on D's amazing geospatial intelligence. She set us up really well for this trip. The last two days we joined two wonderful tours. The first on the myths of Ancient Greece, all aimed to manage the politics of the day. The second a gastronomic tour, showcasing local favourites like the Topaki and Souvlaki. Both minds and bodies were filled. Now, on to the next stage of our vacation.




Saturday, 19 November 2016

Waiting ...

Salvador Dali painted his sister gazing out of a window to the sea&landscape beyond. I liked it so much I bought a poster reproduction of it. It showed his skills as a classical artist before he went all macabre. It also had a certain poignancy to it.

This is the same sentiment I felt observing M staring out of the porthole on our flight from Paris to Athens. The skyscape outside is a wondrous sight to behold. But I wonder, what's on her mind...


 


As a boy, I too enjoyed moments like this. Especially when at the window seat in my dad's Datsun 120Y as he drove us around town or to/from Batang Melaka. I would daydream about being the star performing on stage to the music that is playing on the car's 8-track. To you Millennials, that is the music format that succeeded vinyl, especially in its portability and preceded the even more versatile cassette tape. Pretty unimaginable to those growing up in the digital music era, I suppose.

The past month, I've been stocking up on vinyl records. My collection now is well over 200 records (including some of my dad's which I grew up listening to) and a good number are classics voted to be amongst the TOP 500 albums of all time, by Rolling Stone magazine, no less. My kids, like me, function well to music, whether in the background or in the foreground. Music is a good friend to me. Like wine and whisky, it calms when I'm agitated. It soothes when I'm sad. It provides company when I'm lonely. It heightens my joy when I'm happy. 

Right now though, I have no music on hand. And I am a bit vexed that our luggage are probably not on board on account of poor transfer procedures at Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport. Architecturally splendid, but process-wise, a bit stupid. Lost baggage is a pet peeve of mine, way back from my airline days when I know how chaotic the bag handling area is.

I am seated at the aisle seat, my preferred location for ease of access. That means no window gazing and poignant reflection moment. As the pilot prepares to land the aircraft, I am hoping that our bags made it and if not, comes the time of waiting...

We travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us

I have been madly busy lately. The good sort, though. Actually, is there any other kind? I just sold a project with a client I've been cultivating for years. It's a real accomplishment, seeing the efforts bear fruit. After the euphoria, comes the responsibility of delivering to the expectations both he and I had. So much so, that as I took this long planned vacation with D & M to Athens and Paris, I felt conflicted. 

My family, like me, are all blessed (or shall I say cursed) with a deep sense of obligation. So, you can imagine the dilemma I faced trying to fulfill my promise to all that I care about. So, as I sat in the SilverKris Kris Lounge before flying off, I wrote to the client:
"I wanted to convey this personally to you because I know this is important to you and to demonstrate that I am focussed on the project, remotely and of course am on the ground physically as much as possible. My team of course are on the ground constantly and so are the partners as we ramp up towards launching our journeys and use cases."

It's quite clear this trip is not an escape life. But rather it's about maximising it. So, there you go, the ultimate work-life balance. 

And nothing quite speaks to steady equilibrium more than D, who spent the anniversary of her birth on board and SQ helped me arrange a nice surprise! As they were preparing it, I had to stall a bit but I think I did a pretty good job with a good credible story about how we should meet at the exit of the jetway as we disembark the plane. While on the plane, more than 30000 feet in the air, travelling at over 800 km/h in European air space, we took a nice photo in the cabin to mark the occasion, and M thoughtfully stretched her arm, creating space for her brother.
 

Yes, this vacation starts with the notable absence of J, now that he is in the armed forces has limited off days and even less permission to vacation overseas. Thankfully, he will be having fun too, his friends are coming over to the house for barbecue. It will be much needed relief for him to unwind and relax after a difficult exercise in the officer cadet school. The good thing about him is he has the courage to try new things, the strength to see them through and the humility to learn from whatever has transpired. In this way, he is not discouraged. His heart is hopeful and happy.

Photo credit: brucelee.com


Speaking of hearts, we have been on holidays without him before, starting with a long weekend in Maldives 5 years ago where M wrote in the sand, "Kor, wish you were here". We missed him too in the week we took to Geneva and London two years ago. So this is a hat trick of vacation with just the three of us.

Watch this space on our experiences maxing our lives in the upcoming blog entries!

Wednesday, 16 November 2016

Itinerary

Singapore. Tokyo. Chicago. Seoul. Kuala Lumpur.
Start. 6 hours (flying) + 4 hours (on the ground). 13 + 40 hours. 13 + 5. Finish.
SQ636. NH112. OZ235. D7507.
Singaporean. Japanese. Korean. Malaysian.
A. B. C. B.
4 hectic days.
1 crazy trip.
Yet, everything as planned and mostly to expectation ... except Malaysian carrier better than Korean! Reminds me of the good old days (a-la 'Ola Bola') when Malaysia was really besting their Northern Asian Peninsula Counterpart 


Saturday, 12 November 2016

Societies


Maybe George Yeo's historical arc of a restrospective contains the answer.

A SENSE OF SELF IN AN AGE OF GLOBALIZATIONz
S Rajaratnam Lecture by George Yeo, 11 Nov 2016
 
 
Introduction
 
Having left MFA over 5 years ago, this feels like a homecoming.  After spending more than a decade in the Foreign Ministry, foreign affairs and diplomacy have become a part of me.  I am honoured to be invited back as one of your own.
 
Sometimes, when I get animated about matters concerning Singapore's foreign policy, my wife reminds me that I am no longer in office and can I please be more detached in expressing my views to friends and colleagues in Singapore and Hongkong.  
 
Identity
 
Human identity is a strange thing.  Next month, I will address the International Teochew Doctors Association Conference.  I was intrigued to receive the invitation some months ago.  The doctors refer to PhD holders.  What has it got to do with being Teochew?  If it is Teochew food or Teochew opera, I could understand but "Teochew doctors" seemed a bit strange. I did not reply immediately.  A few weeks later, I was officially admitted into the HK Teochew Association.  I must confess that I applied to join principally because it has a good Teochew restaurant which members are entitled to dine in.  When I arrived for the induction, one of the Association leaders immediately asked me if I would be attending the Teochew Doctors Association Conference in Singapore.  Oh, this is bigger than I thought.  On the wall of the main dining room, I saw pictures of patrons and donors from prominent Teochew families going back decades including the picture of a young Li Ka-shing.  Some were from my own ancestral village of Anbu. That night, I replied that I would be taking part in the December conference after being assured that I won't have to speak in the Teochew dialect.
 
Each of us has multiple identities.  They run deep and are important to us.  These identities could be religious, national, ethnic, tribal or personal but they are not to be trifled with.  Among close friends, it is all right to make fun of a person's identity but, even so, one has to be careful.  
 
Depending on the situation, some identities become more important than others.  When young Singaporean men enter National Service, they have their hair cut very short.  Parents visiting their sons in BMT have difficulty recognizing them because they all look alike.  There is a reason for this, which is to acculturate them to a highly disciplined organization.  When we want individuals to have a strong group identity, we make them wear uniform and suppress their other identities.
 
This imposed discipline is not natural.  Once the discipline is taken away, or in a context where the higher identity is unimportant, the deeper identities assert themselves.   We see this immediately in NS soldiers who ORD.  But, after two years, the SAF leaves its imprint on their identity.  When they are mobilized, they quickly fall into line again.  This NS programming in Singapore men is obvious when they are overseas especially in an emergency.
 
Cycles of History
 
Human society goes through cycles.  In response to challenges, human society can become highly organized, sometimes into empires.  Elaborate hierarchies are established.  Those who conform are affirmed and rewarded.  Those who don't are put down or punished.  When Qin Shihuang unified China more than two thousand years ago, scholars who advocated divergent ideas were buried alive and books were burnt so that there was a single orthodoxy.  The unification of China enabled the economy to become much more productive.  With a national system of roads and canals, and the standardization of weights and measures, Qin China made possible an elaborate division of labour on a continental scale.  Since then, every time China was reunified, it quickly became the world's biggest economy.  
 
However, the harsh rule of Qin Shihuang did not last long after him.  His son was toppled and Han replaced Qin. An empire maintained by draconian law and the frequent use of force was replaced by a softer system based on Confucianist values.  The unbending legalist principle of fa (ćł•)was replaced by the Confucianist ideal of proper behaviour, li(礼).  Thus if a prince behaves in a noble way, the people will accept his rule, naturally.  If a father is a good father, the sons will be good sons, naturally.  Of course, this was often not the case. Carrots and sticks had still to be used for effective governance but what was constantly held up as the ideal was proper behaviour.  
 
Chinese history goes through long periods of unity followed by long periods of disunity.  When it is united, its productivity is awesome.  But when it is divided, the chaos is equally awesome.  During the periods of disunity and dispersal, local Chinese communities continue to be held together by Confucianist values of li.   Today, new Chinese diaspora communities sprouting in Europe, Africa and South America show similar characteristics.  This gives Chinese people a deep identity which, contains within it, a belief that the ideal world is one where the entire world is one big happy family.  
 
The Arabs have a similar longing for unity, strange though this may seem when one thinks of the Middle East today.  There is a famous Arab Bedouin saying:  I against my brother; my brother and I against my cousins; my cousins, brothers and I against the world.  Islam arose out of Arab culture and gave it a higher unity in the umma.   The hope for Arab unity is never extinguished; the Islamic ideal of a universal caliphate is not a hope, it is a millenarian quest.  
 
Some years ago, I accompanied members of the Singapore Arab Association to the Yemen.  I combined it with an official visit to what was then a peaceful, united country.  The Foreign Minister Dr Al Kirby, a medical doctor, was my host in Sana’a, a wonderful human being. We first spent two days in the Wadi Hadramaut where many of the Arabs in Southeast Asia hail from originally.  Most of the Arab Syed's in Southeast Asia are descendants of a common ancestor Syed Ahmed bin Isa al-Muhajir, himself a tenth descendent of the Prophet, who travelled from Basra and settled in the Hadhramaut, a thousand years ago.  In our delegation was Dr Ho Eng Seng, a scholar from Penang, who wrote an interesting book on the Syed's of the Hadhramaut called "The Graves of Tarim".  Eng Seng is now the Director of our Middle East Institute.  An essential ritual for a visit by Hadhrami Arabs to the Hadhramaut is the recitation of certain prayers by a Syed at the tomb of Syed Ahmed, the Muhajir.  The only Syed in our delegation was Alwi Aidid, a Hadhrami from Penang, son of a Chinese mother.  So it fell upon him to say the prayers.  Normally a good-humoured friend, he was all coiled up that day.  It seemed as if the entire burden of his ancestors were on his shoulders.  After the obligatory prayers were said, he was his old relaxed self again.  I bought many copies of Eng Seng's book and gave it to my Arab friends including Ali Alatas, Alwi Shihab and Hamid Albar.
 
In Southeast Asia, the prestige of the Syed's go up and down depending on political circumstances.   Malay Sultans were eager to have them as sons-in-law so that their grandchildren would become descendants of the Prophet.  This history of Hadhrami Syed's marrying into Malay royal families is well-recorded in "The Graves of Tarim".  In Indonesia, the Syed's had to play down their ancestry because of republicanism.  But they know who they are and maintain certain rituals and traditions in the family.  There was an Indonesian politician of Arab descendant whom I suspected to be a Syed.  I decided to ask him point blank one day.  When he replied that he was, I passed him a copy of Eng Seng's book.  His immediate reaction was to turn to the index page of his family's name.
 
These deeper identities of human beings will become more important in the new age of globalization.
 
Fragmentation and Neural Networks
 
Technological change is undermining hierarchies everywhere and an important reason for the anger against institutions based on hierarchies.  This is a big subject now commonly subsumed under the phrase "The Fourth Industrial Revolution".  In the past, institutions were maintained by ritual, by fear, by mystification, by hypocrisy, sometimes by outright lies.  With cameras and microphones now ubiquitous, this is no longer possible.  Those who pretend to be what they are not get quickly exposed and laughed at in the social media.  
 
The support for Brexit expressed popular frustration with the loss of control to Brussels, to institutions so complicated that they no longer enjoy the affection of ordinary people.  Thus, the larger issue of Brexit is not the UK but the nature of the European construction itself.  In their hearts, the Europeans remain a collection of tribal peoples who are proud of their distinct identities.  The sense of Roman citizenship, which was an overlay, disappeared a long time ago.  Although the Western Roman Empire was reincarnated in the Roman Church, Christianity as a higher identity uniting Europeans lost its force during the religious wars which culminated in the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648.  The anti-clericalism of the French Revolution in 1789 spread into many parts of Europe.
 
In the US, the election of Donald Trump reflected a widespread loss of trust in the institutions which have made the US the most stable country in the world.  Great institutions are never easily changed or dismantled.  There must first be a period of creative destruction which means years of political upheaval and unhappiness. It will not be easy to break up encrusted vested interests.
 
We are seeing fragmentation everywhere.  The nation-state itself is weakening as talent, capital and knowledge become more mobile. Patriotism based on the multinational state is weakening. The digital revolution is dramatically redistributing power in human society.  Today, good teachers learn from their students; good parents learn from their children.  Political or corporate leaders can no longer act as if they have a monopoly of knowledge, wisdom and moral authority.  
 
Fragmentation, however, does not dissolve into chaos.  The fragments are still held together by deeper identities which them link up across political borders, and across economic and cultural domains into complex neural networks. The apps on our smart phones are a manifestation of such network formation.  For good or for ill, people are linking up to others with similar identities or interests.  Being physically together no longer ensures interaction.  Through the smart phone, the passengers in a train are each in his own world.  We have become comfortable ignoring people around us. Sometimes, one gets the same feeling even around a family dining table.
 
The growth of networks creates new challenges.  The Internet makes it easier to extend networks around the world.  Birds of the same feather seek out each other.  The Internet can broaden our minds but it can also narrow them.  Those who have a deep interest in particular subjects are fed more material on the same subjects and encouraged to network with others who share them.  That's how self-radicalization happens.  
 
New Challenges
 
The governance of networks is difficult because they straddle national jurisdictions.  The dominant form of governance in the world today is through national governments. No government has full control over the Internet. International cooperation is difficult and slow.  During the Cold War, it was the US which led the non-Communist world.  Today, the world is become increasingly multipolar calling into question US leadership.  Superpower leadership is costly, having to be backed by expensive military power.  Both at the national and international levels, governance has become more complicated and less effective.
 
The Soviet Empire was the first major casualty of the Fourth Industrial Revolution.  Once the central governance structure cracked, the countries of Central and Eastern Europe became independent, and within the Soviet Union itself, each republic became an independent state.  Those new countries which are held together by a deeper sense of identity are stable, including the core of Russia itself.  Others like Yugoslavia broke up into smaller pieces.  Even a smaller piece like Bosnia-Herzegovina would not hold together without strong outside intervention.  
 
For a time, the US seeing itself as the sole superpower, the New Rome as some neo-conservatives call it, intervened to re-create the Middle East on the basis of democracy.  September 11 became a reason to remove Saddam Hussein in Iraq and the Arab Spring a reason to remove Muammar Gaddhafi in Libya and Bashar al-Assad in Syria.  It has been an absolute disaster.  Without strong, brutal leaders holding tight the reins of power, these countries broke up into warring factions.  Even as we meet today, horrible battles are taking place in Aleppo and Mosul, sister cities with long histories.  
 
In Libya, the deep identity is tribal and the conflict there is therefore mostly tribal in nature.  In such a situation without a dictator, it is Salafi Islam which is most able to unite tribes against common enemies.  Ironically, the beneficiaries of the removal of Gaddafi are groups like Al Qaeda and ISIS acting against the West.
 
It was the underestimation by the Americans of the depth of the Sunni-Shiite divide in the Middle East that led to civil war and external interference in Iraq and Syria.  An Arab ruler in the Gulf once told me that the most stable border in the entire region is that between Turkey and Iran. It is the same border which separated the Ottomans from the Safavids.  The Safavids made Iran a Shiite country five hundred years ago.  Children were taught to curse the first three caliphs - Abu Bakr, Umar and Uthman.  Ali was the rightful successor of the Prophet. Safavid Iran became a shiite kingdom.  The Ottomans were Sunni.  The agreement between them was that no Shiite in the Ottoman realm would bear arms.  In this way, the Shiittes in the Ottomon realm could not easily become a fifth column for Iran.  This kept the peace.  When the American coalition invaded Iraq, a major objective was the transfer of power to the Shiite majority.  An old understanding had been unwound with cataclysmic repercussions across the entire Fertile Crescent. Iran benefited while alarm bells rang in the Saudi Kingdom. The predominantly Sunni cities of Aleppo and Mosul are right now being recaptured by soldiers who are predominantly Shiite or Shiite-led, one with the help of Russia, the other with the help of the US.  
 
It may be that Humpty Dumpty would have fallen anyway, eventually.   But, if we had known how fragile the shell is, we might have found a better, gentler way to bring Humpty Dumpty down from the wall.  But all this is in hindsight.  It is easy to be wise after the event.  
 
Here in Southeast Asia, we have to be mindful of not riding roughshod over deep identities.  We ignore these identities at our peril. Indonesia's relatively smooth transition to a modern democracy could not have been foreseen during the Asian financial crisis when the vast country was in danger of breaking up.  If there had been civil war, Singapore would not be left in peace.  After East Timor became independent, successive Indonesian Presidents had the wisdom to accommodate the Acehnese.  I remember talking to President Abdurrahman Wahid when he visited Singapore.  As the Minister in attendance, I was in the car with him.  His touching wish was for an agreement which enables the Acehnese to feel that the land they live on is their own.  After the Boxing Day tsunami, President Yudhoyono held the Indonesian Army back so that Vice President Jusuf Kalla could negotiate a peace agreement with GAM.  Pak Jusuf, who monitored proceedings from Jakarta through two mobile phones, asked Minister Hamid Awaludin to invite GAM leaders in Helsinki for an informal meeting to break the ice first and build up trust before the start of negotiations.  There can be no stable peace without the respect and accommodation of differences.
 
The challenge of the ethnic groups in Myanmar is an ongoing struggle.  Many Western and Islamic countries are pressuring Daw Aung San Suu Kyi to solve the Rohingya problem in Rakhine State.  There is an urgent need to ameliorate the suffering of the Rohingyas but this is a difficult political issue.  Daw Suu cannot settle the Rohingya issue without first achieving a peace agreement with the other minority ethnic groups who collectively make up one third of the population.  When her father Aung San signed the Panglong Agreement with the seven most important minority groups in 1947 on the eve of independence, which included the Rakhines, Bengalis were recognized as an ethnic minority but not Rohingyas.  The ethnic issue is further complicated by the fact that many ethnic groups straddle the borders with Bangladesh, India, China and Thailand.  
 
Myanmar's peaceful transition from a military government to a democratically elected government is a miracle which could not have been achieved without the patient support and understanding of ASEAN and other countries.  What is needed now is economic development without which there can be no solution to the ethnic problem.  During Daw Suu's recent visit to China, China agreed to play a helpful role.  Earlier attempts to have a peace agreement without involving China could not succeed.  For every Kachin living in Myanmar, there are two living in China.  For every Wa living in Myanmar, there is another living in China.  
 
 
ASEAN's Respect for Diversity
 
ASEAN is culturally the most diverse region in the world because of its complex geography.  As a result of the Australian plate crashing into Asian tectonic plates, the entire region between the Himalayas and Australia is corrugated into high mountain ridges, deep valleys, indented coasts and the world’s biggest archipelago, with strangely shaped islands like Mindanao, Sulawesi and Halmahera.  Over the centuries, tribes have migrated southwards from the Chinese mainland, down the peninsulas and into the islands.  Some were forced up the mountains.  As empires waxed and waned on opposite sides, they brought to our shores aspects of their civilization and bits of their DNA.
 
There can only be peace in Southeast Asia if we recognize and respect this diversity and build institutions based upon acceptance of diversity.  While we should influence each other positively, we should never impose our views or our wills on one another.  
 
The Malays describe the region as the lands below the winds (tanah di bawa angin).  The winds blow one way six months of the year and the other way the other six months.  The region is in between China and India not only geographically but also culturally.  The instinct in coastal Southeast Asia is therefore to be open and neutral, welcoming all who come peacefully to our shores.  Every time the China trade flowed strongly, it brought opportunity and prosperity to the kingdoms and principalities in the region.  The China trade which flowed in the 19th century, which was the one which created modern Singapore, was however different.  Trade was opened up by gunboats and had to conform to western rules.  During that period, Southeast Asia was carved up into colonial domains except for Thailand which astutely adjusted to whichever was the prevailing power.  
 
The new China trade of the 21st century will revert back to earlier China trades which allowed for greater diversity.  President Xi Jinping's One Belt, One Road, is based on a voluntary principle.  There is no requirement to change one's internal operating system in order to become part of it.  Like the Internet, one can participate in the network by accepting certain protocols, similar to TCP/IP.   This is now unfolding on an epic scale, transforming the face of Eurasia.   Powers which see China as a rival are reacting uneasily to this development.  The US and Japan are refusing to join AIIB.  India is not enthusiastic, worried that the Kashgar-Gwadar corridor will affect it adversely.  These countries fear that China will pull too many of the strings.
 
China will fail if it tries to dominate its neighbours by force or intimidation.  Deng Xiaoping once said that if China ever tries to be a new hegemon, other countries should unite with the Chinese people to defeat it.  What China is doing instead is to make use of its economic strength to win friends and influence people.  Those who are friendly to China are rewarded while those who are not so friendly find themselves economically disadvantaged.  However, the Chinese know that they cannot expect an exclusive position for themselves in Southeast Asia which was precisely the point made by Premier Zhu Rongji in Phnom Penh in 2002 when he signed the Framework Agreeement for the ASEAN-China FTA with ASEAN leaders.  No one in ASEAN wants China as an enemy.  The more China is a friend, the more the US, Japan, India and Europe will also be welcomed as friends because that gives us diversification.  The more, the merrier.
 
Territorial disputes in the South China Sea must however be well managed.  The US is understandably concerned.  However, trying to play off the US against China, or vice versa, is a dangerous game for ASEAN countries.  All of us in ASEAN are small powers in comparison to these two.  We end up being minor pieces on their global chessboard to be sacrificed when expedient.  The high tension earlier this year seems to have ameliorated as all four countries with competing claims and China are talking in a constructive way.  Because of long contact with Southeast over many centuries, China has a fine sense of ASEAN's diversity and calibrates its foreign policy to this reality.
 
ASEAN itself is slowly but steadily inculcating in its people a sense of ASEAN citizenry.  The ASEAN flag now flies alongside national flags of member states in all overseas missions.  Next year, ASEAN celebrates its 50th Anniversary. I hope we will be able to field an ASEAN soccer team for the World Cup one day, cheered on by all the people of ASEAN.
 
Singapore  
 
Singapore's identity is rooted in our geography and history.  At the southernmost tip of the Eurasia landmass, we are where ships turn as the winds change direction.  Singapore is a child of the maritime silk route.  In the coming decades, this China trade will flow with greater strength than ever before.  Behind China, there is a rising India.  As Prof Wang Gungwu put it beautifully, we are where the mandalas of China and India intersect. The growth of One Belt, One Road is therefore a historic opportunity for Singapore which, provided we seize it with both hands, will take us far.
 
Singapore's destiny is in Southeast Asia.  We are at the heart of ASEAN and the most ASEANized of all the ASEAN countries.  Every member country in ASEAN has a strong presence in Singapore.  The rich diversity of ASEAN has its reflection in the Singapore crystal.  We are densely connected economically and culturally with all the other nine countries.  It is for this reason that Singapore has always been a strong advocate of ASEAN unity and integration.  ASEAN's role as a neutral platform friendly to all major powers is irreplaceable.  Provided we do not take sides, all the major powers will wish us well and support our deeper unity and integration.  ASEAN must always be reluctant to ASEANize bilateral problems which individual ASEAN countries may have with major powers.  Unless there are overriding reasons for ASEAN as a whole to be involved in such bilateral disputes, it should refrain from doing so.  On the South China Sea, for example, ASEAN does have a strong interest in freedom of navigation but ASEAN should take no position on territorial disputes between the four claimant states and China. ASEAN should also studiously avoid taking sides in the unavoidable rivalry between the US and China.
 
There is a strong alignment between Singapore's foreign policy and ASEAN's foreign policy.  Despite having left the Government for some years, in my present capacity in the private sector, I am constantly reminded by ASEAN friends of the important role Singapore plays in fostering ASEAN unity.
 
Singapore's Chineseness is an inseparable part of our existence in Southeast Asia.  It was our Chineseness that impelled so many Singaporeans to support China's war against Japan, that led the Japanese militarists to kill many young men after the British were defeated, that made the British keep Singapore out of the Malayan Federation, that enabled Lee Kuan Yew to persuade the Tunku to take Singapore into Malaysia, and that caused Singapore to separate not long afterwards in 1965.  That same Chineseness continues to link us in a myriad ways to the unfolding drama of China's great transformation in the 21st century and to the situation of the ethnic Chinese in Southeast Asia.  Singapore's Chineseness is a huge advantage in this period of history but it also complicates our foreign policy.  One senior Chinese diplomat once noted to me that "there is considerable mutual affection between the people of China and the people of Singapore". The other side of this emotional coin is the occasional overreaction to disagreements between us.  I remember Indonesian Foreign Minister Pak Ali Alatas once expressing to me his deep concern about Singapore's deteriorating relations with China many years ago over an incident which I've long forgotten.  His concern came as a pleasant surprise to me.
 
Singapore's links with Malaysia and Indonesia, with India and with the Muslim world are similarly fraught with emotional complications.  The POA issue with Malaysia took over twenty years to resolve largely because the emotional trauma of separation for both sides took time to heal.  After 51 years, we are still very much one people separated in two countries. In a group, it is difficult to distinguish Singaporeans from Malaysians. Among Indonesian leaders, there is sometimes a sense that Chinese Singapore is somehow exploiting Indonesia, benefiting disproportionately from the relationship. At Pak Mochtar Riady's book launch in Singapore recently, which I was honoured to  speak at, an accompanying video displayed both the Indonesian and the PRC flags.  Being Chinese and being Indonesian are equally important identities to him. The ethnic Chinese connection with Singapore is woven into the fabric of economic life in Southeast Asia and complicates our relationship with Indonesia. Notwithstanding all this, Singapore and Indonesia remain the closest of partners.  With One Belt, One Road, our two countries will grow even closer together in the coming decades.
 
Singapore's links to India are also profound and will be a growing advantage not only to us, but to the entire region.  By 2050, India will either be the second or the third biggest economy in the world.  Some of my Indian friends consider Singapore to be virtually a part of India. Singapore is of course an Indian name, Sanskrit in origin.
 
Singapore's links to the Muslim world are inseparable from our other links to Southeast Asia, China and India. The recent picture of President Tony Tan meeting Singapore religious students in Egypt's Al Azhar University shows how intimately connected we are to the Middle East and the Muslim world.  Every coin has two sides.  While we celebrate the connections, we are also ineluctably affected by the turmoil in the Middle East including the challenge of Jihadi terrorism.  
 
 
What all this means is that the Singapore identity is complex and dynamic.  This complexity is part of our everyday life.  We will never stop worrying about it.  We will never stop arguing over policies affected by our multiple identities in education and housing, language and culture, national security and foreign policy. The latest debate is the Elected Presidency.
 
In having to grapple with these tensions, which are never fully resolved, we develop a Singapore culture, a higher Singapore identity, which is accommodating and inclusive, while being always sensitive to issues touching on race, language and religion.   Each and every Singaporean has multiple identities.  Being Singaporean means understanding and accepting this reality, even celebrating it.  The Singaporean has to be big-hearted and broadminded in order to embrace others not like himself.  This is the Singapore idea which is worth living and fighting for.  Indeed it is an idea the world desperately needs.  Singapore is only Singapore if it has this universal appeal.