I know I haven’t been updating this blog because I’m too lazy. Years 2 and 3 have been an exciting flurry of business (both work and busy-ness). I constantly spew bite-sized thoughts that stream into my mind on Instagram Stories anyway, and I am remarkably easily bored and excitable, so longer, more considered pieces on Blogger aren’t sustainable. I digress. Many exciting life updates! I’m now officially done with my undergraduate PPE programme at King’s College London. I loved every bit of it: the depth, rigour and intellectual intensity of the course, the international student community, the bustling city of London and all the travel opportunities around Europe. Words can’t do justice to the profundity of the experience. In typical Quincean fashion, I milked everything I could out of the three years: went to Cumberland Lodge (for free) as a photographer with the Philosophy Department in Years 1 and 3, clinched the Principal’s Global Leadership Award (PGLA) in my second year (spending
In the past four and a half months, I dealt with convictions. Convictions of others, convictions of my own.
I thought about criminal justice. About how persons in custody became unlikely friends in the lock-up, brought together by a peculiar mix of circumstance and necessity. How excited I was when I saw quadratic curves in sentencing benchmarks. The hotchpotch of emotions I felt when family members cried before we handed a convict over to the Prison Service. How it felt to be a symbol of legal authority, with the Balance of Dikē weighing on my shoulders.
Being an active controller or enforcer is not my natural disposition, though it is my current duty. I have always been the community relations kind of guy, and that’s also my working style. If I have subordinates, they run around freely like kampung chickens. Notwithstanding minimal caveats for subsistence, legitimacy and operational requirements within the bureaucracy, I can coherently articulate my reasons and motivations behind such a so-called “transformational” leadership style. More on that will take another article. This is one of my convictions.
I thought about the incredible uniqueness of the Police Force. It is organised like a military and has many military traditions and practices: ranks, drill, PT, parades, firearms, tactics. But at the same time, it is a civil force — in some ways a service — that attracts public scrutiny. It demands astute intellect and emotional sensitivity, in addition to operational regimentation. It instructs officers not to see the world in black and white, but assess every situation and act based on their judgement. Each encik is literate, articulate and conversant with the law. The culture is one of reason — not just rationality but reasonableness. In particular, I thought of how it works with the SCDF, SAF, AGC, Prisons, Courts, People’s Association, ICA, Customs, LTA and CAAS every day. It is a one-of-a-kind organisation.
I thought about my relationship with the uniform. How schoolmate after schoolmate told me they signed on. One said: “It’s something I wanted to do tbh.” Another said: “Well, I am a conservative person, and the SAF is a conservative place.” I re-examined my convictions. Just because I am good at something, enthusiastic about it, or have found meaning as of now, doesn’t mean I want to do it for a decade. National Service is an aberration — a colourful one — but an aberration nonetheless. The conclusion remained resoundingly clear in my mind, in verse no less:
I thought about how NS has changed me, and how I have changed NS. Every encounter is a two-way road. I very much fancy a Quinean web because I think it is an apt model of not just knowledge but also growth. Technically everything can change, but we hold some principles central while letting everything else loosely surround the core. The centre is resistant to change — by our own doing — while the periphery easily changes due to new experiences and lessons learnt. This captures the change needed for growth while not erasing the important things we will not concede.
These four and a half months have shown me what the real world is like, what lies beneath Singapore’s glossy facade. But it is precisely because reality is ugly that we must resist it and challenge it. We underestimate individual agency. Too many people are like drivers who complain about a traffic jam without realising that they are part of it. I certainly don't want to be one of them.
That is my biggest conviction. ∎
I thought about criminal justice. About how persons in custody became unlikely friends in the lock-up, brought together by a peculiar mix of circumstance and necessity. How excited I was when I saw quadratic curves in sentencing benchmarks. The hotchpotch of emotions I felt when family members cried before we handed a convict over to the Prison Service. How it felt to be a symbol of legal authority, with the Balance of Dikē weighing on my shoulders.
Being an active controller or enforcer is not my natural disposition, though it is my current duty. I have always been the community relations kind of guy, and that’s also my working style. If I have subordinates, they run around freely like kampung chickens. Notwithstanding minimal caveats for subsistence, legitimacy and operational requirements within the bureaucracy, I can coherently articulate my reasons and motivations behind such a so-called “transformational” leadership style. More on that will take another article. This is one of my convictions.
I thought about the incredible uniqueness of the Police Force. It is organised like a military and has many military traditions and practices: ranks, drill, PT, parades, firearms, tactics. But at the same time, it is a civil force — in some ways a service — that attracts public scrutiny. It demands astute intellect and emotional sensitivity, in addition to operational regimentation. It instructs officers not to see the world in black and white, but assess every situation and act based on their judgement. Each encik is literate, articulate and conversant with the law. The culture is one of reason — not just rationality but reasonableness. In particular, I thought of how it works with the SCDF, SAF, AGC, Prisons, Courts, People’s Association, ICA, Customs, LTA and CAAS every day. It is a one-of-a-kind organisation.
I thought about my relationship with the uniform. How schoolmate after schoolmate told me they signed on. One said: “It’s something I wanted to do tbh.” Another said: “Well, I am a conservative person, and the SAF is a conservative place.” I re-examined my convictions. Just because I am good at something, enthusiastic about it, or have found meaning as of now, doesn’t mean I want to do it for a decade. National Service is an aberration — a colourful one — but an aberration nonetheless. The conclusion remained resoundingly clear in my mind, in verse no less:
My feet, they dream of roaming worldly fields;
Too big to be tied up in eight-inch boots.
I thought about how NS has changed me, and how I have changed NS. Every encounter is a two-way road. I very much fancy a Quinean web because I think it is an apt model of not just knowledge but also growth. Technically everything can change, but we hold some principles central while letting everything else loosely surround the core. The centre is resistant to change — by our own doing — while the periphery easily changes due to new experiences and lessons learnt. This captures the change needed for growth while not erasing the important things we will not concede.
These four and a half months have shown me what the real world is like, what lies beneath Singapore’s glossy facade. But it is precisely because reality is ugly that we must resist it and challenge it. We underestimate individual agency. Too many people are like drivers who complain about a traffic jam without realising that they are part of it. I certainly don't want to be one of them.
That is my biggest conviction. ∎
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