Dec 19, 2007
Boy who wants to be a pilot scores high the Express way
He nets a record in Normal (Technical) stream using books meant for higher level
By Jane Ng
A HARD WORKER: Selwyn Sim, 16, studied from 10pm to 3am every night for eight months.
SELWYN Sim is in the Normal (Technical) stream but he worked on assessment books for those from the Express stream because he is a self-starter who aims high.
Yesterday, the efforts of the 16-year-old Pasir Ris Secondary student paid off.
His aggregate score of three points in the N-level exams was the best ever in the 10-year history of the N(T) stream, which is considered the weakest stream in the secondary school system.
He scored Grade 1 for all his subjects except Chinese, for which he scored a Grade 4.
No N(T) student has ever scored a Grade 1 for both English and Mathematics.
The aggregate is based on the grades for English, Mathematics and a best subject.
If Selwyn had achieved these results three years ago, he would have been the first N(T) student to have made it straight to Secondary 5 and the O levels.
But the system has since been changed and now N(T) students who do well enough can do a lateral transfer - first to Secondary 4 Normal (Academic) to sit for the N levels, before moving on to sit for the O levels in Secondary 5.
To do so, they have to achieve a mean grade of two or better for all N(T) subjects in the same sitting.
Selwyn's outstanding results were not due to luck.
The consistent worker studied from 10pm to 3am every night for eight months before the N-level exams, waking up at 5.30am to go to school.
He would look for books in the public library relating to science topics he did not understand.
To improve on Chinese, his weakest subject, he would learn from Primary 6 textbooks 'because there's hanyu pinyin' with the passages.
His form teacher, Mr Andrew Lim, and principal, Miss Cheng Hwee Yeang, were impressed.
Said Mr Lim: 'While other N(T) students would wait to be told what to do, he would seek out answers for himself.
'Two weeks before the exams, he wanted to organise a speed-reading class for his classmates, saying that might help them do better in the exams.'
Miss Cheng said she noticed Selwyn when he was in Secondary 3, when she gave his class a pep talk. He spoke to her afterwards, asking her advice on working towards sitting for the O levels.
Beyond his schoolwork, he was a student councillor and active in co-curricular activities, holding leadership positions as vice-chairman in taekwondo and the Red Cross Society.
Saturdays and Sundays were spent volunteering at his church, cleaning the hall before and after services.
Selwyn, who hopes to be a pilot, wants to pursue the aerospace course at the Institute of Technical Education.
He has yet to decide whether to take up the lateral transfer option which will let him take the O levels in two years' time.
Selwyn is the youngest child of a security supervisor and a secretary. His older brother, 22, is an IT support officer, and his older sister, 19, is an undergraduate.
Selwyn's beaming father, Mr Sim Chor Chye, 51, said: 'Many people think that N(T) students are weak in studies but when given a chance, they can do as well as, if not better than, those from other streams.
'Selwyn has led the way.'
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Half qualify for Higher Nitec courses
Half qualify for Higher Nitec courses
ONE in two Normal (Academic) students who took their N-level exams this year will be allowed to skip one year of school and head into higher-level technical courses.
Under new rules, some 6,502 out of 11,653 Secondary 4 N(A) students are eligible for direct entry into courses like engineering or applied and health sciences at the Institute of Technical Education (ITE), said the Ministry of Education.
Previously, they had to take the O levels in Secondary5 before they could enrol in a Higher National ITE Certificate (Nitec) course.
To qualify for direct entry, students have to score an aggregate of not more than 19 for English, Maths and three other subjects, with at least a Grade 4 in English and Maths.
Out of the 6,502 students, about half can opt for the more demanding business courses, which require students to score at least a Grade 3 in English.
Students can apply for the course of their choice on the ITE website (www.ite.edu.sg)
ONE in two Normal (Academic) students who took their N-level exams this year will be allowed to skip one year of school and head into higher-level technical courses.
Under new rules, some 6,502 out of 11,653 Secondary 4 N(A) students are eligible for direct entry into courses like engineering or applied and health sciences at the Institute of Technical Education (ITE), said the Ministry of Education.
Previously, they had to take the O levels in Secondary5 before they could enrol in a Higher National ITE Certificate (Nitec) course.
To qualify for direct entry, students have to score an aggregate of not more than 19 for English, Maths and three other subjects, with at least a Grade 4 in English and Maths.
Out of the 6,502 students, about half can opt for the more demanding business courses, which require students to score at least a Grade 3 in English.
Students can apply for the course of their choice on the ITE website (www.ite.edu.sg)
Golden trash
Dec 21, 2007
Vatican condemns The Golden Compass
'ANTI-CHRISTMAS': The Vatican says the movie promotes a cold and hopeless world without God. -- PHOTO: WARNER BROS
VATICAN CITY - The Vatican has criticised the American children's film, The Golden Compass, saying it is 'anti-Christmas' and promotes a cold and hopeless world without God.
In a long editorial on Wednesday, the Vatican newspaper l'Osservatore Romano also slammed Philip Pullman, the best-selling British author of the book on which the movie is based.
It was the Vatican's most stinging broadside against an author and a film since it roundly condemned The Da Vinci Code in 2005 and last year.
'In Pullman's world, hope simply does not exist, because there is no salvation but only personal, individualistic capacity to control the situation and dominate events,' the editorial said.
The film, which premiered earlier this month in the United States and stars Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig, is an adaptation of Pullman's acclaimed novel, Northern Lights.
The editorial said 'honest' viewers would find it 'devoid of any particular emotion apart from a great chill'.
In the fantasy world in Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, the Church and its governing body, the Magisterium, are linked to cruel experiments on children aimed at discovering the nature of sin and attempts to suppress facts that would undermine the Church's legitimacy and power.
In the film, all references to the Church have been stripped, with director Chris Weitz keen to avoid offending religious cinema goers.
Still, some Catholic groups in the US have called for a boycott, fearing even a diluted version of the book might draw people to read the best-selling trilogy.
The Vatican newspaper called the movie 'the most anti-Christmas film possible' and said that it was 'consoling' that its first weekend ticket sales in the US were a disappointing US$26 million (S$38 million).
The film, packed with special effects, cost US$150 million to make.
AFP, Reuters
Vatican condemns The Golden Compass
'ANTI-CHRISTMAS': The Vatican says the movie promotes a cold and hopeless world without God. -- PHOTO: WARNER BROS
VATICAN CITY - The Vatican has criticised the American children's film, The Golden Compass, saying it is 'anti-Christmas' and promotes a cold and hopeless world without God.
In a long editorial on Wednesday, the Vatican newspaper l'Osservatore Romano also slammed Philip Pullman, the best-selling British author of the book on which the movie is based.
It was the Vatican's most stinging broadside against an author and a film since it roundly condemned The Da Vinci Code in 2005 and last year.
'In Pullman's world, hope simply does not exist, because there is no salvation but only personal, individualistic capacity to control the situation and dominate events,' the editorial said.
The film, which premiered earlier this month in the United States and stars Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig, is an adaptation of Pullman's acclaimed novel, Northern Lights.
The editorial said 'honest' viewers would find it 'devoid of any particular emotion apart from a great chill'.
In the fantasy world in Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, the Church and its governing body, the Magisterium, are linked to cruel experiments on children aimed at discovering the nature of sin and attempts to suppress facts that would undermine the Church's legitimacy and power.
In the film, all references to the Church have been stripped, with director Chris Weitz keen to avoid offending religious cinema goers.
Still, some Catholic groups in the US have called for a boycott, fearing even a diluted version of the book might draw people to read the best-selling trilogy.
The Vatican newspaper called the movie 'the most anti-Christmas film possible' and said that it was 'consoling' that its first weekend ticket sales in the US were a disappointing US$26 million (S$38 million).
The film, packed with special effects, cost US$150 million to make.
AFP, Reuters
Teens' Wild Nights Out
Dec 16, 2007
Teens' Wild Nights Out
Parents are often unaware of the drinking, sex and even drug use at teens' parties
By Melody Zaccheus
WHILE SOME TEENS insist that their parties are just healthy fun, such gatherings can easily get out of hand and counsellors say parents need to get in tune with their children and be alert to telltale signs of problems. -- POSED PHOTO: NG SOR LUAN
IT'S a Friday and Tina is dressed to the hilt for a night out with her friends.
They had finished their O-level exams a few weeks ago and have been partying hard since then.
'Where are you going, dressed like that?' her mum asks in a concerned voice.
'Don't worry, mum, I am just going for a gathering at Sarah's place,' came the quick reply.
The mention of Sarah, a regular visitor at Tina's home and her classmate for the past four years, allays the parent's fears.
But Sarah's party at the clubhouse in her condo is no innocent gathering of a classroom of bookworms looking to have some nice clean fun.
Friends bring friends and boyfriends who come well stocked with booze and cigarettes to last the night.
These teens give their parents the slip quite easily. Mention that it's a party at a friend's place and there is seldom any problem, they say. Parents feel relatively safe and relax rules on staying out if they know the party is at a friend's place.
Student Amy, 15, has been attending three or four such parties a year since she was 14.
And she lies to her parents every time she attends one. When she went to the latest one last month at a friend's house, her parents thought she was at a school camp.
She was away from home for three days and two nights, preparing for the party and recovering from her hangover later. 'My parents will flip if they ever found out the truth,' she said.
Especially if they find out that on all of these occasions, she had drunk herself silly.
Amy said: 'I get drunk to experience a night of carefree fun. Even though I suffer from a hangover the next day, I find drinking a good way to release stress.'
Amy claims to know her boundaries. For instance, drugs are a no-go and the worst thing she has done is 'run off to make out with a stranger' when intoxicated.
Others, however, have seen far worse happening at such parties.
Fashion student John, 19, said: 'At a party I attended, a pair of teenagers who barely looked 18 were all over each other, having sex along the hallway. They were drunk, the girl's make-up was completely smudged and the guy was all over her.
'Their body parts were exposed and they were doing it in full view of 65 other people at the party.'
At such parties - usually held at condominium barbecue pits, chalets or private homes - complaints from neighbours and visits from the police are common.
These parties often begin at 7pm and sometimes stretch till 6am.
Food is usually catered or pizza ordered in, with music coming from an iPod plugged into a speaker set.
Junior College student, Stacey, 17, has witnessed fights at such parties. 'A few boys were kicking and punching each other. There was a lot of blood. I was terrified and fled.'
While some parents are clueless about their children's activities, some feel their children are old enough to take care of themselves and leave them very much on their own.
Polytechnic student David said he has been given a lot of freedom since completing secondary school.
The 17-year-old has no problems staying out late. All his parents would say to him is 'don't go overboard partying', he said.
But giving teens total freedom may not be the way to go, some counsellors say.
Youth Guidance Outreach Services programme director Gn Chiang Tat, 57, said: 'I don't think you can stop a teenager from being a teenager - it's a defiant phase. He'll definitely find a way to meet his friends no matter what kind of measures you take.'
But parents need to start getting in tune with their children, Mr Gn said. 'If the teen is looking for some way of release, and if he doesn't have a close relationship with his mum and dad, what's going to stop him from smoking, drinking, having sex and consuming drugs behind their backs?'
Counsellor Edward Rajeshwar from Tekka Community Services said parents should learn how to pick up telltale signs.
'The drinks he chugs down, the cigarettes he puffs and the party drugs he consumes will influence and negatively affect the teen's moods aside from the typical physical symptoms like bloodshot eyes, slurring and a weaker constitution,' he said. 'Parents must always be alert to these.'
Mr Rajeshwar added that parents of party organisers should also assume responsibility in ensuring that these gatherings do not get out of hand. Laying down the rules and boundaries clearly to the attending teenagers would be one way to have some form of control over the party, he said.
But what appears like living on the edge to parents is healthy fun, many teens who attend such parties insist.
Polytechnic student Bernard, 17, said: 'Sex and drugs do not always happen at these parties. But even if they did, we're mature enough to know how to handle ourselves.'
With a smirk, he added: 'What harm does a little tobacco and alcohol do?'
melodyzaccheus@gmail.com
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'If the teen is looking for some way of release, and if he doesn't have a close relationship with his mum and dad, what's going to stop him from smoking, drinking, having sex and consuming drugs behind their backs?'
MR GN CHIANG TAT, Youth Guidance Outreach Services programme director
Teens' Wild Nights Out
Parents are often unaware of the drinking, sex and even drug use at teens' parties
By Melody Zaccheus
WHILE SOME TEENS insist that their parties are just healthy fun, such gatherings can easily get out of hand and counsellors say parents need to get in tune with their children and be alert to telltale signs of problems. -- POSED PHOTO: NG SOR LUAN
IT'S a Friday and Tina is dressed to the hilt for a night out with her friends.
They had finished their O-level exams a few weeks ago and have been partying hard since then.
'Where are you going, dressed like that?' her mum asks in a concerned voice.
'Don't worry, mum, I am just going for a gathering at Sarah's place,' came the quick reply.
The mention of Sarah, a regular visitor at Tina's home and her classmate for the past four years, allays the parent's fears.
But Sarah's party at the clubhouse in her condo is no innocent gathering of a classroom of bookworms looking to have some nice clean fun.
Friends bring friends and boyfriends who come well stocked with booze and cigarettes to last the night.
These teens give their parents the slip quite easily. Mention that it's a party at a friend's place and there is seldom any problem, they say. Parents feel relatively safe and relax rules on staying out if they know the party is at a friend's place.
Student Amy, 15, has been attending three or four such parties a year since she was 14.
And she lies to her parents every time she attends one. When she went to the latest one last month at a friend's house, her parents thought she was at a school camp.
She was away from home for three days and two nights, preparing for the party and recovering from her hangover later. 'My parents will flip if they ever found out the truth,' she said.
Especially if they find out that on all of these occasions, she had drunk herself silly.
Amy said: 'I get drunk to experience a night of carefree fun. Even though I suffer from a hangover the next day, I find drinking a good way to release stress.'
Amy claims to know her boundaries. For instance, drugs are a no-go and the worst thing she has done is 'run off to make out with a stranger' when intoxicated.
Others, however, have seen far worse happening at such parties.
Fashion student John, 19, said: 'At a party I attended, a pair of teenagers who barely looked 18 were all over each other, having sex along the hallway. They were drunk, the girl's make-up was completely smudged and the guy was all over her.
'Their body parts were exposed and they were doing it in full view of 65 other people at the party.'
At such parties - usually held at condominium barbecue pits, chalets or private homes - complaints from neighbours and visits from the police are common.
These parties often begin at 7pm and sometimes stretch till 6am.
Food is usually catered or pizza ordered in, with music coming from an iPod plugged into a speaker set.
Junior College student, Stacey, 17, has witnessed fights at such parties. 'A few boys were kicking and punching each other. There was a lot of blood. I was terrified and fled.'
While some parents are clueless about their children's activities, some feel their children are old enough to take care of themselves and leave them very much on their own.
Polytechnic student David said he has been given a lot of freedom since completing secondary school.
The 17-year-old has no problems staying out late. All his parents would say to him is 'don't go overboard partying', he said.
But giving teens total freedom may not be the way to go, some counsellors say.
Youth Guidance Outreach Services programme director Gn Chiang Tat, 57, said: 'I don't think you can stop a teenager from being a teenager - it's a defiant phase. He'll definitely find a way to meet his friends no matter what kind of measures you take.'
But parents need to start getting in tune with their children, Mr Gn said. 'If the teen is looking for some way of release, and if he doesn't have a close relationship with his mum and dad, what's going to stop him from smoking, drinking, having sex and consuming drugs behind their backs?'
Counsellor Edward Rajeshwar from Tekka Community Services said parents should learn how to pick up telltale signs.
'The drinks he chugs down, the cigarettes he puffs and the party drugs he consumes will influence and negatively affect the teen's moods aside from the typical physical symptoms like bloodshot eyes, slurring and a weaker constitution,' he said. 'Parents must always be alert to these.'
Mr Rajeshwar added that parents of party organisers should also assume responsibility in ensuring that these gatherings do not get out of hand. Laying down the rules and boundaries clearly to the attending teenagers would be one way to have some form of control over the party, he said.
But what appears like living on the edge to parents is healthy fun, many teens who attend such parties insist.
Polytechnic student Bernard, 17, said: 'Sex and drugs do not always happen at these parties. But even if they did, we're mature enough to know how to handle ourselves.'
With a smirk, he added: 'What harm does a little tobacco and alcohol do?'
melodyzaccheus@gmail.com
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'If the teen is looking for some way of release, and if he doesn't have a close relationship with his mum and dad, what's going to stop him from smoking, drinking, having sex and consuming drugs behind their backs?'
MR GN CHIANG TAT, Youth Guidance Outreach Services programme director
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
New Asian Heroes - Peter Loh Paralysis
Rising to life's challenges
New Asian Heroes, an eight-part series on Asians who lead inspiring lives, kicks off with Peter Loh, who's determined to be financially independent despite being paralysed
By Wong Kim Hoh
HAPPY OUTLOOK: Peter Loh overcame his depression after being paralysed in an accident and now works from home for a bank with the help of his mother Monica Chong, who types his comments on the computer keyboard. -- ST PHOTOS: ALAN LIM
View more photos
LIFE has a very cruel sense of irony sometimes.
On Sept 11, 1994, Peter Loh, then 22, was supposed to meet an insurance agent. His mother, Madam Monica Chong, had arranged for the agent to recommend him some policies.
She had to cancel the appointment.
On that day, Loh dived into the swimming pool at the former Non-Commissioned Officers' (NCO) club in Beach Road and broke his neck.
The accident severely damaged his spinal cord. He is now confined to a motorised wheelchair, paralysed from the neck down.
It was a cruel blow to the athletic young man, who was then taking a break from his electrical engineering studies at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh in the United States to complete his national service.
The Hwa Chong Junior College alumnus, a keen canoeist and swimmer, remembers the day well.
He had arranged to meet a friend for dinner after giving a swimming lesson at the club.
'I had some time to kill so I decided to jump into the pool for a few laps,' says Loh, now a DBS bank executive.
He plunged in from the shallow end, something he says he had done numerous times before. But this time, he could taste blood.
'I probably broke my teeth,' he says during the interview in his family home, a four-room HDB flat in Tampines.
An alert swimming coach helped pull him out.
Although he was conscious throughout the ordeal, he says that he cannot remember more.
'It's not something I keep thinking of, as you can imagine,' the 35-year-old says with some difficulty, eyes brimming with tears.
Madam Chong, 63, adds: 'When we rushed to the hospital to see him, he just kept saying, 'Mum, I'm sorry.' '
The former secretary and her retired civil servant husband insisted on a complex operation even though doctors were not optimistic about their son's survival. They have a younger son, Joshua, 32, a manager in a property company.
Madam Chong says: 'I said that even if the success rate was just 1 per cent, I wanted him to have a shot.'
Loh stayed in hospital for the next 11/2 years. During this time, his parents would smuggle in acupuncturists and Chinese physicians, never turning down any option to save their son from life in a wheelchair.
It was a dark period for Loh, who was suicidal for the first few months.
He says: 'Every time I had an infection, I'd say, 'Let this be the one.' '
His mother nods, adding: 'He always said then, 'If I could use my hands, I would kill myself.' '
It was the love and support of his family, relatives and friends that pulled Loh, a Catholic, through.
Cousins, aunts and uncles often kept him company.
Strangers and 'friends of friends' who had heard about his mishap also turned up to pray for him.
Once he had come to terms with his condition, he says his practical and competitive instincts took over.
'I decided I wanted to be financially independent,' he says. 'Since I had some credits from Carnegie Mellon, I decided I would get a degree and find myself a job.'
He wrote to the National University of Singapore in 1996, hoping to study electrical engineering, like he had done in Carnegie Mellon.
The professor who visited and interviewed him at the hospital suggested computer science instead.
He took up the challenge.
'I could not just study for the sake of interest, I had to do something which would land me a job.'
He was a determined student. The family maid accompanied him to lectures three times a week, either in a Handicaps Welfare Association ambulance or a London cab. She helped him record lectures, which his mother or aunt would then transcribe.
'I had friends who volunteered to help me photocopy notes or borrow books for research,' he adds. 'I asked a lot of questions; one professor even gave me his phone number because he knew he wouldn't be able to answer all my questions during office hours.'
The tenacity paid off handsomely.
He bagged the Lee Kuan Yew Gold Medal, awarded to the best student in the Bachelor of Computer and Information Science degree programme for 1998/9.
'The degree was my insurance policy, the prize, my rider,' he jokes, using the insurance jargon for additional coverage.
After graduation, he wrote many job application letters.
'I 'signed' them with my thumbprint, since I could not use my hands. I was apprehensive that I would get many rejections,' says Loh who can manoeuvre the control of his motorised wheelchair with the help of a splint.
His fears were unfounded. Several employers came to his home to interview him. Soon after, he landed his first job - as a research assistant in an NUS computer laboratory.
He left soon after to become an applications engineer for SpeechWorks, a software company. It was a job he held for more than four years until the company was bought over and had its operations moved to Australia.
He worked briefly in another software company before DBS hired him about three years ago. He is part of the group strategic marketing and communications team, managing and editing content for the bank's Intranet network.
He works from home but goes to the bank's Shenton Way offices at least once a week to attend meetings.
He has access to a voice recognition software, but says he relies mostly on his mother.
He dictates, and she executes all his commands on the keyboard.
'He's a tough boss,' she jokes.
Asked if he shares his bonus with her, he says with a cackle: 'Of course.'
Indeed his mother is his biggest crutch and support.
She says: 'My husband sometimes worries and asks me, 'What will happen to him when we are gone?'
'I don't want to think of that scenario. We won't even know what will happen to us tomorrow so why worry? I know God will take care of him.'
Loh, who loves spicy food and enjoys watching Cantonese drama serials and listening to music, is equally pragmatic.
'In the worst case scenario, I will go to a nursing home. Hopefully, my income and savings will allow me to do that.'
He then says chirpily: 'You know what? I am more worried about delivering on my KPIs (key performance indicators).'
kimhoh@sph.com.sg
New Asian Heroes is brought to you by DBS.
New Asian Heroes, an eight-part series on Asians who lead inspiring lives, kicks off with Peter Loh, who's determined to be financially independent despite being paralysed
By Wong Kim Hoh
HAPPY OUTLOOK: Peter Loh overcame his depression after being paralysed in an accident and now works from home for a bank with the help of his mother Monica Chong, who types his comments on the computer keyboard. -- ST PHOTOS: ALAN LIM
View more photos
LIFE has a very cruel sense of irony sometimes.
On Sept 11, 1994, Peter Loh, then 22, was supposed to meet an insurance agent. His mother, Madam Monica Chong, had arranged for the agent to recommend him some policies.
She had to cancel the appointment.
On that day, Loh dived into the swimming pool at the former Non-Commissioned Officers' (NCO) club in Beach Road and broke his neck.
The accident severely damaged his spinal cord. He is now confined to a motorised wheelchair, paralysed from the neck down.
It was a cruel blow to the athletic young man, who was then taking a break from his electrical engineering studies at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh in the United States to complete his national service.
The Hwa Chong Junior College alumnus, a keen canoeist and swimmer, remembers the day well.
He had arranged to meet a friend for dinner after giving a swimming lesson at the club.
'I had some time to kill so I decided to jump into the pool for a few laps,' says Loh, now a DBS bank executive.
He plunged in from the shallow end, something he says he had done numerous times before. But this time, he could taste blood.
'I probably broke my teeth,' he says during the interview in his family home, a four-room HDB flat in Tampines.
An alert swimming coach helped pull him out.
Although he was conscious throughout the ordeal, he says that he cannot remember more.
'It's not something I keep thinking of, as you can imagine,' the 35-year-old says with some difficulty, eyes brimming with tears.
Madam Chong, 63, adds: 'When we rushed to the hospital to see him, he just kept saying, 'Mum, I'm sorry.' '
The former secretary and her retired civil servant husband insisted on a complex operation even though doctors were not optimistic about their son's survival. They have a younger son, Joshua, 32, a manager in a property company.
Madam Chong says: 'I said that even if the success rate was just 1 per cent, I wanted him to have a shot.'
Loh stayed in hospital for the next 11/2 years. During this time, his parents would smuggle in acupuncturists and Chinese physicians, never turning down any option to save their son from life in a wheelchair.
It was a dark period for Loh, who was suicidal for the first few months.
He says: 'Every time I had an infection, I'd say, 'Let this be the one.' '
His mother nods, adding: 'He always said then, 'If I could use my hands, I would kill myself.' '
It was the love and support of his family, relatives and friends that pulled Loh, a Catholic, through.
Cousins, aunts and uncles often kept him company.
Strangers and 'friends of friends' who had heard about his mishap also turned up to pray for him.
Once he had come to terms with his condition, he says his practical and competitive instincts took over.
'I decided I wanted to be financially independent,' he says. 'Since I had some credits from Carnegie Mellon, I decided I would get a degree and find myself a job.'
He wrote to the National University of Singapore in 1996, hoping to study electrical engineering, like he had done in Carnegie Mellon.
The professor who visited and interviewed him at the hospital suggested computer science instead.
He took up the challenge.
'I could not just study for the sake of interest, I had to do something which would land me a job.'
He was a determined student. The family maid accompanied him to lectures three times a week, either in a Handicaps Welfare Association ambulance or a London cab. She helped him record lectures, which his mother or aunt would then transcribe.
'I had friends who volunteered to help me photocopy notes or borrow books for research,' he adds. 'I asked a lot of questions; one professor even gave me his phone number because he knew he wouldn't be able to answer all my questions during office hours.'
The tenacity paid off handsomely.
He bagged the Lee Kuan Yew Gold Medal, awarded to the best student in the Bachelor of Computer and Information Science degree programme for 1998/9.
'The degree was my insurance policy, the prize, my rider,' he jokes, using the insurance jargon for additional coverage.
After graduation, he wrote many job application letters.
'I 'signed' them with my thumbprint, since I could not use my hands. I was apprehensive that I would get many rejections,' says Loh who can manoeuvre the control of his motorised wheelchair with the help of a splint.
His fears were unfounded. Several employers came to his home to interview him. Soon after, he landed his first job - as a research assistant in an NUS computer laboratory.
He left soon after to become an applications engineer for SpeechWorks, a software company. It was a job he held for more than four years until the company was bought over and had its operations moved to Australia.
He worked briefly in another software company before DBS hired him about three years ago. He is part of the group strategic marketing and communications team, managing and editing content for the bank's Intranet network.
He works from home but goes to the bank's Shenton Way offices at least once a week to attend meetings.
He has access to a voice recognition software, but says he relies mostly on his mother.
He dictates, and she executes all his commands on the keyboard.
'He's a tough boss,' she jokes.
Asked if he shares his bonus with her, he says with a cackle: 'Of course.'
Indeed his mother is his biggest crutch and support.
She says: 'My husband sometimes worries and asks me, 'What will happen to him when we are gone?'
'I don't want to think of that scenario. We won't even know what will happen to us tomorrow so why worry? I know God will take care of him.'
Loh, who loves spicy food and enjoys watching Cantonese drama serials and listening to music, is equally pragmatic.
'In the worst case scenario, I will go to a nursing home. Hopefully, my income and savings will allow me to do that.'
He then says chirpily: 'You know what? I am more worried about delivering on my KPIs (key performance indicators).'
kimhoh@sph.com.sg
New Asian Heroes is brought to you by DBS.
THE CELEBRATED NOBEL PRIZE
THE CELEBRATED NOBEL PRIZE
A hint of ignobility
By ROBERT MARC FRIEDMAN
Dec 10
THE dance around the golden Nobel medallion began over 100 years ago, and is still going strong. As icon, myth and ritual, the Nobel Prize is well secured. But what do we actually know about the Nobel Prize?
Shrouded in secrecy and legend, the Nobel Prize first became an object for serious study after 1976 when the Nobel Foundation opened its archives. Research by historians leaves little doubt: the Nobel medallion is etched with human frailties.
Although observers accept a degree of subjectivity in the literature and peace prizes, the science prizes have long been assumed to be an objective measure of excellence. But from the start, the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, which awards the physics and chemistry prizes, and the Caroline Institute, which awards those for medicine/physiology, have based their decisions on the recommendations of their respective committees. And the committee members' own understanding of science has been critical in determining outcomes.
From the beginning, the inner world of those entrusted to make recommendations was marked by personal and principled discord over how to interpret Alfred Nobel's cryptic will and to whom prizes should be awarded. While committee members tried to be dispassionate, their own judgment, predilections and interests necessarily entered into their work, and some championed their own agendas.
Winning a Nobel Prize has never been an automatic process, a reward that comes with having attained a magical level of achievement. Designated nominators rarely provided committees with a clear consensus, and the committees often ignored the rare mandates when a single strongly nominated candidate did appear, such as Albert Einstein for his work on relativity theory.
Academy physicists had no intention of recognising this theoretical achievement 'even if the whole world demands it'. The prize is a Swedish prerogative. (Einstein instead was awarded the physics prize in 1921 'for his services to theoretical physics, and especially for his discovery of the law of the photoelectric effect.')
A simple change in the committee's composition could decide a candidate's fate. Not until committee strongman C.W. Oseen died in 1944 could the theoretical physicist Wolfgang Pauli - one of the giants of quantum mechanics - receive a prize. Conversely, the Academy of Sciences sometimes rebelled against its committees. Harbouring a grudge, one chemist rallied the academy to block the committee's recommendation for the Russian Dmitry Mendeleyev, who created the periodic table.
Even when all involved tried to rise above pettiness and partiality, selecting winners was always difficult - and remains so. Committee members occasionally confessed privately that often several candidates could be found who equally deserved a prize. Unambiguous, impartial criteria for selecting a winner were not at hand - and never will be.
The image of science advancing through the efforts of individual genius is, of course, appealing. Yet, to a greater extent than the prizes allow, research progresses through the work of many.
Brilliant minds do matter, but it is often inappropriate and unjust to limit recognition to so few when so many extremely talented scientists may have contributed to a given breakthrough. The Nobel by-laws do not allow splitting a prize into more than three parts, thereby excluding discoveries that entailed work by more than three researchers, or omitting key persons who equally deserved to share in the honour.
It has also become clear that many important branches of science are not addressed by Alfred Nobel's testament (limited to physics, chemistry, physiology/ medicine). Some of the past century's greatest intellectual triumphs, such as those related to the expanding universe and continental drift, have not been celebrated. Environmental sciences - surely of fundamental importance - also come up empty. It is right to want heroes in science, but we should understand the criteria used to select those whom we are asked to revere.
Why do people venerate the Nobel Prize? There is no easy answer. The cult of the prize began even before the first winners were announced. Media fascination whipped up speculation and interest. The creed of the prize did not depend so much on the merit of the winners as much as the understanding that the prize was a powerful means to gain prestige and advantage.
Even scientists who frowned upon the Swedish committees' limitations and sometimes odd choices nevertheless still nominated and lobbied for candidates, knowing that a winner can draw attention and money to a research specialty, institution or national scientific community.
Is science or society well served by a fixation on prizes and on nurturing a culture of extreme competition? Perhaps once the mystery of the Nobel Prize is reduced, we might reflect on what is truly significant in science. The soul and heritage of science going back several centuries is far richer than the quest for prizes.
The writer, professor of the history of science at the University of Oslo, is the author of The Politics Of Excellence: Behind The Nobel Prize In Science.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
A hint of ignobility
By ROBERT MARC FRIEDMAN
Dec 10
THE dance around the golden Nobel medallion began over 100 years ago, and is still going strong. As icon, myth and ritual, the Nobel Prize is well secured. But what do we actually know about the Nobel Prize?
Shrouded in secrecy and legend, the Nobel Prize first became an object for serious study after 1976 when the Nobel Foundation opened its archives. Research by historians leaves little doubt: the Nobel medallion is etched with human frailties.
Although observers accept a degree of subjectivity in the literature and peace prizes, the science prizes have long been assumed to be an objective measure of excellence. But from the start, the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, which awards the physics and chemistry prizes, and the Caroline Institute, which awards those for medicine/physiology, have based their decisions on the recommendations of their respective committees. And the committee members' own understanding of science has been critical in determining outcomes.
From the beginning, the inner world of those entrusted to make recommendations was marked by personal and principled discord over how to interpret Alfred Nobel's cryptic will and to whom prizes should be awarded. While committee members tried to be dispassionate, their own judgment, predilections and interests necessarily entered into their work, and some championed their own agendas.
Winning a Nobel Prize has never been an automatic process, a reward that comes with having attained a magical level of achievement. Designated nominators rarely provided committees with a clear consensus, and the committees often ignored the rare mandates when a single strongly nominated candidate did appear, such as Albert Einstein for his work on relativity theory.
Academy physicists had no intention of recognising this theoretical achievement 'even if the whole world demands it'. The prize is a Swedish prerogative. (Einstein instead was awarded the physics prize in 1921 'for his services to theoretical physics, and especially for his discovery of the law of the photoelectric effect.')
A simple change in the committee's composition could decide a candidate's fate. Not until committee strongman C.W. Oseen died in 1944 could the theoretical physicist Wolfgang Pauli - one of the giants of quantum mechanics - receive a prize. Conversely, the Academy of Sciences sometimes rebelled against its committees. Harbouring a grudge, one chemist rallied the academy to block the committee's recommendation for the Russian Dmitry Mendeleyev, who created the periodic table.
Even when all involved tried to rise above pettiness and partiality, selecting winners was always difficult - and remains so. Committee members occasionally confessed privately that often several candidates could be found who equally deserved a prize. Unambiguous, impartial criteria for selecting a winner were not at hand - and never will be.
The image of science advancing through the efforts of individual genius is, of course, appealing. Yet, to a greater extent than the prizes allow, research progresses through the work of many.
Brilliant minds do matter, but it is often inappropriate and unjust to limit recognition to so few when so many extremely talented scientists may have contributed to a given breakthrough. The Nobel by-laws do not allow splitting a prize into more than three parts, thereby excluding discoveries that entailed work by more than three researchers, or omitting key persons who equally deserved to share in the honour.
It has also become clear that many important branches of science are not addressed by Alfred Nobel's testament (limited to physics, chemistry, physiology/ medicine). Some of the past century's greatest intellectual triumphs, such as those related to the expanding universe and continental drift, have not been celebrated. Environmental sciences - surely of fundamental importance - also come up empty. It is right to want heroes in science, but we should understand the criteria used to select those whom we are asked to revere.
Why do people venerate the Nobel Prize? There is no easy answer. The cult of the prize began even before the first winners were announced. Media fascination whipped up speculation and interest. The creed of the prize did not depend so much on the merit of the winners as much as the understanding that the prize was a powerful means to gain prestige and advantage.
Even scientists who frowned upon the Swedish committees' limitations and sometimes odd choices nevertheless still nominated and lobbied for candidates, knowing that a winner can draw attention and money to a research specialty, institution or national scientific community.
Is science or society well served by a fixation on prizes and on nurturing a culture of extreme competition? Perhaps once the mystery of the Nobel Prize is reduced, we might reflect on what is truly significant in science. The soul and heritage of science going back several centuries is far richer than the quest for prizes.
The writer, professor of the history of science at the University of Oslo, is the author of The Politics Of Excellence: Behind The Nobel Prize In Science.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
THE CELEBRATED NOBEL PRIZE
THE CELEBRATED NOBEL PRIZE
A hint of ignobility
By ROBERT MARC FRIEDMAN
Dec 10
THE dance around the golden Nobel medallion began over 100 years ago, and is still going strong. As icon, myth and ritual, the Nobel Prize is well secured. But what do we actually know about the Nobel Prize?
Shrouded in secrecy and legend, the Nobel Prize first became an object for serious study after 1976 when the Nobel Foundation opened its archives. Research by historians leaves little doubt: the Nobel medallion is etched with human frailties.
Although observers accept a degree of subjectivity in the literature and peace prizes, the science prizes have long been assumed to be an objective measure of excellence. But from the start, the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, which awards the physics and chemistry prizes, and the Caroline Institute, which awards those for medicine/physiology, have based their decisions on the recommendations of their respective committees. And the committee members' own understanding of science has been critical in determining outcomes.
From the beginning, the inner world of those entrusted to make recommendations was marked by personal and principled discord over how to interpret Alfred Nobel's cryptic will and to whom prizes should be awarded. While committee members tried to be dispassionate, their own judgment, predilections and interests necessarily entered into their work, and some championed their own agendas.
Winning a Nobel Prize has never been an automatic process, a reward that comes with having attained a magical level of achievement. Designated nominators rarely provided committees with a clear consensus, and the committees often ignored the rare mandates when a single strongly nominated candidate did appear, such as Albert Einstein for his work on relativity theory.
Academy physicists had no intention of recognising this theoretical achievement 'even if the whole world demands it'. The prize is a Swedish prerogative. (Einstein instead was awarded the physics prize in 1921 'for his services to theoretical physics, and especially for his discovery of the law of the photoelectric effect.')
A simple change in the committee's composition could decide a candidate's fate. Not until committee strongman C.W. Oseen died in 1944 could the theoretical physicist Wolfgang Pauli - one of the giants of quantum mechanics - receive a prize. Conversely, the Academy of Sciences sometimes rebelled against its committees. Harbouring a grudge, one chemist rallied the academy to block the committee's recommendation for the Russian Dmitry Mendeleyev, who created the periodic table.
Even when all involved tried to rise above pettiness and partiality, selecting winners was always difficult - and remains so. Committee members occasionally confessed privately that often several candidates could be found who equally deserved a prize. Unambiguous, impartial criteria for selecting a winner were not at hand - and never will be.
The image of science advancing through the efforts of individual genius is, of course, appealing. Yet, to a greater extent than the prizes allow, research progresses through the work of many.
Brilliant minds do matter, but it is often inappropriate and unjust to limit recognition to so few when so many extremely talented scientists may have contributed to a given breakthrough. The Nobel by-laws do not allow splitting a prize into more than three parts, thereby excluding discoveries that entailed work by more than three researchers, or omitting key persons who equally deserved to share in the honour.
It has also become clear that many important branches of science are not addressed by Alfred Nobel's testament (limited to physics, chemistry, physiology/ medicine). Some of the past century's greatest intellectual triumphs, such as those related to the expanding universe and continental drift, have not been celebrated. Environmental sciences - surely of fundamental importance - also come up empty. It is right to want heroes in science, but we should understand the criteria used to select those whom we are asked to revere.
Why do people venerate the Nobel Prize? There is no easy answer. The cult of the prize began even before the first winners were announced. Media fascination whipped up speculation and interest. The creed of the prize did not depend so much on the merit of the winners as much as the understanding that the prize was a powerful means to gain prestige and advantage.
Even scientists who frowned upon the Swedish committees' limitations and sometimes odd choices nevertheless still nominated and lobbied for candidates, knowing that a winner can draw attention and money to a research specialty, institution or national scientific community.
Is science or society well served by a fixation on prizes and on nurturing a culture of extreme competition? Perhaps once the mystery of the Nobel Prize is reduced, we might reflect on what is truly significant in science. The soul and heritage of science going back several centuries is far richer than the quest for prizes.
The writer, professor of the history of science at the University of Oslo, is the author of The Politics Of Excellence: Behind The Nobel Prize In Science.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
A hint of ignobility
By ROBERT MARC FRIEDMAN
Dec 10
THE dance around the golden Nobel medallion began over 100 years ago, and is still going strong. As icon, myth and ritual, the Nobel Prize is well secured. But what do we actually know about the Nobel Prize?
Shrouded in secrecy and legend, the Nobel Prize first became an object for serious study after 1976 when the Nobel Foundation opened its archives. Research by historians leaves little doubt: the Nobel medallion is etched with human frailties.
Although observers accept a degree of subjectivity in the literature and peace prizes, the science prizes have long been assumed to be an objective measure of excellence. But from the start, the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, which awards the physics and chemistry prizes, and the Caroline Institute, which awards those for medicine/physiology, have based their decisions on the recommendations of their respective committees. And the committee members' own understanding of science has been critical in determining outcomes.
From the beginning, the inner world of those entrusted to make recommendations was marked by personal and principled discord over how to interpret Alfred Nobel's cryptic will and to whom prizes should be awarded. While committee members tried to be dispassionate, their own judgment, predilections and interests necessarily entered into their work, and some championed their own agendas.
Winning a Nobel Prize has never been an automatic process, a reward that comes with having attained a magical level of achievement. Designated nominators rarely provided committees with a clear consensus, and the committees often ignored the rare mandates when a single strongly nominated candidate did appear, such as Albert Einstein for his work on relativity theory.
Academy physicists had no intention of recognising this theoretical achievement 'even if the whole world demands it'. The prize is a Swedish prerogative. (Einstein instead was awarded the physics prize in 1921 'for his services to theoretical physics, and especially for his discovery of the law of the photoelectric effect.')
A simple change in the committee's composition could decide a candidate's fate. Not until committee strongman C.W. Oseen died in 1944 could the theoretical physicist Wolfgang Pauli - one of the giants of quantum mechanics - receive a prize. Conversely, the Academy of Sciences sometimes rebelled against its committees. Harbouring a grudge, one chemist rallied the academy to block the committee's recommendation for the Russian Dmitry Mendeleyev, who created the periodic table.
Even when all involved tried to rise above pettiness and partiality, selecting winners was always difficult - and remains so. Committee members occasionally confessed privately that often several candidates could be found who equally deserved a prize. Unambiguous, impartial criteria for selecting a winner were not at hand - and never will be.
The image of science advancing through the efforts of individual genius is, of course, appealing. Yet, to a greater extent than the prizes allow, research progresses through the work of many.
Brilliant minds do matter, but it is often inappropriate and unjust to limit recognition to so few when so many extremely talented scientists may have contributed to a given breakthrough. The Nobel by-laws do not allow splitting a prize into more than three parts, thereby excluding discoveries that entailed work by more than three researchers, or omitting key persons who equally deserved to share in the honour.
It has also become clear that many important branches of science are not addressed by Alfred Nobel's testament (limited to physics, chemistry, physiology/ medicine). Some of the past century's greatest intellectual triumphs, such as those related to the expanding universe and continental drift, have not been celebrated. Environmental sciences - surely of fundamental importance - also come up empty. It is right to want heroes in science, but we should understand the criteria used to select those whom we are asked to revere.
Why do people venerate the Nobel Prize? There is no easy answer. The cult of the prize began even before the first winners were announced. Media fascination whipped up speculation and interest. The creed of the prize did not depend so much on the merit of the winners as much as the understanding that the prize was a powerful means to gain prestige and advantage.
Even scientists who frowned upon the Swedish committees' limitations and sometimes odd choices nevertheless still nominated and lobbied for candidates, knowing that a winner can draw attention and money to a research specialty, institution or national scientific community.
Is science or society well served by a fixation on prizes and on nurturing a culture of extreme competition? Perhaps once the mystery of the Nobel Prize is reduced, we might reflect on what is truly significant in science. The soul and heritage of science going back several centuries is far richer than the quest for prizes.
The writer, professor of the history of science at the University of Oslo, is the author of The Politics Of Excellence: Behind The Nobel Prize In Science.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
DYSLEXIA AND ENTREPRENEURIAL SUCCESS
Dec 10, 2007
DYSLEXIA AND ENTREPRENEURIAL SUCCESS
Capitalising on a little disadvantage
By Brent Bowers
IT HAS long been known that dyslexics are drawn to running their own businesses, where they can get around their weaknesses in reading and writing and play on their strengths. But a new study of entrepreneurs in the US suggests that dyslexia is much more common among small- business owners than even the experts had thought.
The report, compiled by Ms Julie Logan, a professor of entrepreneurship at the Cass Business School in London, found that more than a third of the entrepreneurs she had surveyed - 35 per cent - identified themselves as dyslexic.
The study also found dyslexics to be more likely than non-dyslexics to delegate authority and excel in oral communication and problem solving, and were twice as likely to own two or more businesses.
'We found that dyslexics who succeed had overcome an awful lot in their lives by developing compensatory skills,' Professor Logan said.
'If you tell your friends and acquaintances that you plan to start a business, you'll hear over and over, 'It won't work. It can't be done'. But dyslexics are extraordinarily creative about manoeuvring their way around problems.'
The study was based on a survey of 139 business owners in a wide range of fields across the United States. Prof Logan called the number who said they were dyslexic 'staggering', and said it was significantly higher than the 20 per cent of British entrepreneurs who said they were dyslexic in a poll she did in 2001.
She attributed the greater share in the US to earlier and more effective intervention by American schools to help dyslexic students deal with their learning problems. About 10 per cent of Americans are believed to have dyslexia, experts say.
One reason that dyslexics are drawn to entrepreneurship, Prof Logan said, is that strategies they have used since childhood to offset their weaknesses in written communication and organisational ability - identifying trustworthy people and handing over major responsibilities to them - can be applied to businesses.
'The willingness to delegate authority gives them a significant advantage over non-dyslexic entrepreneurs, who tend to view their business as their baby and like to be in total control,' she said.
Mr William Dennis, senior research fellow at the Research Foundation of the National Federation of Independent Business, a trade group in Washington, said the study's results 'fit into the pattern of what we know about small- business owners'.
'Entrepreneurs are hands- on people who push a minimum of paper, do lots of stuff orally instead of reading and writing, and delegate authority, all of which suggests a high verbal facility,' he said.
'Compare that with corporate managers who read, read, read.'
Indeed, according to Prof Logan, only 1 per cent of corporate managers in the US have dyslexia.
Much has been written about the link between dyslexia and entrepreneurial success. Fortune Magazine, for example, ran a cover story five years ago about dyslexic business leaders, including Mr Richard Branson, founder of Virgin Atlantic Airways; Mr Charles R. Schwab, founder of the discount brokerage firm that bears his name; Mr John T. Chambers, chief executive of Cisco; and Mr Paul Orfalea, founder of the Kinko's copy chain.
But Prof Logan said hers was the first study she knew of that tried to measure the percentage of entrepreneurs with dyslexia. Mr Carl Schramm, president of the Kauffman Foundation, which financed the research, agreed. But he said that although the study's findings were surprising, there was no previous baseline to measure it against.
Mr Emerson Dickman, president of the International Dyslexia Association and a lawyer, said the study's findings 'just make sense'.
'Individuals who have difficulty reading and writing tend to deploy other strengths,' said Mr Dickman, who has dyslexia.
'They rely on mentors and so become very good at reading other people and delegating duties to them. They become adept at using visual strengths to solve problems.'
Mr Orfalea, 60, who left Kinko's - now FedEx Kinko's - seven years ago, now dabbles in a hodge-podge of business undertakings. He is almost proud of having dyslexia and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADD).
'I get bored easily, and that is a great motivator. I think everybody should have dyslexia and ADD,' he said.
He attributes his business success to his difficulty with reading and writing because it forced him to master verbal communication. 'I didn't have a lot of self-confidence as a kid,' he said.
'And that is for the good. If you have a healthy dose of rejection in your life, you are going to have to figure out how to do it your way.'
He said his biggest advantage was his realisation that because of his many inadequacies, he had to delegate important tasks. 'My motto is: Anybody else can do anything better than me.'
Mr Danny Kessler, 26, also has dyslexia and ADD. He founded Angels with Attitude, which holds seminars for women on self-defence. He is a co-founder of Club E Network, which sponsors 'networking events', runs an online chat room for entrepreneurs and produces television shows about them.
Like Mr Orfalea, he said he had low self-esteem as a child, and now views that as a catapult into the entrepreneurial world. 'I told myself I would never be a lawyer or a doctor. But I wanted to make a lot of money. And I knew business was the only way I was going to do it,' he said.
In high school, Mr Kessler said, 'I became cool with the teachers. I developed a rapport with them. I was able to convince almost all of them to nudge my grade up just a bit. I adopted a strategy for squeezing through the system'.
As for the importance of entrusting tasks to others, Mr Kessler said his limitations endowed him with a 'razor sharp' intuition that allows him to ascertain within minutes of meeting people whether he can depend on them and what they would be good at in an organisation.
Mr Drew Devitt, 45, who also has dyslexia, said he started Thoughtware Products in college to produce videos for real estate brokers. Today, he runs a successful US$9 million (S$13 million) company called New Way Air Bearings that makes bearings for precision machine tools.
He also indirectly confirmed giving free rein to his deputies. Asked about the claim on his company's website that it is a 'market leader', he sighed.
'Actually, it's baloney. But that's what our marketing people came up with. You can't do everything. You have to let people do their job.'
NEW YORK TIMES
DYSLEXIA AND ENTREPRENEURIAL SUCCESS
Capitalising on a little disadvantage
By Brent Bowers
IT HAS long been known that dyslexics are drawn to running their own businesses, where they can get around their weaknesses in reading and writing and play on their strengths. But a new study of entrepreneurs in the US suggests that dyslexia is much more common among small- business owners than even the experts had thought.
The report, compiled by Ms Julie Logan, a professor of entrepreneurship at the Cass Business School in London, found that more than a third of the entrepreneurs she had surveyed - 35 per cent - identified themselves as dyslexic.
The study also found dyslexics to be more likely than non-dyslexics to delegate authority and excel in oral communication and problem solving, and were twice as likely to own two or more businesses.
'We found that dyslexics who succeed had overcome an awful lot in their lives by developing compensatory skills,' Professor Logan said.
'If you tell your friends and acquaintances that you plan to start a business, you'll hear over and over, 'It won't work. It can't be done'. But dyslexics are extraordinarily creative about manoeuvring their way around problems.'
The study was based on a survey of 139 business owners in a wide range of fields across the United States. Prof Logan called the number who said they were dyslexic 'staggering', and said it was significantly higher than the 20 per cent of British entrepreneurs who said they were dyslexic in a poll she did in 2001.
She attributed the greater share in the US to earlier and more effective intervention by American schools to help dyslexic students deal with their learning problems. About 10 per cent of Americans are believed to have dyslexia, experts say.
One reason that dyslexics are drawn to entrepreneurship, Prof Logan said, is that strategies they have used since childhood to offset their weaknesses in written communication and organisational ability - identifying trustworthy people and handing over major responsibilities to them - can be applied to businesses.
'The willingness to delegate authority gives them a significant advantage over non-dyslexic entrepreneurs, who tend to view their business as their baby and like to be in total control,' she said.
Mr William Dennis, senior research fellow at the Research Foundation of the National Federation of Independent Business, a trade group in Washington, said the study's results 'fit into the pattern of what we know about small- business owners'.
'Entrepreneurs are hands- on people who push a minimum of paper, do lots of stuff orally instead of reading and writing, and delegate authority, all of which suggests a high verbal facility,' he said.
'Compare that with corporate managers who read, read, read.'
Indeed, according to Prof Logan, only 1 per cent of corporate managers in the US have dyslexia.
Much has been written about the link between dyslexia and entrepreneurial success. Fortune Magazine, for example, ran a cover story five years ago about dyslexic business leaders, including Mr Richard Branson, founder of Virgin Atlantic Airways; Mr Charles R. Schwab, founder of the discount brokerage firm that bears his name; Mr John T. Chambers, chief executive of Cisco; and Mr Paul Orfalea, founder of the Kinko's copy chain.
But Prof Logan said hers was the first study she knew of that tried to measure the percentage of entrepreneurs with dyslexia. Mr Carl Schramm, president of the Kauffman Foundation, which financed the research, agreed. But he said that although the study's findings were surprising, there was no previous baseline to measure it against.
Mr Emerson Dickman, president of the International Dyslexia Association and a lawyer, said the study's findings 'just make sense'.
'Individuals who have difficulty reading and writing tend to deploy other strengths,' said Mr Dickman, who has dyslexia.
'They rely on mentors and so become very good at reading other people and delegating duties to them. They become adept at using visual strengths to solve problems.'
Mr Orfalea, 60, who left Kinko's - now FedEx Kinko's - seven years ago, now dabbles in a hodge-podge of business undertakings. He is almost proud of having dyslexia and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADD).
'I get bored easily, and that is a great motivator. I think everybody should have dyslexia and ADD,' he said.
He attributes his business success to his difficulty with reading and writing because it forced him to master verbal communication. 'I didn't have a lot of self-confidence as a kid,' he said.
'And that is for the good. If you have a healthy dose of rejection in your life, you are going to have to figure out how to do it your way.'
He said his biggest advantage was his realisation that because of his many inadequacies, he had to delegate important tasks. 'My motto is: Anybody else can do anything better than me.'
Mr Danny Kessler, 26, also has dyslexia and ADD. He founded Angels with Attitude, which holds seminars for women on self-defence. He is a co-founder of Club E Network, which sponsors 'networking events', runs an online chat room for entrepreneurs and produces television shows about them.
Like Mr Orfalea, he said he had low self-esteem as a child, and now views that as a catapult into the entrepreneurial world. 'I told myself I would never be a lawyer or a doctor. But I wanted to make a lot of money. And I knew business was the only way I was going to do it,' he said.
In high school, Mr Kessler said, 'I became cool with the teachers. I developed a rapport with them. I was able to convince almost all of them to nudge my grade up just a bit. I adopted a strategy for squeezing through the system'.
As for the importance of entrusting tasks to others, Mr Kessler said his limitations endowed him with a 'razor sharp' intuition that allows him to ascertain within minutes of meeting people whether he can depend on them and what they would be good at in an organisation.
Mr Drew Devitt, 45, who also has dyslexia, said he started Thoughtware Products in college to produce videos for real estate brokers. Today, he runs a successful US$9 million (S$13 million) company called New Way Air Bearings that makes bearings for precision machine tools.
He also indirectly confirmed giving free rein to his deputies. Asked about the claim on his company's website that it is a 'market leader', he sighed.
'Actually, it's baloney. But that's what our marketing people came up with. You can't do everything. You have to let people do their job.'
NEW YORK TIMES
Friday, December 7, 2007
Most S'pore kids are happy: Study
Nov 30, 2007
Most S'pore kids are happy: Study
Research shows the majority like their parents and have enough friends
By Theresa Tan
WORKING mums can breathe easy - a new study has found that hours at the office will not affect the emotional well-being of their children.
Despite parental fears, most children think their mums - working or not - often spend time with them, according to a study released yesterday by the Singapore Children's Society.
'Perhaps children don't expect their mums to spend all their time with them,' said senior researcher Mrs Shum-Cheung Hoi Shan.
'It's the quality of the time spent that matters.'
The study on the well-being of primary schoolchildren here painted a rosy picture. Researches interviewed about 1,800 parents and children and found:
83 per cent of children feel happy often or very often.
Over 95 per cent of children like their parents and have good relationships with them.
98 per cent of children have enough friends.
'It's very reassuring to know that the majority of our kids are happy,' said Mr Alex Lee, who sits on the society's board.
The study comes at a time when families are under greater strain than ever.
Divorce rates and the number of single-parent families are climbing. Plus more women are going out to work.
Working mothers said they wished they had more time for their children and try to devote their down time to their kids.
Accounts assistant Mrs Jeslin Heng, 39, says she is sometimes too tired to help her eldest daughter, who is nine, with her homework.
The mother of two has considered quitting her job to spend more time with her daughters, but cannot afford to leave work.
However, children interviewed by The Straits Times said their mums spent enough time with them, regardless of their employment status.
Ynez Tan, 11, is happy to have 'private' time when her salesgirl mum is at work.
She said: 'I can chat with my friends for a long time or watch TV when my mother is working.
'I prefer my mum to work.'
What is interesting, Mr Lee said, is that Malays and Indian children said they spend more time with their parents than Chinese children.
One reason could be Malay and Indian communities are more close-knit, said Mrs Shum-Cheung.
While the majority of children are happy, 10 per cent said they feel very sad often or very often.
Researchers did not ask the children why they were sad, or for that matter, happy.
They only asked the children, aged between six and 12, to rate their feelings.
However, going by calls to Tinkle Friend - the society's helpline for primary school pupils - children are often troubled by fighting parents, stress from school work, quarrels with friends and bullying.
Said Mr Lee: 'The percentage of unhappy children may be small, but it is something to look into.'
The study also found a child's emotional well-being is not affected by the number of siblings he has.
Those who are the only child tend to share their secrets and feelings with their grandparents more frequently than children with brothers or sisters.
theresat@sph.com.sg
Most S'pore kids are happy: Study
Research shows the majority like their parents and have enough friends
By Theresa Tan
WORKING mums can breathe easy - a new study has found that hours at the office will not affect the emotional well-being of their children.
Despite parental fears, most children think their mums - working or not - often spend time with them, according to a study released yesterday by the Singapore Children's Society.
'Perhaps children don't expect their mums to spend all their time with them,' said senior researcher Mrs Shum-Cheung Hoi Shan.
'It's the quality of the time spent that matters.'
The study on the well-being of primary schoolchildren here painted a rosy picture. Researches interviewed about 1,800 parents and children and found:
83 per cent of children feel happy often or very often.
Over 95 per cent of children like their parents and have good relationships with them.
98 per cent of children have enough friends.
'It's very reassuring to know that the majority of our kids are happy,' said Mr Alex Lee, who sits on the society's board.
The study comes at a time when families are under greater strain than ever.
Divorce rates and the number of single-parent families are climbing. Plus more women are going out to work.
Working mothers said they wished they had more time for their children and try to devote their down time to their kids.
Accounts assistant Mrs Jeslin Heng, 39, says she is sometimes too tired to help her eldest daughter, who is nine, with her homework.
The mother of two has considered quitting her job to spend more time with her daughters, but cannot afford to leave work.
However, children interviewed by The Straits Times said their mums spent enough time with them, regardless of their employment status.
Ynez Tan, 11, is happy to have 'private' time when her salesgirl mum is at work.
She said: 'I can chat with my friends for a long time or watch TV when my mother is working.
'I prefer my mum to work.'
What is interesting, Mr Lee said, is that Malays and Indian children said they spend more time with their parents than Chinese children.
One reason could be Malay and Indian communities are more close-knit, said Mrs Shum-Cheung.
While the majority of children are happy, 10 per cent said they feel very sad often or very often.
Researchers did not ask the children why they were sad, or for that matter, happy.
They only asked the children, aged between six and 12, to rate their feelings.
However, going by calls to Tinkle Friend - the society's helpline for primary school pupils - children are often troubled by fighting parents, stress from school work, quarrels with friends and bullying.
Said Mr Lee: 'The percentage of unhappy children may be small, but it is something to look into.'
The study also found a child's emotional well-being is not affected by the number of siblings he has.
Those who are the only child tend to share their secrets and feelings with their grandparents more frequently than children with brothers or sisters.
theresat@sph.com.sg
Thursday, November 29, 2007
People are equal in dialogue - Inter-religious dialogue
Catholic News. 25 Nov 2007
When Catholics engage in interreligious dialogue
When Catholics engage in interreligious dialogue
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Believing in Science as an article of faith - irrational!
Taking science on faith
By Paul Davies
SCIENCE, we are repeatedly told, is the most reliable form of knowledge about the world because it is based on testable hypotheses. Religion, however, is based on faith. The term 'doubting Thomas' well illustrates the difference.
In science, a healthy scepticism is a professional necessity, whereas in religion, having belief without evidence is seen as a virtue.
The problem with this neat separation into 'non-overlapping magisteria', as American palaeontologist and evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould described science and religion, is that science has its own faith-based belief system. All science proceeds on the assumption that nature is ordered in a rational and intelligible way.
You couldn't be a scientist if you thought the universe was a meaningless jumble of odds and ends haphazardly juxtaposed. When physicists probe to a deeper level of sub-atomic structure, or astronomers extend the reach of their instruments, they expect to encounter additional elegant mathematical order. And so far this faith has been justified.
The most refined expression of the rational intelligibility of the cosmos is found in the laws of physics, the fundamental rules on which nature runs. The laws of gravitation and electromagnetism, the laws that regulate the world within the atom, the laws of motion - all are expressed as tidy mathematical relationships. But where do these laws come from? And why do they have the form that they do?
When I was a student, the laws of physics were regarded as completely off limits. The job of the scientist, we were told, is to discover the laws and apply them, not enquire into their provenance.
The laws were treated as 'given' - imprinted on the universe like a maker's mark at the moment of cosmic birth - and fixed forever. So, to be a scientist, you had to have faith that the universe is governed by dependable, immutable, absolute, universal, mathematical laws of an unspecified origin. You must believe these laws won't fail, that we won't wake up tomorrow to find heat flowing from cold to hot, or the speed of light changing by the hour.
Over the years I have often asked my physicist colleagues why the laws of physics are what they are. The answers vary from 'that's not a scientific question' to 'nobody knows'. My favourite reply is: 'There is no reason they are what they are - they just are.'
The idea that the laws exist without reason is deeply anti-rational. After all, the very essence of a scientific explanation of some phenomenon is that the world is ordered logically and that there are reasons things are as they are. If one traces these reasons all the way down to the bedrock of reality - the laws of physics - only to find that reason then deserts us, it makes a mockery of science.
Can the mighty edifice of physical order we perceive in the world about us ultimately be rooted in reasonless absurdity? If so, then nature is a fiendishly clever bit of trickery: meaninglessness and absurdity somehow masquerading as ingenious order and rationality.
Although scientists have long had an inclination to shrug aside such questions concerning the source of the laws of physics, the mood has now shifted considerably. Part of the reason is the growing acceptance that the emergence of life in the universe, and hence the existence of observers like ourselves, depends rather sensitively on the form of the laws. If the laws of physics were just any old ragbag of rules, life would almost certainly not exist.
A second reason that the laws of physics have now been brought within the scope of scientific research is the realisation that what we have long regarded as absolute and universal laws might not be truly fundamental at all, but more like local bylaws. They could vary from place to place on a mega-cosmic scale.
A God's-eye view might reveal a vast patchwork quilt of universes, each with its own distinctive set of bylaws. In this 'multiverse', there is life only in those patches with bio-friendly bylaws, so it is no surprise that we find ourselves in a Goldilocks universe - one just right for life. We have selected it by our very existence.
The multiverse theory is increasingly popular, but it doesn't so much explain the laws of physics as dodge the whole issue. There has to be a physical mechanism to make all those universes and bestow bylaws on them. This process will require its own laws, or meta-laws. Where do they come from? The problem has simply been shifted up a level from the laws of the universe to the meta-laws of the multiverse.
Clearly, then, both religion and science are founded on faith - namely, on belief in the existence of something outside the universe, like an unexplained God or an unexplained set of physical laws, maybe even a huge ensemble of unseen universes, too. For that reason, both monotheistic religion and orthodox science fail to provide a complete account of physical existence.
This shared failing is no surprise, because the very notion of physical law is a theological one in the first place, a fact that makes many scientists squirm.
Isaac Newton first had the idea of absolute, universal, perfect, immutable laws from the Christian doctrine that God created the world and ordered it in a rational way. Christians see God as upholding the natural order from beyond the universe, while physicists think of their laws as inhabiting an abstract transcendent realm of perfect mathematical relationships.
And just as Christians claim that the world depends utterly on God for its existence, while the converse is not the case, so physicists declare a similar asymmetry: The universe is governed by eternal laws (or meta-laws), but the laws are completely impervious to what happens in the universe.
It seems to me there is no hope of ever explaining why the physical universe is as it is so long as we are fixated on immutable meta- laws that exist without reason or are imposed by divine providence. The alternative is to regard the laws of physics and the universe they govern as part and parcel of a unitary system, and to be incorporated together within a common explanatory scheme.
In other words, the laws should have an explanation from within the universe and not involve appealing to an external agency. The specifics of that explanation are a matter for future research. But until science comes up with a testable theory of the laws of the universe, its claim to be free of faith is manifestly bogus.
The writer is the director of Beyond, a research centre at Arizona State University, and the author of Cosmic Jackpot: Why Our Universe Is Just Right For Life.
Copyright: New York Times Syndicate
By Paul Davies
SCIENCE, we are repeatedly told, is the most reliable form of knowledge about the world because it is based on testable hypotheses. Religion, however, is based on faith. The term 'doubting Thomas' well illustrates the difference.
In science, a healthy scepticism is a professional necessity, whereas in religion, having belief without evidence is seen as a virtue.
The problem with this neat separation into 'non-overlapping magisteria', as American palaeontologist and evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould described science and religion, is that science has its own faith-based belief system. All science proceeds on the assumption that nature is ordered in a rational and intelligible way.
You couldn't be a scientist if you thought the universe was a meaningless jumble of odds and ends haphazardly juxtaposed. When physicists probe to a deeper level of sub-atomic structure, or astronomers extend the reach of their instruments, they expect to encounter additional elegant mathematical order. And so far this faith has been justified.
The most refined expression of the rational intelligibility of the cosmos is found in the laws of physics, the fundamental rules on which nature runs. The laws of gravitation and electromagnetism, the laws that regulate the world within the atom, the laws of motion - all are expressed as tidy mathematical relationships. But where do these laws come from? And why do they have the form that they do?
When I was a student, the laws of physics were regarded as completely off limits. The job of the scientist, we were told, is to discover the laws and apply them, not enquire into their provenance.
The laws were treated as 'given' - imprinted on the universe like a maker's mark at the moment of cosmic birth - and fixed forever. So, to be a scientist, you had to have faith that the universe is governed by dependable, immutable, absolute, universal, mathematical laws of an unspecified origin. You must believe these laws won't fail, that we won't wake up tomorrow to find heat flowing from cold to hot, or the speed of light changing by the hour.
Over the years I have often asked my physicist colleagues why the laws of physics are what they are. The answers vary from 'that's not a scientific question' to 'nobody knows'. My favourite reply is: 'There is no reason they are what they are - they just are.'
The idea that the laws exist without reason is deeply anti-rational. After all, the very essence of a scientific explanation of some phenomenon is that the world is ordered logically and that there are reasons things are as they are. If one traces these reasons all the way down to the bedrock of reality - the laws of physics - only to find that reason then deserts us, it makes a mockery of science.
Can the mighty edifice of physical order we perceive in the world about us ultimately be rooted in reasonless absurdity? If so, then nature is a fiendishly clever bit of trickery: meaninglessness and absurdity somehow masquerading as ingenious order and rationality.
Although scientists have long had an inclination to shrug aside such questions concerning the source of the laws of physics, the mood has now shifted considerably. Part of the reason is the growing acceptance that the emergence of life in the universe, and hence the existence of observers like ourselves, depends rather sensitively on the form of the laws. If the laws of physics were just any old ragbag of rules, life would almost certainly not exist.
A second reason that the laws of physics have now been brought within the scope of scientific research is the realisation that what we have long regarded as absolute and universal laws might not be truly fundamental at all, but more like local bylaws. They could vary from place to place on a mega-cosmic scale.
A God's-eye view might reveal a vast patchwork quilt of universes, each with its own distinctive set of bylaws. In this 'multiverse', there is life only in those patches with bio-friendly bylaws, so it is no surprise that we find ourselves in a Goldilocks universe - one just right for life. We have selected it by our very existence.
The multiverse theory is increasingly popular, but it doesn't so much explain the laws of physics as dodge the whole issue. There has to be a physical mechanism to make all those universes and bestow bylaws on them. This process will require its own laws, or meta-laws. Where do they come from? The problem has simply been shifted up a level from the laws of the universe to the meta-laws of the multiverse.
Clearly, then, both religion and science are founded on faith - namely, on belief in the existence of something outside the universe, like an unexplained God or an unexplained set of physical laws, maybe even a huge ensemble of unseen universes, too. For that reason, both monotheistic religion and orthodox science fail to provide a complete account of physical existence.
This shared failing is no surprise, because the very notion of physical law is a theological one in the first place, a fact that makes many scientists squirm.
Isaac Newton first had the idea of absolute, universal, perfect, immutable laws from the Christian doctrine that God created the world and ordered it in a rational way. Christians see God as upholding the natural order from beyond the universe, while physicists think of their laws as inhabiting an abstract transcendent realm of perfect mathematical relationships.
And just as Christians claim that the world depends utterly on God for its existence, while the converse is not the case, so physicists declare a similar asymmetry: The universe is governed by eternal laws (or meta-laws), but the laws are completely impervious to what happens in the universe.
It seems to me there is no hope of ever explaining why the physical universe is as it is so long as we are fixated on immutable meta- laws that exist without reason or are imposed by divine providence. The alternative is to regard the laws of physics and the universe they govern as part and parcel of a unitary system, and to be incorporated together within a common explanatory scheme.
In other words, the laws should have an explanation from within the universe and not involve appealing to an external agency. The specifics of that explanation are a matter for future research. But until science comes up with a testable theory of the laws of the universe, its claim to be free of faith is manifestly bogus.
The writer is the director of Beyond, a research centre at Arizona State University, and the author of Cosmic Jackpot: Why Our Universe Is Just Right For Life.
Copyright: New York Times Syndicate
Water Safety
Team 'decided not to wear life jackets to paddle faster'
They found water calm and were confident during practice, says association president
By Carolyn Quek
A BIG LOSS: Photos of the dead dragon boat team members were placed outside a tented area at the mortuary where their bodies were taken to yesterday. They are Messrs Jeremy Goh (from left), Chee Wei Cheng, Stephen Loh, Poh Boon San and Reuben Kee. -- ST PHOTO: LIM WUI LIANG
PHNOM PENH - SINGAPORE'S dragon boat team wore their life jackets when they trained on the Tonle Sap before their race last Friday.
They found the water calm enough and were confident even using a different kind of boat for the Cambodian water festival race.
So after a discussion, they decided that they would be able to paddle faster and better without their life jackets, Rear-Admiral (Retired) Kwek Siew Jin, president of the Singapore Dragon Boat Association, said yesterday.
'They felt that conditions were benign enough for them not to have to wear the life jackets,' he said.
Speaking to reporters here, he said that had he known, he would not have allowed them to discard their life jackets.
In Singapore, for sure, that would not have been allowed. But life jackets were optional in the Tonle Sap race, and the team went with their decision.
RADM Kwek stressed that the paddlers were all very experienced, had a good assessment of the situation and were all strong swimmers.
'I tell you, these people are very comfortable in the water, with several years of experience. Otherwise, they can't make the national team,' he said.
'Look at the size of the captain. All of them have been training for years. If they are not rowing, they are training on weights.'
He said there would be 'a very thorough investigation', less to find fault than to find out how the tragedy could have been averted.
One answer, he said, might be to insist that paddlers wear life jackets in all competitions in future, no matter where they race and what the rules of the competition are.
RADM Kwek said that the 22 team members represented the cream of the crop in the sport, chosen from different dragon boating squads in Singapore.
They had hoped to make next month's South-east Asian Games in Thailand in the traditional boat race event, but the Singapore National Olympic Council turned them down.
Among other things, athletes or teams aiming for selection were expected to better or equal the third-placed timing of the last SEA Games to qualify.
The senior vice-president of the dragon boat association, Member of Parliament Lam Pin Min, said yesterday that the paddlers were invited by the Cambodian government in September to take part in the Tonle Sap races.
He said the team would probably have gone to Tonle Sap even if they had been selected for the SEA Games as it would have given them additional exposure.
RADM Kwek said the national squad members shared a fierce love and dedication for the sport, and spent so much time practising or working out that many were hardly home.
So when five of the men went missing on Friday, the others were devastated.
'In dragon boating, especially, the team spirit is very strong,' said RADM Kwek.
The deaths had left the surviving paddlers too distraught to speak to the media, he said, explaining why team members had refused to say anything to reporters all weekend.
The team is scheduled to leave Phnom Penh for Singapore this morning.
'We initially wanted them to go home as early as possible, but they requested to stay on because they wanted to know the fate of their team members,' he said.
He said the deaths of the five men were a great loss not only to their families, but also the sport.
'We were building up the national team. We hoped in the next few years, they could be good enough to compete internationally. Now, we have lost the services of five really good sportsmen,' he said.
He said he did not know all of the dead men personally.
'I usually meet them as a team, and you know how they all look the same - all big-sized and all beautifully built.'
carolynq@sph.com.sg
ADDITIONAL REPORTING BY LEONARD LIM IN SINGAPORE
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The Mekong river - The Economist
The sweet serpent of South-East Asia
Dec 30th 2003
From The Economist print edition
How much longer will the Mekong remain the world's last great unspoilt river?
EVERY October, on the night of the full moon, small globes of light rise from the Mekong river along the border of Laos and Thailand. One theory holds that methane drawn from the riverbed by the gravitational pull of the moon causes the “Naga fireballs”, as locals call the phenomenon. The devout, on the other hand, consider it a sort of spiritual firework display to celebrate the end of Buddhist Lent, while sceptics say that it is all a hoax, perpetrated by Laotian monks to put the fear of god into their flock.
Then there are the bizarre creatures that navigate these shifting currents: catfish the size of cows, dome-headed dolphins, crocodiles with a taste for royal blood—and relatively few people. Uniquely for such a big river in the heart of tropical Asia, the biggest city along the Mekong's banks—Phnom Penh—has a mere 1.1m inhabitants. That makes the river unusual in another respect: the pressure of a burgeoning population and fast economic growth is only just beginning to make its mark on the Mekong. But the outcome could be all too familiar: a poor compromise between conservation and development.
For centuries, the Mekong has disappointed those who have dreamed of turning it into a major artery of trade and industry. At times, overland routes have rivalled maritime ones as a conduit for east-west trade in Asia, but the sea has always provided the simplest way of getting from north to south. Thus Marco Polo probably crossed the Mekong on his way home to Europe from China in the 13th century, but did not travel along it. At any rate, he considered the river so inconsequential that he did not mention it in his account of the journey.
About the same time, 1,600km (1,000 miles) to the south, the only major civilisation to be built around the Mekong, the empire of Angkor, was reaching its apogee. Its Cambodian heartland sustained a population of at least 1m through rice farming along the shores of the Tonle Sap, and fishing in its waters. But the Mekong played a part in the empire's trade only in so far as it provided an outlet to the sea. The Chinese merchants and ambassadors who visited Angkor in its heyday came by boat from China's coast and then up the Mekong from the delta, not downriver from the Chinese province of Yunnan.
Four thousand obstacles
They did so in part because the Mekong is not navigable much beyond Phnom Penh. In the dry season, when the river is low, boats must dodge endless jagged reefs and shifting sandbars. Even when the water level crests, the many rapids of Si Phan Don, or “Four Thousand Islands”, in what is now southern Laos, form an insurmountable obstacle to shipping. Over a stretch of 30km, the Mekong divides into a muddled network of streams and channels, tumbling over cascades and shoals.
But the main reason this huge river has always been such a commercial backwater is the scanty population along its course. The biggest expanse of flat, well-watered and fertile land in the basin lies around Tonle Sap lake, but the devastating annual flood makes intensive agriculture difficult there. Depending on the strength of the rains, the surface area of the lake can swell to up to ten times its normal size during the monsoon. But the water recedes quickly when the rains stop, so the land is alternately flooded and parched.
No wonder, then, that the most powerful countries in the region took shape in more hospitable river basins: China on the Yangtze and Yellow rivers, Thailand on the Chao Phraya, Vietnam on the Red, and Burma on the Irrawaddy, leaving the lower Mekong to much-diminished Cambodian kingdoms. North of Cambodia, the Mekong flows through the periphery, not the centre, of all these countries.
European explorers, who began snooping around the Mekong in the 16th century, took hundreds of years to work that out, though. In the 1590s a party of Iberian conquistadors overthrew the Cambodian king and set themselves up as governors in the Mekong delta. A Dutchman, Gerritt van Wuysthoff, struggled upriver as far as Vientiane in 1641. But as late as the 1860s, when France conquered Vietnam and Cambodia, colonial officials knew nothing of the river's northern reaches. They still hoped that it might provide a lucrative back door to China, and in 1866 sent an expedition to explore both the Mekong's course and its commercial potential.
The leader of the expedition died en route, and the survivors brought back grim reports of impassable rapids and lawless hinterlands. But the optimists pressed on. They seized control of Laos in 1893, and tried to turn the Mekong into a thoroughfare linking all their colonies in Indochina. To get round the rapids in Si Phan Don, they built a railway across the river's two southernmost islands, Khon and Det, close to the Laos-Cambodia border. Goods could be shifted from boat to train at the southern terminus of the railway on Khon, below the rapids, and carried to a vessel above them, at the northern end of Det.
The scheme was more a triumph of engineering than of economics, however. Chinese merchants still found it cheaper to send goods to Laos overland via Thailand. After the second world war, the railway—the only one in Laos—fell into disuse. By now, villagers on Khon have prised up most of the tracks for use as fencing. Water buffalo graze on the grass that has sprouted on the old railway bridge linking Det and Khon. Not far off, a rusty French locomotive lies abandoned in a bog.
In the 1950s and 1960s, America, too, dreamed of harnessing the Mekong to enrich Indochina, and thus dent support for the region's communist insurgents. Its allies in the region, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and South Vietnam, set up an agency called the Mekong Committee to co-ordinate joint development projects. Plans were drawn up to dam the Mekong, and engineers got as far as surveying several sites before the ever-intensifying Vietnam war put an end to such schemes.
Thanks to all these disappointments, the Mekong remained almost untouched until the 1990s. The first dam on the river, at Man Wan, in China, was not completed until 1993. The first bridge across the lower Mekong (ie, outside China) was built a year later, between Vientiane in Laos and Nong Khai in Thailand. To this day, much of the river feels deserted. Between the town of Stung Treng, in northern Cambodia, and the Laotian border, hardly a house can be seen. There is so little traffic on the road that runs parallel to the river north of the border that “you could sleep on it,” as one local remarks. Farther north still, along some stretches of the river near Luang Prabang, only odd patches of cultivated land give any hint of human settlement.
But that is changing fast. The population of Cambodia is growing by 2.6% a year, and that of Laos by 2.3%—among the highest rates in Asia. Growth is lower in the Thai and Vietnamese parts of the basin, but they have long been more densely populated. Economic growth is even faster: 5-6% in 2003 in Thailand, Laos and Cambodia, 7-8% in China and Vietnam.
Build and destroy
To accelerate this trend, the Asian Development Bank (ADB) is promoting a scheme to integrate the economies of the “greater Mekong sub-region”. Two north-south highways are under construction to link China and Thailand, one via Laos and the other via Myanmar. So are five east-west routes linking Thailand and Vietnam, three via Laos and two via Cambodia. A tie-up of electricity grids and telecoms networks is also getting under way.
The ADB may find it as difficult to make the region boom as the French and Americans did. But one element of the current development drive is bound to leave its mark on the Mekong: dam-building. According to the International Rivers Network, an anti-dam group, some 100 large dams are proposed for the Mekong basin.
China has already completed two on the Mekong itself, has started work on a third, and plans at least four more. By the time the Mekong enters Vietnam, it has already formed a delta, leaving no opportunity for dam-building—so the government is building five dams on the one big tributary that strays across its mountainous border with Cambodia instead. Thailand, too, has dammed the main tributaries that flow across its territory. The biggest dam enthusiast of all is dirt-poor Laos, which hopes to enrich itself by building enough hydropower projects to become the battery of South-East Asia.
This barrage of dams generates valuable electricity, aids irrigation and regulates flooding—but in the process does irreparable damage to what was, until recently, the Mekong's most valuable resource: its fisheries. The Mekong and its tributaries yield more fish than any other river system. The annual harvest, including fish farms, amounts to about 2m tonnes—or roughly twice the catch from the North Sea. The Mekong is home to over 1,200 different species of fish, more than any other river save the Amazon and the Congo. Over 1m people in Cambodia depend solely on fishing to make a living, while in Laos 70% of rural households supplement their income by fishing.
The abundance of fish stems from the Mekong's seasonal ebb and flow. During the monsoon, when the plains around the river and its tributaries flood, the habitat for fish suddenly increases by as much as ten times. Moreover, much of the flood-plain is actually forest, which provides a particularly nutritious array of rotting leaves for the fish to feed on. Many species in the Mekong have evolved to take advantage of this delectable smorgasbord. They spawn at the end of the dry season, so that the coming floods can carry the fry to the flood-plain. The bigger the flood, the greater the feast on offer, and so the fatter and more numerous the fish.
More dams, however, mean smaller floods. Most hydroelectric plants aim to generate the same amount of energy year-round. That requires a consistent flow through the turbines, which in turn requires rainwater to be held in a reservoir for use in the dry season. The same drawback, of course, applies to dams designed for flood control. Dams for irrigation, meanwhile, have a doubly damaging impact on fisheries: they not only hold back water, but also encourage the conversion of forest to farmland in the flood-plain.
Irrigated rice-farming, which is two or three times more productive than the rain-fed sort, is growing rapidly throughout the basin, albeit from a low base. In Laos alone, the area under irrigation increased eightfold in the 1990s. Meanwhile, the Mekong River Commission, the latter-day successor to the Mekong Committee, calculates that flood levels have fallen by almost 11% since 1965.
Fishermen all along the Mekong are already complaining of falling catches. For now, at any rate, the problem stems more from the growing number of fishermen than from falling numbers of fish. The Mekong River Commission calculates that the fish catch actually doubled in Cambodia between the 1940s and the 1990s. But over the same period, the number of fishermen (along with the population as a whole) has more than tripled, leading to a decline of 44% in the amount each one takes home.
To make matters worse, even if the catch as a whole is stable, certain species are clearly dying out. The Siamese crocodile, which used to pluck picnicking princesses off the riverbank, according to French explorers, has already disappeared from the main river. Perhaps a few hundred remain in the forested highlands of Laos and Cambodia—but they too are threatened by hunting and habitat loss.
A similar fate awaits the Irrawaddy dolphin. According to Isabel Beasley, an academic, there are only about 70 of these dark grey, snoutless creatures left in the entire Mekong basin. These few survivors, she explains, follow the fish in the dry season to deep pools in the bed of the river near Kratie, in Cambodia. Despite their scarcity, they can easily be spied at these spots, breaking the surface in gentle arcs in pods of three or four. But fishermen also follow the fish, and often snag the dolphins unintentionally in the large-mesh nets they leave unattended for days at a time. As mammals, they need to come to the surface to breathe at intervals of roughly 20 minutes. So any that are caught in nets have usually drowned long before the fishermen return to inspect their catch.
Suffering catfish
The reasons behind the dramatic decline in other species are murkier. Take the giant catfish, the world's largest freshwater fish, which can grow up to 3 metres (10 feet) in length and weigh up to 300kg (660lb). It used to be found throughout the Mekong basin, but has completely disappeared from most areas. In Chiang Khong, traditionally a prime fishing ground, the catch declined from 69 in 1990 to two in 2000, and none since. Unlike smaller species, which reach reproductive age within a year, giant catfish take about seven years to mature, and so are seven times more vulnerable to over-fishing. They also migrate upstream to spawn, though no one knows where, exactly, they go, and therefore whether the proliferation of dams is playing a part in their demise.
In general, the Mekong is so little studied that the effects of any development project are hard to predict. China, for example, is paying for a scheme that involves blowing up reefs in Laos, Myanmar and Thailand, to provide a navigable channel for ships of up to 150 tonnes. But halfway through the blasting, the Thai government has suspended the project, for fear that the faster flow of an unimpeded current would increase erosion and thus alter the midstream boundary with Laos. Fishermen also worry that, since the reefs may be prime breeding-grounds for fish, including the giant catfish, the catch of all species will plummet if their habitat is destroyed.
That fear is not far-fetched. Something similar happened in 1994, when Thailand, with money from the World Bank, completed a hydropower dam on the Mun river, a major tributary of the Mekong. Since then, the fish catch directly upstream has declined by 60-80%, according to a study by the World Commission on Dams. The same study argued that, thanks to cost overruns and lower-than-expected generation at peak times, it would have made more sense to build a gas-fired plant.
To avoid a similar fiasco, the World Bank is insisting on umpteen studies and safeguards for the Nam Theun II, a big dam it is financing on a tributary of the Mekong in Laos. But the authoritarian rulers of China, Myanmar and Vietnam do not always mull over big projects so carefully, and no cost-benefit analysis at all is made of the thousands of small dams, irrigation schemes and land clearances that are undertaken each year throughout the basin. Anyway, governments in upstream countries are unlikely to give much thought to the impact of projects on lowly fishermen or farmers beyond their borders.
In theory, that is the job of the Mekong River Commission. Its members, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and Thailand, are slowly drawing up pacts on the exploitation of the Mekong and its tributaries. In 2001 they agreed to exchange data on water flows. A pledge to notify one another about big projects came next, and then a system to check up on such declarations. Next year, if all goes according to plan, they will fix the minimum amount of water each country must discharge downstream and, in 2005, rules on water quality.
But none of these pacts will amount to much so long as China and Myanmar refuse to join the Mekong River Commission. Officials from downstream countries—somewhat hypocritically—say that China's dam-building schemes threaten the whole basin. But for upstream countries, of course, membership of the commission would bring many restrictions and few benefits.
China has, however, been keen to rid itself of the image of a budding regional bully, and has courted South-East Asian countries with trade concessions. It also needs the acquiescence of downstream countries in schemes such as the reef-blasting. In 2001 it agreed to the minimal step of sharing data on water levels with the commission, to provide an early-warning system for floods. After all, say officials at the commission, co-operation among the riparian states, like the river itself, should flow in both directions.
Writer's dilemma
Writers bloc
Scriptwriters in Singapore are often an unknown lot, but they are hopeful things will change
By Boon Chan
NOT SEEN BUT HEARD: Ms Tan Wei Lyn (left) and Ms Bon Sek Yieng (right) are behind the Golden Horse-nominated original script for the movie, Just Follow Law, while Mr Lionel Chok (centre) wrote for drama series, Random Acts, which aired on Arts Central. -- ST PHOTO: ALAN LIM
UNDER One Roof, Growing Up, Don't Worry Be Happy - they are are all well-loved local TV series.
While audiences would have little trouble coming up with the actors associated with these shows, they would be hard put to name a single writer responsible for the scripts.
So who are these people who keep viewers glued to the goggle box? While members of the Writers Guild of America - some of whom are the wordsmiths behind hits like Desperate Housewives - continue to strike for better terms, how are scribes in Singapore faring?
President of the Screenwriters Association (Singapore) (SWA) Woon Chet Choon estimates that there are 'dozens' of full-time writers here, largely with MediaCorp, and about 200 part-time ones.
The SWA was set up in 2000 by Daniel Chan, then a film lecturer at Ngee Ann Polytechnic. The association currently has over 1,000 names in its mailing list.
While an average writer in the US might make about US$50,000 (S$73,000) a year, a part-time one here would be lucky to clear $5,000 from writing alone.
Ms Tan Wei Lyn, 35, who co-wrote the Golden Horse award-nominated original script for Jack Neo's Just Follow Law, says: 'Realistically, to feed yourself as a scriptwriter in Singapore, you can't venture far from TV.'
A fresh graduate can expect to make about $2,500 a month as a full-time writer at a TV station and command $5,000 and up with five years of experience under his belt.
Freelance director and writer Han Yew Kwang, 32, says: 'If you're really hardworking, you could make $5,000 a month writing five episodes for a TV show, but then you probably won't enjoy the writing process'.
But the likelihood of a new writer being able to land such a deal is quite low. You need to make a name for yourself, then people would come and look for you, says Ms Tan.
However, Ms Bon Sek Yieng, 42, fellow co-writer for Law, feels it is probably easier to make a living as a scriptwriter now compared to the past.
TV stations used to have a monopoly on the production of programmes, but there has been an 'opening up' and independent production houses now handle a greater volume of work which they, in turn, farm out to freelancers.
Another challenge faced by writers here is that there are no industry standards on payment and contract terms. Contracts often do not stipulate the number of drafts to be delivered and writers sometimes do not see a paycheque until a script is finalised or when the production is completed.
Freelance writer-director Lionel Chok, 34, says his wish-list includes 10 per cent of the payment delivered for a first draft and a limit of five drafts.
He once did eight drafts for a TV programme and 'it was three months of work but I could not command three months of pay'.
He concludes that it's very difficult to make a living as a full-time writer, and a person would have to dabble in all platforms including writing for magazines and corporate videos.
One of the benefits for members listed on the SWA's website is to 'provide a unified voice for the screenwriting community in promoting fair practices within the industry'. But Mr Woon admits that the SWA is not meant to be a guild or union, and has been more concerned with raising standards of writing here.
Gaining recognition's tough
WHILE monetary remuneration is a key concern of writers, it is only part of the equation.
Ms Tan says: 'It's hard to gain recognition for writing, while you can tell good acting and directing.'
Of her nomination for Best Original Script, she says that any recognition is a good thing, and hopefully more writers here will get more exposure.
The director of development and head writer of animation studio Peach Blossom Media, Mr Andy Logam-Tan, 37, says: 'There is somewhat less respect for people in the creative line as a rule because it is difficult to measure results.'
Still, he is encouraged that people have begun to make a genuine effort to look at the product, rather than the rate of output, of writers.
Then there is the question of creative control.
Mr Han, who worked for four years at TV stations here, says writers can sometimes initiate a project, but when it goes into production, the producer and directors take over and the writer has to let go creatively.
Ms Tan concurs to an extent: 'In the old days, the director used to be king but people are realising that it's hard to start from a blank page.' But while there is 'a growing appreciation for writers, we are also easy targets. When something doesn't work, it's the writer's fault'.
To Ms Chen Sew Khoon, 47, a story planner for MediaCorp's Mandarin drama serials, scriptwriting is not an individual but a team effort. There has to be give and take and writers may not be aware of the reasons for changes, such as production limitations.
Mr Chok puts it this way: 'Writers understand that there can't be 100 per cent creative control; even in the United States, it's a question of how much creativity you can try to inject into any project.
'If you want it to be 100 per cent yours, make your own short film or play.'
The write steps
MOVING ahead, there are scenarios that writers would be glad to see realised in the industry.
Mr Tan notes that 'we have not had a situation as in the States where a writer runs the show'.
Again, unlike in the US, Mr Han observes that it is not common to have a creator credit for projects. A bigger problem might be the lack of a proper long-term scriptwriting course, he adds.
That is why Ms Tan is returning to MediaCorp to head the English comedy and drama division. Having benefited from a more structured system as a novice writer which included a scriptwriting course and being assigned a mentor, she is keen to help train more writers now.
The growing awareness of the importance of content creation is also reflected in official schemes to encourage writing.
The Singapore Film Commission's (SFC) Script Development Grant was launched in December 2003 to help writers develop their stories into feature film scripts. A grant of $6,000 is given to each successful applicant and the total number of recipients as of July this year was 54.
Mr Man Shu Sum, the Media Development Authority's (MDA) broadcast and film development director as well as SFC director, also recognises there is a need for scriptwriters to improve their skills through training by professionals.
To this end, MDA has organised scriptwriting and script-consulting masterclasses and workshops for local writers.
For Mr Tan, writing should be seen as a decent money-earning job, and writers' salaries should be matched to comparable professions like engineering. 'After all, this is what writing is, to design and construct a product.'
If the industry developments in Hollywood can be said to resemble a potboiler, then perhaps the situation here is still very much a work in progress.
bchan@sph.com.sg
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Realistically, to feed yourself as a scriptwriter in Singapore
Scriptwriters in Singapore are often an unknown lot, but they are hopeful things will change
By Boon Chan
NOT SEEN BUT HEARD: Ms Tan Wei Lyn (left) and Ms Bon Sek Yieng (right) are behind the Golden Horse-nominated original script for the movie, Just Follow Law, while Mr Lionel Chok (centre) wrote for drama series, Random Acts, which aired on Arts Central. -- ST PHOTO: ALAN LIM
UNDER One Roof, Growing Up, Don't Worry Be Happy - they are are all well-loved local TV series.
While audiences would have little trouble coming up with the actors associated with these shows, they would be hard put to name a single writer responsible for the scripts.
So who are these people who keep viewers glued to the goggle box? While members of the Writers Guild of America - some of whom are the wordsmiths behind hits like Desperate Housewives - continue to strike for better terms, how are scribes in Singapore faring?
President of the Screenwriters Association (Singapore) (SWA) Woon Chet Choon estimates that there are 'dozens' of full-time writers here, largely with MediaCorp, and about 200 part-time ones.
The SWA was set up in 2000 by Daniel Chan, then a film lecturer at Ngee Ann Polytechnic. The association currently has over 1,000 names in its mailing list.
While an average writer in the US might make about US$50,000 (S$73,000) a year, a part-time one here would be lucky to clear $5,000 from writing alone.
Ms Tan Wei Lyn, 35, who co-wrote the Golden Horse award-nominated original script for Jack Neo's Just Follow Law, says: 'Realistically, to feed yourself as a scriptwriter in Singapore, you can't venture far from TV.'
A fresh graduate can expect to make about $2,500 a month as a full-time writer at a TV station and command $5,000 and up with five years of experience under his belt.
Freelance director and writer Han Yew Kwang, 32, says: 'If you're really hardworking, you could make $5,000 a month writing five episodes for a TV show, but then you probably won't enjoy the writing process'.
But the likelihood of a new writer being able to land such a deal is quite low. You need to make a name for yourself, then people would come and look for you, says Ms Tan.
However, Ms Bon Sek Yieng, 42, fellow co-writer for Law, feels it is probably easier to make a living as a scriptwriter now compared to the past.
TV stations used to have a monopoly on the production of programmes, but there has been an 'opening up' and independent production houses now handle a greater volume of work which they, in turn, farm out to freelancers.
Another challenge faced by writers here is that there are no industry standards on payment and contract terms. Contracts often do not stipulate the number of drafts to be delivered and writers sometimes do not see a paycheque until a script is finalised or when the production is completed.
Freelance writer-director Lionel Chok, 34, says his wish-list includes 10 per cent of the payment delivered for a first draft and a limit of five drafts.
He once did eight drafts for a TV programme and 'it was three months of work but I could not command three months of pay'.
He concludes that it's very difficult to make a living as a full-time writer, and a person would have to dabble in all platforms including writing for magazines and corporate videos.
One of the benefits for members listed on the SWA's website is to 'provide a unified voice for the screenwriting community in promoting fair practices within the industry'. But Mr Woon admits that the SWA is not meant to be a guild or union, and has been more concerned with raising standards of writing here.
Gaining recognition's tough
WHILE monetary remuneration is a key concern of writers, it is only part of the equation.
Ms Tan says: 'It's hard to gain recognition for writing, while you can tell good acting and directing.'
Of her nomination for Best Original Script, she says that any recognition is a good thing, and hopefully more writers here will get more exposure.
The director of development and head writer of animation studio Peach Blossom Media, Mr Andy Logam-Tan, 37, says: 'There is somewhat less respect for people in the creative line as a rule because it is difficult to measure results.'
Still, he is encouraged that people have begun to make a genuine effort to look at the product, rather than the rate of output, of writers.
Then there is the question of creative control.
Mr Han, who worked for four years at TV stations here, says writers can sometimes initiate a project, but when it goes into production, the producer and directors take over and the writer has to let go creatively.
Ms Tan concurs to an extent: 'In the old days, the director used to be king but people are realising that it's hard to start from a blank page.' But while there is 'a growing appreciation for writers, we are also easy targets. When something doesn't work, it's the writer's fault'.
To Ms Chen Sew Khoon, 47, a story planner for MediaCorp's Mandarin drama serials, scriptwriting is not an individual but a team effort. There has to be give and take and writers may not be aware of the reasons for changes, such as production limitations.
Mr Chok puts it this way: 'Writers understand that there can't be 100 per cent creative control; even in the United States, it's a question of how much creativity you can try to inject into any project.
'If you want it to be 100 per cent yours, make your own short film or play.'
The write steps
MOVING ahead, there are scenarios that writers would be glad to see realised in the industry.
Mr Tan notes that 'we have not had a situation as in the States where a writer runs the show'.
Again, unlike in the US, Mr Han observes that it is not common to have a creator credit for projects. A bigger problem might be the lack of a proper long-term scriptwriting course, he adds.
That is why Ms Tan is returning to MediaCorp to head the English comedy and drama division. Having benefited from a more structured system as a novice writer which included a scriptwriting course and being assigned a mentor, she is keen to help train more writers now.
The growing awareness of the importance of content creation is also reflected in official schemes to encourage writing.
The Singapore Film Commission's (SFC) Script Development Grant was launched in December 2003 to help writers develop their stories into feature film scripts. A grant of $6,000 is given to each successful applicant and the total number of recipients as of July this year was 54.
Mr Man Shu Sum, the Media Development Authority's (MDA) broadcast and film development director as well as SFC director, also recognises there is a need for scriptwriters to improve their skills through training by professionals.
To this end, MDA has organised scriptwriting and script-consulting masterclasses and workshops for local writers.
For Mr Tan, writing should be seen as a decent money-earning job, and writers' salaries should be matched to comparable professions like engineering. 'After all, this is what writing is, to design and construct a product.'
If the industry developments in Hollywood can be said to resemble a potboiler, then perhaps the situation here is still very much a work in progress.
bchan@sph.com.sg
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Realistically, to feed yourself as a scriptwriter in Singapore
Taming Inflation
Taming inflation
With inflation hitting a 16-year high of 3.6 per cent and likely to go up to 5 per cent next year, Erica Tay looks at what can be done to rein in rising prices
IF IT seems that eating out and getting around town has become more expensive these days, the latest hard data from official number-crunchers confirms that indeed it has.
Prices in October, as measured by the consumer price index (CPI), are 3.6 per cent higher than a year ago - the fastest rise in 16 years.
The rate of increase in the CPI - known as the headline inflation rate - has literally been making headlines as Singaporeans gripe about higher food prices and bigger petrol bills.
Hawker centre meals cost 2.8 per cent more compared to a year ago, statistics show.
Restaurant food costs 5.1 per cent more, and transport expenses have also gone up by the same percentage.
Staying at home and eating in? That is not getting cheaper either.
Prices of non-cooked food have crept up 5.6 per cent over the past year, with prices of dairy products and eggs up 9.9 per cent.
Is there any respite for workers who find that they are buying less with the same pay cheques?
What can policymakers do to tame rising inflation?
To understand how to tackle inflation, it is important to understand what is causing rising costs in the first place.
The drivers include July's goods and services tax hike, higher oil and food prices worldwide, and wage and rental increases fuelled by Singapore's red-hot economy.
These factors all play a part in explaining why a plate of chicken rice now costs $3 instead of $2.
But while they all result in higher prices, dealing with each factor requires a different prescription, say economists.
Good and bad news
THE good news is that inflation is set to come down by the end of next year.
The bad news? It is likely to climb higher before coming down.
Trade and Industry Minister Lim Hng Kiang recently told Parliament that inflation could go as high as 5 per cent in the first quarter of 2008 before moderating for the rest of the year.
On Monday, the Monetary Authority of Singapore predicted inflation for all of next year to range between 3.5 and 4.5 per cent.
'We think inflation will surge past 5 per cent early next year, and average 4 per cent for the whole of 2008,' predicted United Overseas Bank economist Suan Teck Kin.
An inflation rate of 5 per cent will be Singapore's highest in more than two decades, surpassing the 4 per cent peak seen in July 1991, noted Standard Chartered Bank economist Alvin Liew.
A perfect storm
A CONFLUENCE of factors is fanning inflationary pressures on several fronts, said Mr Suan.
Since July this year, one factor has been the 2-percentage- point hike in the GST.
That has the effect of lifting inflation for 12 months, until June next year, after which the effect will wear off, he said.
Another reason for escalating prices has been the sizzling economy.
Rapid expansion has been using up spare capacity in the economy and putting a squeeze on the supply of labour and other resources. Higher wages and rents then get passed on as higher consumer prices.
'The economy is not just getting hotter. It has gotten too hot,' said Citigroup economist Chua Hak Bin.
Singapore is running at full employment and this is driving up wages, he noted.
A shortage of commercial space is pushing up business rents, and new buildings, although under construction, take time to be completed.
Housing costs, too, are on the rise.
A hike next January in the annual assessed values of HDB flats by the tax authorities will push the CPI up by 1.5 to 2 percentage points, estimated Dr Chua.
Besides these domestic factors, along came other unexpected pressures.
The price of crude oil - a raw material for petrol and plastics - has shot up to a whisker shy of US$100 a barrel.
Also, the cost of food and commodities has been surging globally.
As HSBC economist Robert Prior-Wandesforde puts it: 'Prices are being pulled higher by an almost perfect storm of rising energy and food commodity prices, higher rents and the impact of July's GST rise.'
The impact
WHAT are the implications of accelerating prices?
For one, real wages and real interest rates will be hit, explained DBS Bank economist Irvin Seah.
If salaries go up by 5 per cent a year, but consumer prices rise by 5 per cent too, it brings workers back to square one, as their purchasing power stays the same.
Second, if inflation outstrips interest rates earned on deposits, the purchasing power of savings will be eroded, giving rise to 'negative real interest rates', he explained.
A pick-up in inflation would leave low-income workers more vulnerable, said Dr Chua.
Mr Seah said: 'The lowest income group will be hardest hit. The inflation faced by this group has typically been higher, and the recent spate of increase in food prices and hike in bus fares will certainly hurt their pockets a lot more than the rest.'
Mr Liew added: 'Although wages have generally been rising, lower-income workers typically don't get as much wage growth as the top earners, so their real income may go down quite a bit.'
What can be done?
ONE way to combat rising prices is for the central bank, which manages the Singapore dollar's exchange rate against a basket of currencies, to tighten monetary policy - that is, to let the Singdollar strengthen at a faster pace.
'External sources of inflation are something we can do little about, except by appreciating our currency,' said Fortis Bank strategist Joseph Tan.
'A faster rising Singdollar makes imports cheaper, and more drastic tightening might be called for at the next policy review in April,' he added.
But Citigroup's Dr Chua said monetary policy is unable to directly tackle domestic price pressures, particularly coming from a tight property market.
Initiatives have been taken to increase the supply of commercial and residential property, he noted.
Recent government moves to alleviate the squeeze on resources by postponing public projects were useful, said Mr Suan.
Mr Prior-Wandesforde pointed out: 'While denying that the economy is overheating, the government has clearly shown its concerns for the future via the various measures designed to cool the housing market as well as the delays in several construction projects, an increase in immigration and a contraction in real government spending as reported in the national accounts.'
On the demand side, policies to further cool the property market may be needed, said Mr Tan.
'There are different ways you can skin the cat, and the cat, in this instance, is the property market,' he said.
Aside from big-picture policies, economists also advocated that more be done in the Budget early next year to help low-wage earners cope with rising costs.
'There can be rebates targeted at low-wage families,' Mr Liew said.
Mr Tan pointed out: 'In the next Budget, we will need to look after those in the lower-income bracket. They are the ones typically caught out by higher inflation.'
ericatay@sph.com.sg
With inflation hitting a 16-year high of 3.6 per cent and likely to go up to 5 per cent next year, Erica Tay looks at what can be done to rein in rising prices
IF IT seems that eating out and getting around town has become more expensive these days, the latest hard data from official number-crunchers confirms that indeed it has.
Prices in October, as measured by the consumer price index (CPI), are 3.6 per cent higher than a year ago - the fastest rise in 16 years.
The rate of increase in the CPI - known as the headline inflation rate - has literally been making headlines as Singaporeans gripe about higher food prices and bigger petrol bills.
Hawker centre meals cost 2.8 per cent more compared to a year ago, statistics show.
Restaurant food costs 5.1 per cent more, and transport expenses have also gone up by the same percentage.
Staying at home and eating in? That is not getting cheaper either.
Prices of non-cooked food have crept up 5.6 per cent over the past year, with prices of dairy products and eggs up 9.9 per cent.
Is there any respite for workers who find that they are buying less with the same pay cheques?
What can policymakers do to tame rising inflation?
To understand how to tackle inflation, it is important to understand what is causing rising costs in the first place.
The drivers include July's goods and services tax hike, higher oil and food prices worldwide, and wage and rental increases fuelled by Singapore's red-hot economy.
These factors all play a part in explaining why a plate of chicken rice now costs $3 instead of $2.
But while they all result in higher prices, dealing with each factor requires a different prescription, say economists.
Good and bad news
THE good news is that inflation is set to come down by the end of next year.
The bad news? It is likely to climb higher before coming down.
Trade and Industry Minister Lim Hng Kiang recently told Parliament that inflation could go as high as 5 per cent in the first quarter of 2008 before moderating for the rest of the year.
On Monday, the Monetary Authority of Singapore predicted inflation for all of next year to range between 3.5 and 4.5 per cent.
'We think inflation will surge past 5 per cent early next year, and average 4 per cent for the whole of 2008,' predicted United Overseas Bank economist Suan Teck Kin.
An inflation rate of 5 per cent will be Singapore's highest in more than two decades, surpassing the 4 per cent peak seen in July 1991, noted Standard Chartered Bank economist Alvin Liew.
A perfect storm
A CONFLUENCE of factors is fanning inflationary pressures on several fronts, said Mr Suan.
Since July this year, one factor has been the 2-percentage- point hike in the GST.
That has the effect of lifting inflation for 12 months, until June next year, after which the effect will wear off, he said.
Another reason for escalating prices has been the sizzling economy.
Rapid expansion has been using up spare capacity in the economy and putting a squeeze on the supply of labour and other resources. Higher wages and rents then get passed on as higher consumer prices.
'The economy is not just getting hotter. It has gotten too hot,' said Citigroup economist Chua Hak Bin.
Singapore is running at full employment and this is driving up wages, he noted.
A shortage of commercial space is pushing up business rents, and new buildings, although under construction, take time to be completed.
Housing costs, too, are on the rise.
A hike next January in the annual assessed values of HDB flats by the tax authorities will push the CPI up by 1.5 to 2 percentage points, estimated Dr Chua.
Besides these domestic factors, along came other unexpected pressures.
The price of crude oil - a raw material for petrol and plastics - has shot up to a whisker shy of US$100 a barrel.
Also, the cost of food and commodities has been surging globally.
As HSBC economist Robert Prior-Wandesforde puts it: 'Prices are being pulled higher by an almost perfect storm of rising energy and food commodity prices, higher rents and the impact of July's GST rise.'
The impact
WHAT are the implications of accelerating prices?
For one, real wages and real interest rates will be hit, explained DBS Bank economist Irvin Seah.
If salaries go up by 5 per cent a year, but consumer prices rise by 5 per cent too, it brings workers back to square one, as their purchasing power stays the same.
Second, if inflation outstrips interest rates earned on deposits, the purchasing power of savings will be eroded, giving rise to 'negative real interest rates', he explained.
A pick-up in inflation would leave low-income workers more vulnerable, said Dr Chua.
Mr Seah said: 'The lowest income group will be hardest hit. The inflation faced by this group has typically been higher, and the recent spate of increase in food prices and hike in bus fares will certainly hurt their pockets a lot more than the rest.'
Mr Liew added: 'Although wages have generally been rising, lower-income workers typically don't get as much wage growth as the top earners, so their real income may go down quite a bit.'
What can be done?
ONE way to combat rising prices is for the central bank, which manages the Singapore dollar's exchange rate against a basket of currencies, to tighten monetary policy - that is, to let the Singdollar strengthen at a faster pace.
'External sources of inflation are something we can do little about, except by appreciating our currency,' said Fortis Bank strategist Joseph Tan.
'A faster rising Singdollar makes imports cheaper, and more drastic tightening might be called for at the next policy review in April,' he added.
But Citigroup's Dr Chua said monetary policy is unable to directly tackle domestic price pressures, particularly coming from a tight property market.
Initiatives have been taken to increase the supply of commercial and residential property, he noted.
Recent government moves to alleviate the squeeze on resources by postponing public projects were useful, said Mr Suan.
Mr Prior-Wandesforde pointed out: 'While denying that the economy is overheating, the government has clearly shown its concerns for the future via the various measures designed to cool the housing market as well as the delays in several construction projects, an increase in immigration and a contraction in real government spending as reported in the national accounts.'
On the demand side, policies to further cool the property market may be needed, said Mr Tan.
'There are different ways you can skin the cat, and the cat, in this instance, is the property market,' he said.
Aside from big-picture policies, economists also advocated that more be done in the Budget early next year to help low-wage earners cope with rising costs.
'There can be rebates targeted at low-wage families,' Mr Liew said.
Mr Tan pointed out: 'In the next Budget, we will need to look after those in the lower-income bracket. They are the ones typically caught out by higher inflation.'
ericatay@sph.com.sg
Nov 25, 2007
INBOX
Dance music too sexy for kids
I CAUGHT some performances at the Asian Children's Festival held outside the National Library on Nov17.
At first, I enjoyed the performances presented by the children, but my enjoyment turned to dismay when a group of girls, who looked to be around seven to nine years old, came on stage and danced to the song, Buttons, by the Pussycat Dolls (right).
With its sexual connotations, it is an inappropriate song for any young child to dance to, let alone to be presented as an item in a festival that was meant to celebrate the joy of being a child - and watched by many other youngsters.
Was the National Library Board (NLB), as the main organiser, aware of the implications of the song?
One could simply laugh it off as a 'small, trivial thing' and say the children were not aware of the hidden meaning of the song, let alone remember it.
I beg to differ. To carelessly underestimate a child's tendency to be influenced by the media he is exposed to is a huge oversight.
I hope the NLB and future organisers of such children's events will seriously take into account the age of the audience they are catering to.
Ruth Lee Ting En (Ms)
Sg education system - Give a pat on the back
RECORD PSLE SCORE
Singapore's education system works
By Koo Tsai Kee, For The Straits Times
THIS year's Primary School Leaving Examination results are heart-warming. Natasha Nabila Muhamad Nasir, a Malay girl from a working-class family attending a Christian school in a Gifted Education Programme class, tops the nationwide exam in grand style. Her score of 294 is a record that will remain for some time to come.
While her results are remarkable, the messages behind her achievement are familiar ones. Singapore is a place where everybody can do well. The elites do not have a monopoly on success. And success is not entrenched in the old establishment.
The first message is clear. The elites' children do not have a monopoly on good grades. The elites - having attended 'good' primary schools themselves - may cash in on their affiliation points and enrol their children in their old schools. But at the end, it is intelligence and, above all, diligence and motivation that produce good grades.
Every year, I see top PSLE students coming from working-class families. They worked themselves up from neighbourhood schools to GEP schools and then on to good secondary schools. Natasha is one such example. Our system gives them a chance for upward mobility. The system doesn't ask where you live and where you come from. It only asks if you are capable and willing to scale the peaks of excellence. The best schools are those that open the gate as wide as possible to the ablest and the most determined regardless of race, language, religion or wealth.
Money cannot buy intelligence, nor pedigree ensure clever children. Sure, money alone can buy some advantages; and pedigree can indeed give the child a head start. But the random nature of reproduction has shown that successful parents do not always have clever children.
The GEP has been much maligned. Changes are always welcome. But without the GEP, many outstanding students from working-class families in neighbourhood schools would not have been able to move to the good schools. They have no affiliation points to use, they cannot afford to live near good schools. In that sense, the GEP is a gold standard for transparency in enrolment. Only the motivated and intelligent need apply.
However, if parents think the GEP is a gift, they are mistaken. It is true that GEP students as a group do very well, but it is also well known that some fall by the wayside. The reason is clear. GEP students - however intelligent - do not have a passport to good results. Some GEP students could have come in by chance. Others may not be suitable for the academic rigour, while yet others find their interests elsewhere. Everybody has to prove themselves once again at the PSLE. The competition is re-set every few years.
In my daughter's primary school, 17 pupils obtained over-270 marks in this year's PSLE. Of the 17, only 10 came from the GEP, the rest came from mainstream classes. But what is noteworthy is that eight out of the 10 GEP students who scored over 270 marks had come from neighbourhood schools.
The second message is the multiplying strength of diversity and social harmony. Children of all races and religions, across economic profiles, study together happily in the same environment. St Hilda's Primary did not pre-qualify only Christians. If it did, it would have lost Natasha. Nor is the school exclusively for members of the establishment and the rich. Natasha's father is a technician and her mother a full-time housewife.
And our system doesn't bankrupt families' savings. Tuition fees are so low they are even affordable to poor new immigrants. Scholarships allow them to go to the best universities.
The third message is that the system works. If it didn't, if it only produced exam-smart kids, then how does one account for the success of modern Singapore? What fuels this metropolis? The answer is smart Singaporeans. With limited natural resources and limited human resources, it is the quality of the people that matters. Quality education delivers quality people. Nothing else does.
Sometimes, news can be misleading. A headline in The Sunday Times told of how the international school United World College beat top local schools at The Arena debating competition. That attracted attention and created a noisy chatter. But no headline noted that UWC was beaten in another school debate series.
But really, headline news does not matter to most people. What really matters is how the average student performs. The average is the centre of gravity of our system. In the Natasha story, her score of 294 is outstanding, but it is the average score of the average PSLE student that vindicates our system.
Here, it should be noted that the average literacy level in Singapore is very high. And the average Singapore student has consistently done well in international benchmarking tests. This is the system which many international educators have been trying to approximate.
It is a system that works. It delivers the Singapore dream.
The writer is Singapore's Minister of State for Defence. This article, however, is written in a personal capacity.
Singapore's education system works
By Koo Tsai Kee, For The Straits Times
THIS year's Primary School Leaving Examination results are heart-warming. Natasha Nabila Muhamad Nasir, a Malay girl from a working-class family attending a Christian school in a Gifted Education Programme class, tops the nationwide exam in grand style. Her score of 294 is a record that will remain for some time to come.
While her results are remarkable, the messages behind her achievement are familiar ones. Singapore is a place where everybody can do well. The elites do not have a monopoly on success. And success is not entrenched in the old establishment.
The first message is clear. The elites' children do not have a monopoly on good grades. The elites - having attended 'good' primary schools themselves - may cash in on their affiliation points and enrol their children in their old schools. But at the end, it is intelligence and, above all, diligence and motivation that produce good grades.
Every year, I see top PSLE students coming from working-class families. They worked themselves up from neighbourhood schools to GEP schools and then on to good secondary schools. Natasha is one such example. Our system gives them a chance for upward mobility. The system doesn't ask where you live and where you come from. It only asks if you are capable and willing to scale the peaks of excellence. The best schools are those that open the gate as wide as possible to the ablest and the most determined regardless of race, language, religion or wealth.
Money cannot buy intelligence, nor pedigree ensure clever children. Sure, money alone can buy some advantages; and pedigree can indeed give the child a head start. But the random nature of reproduction has shown that successful parents do not always have clever children.
The GEP has been much maligned. Changes are always welcome. But without the GEP, many outstanding students from working-class families in neighbourhood schools would not have been able to move to the good schools. They have no affiliation points to use, they cannot afford to live near good schools. In that sense, the GEP is a gold standard for transparency in enrolment. Only the motivated and intelligent need apply.
However, if parents think the GEP is a gift, they are mistaken. It is true that GEP students as a group do very well, but it is also well known that some fall by the wayside. The reason is clear. GEP students - however intelligent - do not have a passport to good results. Some GEP students could have come in by chance. Others may not be suitable for the academic rigour, while yet others find their interests elsewhere. Everybody has to prove themselves once again at the PSLE. The competition is re-set every few years.
In my daughter's primary school, 17 pupils obtained over-270 marks in this year's PSLE. Of the 17, only 10 came from the GEP, the rest came from mainstream classes. But what is noteworthy is that eight out of the 10 GEP students who scored over 270 marks had come from neighbourhood schools.
The second message is the multiplying strength of diversity and social harmony. Children of all races and religions, across economic profiles, study together happily in the same environment. St Hilda's Primary did not pre-qualify only Christians. If it did, it would have lost Natasha. Nor is the school exclusively for members of the establishment and the rich. Natasha's father is a technician and her mother a full-time housewife.
And our system doesn't bankrupt families' savings. Tuition fees are so low they are even affordable to poor new immigrants. Scholarships allow them to go to the best universities.
The third message is that the system works. If it didn't, if it only produced exam-smart kids, then how does one account for the success of modern Singapore? What fuels this metropolis? The answer is smart Singaporeans. With limited natural resources and limited human resources, it is the quality of the people that matters. Quality education delivers quality people. Nothing else does.
Sometimes, news can be misleading. A headline in The Sunday Times told of how the international school United World College beat top local schools at The Arena debating competition. That attracted attention and created a noisy chatter. But no headline noted that UWC was beaten in another school debate series.
But really, headline news does not matter to most people. What really matters is how the average student performs. The average is the centre of gravity of our system. In the Natasha story, her score of 294 is outstanding, but it is the average score of the average PSLE student that vindicates our system.
Here, it should be noted that the average literacy level in Singapore is very high. And the average Singapore student has consistently done well in international benchmarking tests. This is the system which many international educators have been trying to approximate.
It is a system that works. It delivers the Singapore dream.
The writer is Singapore's Minister of State for Defence. This article, however, is written in a personal capacity.
Waging War against diseases
Nov 24, 2007
Waging war against infectious diseases
Top scientist says S'pore can't be free of these diseases unless region does its part
By Shobana Kesava
INFECTIOUS disease expert Duane Gubler, 68, puts himself in the front line in the war he wages.
He has been infected at least thrice with dengue, thrice with malaria and even deliberately infected himself with the filiarisis worm which causes elephantiasis - to better understand the disease.
He caught the two mosquito-borne diseases while trying to lure mosquitoes into biting monkeys, and while out in the field.
The former director of the vector-borne infectious diseases division at the US Centres for Disease Control and Prevention is now here to take research in these areas to the next level.
'The world is about 30 years behind in infectious diseases research because we thought we conquered them in the 1960s...Resources were moved into the war on other diseases like cancer.'
Ironically, scientists have discovered that certain cancers such as stomach cancer are, in fact, caused by the infectious diseases that have been neglected for decades.
Professor Gubler runs the Asia-Pacific Institute of Tropical Medicine and Infectious Diseases in Hawaii.
He is, from this month, concurrently heading the signature research programme in emerging infectious diseases at the Duke-National University of Singapore Graduate Medical School (Duke-NUS).
His plans for Singapore are ambitious - to set up the 'world's best laboratory for research and reference on Asian infectious diseases'.
Tens of millions will go into the laboratory, and with government support, money is not an issue, he said.
Good research will rope in funding from groups like the National Institutes of Health in the US and the Gates Foundation, he said.
The Government has declared its commitment to a concerted effort to fight infectious diseases. It will work with regional countries.
Duke-NUS will have about 70 investigators looking at areas such as metabolic disease, and will train students from the region too.
Field laboratories will also be set up in Asian countries, such as China and Vietnam, where there are emerging infectious diseases.
A key goal will be to develop an early warning disease detection system across Asia.
Singapore cannot be free of infectious disease, Prof Gubler noted, unless the region does its part.
While it is not known what the next epidemic will be, he is almost certain it will be a 'zoonotic' - a disease transmitted from animal to man - as was the case with severe acute respiratory syndrome, which was traced to civet cats.
Prof Gubler plans to spend most of his time in Singapore from next September, until the lab runs smoothly.
He said: 'Not only Asia needs it but the world needs it.'
skesava@sph.com.sg
Waging war against infectious diseases
Top scientist says S'pore can't be free of these diseases unless region does its part
By Shobana Kesava
INFECTIOUS disease expert Duane Gubler, 68, puts himself in the front line in the war he wages.
He has been infected at least thrice with dengue, thrice with malaria and even deliberately infected himself with the filiarisis worm which causes elephantiasis - to better understand the disease.
He caught the two mosquito-borne diseases while trying to lure mosquitoes into biting monkeys, and while out in the field.
The former director of the vector-borne infectious diseases division at the US Centres for Disease Control and Prevention is now here to take research in these areas to the next level.
'The world is about 30 years behind in infectious diseases research because we thought we conquered them in the 1960s...Resources were moved into the war on other diseases like cancer.'
Ironically, scientists have discovered that certain cancers such as stomach cancer are, in fact, caused by the infectious diseases that have been neglected for decades.
Professor Gubler runs the Asia-Pacific Institute of Tropical Medicine and Infectious Diseases in Hawaii.
He is, from this month, concurrently heading the signature research programme in emerging infectious diseases at the Duke-National University of Singapore Graduate Medical School (Duke-NUS).
His plans for Singapore are ambitious - to set up the 'world's best laboratory for research and reference on Asian infectious diseases'.
Tens of millions will go into the laboratory, and with government support, money is not an issue, he said.
Good research will rope in funding from groups like the National Institutes of Health in the US and the Gates Foundation, he said.
The Government has declared its commitment to a concerted effort to fight infectious diseases. It will work with regional countries.
Duke-NUS will have about 70 investigators looking at areas such as metabolic disease, and will train students from the region too.
Field laboratories will also be set up in Asian countries, such as China and Vietnam, where there are emerging infectious diseases.
A key goal will be to develop an early warning disease detection system across Asia.
Singapore cannot be free of infectious disease, Prof Gubler noted, unless the region does its part.
While it is not known what the next epidemic will be, he is almost certain it will be a 'zoonotic' - a disease transmitted from animal to man - as was the case with severe acute respiratory syndrome, which was traced to civet cats.
Prof Gubler plans to spend most of his time in Singapore from next September, until the lab runs smoothly.
He said: 'Not only Asia needs it but the world needs it.'
skesava@sph.com.sg
Art in his soul
Nov 24, 2007
Art in his soul
Writer-painter Gao Xingjian has thrown himself into his work after recovering from a serious heart condition. The peace he feels now has translated into softer paintings, which are on show here
By Adeline Chia, ARTS REPORTER
NOBEL laureate Gao Xingjian has been working with a vengeance the past year. He takes no holidays, does not rest on weekends and burns the midnight oil.
He says it is to make up for time lost in 2002 when he took two years to recover from a near-fatal condition which caused his major arteries to harden. It resulted in a creative dry spell.
The Paris-based writer-painter-film-maker, who won the Nobel Prize in literature in 2000, is in Singapore until Monday for a packed schedule of speaking engagements.
Gao, 67, also graced a ceremony last night to mark the donation of one of his paintings to the Singapore Art Museum (SAM).
This is his first trip out of Europe since he fell ill in 2002. He is accompanied by his wife, Chinese writer Xi Ling, 44. The couple have no children.
In an interview with Life! on Thursday, he says he is also pushing himself hard to make up for what he calls his 'wasted youth' in his native land. Censorship and political oppression limited his output then, he says.
He was thrown into a re-education camp during the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s and 1970s and was persecuted by the Chinese government for his 'antiParty' plays. He eventually moved to Paris in 1987 and became a French citizen in 1998.
Now, every waking hour is a race against the clock. He says: 'I spend most of my time creating works now. I have no holidays, no free weekends.'
Looking a little drawn but alert during the interview at the Fullerton Hotel, he recounts softly in Mandarin that the last time he set foot in Singapore was in 1988, when he was invited here by the late theatre doyen Kuo Pao Kun.
He says wistfully: 'It feels like yesterday.'
His interior universe
ANOTHER reason for his visit is to open his solo exhibition at the iPreciation gallery at the Fullerton. It features 22 works he created between 2005 and last year.
Most of the monochrome Chinese ink on paper works are on loan from private collectors in Europe and Asia, with five for sale.
Most of the works have abstract landscapes represented by washes of black and grey, and large areas of luminous white.
Gao says he is calmer and more peaceful now, so these works are in lighter, softer and more harmonious shades than his previous ones, which had more contrasting tones.
With titles such as Interior Universe and Black Thoughts, they are windows into his inner life.
'I rubbed shoulders with death and survived,' he says. 'God is merciful.'
Better health has also allowed him to paint larger works.
In fact, his donation to SAM is the largest painting he has ever done. Day And Night measures 1.9m by 4.7m and is on show at the museum's ongoing exhibition called The Big Picture Show.
He donated the painting to thank the museum for putting up an exhibition of his works in 2005 - his first retrospective in Asia - and to give scholars and arts lovers a chance to see his work without going to Europe.
The painting, which shows solitary and grouped figures in a balanced background of black and translucent grey - was completed in 10 days in a flash of inspiration. Gao, with a wide grin, calls it 'a miracle'.
Six years of hard labour
THIS new-found serenity seems a long way from the political claustrophobia in China he endured in his younger days.
He was encouraged to write, paint and play the violin by his actress mother and his father, a senior bank officer. A French language and literature student in the Beijing Institute of Foreign Languages, he later worked as a translator.
He is tight-lipped about his personal life, but he is known to have been married twice before. It has also been reported that his first wife denounced him to the authorities during the Cultural Revolution.
He had to burn 'kilos and kilos' of essays, plays and novels to avoid arrest. Nonetheless he was made to attend re-education camps and did hard labour in the fields for six years.
In 1981, he was resident playwright at Beijing People's Art Theatre, but his satirical plays such as Bus Stop (Chezhan) caused him to be blacklisted by the Chinese government.
Frustrated with censorship and political oppression, he left China in 1987 to settle in Paris, where he published a steady stream of short stories, novels and plays.
His seminal work, Soul Mountain (Lingshan), was completed in 1989, and is a meandering 81-chapter epic portraying an individual's search for roots, inner peace and liberty. The Chinese government denounced it as 'very, very average' but it received warm reviews abroad.
After the suppression of the Tiananmen Square demonstrations in June 1989, he renounced his membership in the Chinese Communist Party. His books were then banned in China.
On what drives his creative impulse through the ups and downs, he says: 'I faced a lot of oppression in China, but the only way to determine your own value as an artist is to create. Not through speeches or political action, but to say something using art.'
But he takes pains to distance himself from his experiences in China.
He says: 'The past seems so far away. I consider myself having three lives. The first is in China, where I encountered difficulties at every turn. The second life is in the West, where I consider myself a global citizen. That ended after winning the Nobel Prize, when I faced a lot of stress and fell sick.
'The third life is now, after I've risen from the shadow of death. That's why I treasure it. China seems like a completely different realm from now.
'I don't think about the past. I don't want to.'
Besides, the workaholic has more urgent things to think about.
Since June, he has been working relentlessly on a book of essays, On Creating, which tackles the themes of his works and 'the relationship between the intellectual and society in the 21st century'.
He figures that 'if anyone were to do a summation of my work I might as well do it myself'.
Other issues keep him busy.
He says: 'We are in the 21st century. We are facing new questions and crises, such as environment issues and global warming. Those old questions of the 20th century, of revolution and aesthetics, they are over.'
After the interview, he gamely autographs a catalogue and poses for pictures before doing another interview, one of many during his packed schedule.
He says: 'With so much to do, what is there to reminisce about? People ask why I don't write my own memoirs. I never even think of it.'
chiahta@sph.com.sg
Art in his soul
Writer-painter Gao Xingjian has thrown himself into his work after recovering from a serious heart condition. The peace he feels now has translated into softer paintings, which are on show here
By Adeline Chia, ARTS REPORTER
NOBEL laureate Gao Xingjian has been working with a vengeance the past year. He takes no holidays, does not rest on weekends and burns the midnight oil.
He says it is to make up for time lost in 2002 when he took two years to recover from a near-fatal condition which caused his major arteries to harden. It resulted in a creative dry spell.
The Paris-based writer-painter-film-maker, who won the Nobel Prize in literature in 2000, is in Singapore until Monday for a packed schedule of speaking engagements.
Gao, 67, also graced a ceremony last night to mark the donation of one of his paintings to the Singapore Art Museum (SAM).
This is his first trip out of Europe since he fell ill in 2002. He is accompanied by his wife, Chinese writer Xi Ling, 44. The couple have no children.
In an interview with Life! on Thursday, he says he is also pushing himself hard to make up for what he calls his 'wasted youth' in his native land. Censorship and political oppression limited his output then, he says.
He was thrown into a re-education camp during the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s and 1970s and was persecuted by the Chinese government for his 'antiParty' plays. He eventually moved to Paris in 1987 and became a French citizen in 1998.
Now, every waking hour is a race against the clock. He says: 'I spend most of my time creating works now. I have no holidays, no free weekends.'
Looking a little drawn but alert during the interview at the Fullerton Hotel, he recounts softly in Mandarin that the last time he set foot in Singapore was in 1988, when he was invited here by the late theatre doyen Kuo Pao Kun.
He says wistfully: 'It feels like yesterday.'
His interior universe
ANOTHER reason for his visit is to open his solo exhibition at the iPreciation gallery at the Fullerton. It features 22 works he created between 2005 and last year.
Most of the monochrome Chinese ink on paper works are on loan from private collectors in Europe and Asia, with five for sale.
Most of the works have abstract landscapes represented by washes of black and grey, and large areas of luminous white.
Gao says he is calmer and more peaceful now, so these works are in lighter, softer and more harmonious shades than his previous ones, which had more contrasting tones.
With titles such as Interior Universe and Black Thoughts, they are windows into his inner life.
'I rubbed shoulders with death and survived,' he says. 'God is merciful.'
Better health has also allowed him to paint larger works.
In fact, his donation to SAM is the largest painting he has ever done. Day And Night measures 1.9m by 4.7m and is on show at the museum's ongoing exhibition called The Big Picture Show.
He donated the painting to thank the museum for putting up an exhibition of his works in 2005 - his first retrospective in Asia - and to give scholars and arts lovers a chance to see his work without going to Europe.
The painting, which shows solitary and grouped figures in a balanced background of black and translucent grey - was completed in 10 days in a flash of inspiration. Gao, with a wide grin, calls it 'a miracle'.
Six years of hard labour
THIS new-found serenity seems a long way from the political claustrophobia in China he endured in his younger days.
He was encouraged to write, paint and play the violin by his actress mother and his father, a senior bank officer. A French language and literature student in the Beijing Institute of Foreign Languages, he later worked as a translator.
He is tight-lipped about his personal life, but he is known to have been married twice before. It has also been reported that his first wife denounced him to the authorities during the Cultural Revolution.
He had to burn 'kilos and kilos' of essays, plays and novels to avoid arrest. Nonetheless he was made to attend re-education camps and did hard labour in the fields for six years.
In 1981, he was resident playwright at Beijing People's Art Theatre, but his satirical plays such as Bus Stop (Chezhan) caused him to be blacklisted by the Chinese government.
Frustrated with censorship and political oppression, he left China in 1987 to settle in Paris, where he published a steady stream of short stories, novels and plays.
His seminal work, Soul Mountain (Lingshan), was completed in 1989, and is a meandering 81-chapter epic portraying an individual's search for roots, inner peace and liberty. The Chinese government denounced it as 'very, very average' but it received warm reviews abroad.
After the suppression of the Tiananmen Square demonstrations in June 1989, he renounced his membership in the Chinese Communist Party. His books were then banned in China.
On what drives his creative impulse through the ups and downs, he says: 'I faced a lot of oppression in China, but the only way to determine your own value as an artist is to create. Not through speeches or political action, but to say something using art.'
But he takes pains to distance himself from his experiences in China.
He says: 'The past seems so far away. I consider myself having three lives. The first is in China, where I encountered difficulties at every turn. The second life is in the West, where I consider myself a global citizen. That ended after winning the Nobel Prize, when I faced a lot of stress and fell sick.
'The third life is now, after I've risen from the shadow of death. That's why I treasure it. China seems like a completely different realm from now.
'I don't think about the past. I don't want to.'
Besides, the workaholic has more urgent things to think about.
Since June, he has been working relentlessly on a book of essays, On Creating, which tackles the themes of his works and 'the relationship between the intellectual and society in the 21st century'.
He figures that 'if anyone were to do a summation of my work I might as well do it myself'.
Other issues keep him busy.
He says: 'We are in the 21st century. We are facing new questions and crises, such as environment issues and global warming. Those old questions of the 20th century, of revolution and aesthetics, they are over.'
After the interview, he gamely autographs a catalogue and poses for pictures before doing another interview, one of many during his packed schedule.
He says: 'With so much to do, what is there to reminisce about? People ask why I don't write my own memoirs. I never even think of it.'
chiahta@sph.com.sg
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