Lee Kuan Yew: Strong man in small country

Lee Kuan Yew was a man “too big” for Singapore and “too small” for the world. Under his enigmatic repute as an authoritarian leader, he would turn this tip of a tadpole on the Malayan peninsula into a rare social and political model for states that became envious of its economic prosperity.

The comparisons that were drawn may have been a useful heuristic device but they were dangerous, not least unfair: first, on account of the brilliance and gravitas of Lee Kuan Yew; second, because of Singapore’s geography; and finally, because of the unique historical conditions in which the nation was fitted and formed.

But its story was seductive, so the allusions to the success of this city-state and its founding prime minister by scholars and statesmen kept on coming: What on earth was the secret?

A Cambridge-trained lawyer (earning him a double first with distinction) and a natural fighter, Mr. Lee began his leadership in a hostile and precarious environment. Southeast Asia had barely recovered from the pillages of the Pacific War and was overwhelmed by nationalist movements and the destabilizing effects of communist insurgency. The withdrawal of European imperial authority created a power vacuum and new alliances had to be formed in order to fasten as well as to expand old borders.

Singapore’s ideal postcolonial settlement was to join the Federation of Malaysia, which included Malaya, Sarawak and Sabah. But when Tunku Abdul Rahman caught wind of the loftier ambitions of Mr. Lee’s People’s Action Party (PAP) to unite in opposition against the ruling Alliance at the federal level, Singapore was expelled.

This self-confessed “moment of anguish” drove Mr. Lee to build Singapore on his own terms. The year was 1965.

He would subsequently send his first foreign minister, Sinnathamby Rajaratnam, to request that Singapore be one of the five original states that would establish Asean in 1967. Among his peers of that era—Tunku Abdul Rahman of Malaysia, Suharto of Indonesia, Thanom Kitticachorn of Thailand and Ferdinand Marcos of the Philippines—Mr. Lee would be one of the longest to stay in power (1959-1990) and would stay on as a minister-mentor feared and loved by his people.

Singapore was a “tropical slum” in the 1960s—poor, rundown and bereft of natural resources. But Mr. Lee micromanaged his house and virtually tended his lawn to beauty and perfection.

From his policies on regulated social housing, matchmaking and childbirth rates, the careful selection and execution of official languages in order to enhance cohesion in this multiethnic society (of which 74 percent are Chinese, 13 percent Malays and 9 percent Indians), the prohibition of chewing gum in open spaces, to the peremptory flush of public toilets, the end-result is a feat of social engineering and control. There is no satire in this; it was for him, and in his own words, simply the only way to transform Singapore from “a fishing village of 150 souls” into a desirable spotless metropolis.

But the measures Mr. Lee practiced—stifling political dissent, locking up his opponents and muzzling the media—were scorned, not least by the West, whose multinational companies would ironically seek stability and profit in this same corruption-free society.

Why was there such love and hate? It was because Mr. Lee was frank about the belief that leadership is as much a question of embracing values as getting things done right. The Lee-Singapore formula, it seems to me, was to keep an even keel between the principles of idealism and pragmatism.

And to stay the course, an acute sense of realism anchored his vision. Mr. Lee focused on what the world did not have to be able to develop the only two main resources that his country did have: a naturally deep harbor and the limitless potential of a highly skilled and technical workforce. The government lured and coopted the best and brightest to scale the ladders of its meritocratic administration and, by virtue of the country’s size, provided fiscal advantages (i.e., because of low structural overhead costs) for businesses wanting to put up shop.

Singapore has emerged as a crossbreed between a global financial center and a key international shipping hub.

Mr. Lee’s spin on the Asian values debate has to be read, therefore, with greater nuance. Whether it was to perpetuate his vaunted iron fist or to rally his constituency into a social contract that gave primacy to communal over individual ends remains in ambiguity. It is clear, however, that tradeoffs had to be made on the basis of social choices.

This generation’s new leaders have an exciting opportunity before them—to challenge notions of political accountability, to reassess Singapore’s trade and developmental role in Asean, and to spur innovation among the young in society—possibly on new forms of participatory democracy. It is the kind of match that Mr. Lee would have relished.

Whether his social experiment becomes a matrix for political plurality and social creativity or whether it reverts Singapore to its unhappy state will only now pass through the crucible. Either way, Mr. Lee wins, because he finally rests in the legacy that it was he who first made Singapore, incredibly, big for the world.

Kevin H.R. Villanueva, PhD (kevinhrvillanueva@hotmail.com), is research director at the HZB School of International Diplomacy at the Philippine Women’s University and founding director of the recently formed national-regional thinktank on Asean affairs called Arise (Asean Research Institute for Strategic Studies and Enterprise).