But, analysts say, the big question now is whether any substantive changes will be seen following Saturday’s announcement that 87-year-old Lee Kuan Yew and his longtime right-hand man, Goh Chok Tong, were stepping down from their Cabinet positions.
“It’s not clear whether policy changes will be merely cosmetic in terms of communication, or whether more meaningful changes in direction are likely,” said Wei Zheng Kit, an analyst with Citigroup in Singapore.
At the very least, the government has promised a shift in tone away from Lee’s my-way-or-the-highway attitude that has helped make Singapore one of the world’s wealthiest — and most tightly controlled — countries.
His departure after more than five decades comes in the aftermath of a disappointing May 7 election result that represented a major shift for a country where Lee, his son who is now prime minister, and the 69-year-old Goh, are referred to as “the father, the son and the holy Goh.” Lee became prime minister in 1959 and saw the country through self-rule under the British, a two-year federation with Malaysia and finally independence in 1965. He remained in office until 1990, overseeing a period of rapid development that turned Singapore from a sleepy port city into to a modern, virtually corruption-free society that remains a darling of foreign investors.
Goh was prime minister until 2004, when the baton passed to Lee’s son, Hsien Loong. Through it all, though, the elder Lee, who tolerated little criticism, was considered by many Singaporeans to be the real power.
His ruling People’s Action Party controlled every seat in parliament until 1981 and in some elections, opposition parties have failed to even contest a majority of seats.
In the latest election, the opposition increased its number of seats from two to six. The PAP’s tally of 81 out of 87 seats in Parliament may be considered a landslide in any election, but it is the drop in its percentage of votes that has come as a wake up call.
The PAP won 75 percent of votes in 2001, 67 percent in 2006 and 60 percent in May, the lowest since 1965. It was a shocking result for the PAP, which was being told that 40 percent of voters are dissatisfied with it.
Lee began the campaign warning voters they would “repent” if they chose opposition candidates. The backlash from those comments put PAP leaders on the defensive, and some of them acknowledged the government is sometimes perceived as arrogant.
Days ahead of the vote, the younger Lee gave a rare public apology for government mistakes and sought to distance himself from some of his father’s more aggressive rhetoric.
He said after the election that the government would change its “style and approach.” “There’s a huge adjustment going on in the PAP, and this is just the beginning,” said Chua Beng Huat, a sociologist at National University of Singapore. “They have to be much more accountable to the public. The last election was really an expression of an accumulated sense of powerlessness.” Still, it’s unclear to what extent Lee and Goh will be sidelined from power. The two are still members of parliament and Lee remains chairman of the country’s sovereign wealth fund, Government of Singapore Investment Corp., while Goh is central bank chairman.
Analysts said they will be watching closely to see if PAP leaders ease strict speech and assembly laws and work with emerging opposition figures. Opposition rallies earlier this month of more than 40,000 people were the first tangible signs of the depth of voter discontent, but such outdoor gatherings are only allowed during the official campaign period, which is usually about nine days every five years.
Some expect the government to shift from its “growth at all costs” economic model and invest more in social programs and tax relief for middle-income and poorer Singaporeans. Many say the well-educated electorate has increasingly bristled at the authoritarian aspects of the government — and particularly the elder Lee’s blunt style.
“Singapore is moving toward more normal politics,” said Gillian Koh, a senior research fellow at Singapore’s Institute of Policy Studies. “It can’t be ‘sit down and shut up because you don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Singaporeans want a strong, effective government, but they want checks and balances too.” It’s not yet clear if Hsien Loong is prepared to give them that. Though he has held several senior government positions, the 59-year-old has until now toiled largely in the shadow of his legendary father in the eyes of Singaporeans and has mostly expressed a similar vision for Singapore as his dad.
Still, the elder Lee’s diminished role should allow opposition parties more breathing space.
Lee has long been dead-set against allowing anything more than a token opposition in Singapore, warning factions would weaken the government, scare off investors and undermine prosperity. From the 1960s to 1980s, he imprisoned suspected communists without trial for years and later bankrupted opposition figures with defamation lawsuits.
“I did some sharp and hard things to get things right,” Lee said in his 2011 book Hard Truths. “Why should we not demolish them (opposition parties) before they get started?” The electorate has long allowed the PAP that leeway, as it made good on delivering jobs, housing and education, made Singapore synonymous with efficient, corruption-free bureaucracy and helped boost gross domestic product per capita to $43,867 last year from $428 in 1960.
“There is a sense that Lee has achieved amazing things in Singapore,” said Benjamin Reilly, a political scientist at Australian National University. “Quite possibly Singapore would not be the success it is without him, not just the PAP, but him.” But the Lees and the PAP have become victims somewhat of their own success. A wealthier and more widely traveled population of 5 million finds it harder to except Lee’s argument that without PAP dominance and strict controls on freedoms, Singapore would be ruined.
The annual salaries of Lee and Goh of more than 2 million Singapore dollars ($1.6 million) also came to symbolize for poorer Singaporeans an out-of-touch government that couldn’t relate to struggling with soaring housing costs and stagnant wages.
“I thank Lee Kuan Yew for his service,” said Tan Hui Ching, a 42-year-old accountant. “But it’s time for him to let go.” 180549 may 11GMT
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Mexico town stands up to drug gangs with barricade
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AP Photo MXMT107, MXMT101, MXMT102, MXMT103, MXMT104, MXMT105, MXMT106, MXMT108, MXMT110 By GUSTAVO RUIZ AND ALEXANDRA OLSON= Associated Press= CHERAN, Mexico: Masked and wielding rifles, the men of this mountain town stand guard at blockades of tires and sandbags to stop illegal loggers backed by drug traffickers. Their defiance isn’t just about defending their way of life; it’s one of the first major challenges to the reign of terror unleashed by Mexico’s drug cartels.
The indigenous Purepecha people of this town surrounded by mountains of pine forests and neat farmland took security into their own hands last month after loggers, who residents say are backed by cartel henchmen and local police, killed two residents and wounded several others.
“There is no fear here,” said one young man, defiantly peering out between a red handkerchief pulled up to his dark eyes and a camouflage baseball cap riding low over his brow. “Here we are fighting a David-and-Goliath battle because we are standing up to organized crime, which is no small adversary.” Nearly all residents in the town of 16,000 in the southwestern state of Michoacan spoke to reporters on condition of anonymity because of safety concerns.
Such revolts have occurred frequently in indigenous communities in Mexico where locals have demanded more autonomy, accusing the government of neglect and corruption. Since the Zapatista rebellion of the 1990s, many towns in Chiapas remain near-autonomous entities with their own security rules.
The Cheran rebellion is one of the few examples of a town standing up to drug cartels since President Felipe Calderon launched his crackdown on organized crime in late 2006, sparking a national wave of violence that has killed at least 35,000 people. Most Mexicans are too frightened to openly fight back against gangs that have terrorized the country with beheadings and massacres. Some towns in northern Mexico have emptied as cartels move in.
The rebellion in Cheran caught the attention of the federal government, which deployed troops and federal police last week to patrol the outskirts of the town.
Illegal loggers have for years cut down thousands of acres (hectares) of trees that the Purepecha depend on for log cabins, traditional medicine and resin collection. Less than two years ago, the loggers started showing up with caravans of armed men that the townspeople believe belong to La Familia, a drug cartel based in Michoacan.
“La Familia has the heaviest presence in the zone.
Everything indicates that it’s them because they have the biggest presence, but we can’t say for sure,” said David Pena, a lawyer who has been representing the community in negotiations for protection with the federal government.
Disputes over communal woods — between those who want to log indiscriminately and those who subsist on forest products — has long been a source of conflict in southwestern Mexico. The federal government has stepped up efforts against deforestation, conducting raids and shutting down illegal sawmills.
But rogue loggers have become more violent as they align themselves with drug cartels, said Rupert Knox, a Mexico researcher at London-based Amnesty International, which has investigated the crisis in Cheran.
“Illegal logging has gone hand-in-glove with criminal gangs. They have moved into that sphere and controlled it with extreme brutality and corruption of local officials,” Knox said.
The animosity came to a head in Cheran when residents captured five illegal loggers on April 15 as their truck attempted to smuggle out illegally harvested wood.
Two hours later, a convoy of armed men rumbled into the town to free the detained loggers, accompanied by local police, according to Pena and Amnesty International. One Cheran man was shot in the head and remains in a coma. But the townspeople, through force of numbers, managed to drive out the gunmen.
In apparent reprisal, loggers shot and killed two Cheran men and wounded four others who were patrolling the woods on April 27.
Angry Cheran residents stormed the local police headquarters, seizing 18 guns. They swiftly barricaded the town, piling sandbags and tires beneath plastic tents at several checkpoints along the main road. Young men with rifles keep track of residents venturing out and question anyone trying to get in.
“We want peace and security,” reads a banner hanging over a pile of logs at one blockade.
Classes have been suspended at the town’s more than 20 schools, which draws students from neighboring communities because both Spanish and the Purepecha language are taught.
Instead, young boys hang out at the barricades, covering their faces with handkerchiefs and pretending to patrol with plastic toy guns.
“Everything is paralyzed out of fear that this gang might attack the children,” said a soft-spoken man wearing a white bandanna and a black wool cap at a checkpoint.
The municipal police dissolved itself. Mayor Roberto Bautista Chapina reported the guns stolen but has otherwise stayed out of the dispute, trying not to inflame tensions.
He said the Cheran men attacked the police chief and grabbed his gun.
Community leaders and Interior Department representatives met Tuesday in the state capital of Morelia and agreed on a long-term security plan, Pena said. The government promised to set up two bases outside the town for army troops and federal and state police, who will patrol the hills and forests and meet weekly with Cheran leaders. Residents will be allowed to keep protecting the town on their own.
The illegal logging has affected 80 percent of Cheran’s 44,500 acres (18,000 hectares) of forest, Pena said. In some places, that means patches of trees have been cut down; in others, whole woods have disappeared.
Already, Cheran had struggled to maintain its way of life.
More than 40 percent of its residents have immigrated to the United States over the years, according to the government. Remittances have replaced farming and resin sales as Cheran’s main source of income.
Still, customs are fiercely guarded. Many people live in log cabins topped by red-tiled roofs. The women maintain the traditional dress of a wrapped cotton skirt and brightly colored satin blouse.
Cheran’s men say the barricades won’t come down until they overcome this latest threat to their traditions.
“This fight is not for a month or a year. It’s for life,” said the soft-spoken man in the white bandanna.
“We don’t believe there will be a quick solution.” He hopes other communities will be inspired to fight back against organized crime.
“We think it’s difficult but not impossible,” he said.
“If they can start with Cheran, cutting down the forests, they will continue with other communities. And if the communities don’t organize, in the end, they will destroy everything that for us is life.”
