Television broadcast regular flashbacks of the life of the former People’s Action Party (PAP) titan. Newspapers were full of accolades from political leaders.

Their bafflement was understandable. For two decades since the former president and trade union leader left for a life in exile in Canada, the political leadership and, of course, the Singapore media, had rarely mentioned his name.

Those born after 1980 had grown up with little or no knowledge of the man who once ranked alongside historical figures like Lee Kuan Yew, Goh Keng Swee and Sinnathamby Rajaratnam.

It was as though Nair’s achievements never existed until his death.

Anyway, many Singaporeans are not very informed about their country’s contemporary history. Before he became Prime Minister, Lee Hsien Loong said he was shocked when he was told of a Singaporean graduate telling an American that the republic was never a part of Malaysia.

That was blamed on the education system that emphasised on science and math.

Nair’s death served a purpose albeit not a very palatable one for the ruling party. Despite its overwhelming control of Singapore, it, too, like political parties in other countries, has its own share of internal squabbles.

In 1981, Nair was appointed to the ceremonial post of president. Within three years, he ran afoul of the then PM and suddenly resigned.

He became Kuan Yew’s bitter critic, accusing him of creating a repressive regime and an elitist who linked genetics with intelligence that demeaned the republic’s Indian and Malay minorities.

Kuan Yew said he left to get treatment for alcoholism and released information that was not flattering to his one-time comrade.

Nair said he was forced to resign because of his regular questioning of Kuan Yew’s policies.

A source told a foreign correspondent that he began drinking heavily because “he felt trapped and frustrated” as president. “But Nair was also seen by Lee as a potential source of opposition to his rule,” said the source close to him.

He is, of course, not the only Kuan Yew colleague to fall out with the PAP.

Another was the late Ong Teng Cheong, who was elected president with special powers, and who clashed with the Cabinet over interpretation of these powers.

He was bypassed for a second term. His death also raised a wave of public adulation for standing firm on his principles.

Then there was former PAP chairman Dr Toh Chin Chye, who left in 1988 under a cloud following disagreements with some of Kuan Yew’s authoritarian policies.

He had opposed the 70s population control and abortion, saying the official prediction of zero growth by 2030, if it adhered to a two-child policy, was too optimistic.

It failed to consider the impact of political policies on behavioural patterns, he said. Government policies, including abortion, had cost Singapore at least 250,000 babies.

Toh also opposed government’s role in business. Merely listing government companies on the stock market was not privatisation. “It means washing its hands off business and ceasing to compete with the private sector,” he said.

During his final years, he had advocated allowing Singaporeans a greater say on how the state should be run.

Not long ago, I had a chance meeting with Toh, who was worried about the apathetic, materialistic generation the government had raised. He said, “They are too fearful to speak out even over the most routine disagreement. How can ideas flow? How can you have a great country?”

Kuan Yew had prevailed over most of the clashes of ideas within the PAP whenever they took place and generally Singapore has emerged the better for it. The party had survived them by keeping them within the confines of the party headquarters.

Leadership disagreements were rarely given an airing in the media as they did elsewhere. When they happened, the newspapers generally ignored the views of the dissenters.

In the past, whenever Kuan Yew removed a colleague, it was accepted as wisdom and done in the national interest.

Today, the public is less accepting.

One writer, “matmati”, found this out when he lashed out at former Workers’ Party leader J.B. Jeyaretnam, a bankrupt who was sued by the government.

When he saw Jeyaretnam selling his books at City Hall, the writer said: “He looks like a mentally deranged, dishevelled hair, glassy-eyed, sick, aged orang utan. I believe he is losing it rapidly and will be completely senile in one or two years’ time.”

Instead of support, he drew strong public condemnation, including from people who say they are PAP voters.

Scrobal said, “You seem to get upset and emotional about these things. Get a grip. Only a few have the gall and the gumption to take on the monolith and we should be grateful for that.”

Another writer, johnboy_sg said: “That is a very tasteless comment. He was willing to take on the whole PAP monolith because he believed it would lead to a better Singapore. It ruined him and yet I feel a great respect for him.”

These public sentiments concerning PAP dissenters like Nair, Ong Teng Cheong and JB Jeyaretnam show how politics is shifting in the minds of the new generation.

They show that, after ruling independent Singapore for 40 years, the PAP will find that governing in the new era isn’t easy at all.

o Seah Chiang Nee is a veteran journalist and editor of the information website littlespeck.com

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