Uniquely Singapore.

"Uniquely Singapore" is an advertising slogan in current usage in Singapore to encapsulate all that distinguishes Singapore from all other small bits of land, worldwide (distinguished in ways apart from being small, I suppose).

In some ways, Singapore is unique. It is unique in the extent of its conformity, in some respects, for instance. So, in that manner, Singapore is unique to the extent that it is not unique. However, Singapore has its merits: it is easy and convenient to live here. Most consumer goods and services are readily available, though perhaps, now, not at ideal prices. Public infrastructure is well done: the libraries are particularly good, for instance. Then there is the crime rate which, in our experience is not as low as proclaimed (we have been stolen from three times in six years), but is safer than most other places, in terms of violent crime, at least, which is something worth having.

Yet there are other matters which are "uniquely Singapore" (yes, I know it should read "uniquely Singaporean" - but I was not the ungrammatical advertising writer who wrote it), which are not so happy.

Today, I encountered one "Uniquely Singapore" incident. I was approaching the lift below my place of work as a Singaporean woman approached the same lift from the opposite direction. She was a thickset woman of indeterminate race, perhaps a mix of Chinese and something else, maybe Malay. It was difficult to say, but she didn't clearly fit any racial category, without doubt. She was mature in years and body, but, as we shall see, not in attitude.

We both vectored in on the opening lift door, she closer than me. She couldn't fail to have seen me, since we faced each other. She got in the door first, turned around - and pushed the button to close the door in my face. The door duly obeyed and I was left staring at a steel door. The oddest thing about the moment is that she appeared to be smiling, as the door closed on me and she looked out on me standing there.

"Uniquely Singapore", I thought, as I waited for the next lift. Only in Singapore do people regularly snub their fellow human beings in such ways. It would have cost her perhaps one or two seconds of her life, to let me into the lift, too...but that was too high a price to pay for courtesy.

Now, I must say that not all Singaporeans are like this. Others are of the opposite kind: they OPEN doors that have closed, on seeing that they have closed the door on someone. I met one such in the same lift only a few days before. I thanked her for opening the door for me - and she smiled a different kind of smile to the one that had smiled today.

Yet, the sad truth is, that door closers are more common, in Singapore, than door openers. Those who are not considerate of others, outnumber those who are. It makes, sometimes, for unpleasant moments, when one's fellow human beings are rude, simply because they either enjoy being rude or think that it is their God given right to be so.

This lack of courtesy is, of course, something that foreigners note. It grates upon the sensibilities of those who have come from more courteous cultures (of which there are many...for instance the entire developed world, for a start). I don't think that the powers-that-be realize the price that Singapore pays, in terms of its reputation and the impression it makes on others, for this common lack of courtesy that infects its citizens. I say "infect" deliberately, for poor, inconsiderate behaviour of this kind is rather like a disease of the spirit. It is also infectious because if people treat each other ill, they tend to begin to treat others as they have been treated - and, before long, lack of courtesy and consideration are the common habit of all.

If I have closed the door upon someone I did not see, I press the button to open it. Sometimes, this irritates my fellow lift passengers, but I do it, because while I might lose a couple of seconds, I am probably saving the other person a minute. It is, therefore, on average a time saver. If all did this, WE WOULD ALL SAVE TIME.

Let's make courtesy and consideration for others a "Uniquely Singapore" characteristic. We can all contribute to it. For a start, we can hold the lift door open for others. If all did that, we would all be better off. Consider my thought, the next time you get in a lift.

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, a scientific child prodigy, aged eight years and seven months, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, five years exactly, and Tiarnan, twenty-eight months, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html I also write of gifted education, IQ, intelligence, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, College, University, Chemistry, Science, genetics, left-handedness, precocity, child prodigy, child genius, baby genius, adult genius, savant, wunderkind, wonderkind, genio, гений ребенок prodigy, genie, μεγαλοφυία θαύμα παιδιών, bambino, kind.

We are the founders of Genghis Can, a copywriting, editing and proofreading agency, that handles all kinds of work, including technical and scientific material. If you need such services, or know someone who does, please go to: http://www.genghiscan.com/ Thanks.

This blog is copyright Valentine Cawley. Unauthorized duplication prohibited. Use Only with Permission. Thank you.)

A misplaced sense of entitlement.

Courtesy is a two-way thing - but, oddly, many people seem to think of it as one way only: from others, to them.

Last week, I sat on the bus. When I got on, there were still more seats than people, so I sat on the outside of a double seat, with the inner seat left empty (since I don't like to be trapped inside, when I need to leave).

A few stops later, there were more people than seats, so I rose from my seat, and asked all those standing nearby if they would like to sit down. No-one did. Some shook their heads, others just didn't answer me. So I sat down again.

A few stops later, another group of people got on. A Caucasian woman, whose hair was dyed blonde and whose years were a handful more than mine, spoke in an Australian accent: "Can I sit in there?"

"Yes, of course." I answered, and rose to let her in.

She sat in silence. She didn't thank me.

Unperturbed I confided: "I did ask everyone nearby if they wanted to sit, but no-one did."

She looked out of the window, as if I did not exist.

I shut up.

I went into a reverie, to pass the time and find interest in my thoughts.

After a while, a voice penetrated my thoughts: "Would anyone like to give me a seat?"

The voice was strident, insistent and, again, that of an Australian woman.

She spoke awfully near me, so I looked up. There was a dark-haired Australian woman in her thirties looking down on me. At first, I wondered why she did so, but then I saw her bump: she was pregnant.

I was being asked to give up my seat. I looked briefly at the Australian woman next to me, to whom I had already given a seat. She looked away and out of the window, as if I didn't exist.

"Yes, of course." I said - and rose to let her in.

This new, pregnant Australian woman sat in silence. She didn't thank me, either.

Thus, I stood, without a seat, in the aisle, which was quite an accomplishment since ten minutes before I had had two seats all to myself.

Neither woman looked at me. They behaved as if I didn't exist.

I appraised these Australian women, as if for clues as to their surprising rudeness. Both of them expected courtesy from others - indeed, DEMANDED it - but neither of them was prepared to be courteous to others, in response. Both had secured a seat from me - yet neither had thanked me for doing so. I thought this more than a little rude. It seemed ignorant, too.

I still had the tone of voice of the pregnant woman echoing in my mind: it was such a demanding voice, a voice that said: "It is my RIGHT to have a seat! Now MOVE!" The odd thing is, she had never considered that other people have feelings and they, too, are worthy of respect.

Looking back on it, I think that neither Australian woman deserved a seat. The proper response to them, had I had full knowledge of their characters would have been to have said: "No!". I should then have done as they had done: look out of the window as if they did not exist.

Yet, I had not known. I gave both of them the common level of courtesy and helpfulness I give to all people. That is my way. Yet, sometimes, it seems the wrong thing to do - because sometimes that courtesy is punished by those who receive it. I rather wish I had full knowledge of people so I would know to whom to show respect and courtesy and whom to snub.

I learnt something from the encounter, though. I had experienced discourtesy from Singaporeans on many occasions - but this was my first encounter with Australian rudeness. Perhaps discourtesy is not just a local problem, then, but is fast becoming a global one. Either that, or these two ladies have adopted ways that fit in around here, a little too well.

If I had been that pregnant woman, I would have begun my request with a polite: "Excuse me..." and adopted a gentle, enquiring tone, rather than the demanding one that had been hers.

I know that, in general, pregnant women should be given a seat because the extra burden of the baby places a strain on their backs...however, I have just had a funny thought: does a sixty kilo pregnant woman (as I adjudged her to be), find greater difficulty standing for long periods than a 106 kg man (me)? I have nearly double the weight she needs to support, so there could be an argument there that the greater strain would be my own...

I raise the matter above in jest - but it does have a serious point: there may be other people with just as much, or perhaps, more need for a seat than even a pregnant woman. In this light, any pregnant woman should at least say "Thank you." when someone provides them with a seat. After all, someone has elected to give up their own comfort to make them more comfortable.

As for the Australian women: they have succeeded in lowering my expectations of what Australia might be like to visit (I have yet to go). I wonder if they are all as rude, there, as these two were to me?

Share your experiences please.

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, a scientific child prodigy, aged eight years and seven months, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, five years exactly, and Tiarnan, twenty-eight months, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html I also write of gifted education, IQ, intelligence, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, College, University, Chemistry, Science, genetics, left-handedness, precocity, child prodigy, child genius, baby genius, adult genius, savant, wunderkind, wonderkind, genio, гений ребенок prodigy, genie, μεγαλοφυία θαύμα παιδιών, bambino, kind.

We are the founders of Genghis Can, a copywriting, editing and proofreading agency, that handles all kinds of work, including technical and scientific material. If you need such services, or know someone who does, please go to: http://www.genghiscan.com/ Thanks.)

Back to School: Ainan's welcome.

Yesterday, Ainan went back to school, after resting a few days at home, owing to his broken arm. His welcome was instructive for what it said about the nature of the various people.

His school friends were very curious about his arm. He was assailed by questions all around of what had happened to him. All were keen to know every detail. That is a natural reaction - and one that showed that, in their childish way, they cared about Ainan and what had obviously befallen him.

The reactions of his teachers were altogether different but even more revealing. Not ONE teacher in his school enquired after his arm. Not ONE showed any interest in learning what had happened to him, or how he was. Incredibly, they had another concern: his hair. Three teachers, on different occasions, approached him, not with the intent to sympathize or enquire after his health - but to order him to do one thing: "Cut your hair, it is too long!", they said, as if each was reading from the same script. Perhaps they were, the script called MOE "teacher" training 101, "How to oppress the little people and make a big deal out of nothing, on a daily basis."

My wife and I were both somewhat surprised at the priorities of the teachers concerned. Part of the teacher's role in life - and an important part - is the physical and emotional well-being of their student charges. A teacher who had those priorities right would, in every instance, first enquire about Ainan's broken arm. They would not ever consider the state of his hair. It amazes me, in particular, that the concern for the hair should have been the common concern of all three teachers who spoke to him - and that not one did the human thing of enquiring after his arm. Their behaviour proves that these teachers do not understand what their priority as teachers should be: the well-being of their students.

For a hot country, Singapore can be remarkably cold at times.

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, a scientific child prodigy, aged eight years and seven months, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, five years exactly, and Tiarnan, twenty-eight months, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html I also write of gifted education, IQ, intelligence, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, College, University, Chemistry, Science, genetics, left-handedness, precocity, child prodigy, child genius, baby genius, adult genius, savant, wunderkind, wonderkind, genio, гений ребенок prodigy, genie, μεγαλοφυία θαύμα παιδιών, bambino, kind.

We are the founders of Genghis Can, a copywriting, editing and proofreading agency, that handles all kinds of work, including technical and scientific material. If you need such services, or know someone who does, please go to: http://www.genghiscan.com/ Thanks.)