The Singapore Story: Memoirs of Lee Kuan Yew (31 page)

And I was under pressure. The chief minister had called for an emergency meeting of the Assembly for 16 May, to capitalise on the revulsion of public feeling against the unions, isolate and turn the heat on the PAP, and make the non-communists in the party split from the communists. This time the chief secretary, Bill Goode, led the attack. He made a powerful speech, recounting what had taken place factually and effectively. He deplored the loss of life, praised the police and condemned the evil men who had exploited the workers and the students, and the failure of the manipulated Chinese newspapers to give any support to the side of law and order. All efforts to promote a settlement were frustrated by people who, Goode said, “clearly do not want grievances to be removed but are out to maintain unrest and are out to exploit the genuine grievances of decent workers for their own evil ends”.

He then rounded on me.

“In their lust for power … the People’s Action Party and their covert communist supporters and backseat drivers wanted violence and bloodshed and industrial unrest. … If the honourable Member believes in orderly progress to democratic self-government, then he must be against communism; and if he is, let him say so loud and
clear, with no quibble and no clever sophistry. He has deplored violence after hell was let loose and men were killed. … I ask him: What did he do to prevent violence before it happened? Is his conscience clear? Or did he lose control to the Member for Bukit Timah (Lim Chin Siong) who sits behind him and drives the party?”

He was followed by John Ede, the expatriate who had won Tanglin for the Progressives. This made my task easier. I rose immediately after Ede to say I was glad it was to two Englishmen that I had to reply. Had it been Marshall,

“he would have weighed his words with more care, with more circumspection, and with more understanding of the difficulties and the dangers of the situation; with more understanding of the hopes, fears and aspirations of people. …

“We have not come here as prisoners to be accused, or as prisoners who must discharge the burden of their guilt. We have come here as representatives of the people, and we shall speak as such.”

(I reiterated the stand of the PAP.) “To destroy the colonial system by methods of non-violence. We abjure violence. … We are not prepared to fight, perpetuate or prolong the colonial system. But give us our rights and we will fight the communists or any others who threaten the existence of an independent and democratic non-communist Malaya.”

Because I had praised him, Marshall again wobbled when he replied, confusing his followers, and saved the PAP from total discredit by saying:

“If the PAP, which consists of responsible, decent, honest men many of them, if they would purge themselves of the communists and fellow travellers that they know they have – if they would face their own responsibility, they could be the organisation that they hope to be that would one day lead this country to win its independence.”

Marshall did not know that by his speeches and, worse, by his eagerness to settle and avoid conflict, he had opened Pandora’s box. Every worker in Singapore, every leader and every communist cadre knew they had a government they could use for their own purposes, to corner the employers, win benefits, and take over management’s prerogatives.

Already their successes were paying off. By August 1955, membership of the Singapore Factory and Shop Workers’ Union (SFSWU) had swollen to 23,000, most of them young Chinese. Meanwhile, its English-educated associates, including Nair, Woodhull and James Puthucheary, were helping the Chinese-educated to demolish the British colonial system. Their tactics were both to infiltrate existing unions and to form new ones. They had the Singapore Chinese Middle School Students’ Union as a
de facto
affiliate, and their weapon was the sympathy strike. For any single issue in any single company, they would threaten to stop the whole works.

As the communists had done in China, this was to be a united front of workers, students and peasants (such as there were in Singapore) to foment unrest and convert labour disputes into political issues, increase class and racial hatred (of the white man) and breed contempt for authority. Once the SFSWU had become an octopus-like conglomerate trade union, with its membership of Chinese-speaking workers, Lim Chin Siong and Fong targeted the Singapore Harbour Board Staff Association, the Naval Base Labour Union and the City Council Labour Union – non-communist organisations whose Indian, Malay and English-speaking Chinese were prepared to go along with the SFSWU. They realised they could make use of the militancy of the Chinese unions and the threat of sympathy strikes to further their own demands.

Sir Robert Black also recognised that the situation had changed for the worse. On 26 September he wrote to Lennox-Boyd:

“During the elections, … extravagant speeches were made attacking the government. … PAP meetings were also packed with organised labour and Chinese students; mass feelings were skilfully roused. All this led to a loss of respect for constituted authority, and increased the prestige of those who … were openly challenging the government.”

Singapore was in the grip of a strike fest – in the nine months between 7 April and December 1955, there were 260 stoppages. This militancy, however, was to work to my advantage.

On 19 June 1955, the City Council Labour Union threatened to walk out over demands for back pay they had made the previous year. The City Council threatened to serve lock-out notices, and to hire contractors to take over essential services if union workers stayed away. Talks failed to settle the dispute and the strike began on 17 August.

Three days later, however, the union asked me to be their legal adviser. The members were mainly Indian daily-rated workers, the majority engaged in city cleansing and garbage collection. It was a big union of several thousands, the leader a shrewd, squint-eyed, uneducated Indian called Suppiah. There had already been some ugly incidents in which they had resorted to violence. I replied that I would be proud to act for them, but stipulated that the strike must be carried out in a peaceful way. They agreed, and the talks became constructive.

The governor reported on 8 September to Lennox-Boyd:

“At one time there were disquieting instances of rowdyism on a familiar pattern, but they ceased suddenly after a few days. Whether Lee Kuan Yew should be given any credit for this is not certain, but it is probably the case.” (We had reached agreement on 7 September.) “Contrary to expectations … the strike did not break down and the union has won substantial concessions. … There are two main reasons for this outcome. One is the weakness of the City Council … and the other is the intervention of Lee Kuan Yew, the secretary
of People’s Action Party, as legal adviser to the union. His intervention was in fact useful to both sides and he has probably improved his personal position as a result of the settlement.”

My way of constitutional opposition, working within the law, was in marked contrast to that of the communists, and I got results. But without the communists going beyond the law and using violence, my methods would not have been effective. It was the less unpleasant option I offered that made them acceptable to the British. Just as in Malaya, had there been no terrorism to present the British with the humiliating prospect of surrendering to the communists, the Tunku would never have won independence simply by addressing larger and larger gatherings of Malays in the villages. It was the disagreeable alternative the communists posed that made constitutional methods of gentle erosion of colonial authority effective for the nationalists and acceptable to the colonialists. In pre-war India, where there was no communist threat, constitutional methods of passive resistance took decades to work.

While the trade unions continued to simmer away and grow in strength, Marshall stirred up one political crisis after another. He had a knack for creating them. In the midst of all the industrial unrest and agitation, he clashed with Sir Robert Black over his demand for the creation of four junior ministers, and when the governor offered only two, decided to make the dispute public. He claimed that the governor had no right to ignore the chief minister’s advice, and threatened to resign if he refused to consult him before taking any action. He also wanted Singapore to be given complete self-government. Emergency Regulations had expired on 21 July, but the governor had extended them for a further three months, subject to adoption by the Assembly at its next meeting: Marshall’s price for the extension was that the British grant Singapore self-government “at the earliest possible moment”.

The proceedings of that Assembly meeting on 22 July were typical of the silly and irresponsible manner in which the political parties manoeuvred. In putting the motion for self-government, Marshall explained that this was a constitutional matter of principle. At the end of his diatribe against the governor and colonialism, he turned to me – the Member for Tanjong Pagar who “has plagued me so consistently and so vociferously in the past” but is “virtually the leader of the opposition in the eyes of the public” – and asked me to second his motion. He thus negated the charge made barely two months before, on 26 April, by Goode, who had often called the PAP a vehicle for the communists and their willing tool. I certainly could not refuse the honour of seconding the motion!

The Assembly adjourned on 22 July. When it reassembled three days later, a Progressive Party member, Lim Koon Teck, tried to outflank both Marshall and me. “Let us … ask for a full transfer of power so that we, and we alone, shall be responsible for our own affairs and destiny and the British government need no longer be answerable to us,” he proposed, and thereupon moved an amendment to substitute “independence” for “self-government”. In other words, he wanted “independence” immediately. The Progressives had always represented moderation, the step-by-step approach to sovereignty. By this sudden manoeuvre, they appeared more radical than the Labour Front and the PAP. I remarked that “Today, we are entertained by the unique spectacle of a mouse turned lion.”

The amendment was rejected and the original motion for immediate self-government was passed, well-timed to put the heat on Lennox-Boyd, who was due to arrive just a week later. By their move, however, the Progressive Party had destroyed themselves as a consistent, dependable party. Now there was no longer a coherent right wing or middle-of-the-road political force in Singapore.

Lennox-Boyd arrived in Singapore, met Marshall and went off to Malaya. On 2 August, the Speaker read to the Assembly a letter from the
governor, saying that the secretary of state for the colonies had discussed matters with the chief minister, and that the discussion would continue when he returned to Singapore from Malaya on 15 August. Marshall, mollified by a Lennox-Boyd looking and sounding sympathetic, said, “For the time being, perhaps we should rest there and proceed with normal business.” I disagreed, pointing out that there was nothing in the governor’s letter that materially altered the position since our last meeting “except that on that day, we had a much fiercer chief minister”. I then moved to block Marshall’s resolution thanking the governor, and the Assembly supported me. Marshall was livid.

But on 18 August, the Speaker read another letter from the governor, which stated that he would act in accordance with the chief minister’s advice except on the prorogation and the dissolution of the Assembly. The letter also said that the British government would be glad to welcome to London at a suitable date a representative delegation from Singapore to consider constitutional matters. Marshall declared, “This is indeed a happy day for Singapore. It marks the end of the first phase of our struggle for freedom. It marks the beginning of a new era … an exhilarating victory.” Marshall thrived on adrenaline. He again moved that the Speaker “… request the governor on their behalf to thank the secretary of state for his sympathetic approach to our aspirations”. I would have none of this and threatened to walk out – I wanted time to think about the implications of such a thank-you message. Marshall was outraged. My motion against the proposal was defeated.