Stephen Vines’ prescient new book pulls few punches as it traces the furious face-off between Hong Kong and the motherland. By Mark Jones

The breakneck speed of recent events in Hong Kong now has a book that manages to keep up. Stephen Vines’ account of the past three years takes us well into 2021: only the necessities of printing halt his narrative.

That he has managed to cram over 300 pages full of reportage, narrative, interviews and statistical analysis, together with pen portraits of the main players on either side of the political divide, is a tribute to the author’s energy and formidable powers of organisation. The writing is brisk, assertive and never gets in the way of the story. As the story might be one of the pivotal events of the decade, that’s a substantial achievement.

Yet for all its drive and timeliness, Defying the Dragon: Hong Kong and the World’s Largest Dictatorship already feels like history rather than current affairs.

It is published at the precise moment that Hong Kong’s faltering, fractious history as a kind of democracy is closed. From now on, Legco will be populated exclusively by patriots whose only qualification for office will be the ownership of a small rubber stamp.

The present participle in the title suggests that the democracy movement and the majority of Hongkongers continue to defy China. His final chapter is more doubtful. It’s called “Endgame?” That question mark is interesting.

There’s no such punctuation mark over the Chinese Communist Party’s own endgame now that it has enacted the National Security Law (NSL). Nor has there been since the chairman of China’s Legislative Affairs Commission, Shen Chunyao, announced at a press conference that Beijing will “exercise full control over all aspects of policymaking in Hong Kong”.

Stephen Vines

Vines has the reporter’s – and the historian’s – knack of spotting a big moment which the rest of us may well have forgotten or overlooked. That is one of the book’s strengths. Prophecy is not.

“There is every reason to believe,” he writes, “that Hongkongers will continue demonstrating the same resilience and creativity that drove the 2019-20 uprising.” Perhaps so, but he does not venture to say how. Either he does not know what the opposition’s next move will be; or he’s not saying; or they, understandably, are not telling.

Balance and equivocation are also not facets of Vines’s narrative. The 2017 Netflix documentary about Joshua Wong (whose words appear on the cover urging “anyone who cares about Hong Kong and China” to read the book) was subtitled “Teenager vs Superpower”. There’s no superpower in Vines’s book, but “The World’s Largest Dictatorship”.

No equivocation either: in his view, China’s, and Xi Jinping’s, actions in Hong Kong follow the progress of all dictatorships and dictators.

And that progress invariably comes to an abrupt and often bloody end. Here, geo-political analysis falls prey to wish-fulfillment. Parallels with the fall of the USSR ignore the fact the former Soviet Union was bust, and its leaders knew it. You can call Xi’s China lots of things, but bust isn’t one of them. Apartheid fell partly because South African business got tired of being shut out of international markets. Yet last year, a record US$11 trillion worth of payments were cleared in Hong Kong. That does not look like an international capital market preparing to vote with its feet. You wonder if the forced kowtowing to Beijing on the NSL from the SAR’s business community is actually that forced at all. Business craves stability. Xi is obliging.

This is an important book whose importance will depend on when and where it is read. The timing is immaculate: it appears at a time when the post-Trump West is getting serious about articulating a concerted, meaningful position on China. As for where, only a few favoured politicians and censors will bother in China. Perhaps that will be the case in Hong Kong, too. But for policymakers in Brussels and Washington, London and Tokyo, the book will be an absolute page-turner.

Pick up a copy at the FCC or online via hongkongfp.com.

After his stint in the army, spent mostly in Japan, he went to work for Pacific Stars and Stripes, Asia bureau. Recalling his first day at work, he later wrote: “Stripes at the time occupied a run-down old wooden building. The newsroom would have looked familiar to anyone who’s ever worked in one. Tobacco smoke. Coffee cups. Stacks of papers. At one end was my future home: the copydesk, a real copydesk with a slot in the middle where the slot editor sat and doled out stories.”

While in Yokohama, he met his future wife, Kaoru. After their marriage they moved to what was then Saigon, South Vietnam, where Jim was promoted to editor.

Just before the fall of Saigon in 1975, the Shaws relocated first to Bangkok, then to Happy Valley, Hong Kong, where they lived for 20 years while Jim edited Off Duty magazine. He also taught their Siamese cat to use the toilet by progressively lowering its litter tray down the bowl.

At weekends, Jim and Kaoru and a group of media friends took off on an old fishing junk, the Li Po, for swimming, dinghy sailing and even barbecuing on the boat. The Li Po came to grief not through fire but storm, when Typhoon Ellen rampaged through Aberdeen Harbour in 1983. The group promptly bought the Li Po II.

During the 1980s, Hong Kong was Asia’s publishing centre, with many regional magazines edited and printed here. Jim was a founder member of the Hong Kong Magazine Editors group, which met for lunch once a month either at the FCC or on the tab of some grateful hotel manager.

Wherever they lived, but especially in Hong Kong, the Shaws made life-long friends. Jim loved working, boating and travelling, not necessarily in that order. They returned to the US in the late 1990s, moving first to Los Angeles, then to New Bern, North Carolina – which had a climate very like Hong Kong’s, Jim claimed – before settling back in his childhood home, Louisville, in 2010.

Jim enjoyed an enriched and leisurely life until he became ill late last year. One of the highlights of his last full year was a 2019 reunion of many friends and colleagues from his time in Hong Kong. A friend recalls the sensation of sipping mint juleps, sitting on the porch assailed by the smell of magnolias, in a warm southern sun. “He was that easy to be with.”

What do a Swede, a Singaporean, a surveyor and a solicitor have in common? The FCC, of course.

I moved to Hong Kong last November to join AFP as a news editor (and as it turned out, bassist in the newsroom band, The Wires.) I also produce the “Asia Matters” podcast in my spare time. Prior to this, I worked for the BBC in Scotland, Singapore and London, including editing the flagship programme “Outside Source”. Three of us on the team started the 50:50 diversity project, which has since grown to become a global alliance of more than 100 partners in 26 countries.

When we left Sweden for Hong Kong in 2003, my husband Ulf – a handball player who ended up in fintech – and I decided to make the most of what we thought would be a short adventure. Some 18 years on, Hong Kong is home; it’s where our three daughters grew up, and where the adventure has never ended. With my background as a news researcher with Sveriges Television, I have always been drawn to the vibrant news hub that is the FCC.

I am Singaporean and relocated to Hong Kong about six years ago. I have had several interesting career pivots, having started out as a chemistry teacher in Singapore before switching to travel as a flight attendant with Singapore Airlines. Subsequently, The Wall Street Journal brought me to Hong Kong. I currently work in finance and lead a charitable organisation called Help for Children Asia. As an ardent arts and literature lover, I especially enjoy watching plays.

I am originally from Australia and moved to Hong Kong in 2018 as security director at BT specialising in cyber security. Previously, I had often travelled to Asia for work and had always loved Hong Kong, so I jumped at the opportunity to move here when it arose. In my spare time, I am a freelance photographer and techie. I love the atmosphere of the club and its members.

I am a mother of two, a chartered surveyor, an accredited appraiser, a columnist for several financial magazines and newspapers, a part-time lecturer at HKU Spaces, and also an entrepreneur. I founded my own company, CHFT Advisory and Appraisal, in 2014. One of my missions is to bring the power of technology to the industry and fuel the expansion of my firm’s global business. In 2019, I was selected as a rising star by the American Society of Appraisers and I also won a Golden Bauhinia Women Entrepreneur Award (Innovation Technology) recently.

I am active both as an art historian and critic, and often comment on Hong Kong’s art and cultural scene. Apart from teaching in various universities, my major interests are the study of Hong Kong art, motoring history and food culture. One of my recent publications was Motor Heritage in Hong Kong – From the Postwar Era to 1960s, a research project funded by Wilson Heritage. As the founder and vice chairman of the Hong Kong Art History Research Society, I write regularly for the press, including several automobile magazines.

For the past three years I have produced documentaries and news features for a local broadcaster. In my previous life, I trained as an art historian and worked at a 1,000-year-old English castle, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Life has taken me to Hong Kong, Canada and the UK. Consistent with my wanderlust, I study Italian in my spare time, and hope to be able to live in Italy at some point. Some of my favourite things include dogs, wine, hiking, cooking, and museum-hopping – maybe not all at once.

I am a lawyer by profession, with a dispute resolution and contentious regulatory focus. While the more interesting aspects of my work involve handling regulatory and criminal investigations and white-collar defence, the real joy comes from occasionally officiating marriages for friends and other couples as a civil celebrant – after all, it’s one of the happier occasions in life when one needs a lawyer. You will probably see me around the club during weekends with my wife Ruby and mischievous one-year-old son Ryan.

I’ve reported from all corners of Hong Kong for international and local outlets, most recently on the city’s underground street racing scene. I’m always on the hunt for weird and wonderful stories. I was born and raised in Hong Kong. Second home – Whistler Mountain in Canada. I have a background in mechanical engineering. Young journo, big dreams.

I am a litigation solicitor with Herbert Smith Freehills. I was born and educated in Hong Kong, and have spent time studying and working in London, Beijing and Kingston, Ontario. I enjoy going to classical concerts and operas (my favourite is “Der Rosenkavalier”, and a good beer. Lately the pandemic has made it possible to enjoy both at the same time – with the help of online streaming. My wife Stephanie and I are thrilled to be joining the club.

Growing up in Poland, the thought of travelling outside the Eastern European bloc was something I never envisaged. I still remember the sense of freedom when I got my first passport after the fall of communism in the 1980s. After graduating from the Warsaw University of Technology with a master’s degree in chemical engineering, I joined the biggest gas company in Poland. But after qualifying and working as an engineer, the funny thing is, I have spent most of my professional career working in the finance industry.

I grew up in Melbourne and came to Hong Kong in 2008, at the height of the global financial crisis. A year later, I found my first job with Bloomberg TV Asia and my career in journalism took off. Reuters became my next base as I continued to thrive in business news. In September 2018, I began working for CNN – my first gig in hard news and I got a heartfelt taste of it during the 2019 Hong Kong protests.  Today, I continue to follow the Hong Kong/Taiwan story, US-China relations and any animal stories we can find around the world.

These days, I work as a lawyer, but I started out as a journalist of sorts. In the early 2000s, I wrote advertorials for Women’s Wear Daily in New York City. Think legwear, Fashion Week, and cotton fabric – real hard-hitting news. Not bad for a hayseed from Nebraska, but a fashionista I wasn’t. After some time in Washington DC and Los Angeles, I shipped off to Hong Kong. For work, I advise banks and other companies on US administrative law, mainly economic sanctions. I’m a co-chair of the American Chamber of Commerce’s Law Committee and a RUSI Associate Fellow.

It’s no secret that the world has a plastic problem. In recent years campaigns have called for a ban on plastic shopping bags and straws, but as Doug Woodring can testify, this is just the tip of the iceberg. In his 25 years living in Asia, including a decade running the Ocean Recovery Alliance, Woodring has seen how a societal reliance on plastic wreaks its toll.

Ocean Recovery Alliance founder Doug Woodring.

How has awareness about plastic pollution changed since you started Ocean Recovery Alliance in 2010?

Doug Woodring: It has become a global effort, as opposed to simply trying to protect the local creek or river. That’s important with plastic because, like air pollution, when it gets in the water, it moves. Plastic doesn’t degrade very easily. There’s only one way the problem can be solved and it’s from all things upstream. The ocean is just the downstream recipient of our activities.

 Because of David Attenborough’s “Planet Earth: Blue Planet II”, which spoke out quite strongly about the plastic issue, the UK and many other countries got excited. In Thailand they closed Maya Bay, where “The Beach” was filmed, due to pollution. Five years ago you never would have expected that a government would close their most famous tourist spot due to pollution.

When COVID-19 first emerged, I thought this was going to make us lose all the momentum. But we will come out the other end, probably with more corporations and governments ready to do things that can really make a difference.

Aside from reducing our everyday plastic use, how can we make real changes?

DW: The average half-life of plastic is more than 400 years. The challenges are societal; the way we do things on the run and use products that are cheap and packaged. It’s almost impossible to get away from it. You can’t go back to paper, glass, wood and metal in large volumes because of the environmental footprints that those also create. If you think about it, every single piece of plastic has left someone’s hand before it became garbage.

Carbon comes out of a big factory or a big power plant, and big trucks and boats that the average citizen doesn’t have a chance to touch. But plastic and waste are different. It is not that people want to litter, but the infrastructure is just not there.

Governments have a role to play because they can set policy. Consumers don’t have much power because they pretty much follow the lead for whatever they’re given. Some make an impact with their wallets

and their voices but a lot of them just pick up whatever’s on the shelf, and don’t think twice. I believe it’s the corporations that have the biggest role to play. They have the budgets and the marketing teams. They can tell the story, educate and lead policy. It’s been a chicken-and-egg problem. If someone doesn’t start to get the ball rolling, then we’ll never achieve economies of scale.

On Lombok, where plastic pollution threatens tourism and fishing, the Ocean Recovery Alliance helped start a weekly ocean clean-up.

Why did you decide to set up Ocean Recovery Alliance in Hong Kong?

DW: Asia has an opportunity to make changes because most of the manufacturing comes from this part of the world. You’re starting to see brands from the West ask for supply chain changes and material changes. Asia may well be an innovator for a lot of this.

Char Kway Teow Recipe:

Ingredients:

Sauce

5 tbsp soy sauce

1½ tbsp dark soy sauce

1 tbsp sugar

½ tsp  fish sauce

½ tsp salt

¼ tsp pepper powder

Chilli Paste

30g seeded dried red chillies, soak in water

2 pcs fresh red chillies, seeded

3 pcs small shallots or pearl onions, peeled and sliced

1 tsp oil

1 pinch salt

Other Ingredients

2 tbsp oil

3 pcs cloves garlic, chopped finely

8 pcs shelled prawn; submerge in ice cold water plus 2 tbsp sugar for 30 minutes

50g Chinese sausages, sliced diagonally

1 bun fresh bean sprouts, rinsed with cold water and drained

400g fresh flat rice noodles, loosened with no clumps

2 pcs large eggs

1 bun Chinese chives; remove about 2 cm of the bottom section and cut into 2 cm strip

Unlike Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn or Instagram, which are mostly fuelled by text, photos and videos, Clubhouse delivers a continuous livestream of audio conversations on everything from tech and business to arts, culture, sex, music, science, parenting, wellness, politics and human rights issues.

At the heart of the audio app are real-time discussion “rooms”, in which users can chime in by virtually “raising their hand” with the click of a button or simply listen anonymously.

Launched in the spring of 2020, Clubhouse burst into the mainstream nearly a year later in January 2021 when Tesla CEO Elon Musk participated in a live discussion moderated by venture capitalists and a Facebook executive.

Musk drew a then-record of 5,000 listeners to the room, propelling the app from niche to buzzworthy as a wave of celebrities followed suit. Even so, a much-discussed “air of exclusivity” remains, as users need an invitation to participate.

US-based tech analyst Jeremiah Owyang says Clubhouse offers real-time connection during COVID-19. (Photo: Supplied)

But these factors alone are not the only forces thrusting Clubhouse into the limelight, says Jeremiah Owyang, a technology analyst at San Francisco-based Kaleido Insights and an early Clubhouse convert. The app also reflects the global COVID-19 zeitgeist to “stay connected” in the face of social restrictions, travel bans and lockdowns.

“Clubhouse launched at the perfect moment; the world was going into quarantine and humans wanted to connect, even though they were physically separated,” says Owyang. “Real-time video resulted in ‘Zoom fatigue’ – it was just too much – and text-based social networks left us craving more human connection.

“So social audio is the ‘Goldilocks Medium’ as it’s the best of both worlds,” he says. “Since Clubhouse launched, many competitors have followed suit, and tech giants are planning to incorporate real-time voice into their existing communication suites.”

When he joined in 2020 as User No. 3,121, Owyang says there was only one Clubhouse room, populated mostly by residents of the US West Coast. Over the past year, Clubhouse has grown from 1,500 users in May 2020 to more than 10 million as of May 2021. While still dwarfed by Facebook and Twitter, the app has broadened its appeal, features, markets and available languages.

But for some, the app’s rising profile has made it riskier to use. For a short while after Musk’s appearance in early 2021, Clubhouse began to host rooms where users in China, Hong Kong and Taiwan could talk to each other live in Mandarin and Cantonese.

The rooms ranged from uncensored discussions about Chinese identity to Hong Kong’s protest movement, and included one 16-hour marathon session on Uyghur camps in Xinjiang that drew a reported 4,000 users. Users have also opened discussion rooms for Thai dissidents while other conversations have seen Saudi Arabians, Egyptians and Iranians tackling sensitive topics such as abortion, sexual harassment and political reform.

Clubhouse – a much sought-after invitation.

Given the app’s wide range of casual chats, panels, interviews, on-the-ground perspectives and expert insights, it’s no surprise that curious types and audiophiles have flocked to sign up to hear thoughts on topical issues from activists, experts, celebrities and ordinary people alike.

“Whenever I opted into a group that involved mainland Chinese, Taiwanese and Hong Kong users, I would treat it as though it was the last opportunity that a free, open discussion could take place,” says Hong Kong-based freelance journalist Ezra Cheung, who joined Clubhouse a few weeks after its release at the suggestion of a tech-savvy friend. “Once mainland Chinese authorities censored Clubhouse, I doubted that the same or similar scenarios would easily occur on mainland soil.” 

Users in mainland China were only able to access Clubhouse from September to October 2020, but many users appeared to still be using it with a VPN until February. Despite the ban, many sensitive conversations still take place about issues like democracy movements in Hong Kong, Thailand, and Myanmar as well as China-Taiwan relations.

“The environment Clubhouse has created – which allows people to come and go at will – is a reminder that not just your opinions matter. Others’ views matter too, so listen to them, and you’ll never be let down,” Cheung says. 

Cheung mostly uses Clubhouse to listen and learn, but the app can also offer a chance to organise discussions and network in a more casual setting. Members can engage during discussion, as well as ask for permission to reach out directly afterwards. Many language learners have also joined the bandwagon, opening rooms to practice speaking languages, such as Mandarin or German.

Tesla tycoon Elon Musk.

After some initial hesitancy about speaking on such a public platform, Hong Kong-based writer and cultural critic Vivienne Chow took the plunge and joined Clubhouse. From time to time, she has listened to the more sensitive discussions about Hong Kong politics.

“It was an interesting and moving experience… even as an audience member. Of course things are getting more difficult in terms of what we can or cannot say in public as we are still figuring out where the red line holds under the National Security Law in Hong Kong,” she says, adding that Clubhouse has many purposes beyond discussing politics. For instance, Chow has co-founded two “clubs” (discussion rooms that meet regularly): “Arts & Peeps: Asia and Beyond” on the arts; and “Astro Classmates,” on astrology.

“The great thing about Clubhouse is that it allows me to connect with people from the art world internationally – people I’d normally meet at art fairs or events but can’t because of the pandemic,” Chow says. “I’ve hosted and participated in chat rooms, mostly in English, [and had] enjoyable, insightful conversations. And I’ve met a lot of new contacts. It’s like the new LinkedIn.”

She most enjoys the opportunity to share “cultural memories” with other users, including a discussion about a 1994 Chinese rock ‘n’ roll concert in Hong Kong that starred musicians like Dou Wei, He Yong, Zhang Chu, and the heavy metal rock band Tang Dynasty.

For users who had not been able to attend – including many prominent organisers and music critics from China – she was able to bring the experience to life for them. “I ‘raised my hand’ to speak, sharing my tale and memories of that fantastic concert. Fellow speakers were delighted that they finally got to hear about the concert from someone who was actually there.”

Freelance journalist Ezra Cheung (centre) in front line reporting mode. (Photo: Supplied)

As Clubhouse is little more than a year old, members are still figuring out how to best use the app as the potential – and perils – of audio-based social media become more apparent.

Beijing is no longer a spectre that looms over Hong Kong, but a very tangible presence in the form of the National Security Law, which came into effect on 30 June 2020.

Since then, many Hong Kong-based journalists and media outlets have been tempted to consider alternative home bases in Asia, including Singapore. But press freedom in the city-state is arguably more draconian.

Having written a story for The Initium on how Singapore could be impacted by Hong Kong’s instability, Singaporean journalist and activist Kirsten Han explained that the city-state is far from a bastion of press freedom.

“If you’re someone who wants to leave Hong Kong because you’re troubled by the erosion of civil liberties like freedom of assembly, freedom of expression, and freedom of the press – why would you come to Singapore?” she asks.

On the 2021 World Press Freedom Index, Singapore ranks 160th out of 180 nations and territories – two spots down from its previous position at 158. The index classifies Singapore as “black” – the lowest possible category – alongside notoriously repressive countries like North Korea, China, Syria and Saudi Arabia. Hong Kong hovers at 80, down from 48th in 2009. Hong Kong’s status may be gradually declining, yet it’s still far from the black zone.

Freelance journalist and editor Kirsten Han spoke about press freedom in Singapore at the FCC in 2018. (Photo: Sarah Graham/FCC)

“Singapore wants to be a model for development, but it’s actually a counter-model for press freedom,” says Daniel Bastard, head of the APAC desk at Reporters Without Borders (RSF), alluding to the controversial Protection from Online Falsehoods and Manipulation Act (POFMA) introduced in May 2019.

The law affords the People’s Action Party (PAP) – Singapore’s ruling political party – the right to combat “fake news,” according to the official position. The Straits Times (ST), a pro-government paper with links to the PAP, recently defended the law as a necessity in a new COVID-19 reality where disinformation runs rampant.

While the law focuses on providing public corrections to alleged falsehoods,     it has also been used against local activists and the political opposition, which the government calls an “unfortunate coincidence”. Serious incidents can also be punished with hefty fines or even a prison sentence.

The law’s broad legislative wording, coupled with the enormous power wielded by the government, poses a threat to independent Singaporean media. Take the case of historian Dr Thum Ping Tjin, the founder and managing director of New Naratif, one of the few independent outlets in the country, as an example.

In 2020, the POFMA office issued a warning to Thum after he posted a video claiming that POFMA outlawed all government criticisms and effectively turned ministers into arbiters of truth. Given the legal consequences, Thum chose to post the necessary corrections while still challenging the law.

Then, of course, there are the “red lines that journalists should not cross, and if they do, it means very stressful lawsuits,” says Bastard. These are also called out-of-bounds markers (or “OB markers”) to indicate topics that aren’t suitable for open public discussion, like racism, LGBTQ issues, religion, or the finer points of government surveillance; OB markers are purposely kept vague.

He compares the system to China’s state media, albeit with a little more room for independent writers like Han. But those who incur the PAP’s wrath will likely face a team of government lawyers, which Bastard compares to a “David versus Goliath” fight.

A Singapore High Court judge ruled in February 2020 that, under POFMA charges, the burden of proof lies with the individual, who must prove the statement in question is true – not for the government to prove it is false.

That same month, in the case of The Online Citizen (TOC), another independent outlet, the court dismissed editor Terry Xu’s appeal against a correction order. TOC had published an article about supposed human rights infringements at Changi Prison, even though Xu pointed out that words like “allege” and “allegation” were used six times in the text.

Daniel Bastard, head of the APAC desk at RSF.

Despite this, the government deemed TOC guilty of spreading misinformation. The appeals process can cost thousands of dollars, depending on how long the hearing takes. In Xu’s POFMA case, he claimed that his appeal would cost at least SG$10,000, or roughly HK$58,350.

In addition to POFMA, says Bastard, the Singapore government also exerts influence within news organisations. “I believe, still now, that the [Hong Kong] government doesn’t nominate the chief editors and directors of publications, as the government does in Singapore,” explains Bastard. “So in Hong Kong, you still have some editorial freedom or at least autonomy. That doesn’t really exist in Singapore at all.”

Han, who previously served as the editor-in-chief of New Naratif, says the ST is a case in point. It’s owned by Singapore Press Holdings (SPH), and the firm’s chairpersons are usually either PAP civil servants or closely involved with the party. The current editor-in-chief, Warren Fernandez, was almost nominated as a PAP candidate in 2006.

At the 2019 World News Congress in Glasgow, the World Editors Forum elected Fernandez as president. “I couldn’t believe it, but it dawned on me that people outside Singapore don’t understand the context of Fernandez being [chief editor] of ST – and how far from independent the paper is in Singapore,” she recalls.

In early May 2021, SPH announced a plan to restructure into a non-profit “limited by guarantee” company, to be chaired by ex-PAP minister Khaw Boon Wan. As reported by Today Online (another state-funded publication run by Mediacorp): “A company limited by guarantee is an entity that does not have share capital or shareholders but, instead, has members who act as guarantors of the company’s liabilities.” The changes will allow SPH (which is still primarily a real estate company) to diversify its funding, a move predicted by former ST Editor-in-Chief Patrick Daniel.

With strong links to the People’s Action Party, The Straits Times is emphatically pro-government.

While the shift to a non-profit model is welcome, concerned watchdogs and local opposition have also expressed concerns over Khaw’s appointment as a missed opportunity to create a more independent media environment.

According to academic Cherian George, Khaw’s new role is just another entry in SPH’s long history of appointing former politicians and civil servants with “no prior industry experience” into leadership positions. It also toes the line of the far-reaching 1974 Newspaper and Printing Presses Act (NPPA), which put ministers in control of publishing permits. The PAP views the NPPA as a necessity for “moral policing” and social harmony, and to hold publishers accountable for their content.

But it’s clear that as social media becomes an increasingly powerful way for people to communicate, old methods of censorship and content regulation are quickly becoming obsolete.

RSF works with the UN Human Rights Council (UNHRC) to evaluate Singapore for its Universal Periodic Review. According to Bastard, Singapore has accepted 117 past recommendations from the UNHRC – not a single one related to press freedom. “It’s never good for states to be criticised over human rights, even if the PAP government obviously doesn’t care about press freedom,” he says.

But despite POFMA and the censorious climate it creates, the 2020 election showed that young, politically engaged Singaporeans are driving meaningful conversations around historically sensitive topics, such as race, class and independent media. 

Alexis Ong is a freelance culture journalist based in Singapore. Her favourite beats are emerging tech, video games, and internet culture.