Source: The Sunday Times 2 Sep 2012

Lee Wei Ling 

The Olympic Games are the most prestigious international sports competition, with thousands of athletes from over 200 nations taking part.

The ancient Olympic Games were held in Olympia, Greece from the 8th century BC to the 4th century AD. The modern Olympics, founded by Baron Pierre de Coubertin, started in 1896 in Greece. The motto of the Olympic Games is "Citius, Altius, Fortius," which is Latin for "Faster, Higher, Stronger."

There is no specific mention of who or what is being used for comparison. Is it one's personal best, that is, faster, higher and stronger than one's previous performance? If so, then as long as each athlete does his or her best in the competition, it is no shame not to win.

But the reality is that all athletes who participate in the Olympics, who are of world-class standard, want to win and are very disappointed when they don't. Other athletes who are not up to world standard participate for the experience and take pride in having made it to the Games even if they get no prizes.

Records of the performance of modern Olympic athletes show that "faster, higher, stronger" is indeed taking place over time.

Whether this is due to better nutrition and health, better training techniques or better equipment, or due to use of performance enhancing drugs that cannot be detected by current methods, is difficult to ascertain.

Another effect the Games try to achieve is international friendship and peace. The Ancient Olympics were a series of competitions between representatives of several city-states of ancient Greece.

All conflicts among the participating city states were postponed until the Games ended. The modern Olympics' symbol is made up of five interlocking rings, colored blue, yellow, black, green and red on a white background. The colors of the rings plus the white background stand for those colors that appear on all national flags of countries that compete in the Games. Hence I presume Baron Pierre de Coubertin hoped the Olympics would encourage world peace and international goodwill.

But when it comes to fostering international friendship — except for personal friendship forged at the Games — the Olympics have certainly not helped world peace. Instead, it gives terrorists an opportunity to wreak havoc, and kill or injure participants and audience. During the 1972 Olympics in Munich, members of the Israeli Olympic team were taken hostage and eventually killed by the Palestinian group Black September.

Little wonder then that strict security cover was provided for this year's Olympics, with 1,200 extra personnel — from the British army, navy and Royal Air Force — drafted in because of fears that the private security contractor's handling of the £284 million ($445 million) contract would not be up to standard.

In 1985, The Olympic Program (TOP) was established to create an Olympic brand. Membership of the TOP is both exclusive and expensive. Fees cost $50 million for a four-year membership. TOP members receive exclusive global advertising rights for their product category, and use of the Olympic symbol, the interlocking rings, in their publications and advertisements.

The growing importance of the mass media created the issue of corporate sponsorship and commercialization of the event, which has grown to the point where nearly every nation is represented. Such growth has created many challenges including boycotts, doping, bribery and terrorism.

I am personally against the Olympics because of the huge sums of money spent, with little or no concrete improvement to human welfare.

Perhaps modern societies demand circuses, and are willing to pay a high price for what is considered the most prestigious circus.

But even people who do not get to witness the circus are paying without being aware of it. They pay through public funding for the athletes, and for the cost of hosting an Olympic Games.

Public funding, of course, comes from taxes. Over the last 50 years, among the most expensive Games have been London 2012 ($14.8 billion) and Barcelona 1992 ($11.4 billion).

The Chinese authorities have not released data for the 2008 Beijing Olympics, but I suspect the opportunity cost of the funds spent would be much higher than the other countries, given China's per capita gross domestic product. In fact, cost overrun, averaging 180 percent, is a persistent problem for all Olympic Games.

Dr James Conner, a sports researcher at the University of New South Wales in Canberra, calculated the cost of a gold medal for Australia. The taxpayers paid about A$49 million ($52 million) for each gold medal. This sum does not even take into account the money spent at the state level, sponsorship dollars and expenditure of national sporting organizations.

What cannot be calculated is the human cost of hours put into training by the athletes who are usually of school or university age. Quite a few would have the option of their adult career limited as they did not get a chance to obtain a good education.

What does Singapore get out of sending athletes to the Olympic Games? Some may consider national pride as one gain, if our athletes win medals.

There are two rebuttals to this answer. First, just because we feel proud that a Singaporean has won any Olympic medal does not make us more patriotic and more willing to fight to defend Singapore if we are attacked.

Second, our medals so far have been from table tennis. The Times of India did an interesting analysis on ethnicity of table tennis players at the London Olympics. Of the 173 table tennis players, 55 are of Chinese descent, and 45 were born in China. From Lin Gui of Brazil to Ariel Hsing of the United States, Xia Lian Ni of Luxembourg to Bora Vang of Turkey, the Chinese are draped in the colors of 23 different countries. The entire Australian women's team consists of players born in China. [Askmelah's note: what is left unsaid is that we fared worse than Australia, the entire Womens and Men's teams from Singapore are all imported from China!!!]

In my humble opinion, the significant sums of public money Singapore spends on training athletes for the Olympics and other international games would be put to better use to encourage and teach our population how to exercise for health. Ironically, when exercise is carried to the extreme — as sometimes happens with national athletes — the result is frequent injury, which is contra-productive to health.

The writer is director of the National Neuroscience Institute.

On Sept 16, we had dinner at The Compleat Angler, a famous restaurant outside London, to celebrate my father's 86th birthday. He was last in the restaurant 47 years ago, when he was in London to discuss the terms of Singapore's merger with Malaya.

With him then were Dr Goh Keng Swee, Mr Hon Sui Sen, Mr Sim Kee Boon and Mr Howe Yoon Chong. In the midst of the acrimonious negotiations, the Singapore team had decided to de-stress at The Compleat Angler.

Forty-seven years later, the staff of Singapore's High Commission in Britain sprung a surprise on my father, who was visiting London last month. At the end of the dinner, while he was in the washroom, a birthday cake was brought out, and we all sang Happy Birthday when he returned to the table. Then we all sang his favourite song, 'Que sera sera, what will be will be...'

I thought to myself: 'Wrong. What will be, need not be!'

Consider what happened after that dinner at The Compleat Angler 47 years ago: The negotiations then led Singapore to join Malaya in 1963. Two years later, in 1965, Singapore was unceremoniously ejected from Malaysia. The outlook for this new island-nation was bleak.

But a small group of men was determined to ensure our survival. They built a multiracial Singapore, with the best interracial harmony in the world, and a meritocratic system in which all are given an equal chance. They achieved peace, happiness and progress for Singapore.

My father had other specific dreams for Singapore. In the 1970s, my mother's blind telephone operator could tell when he was approaching the Singapore River, such was its stench. Dr Albert Winsemius, who was Singapore's economic adviser and my father's friend, challenged my father to clean up the river so fish could live in it.

In 1987, upon the successful completion of the 10-year project to clean up the river, Dr Winsemius did indeed catch a fish.

My father then expanded upon his dreams for the area: 'In 20 years, it is possible that there could be breakthroughs in technology, both anti-pollution and in filtration,' he said. 'Then, we can dam up or put a barrage at the mouth of the marina...and we will have a huge freshwater lake.'

The Marina Barrage is the fulfilment of that vision. Its construction creates the world's first reservoir in the heart of a city. The reservoir's catchment is the most densely populated area of Singapore.

The reservoir's water will be treated using advanced membrane technology. This will ensure that the water is safe for drinking and will also allow land and water-based activities to be carried out within the catchment. The Barrage is also part of a flood control scheme to alleviate the problem of flooding in low-lying areas of the city.

The Marina Barrage was designed as part of the Public Utilities Board's ABC Waters Programme. This aims to encourage Singaporeans to appreciate the value of clean water and to do their part to keep our water clean.

In the year since its opening by the Prime Minister last October, the Marina Barrage has attracted more than 550,000 visitors. It has become a vantage point for people to view the picturesque city while enjoying the sea breeze. My father visited the area often during its development.

While I saw raw earth and construction, he described to me his dreams of a beautiful Marina Bay.

There will be two indoor gardens with careful climate control so that exotic plants can be cultivated. When the whole project is completed, there will be a beautiful water 'square' like the Piazza in Venice, but with a boardwalk around its perimeter that will pass the Gardens by the Bay. (Go to www.marina-bay.sg/marinabayvideo.html for a view of how the Bay will look like when fully developed.)

We also toured One Fullerton on a Sunday this past August. There were interesting restaurants and cafes, crowded with customers dining alfresco and enjoying the evening breeze and view.

The Old Guard turned many dreams into reality. Mr Lim Kim San, for instance, achieved in HDB what once seemed unachievable - housing 80 per cent of Singaporeans in public housing. And Dr Goh began the streaming of students to enable them to learn at their own pace - a step which helped propel Singapore's education system to the top ranks in the world.

Dr Goh was also instrumental in building from scratch a tough and smart military fighting machine - with the help of some 100 so-called Mexicans, as the disguised Israeli military officers were known.

Successive defence ministers have made refinements to what Dr Goh achieved, so Singapore now has a Third Generation Singapore Armed Forces.

In short, a group of determined men - together with Singaporeans who had lived through tough times and were willing to endure more hardship - succeeded in building a Singapore that no one ever thought possible, least of all the Old Guard themselves.

Margaret Mead was correct when she said: 'Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; it is the only thing that ever has.'

But we must not rest on our laurels. We must keep on striving to improve the quality of life of all Singaporeans. What the future will bring will not always be what we dreamt of. We must remain alert and resilient. Fortune favours only those who grab the opportunities life offers. If the future has rough patches, we should simply accept that as a fact of life, and continue to make the best of things.

My biggest worry is that our success to date has allowed a generation to grow up without knowing hardship. Whether they are willing to put in the hard work to turn their dreams into reality, and how they respond when misfortune and disasters strike, will determine Singapore's future.

The writer is director of the National Neuroscience Institute.

 Souce: The Sunday Times  12 Mar 2012

Scaling beyond life’s limits – by Lee Wei Ling

Source: The Sunday Times  Mar 11, 2012

Written by Lee Wei Ling

A few months ago, a colleague of mine urged me to attend an event at Speakers’ Corner to protest against the cruelty of exhibiting dolphins at Resorts World Sentosa.

I have read extensively about dolphins in captivity, and have no doubt that that is cruel. But dolphins are also ‘celebrity’ animals. At every moment of the day, there are countless ‘non-celebrity’ animals around the world being subjected to cruel treatment without anybody protesting. What makes dolphins more worthy of our sympathy than cows, sheep or chickens (animals we eat) or crocodiles and minks (animals we skin)?

In 1995, when I was learning to use MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) to study which part of our brain controls which part of our body, and how we generate thoughts, I visited Beth Israel Hospital in Boston. There, I met a psychologist who was a Jew - and, to my surprise, a vegetarian as well.

At meals, he avoided beef, chicken, pork and fish, but strangely enough, not scallops. I knew observant Jews did not eat scallops, for they were not considered kosher. I asked him why, though he was a vegetarian, he ate scallops. He did not give me a satisfactory answer.

So I named a number of animals, asking him in turn what he would eat and what he would not. It was soon obvious that he would eat animals he had no empathy for. It is certainly difficult to feel empathy for scallops, so he had no qualms eating them.

A free-living scallop, though, swims by rapidly opening and closing its shell - a method of locomotion that is also a defensive technique, protecting it from threatening predators. That suggests scallops are capable of feeling distress. And yet the Jewish psychologist felt no empathy for them. Unlike dolphins, scallops are not cute.

Most Singaporeans eat meat. But how many among us are aware of the cruel conditions in which the animals destined for our consumption are reared or slaughtered?

Hens reared for their eggs are usually kept in very cramped battery cages and are beak trimmed, all of which makes their life an awful misery.

There are rules as to how animals are to be slaughtered in all First World countries. The aim is to kill the animal in such a way as to cause minimal suffering. This is often done by electrical stunning, after which the animal is bled. But stunning does not always eliminate suffering for the animal.

To begin with, the stunning may not have been properly performed, in which case the animal would still feel pain as it is cut up.

Also, the other animals waiting to be slaughtered become terrified, for they can smell the ‘fear pheromone’ secreted by the agitated and frightened animals as they are killed.

Interestingly, when it comes to laboratory animals like rodents, it is mandatory to euthanise them in separate rooms so as to minimise the distress other animals nearby might feel.

Many people protest against the cruelty laboratory animals are subjected to in the interest of medical science. But don’t the abattoir and the meat trade inflict greater cruelty on animals?

In 2008-09, Resorts World Sentosa purchased 27 wild-caught dolphins from the Solomon Islands. In 2010, two of the dolphins died.

It is undoubtedly cruel to keep dolphins in captivity. But to return captive dolphins to the wild, without first training them in survival tactics, would expose them to dangers.

Dolphins kept in captivity for some time would no longer know how to fend for themselves in the wild. They can be attacked by sharks, or become entangled in the massive amount of rubbish that humans dump in the ocean.

Now that the 25 dolphins at Resorts World Sentosa have been in captivity for so long, releasing them into the wild would not be a good idea. If the dolphins can bring Singapore tourist dollars, I am not entirely sure we should release them.

Recently, sharks have also received much sympathy, with the consumption of shark’s fins in particular being condemned by some. Animal welfare groups oppose finning on moral grounds and also because it is a major cause of the rapid decline of the global shark population, they argue. I object to finning because of the suffering experienced by sharks whose fins have been removed.

I confess I might appear hypocritical; condemning cruelty to animals and yet still eating meat. It is possible but difficult to have a balanced diet as a vegan - which means not just omitting meat but also all animal products, including eggs and milk, from one’s diet.

I have tried a diet free of meat and eggs, with milk and soya products as my source of protein. I can manage such a diet for a few days but I do not find it particularly palatable.

So I remain an embarrassed omnivore who tries to minimise unnecessary suffering to animals where possible. And I dream of a future when we can grow meat and even body organs in cell culture so that our dietary as well as medical needs can be met without subjecting any sentient organisms to pain.

Government decision to balance drainage with roads and other land uses makes sense
Lee Wei Ling

Source : The Sunday Times 27 Mar 11;

This is already the end of March. The north-east monsoon should have ended. Yet I was awakened by torrential rain at 6am on a recent morning.

After a few minutes, I decided to go back to sleep and chase my dream. This was a technique I had developed myself. I found that if I could get back into the dream that I had woken up from, I could fall asleep again.

So I mentally went over my dream and indeed fell asleep, and the dream continued.

In my dream - which consisted more of recollection of my actual past rather than dreams - my bro-ther Hsien Yang and I were still pupils at Nanyang Primary School. To get to school, we were driven along Bukit Timah Road, which of course was next to the Bukit Timah canal.

In those days, the canal was much narrower than it is now, so whenever there was heavy rain, Bukit Timah Road tended to get flooded. If the heavy rain occurred at the same time as a high tide, flooding was certain.

Near Nanyang Primary in the 1960s were attap houses. The boys from the kampung would wade through the dirty flood water and offer to push stalled cars for a fee.

Readers under 30 years old would probably have never seen these attap houses for they stood on what is now prime land. Property prices near Nanyang Primary have gone up stupendously since the 1960s. Many ambitious parents move to be within 1km of Nanyang Primary to ensure that their children have a good chance of getting into the school.

Yang and I were in a car along Bukit Timah Road trapped in the flood. Our older brother Hsien Loong was attending Catholic High School and so was not around to chastise us.

Our car stalled because water had got into its engine. The canal had overflowed and one could not tell where the canal ended and where the road began.

It is amazing how daring one was before fear robbed us of the fun of childhood. Yang and I got out of the car, ignoring our driver's protests and tried to push the car. But we were too small and did not have enough strength to move the car. So, bashfully, we got back into the car, wet and muddy. Then three big boys came along to push our car in exchange for a fee.

Then I woke up and peered out of my window. It was too dark to see the rain, but the sound of heavy rain confirmed I hadn't just dreamt about it.

Now awake, I recalled clearly those days when Singapore flooded often. After the car was pushed to where the road was dry, the driver would open the bonnet, and remove the five cables attached to the distributor cap and dry them all with emery paper. I can remember this technical detail because the five cables attached to the cap were nicknamed sotong, which means cuttlefish in Malay.

We would eventually get to school, but less than half the pupils would have made it. So we would be told to go home.

Going home promised more fun. We would fold paper boats and place them in the drain which flowed away from our house. Now much older and a little wiser, I wonder whether the paper boats would have added to the obstructions in the drain further on.

Last year, we had exceptionally heavy rainfall over a very short period of time. Many roads which had never flooded before flooded. Some houses and shops were damaged. There was much complaining among those who were concerned about the losses they incurred.

My father Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew explained recently the Government's thinking on flood control:

To guard against a super-heavy rainfall that would occur once every 20 to 30 years, we would have to build more and bigger drains. But no amount of engineering can prevent floods. Also more and bigger drains would mean less space for roads. As it is, even the high cost of cars has not dissuaded people from wanting cars.

I don't always agree with the Government, but in this case, I do: It is better to have drains capable of coping with the usual rainfall, rather than invest in a system that can cope with the giant floods that occur only once every 20 to 30 years.

According to the PUB, there are currently 32 rivers and more than 7,000km of drains and canals in Singapore. They are part of PUB's flood management approach, which also involves:

Providing adequate drainage ahead of new developments;

Raising road and building levels, and getting building owners to implement flood protection measures; and

Making continual drainage improvement in areas affected by floods.

As a result of investing some $2 billion over the past 30 years in an extensive drainage system, our flood-prone areas have been significantly reduced by 98 per cent - from over 3,000ha in the 1970s to 56ha today. Singapore has achieved this despite increased urbanisation, which would usually have resulted in more floods. The flash floods that still occur tend to be localised affairs that subside within an hour.

Every decision comes with an opportunity cost. The wisest decision is one that minimises this cost. The public needs to understand the Government's logic. Unfortunately, grumbling is our favourite pastime.

No purpose served in being attached to one's looks; instead, being able to let go helps ease suffering

I had had a busy week so I decided to relax and scan the Lifestyle section of The Sunday Times. The photograph of a man and a pretty woman holding a string to which many mussels were attached caught my attention.

The man in the story, a Mr Lim, aged 45, managed to earn a living growing mussels after some trial and error. It was a hard life. Partly in jest, he told the reporter: 'I have already lost my youth. When I started at 31, I was so handsome but now I look old and I have lost at least 12kg.'

In the photograph, his face looks tanned and gaunt. He seems 20 years older than his pretty 32-year-old wife.

I have said in this column before that I myself am aesthetically challenged, and I meant it in all honesty. But there was a time when I looked reasonably attractive - average, I would say. The past 10 years, however, have been somewhat unkind to me, and my current appearance reflects the health difficulties I have had.

Recently, I needed to get a new passport photograph. When I compared the new photograph with the one I took in 2001, I realised how much my face had aged.

I have put on 20lb (9kg) as instructed by my doctor. But my face is more angular and gaunt and I have prominent eye bags. In the 2001 photograph, I could easily have passed for a teenage boy. Now I look my age, or older than my age. No matter how short I cut my hair, I can no longer pass for a young androgynous teenager or man.

Some readers may wonder why I needed a new passport photograph to realise how much my face had changed for the worse. The answer is simple. I rarely spend time looking at myself in the mirror. My hair is short, so I comb it without looking at a mirror.

Comparing the photograph of myself aged 46 with a photograph of myself aged 56 - and verifying that the 'now' photograph was accurate by looking carefully at myself in a mirror - I felt a little sad for a while. Then my common sense was back in control.

Indeed, a few months ago, when I wrote about my graduation at the age of 23, I showed the photograph of myself in my graduation gown and mortar board to one of my friends. I asked him: 'Can you recognise me now from that photograph?' He knew I wanted a frank answer and replied: 'No.'

I knew my face had aged, but I did not realise how much I had aged. Still, I have no right to complain. That I am still alive and relatively healthy now is already a near miracle. Furthermore, I don't depend on my looks to earn a living.

When I scrutinise myself objectively in the mirror, I realise that the part of my face that has changed the most are my eyes. They are slanted and slit, closely resembling my father's eyes in his old age. The lower part of my face looks angular and gaunt despite my weight gain, for most of my extra weight consists of muscle.

Recently, at the World Orchid Conference, two women separately asked me if I was Dr Lee. I asked the first woman who questioned me how she had guessed, since no recent photograph of me had appeared in the press. 'You look like your father,' she said.

(Incidentally, I avoid photographs of myself in the press not because I look old and unattractive. Rather, it is because I want to preserve my privacy. I am the only member of my family who can walk down Orchard Road and not be readily recognised - which was why I was somewhat surprised I was recognised at the World Orchid Conference.)

I thought of the Chinese phrase nadechi, fangdexia, which means literally 'what you pick up, you should also be able to let go without clinging to it'. In a previous article, I had used this phrase in relation to an elegant glass ornament my mother had given me, and which I had accidentally broken. But the phrase applies not only to objects but also to fortune, fame, prestige, success, appearance, youth and many other things or attributes to which we are attached.

I have not yet developed the ability to be totally detached from life's vicissitudes, but I have learnt to remind myself that desire of and attachment to worldly things bring suffering. I have thus become fairly successful in curbing some of my attachments.

If I believed in reincarnation, then I would feel that I had many more lives to struggle through before I attained nirvana. But I don't believe in reincarnation, and I am convinced that I am a transient on this planet.

This means that if I don't want to suffer too much in this life, I must continually remind myself that while I should aspire to help other humans, I must also be willing to be detached when detachment is the only option.

I don't resent the misfortunes that fate has brought me. I accept them as lessons in life that only personal experience can teach. Indeed, I believe I am fortunate rather than unfortunate to have learnt these lessons.

And one small lesson I have learnt is that there is no purpose served in being attached to my face - or what used to be my face. George Orwell once wrote that after the age of 50, we all have the face we deserve. I, for one, am quite comfortable with the one I have earned.