The March of a confident nation

The Sunday Times Aug 2, 2009

By Lee Wei Ling

The first National Day Parade (NDP) I attended was in 1966 at the age of 11. It was also Singapore's first NDP, for National Day in 1965 had come either as a disappointment or a shock, depending on whether you thought a Malay Malaysia or a Malaysian Malaysia was the ideal.

From then on, through my years in school, NDP was an occasion of great significance to me and my family. In those early years of independence, Aug 9 marked the birthday of a nation that was still fragile, born as it was precipitously and prematurely. Our neighbours were all bigger and more powerful than we were, and viewed us with suspicion. Internally, racial and religious tensions were still palpable.

My parents took us to all the NDP rehearsals. My father would personally scrutinise the march-past, the mass displays and the floats to ensure that the parade was as near perfect as possible. The parades then were less extravagant than they are now, but my father took them seriously nevertheless because they were part of a conscious attempt to build a national identity. I implicitly knew that all along, which was why I never refused when I was instructed or asked to participate in the parades.

As I was writing this article, I asked my father if the NDPs were meant to build a national identity. His reply: “Yes — but national identity takes a long time to set in. The immediate effect was to give confidence to our people — that we can and are making it on our own.”

The NDPs of my youth consisted mainly of contingents marching past the President, tanks and even vehicles used by the riot police driving past, mass displays by schoolchildren and, finally, floats.

In the 1968 NDP, my brother Hsien Loong played the clarinet marching with the Catholic High School band. There was a downpour that Aug 9. My father had to decide whether to proceed with the parade or to postpone it. He decided to proceed, for to do otherwise would have implied that Singaporeans were not resilient. My mother, my brother Hsien Yang and I watched with pride from the windows of my father's office in City Hall as Hsien Loong marched past.

The 1969 NDP coincided with the 150th anniversary of Singapore's founding by Stamford Raffles in 1819. My father took especial pains with that year's parade, for it was attended by then Malaysian Deputy Prime Minister Tun Abdul Razak, Princess Alexandra of Kent representing the Queen of England, then Australian Defence Minister Malcolm Fraser, and other dignitaries.

I was part of a mass display put on by Nanyang Girls' High School that special NDP. The girls carried hoops of white or bright red plastic flowers, which made for changing patterns as they danced around the Padang. A small wooden stage was set up in the centre of the field. I marched up it carrying the Singapore flag and stood at attention as my friends moved around me.

The school had a backup for me in case I fell ill that day. She was 3cm taller than I was and I felt it was only fair that she should have the honour of carrying the flag. But my suggestion was rejected and I obediently accepted the role. I knew Nanyang Girls' wanted Singaporeans to know that the Prime Minister sent his daughter to a Chinese school. I also suspect that by being dressed up in a military costume while my friends wore samfoos, I was meant to symbolise the “rugged society” that my father was trying to inculcate.

We put in many hot and sweaty hours over eight months practising. My friends and I didn't complain. Rather, we felt it was an honour for our school to be selected to put on the display. On the actual day, our performance went well and I did not make any mistakes.

Did I have any special feelings? No more than slight nervousness and being conscious that there would be many photographers looking out for me. I did not like being recognised by the public even then, but I knew that was unavoidable.

I subsequently participated in three other NDPs: twice as part of the National Cadet Corps and once as part of the University of Singapore contingent.

All this was more than a generation ago. The young today have probably never heard of “rugged society”. They might be bored if they had to watch endless lines of contingents marching past, tanks rumbling by and police vans driving past. The only part of the parades then that might interest the young today were the mass displays.

NDPs now have singers and dancers as well as DJs. The mass displays today — high-tech affairs that make use of artificial lighting for maximum visual impact — are more impressive than the displays of the early years.

Sometimes, I feel nostalgic for the “good old days”, when there was less of the light-hearted singing and dancing that we have today. But I realise that the NDP has moved with the times, and the current generation of young people have different tastes from mine. I also take comfort that the fly-past of fighter jets and parachutists landing on the parade ground are better symbolic deterrents than the old tanks and riot police vans.

The organisers of today's NDP know what engages the hearts and minds of Gen X and Gen Y. But I hope when everyone sings “Stand Up For Singapore”, it will be more than just a song and the words will come sincerely from the heart.

I ponder my father's words: “National identity takes a long time to set in. The immediate effect was to give confidence to our people — that we can and are making it on our own.”

That we can make it on our own is no longer in doubt. A national identity is indeed emerging. But no NDP will persuade a talented Singaporean to stay on when he/she has better opportunities elsewhere. Singapore's own success has presented us with a new problem — brain drain. But the clean, safe and culturally vibrant city that we have built also attracts immigrants whose talent we need.

Life moves on — and so do the National Day Parades. It is one event in the calendar that engages all Singaporeans, “regardless of race, language or religion”.

The writer is Mentor Minister Lee Kuan Yew's daughter.