Ryan Lee's Knowledge Exchange

Would Singapore have risen as fast if Chinese, not English, had been its working language?

During British colonial rule and into the early post-independence years, both Malaysia and Singapore saw a clear divide within their Chinese communities: English-educated elites and those from Chinese-medium schools. Despite being smaller in number, the English-educated group was disproportionately influential in the administration and governance of both territories.

In Singapore’s case, the PAP government faced strong pressure from the majority Chinese-educated population to adopt Chinese as the national language. This became a major political flashpoint that, if mismanaged, could have jeopardised the PAP’s hold on power. The issue was further complicated by the fact that the founding leadership of the PAP was overwhelmingly English-educated, creating a structural tension in early nation-building.

But the ministers, led by Lee Kuan Yew, were pragmatic and decisive. They held their position and made a calculated decision to adopt English as the main working language of the nascent state.

This choice was not about cultural preference, but strategic necessity. English served as a neutral bridge language in a deeply plural society, easing ethnic and dialect divisions while allowing the state to function efficiently and rapidly build a coherent bureaucracy on inherited administrative systems.

More importantly, it positioned Singapore to plug directly into global trade, finance, aviation, and multinational investment at a time when English was already the dominant language of international commerce, while China itself had yet to emerge as an economic power.

Had Chinese been chosen instead, Singapore may have developed a stronger cultural alignment with the Chinese-speaking world, but it would likely have faced a steeper climb in attracting Western capital and integrating into global systems during its formative decades — and potentially greater internal political complexity at home.

This is the quiet trade-off behind Singapore’s rise: cultural identity was balanced against pragmatism. And pragmatism won.

In addition, Singapore’s choice of English also helped reinforce its broader nation-building project in a multicultural setting where the population, though majority Chinese, was not monolithic. Positioned within a predominantly Malay region, English further served as a neutral, external-facing language, helping signal that Singapore was not aligning itself as an extension of any single cultural or regional identity, but as a distinct, multiethnic city-state oriented toward global connectivity.

Contrast this with Malaysia’s path, where after Tunku Abdul Rahman’s resignation, English was progressively de-emphasised in favour of Malay as the national and working language. While this shift strengthened national identity and linguistic cohesion, it also reduced the role of English in public administration and higher education over time, contributing to more uneven English proficiency across generations and sectors, and shaping a different trajectory of integration with global economic networks.

In hindsight, it is difficult to deny the strategic advantages of that choice in shaping Singapore’s trajectory.

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A VANISHED TRADITION IN BORNEO AND THE STORIES IT LEFT BEHIND

The now largely no longer practised Iban courtship tradition known as Ngayap is often discussed today in simplified terms.

Within the longhouse community, it was part of a structured social system of courtship, shaped by communal living and norms starkly different from the dating culture we know today. It functioned as a traditional pathway towards marriage, regulated by Iban customary law: a man could visit a woman for up to three nights before declaring his intentions. If he failed, her family could intervene, sometimes compelling marriage through the Tuai Rumah (longhouse chief).

Safeguards were built in. Daytime meetings were frowned upon as jegit (improper behaviour), while instruments like the ruding (jaw harp) were used to signal interest. Ethnographers such as Benedict Sandin and Derek Freeman documented Ngayap as part of a wider comparative tradition of nocturnal courtship across Asia.

Several factors explain its decline:

1. Growing access to formal education

2. Religious influence, especially Christianisation in rural Sarawak

3. Changing social frameworks and legal codification (e.g. Adat Iban 1993)

4. And, in some periods, unregulated relationships involving outsiders

With the formation of Malaysia on 16 September 1963, West Malaysian personnel were stationed in Sarawak. Oral accounts suggest that some relationships with outsiders did not lead to marriage, leaving families and communities to navigate the consequences, including children born from such unions. Earlier longhouse communities often supported these children, reflecting a strong ethic of communal care.

Looking back, Ngayap was neither a simple cultural curiosity nor a story that can be reduced to modern moral framing. It was a structured institution, now vanished, but the human stories it left behind still echo in Borneo’s cultural memory.

As a West Malaysian writing this, I acknowledge I may not have captured every nuance perfectly and may be inaccurate in certain details. If so, I welcome respectful correction, clarification, or civil discussion from those with deeper academic or lived knowledge of this subject.

If you found this reflection meaningful, feel free to like, follow my page, and share it with others who may be interested in cultural history and human stories.

ASIAN FOOD vs. WESTERN FOOD TELLS YOU MORE THAN YOU REALISE.

Asian food is communal whereas their Western counterpart is individualistic.

Now, hear me out.

Most Asians will understand this immediately:
The dishes are placed in the middle of the table for everyone to share.
You take a bit of this, a bit of that. The meal is collective.

On the other hand, many Western meals are individually plated.
Your steak is your steak. My fish and chips are mine.

Don’t believe me? Just observe the table setup.

You can still see some Western tourists in Asian countries looking slightly lost at first during communal dining:
“Which dish is mine?”
“Can I take from that plate?”
It honestly makes for quite a funny scene sometimes.

And then comes one of the most overlooked inventions in Asian dining culture:
the Lazy Susan.

Think about it.

The entire purpose of the Lazy Susan is built around sharing food equally and conveniently.
Everyone at the table gets access to every dish simply by rotating the tray.

That concept alone says a lot.

Even the Chinese preference for round tables reflects this mindset.
A round table brings people closer together physically and socially. No “head of the table”, no isolated corners, everyone shares the same space and the same dishes.

Meanwhile, Western dining traditionally leans more towards square or rectangular tables with individually assigned seating and individually plated meals.

Maybe food culture reveals more about civilisation, social behaviour, and values than we realise.

What do you think?

Do you agree, disagree, or think it’s more complicated than that?

Please share your thoughts.

CONTROVERSIAL & ARGUABLE TOPIC: EAST ASIA MIGHT BE MORE "INTERLINKED" THAN WE CARE TO ADMIT.

Xu Fu (徐福 / 徐巿) was sent by Qin Shi Huang to search for immortality in the eastern seas.

Chinese records say he never came back.
But here’s where it gets controversial:

1. In Japan he becomes Jofuku (じょふく ) — a mysterious “culture bearer” who supposedly never returned… because he stayed.
2. In Korea he appears as Seo Bok (서복) — folded into similar sea-crossing myth traditions.

And suddenly, one missing envoy becomes something much bigger:

A shared East Asian “origin echo”
— where China, Japan, and Korea each inherit fragments of the same wandering figure.

No hard evidence says he founded anything.

But folklore across three cultures keeps asking the same question:

What if the East Asian world didn’t just develop separately… but from overlapping mythic migrations we later split into national stories?

And Xu Fu sits right in that uncomfortable gap!!!

WHAT’S IN A CHINESE NAME? MORE HISTORY THAN MOST PEOPLE REALISE.

And sometimes… your surname may not be your “real” surname, at least not in its standardised form.

Chinese names in Roman characters are not random. They are a record of language, migration, and colonial history.

Take these examples:

• 李 → Lee (Southeast Asia & Hong Kong usage) / Li (Pinyin)
• 黄 → Wong (Cantonese) / Ooi (Penang Hokkien) / Huang (Pinyin)
• 陈 → Tan (Hokkien) / Chan (Cantonese) / Chen (Pinyin)
• 林 → Lim (Hokkien/Cantonese) / Lin (Pinyin)

Even within Malaysia, geography shapes identity:
• Northern regions (Penang, Kedah, Perlis) → strong Hokkien influence
• Central regions (Klang Valley, KL) → Cantonese dominance

That’s why two people with the same Chinese character can end up with completely different surnames in English.

Then comes history.

During British colonial times, many Chinese names were registered verbally. There was no standard spelling system. Clerks simply wrote what they heard. That alone created permanent variations—sometimes even within the same family.

Older generations also inherited the Wade-Giles romanisation system, before Hanyu Pinyin became the global standard. That’s why names like Lee, Wong, Chua, Lim, and Tan are still deeply rooted across Malaysia, Singapore, and Hong Kong.

Today, things are slowly changing. The younger generation increasingly uses Hanyu Pinyin—Li, Wang, Lin, Zhang—bringing names closer to modern Mandarin standardisation.

This is not just theory for me.

When I had my children, I registered their names in Hanyu Pinyin. I even wrestled with the idea of changing our surname from Lee to Li.

In the end, I chickened out. Not because it was wrong—but because I didn’t want to unsettle my father.

Looking back, I realise it shouldn’t have been an issue at all. The Chinese character remains the same. Only the Romanisation changes.

Interestingly, even Lee Kuan Yew’s grandchildren eventually adopted “Li” instead of “Lee,” reflecting the same shift across generations.

Contrast this with Indonesia, where Dutch colonial influence shaped spelling differently:
• 林 → Lim becomes Liem (Dutch-influenced spelling in Indonesia)
• 陈 → Tan may appear as Tjan in older Dutch-influenced records

Same Chinese roots. Different colonial filters.

And chances are… your surname has a story you’ve never actually heard before.

LEE KUAN YEW: A NAME THAT CARRIED WEIGHT

Reading Living the Asian Century by Kishore Mahbubani is not just informative, but deeply insightful.

Chapter 11, Back to School, caught my attention. It offers a revealing perspective on Lee Kuan Yew, not just as a statesman, but as a man viewed through the eyes of global movers and shakers.

In recounting his efforts to secure funding for the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy, Mahbubani shares an encounter with Li Ka-shing—long regarded as one of Hong Kong’s most influential tycoons.

Mahbubani approached Li with a letter of introduction from Lee Kuan Yew himself. It was a deliberate move, one that relied not on process, but on a reputation already firmly established.

After all, Lee did not stand alone. Together with Goh Keng Swee and S. Rajaratnam, he formed what Mahbubani described as an “incorruptible trio”—leaders defined by discipline, integrity, and an unimpeachable track record of public service.

It is in this light that Li Ka-shing’s response becomes telling. His willingness to contribute without hesitation was not merely generosity. It reflected confidence—confidence so strong that it exceeded the level of prior expectations for such an institution, underscoring the trust placed in the Lee Kuan Yew name.

What stands out in this episode is how naturally two of John C. Maxwell’s principles from The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership were embodied—long before they were even written.

1. The Law of the Picture
People ultimately follow what they see. In the case of Lee Kuan Yew, leadership was not an abstract idea but a lived standard—discipline, integrity, and an uncompromising approach to governance. Over time, that “picture” became so deeply ingrained that even the mere invocation of his name carried persuasive force, without the man himself needing to be present.

2. The Law of the Inner Circle
Leadership is never an individual performance. It is strengthened—or weakened—by those closest to it. Figures such as Goh Keng Swee and S. Rajaratnam were not just colleagues, but part of a tightly held ecosystem defined by competence, discipline, and incorruptibility.

And it is precisely here that the anecdote comes full circle.

When Kishore Mahbubani approached Li Ka-shing for support, the appeal did not rest on persuasion or policy detail alone. It rested, implicitly, on trust already earned elsewhere. The confidence that followed was not directed at an individual transaction, but at a system and a legacy associated with a name.

That is the quiet power of leadership done right.

Long before such ideas were named or codified, they were already being practised—consistently and without fanfare—by leaders who were less concerned with defining principles than embodying them.

In the end, what Mahbubani’s account reveals is simple but profound: credibility is not announced. It is accumulated. And once established, it travels further than the individual ever can.

11 YEARS LATER, IT STILL FEELS LIKE IT HAPPENED 11 MINUTES AGO.

One of my political and intellectual heroes has always been the late Lee Kuan Yew.

I’ve read almost everything written by him and about him. I knew it was highly unlikely I would ever meet him while he was alive. So, in a somewhat morbid but sincere way, I told myself that I would attend his wake when the time came.

When he passed away in 2015, I made good on that promise. I travelled to Singapore for a whirlwind trip just to pay my last respects.

Before that, I went to the Singapore High Commission to sign the condolence book. I had been following the news closely in the days leading up to the funeral.

On the day of his funeral, I was at the airport awaiting my flight. It felt symbolic — Singapore was drenched in heavy rain that day, while across the island, Singaporeans queued patiently under difficult conditions to bid him farewell.

Watching the scenes on airport television, it was clear to me that he had left a profound mark on the nation he helped transform from third world to first within a generation — a legacy that moved many to endure the rain and wait their turn to pay respects.

There is also a widely recalled anecdote from his time as Prime Minister, where during a National Day Parade held in heavy rain, proceedings were allowed to continue. It is often cited as reflecting the resilience and discipline he sought to instil in a young nation.

What I observed from the news coverage stayed with me:

1. The queue to pay respects was extraordinarily long, with mourners waiting for hours in the heat and humidity.

2. Many people were visibly emotional inside the hall where his body lay in state, including the elderly, frail, and wheelchair-bound.

3. The authorities continually adjusted crowd control arrangements, with updates communicated through official channels and the media to manage the unprecedented turnout.

When I was finally on the island and joined the queue myself, I saw the following first-hand:

1. The queue was orderly and well managed, with soldiers and volunteers ensuring comfort — including fans placed along the route and water made available.

2. Right in front of me were two elderly women in their 70s–80s, chatting animatedly. It was a striking reminder that even the old and infirm were willing to wait for hours to pay their last respects.

3. The queuing arrangements had been adjusted again that day, and the updates were clearly communicated. I was impressed by the efficiency and responsiveness of the crowd management — a reflection of Singapore’s disciplined administrative culture.

A few hours later, I finally entered the hall where the casket lay, and what I witnessed left a deep and indelible mark. The two elderly women in front of me broke down in tears and knelt when they saw the casket — as though paying respects to a father figure. That image has stayed with me ever since, and it aligned closely with what I had already seen in the news.

But the story does not end there.

Throughout my short stay, something else stayed with me. As I moved around on public transport, I observed a stark contrast with what I am used to in Malaysia:

Singaporeans of all races and religions carrying flowers, travelling across the city to various memorial sites to pay their respects. Some even brought their children along — as if to show them the legacy of the man who helped shape their nation.

In my next write-up, I’ll reflect on his counterpart, Mahathir Mohamad and his more complex legacy.

Stay tuned.

Kenya’s Sabastian Sawe has just rewritten history, clocking 1:59:30 at the 2026 London Marathon, the first official sub two‑hour marathon, smashing the late Kelvin Kiptum’s 2023 record of 2:00:35

Experts once insisted human speed had peaked, but this moment proves otherwise.
In the past, the so-called experts confidently predicted that humans had reached their fullest potential.

Well, look at this.

Sabastian Sawe — 1:59:30 at the London Marathon.

The first marathon in under two hours. History made in front of Buckingham Palace.

Key Facts
- Winner: Sabastian Sawe (Kenya), 1:59:30 — first legal sub‑2 marathon.

- Runner‑up: Yomif Kejelcha (Ethiopia), 1:59:41 — fastest debut marathon ever.

- Third place: Jacob Kiplimo (Uganda), 2:00:28 — also under the previous world record.

- Previous record: Kelvin Kiptum, 2:00:35 (Chicago, 2023).

- Context: Eliud Kipchoge ran 1:59:40 in 2019, but under non-record conditions.

Bibliography:

- The News International, London Marathon 2026: Sebastian Sawe becomes first man to run marathon under two hours, 26 April 2026.

- Olympics.com, London Marathon 2026: Sabastian Sawe clocks first legal sub‑2 hour marathon, 26 April 2026.

- NBC Sports, Sabastian Sawe runs first sub‑2‑hour marathon race, shatters world record in London, 26 April 2026.

- The Independent, London Marathon LIVE: Sabastian Sawe makes history with first marathon under two hours, 26 April 2026.

- ESPN Australia, London Marathon 2026: Sabastian Sawe breaks marathon world record, 26 April 2026.

Expert Predictions vs Reality:

- Past expert view: Physiologists argued biological and biomechanical constraints capped human speed. Limits were thought to be fixed by muscle fibre contraction rates and ground‑force mechanics.

- Counterpoint: Record progression shows humans keep getting faster, aided by training, technology, and relentless competition.

- Lesson: What was once “impossible” is now fact — the ceiling keeps moving.

Dual language/ 雙語:

DID YOU KNOW ANCIENT CHINA DEVELOPED ONE OF THE EARLIEST LARGE-SCALE MERIT-BASED CIVIL SERVICE SYSTEMS?

Yes, you read that right.

Ancient China pioneered the civil service examination system, known as the imperial examinations (科举), to select officials based on ability rather than birth or political patronage.

The system began taking shape under the Sui dynasty (581–618 CE), expanded during the Tang dynasty (618–907 CE), and lasted for over 1,300 years until its abolition in 1905.

Origins of the Scholar Examination System

1. Han Dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE): Recruitment relied largely on recommendations, but Emperor Wudi established the Taixue (Imperial Academy) in 124 BCE to train scholars in Confucian classics.
2. Sui Dynasty (581–618 CE): Introduced the first systematic written examinations, shifting selection toward demonstrated ability.
3. Tang Dynasty (618–907 CE): Exams became a formal pathway into government service, testing Confucian texts, law, governance, and literary skill.

Structure and Content
Levels: Local → Provincial → Metropolitan (capital) exams

Subjects: Confucian classics, law, governance, literary composition, and sometimes oral performance

Degrees:
Shengyuan (生员): Entry-level qualification
Jinshi (进士): Highest and most prestigious degree, required for top offices

Difficulty: Extremely competitive — at the highest level, pass rates could fall below 1%, with candidates often retaking exams multiple times over their lifetime

Impact on Society
1. Merit-based governance: Gradually reduced reliance on hereditary aristocracy, especially over time
2. Social mobility: Enabled talented individuals from non-aristocratic backgrounds to rise into officialdom
3. Cultural legacy: Deeply embedded education and examination culture into Chinese society
4. Broader influence: Inspired administrative ideas in Korea, Vietnam, Japan, and contributed to later civil service reforms in parts of the Western world.

Key Takeaway

China’s imperial examination system was one of the earliest large-scale attempts to institutionalise merit-based governance. It shaped state administration for centuries and left a lasting global legacy in how modern bureaucracies think about talent and selection.

In contrast, different societies evolved very different pathways of social mobility and governance.

In India, caste identities continue to influence aspects of social structure despite legal abolition, while in Malaysia, the idea of meritocracy is still widely debated in practice.

It’s a reminder that the pursuit of fairness in governance is not a finished chapter — but an ongoing challenge every society continues to navigate.

您是否知道，古代中國發展出了世界上最早的大型人才導向文官制度之一？

是的，您沒看錯。

古代中國首創了以科舉制度聞名的文官考試體系，依據個人能力而非出身背景或政治關係來選拔官員。

這一制度始建於隋朝（西元581–618年），在唐朝（618–907年）獲得進一步發展，並持續運行了超過一千三百年，直至1905年被廢除。

科舉制度的淵源

1. 漢朝（西元前206年–西元220年）：選官主要依賴察舉與推薦，但漢武帝於西元前124年設立太學，培養精通儒家經典的學者。
2. 隋朝（581–618年）：首次推行系統性的筆試，選拔重心轉向可驗證的能力。
3. 唐朝（618–907年）：科舉考試成為進入官府的正式途徑，考試內容涵蓋儒家經典、法律、治國方略及文學素養。

制度結構與考試內容

· 層級：地方試 → 省試 → 禮部（京城）試
· 科目：儒家經典、法律、治國方略、文學寫作，有時也包括口試表現
· 功名：
· 生員：初級資格
· 進士：最高且最為尊貴的功名，為擔任高階官職所必備
· 難度：競爭極其激烈——最高層級的考試錄取率可能低於1%，考生往往終其一生反覆應考多次。

對社會的影響

1. 能力導向的治理：逐步減少了對世襲貴族的依賴，此影響在歷時演進中尤為顯著。
2. 社會流動：使才華出眾但出身平凡者得以進入官僚階層。
3. 文化遺產：將教育與考試文化深深嵌入中國社會。
4. 廣泛影響：啟發了韓國、越南、日本等地的行政理念，並促成了後來西方世界部分地區的文官制度改革。

核心要點

中國的科舉制度是世界上最早嘗試將能力導向治理制度化的宏大實踐之一。它影響了數個世紀的國家行政管理，並在現代官僚體系如何思考人才與選拔的問題上，留下了深遠的全球性遺產。

相對而言，不同社會也演化出了截然不同的社會流動與治理路徑。

在印度，儘管法律上已廢除種姓制度，種姓身份仍持續影響社會結構的各個層面；而在馬來西亞，基於績效的選賢任能理念在實踐中依舊備受廣泛討論。

這提醒我們：追求治理中的公平正義並非一個已完成的章節，而是每一個社會都持續面對的課題。