<TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="100%"><TBODY><TR class=msghead><TD class=msgbfr1 width="1%"></TD><TD><TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0><TBODY><TR class=msghead vAlign=top><TD class=msgF width="1%" noWrap align=right>From: </TD><TD class=msgFname width="68%" noWrap>CPL (kojakbt22) <NOBR>
</NOBR> </TD><TD class=msgDate width="30%" noWrap align=right>Dec-3 11:35 pm </TD></TR><TR class=msghead><TD class=msgT height=20 width="1%" noWrap align=right>To: </TD><TD class=msgTname width="68%" noWrap>ALL <NOBR></NOBR></TD><TD class=msgNum noWrap align=right> </TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></TD></TR><TR><TD class=msgleft rowSpan=4 width="1%"> </TD><TD class=wintiny noWrap align=right>25336.1 </TD></TR><TR><TD height=8></TD></TR><TR><TD class=msgtxt>Dec 4, 2009
From rank outsider to public guardian
Tongues wagged when Mr Philip Jeyaretnam was sworn in as a member of the Public Service Commission. Has he been co-opted by the Government? Is it not at odds with his political pedigree as son of opposition leader J.B. Jeyaretnam?
What does he think of his elder brother Kenneth, who now heads the Reform Party set up by his late father? The lawyer bares his thoughts and feelings in a 90-minute interview.
<!-- by line -->By Sue-Ann Chia, Senior Political Correspondent
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A young Mr Philip Jeyaretnam with his father, opposition leader JB Jeyaretnam, in a 1978 photo. Later, Mr Jeyaretnam would stay by his dad's side and provide moral support. -- ST FILE PHOTO
View more photos http://www.straitstimes.com/STI/STIMEDIA/image/20091204/a33-1.jpg
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ARMED with a Cambridge University law degree, Mr Philip Jeyaretnam thought it would not be too tough to clinch a job back in Singapore.
Instead, the first-class honours degree holder had the doors of law firms slammed in his face, one after another. But one reply really rankled him.
'Not recruiting,' said the big law firm. Yet when his friend applied to the same firm, she was invited for an interview.
It was a 'pretty ridiculous situation' which led him to conclude that the brush-off had something to do with his family name - one which is viewed by many as being on the wrong side of the establishment.
He is the younger son of late opposition leader J.B. Jeyaretnam, who - with his fiery speeches, thick sideburns and gravelly voice - was at one point a one-man fighting machine against the ruling People's Action Party (PAP).
Yet his father's political battles were the very reason he chose to return after graduation: to stay by his side and give him support - from legal advice to attending his opposition events.
But if he was expecting the warmth with which he re-embraced his homeland to be reciprocated by the Singapore system, he was in for a disappointment. It would take many a twist and turn before he was able to come in from the cold to take his place in his profession and in society.
Today, if he needed an affirmative answer as to whether he would be welcomed, his recent appointment to the Public Service Commission (PSC) would provide the clearest signal yet.
He joins a panel, which includes 10 other professionals and businessmen, tasked with selecting government scholars and deciding on the promotions and postings of senior civil servants.
It is a non-partisan position but is as closely linked to the Government as it can get; one which cements his crossover to the establishment.
Despite deviating from his father's political path, he believes the elder Mr Jeyaretnam, who died last year, would have been proud of his new role.
'I have no doubt that my father would be very happy for me,' he says, looking visibly relaxed as he lounges on a sofa in his high-ceiling living room filled with bright sunlight.
'It would not have been terribly different from how happy he was for me when I graduated from Officer Cadet School or when I was made a Senior Counsel - and the following year, when I became president of the Law Society.'
Indeed, there have been many feathers in his cap. But life had not always been smooth-sailing for the 45-year-old writer and lawyer, who bared his thoughts and feelings in a 90-minute interview at his Upper Bukit Timah home.
At times, his nasal chuckle would reverberate across the cavernous space - adding to the homely sounds of his wife and mother-in-law pottering in the kitchen, and his three children watching television in the den downstairs.
At other times, he stared beyond the glass doors into the gardens as he spoke, giving long and thoughtful answers.
A Singaporean outsider
AS HE was growing up, he was kept out of the education system here by his lawyer-parents, who fell in love while studying in University College London.
His British mother wanted her two children to receive an 'English education'. So both Philip and his elder brother Kenneth studied in international schools here and, later, boarding schools in Britain where they did their A levels.
His father's foray into opposition politics, after leaving the judiciary, was another reason why they were shielded from the Singapore system.
'Those were the days when you had to have a certificate of suitability to get into the University of Singapore,' he recalls.
'My father was understandably concerned about insulating us from any political fallout from his being in the opposition.'
Those fears were apparently real, not perceived. For example, he said that during his national service (NS), he was informed that his security clearance was lower than that of others. He presumed it was because of his father, who made political history with his win at Anson around that time, in the 1981 by-election which broke the PAP's monopoly in Parliament.
Later, after attending an advanced training course for officers, some of his coursemates who were interviewed by the military's security department told him that 'mostly, they were asking questions about you'.
These episodes, however, did not put him off the idea of getting a military scholarship as he enjoyed his NS days. But he remembers his 'father's face dropping' when his opinion was sought.
A government scholarship and a career in the civil service was also out of the question, he adds, noting the irony of his current PSC appointment.
The only option was to study in a foreign university, on his father's 'scholarship', which eventually became a financial strain because of the opposition MP's legal tangles. Two months after the late Mr Jeyaretnam's 1984 re-election, he was charged with allegedly mis-stating his Workers' Party's (WP) accounts.
Luckily, Mr Philip Jeyaretnam managed to complete his studies at Cambridge and returned home in 1986 amid the political maelstrom which led to his father being disbarred as a lawyer, going to prison and being expelled from Parliament.
What brought him back, he says, was 'the thought that with my father under attack, I had to be back here with him'.
The other reason was his then-girlfriend and now-wife Cindy, 45, whom he met in Cambridge. She was a PSC scholarship holder who had to return to Singapore to serve her bond.
So even though Britain beckoned with a life of comfort and charm as he had the right qualifications and was in the top set of chambers, the 22-year-old followed his heart home - only to be rebuffed by potential employers here.
He recounts how a senior partner at one top law firm apologised for not being able to hire him, as his other partners had 'concerns'.
He finally found a job with a newly set-up firm, Robert Wang and Woo, headed by his father's friend, Mr Woo Tchi Chu.
He moved on to Helen Yeo and Partners, which was run by the wife of former transport minister Yeo Cheow Tong. The firm later merged with Rodyk and Davidson - coincidentally, the first firm his mother worked for when she came to Singapore.
Will young lawyers face similar discrimination now? 'It jolly well should have changed. I certainly hope so and I can say for a fact that in my law firm, it wouldn't be an issue,' he says.
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From rank outsider to public guardian
Tongues wagged when Mr Philip Jeyaretnam was sworn in as a member of the Public Service Commission. Has he been co-opted by the Government? Is it not at odds with his political pedigree as son of opposition leader J.B. Jeyaretnam?
What does he think of his elder brother Kenneth, who now heads the Reform Party set up by his late father? The lawyer bares his thoughts and feelings in a 90-minute interview.
<!-- by line -->By Sue-Ann Chia, Senior Political Correspondent
<!-- end by line -->
<!-- end left side bar -->
<!-- story content : start -->
ARMED with a Cambridge University law degree, Mr Philip Jeyaretnam thought it would not be too tough to clinch a job back in Singapore.
Instead, the first-class honours degree holder had the doors of law firms slammed in his face, one after another. But one reply really rankled him.
'Not recruiting,' said the big law firm. Yet when his friend applied to the same firm, she was invited for an interview.
It was a 'pretty ridiculous situation' which led him to conclude that the brush-off had something to do with his family name - one which is viewed by many as being on the wrong side of the establishment.
He is the younger son of late opposition leader J.B. Jeyaretnam, who - with his fiery speeches, thick sideburns and gravelly voice - was at one point a one-man fighting machine against the ruling People's Action Party (PAP).
Yet his father's political battles were the very reason he chose to return after graduation: to stay by his side and give him support - from legal advice to attending his opposition events.
But if he was expecting the warmth with which he re-embraced his homeland to be reciprocated by the Singapore system, he was in for a disappointment. It would take many a twist and turn before he was able to come in from the cold to take his place in his profession and in society.
Today, if he needed an affirmative answer as to whether he would be welcomed, his recent appointment to the Public Service Commission (PSC) would provide the clearest signal yet.
He joins a panel, which includes 10 other professionals and businessmen, tasked with selecting government scholars and deciding on the promotions and postings of senior civil servants.
It is a non-partisan position but is as closely linked to the Government as it can get; one which cements his crossover to the establishment.
Despite deviating from his father's political path, he believes the elder Mr Jeyaretnam, who died last year, would have been proud of his new role.
'I have no doubt that my father would be very happy for me,' he says, looking visibly relaxed as he lounges on a sofa in his high-ceiling living room filled with bright sunlight.
'It would not have been terribly different from how happy he was for me when I graduated from Officer Cadet School or when I was made a Senior Counsel - and the following year, when I became president of the Law Society.'
Indeed, there have been many feathers in his cap. But life had not always been smooth-sailing for the 45-year-old writer and lawyer, who bared his thoughts and feelings in a 90-minute interview at his Upper Bukit Timah home.
At times, his nasal chuckle would reverberate across the cavernous space - adding to the homely sounds of his wife and mother-in-law pottering in the kitchen, and his three children watching television in the den downstairs.
At other times, he stared beyond the glass doors into the gardens as he spoke, giving long and thoughtful answers.
A Singaporean outsider
AS HE was growing up, he was kept out of the education system here by his lawyer-parents, who fell in love while studying in University College London.
His British mother wanted her two children to receive an 'English education'. So both Philip and his elder brother Kenneth studied in international schools here and, later, boarding schools in Britain where they did their A levels.
His father's foray into opposition politics, after leaving the judiciary, was another reason why they were shielded from the Singapore system.
'Those were the days when you had to have a certificate of suitability to get into the University of Singapore,' he recalls.
'My father was understandably concerned about insulating us from any political fallout from his being in the opposition.'
Those fears were apparently real, not perceived. For example, he said that during his national service (NS), he was informed that his security clearance was lower than that of others. He presumed it was because of his father, who made political history with his win at Anson around that time, in the 1981 by-election which broke the PAP's monopoly in Parliament.
Later, after attending an advanced training course for officers, some of his coursemates who were interviewed by the military's security department told him that 'mostly, they were asking questions about you'.
These episodes, however, did not put him off the idea of getting a military scholarship as he enjoyed his NS days. But he remembers his 'father's face dropping' when his opinion was sought.
A government scholarship and a career in the civil service was also out of the question, he adds, noting the irony of his current PSC appointment.
The only option was to study in a foreign university, on his father's 'scholarship', which eventually became a financial strain because of the opposition MP's legal tangles. Two months after the late Mr Jeyaretnam's 1984 re-election, he was charged with allegedly mis-stating his Workers' Party's (WP) accounts.
Luckily, Mr Philip Jeyaretnam managed to complete his studies at Cambridge and returned home in 1986 amid the political maelstrom which led to his father being disbarred as a lawyer, going to prison and being expelled from Parliament.
What brought him back, he says, was 'the thought that with my father under attack, I had to be back here with him'.
The other reason was his then-girlfriend and now-wife Cindy, 45, whom he met in Cambridge. She was a PSC scholarship holder who had to return to Singapore to serve her bond.
So even though Britain beckoned with a life of comfort and charm as he had the right qualifications and was in the top set of chambers, the 22-year-old followed his heart home - only to be rebuffed by potential employers here.
He recounts how a senior partner at one top law firm apologised for not being able to hire him, as his other partners had 'concerns'.
He finally found a job with a newly set-up firm, Robert Wang and Woo, headed by his father's friend, Mr Woo Tchi Chu.
He moved on to Helen Yeo and Partners, which was run by the wife of former transport minister Yeo Cheow Tong. The firm later merged with Rodyk and Davidson - coincidentally, the first firm his mother worked for when she came to Singapore.
Will young lawyers face similar discrimination now? 'It jolly well should have changed. I certainly hope so and I can say for a fact that in my law firm, it wouldn't be an issue,' he says.
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