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Chitchat Why Jamus Lim join Workers' Party ?
- Thread starter batman1
- Start date
Jamus misses his dad. 
Two dozen years ago, around this time, we lost Dad. He was fifty. The loss was sudden, and it left our family without a father figure. Thankfully, both my sister and me were old enough to absorb and process his passing. But one never quite accepts it; till today, I will feel pangs of longing when I am led to recall a pearl of wisdom he had shared, or if I hear a song that I know he loved, or when I chance on a beer that I wish we would have been able to enjoy together.
Later in life, after I met my wife, I had the fortune of meeting and getting to know her father. He quickly became a father to me, too, and his cheeky humor, curiosity about the world, and steadfast principles reminded me of Dad. We shared many simple moments, sitting and looking out at the peaceful Pennsylvanian countryside. Alas, a few years ago, in the depths of winter, we lost him too.
Loss is a universal human experience, and the loss of one’s parents’ is something that almost all of us will have to confront in our lives. There will never be a perfect salve, but one way we can cope is by remembering and practicing all that the person stood for and taught us while they were still around. And to cherish the moments that we have, with our families and our children, knowing that—as much as we wish it were otherwise—they will never be forever. Our small legacy, then, are the values that we leave behind, for the next generation.
Every year since 1999, we have taken out an obituary in the pages of the Straits Times. I would write a poem, to accompany the remembrance. This year, Mom declined to do so, but here is that poem, in any case.
Many mornings have come and gone
Since you were so cruelly snatched away
If only you were still here amongst us
Part of our laughter our song our play
Yet even in absence
You will always be part of our story
Jamus Lim
2 h ·Two dozen years ago, around this time, we lost Dad. He was fifty. The loss was sudden, and it left our family without a father figure. Thankfully, both my sister and me were old enough to absorb and process his passing. But one never quite accepts it; till today, I will feel pangs of longing when I am led to recall a pearl of wisdom he had shared, or if I hear a song that I know he loved, or when I chance on a beer that I wish we would have been able to enjoy together.
Later in life, after I met my wife, I had the fortune of meeting and getting to know her father. He quickly became a father to me, too, and his cheeky humor, curiosity about the world, and steadfast principles reminded me of Dad. We shared many simple moments, sitting and looking out at the peaceful Pennsylvanian countryside. Alas, a few years ago, in the depths of winter, we lost him too.
Loss is a universal human experience, and the loss of one’s parents’ is something that almost all of us will have to confront in our lives. There will never be a perfect salve, but one way we can cope is by remembering and practicing all that the person stood for and taught us while they were still around. And to cherish the moments that we have, with our families and our children, knowing that—as much as we wish it were otherwise—they will never be forever. Our small legacy, then, are the values that we leave behind, for the next generation.
Every year since 1999, we have taken out an obituary in the pages of the Straits Times. I would write a poem, to accompany the remembrance. This year, Mom declined to do so, but here is that poem, in any case.
Many mornings have come and gone
Since you were so cruelly snatched away
If only you were still here amongst us
Part of our laughter our song our play
Yet even in absence
You will always be part of our story
Jamus gives Lawrence problems. 
In an exchange with DPM Lawrence Wong about #Budget2023, I sought clarity on whether the fiscal stance of the budget would be regarded as contractionary if measured according to conventional international standards. I also wanted assurance that if a form of redundancy insurance were implemented by the government, it would not inadvertently delay payouts to those who had been freshly retrenched, in the name of making support contingent on retraining. #makingyourvotecount
Jamus Lim
12 h ·In an exchange with DPM Lawrence Wong about #Budget2023, I sought clarity on whether the fiscal stance of the budget would be regarded as contractionary if measured according to conventional international standards. I also wanted assurance that if a form of redundancy insurance were implemented by the government, it would not inadvertently delay payouts to those who had been freshly retrenched, in the name of making support contingent on retraining. #makingyourvotecount
Jamus was somewhat bemused by something DPM Lawrence Wong said. 
I was somewhat bemused by something DPM Lawrence Wong said, about the lower burden of taxation, in his roundup speech to #Budget2023. He showed, with charts, that the tax burden faced by our middle class was lower than elsewhere. He also said that Singaporeans enjoy a much higher quality of public service than elsewhere, for what they pay. There’s a certain truth to that; our public sector, insofar as efficiency is concerned, is pretty value-for-money. Why then do our middle classes feel so aggrieved and embattled? Are we spoiled complainers, ungrateful for the how good we have going? Or is there something about our lived experience that speaks to a greater truth?
Look, there isn’t any magic when it comes to public services. If we want to pay less on taxes, we’ll either have to accept lower quality, or less coverage, or longer waits. Some of it may be offset by high efficiency, but such gains can only go so far. Or we pay, through other means. So when we make the claim that we are paying low taxes and yet have a world-class educational outcomes, it shouldn’t surprise us that we are making it up with private tuition spending due to oversized classes. Or that our public hospitals—while still endowed with some of the best equipment and amazing doctors—require our patients to endure long waiting times. Or that our social security system cuts families off at unbearably low levels of income (see if you can find our little red dot in the chart).
We also pay via fees and charges, both real and hidden. We have among the most sophisticated systems in the world for charging for road usage, and owning a car is 3 to 4 times more expensive than elsewhere in the world. Our public housing embeds land costs, which can get inflated, and runs the risk of adding to an already-unbearable cost of living. HDB grants offset some of this burden, but it’s unclear whether these go disproportionately toward those who need help the most. Singaporeans intuitively understand this. That’s why there was a meme going around after #Budget2023 was announced, about how salaries seem to go from a lush lamb to a skeletal tulang when all is said and done (H/T: Singapore Laughs).
One may still argue that this is actually better. After all, this approach means that those who actually use public goods and services more end up paying more. It is, undeniably, more efficient. But is it fair or just? Much like how consumption taxes like GST are more efficient but typically also more regressive, the entire system can feel stacked against the less-fortunate, as well as the middle classes, who have less support for such costly “indirect taxes” (indirect taxes are in quotes because, strictly speaking, they are avoidable—so, not quite a “tax”—but we nevertheless feel compelled to pay, in order to keep up. No prizes for guessing which socioeconomic class often “chooses” not to pay).
It also puts us in a constant state of pressure. We are constantly being “tested” on our choices, and expend cognitive energy figuring out whether we want to drive/park at this time or not, to choose this health plan or that, or which subjects merit extra tuition. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t be mindful about how we spend our money. All I’m saying is that, truly, there isn’t any free lunch. We can’t really claim that we’ve a low tax burden—see!—so we must be well off, when we’re also being squeezed in so many other ways.
In the end, we’ll have to decide, as a society, what we want: a low-tax regime where we pay more indirectly (and maybe complain alot about charges), or a higher-tax one (which we’ll inevitably complain about), where government can direct spending in even more progressive ways. Regardless, the most important thing is to be clear-eyed about the realities of what tradeoffs are being made, so that we can be more informed when we engage in public policy debates. #makingyourvotecount
Jamus Lim
13 h ·I was somewhat bemused by something DPM Lawrence Wong said, about the lower burden of taxation, in his roundup speech to #Budget2023. He showed, with charts, that the tax burden faced by our middle class was lower than elsewhere. He also said that Singaporeans enjoy a much higher quality of public service than elsewhere, for what they pay. There’s a certain truth to that; our public sector, insofar as efficiency is concerned, is pretty value-for-money. Why then do our middle classes feel so aggrieved and embattled? Are we spoiled complainers, ungrateful for the how good we have going? Or is there something about our lived experience that speaks to a greater truth?
Look, there isn’t any magic when it comes to public services. If we want to pay less on taxes, we’ll either have to accept lower quality, or less coverage, or longer waits. Some of it may be offset by high efficiency, but such gains can only go so far. Or we pay, through other means. So when we make the claim that we are paying low taxes and yet have a world-class educational outcomes, it shouldn’t surprise us that we are making it up with private tuition spending due to oversized classes. Or that our public hospitals—while still endowed with some of the best equipment and amazing doctors—require our patients to endure long waiting times. Or that our social security system cuts families off at unbearably low levels of income (see if you can find our little red dot in the chart).
We also pay via fees and charges, both real and hidden. We have among the most sophisticated systems in the world for charging for road usage, and owning a car is 3 to 4 times more expensive than elsewhere in the world. Our public housing embeds land costs, which can get inflated, and runs the risk of adding to an already-unbearable cost of living. HDB grants offset some of this burden, but it’s unclear whether these go disproportionately toward those who need help the most. Singaporeans intuitively understand this. That’s why there was a meme going around after #Budget2023 was announced, about how salaries seem to go from a lush lamb to a skeletal tulang when all is said and done (H/T: Singapore Laughs).
One may still argue that this is actually better. After all, this approach means that those who actually use public goods and services more end up paying more. It is, undeniably, more efficient. But is it fair or just? Much like how consumption taxes like GST are more efficient but typically also more regressive, the entire system can feel stacked against the less-fortunate, as well as the middle classes, who have less support for such costly “indirect taxes” (indirect taxes are in quotes because, strictly speaking, they are avoidable—so, not quite a “tax”—but we nevertheless feel compelled to pay, in order to keep up. No prizes for guessing which socioeconomic class often “chooses” not to pay).
It also puts us in a constant state of pressure. We are constantly being “tested” on our choices, and expend cognitive energy figuring out whether we want to drive/park at this time or not, to choose this health plan or that, or which subjects merit extra tuition. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t be mindful about how we spend our money. All I’m saying is that, truly, there isn’t any free lunch. We can’t really claim that we’ve a low tax burden—see!—so we must be well off, when we’re also being squeezed in so many other ways.
In the end, we’ll have to decide, as a society, what we want: a low-tax regime where we pay more indirectly (and maybe complain alot about charges), or a higher-tax one (which we’ll inevitably complain about), where government can direct spending in even more progressive ways. Regardless, the most important thing is to be clear-eyed about the realities of what tradeoffs are being made, so that we can be more informed when we engage in public policy debates. #makingyourvotecount
Jamus continues house visits. 
This week, our #TeamSengkang house visits allowed us to wrap up 333D #Anchorvale, after which we made a head start on the uppermost levels of 326D.
One of the things we do during house visits—in addition to soliciting feedback on local and national concerns, and catching up with residents in general—is to offer support and assistance to those who are facing specific challenges. I don’t usually post about these cases, since many are idiosyncratic and private. But in some sense, our visits can become a mobile meet-the-people session (MPS), where if the scope of the issue is clear, we are able to obtain details and write the appeal on the basis of just the information provided during the brief stop. Otherwise, we offer guidance, and where warranted, invite the individual to come by our weekly MPS.
Of course, there’s never any guarantee that our appeals succeed. What we can assure our residents is that we do our level best to make the strongest case we can, on their behalf. It’s always a pleasant surprise when we subsequently bump into those whom we had assisted previously, thanking us for helping with their issue. It’s one of the little things that brings enormous gratification. #SengkangGRC
Jamus Lim
3 d ·This week, our #TeamSengkang house visits allowed us to wrap up 333D #Anchorvale, after which we made a head start on the uppermost levels of 326D.
One of the things we do during house visits—in addition to soliciting feedback on local and national concerns, and catching up with residents in general—is to offer support and assistance to those who are facing specific challenges. I don’t usually post about these cases, since many are idiosyncratic and private. But in some sense, our visits can become a mobile meet-the-people session (MPS), where if the scope of the issue is clear, we are able to obtain details and write the appeal on the basis of just the information provided during the brief stop. Otherwise, we offer guidance, and where warranted, invite the individual to come by our weekly MPS.
Of course, there’s never any guarantee that our appeals succeed. What we can assure our residents is that we do our level best to make the strongest case we can, on their behalf. It’s always a pleasant surprise when we subsequently bump into those whom we had assisted previously, thanking us for helping with their issue. It’s one of the little things that brings enormous gratification. #SengkangGRC
Jamus is concerned about education. 
As an educator and lifelong learner myself, I really buy into the idea of reskilling and continuous education. So it is unsurprising that I support the general thrust of the SkillsFuture program. Where I have more quibbles is in its execution, which is also informed by my background and experience in the education sector. A big part of the problem is the sort of retraining on offer. What’s there isn’t necessarily bad. I’ve heard complaints about some are using their credits for seemingly-useless courses like flower arrangement or sake tasting; but truth be told, these could springboard career changes, and we shouldn’t preemptively rule them out.
But it’s important that courses on offer are those that are delivered by the best teachers available, and they meet the skills needs that are missing in our economy. So we can’t just rely on MOE teachers alone. Problem is, the current hurdle rate for professors strikes me as unreasonably high. I confess I may be biased here, but the existing requirements ask that potential SkillsFuture trainers dedicate close to 90 hours of their time to be accredited. Think about it: you’re asking professors (I’m excluding myself here)—who may well have written the textbook on a subject, or published work that has redefined a field—to slog through weeks and weeks of pedagogical training.
All that busy work, just for the privilege of being able to offer SkillsFuture courses. Time is precious, and all the more so for busy academics who already face publishing, teaching, and service commitments to their universities. I can’t fully speak for others, but I have close to zero bandwidth (or inclination) to pursue such idiosyncratic accreditation. Many other academic colleagues express similar sentiments. So SkillsFuture may be inadvertently ruling out a whole bunch of domain experts.
The problem goes beyond university professors. Funding for in-house trainers will be removed in a few years, ostensibly due to lack of interest. But in-house trainers are probably the best equipped to deliver industry-relevant education. This move strikes me as the wrong way round: if takeup is poor, we should try to understand why this is so (and fix it), rather than simply accept the current state of affairs as indicative of genuine lack of demand.
Another class of trainers that are often shortchanged are experience-rich (but qualification-poor) laojiao. Some of these experienced tradesmen just aren’t good at tests. Yet the program still requires such paper-based evaluations.
In its response, MOE explained that it was exploring alternative pathways to evaluate the teaching ability of potential SkillsFuture providers. That’s welcome, and cannot happen fast enough. #makingyourvotecount
Jamus Lim
1 d ·As an educator and lifelong learner myself, I really buy into the idea of reskilling and continuous education. So it is unsurprising that I support the general thrust of the SkillsFuture program. Where I have more quibbles is in its execution, which is also informed by my background and experience in the education sector. A big part of the problem is the sort of retraining on offer. What’s there isn’t necessarily bad. I’ve heard complaints about some are using their credits for seemingly-useless courses like flower arrangement or sake tasting; but truth be told, these could springboard career changes, and we shouldn’t preemptively rule them out.
But it’s important that courses on offer are those that are delivered by the best teachers available, and they meet the skills needs that are missing in our economy. So we can’t just rely on MOE teachers alone. Problem is, the current hurdle rate for professors strikes me as unreasonably high. I confess I may be biased here, but the existing requirements ask that potential SkillsFuture trainers dedicate close to 90 hours of their time to be accredited. Think about it: you’re asking professors (I’m excluding myself here)—who may well have written the textbook on a subject, or published work that has redefined a field—to slog through weeks and weeks of pedagogical training.
All that busy work, just for the privilege of being able to offer SkillsFuture courses. Time is precious, and all the more so for busy academics who already face publishing, teaching, and service commitments to their universities. I can’t fully speak for others, but I have close to zero bandwidth (or inclination) to pursue such idiosyncratic accreditation. Many other academic colleagues express similar sentiments. So SkillsFuture may be inadvertently ruling out a whole bunch of domain experts.
The problem goes beyond university professors. Funding for in-house trainers will be removed in a few years, ostensibly due to lack of interest. But in-house trainers are probably the best equipped to deliver industry-relevant education. This move strikes me as the wrong way round: if takeup is poor, we should try to understand why this is so (and fix it), rather than simply accept the current state of affairs as indicative of genuine lack of demand.
Another class of trainers that are often shortchanged are experience-rich (but qualification-poor) laojiao. Some of these experienced tradesmen just aren’t good at tests. Yet the program still requires such paper-based evaluations.
In its response, MOE explained that it was exploring alternative pathways to evaluate the teaching ability of potential SkillsFuture providers. That’s welcome, and cannot happen fast enough. #makingyourvotecount
