The night IT first went live ...
TODAY Weekend • August 23, 2008
THE National Theatre in the city, now demolished, was much less comfortable a place to listen to long speeches than the University Cultural Centre. The theatre was open-sided and only partially roofed, the cantilevered cover extending just a little beyond the stage. There was no air conditioning. There were mosquitoes despite the best efforts of the pest-busters. Stand-up electric fans benefitted only those seated nearest to them. Fort Canning Hill behind the theatre sometimes blocked the breeze. But it did not cut out traffic noise from Clemenceau Avenue and River Valley Road.
Cultural troupes from our ethnic communities put up performances at those National Day Rallies in the early years of Singapore’s independence. But few in the audience of government, community and business leaders paid much attention to their music and dance recitals. Some items preceded the Prime Minister’s speech.
Those scheduled for after the speech had rapidly declining spectatorship as people started streaming out after Mr Lee Kuan Yew had left the stage. I felt sorry for the performers and wondered why the rally organisers persisted in putting them through that generally unappreciated routine year after year.
In 1971, at the 6th National Day Rally, there was a totally unexpected and dramatic change of routine. Previous rallies were “closed door” affairs even though any uninvited interested party or disinterested passerby could hear what the Prime Minister was saying over the loudspeaker system. The rallies were so “closed door” that Singapore media was not allowed to report what was said until days later, when an expurgated version of the transcript was released for publication. In the media, we wondered why our Government wanted to do it that way. Whatever sensitive remarks had been made by the Prime Minister about our neighbours or other subjects would have been picked up by embassy officials and foreign media — and forwarded, using today’s computer term. Mr Lee Kuan Yew’s rally speeches exceeded two hours. Local reporters and editors could sit and listen, fairly relaxed unless one of us was dying to go to the loo. We noted down the main points and waited for the cleansed text before having to really think about news angles and story structures.
But that night in 1971, fairly soon after Mr Lee had started talking, there was a little stirring of people here and there in the audience. Today, it would be easy to find out why. Send SMSes to colleagues or buddies in different parts of the audience. We probably would not have to even do that. Messages would be flowing in fast and furious on mobile phones and notebook computers, all in silent mode. Back in 1971, it was only after Mr Lee had finished talking that we were able to receive urgent messages from our respective newsrooms that the entire speech had been telecast live. What about the embargo on reporting of the speech, some journalists asked. How could the press not report the Prime Minister’s speech, one that had gone live on national TV?
The good news is that the go-ahead to publish reports of the speech did finally come. And then it was a frantic rush to get the reports into the next morning’s newspapers. Someone ordered McDonald’s for the reporters and editors who had rushed back to the newsroom without making a pit stop for food. I still remember vividly: A McDonald’s hamburger had never tasted so good before — or since — that night.
A Straits Times report on Aug 16 recalledMr Lee explaining in 1971 why National Day rallies should be televised: “We cannot go on doing the things we are doing unless, not only you, but a lot of other people outside know the raison d’etre, the background, the reasons, the problems ...” So the tradition has been maintained since then, through Mr Goh Chok Tong’s premiership and now Mr Lee Hsien Loong’s.
There was nary a break in the live telecasts until last Sunday. This year’s English-language rally speech was recorded for telecast only the night after it was delivered. Obviously, the Prime Minister was being considerate, saving many of us the dilemma of deciding whether to watch the women’s table-tennis team finals at the Beijing Olympics or the National Day Rally — long without accompanying cultural show — at the Kent Ridge theatre. Of course, we can also be ungracious and say that the Prime Minister knew that the rally would lose in any viewership ratings bout against the table-tennis match. The optimists among Singaporeans would have been hoping for a gold medal. Even pessimists and realists would want to watch the match live. The three-woman team won Singapore a long-desired second Olympics medal, a silver like the first one 48 years ago.
What competing event in future is likely to cause another break in the live telecast of National Day Rallies? Whatever that may be, let it not be a crisis or a disaster. This year’s postponement of the telecast has a significance that goes beyond interest in the Olympics and TV viewership rivalry. It is yet another indication that the Government accepts that not everything it deems important has to be also a priority for every Singaporean. I sense that the Government feels comfortable enough to concede that.
Peter H L Lim is a writer and media consultant.
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