Mr Chan Fook Wah was diagnosed to be suffering from advanced cancer by fellow detainee, Dr Poh Soo Kai and not the prison doctors. Not only did they fail to give him proper medical care after diagnosis, the doctors and prison authority were totally unsympathetic and negligent.

Mr Chan Fook Wah was an odd job worker. He was arrested on 17 February 1971 and released on 13 March 1978 when the ISD knew that he was near his death. For 7 years, the prison doctors failed to detect Mr Chan’s illness. Even after being diagnosed as having advanced cancer, they refused to send him to hospital for treatment. It was only after being pressurised by detainees that they sent him to hospital.

Why did the ISD release Mr Chan when he was so near his death? It was likely they did not want to have to deal with a death in prison and a coroner’s inquiry where evidence of how he was treated in prison would have to be disclosed. Mr Chan died 13 days after his release on 26 March 1978.

The attitude of the ISD towards sick detainees was incredible. Dr Poh himself was not properly treated when he was ill. He nearly lost his life when prison doctors failed to diagnose his illness. It was by a stroke of good luck that Dr Poh who comes from an illustrious family of doctors, that he is alive today.

The Ministry of Home Affairs’ recent refusal to set up a Commission of Inquiry is understandable. They knew that many former detainees suffered immensely under the hands of the ISD and that a commission may expose them to legal proceedings for compensation.

Below is the second part of Dr Poh speech delivered on 13 September 2011 in Singapore.

Teo Soh Lung
4 Oct 2011

Moon Crescent Centre (MCC)
I was kept in solitary confinement for almost a year in this 8-cell block, the largest in Moon Crescent Center (MCC). Then I was transferred to a smaller 5-cell block situated at the extreme west end of the MCC, separated from other blocks by the administrative block. This was unofficially known as the “tough” block. I found myself in pleasant company. Chan Fook Wah, Ho Piao and Chia Thye Poh, having got advance news of my arrival, were waiting behind the door to welcome me. It was nice to be with friends again after so many months in solitary confinement.

I made it a rule not to see detainees when they were sick as I could not treat them. I always insisted that they see the prison doctor. One day, Fook Wah complained of a stomach ache, and Dr. N. Singh came, examined him at the corridor just inside the compound. It was a cursory examination. He prescribed some antacids which were delivered that afternoon. By 10 p.m. when we were all locked in our individual cells, Fook Wah called for me. He said the stomach pain had not improved with the medication, it had worsened.

Fook Wah was a very stoic person. Terribly beaten in the lock-up, he had lifted his chair and decided to fight with the ISD brutes to the bitter end. What do you do with a man who is not afraid of death? The ISD boss was called in, and he wisely told the Neanderthals to stop the torture. Fook Wah was a leader in the Chinese High School students’ movement, and had to run when the police were going after its leaders. Though coming from a rich family, he endured the privations while on the run without any grumbles. When he called me from his cell, I knew the pain must have been severe, but what could I do. So I told him I would see him the first thing in the morning when the guard came to unlock us. In the dawn’s dim light, made worse in a prison cell, I could see no jaundice, but felt a huge lump in the abdomen. He must have noticed that I hesitated, for his next words were, “Soo Kai, do not be afraid to tell me the truth. I can take whatever it is.” I told him he had cancer and it was at a late stage. I wrote a letter to the Superintendent. I am not supposed to communicate with the prison doctor. Fook Wah was transferred to General Hospital, found to be inoperable, and sent back to our cell.

Upon returning to the block, the prison superintendent wanted to send him to the Changi prison hospital which was no more than a dormitory with cages for sick detainees. It was not a hospital. We could provide him with better care in the prison block. We all objected to Fook Wah going to the prison hospital and were prepared to fight against his being transferred there. The warder came with a wheel chair. Fook Wah refused to go. The warder was sent back to tell the superintendent. After a few days, the prison relented, and agreed to send Fook Wah back to the General Hospital’s prison block. He was there for a week or so, only to be released to go home when death was imminent.

Then one day I was sent to Whitley Road Detention Centre for a few months. This time I was alone in a large open cell with a small exercise yard. You can shout to your neighbours, but you can’t see them. Dr. Toh Siang Wah, the acting head of department when I was posted to Kandang Kerbau Maternity Hospital (KKMH) in 1961, came to see me. We had a chat and he decided to send me a bible, and said he will arrange for someone to read with me. That someone turned out to be a senior officer at Whitley. I had no objection. I only insisted on reading the bible from page one. And he did not know anything from Genesis. They must have found my interpretation more reasonable, for soon the session was over.

Sometime later, I was taken to the changing room and told to change into the clothes I was arrested in. More presentable now, I was wondering where they would be taking me to. Soon I was in the prison’s staff rest room. Tea and cakes were laid on the table. And to my surprise, I was warmly greeted by two doctors who had worked with me in hospital. They were Dr. Teo and Dr. Nagulendran. Both consultant psychiatrists at Woodbridge Hospital. They explained that they had been requested to conduct a psychiatric survey of detainees. The apparent objective was to have a psychiatric profile – like cardiac profile, or arthritic profile which I am sure you all are more used to. With this, it would save time and money to sieve through the hundreds of student applicants, etc. to higher institutions of learning. So detainees are on the way to becoming psychiatric patients, and maybe Whitley will be later known as a psychiatric hospital.

I was given forms to answer, questions ranged from IQ tests, to whether I was best loved at home. I was not going to fill the questionnaire. Then Dr. Nagulendran said the study would be absolutely secret and have nothing to do with the ISD. Further, I was free to participate or to reject participation.

I had my cakes, thanked them as I was happy to see some old friends. Told them I would decline participation. I was wondering what other detainees would do, most probably participate but give every untruthful answer they can. I was later to find my guess was right.

However, some 10 days later, I was called to the interrogation room. The sole interrogator, an inspector, put on an angry face and started by telling me that I will be punished for not participating in the survey. I smiled, and asked him how he came to know of my non-participation when I was assured by the doctors that the whole process was confidential and secret. He did not reply.

Then, suddenly I was transferred back to MCC, to my old block with Chia Thye Poh and Ho Piao.

Brush with death
Finally, in 1980 I was again transferred back to Whitley. This time in Whitley, I was also kept alone in the large cell. I was taken to the interrogation room about once a week to have small talk, sometimes on health problems and read papers.

Early one morning in 1981, I had a very severe pain running from the top of my head to my neck. I must have fainted, for the next thing I knew was that the guard had spotted me lying in the yard at about 4.30 a.m. and had called the inspector on duty. They came into my cell and enquired about my condition. I said I needed hospitalization for I think intra-cranial pressure had somehow increased. They rang up their superior and told me their order was to send me back to Changi Prison. The doctor there would attend to me. So early in the morning I was driven, with a severe headache and vomiting, to Changi Prison.

The male nurse on duty was kind. He told me that Dr. N. Singh had been informed and would see me the first thing in the morning when he came on duty. It was around 6.30 a.m. I was admitted into the prison hospital. It was a dormitory with two cages at the entrance, one on each side. I was put into one. He gave me two panadol, and I felt better lying in the bed.

It so happened that morning was my family visit day. My family on arriving at Whitley was redirected to Changi Prison. Vomiting and in bad shape, I was led along narrow corridors until I reached the visiting room. There was no intercom now. I told my family my condition and why they had sent me to Changi Prison hospital. Has Dr. Singh seen me? No. My dad was very worried. On returning home he telephoned my brother, who contacted his friends in the Health Ministry. It was arranged that a consultant from Changi General Hospital would come to see me.

The consultant physician came at about 3.30 p.m. He recommended that I be transferred to Changi General Hospital. It was a pleasure to have nice bedsheet, and a comfortable bed after so many years in prison. But I was too exhausted to really enjoy the new environment. The neurologist thought I needed an X-ray of my skull and I was dispatched to TTSH. They did multiple x-rays and came to no diagnosis. There was a huge mass pressing on the nasal cavity and the forehead.

The decision was to ask the neurosurgeon to come in. The operation was fixed on a Monday. I had been in the air-conditioned ward for close to a week. It must have been the air-conditioning, for a day or so before the scheduled operation, I coughed up a whole lump of mucus. The diagnosis was now obvious. I had a mucus cyst stretching from forehead to the cheek, and it had burst just in time before the operation! My skull need not be cut open. Instead the ENT surgeon was called in to operate on the very chronic sinusitis.

All went well. By the third day, when the pack left in the nasal cavity to stop the bleeding was being removed by the ENT surgeon, the wall of the cavity, weakened by continuous pressure from the expanding cyst, gave way. So, the pack was removed together with an artery that the wall was attached to. As a result, no blood went to the brain and I fainted. The only way then was to ligature the carotid, which a surgeon did. But then my heart stopped. My poor friend, the ENT surgeon frantically pumped at my chest. I was told that revived me, but I felt as if I had a fractured rib on recovery. Lack of oxygen to the retina, and alteration in the geometry of the eye socket became my main defects. Thanks to my friends, I survived.

My Release
Some three months in hospital in 1981, I was served another 2 years detention order and sent back to Whitley to recuperate. In August 1982, I was told I would be released. But I was warned that I should not criticize anyone, that I would not be allowed to hold a press conference to discuss my case and the charges against me, and that the ISD would be issuing a statement on my behalf. They even called in my parents to warn them that if I were to call a press conference, I would be rearrested straight away. I would have to follow the usual restriction orders whether I signed acknowledging receipt or not.

My reply was that I was a civilized person, and if reporters knocked at my door, I would invite them in. They had better post their men outside my door and shoo the reporters away. I would definitely deny whatever statement attributed to me but not signed by me.

I was released on Aug 26 1982, having spent all 17 years in Lee’s prison without a trial. No reporters came to see me for a few days. Then a person by the name of Mr. D’Silva from Associated Press came to my house. I told him of my restrictions and threat of imprisonment should I discuss my case. From this he could draw his own conclusion.

I was to run into him some time later. He told me that after the interview, he had gone to Albert Street to have a bite that evening. There was a tap on his shoulder and he was asked to follow the ISD officers to Whitley. He told them that whatever I said in my interview was all recorded in his tape, and they could have a look at his dispatch. They showed no interest. He was brought to the staff meeting room and sat there for the whole night. Early in the morning, he was asked to sign a statement that he had been well treated and then allowed to go. I suppose this was to frighten other foreign reporters in case they showed more courage than their local counterparts.

Harassment tactics continued. For example, when I was employed by a clinic at the airport, I was not allowed a pass onto the tarmac. Civil servants unfortunately dared not think. I just told them to ring up my clinic owner, a British nurse, and tell her that I had been denied entry onto the tarmac. So should any emergency arise, I was in no way responsible. A few phone calls followed, and I was issued with the pass.

After that short stint at the airport clinic, I started a private practice in Upper Serangoon Road before migrating to Canada in 1989.

By Dr Poh Soo Kai

Even after the general election in September 1963, where 5 Barisan members were elected, the arrest of political opponents continued. Three of the elected Barisan Members of Parliament namely S T Bani, Lee Tee Tong and Loh Meow Gong were arrested even before they could be sworn into Parliament. Another two Barisan MPs left Singapore and did not return when the PAP government refused to give an assurance that they would not be arrested. In 1964, another 88 were arrested and detained.

Dr Poh was released after 11 years of imprisonment without trial in 1973.  Defiant, principled and courageous, he called upon the PAP government to release his comrades in prison. He and a group of friends were in the process of forming a civil rights society when he was again arrested in 1976.  The following year, his friends were also arrested and imprisoned. Dr Poh was to be detained for another 6 years, thus spending a total of 17 years of the prime of his life in jail.

On 23 September 2011, MHA issued a statement accusing Dr Poh (though he was not named) of assisting a CPM saboteur. The statement reads:

“…In 1974, one of them provided medical assistance to a CPM saboteur who was hiding in Malaysia. The saboteur had been conveying a bomb for an attack in Singapore, and was travelling along Still Road (Katong) when it detonated prematurely, injuring him and killing his two accomplices…”

Dr Poh denies providing medical assistance to the injured even though under the Hippocratic Oath he has a duty to treat an injured person, whatever his political affiliation may be. MHA’s statement referred to a fiction composed by the ISD.  That fiction imagined Dr Poh, his wife and Dr G Raman visiting Masai in Johor to treat an injured person who the ISD claimed to be a communist. Dr Raman in a statement made in 1977 (which statement  is in the possession of the Attorney General’s Chambers) had already denied visiting Masai with Dr Poh and his wife.  Further, Dr Poh’s passport which the ISD had sight of, proved that he never went to Masai. Indeed, Dr Poh has until today never visited Masai.

Below is the first of two parts of a speech delivered on 13 September 2011. Dr Poh spoke about his arrests and detentions. Coincidentally, he also talked about the government’s baseless allegation that he treated an alleged bomber in 1974.

Teo Soh Lung

PART ONE 
MY ARREST AND DETENTION IN 1976
I was detained in Operation Cold Store i.e. 2nd Feb 1963, and released at the end of 1973. On the day of my release, I was advised by a very senior ISD officer that on release I should not publicize nor seek the release of my comrades in detention. It was not only dangerous for me but made their release more difficult. It was a friendly advice, and I believe made with good intentions.

However, I could not accept this bully-logic reflected in the thuggish policy pursued by the ISD. So on release, I met with four other comrades, P. Govindasamy, Lau Ah Lek, Fu Yang Yeow, and Tan Kim Sim, who were released on the same day, at my house. We issued a joint press statement, describing our individual detention – from three years to near 11 years – and called for the unconditional release of all detainees. We ended by calling Lee Kuan Yew a “political pimp.”

On the 11th anniversary of Operation Cold Store in 1974, I made a recorded speech of the mass arrests and a plea for support from FUEMSSO. The recorded speech was played at a meeting organized in London by FUEMSSO. I pointed out that on the very day of Operation Cold Store in 1963, Lee Kuan Yew had denied responsibility for the mass arrests in his press interview at the Singapore airport on his return from the (Internal Security Council) ISC meeting in K.L. This had infuriated Lord Selkirk who called him up, threatening to publish the relevant documents. Of course the press was blamed. In a later interview, he amended his earlier denial. However, it was clear to all, the denial was a publicity stunt to hit the headlines the day after the arrest. The subsequent correction would not have the same impact or it could even be ignored by the public.

The U.K., as chairman of the Internal Security Council (ISC), shared the responsibility for the arrests. The order for the arrests in February 1963, the carrying out of Operation Cold Store came directly from London. Selkirk and the others just enforced it. By handing the detainees over to the PAP government without first releasing them before the merger in September 1963, the U.K. shared responsibility for their continued detention. This moral responsibility cannot be shrugged off by any legalistic talk. Thus, in my speech to the FUEMSSO students in 1974, I said students in the U.K. should demand the UK government make a statement calling for their release, make their stand transparent and condemn the PAP for the continued detention of those they (the British) had earlier detained.

Later in 1974, I attended the Tokyo conference on imperialism organized by the World Council of Churches. There I described the police state that is Singapore. Friends at the Conference assured me of support should I be rearrested. During my re-arrest, these friends including some Japanese Parliamentarians, petitioned the PAP for my release.

In the same year, I met Ms Small of the International section of the British Labour Party, and a delegation of trade unionists from Sweden who were here to attend a NTUC function at Raffles Hotel. I met them separately at my home. They wanted to know more of the Internal Security Act, the conditions of detention, the people detained, the length of detention, and the conditions of release with restrictions, making of a security statement (a statement that implicates others), TV appearances, etc. I did not know then that they were planning to bring a motion asking the PAP to explain the detention, prolonged imprisonment, and ill treatment of its opponents in the forth coming Socialist International Conference to be held in Brussels in mid 1976.

Coincidentally, in early 1976 a few of us discussed the formation of a civil rights society, akin to the NGOs of today. G Raman, Ong Bock Chuan, M Fernandez, Gopinath Pillai (the PAP ambassador at large), Jing Quee, Gopal Baratham, and I had touched briefly upon the subject at a house warming party thrown by M. Fernandez.

This discussion developed into a pro-tem committee consisting of G. Raman, Michael Fernandez, Ong Bock Chuan, and I. We agreed to invite Father Joseph Ho, Dr. Gwee Ah Leng, and Dr. Un Hon Hin to join the committee. Tan Jing Quee did not join. He came to my house later with Kay Yew to express their deep concern that the PAP could use this civil rights society as a pretext for arrests. He was to be proven right.

Shortly after its formation, there was news that the Socialist International conference in Brussels would be tabling a motion asking its fraternal member, the PAP to explain the arrests without trial, and prolonged detention of political opponents.

The stage was set for our detention. By talking of civil rights, demanding the release of detainees, highlighting freedom of speech and assembly, as well as transparency and accountability to the people, we could become an embarrassment that needed to be nipped in the bud.

But how to present this as a serious threat to national security to the Singapore public and international opinion? Despite the visit of Harold Wilson, ex-Labour Party Prime Minister of Great Britain to Temasek, international opinion was unfavourable to Singapore against the backdrop of the Socialist International rapping the PAP for its long term detention without trial of its opponents. Hence, the communist bogey was invoked.

MY  ARREST
There was no more the knock upon the door in the wee hours of the morning. The ISD officers were waiting for me at the car park of my flat. As I came down the flight of steps to enter my car at about 7.30 a.m., I was approached by a couple of men who identified themselves as police officers. They said I was under arrest, but I would have to lead them back to the flat. When we entered my flat, they immediately closed all the windows. They were afraid neighbors would notice. They searched my study and took a few things away. Then as we were leaving, I asked if I could write a note to my wife, Grace, who had gone to work some half hour earlier. I wrote that the ISD had come. She should be brave and that I loved her. Inspector Lim read the note. He commented that we had been expecting the arrest. I nodded.

That I would be arrested was no secret. The PAP had to resign from the Socialist International as it could not honestly explain its totally undemocratic actions. Moreover, the PAP did not take well to moral pressure from any quarter. A week or so before my arrest in 1976, C.V. Devan Nair was dispatched to the Socialist International conference in Brussels to boast of his anti-colonial past, blithely ignoring the fact that experienced politicians attending the conference regarded him as a turncoat. He declared that he and I were acquainted and that I was a communist. That we were acquainted is without doubt. I had helped his family financially while he was under detention. But he should have checked with the ISD, being a turncoat and leading the PAP delegation, whether I was a communist before declaring that he knew that I was one. The ISD would have told him that it had sent me a letter through the prison authorities, in reply to my request for an issue of the Barisan Newspaper, that I am NOT a communist, and thus the request was allowed. Perhaps he was too lazy to check his accusations, or perhaps he did. That probably is a trait of a turncoat.

Devan’s allegation of me being a communist was in the headline of The Straits Times. It was all orchestrated. So I was expecting the arrest. Perhaps the PAP wanted me to flee, for during my interrogation, an officer made the comment that I was a Kamikaze. But he did not elaborate.

Continuing with the first day of my re-arrest, I was driven to my clinic on Balestier Road. They searched my consultation room. I do not know what they were looking for. But I was worried that they may plant ammunition there and “find” it. The thought that they were capable of fabrication was foremost in my mind, as I suddenly remembered what they said and did in Marshall’s Anson by-election of 1961. Then The Straits Times headlined a plot to kill the PAP ministers.  The Director of the Special Branch, Mr. G Bogaars, personally led a raid on a house in Telok Kurau – not far from my place. Some men were arrested, and ammunition reportedly found. Photos abound in the newspaper. All was quiet for a week or so. Then when Marshall spoke up at Anson to say he doubted the authenticity of the story, the ST printed, in small print and in the inside pages, a report to say that the ISD had received the information from “overzealous” police agents. Who were these overzealous police agents who had given false reports, and what happened to the ammunition found in the house – and who were their owners? Nothing more was ever disclosed.

I was led to the police car, made to put on a pair of spectacles that had a layer of foam on the inside. I was totally blinded. Even though my clinic was only a stone’s throw from the Whitley Holding Centre, it took quite a while to reach there. It was a poor attempt to disorientate me and a total waste of petrol.

After changing into a T-shirt and short cotton pants, the spectacles were now off, I was led to my cell. It was on one limb of a U-shaped single-story structure with a flat concrete roof. There were more cells on the other limb. The prison guard’s station and the lavatory occupied the junction of the two limbs. In the centre of the building was the exercise yard, fenced off on all sides from the cells. The walls were high, and you could only see angled skies and the top of distant trees. The cell measured some 5 feet by10 feet with a fixed bunk in the center. The fluorescent light was on all the time when I was in the cell. Once it blew, and all was in darkness. The guard could see nothing through the peep hole in his regular rounds. Immediately I was moved to an adjacent cell while the electrician on call promptly replaced the bulb.

My first family visit was a disaster. My younger brother, a clinical professor came to visit me. He worked as a chest physician at Tan Tock Seng Hospital.  His first question was, “Have you newspapers to read?” “No reading material,” was my reply. Click. The intercom was cut off. I was not to talk of matters in the centre. And so ended prematurely the visit for the family for the week.

I was summoned to go to an interrogation cell on the first day of my re-arrest. The guards had to be careful. If there was a red light at the end of the corridor, he had to stop, make me face the wall of the corridor, lest we run into some other escorted detainees approaching the right angle junction. New traffic rules had to be learned!!

Strange as it may seem, the officers asked no questions. We sat and looked at each other, and engaged in small talk. One told me he had recently returned from a posting in Cambodia. He was on the last plane out of Phnom Penh before the city fell. Another asked me to talk on socialism and try to convince him. I told him it is not possible unless we change places. They were friendly, but kept on telling me that if I do not write a confession I will definitely rot in prison. So I asked them to ask me questions if they want to know anything. They would not! The reply I got was that if they did, then I would know what they knew of me! So we sat there from about 6.00 a.m. to midnight staring at each other. They placed a small clock on the table and told me I could go back to my cell only at midnight. That kind of interrogation went on daily for the six months I was in Whitley Road Detention Centre.

The interrogation rooms were cold. For the evening session, the officers came in warm clothing while I shivered. Going back to the cell, however, was not comfortable either. It was terribly hot- like entering a furnace, more so after the cold of the interrogation room. I was most happy when it rained, for then the cell was much more comfortable. The heat did not dissipate from the poorly ventilated room until well passed 2.00 a.m.

Then one day, Deputy Director Peter Szeto walked in accompanied by some 6-8 rough-looking men. They stood behind me and by my two sides. But Szeto was polite. He asked if I had made night calls in my medical practice lately. On reflection I told him yes, one. He showed interest. Who did I attend to? It was a tenant on the ground floor who had abdominal pain. Any more night calls? No. Disappointment showed on his face. Did I send out letters lately? I did. I knew then that my letter to Lin Chew after the PAP’s walk-out from the Socialist International had been intercepted. In the letter, I had told her that I agreed with the Socialist International’s move to ask the PAP to explain its detention of political opponents, but I told her that she was not to worry over me. The PAP would have to find a scapegoat for that humiliation and I was prepared for it. Maybe because they had intercepted my letter, they did not ask me questions regarding Lin Chew or the Socialist International.

And then suddenly the door of the interrogation room was flung open and H.H was pushed in, onto the floor. I knew him. He was an ex-detainee. An honest man but I had suspected that he had links with the Singapore Revolutionary Party, an organization I would not touch.  He was my patient. They had beaten him up and he was in bad shape. He looked at me and said sorry to me. Though he did not finish his sentence, I surmised that he must have told the ISD that I had given him medicine for the injured bomber. (A year back, two bombers attempted to attack the Nanyang Shoe Factory but the home-made bomb went off in the attackers’ car while they were driving to the factory, killing the driver and injuring the other bomber.)  I told HH not to worry, just tell them the truth. After that they dragged HH out of the room. They never interrogated me about the prescription but I was not concerned as the drugs were prescribed for HH’s flu symptoms. In fact, the ISD officers had gone to my clinic and taken H H’s medical case notes and a few days later, they showed me my own prescription for HH. Thus the poker game they played with me ended on an anti-climax note for the ISD.

Back to waiting for the clock to strike midnight. But there was one incident I must tell you. One day I was brought to the upper floor of the interrogation block. The Nepalese guard, the ghurka, stood outside the closed door. I was alone in the room. Suddenly I heard an extremely loud stamping of the boot in salute. The door was opened  and expecting some big shot to come in – thus the  unusually extra loud salute—I turned my head to look at the entrance. In walked a man, spotlessly dressed, in his late thirties, perhaps early forties. He was alone and that was unusual, because very senior officers nearly always come in pairs. He walked round to the other side of the table, pulled out the chair and sat down. He smiled, and said “Dr. Poh, may I call you Dr. Poh”. We were given numbers, and were never addressed by name. He was trying to be polite and nice. My reply was, “Of course you can.” Then the next question made my day. He asked, “Dr. Poh, now what is your story?” My reply was direct, “what story do you want?” He knew he had lost. He got up and stiffly walked out of the room.

After some months, I was transferred to Moon Crescent Center. A few weeks in a three-cell block with friends, then solitary in a big 8-cell block.

In early February 1977, the ISD officers informed me of my wife’s, Grace, detention. They said I could visit her at Whitley Road Detention Centre. She had just been arrested. I knew that her detention was aimed at me. I would not let them enjoy and exploit my discomfort. I turned down the offer to see my wife. She was detained for a month, with days and nights in the cold interrogation room.

Also, some time in early February 1977, I heard of the arrest of my friends, G. Raman (who was my lawyer), A. Mahadeva, Jing Quee, Kay Yew, Joethy, etc.

Then through the prison grapevine, came the news that in an arranged BBC interview, Lee Kuan Yew had said that G.Raman had sworn an affidavit that he, Grace and I had gone one night to treat an injured man in Masai, Johor. That G. Raman, a senior lawyer held under detention, had been brought under guard – though Lee Kuan Yew took pains to stress that there were no uniformed officers around – to the magistrate court to swear an affidavit, testified to the contemptuous attitude Lee had of Singapore’s judiciary.

And so Lee declared that based upon Raman’s affidavit, he would let the Singapore Medical Council (SMC) judge me. I would be judged by my peers. Presumably, Lee thought that this would satisfy some of the critics of my arrest.

But this was all a public relations exercise. Fabricate a story, hog the headlines, then quietly forget it. The SMC was never instructed by the government to summon me for an enquiry. I received no request to appear before the SMC.

In fact, my copy of the newspaper of the BBC interview was censored. Why keep me in the dark when I would be appearing before the Medical Council and be judged by my peers? The sad thing is, up to quite recently, I was surprised to hear a young friend telling me that it is the ethical duty of every doctor to treat any injured person anywhere. If there was an injured person in Masai, going to Masai was perfectly right and ethical. The young friend could not believe his ears when I told him that up till today, I had not been to Masai. He must be wondering, what other nonsense and myths he had believed in since his school days. He thanked me for waking him up.

Dr Poh Soo Kai

Dr Ang was arrested on 15 March 1977, one month after Tan Jing Quee was arrested.  At the time of her arrest, her husband of two weeks, Francis Khoo, a lawyer had escaped to London after many of their friends were arrested and imprisoned. Both she and her husband now live as exiles in London. The documents and photographs seized have not been returned to them.

“On the morning of my arrest, I was operating, when one of my colleagues came to tell me that a number of plain clothes policemen were looking for me. I told him that I got to finish operating on my patient before I could see them. They waited outside the operating theatre, maybe about 10 of them altogether, since we left in 2 cars. One of them wanted to hand-cuff me, but I told them I was not going to run away, and could not anyway. Furthermore they should not lead me with hand cuffs through the crowded hospital corridors for everyone to see, since some of the people sitting along the corridor were my patients.

They took me first to our own flat. We were married 2 weeks prior to this and had just moved into this flat.  They started going through all our things, taking a whole lot of documents and books away, and helped themselves to our wedding photos. Then they went to Francis’ mother’s house and took away Francis’s things. Next they went to my parents’s house to search. It was in the late afternoon when I was finally taken to Whitley Detention Centre. I was made to change into canvas/linen prisoner’s clothes, and all my own clothes –  including my bra and watch were taken away. I was thumb-printed and had photographs taken with my prison number which was 116.  From there I was taken straight to interrogation.  It was hard to know how long I was interrogated, since there was no clock, and my own watch was taken away. But since there was about 9-12 change of shifts I must have been questioned initially for at least 72 hours. The interrogation was conducted by about 6 male officers with one female officer watching in each shift.

There was initial banging of tables and threat that they would throw the key away for ever, and no one can get me out. They accused me of being a communist and a terrorist! The room was cold and I was shivering. I was then given strong tea with sugar and no milk, which coupled with all the threats sent my heart rate thumping.

After what I thought must be the first 72 hours of continuous interrogation, I was taken to a small cell, no mattress, and the door shut. Lights were on. There was a small window in the door which was shut. As I sat on the cement floor, a Gurkha brought me rice wrapped in brown paper. There was one tiny fish, and I just could not eat anything. I was then taken to the toilet, but not allowed to close the door. By this time I was well and truly constipated. I just could not use the toilet with Gurkha soldiers standing guard at an open door. After that I was taken to an enclosed field and told to exercise for about 10 minutes.

Then I was taken back for interrogation by yet a new set of officers. I was given lots of blank paper and questioned about Francis. I must have spent a couple of days being questioned, and writing and re-writing pages on Francis – most of what I wrote I remember was trivial initially.  But later it was clear that what they were after was for me to implicate Francis as a terrorist. This I refused to do, as I know Francis was not. Then they put it to me that Francis had been lying and hiding things from me. They told me they had evidence to support their allegations, but could not show me.

After about another 48 hours I was taken back to my cell. This time I was given fried Hor Fun by my case officer, who told me that my boss, Mr J E Choo, the Head of Outram Road General Hospital had rung the head of the ISD asking what they wanted with me. Apparently he had recently operated on the head of the ISD. The late Mr J E Choo was Senior State Surgeon and extremely well respected. This phone call I suspect had improved my deal.

I was also given a mattress on the floor of my cell this time and told I was to sleep for two hours.  Once the door shut I burst into tears, but then stopped since I thought I could be watched, and it was stupid to cry. After this time when I was again taken out for interrogation, the officers seemed  friendly and polite, and advised  me that in order to save my marriage I should go to Europe  and persuade Francis to come back. They emphasized that apart from the shock of being suddenly picked up, I was treated well, and since I was able to go through with this, I should challenge Francis to go through this as well. I think they call it ”coming clean”.  Of the pages and pages I have written, I signed some of them. The officers explained that I was a reasonable middle class professional (division one officer) and they could talk to me without resorting to using force, and it was easy to work with me. But with labourers and workers they usually had to beat them up to get co-operation. They gave me the impression that I was sensible, co-operative, not a terrorist but misled by my husband, and they wanted to help Francis correct his “deviant” ways before he get into very deep waters! They also told me not to worry about the hospital since it was also part of the civil service as the ISD was, and they had applied for me to have a fortnight’s leave, so nobody would query where I went, and as few people should know that I have been “picked up” by the ISD as possible. I somehow never challenged them about my doctor colleagues, who saw me being taken away in broad daylight from the hospital.

When I was released a week later, it was surreal to see the metal gates of the detention centre closed behind me and getting into a taxi to go home! I knew that Francis had escaped to either Holland or London, and I had promised the ISD that I would go to Europe to talk to him. Despite all their assurances, I had made up my mind that I would not want Francis to come back to be interrogated, as I suspected he would be badly treated.  The ISD officers laughed when I became defensive at one point and told me that I should not worry since they would not beat me up -  Francis would see the bruises and make an issue of them, they told me.

So this is my brief account of an encounter with ISD. Apart from getting some information about  Francis, this arbitrary detention was not only unpleasant for me personally but a criminal waste of police resources and taxpayers’ money. Through this incident, I realised that despite being a division one civil servant, I could be put behind bars without charge, with no access to  the outside world and could have disappeared with no one knowing. I was fortunate to be arrested in the hospital during working hours, and my colleagues who saw the arrest had told Mr Choo, my boss and he chose to intervene. If I was arrested in the middle of the night from my home, and there were no witnesses, then I could have been locked up forever as the ISD threatened. Even now I frequently ask myself, what kind of society is this who treat her citizens in this way.”

Ang Swee Chai
5 August 2011
London

All of us were promised early release if we cooperated with an appearance on the state television.  Despite our full cooperation, (some of us had 2 or 3 recordings at the television station), many of us were not released after the 30 days of interrogation.

Tang Fong Har was  released with conditions on the recommendation of the Advisory Board on 12 September 1987. No reason was given for such a recommendation. Experiences of a number of former detainees show that members of the Advisory Board were not  interested in finding out whether we deserved detention without trial. They were only interested in our plans after release.

- Teo Soh Lung 

PRISONER:
AFTER my return to the detention centre from the TV filming, I was more psychologically prepared for my detention. However,  I still hoped against hope that I would be released after 30 days.

Alas, it was not to be. On July 19, at 9 p.m., I was led out of my cell. My heart thumped wildly. My case officer, in a most officious manner, served the copy of the allegations and the detention order on me. I read the allegations and almost had to suppress my mirthless laughter. I told my case officer that I was not a security threat and that they had no reason to detain me for 30 days, let alone a year. I was informed of my right to make representations. I signed the form stating that I wanted to do so. The air was charged with tension. My case officer asked whether there was anything I wanted. I told him that I wanted to return to my cell.

And so I sought refuge in my empty and dead cell. I cried a little that night. After my statements were written, I saw no reason to engage in polite conversation with them. I spoke relatively little, and on those occasions we touched on inconsequential topics. Sometimes, my case officer was absent and the female guard would stay with me in the room for some four hours; and then I would be sent back to my cell. I also played Scrabble and Uno and had a compendium of games.

I am a gregarious and sociable creature. I had always been surrounded by family and friends and had known nothing but love, warmth and friendship. Needless to say, solitary confinement was a terrible affliction. I received fairly frequent visits from some officers, notably S. K. Tan. He tried to engage me in conversation and tried to probe my reasons for filing representations before the Advisory Board, scheduled for hearing on August 15.

I refused to be provoked into commenting on the case or into revealing what transpired between my lawyer, Soh Gim Chuan, and myself during our meetings. They also probed into the nature of his practice and whether he charged me any professional fee. S.K. Tan has now turned into a welfare officer and was most concerned that my stay should be as cosy as possible within ISD’s limits.

I was enticed with my favourite foods and was allowed to watch TV programmes, as selected by them. I responded negatively to their overtures. On one occasion, I asked S. K. Tan why he had slapped me during the interrogation. He told me that I was mistaken. I had moved back and lost my balance. I said nothing, but my eyes told him that what he had said was balderdash.

Days became weeks and I sang whatever came into my mind and I sang loudly. The warden on duty ticked me off several times. I read books and, being a fast reader, I would finish the five books, which Peter brought each week. I sometimes read them three times.

I tried to keep myself busy by scrubbing the cell walls and floor. I also became acutely aware of God’s little creatures (ants, mosquitoes, centipedes, lizards, cockroaches, spiders etc), the sun, moon and the tree in front of my cell.

They tried to rehabilitate me with pep talks laced with threats. They kept saying that I could start life anew with Peter and put everything behind me. I refused to be indoctrinated by them.

Until my representations were over, I was very tense and the stress and strain accumulated in my neck, which became very stiff. The day of the hearing of the representations arrived. The High Court judge, Justice Sinnathuray, together with two Chinese males in their late 40s or early 50s, presided over the hearing, which was held in the judge’s chambers. The other two did not introduce themselves and barely spoke or moved throughout the whole proceedings.

A case officer, Lim Poh Quee, a female police guard and the driver of the car accompanied me. The judge was cordial to me. He hardly interrupted my lawyer when he went through my representations. He seemed exasperated only at one point. When queried on my future plans, I told him that I would get a job and continue my flat hunting and, if I was free, interested and approached, help in the election campaign of  opposition candidates. He told me that that was what had got me into trouble in the first place and that politics should be left to the politicians. He again questioned me on my future plans and turned to look at my lawyer. My lawyer then submitted that further representations would be made on this point by Monday, August 17.

I could not gauge the outcome of the hearing but somehow it did not matter too much now. My stiff neck disappeared and I felt the tension rolled away.

Psychologically and emotionally, I coped better with detention in solitary confinement. Life took on a ‘more pleasant’ turn. I started my Chinese lessons. I would also sing for about an hour at least twice a day. My audience comprised God’s little creatures, the warden on duty and, definitely, my immediate neighbours, – Wong Souk Yee (president of the Third Stage, detained in May 1987) and Low Yit Leng (manager of a printing firm, also detained in May 1987). My reading continued.

At other times, I would be let out of my cell for ‘rehabilitation’ sessions during which the female police guard on duty would while away the time discussing such weighty matters as skin-care, make-up and the like. We also indulged in healthy gossip.

Some days I would be left in my cell – once, for four days. I would usually read till I felt drowsy and fall asleep while reading. It was unbearably hot in the afternoons – the cell was like a furnace and I practically oozed perspiration.

I could not wait for the afternoon to end each day. I tried to reduce the temperature by dousing the cell with water at noon. I had dreams but I could not remember them. I exercised regularly. Once in a while, I would execute a judo-like kick on the walls.

One fine day, I was told that Suan would be my cellmate. I had become accustomed to living on my own, but when she came, I began to enjoy my meals more. We became keener students in our study of Chinese. Since she was more proficient than me, I consulted her frequently. We sang more and our repertoire increased.

Life was certainly “bearable” with the exception of the three square meals dished out to us each day.

“FREEDOM”:
On September 11, at 9 p.m., I was called out of our cell alone. We were adamant that we should leave the cell together, but it was not to be. I was taken to the ‘rehabilitation’ room; my case officer was the purveyor of the ‘good news’.

He impressed upon me that I had been treated fairly, if not well. I stuck to my position that if I talked to the press, I would say ‘no comment’ to their queries.

Various people came in at different times. They repeated my case officer’s words, adding that I had to be very careful what I said to the press as this would affect the release of those still inside. They told me that they were sure that I would not want to jeopardise the release of the remaining detainees.

They also threatened that if I did not keep out of trouble, they would not hesitate to take me in again, and next time they would let me rot. I was not allowed to consult my lawyer and family in respect of the three conditions attached to the Suspension Direction.

These pep talks interspersed with threats went on for some time, and I was then allowed to return to the cell. I literally stank of smoke and Suan guessed that I had met top ISD officers.

Although I was not told when I would be released, it was the next day that I left. Suan and I were sad to leave each other. They refused to say anything about her release or that of the others, and my request to see them was also rejected. Suan sang a farewell song to me and I yelled goodbye to my neighbours.

After Suan and I hugged each other, I walked out of the detention centre with Peter and my parents. It was 4 p.m. on September 12. I had been detained for 85 days.

I felt happy to see my loved ones, but my steps out of the blue gate were not brisk. I had left a part of me inside. I have learnt to treasure justice and freedom even more.

I shall not rest until my friends are released. Our entrenched rights are not mere privileges, removable at the arbitrary whims and fancies of the powers-that-be.

By Tang Fong Har

Tang Fong Har was one of the six arrested on 20 June 1987. The other five were Chew Kheng Chuan (K C Chew), Chng Suan Tze and three young Polytechnic students, Ronnie Ng, Fan Wan Peng and Nur Effendi. A day before, 10 of the 16 arrested on 21 May 1987  were served with  one-year detention orders while Vincent Cheng was served with a two year detention order.

I have often wondered why Fong Har was arrested. She had not been an active member of any organisation. Being new in the legal profession, she worked very hard and had no time for anything else. During interrogation, ISD officers told her that they were not interested in her work in the Law Society or the help she rendered to Mr Corera of the Workers’ Party during the 1984 general election. After reading her account, my conclusion is that she was arrested because she had spoken to veteran lawyer, the late J B Jeyaretnam and human rights organisations like Amnesty International soon after the arrests on 21 May 1987. That was exactly the reason for the arrest of Patrick Seong in 1988 when he disseminated information to human rights organisations after the rearrest of eight signatories to the joint statement. In the 1980s, the ISD and the PAP government were exceedingly intolerant of criticisms and human rights advocates.

- Teo Soh Lung

PART 2
INTERROGATION:
I FELT really frightened, cold, angry and sleepy. It was the longest night in my life. After my ‘medical’ examination, I was led out of the room and down a passage. After some turns, I reached a door, which opened onto a flight of stairs leading to the basement.

As I walked, without my glasses, I heard noises everywhere. I was approached several times by different men, each of whom said in a haughty manner, “So you are Tang Fong Har’” and then walked off. The basement was pitch-black except for the glaring lights. I was led into a room.

It was very dark except for the two spotlights. It was filled with cigarette smoke – there seemed to be about seven or eight people there. The air-conditioning was very strong, and the floor was bare concrete. I felt cold and fearful.

After what seemed an eternity of eerie silence, a voice boomed – “So, Tang Fong Har, at last you are here.” Then there began a series of questions and outrageous allegations. I could not hear properly as I was disoriented and I was not allowed to wear my glasses.

The hurling of questions, allegations, and loud noises went on for some time. I was so stupefied that I kept quiet. When I felt that I could not keep quiet anymore, I told them I needed my glasses as they affected my hearing. My glasses were then returned. I saw four people seated at the table. Two or three other people were standing nearby in sports jackets, shoes and socks. Barefoot and in prison garb, I felt humiliated and very cold. I was shivering and I tried very hard to stop my teeth from chattering but I could not, and the interrogators just watched me as I was in near-spasms trying to control the cold.

At one point during the interrogation I was threatened with indefinite detention and asked whether I intended to emulate Chia Thye Poh. They warned me that if I chose to remain quiet, they could wait for 20 years or more, just as they had waited for Chia Thye Poh.

I refused to believe them but somehow my heart went cold. I felt I could not stay in this place for another minute, let alone 20 years. I also felt immense admiration for Chia Thye Poh. The male interrogator throughout made snide remarks about lawyers and the legal profession and belittled my work in the Law Society. In the midst of the accusations being hurled at me, I retorted “Now, look here…” or words to that effect. I never completed my sentence: one of the interrogators slapped me across my left cheek, not with a flick of his wrist but with the full force of his body. I fell to the ground and my glasses landed on my chest. I was completely shocked by the assault and wished that I could faint as I felt that I could not take any more. I had never felt more humiliated in my life.

The female Chinese then made a show of helping me to stand and said something like “It’s ok. Take it easy. Why don’t you co-operate?” I can’t remember whether the interrogator who slapped me remained in the room after that. However, I remember his face and subsequently I came to know his name: S. K. Tan.

I was then questioned on my ‘escape’ from Singapore on May 21 and my whereabouts from then until my return on June 8. I also had to account for my movements since my return. They assured me that I had not been arrested because of my work in the Law Society or for helping Mr Corera, the Workers’ Party candidate for the Alexandra constituency in the 1984 general election. However, I was not informed about the allegations and charges against me until the detention order was served on me. The questions/statements/allegations went on for some hours. Every time I went to the lavatory, I vomited and I felt even colder when I returned. I had looked at myself in the toilet mirror and I was a ghastly sight.

This was the first time in public that I was bra-less and I stooped whenever I walked so as to hide my breasts. My posture was a semi-permanent curve soon after. I could not stop the trembling. I vomited countless times, and by the morning of the third day I had my period and I stained the prison pants.

I continued vomiting until the fourth day, by which time I felt quite famished. I had never felt more terrible in my life. Some 10 hours later, I was led out of the basement and into one of the rooms off the passage, and was given a chair.

My case officer, David Ng, sat opposite me and we started talking. While we discussed my statements, other officers like S. K. Tan, a Benny Lim (allegedly number 3 in the ISD), Lim Poh Quee and Sim Poh Heng would walk in individually at different times to ‘clarify’ certain points.

Before my arrest, I had settled in my mind that statements extracted from me or any other detainee in this farcical operation were invalid and of no probative value. They could never stand up to scrutiny in a court of law. I had done nothing subversive and I was not disloyal to Singapore. It is as much my country as it is the rulers’.  Should I keep quiet and let them deal with me as they wished? I decided to write; but I feel, with hindsight, that I was sometimes careless in describing events and people and what I wrote was twisted – and I ‘incriminated’ people, those already detained and those not yet arrested, in my effort to protect them.

I was never given the chance to write the statements in my own way. When I first started, I had barely finished two pages when my case officer looked through them and said, “That won’t do, Fong Har, you are describing one activity after another. The flavour doesn’t come out, Fong Har, you understand?”

I understood perfectly and I learnt to take the cue from him. I started writing only when he was satisfied. The writing drained me. I felt very exhausted and I just wanted to finish with it, the sooner the better. I was then told about the TV appearance. Initially, I refused to appear; but I was told that Chew Kheng Chuan (KC), a printer and one of the six detained on 20 June 1987 and Chng Suan Tze, a lecturer at the Singapore Polytechnic, also one of the six detained on June 20, 1987, would appear, and so I agreed.

Some three days before the television appearance, my case officer typed out a summary of what I had to say and made me memorise it. On the day, when we reached the ISD bungalow near Tanglin Park, my case officer took away my summary. The filming took about 90 minutes. Khamaruddin, theSingapore Broadcasting Corporation interviewer, only asked me one question and I rattled on. When I had finished, he looked at me and asked how I felt now. This question was unexpected and I was at a complete loss for words.

There was a pregnant pause; and I ended up by saying that if unwittingly I had done a disservice to Singapore, I felt bad about it. I heaved a sigh of relief when the microphone was removed. My dress was drenched with perspiration.

I then remembered that I had not talked about the Third Stage (a theatre group accused of subversion). My case officer presumably had studied the summary and realised the omission, too, and I then had to talk about the Third Stage.

Suan joined me. I felt so happy to see a friend that I hugged her. Then KC joined us. I was delighted to see him too. We were made to sit together with Khamaruddin and ‘donkey shots’ were taken of us to give the impression to the public that Khamaruddin had conducted the interview with the three of us together.

We were allowed to talk to each other, and ISD officers (Benny and KC’s officer) joined us. Before they joined us, Suan told us that she would be detained for two years at least, as she had told Khamaruddin that she did not believe in the alleged Marxist conspiracy before her arrest, and after her arrest she had found it even more difficult to believe.

After they joined us, KC told Benny about it and asked if Suan could re-do that part. Benny assured her that it was all right if that was what she believed. He also said that it would not affect her chances of release in any way. We were brought back to the detention centre in different cars.

They used a variety of methods to intimidate me and to make me feel guilty. I was made to feel ashamed of my past and consequently, ashamed of my present lifestyle.

By Tang Fong Har

Tang Fong Har, a young lawyer was one of 22 people arrested in 1987 and imprisoned without trial under the Internal Security Act.  16 people were arrested in a pre dawn raid  carried out by the ISD  on 21 May 1987. Another  6, including Fong Har were arrested on 20 June 1987. 

Fong Har was released with conditions after three months. One of the conditions was that she could not travel abroad without the approval of the director of ISD.

On 18 April 1988, she together with eight former detainees issued a joint statement denying the government’s allegations against them.  The following day, all eight were re-detained. As Fong Har was then in England, she was “spared”.  She courageously campaigned for the release of all her friends, appearing on BBC as well as giving press conferences. Not wanting to be re-detained like all her friends, she remained abroad, thus breaching one of the conditions for her release. Fong Har has not returned to Singapore for the past 23 years. She now lives in Hong Kong.

The account below was written by Fong Har soon after the rearrest of her friends in April 1988. Save for some minor editing, I reproduce it in full. As it is a long narrative, I will reproduce it in three parts.

Part 1
The arrest
It was Saturday, June 20, 1987. I had finished two office files in preparation for Monday. It was almost 12.30 a.m. and Peter, my husband, was already asleep.

We were staying in a semi-detached single-storey house that belonged to a friend. We were both very tired and tense since 16 people (including my friends) were arrested on 21 May 1987.

I had met lawyer and opposition leader Mr J B Jeyaretnam for tea at the Subordinate Courts canteen on Wednesday, June 17. I had met two Amnesty International officials on Thursday evening, June 18, and I just had dinner with two friends on the night of 19 June.

I went to bed at about 1 a.m. At slightly before 2 am, very loud banging on the glass door woke me. Still half asleep, I thought the noise might go away, but I heard it again, noises outside the house. I woke Peter and he went to the door.

I saw flashing lights and some people outside. One of them said that they were searching for illegal immigrants and showed his badge. He also said that he was from Joo Chiat Police Station. I felt fear and knew that they were Internal Security Department (ISD) officers.

Peter opened the door and let in the four officers, three Chinese males and one female. He carried a sack. Once inside, a Chinese in his early 40s asked whether I was Tang Fong Har. I nodded, and he told me that I was under arrest under the Internal Security Act.

Though it was not totally unexpected, I was nevertheless stunned and speechless. He warned us not to move. The others then systematically searched the house – the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the kitchen and the living room. I did not see them searching the garden.

The man who had spoken to us stood near us all the while. Peter asked him, “Doesn’t she have any rights?” He looked at Peter in a funny way and the rest laughed cynically. The search took some 40 minutes. They seized my address-book, file of news cuttings and articles on the May 21 arrests, some copies of the minutes of the Law Society Criminal Legal Aid Scheme and AWARE (Association of Women for Action and Research) meetings.

When the time came for me to be taken away, I told Peter not to worry about me and to contact my family and lawyer. His face was expressionless. He did not raise his voice at all, and neither did I. I was led to a car, my glasses were removed and I was blindfolded and driven off.

When the car stopped, my blindfold was removed and my glasses were handed to me. I realised that I was in the carpark of the block of flats my parents lived in. They escorted me to my parents’ flat and conducted another search. I pleaded with them not to disturb my family, in particular my parents. My pleas fell on deaf ears.

The search was futile, and I could see that my family was in a state of panic, angry, bewildered and helpless. Then I was again led to the car, my glasses were removed and I was blindfolded. The reaction of my family members affected me.

When I reached the Whitley Road Detention Centre (I found out where I was only when my lawyer visited me), my blindfold was removed, but my glasses were not returned to me. I kept telling myself – do not panic, do not worry, but what’s happening, where am I, what is this place, where are the others and how are they, how are my husband, my parents, my siblings and friends?

I was then ordered by the female Chinese officer to remove my clothes, underwear and shoes and put on a set of prison clothes. After that, I was led into another room where a male Chinese took four sets of my fingerprints. My glasses were returned to me and I was ordered to sit on a chair while two photographers took about six shots of me. It was like something out of the film Midnight Express. I felt I was a condemned criminal.

The female Chinese and a Gurkha guard then escorted me to what looked like a poorly equipped medical room, where I was ordered to lie on the bed; and a male Sikh (after my release I found out he was Dr Naranjan Singh, the head of the Prison Medical Unit). He examined me, took my pulse, looked at my tongue and eyes, and asked whether I had any medical problems, had been to the hospital or was pregnant. I replied in the negative very vigorously as I was worried that he might inject some drugs or prescribe some medicine, which would affect my mental and/or physical faculties adversely.

By Tang Fong Har

There is also no record of people who left Singapore because they threatened with arrest under the ISA.

According to The Straits Times of 28 October 1956, 234 people were detained under the PPSO. Only 89 of the 234 people are listed below.

Hansard of February 1963 listed 110 people detained on 2 February 1963 (Operation Cold Store). In the list below, 121 persons were detained on that day. It is not clear if the names in Hansard excluded those arrested, interrogated and released before the issue of a detention order i.e. within 30 days of arrest as permitted by the ISA.

The Straits Times of 28 May 1976 reported the arrest of 50 people. Only 27 people are located in the list.

We hope a Truth and Reconciliation Commission will one day determine who and why people were arrested under the ISA.

List of ISA Detainees since 1954:
ISADetainees final

In this workshop over 2 evening sessions, Ron Fujiyoshi (a community organiser with 4 decades of international CO experience) shares with you the history and major principles of community organisation with pertinent examples from his work in the US, Malaysia, Thailand, Japan and Singapore, He will also talk about the experience of community organisation in Singapore in the late 60′s and early 70′s when he was the director of the Jurong Industrial Mission (JIM). The workshop is highly participative with a variety of learning methodologies including lectures, group exercises, and individual reflections.

Check out the attached flyer and register for the workshop now if you want to learn more about community organisation.

How should I begin?
Should I start from the traumas of the raid
How liberty was so capriciously enchained
Without a warrant, without warning
On the dark hours
When even dogs slept undisturbed.

You were hauled into a world ran amok:
The mug shots, ‘turn out your pockets’
the thumb and fingers impressions
(Whatever for, I commit no crime!).
No one bothered,
The guard shoved you on,

Along the corridor of despair;
That first heavy thud of the iron door
Sealing you incommunicado from the world –
The wind, sun, moon, and the stars
And all that was human and dear

Should I recall the dark cell
At Central Police Station[1]
A purgatory of perpetual night
The stone slab for the bed
Sullied, soiled mattress, no sheets
The pillow of tears and stains, no cover
Blood smeared walls, cries of past agonies
The rude, cruel hourly rip-rap of the shutters
“To check your health”,
So it was explained.

Should I narrate
The daily bath at the tap
The squat pan, dank and putrid
Meant to dehumanize, humiliate

Should we be thankful
For the daily ditch water
Which passed for tea
The stony crumbs for bread
The rice so callously tossed with dust
Should we be grateful
For the censored books and news,
To decontaminate our minds;
Should we be grateful too
For the unbearable heat
The lonely insomnia of the day and night,
Migraine and diarrhoeic fever
And panadol as panacea?

How could I ever forget those Neanderthals
Who roamed Whitley Holding Centre, [2]
Under cover of darkness,
Poured buckets of ice water
Over my stripped, shivering nakedness,
Slugged my struggling, painful agony
Circling , sneering, snarling
Over my freezing nudity,
More animals than men:
What induced this
Vengeful venom, violent score
To settle, not for a private grievance
But a public, democratic dissidence;
From whence sprang this barbarity?
What made men turn into beasts
In the dark, away from prying eyes,
Protected by a code of dishonour and lies
To ensure they survive and rise.

For sure, there were gentler souls
Who tried to be decent, no more:
The smiling guard who lightened the hours
With a chance remark, a joke
The barber who brought his scissors, cigarettes and news
The interrogator who handed a bible
Told him the elegant prose
Contrasted strangely with my current state,
How distant those beautiful thoughts were
From the violence to our liberty.

What then is the truth ?
A generation trapped in lies
Who rushed to defend, to justify
Never to listen, see or speak out.
Only when we open our hearts
Confront this barbarism
Can we truly exorcise our fears,
Finally emerge as a free people,
A liberated society.

By Tan Jing Quee *
1939 – 2011

[1] Formerly at South Bridge Road, now demolished, which had several cells frequently used for interrogation of police prisoners, from a month to a year, before they were dispatched to normal prison conditions at Changi Prison.

[2] A relatively new detention center built in the 1970s located off Whitley Road, used to hold political prisoners for short and medium term, mainly for interrogation .

* Our Thoughts Are Free Poems and Prose on Imprisonment and Exile Edited by Tan Jing Quee Teo Soh Lung Koh Kay Yew Ethos Books Singapore (www.ethosbooks.com.sg)

CHIA Thye Poh, a willowy, softly spoken, 57-year-old bachelor, leads a quiet, simple life these days in a spartan third-storey flat on one of Singapore’s sprawling suburban public housing estates, dutifully looking after his elderly parents, both in their 80s.

He rarely goes out or sees anyone. He is poor-sighted, suffers from prostate and lung problems, a weak bladder and earns a meagre living of just a few hundred Singapore dollars a week working as a freelance translator from home.

Yet, for the past three decades, this very same man has been branded by the government a violent communist revolutionary and a threat to national security. On Friday, after 32 years of stubbornly protesting his innocence, Mr Chia was finally restored his full rights as a Singapore citizen.

Mr Chia spent 22 years, six months, two weeks and four days in jail, mostly in solitary confinement, until 1989 – becoming the world’s second longest serving prisoner-of-conscience after South Africa’s Nelson Mandela. The 9 1/2 years after his release were spent under severe restrictions.

“The best years of my life were taken away just like that without a charge or trial,” says Mr Chia, having had his right to talk to the press finally restored. Tears swell in his eyes as he contemplates his lost chance of marrying and raising a family. “I’m getting old.”

Mr Chia was detained on October 29, 1966 under Singapore’s Internal Security Act (ISA), the same draconian law remnant from British colonial days in Malaya, used recently in Malaysia to controversially detain former Deputy Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim.

For 19 years, the government gave no explanation for Mr Chia’s detention. When one finally came in 1985, Mr Chia was accused of having led a call for the revival of armed struggle.

At the time of his detention, Mr Chia had been a raw and ready 25-year-old novice member of parliament for the Barisan Sosialia (Socialist Front) opposition party. He entered full-time politics almost by default.

Having graduated in physics, he worked for a short time as a secondary school teacher, before returning to Nanyang University as a graduate assistant. His ambition was to travel abroad to study a masters in physics.

February 2, 1963, was the day that changed his life. The Singapore government, headed by a then more youthful Lee Kwan Yew, carried out the arrest of about 100 political activists fearful of a communist insurgency.

Elections were due to be held in September that year, so Mr Chia became one of a number of socialist-minded graduates who came forward to replace those arrested as candidates. Mr Chia insists his views were not communist, but anti-colonialist. He wanted to fight for a “fair, just independence” from Britain.

However, he shot to fame when banned permanently from entering Malaysia after allegedly making a speech at a conference held by the pro-communist Perak division of the Labour Party of Malaysia on April 24, 1966.

Shortly before his arrest later that year, Mr Chia and other Barisan MPs quit the Singapore parliament to allegedly organise street demonstrations, strikes and protest meetings in the republic, seen as further evidence of his alleged communist tendencies.

Mr Chia recalls things differently. He claims he ran into trouble with the authorities after Singapore’s then Prime Minister Mr Lee and his ruling People’s Action Party (PAP) suddenly announced Singapore’s split from the Malaya Federation in 1965. “The separation was never discussed in parliament. There was no referendum. We protested and asked for a convening of parliament,” Mr Chia recalls.

To drive their point home, Mr Chia says he and a small number of other like-minded MP’s staged a boycott. At the same time, the Vietnam War was raging and Mr Chia says he was among the peace campaigners calling for an end to the heavy American bombing of Indo-China. “We wanted peace. If the war escalated, it probably would have spilled over to the rest of the region.” He insists to this day he was a peace campaigner, not an insurgent for the Vietnamese communists or Red China.

When Nelson Mandela was finally released from jail in 1989 after much international outcry, the world spotlight turned temporarily on Mr Chia, who until then had been comparatively a forgotten man. After several months of foreign pressure, the Singapore authorities part-relented.

But rather than granting his freedom like Mr Mandela, he was placed under internal exile on Sentosa Island where he spent the next 3.5 years leading a Kafka-esque lifestyle. He was forced to live in a one-room former guardhouse on the small island just south of the city and placed under severe restrictions. He was made to pay rent and buy and prepare his own food in the pretence that he was a free man. He had no money, so the government offered him a job as assistant curator of Sentosa Fort, a position he turned down because as a grade two civil servant he would not have been able to talk to the media without official approval. “It would have been another muzzle,” Mr Chia says.

Instead, he negotiated a position as a freelance translator for the Sentosa Development Corporation (SDC), a position he still holds. “At that time, Sentosa was not inhabited,” Mr Chia recalls. “There were only some youth hostels. There were no hotels.”

While Mr Chia sat in his one-room guardhouse the SDC built a giant Disney-style theme park around him. He was allowed to move freely within the island and receive visitors, but millions of day-trippers came-and-went over the years unaware they were missing out on the star attraction.

In 1990 and 1992, his restrictions were gradually relaxed to allow him to visit the Singapore mainland daily and subsequently reside with his parents. He believes intervention by former German chancellor Helmut Schmidt may have helped.

In November last year, his restrictions were relaxed further to allow him to travel abroad, change his address or look for a new job without prior written permission from the director of the Internal Security Department.

He subsequently left for a year in Germany with Singapore government approval on the invitation of the Hamburg Foundation for Persons Persecuted for Political Reasons, where he studied democratic politics and German.

He returned to Singapore in August this year to undergo a prostate operation. But until last Friday, he still needed written approval to make public statements, address public meetings or take part in any political activity, at home or overseas. Of course, if he had applied, this would have been automatically refused.

He could not make contact with any political activists or former political detainees. He could not even belong to any organisation, not even a chess club.

Chandra Muzaffar, a political science professor at the University of Malaya, says: “It is a damning indictment on the Singapore Government to have held a chap for all those years and then when finally releasing him issue all those restrictions. It was such an inhuman thing to do to incarcerate him for so long.”

Mr Chia resents comparisons to Nelson Mandela. He points out that Mr Mandela, who became South Africa’s president, had belonged to a banned party, had mass following, was charged in court and given a life sentence. “He got out of prison and became a free man straight away,” he says. “I should have been set free long, long ago. From the very beginning if they had found I had done anything wrong they should have charged me in court and offered me a chance to defend myself.”

The Singapore government has justified its marathon stranglehold on Mr Chia with his refusal to renounce violence. Asked why he never took this option, Mr Chia says: “To renounce violence is to imply you advocated violence before. If I had signed that statement I would not have lived in peace.”

At the same time, while in jail, Mr Chia bizarrely never sought to appear before the advisory board set up under the ISA to challenge the reasons for his detention.

Home Affairs Minister Wong Kan Seng explained to parliament in July that trials of Communist Party members used to be impossible because the party intimidated and liquidated witnesses who gave evidence in court.

While in detention, his captors are said to have taunted Mr Chia by driving him around the city-state showing him how fast Singapore was developing. Just sign this little piece of paper, they said, and you can be part of these exciting new developments. When he refused, Mr Chia claims he was told he could rot in jail.

“I told them, ‘yeah it is clean and green,’ but they should let me out so I can talk to people to ask them what they thought first and let them comment.”

It is unclear what triggered the sudden lifting of Mr Chia’s restraining orders last week. The sceptics suggest it could be because Singapore is due to host a human rights convention in a month’s time when Mr Chia’s plight was due to be raised.

Bruce Gale, Political and Economic Risk Consultancy (Perc) manager for Southeast Asia, has another theory.

“Malaysia and Indonesia are not on best of terms with Singapore. So Singapore has to rely more and more on the United States [for military protection]. The US is being very vocal in Malaysia [about human rights and the ISA]. What the Singaporeans are effectively saying is we are not like that. We do not detain people without trial anymore. This is a gesture of goodwill. Not that the Americans asked for it.”

Mr Chia insists no deal was struck. In fact, he says he informed the Internal Security Department officer who notified him of the lifting of his restriction orders he was still interested in politics.

The government responded by issuing a statement on Friday warning that if Mr Chia should engage in activities prejudicial to Singapore’s security he would be dealt with firmly under the law.

While keen to re-involve himself in politics, Mr Chia says he needs time to re-familiarise himself with life, people and issues.

“Things will have to go on slowly,” he says. “After 32 years in prison and under detention, things have changed. I have to see what I can contribute after so many years.”

He accepts he has to cope with premature old age and sees himself more as a follower than leader of any political party. “I am not an ambitious man. I live a very simple life. You get used to it after so many years.”

His eyesight is impaired from many years in a darkened cell. His lung problem, now stabilised, stems from the same time. As we chat, he frequently gets muddled, referring to recent events as having taken place in 1966, the year he was detained.

Joshua Jeyaretnam, leader of Singapore’s small parliamentary opposition movement, says: “He is hardly a violent revolutionary. He is a soft-spoken man and doesn’t look like a fighter.”

Mr Chia’s Barisan party merged with Mr Jeyaretnam’s Workers’ Party in the early 90s. Perc’s Mr Gale says: “I don’t think the Singaporeans are risking very much. He could join an opposition political party. He has said he is still interested in politics. But opposition in Singapore has been rather muted since the last [general] elections.”

Mr Chia is not sure whether he will join the Workers’ Party. However, asked what his political beliefs are today, he is unrelenting. “I feel there should be a fair, just, democratic society. Down-trodden people, low-income people should be helped.”

His first action after restrictions were lifted on Friday was to issue a stern public statement condemning the ISA and demanding its repeal.

Asked whether he holds any grudges against Singapore’s Senior Minister and former veteran prime minister Mr Lee and his People’s Action Party which has held an iron grip on power in Singapore since independence in 1957, Mr Chia said: “I have no personal grudge against anybody.

“My main concern is the policy [of detention without trial], because if the policy is not fair, many people will suffer.”

Published in the South China Morning Post. Nov 30, 1998