Part 26: A first-hand account of life in detention in Singapore’s draconian ISA

A narrative about injustice: ISD psychologist: Singaporeans are not smart enough to discuss politics

A continuation of Zulfikar’s account of life under Singapore’s ISA

Politics was never far from our discussions.

Tim initially tried to claim that my detention did not have anything to do with my criticism of the PAP. Almost a year into my detention, I was told “You are not here because you were a thorn in the government’s side. But there is a Chinese saying “If you stand by the river long enough, you will see the dead bodies of your enemies floating by.” I am not sure if he meant I was his enemy or the PAP’s enemy.

The discussion on politics however, was premised on not discussing it. Throughout the 4 years and 4 months, the main discussions the psychologists and ISD officers had with me were about not discussing politics.

I was warned repeatedly against trying to challenge the “status quo”. Hafiz argued that Singaporeans did not discuss politics.

“No, we keep quiet. We only vote during elections. We don’t get involved. We keep quiet” he said, while cupping his hand over his mouth.

“Like if you buy a Honda. If there is a problem with the car, why would you say anything? You keep quiet” he continued.

“No, if you buy a Honda and if there is a problem, you should say something. If there is a factory fault, it may be the same for others” I argued.

The main argument he made was that Singaporeans were not smart enough. Because they were not smart enough, they would misunderstand my arguments and cause chaos.

“If 50% of Singaporeans have university degree then you can talk. Now they are not smart. We have what? 25% university graduates?” he asked while looking at Roslinda as though looking for confirmation. “If you talk politics they will misunderstand and cause trouble” he continued.

I spent the first two years of detention having such political discussions with Hafiz. “Let me ask you this” I said to him. “In a democracy, where is the source of power?”

“With the people” he reasoned.

“Exactly. How are the people supposed to use their power if they don’t discuss issues? How will they apply their power if they don’t know what is going on?”

According to Hafiz, the only legitimate place to criticise Singapore politics was in academic books. Krishnan however said I did not have to write academic books: journal articles would do. These journals would not read by most Singaporeans.

One thing I appreciate about Hafiz however, is that he was direct. He admitted that he wanted me to stop discussing politics. He readily labelled the PAP government as “authoritarian.” When I referred to Singapore as an “illiberal democracy” he laughed because he had never heard the term before. When I asked him and Roslinda if they were both PAP, Roslinda kept quiet while Hafiz nodded his head vigorously.

As much as they demanded that I not discuss politics or to adopt realism rather than constructivism, I could not do it. At first, I took their demands as supplementary to my detention. I tried to hold on to the official allegation: their accusation that I supported ISIS or terrorism. I knew that the officers relayed their discussions with me to their department. I used whatever discussions we had to reiterate the fact that I had never supported ISIS. The ISD officers knew I did not support violence. They had alluded to that repeatedly. And they knew that the statements I signed were their statements not mine.

I brought up the fact that the statements were false repeatedly. Early during the interrogation period, as Tim demanded I sign the statements they crafted, I told him that 30-50% of the statements were false. Tim asked me why they were false.

“Because that is not how I think” I replied. As usual, he smiled.

Later, the false statements became more dominant. I said to Iqbal that 50% of the statements were false. The only true information on every statement were my name, identity card number and signature.

In July 2017, I met with the Advisory Board (AB) for the second time. For this meeting, Eugene and Suang were with me. The “scowl face” AB member asked me:

“You said you love Singapore! Then why did you want to have a jihad camp against Singapore.” (Read here on the “jihad” camp)

I was shocked and upset. I had accepted that the statement on “jihad camp” that Tim forced me to sign was used to justify my detention. But I had hoped that the ISD would have retracted it. I did not have any indication that they would. It was just a hope or expectation of fairness.

I had also expected that the statements I was forced to sign a year earlier would not be used anymore. The statements were supposed to justify the initial detention, not its continuation.

I turned to Eugene. “Should I tell them the truth about what happened?” I asked him.

“No, just tell them what you really feel.”

Eugene had advised me against antagonising the ISD. They had absolute power and if I antagonised them, they could simply keep me in detention and make things worse.

I told the AB the basis of my political beliefs. “I believe that every society has the right to determine for itself its own socio-political system. These systems cannot be imposed on them.”

At hindsight, it appeared as though I did not answer their question directly. I had wanted to tell the AB what happened. I wanted to tell them about the Fardhu Ain camp. I wanted to tell them about the threats on my family, on the demand that I signed the false statements. That if my response was different from their assessment then the ISD would accuse me of being deceptive and I would be detained.

I wanted to tell them that I was told to accept the false statements first and that I could tell the truth at the AB. That they would give me reams and reams of paper to tell the truth. (Read here)

I wanted to tell the AB that I was not allowed to have a lawyer for the first AB. That I was not allowed to take the notes I had written. That I was told to repeat what I signed during interrogation. That they told me they would know what I said at the AB.

I wanted to tell them that the jihad camp never existed. That I had never even thought of such a plan. That it was a fiction that Tim and the ISD created.

I could not directly reject the accusation. I thought about how flawed the system was. Anyone arrested by the ISD would be forced to agree with everything the ISD demanded. And we could not speak against them. As Tim and Ong had warned me, they would know what I said to the AB.

I agreed with Eugene’s advice that if I spoke against the ISD, they could make things worse for me. I know that they would extend my detention, make the conditions worse, target my family. And there was nothing that anyone could do. I thought about women who were battered by their husbands and told to make a report against him.

Only to be forced to return home to her abuser after making the report.

The only way I could answer was obliquely. I could not tell the AB that there never was a plan for a jihad camp since that would show that the statement was false. So, I referred to my political philosophy that every society had the right to its own system.

The meeting upset me. When I met with Tim, I told him about it and how I was deeply offended by the question.

“There never was a jihad camp” Tim admitted.

“Of course not!” I snapped. “You were the one who forced me to sign it!”

Tim kept quiet and then discussed other matters.

A few weeks later, on 31st July 2017, Tim met me with an Indian Muslim officer in his mid 50s.

“This is Iqbal” Tim introduced us. “He will be your rehabilitation officer.”
I realised then that I would not be released. Again.

“Make sure you don’t lie to him. You are here because you lied on the first day.”

Tim had kept to that line for the past year: “You are here because you lied on the first day.”

He claimed I was arrested because I lied when I said I did not support ISIS. His evidence that I lied were the subsequent statements he forced me to sign.

According to Tim, that was why he was forced to arrest me.

I was tired of that fiction and had ignored him every time he said it. But when he said it in front of Iqbal, I decided to show him his lies.

“According to the allegation of facts, I was detained because I radicalised two youths, right?” I asked him.

“That’s right” Tim agreed.

“You already knew about these two youths before you arrested me” I continued.

“Yes.”

“Ok. Since I was detained because of the two youths and you already knew about these two youths before you arrested me, you would have arrested me no matter what I said the first day.”

Tim looked uncomfortable and Iqbal laughed. “Let’s not talk about the past” Iqbal suggested.

Iqbal met with me twice a week for about 30 minutes each from then on. He kept telling me to forget what they did to me. Forget the fact that I was forced to make false confessions or that they threatened to arrest my family.

“Move forward” he said.
“No problem. But how do we move forward when you guys won’t admit what you did?”

“What do you want us to do?” he asked me.

“Apologise.”

He smiled and shook his head. “You want ISD to apologise?”

I learned that Iqbal was the same rank as Tim. DSP Iqbal Abdul Rahim.

There were three main things that Iqbal discussed with me: he was a Liverpool supporter and knew that I supported Manchester United. We talked soccer. He would make circuitous references to AlQaeda or ISIS and assessed my responses. But his main point was that I should not discuss politics.

Iqbal was not as direct as Hafiz. While Hafiz demanded I stop discussing politics, Iqbal would tell me that he did not “give a damn about the PAP.”

He said that whatever I thought about PAP was my right. But I should not criticise the government. He based his argument on the belief that the government knew better.

“What do you know? You only know theory” he would say repeatedly.

I was also told that I was getting old (I was 45) and had wasted my life discussing Singapore politics. That I had no right to discuss unless I had achieved material success. I should have focused on making money.

In January 2018, I was introduced to another officer, Superintendent Ajitpal Singh Amarjeet Singh. Iqbal told me Ajitpal was his supervisor.

In his first few meetings with me, Ajitpal instructed me: “don’t seek change.”

“If we did not change, we would still be colonised, women still can’t vote, there will still be slavery” I replied.

“Don’t seek change the way you seek it” he told me.

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