For every Singaporean Son

“Every boy and girl will learn what it means to be a Singaporean.” - Lee Kuan Yew, 1965

On the eve of her independence, Singapore stood alone. Along with a lack of natural resources, she lacked the natural geography in which to protect herself against an outside attack. Her only assets were her deep-water ports, strategic location in the Malacca Straits, human capital, and an indomitable “never say die” spirit. Surrounded by hostile states, all seeking to further assert their influence in Southeast Asia, Singapore faced a prescient need to shore up her defences, and fast. The experience of the Japanese Occupation and the failure of the British military to the colony of Singapore, had made it abundantly clear to the young state that nobody else could be depended upon to defend the island. Singaporeans alone would have to defend Singapore, no question about it.

A large armed force comparable to regional powers like Malaysia, Indonesia, or even pre-eminent global powers like Great Britain or the United States was impossible. Despite being one of the most densely populated countries on earth, Singapore was, and still is, a country with a small population. The only reasonable solution to the staffing problem was conscription. A need for significant human capital in the workforce also meant that this period of conscription would have to be reasonably short. Therefore, in 1967, the Singaporean parliament passed the National Service Act, signed into law by President Yusof Ishak. The act required all male citizens and permanent residents to enlist into the National Service, either into the Armed Forces (SAF), Police Force (SPF), or what would later come to be known as the Singapore Civil Defense Force (SCDF).

Today, National Service is still an important part of every Singaporean son’s life. Months, and in some cases, weeks after completing secondary education, young men are conscripted into service, with the majority entering the SAF. From then, they spend two years in active, full-time service. Upon their discharge, they become reservists, or Operationally Ready National Servicemen (ORNS). Reservists and ORNS can be called upon for 10 re-training cycles before the age of 40 (50 for officers). At that age, they are officially relieved of duty and become full time civilians. As a result of this mass conscription, Singapore now boasts an active military force of over 72,000, with an ability to mobilise roughly 1.5 million reservists should the need arise again, as it did in 1942 and in the early days of independence. While some do question whether today’s globalized world still demands conscription, there is no denying that National Service is a rite of passage for every Singaporean son. It is, as my father often likes to say, the great equaliser. Boys from every conceivable background come together, shave their heads, wear green, and all grow up to be men together.

I say all this as a Singaporean son myself. In October of 2015, I enlisted into the Singapore Army for National Service. I wish I could say I was enthusiastic about the prospect, but that would be a lie. The truth is, like many of my generation, I was hesitant about surrendering two years of my youth to serve what seemed like an arbitrary and draconian law. I would eventually come to appreciate my time in the army, but that would come much further down the road.

Basic training was difficult. The transition from civilian to soldier is not a natural one. It is designed, in every aspect, to break you down and build you back up. You learn to operate as part of a unit, as part of a team. Individualism is not conducive to mission success, being a team player is. As much as that sounds like empty machismo and exaggeration to establish my credentials, it is the unvarnished truth, and it is drilled into the head of every recruit from the minute they step onto the company line. That being said, I was rather fortunate with the company I was posted to. For that iteration of Basic Military Training (BMT), my company - 3rd Company, BMTC School 4 - was easily one of the most diverse companies at Basic Military Training Centre Pulau Tekong. My section commander was a half-Chinese Singaporean American who had come back from the United States specifically for National Service. My section consisted of three graduates of international schools – including yours truly — and the platoon housed at least 5 more international school students who had all answered the call of service. It might be an exaggeration to say I felt right at home amongst the plethora of outsiders, but it certainly was a comfort to know that there were others in my exact situation who would also face the same culture shock.

I was particularly unsuited for the physical demands of military service. I was overweight, I didn’t run particularly fast, and I lacked any form of functional, applicable strength. Somehow, I had managed to pass the initial physical test which exempted me from two months of physical training prior to the actual start of BMT. As the physical difficulty of training increased, the strain began to show, and before long, I was injured. During a route march (ruck march for you Americans), I found my legs in severe pain. A trip to an orthopaedist that weekend revealed partial tears in my right calf muscle – not enough to “cripple” me per se, but certainly enough to take me out of the more physically demanding training for a bit. I soon healed and returned to full training. Within a matter of weeks, I had passed BMT. One year and eight months to go.

I received a posting to B Company of the 4th Battalion, Singapore Infantry Regiment (4SIR) – the Eagles – after passing out from BMT, as an infantryman. Only two weeks in and my injury flared up again - this time putting me out of action for six months. I can’t say I was disappointed, but by that point, I did want to contribute to the company. My Sergeant Major took it upon himself to reassign me to the company store, where I worked as the quartermaster’s assistant and a field photographer. It was a unique privilege to be in the position that I was. I may not have dug fire trenches and carried heavy packs, but I did spend a fair share of my time in the trenches, sloshing through the mud with the combat-fit guys. While some did initially distrust me when I was reassigned, thinking I was malingering, they soon came to depend on my work. I realised very quickly that in my position in the quartermaster’s store, I would have to work twice as hard to prove myself and earn the respect of my peers. I’d like to think I did. They saw me working later and showing up earlier than my peers. They’d come to me for lost equipment or to fix faulty gear. Officers, NCOs, and enlisted men alike. My hard work eventually paid off. It certainly helped that I was often out in the field with everyone. Something about the presence of a camera and a reason to smile improved morale much more than the prospect of packet rations. Of course, the quartermaster and I were the equivalent of Theseus returning to Athens under white sails whenever we got to the field with hot meals and ice-cold drinks - but that is a story for another time. My time in 4SIR took me to Brunei and Taiwan, afforded me the opportunity to rub shoulders with the highest ranks in the SAF and travel to camps and bases all over the island. For these reasons, and more, I will be eternally grateful to the benevolent Sergeant Major who took me under his wing and took it upon himself to help a scared 18-year-old be useful in the best way he knew how.

Though we may have fallen out of touch in civilian life, I will be forever bonded to the men who served in 3rd Company, School 4 and B Company, 4SIR. I will remember the common experiences, the trials and tribulations we faced, the sleepless nights, rain, mud, cold rations, and so much more. As the great bard himself wrote in Henry V, speaking in the voice of the King before the battle of Agincourt, “for he today that shed his blood with me shall be my brother.” It may be cliched, but those exist for a reason.

There is little to suggest that I fully enjoyed every single experience in the Army. In fact, I despised most of them. But it is, as the old maxim goes, a case of eating bitter and tasting sweet. The experiences of the two years in the army changed me for the better – which I very quickly learned when I went to university less than 10 days after my discharge from the army. I had two years on my peers, but the two years of invaluable life experiences that all of us Singaporean guys brought with us, prepared us better for the difficulties and strains of living away at university, more than any college prep class could have. We were equipped to live on our own, take care of ourselves and others. We could do laundry, do small scale repairs, manage our finances, and square away other necessities without needing to depend on others. Small problems didn’t seem as consequential anymore. Changes were that much simpler to cope with. Life didn’t become a walk in the park, but it became a lot easier.

Of course, I would be remiss if I did not mention the dark side of National Service. As much as I took out of it, there were many who suffered significant issues that carried on into their civilian life. Many of my friends are still suffering from injuries sustained during training exercises. I know of many others who suffered, and continue to suffer, from depression and anxiety. Many of my peers who stayed behind in Singapore feel they are now lagging in the labour market by virtue of not having worked or studied for those two years in the service. Furthermore, in recent years, we in Singapore have faced a spate of training-related deaths from sheer ignorance of safety guidelines by lower and mid-level leadership. These are salient issues that desperately need redress. Singaporean parents must have confidence in the institution of National Service to not only defend Singapore, but also their sons who they tearfully send off to serve.

The question of if National Service is still necessary is now a hot-button topic. Groups within the younger generation call into question the efficacy of the institution ensuring Singaporean security. The national consensus, however, still remains firmly in the yes camp – Singaporeans understand that their country occupies a strategic and desirable position in a dangerous world and that it behooves them to ensure that there is a well-trained force that can rapidly respond to threats. Now the conversation is asking another big question - if the draft should be extended to women as well as to men, akin to our Israeli friends. We are certainly not in a world where places like Singapore have the luxury of simply not having militaries. There will always be, as the old saying goes, a need for rough men (and women) standing ready to do violence so that good people may sleep soundly in their beds at night. Are we ready to commit both our sons and daughters to the frontlines?

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Shravan Krishnan is a contributor to Commandant