The Ultimate Boyband Song

Undoubtedly the gold standard by which all boyband songs are measured, and the template according to which all such songs are written. Performed by Oxford's very own "boyband", the all-male a cappella group, Out of the Blue.

Declaration of my feelings for you
Elaboration of those feelings
Description of how long those feelings have existed
Belief that no one else could feel the same as I

Reminiscence of those pleasant times we shared
And our relationship's perfection
Recounting of the steps that led to our love's dissolution
Mostly involving my unfaithfulness and lies

Penitent admission of wrongdoing
Discovery of the depth of my affection
Regret over the lateness of my epiphany

Title of the song
Naïve expression of love
Reluctance to accept that you are gone
Request to turn back time
And rectify my wrong
Repetition of the title of the song

Enumeration of my various transgressive actions
And insufficient motivation
Realisation that these actions led to your departure
And my resultant lack of sleep and appetite

Renunciation of my past insensitive behavior
Promise of my reformation
Reassurance that you still are foremost in my thoughts now
Plead for instruction how to gain your trust again

Request for reconciliation
Listing of the numerous tasks that I'd perform
Of physical and emotional compensation

Acknowledgment that I acted foolishly
Increasingly desperate pleas for your return
Sorrow for my infidelity
Vain hope that my sins are forgivable

Appeal for one last opportunity
Drop to my knees to elicit crowd response
Prayers to my chosen deity
Modulation and I hold a high note...

Brideshead Revisited: A twitch upon the thread

I've just finished reading Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh. It's been some time since I've read a good, no, great, novel - witty, urbane and profoundly moving all at once - mired as I am, in the more functional and prosaic prose of current affairs reporting. Even though I got through the novel in fits and starts, it is probably a testimony to Waugh's brilliance that every time I picked it up again to continue from where I had left off, I was immediately wrapped up in the poetic beauty of his words and transported to a different place, a different time. And yet, despite the rarefied air of the world that his characters inhabit, much of what they struggle with is universal.

The book is about one Charles Ryder's infatuation with the Marchmains, an eccentric (often comical), aristocratic, Catholic family, and the "rapidly disappearing world of privilege they inhabit" (so says the blurb at the back of the Penguin edition of the book). Charles Ryder first falls in with the enchanting Sebastian when they are at Oxford. This episode opens with one of the loveliest descriptions of Oxford I have ever come across.

Oxford, in those days, was still a city of aquatint. In her spacious and quiet streets men walked and spoke as they had done in Newman's day; her autumnal mists, her grey springtime, and the rare glory of her summer days - such as that day - when the chestnut over her gables and cupolas, exhaled the soft airs of centuries of youth. It was this cloistral hush which gave our laughter its resonance...

Through his friendship with Sebastian, Charles is introduced to his "madly charming" family and years later is swept up in an adulterous affair with Sebastian's ethereally beautiful sister, Julia.

Here, after having been together with Julia for two years, Charles recalls a conversation that he and Julia once had.

'It's frightening,' Julia once said, 'to think how completely you've forgotten Sebastian.'
'He was the forerunner.'
'That's what you said in the storm. I've thought since, perhaps I am only a forerunner, too.'
'Perhaps,' I thought, while her words still hung in the air between us like a wisp of tobacco smoke - a thought to fade and vanish like smoke without a trace - 'perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving stones along the weary road that others have tramped before us; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us.'

Earlier in the book, Charles declares that "to know and love one other human being is the root of all wisdom." But by the end of the book the imperfection and insufficiency of love between two flawed human beings becomes tragically clear. And yet, all is not lost. The book ends redemptively, with the Marchmain family returning to their spiritual roots and Charles back at his beloved Brideshead Castle during the second world war, now a Captain in the army, saying a prayer - "an ancient, newly-learned form of words" - in the chapel, finally finding what he had always been searching for, even as he is found.


In the 1959 preface, Waugh writes that the theme of this book is "the operation of divine grace on a group of diverse but closely connected characters". In the middle of the book, just after their mother has passed away, Cordelia (Sebastian and Julia's younger sister) tells Charles:

'Anyhow, the family haven't been very constant [in their faith], have they? There's [Papa] gone and Sebastian gone and Julia gone. But God won't let them go for long, you know. I wonder if you remember the story mummy read us the evening Sebastian first got drunk - I mean the bad evening. "Father Brown" said something like "I caught him" (the thief) "with an unseen hook and an invisible line which is long enough to let him wander to the ends of the world and still to bring him back with a twitch upon the thread."'

The True Story

One of the other very striking things that Dr Ramachandra said on Thursday night, was that we should make use of our university years to establish firm, intellectual foundations for our faith. He noted that we ourselves might be the biggest stumbling block to thoughtful inquirers about the faith, with our superficial theology and our shallow understanding. I found this quite sobering.

Looking back, I see how the Lord has led me on this wonderful journey. I started out standing at the crossroads of faith and philosophy. I had always considered myself a Christian, but in my three years at Oxford I was steeped in secular philosophy, which left me rather confused for the first two years. In my third year I started, for the very first time in my life really, to fully grasp the truth of the gospel, emotionally and intellectually. I left Oxford convinced about Jesus, and convinced about the inadequacy of secular philosophy to bring about real, positive change, but I was not quite sure about what Jesus had to say to secular philosophy. In my six months or so in New York, God has been giving me some great answers.

I’m finding that my semesters have come to have certain themes to them. Last semester my philosophy classes covered the nature of justice, as well as secular liberalism and identity. This tied in very well with the Vision Campaign sermons at church which touched upon the nature of competing truth claims and the transformative power of the gospel. (See Liberalism, the Gospel and the Truth: Part One, Part Two). This semester, I’ve been taking courses in human rights, globalization, civil liberties and terrorism, and another course in modern philosophy. The focus is now more on the “practical” side of justice with a more global perspective. The Veritas Forum came along at just the right time – the speakers who came were all actively on the front lines of human rights and global justice, and it was fascinating to hear what they had to share. This semester, my human rights course in particular, has provided me with much food for thought.

We recently read one of Richard Rorty’s lectures, Human Rights, Rationality and Sentimentality (On Human Rights: Oxford Amnesty Lectures 1993). Rorty is a prominent atheist and a self-described “neo-pragmatist”. His philosophy is anti-metaphysical: he believes that the traditional philosophical pursuit of ultimate, objective, foundational knowledge (especially regarding the existence of God), is misguided and ineffective. In this article, he argues for a pragmatic approach in establishing the basis of a human rights culture.

He cites a report about the atrocities in Bosnia, commenting that Serbian murderers and rapists not think of themselves as violating human rights, for they are not doing these things to fellow human beings, but Muslims. They are not being inhuman, but rather are discriminating between the true humans and the pseudo-humans. As Clifford Geertz puts it, “Men’s most importunate claims to humanity are cast in the accents of group pride.” By default, we tend to think of our humanity is a tribalistic and ethnocentric way – we think in terms of “them” and “us”.

He notes that outside the circle of post-Enlightenment European culture, most people are simply unable to understand why membership in a biological species automatically qualifies a person of another culture, one of the “others”, as a member of our moral community. On Thursday, Dr Ramachandra also similarly argued that the moral equality and dignity of all is not a concept that is innate to most cultures at all. India and China had extremely hierarchical, class-based societies, and most cultures are inherently tribalistic. Any culture that respects universal human rights, regardless of ethnic boundaries, have all, historically, been influenced by Judeo-Christian thought. The philosophy of the Enlightenment is deeply steeped in Judeo-Christian tradition. For example, Kant’s account of the respect due to rational agents tells us that you should extend the respect you feel for people like yourself to all “featherless bipeds”. Rorty goes on to say “This is an excellent suggestion, a good formula for secularizing the Christian doctrine of the brotherhood of man.” (See The Veritas Forum at Columbia – A slight diversion: Secular Humanism as a Christian Heresy).

He points out that “most people – especially people relatively untouched by the European Enlightenment – simply do not think of themselves as, first and foremost, a human being. Instead, they think of themselves as a certain good sort of human being – a sort defined by explicit opposition to a particularly bad sort.” Ironically, this is also true of the very Western intellectuals who have been touched by the European Enlightenment. Rorty says “I quite agree that [our Western human rights culture] is morally superior…” and “We Eurocentric intellectuals like to suggest that we, the paradigm humans, have overcome this primitive parochialism by using that paradigmatic human faculty, reason.”

But Rorty has a problem with the appeal to reason to justify human rights. Kant, following Plato, emphasised rationality as essential to being human. Plato believed that the best way to deal with immoral people was to demonstrate to them that they had an interest of which they were unaware, an interest in being rational, in acquiring self-knowledge. Plato saddled us with a distinction between the true and false self. That distinction was, by the time of Kant, transmuted into a distinction between categorical, rigid, moral obligation and flexible, empirically determinable self-interest. Kant claims that sentimentality has nothing to do with morality, that there is something distinctively and transculturally human called “the sense of moral obligation” which has nothing to do with love, friendship, trust or social solidarity.

Rorty thinks that appealing to common rationality as the basis for respecting human rights does not work. It does not do much good to get tribalistic, ethnocentric people to read Kant, and agree that one should not treat rational agents simply as means. For everything turns on who counts as a fellow human being, as a rational agent in the only relevant sense – the sense in which rational agency is synonymous with membership in our moral community. For most white people, until very recently, most Black people did not so count. For the Nazis, Jews did not so count. For the Serbs, Muslims did not so count. He says, “Even if we do think that all human beings are rational, we tend to equate “human beings” with “member of our tribe”, we have always thought of human beings in terms of paradigm members of the species. We have contrasted us, the real humans, with rudimentary, or perverted, or deformed examples of humanity.”

Rorty’s solution is to give up rationality for sentimentality. He follows Hume in believing that “corrected sympathy, not law-discerning reason, is the fundamental moral capacity.” He cites contemporary philosopher Annette Baier, who would like us to get rid of both the Platonic idea that we have a true self, and the Kantian idea that it is rational to be moral. Instead, she advocates a Humean “progress of sentiments”, which consists in an increasing ability to see the similarities between ourselves and people very unlike us as outweighing the differences. Rorty calls this “sentimental education” and he describes it as manipulating the sentiments of future generations by telling them long, sad, sentimental stories which typically begin “Because this is what it is like to be in her situation – to be far from home, among strangers,” or “Because she might become your daughter-in-law,” or “Because her mother would grieve for her.” It is novelists and stories that best capture our imagination and engage us morally, and Rorty believes that this is the best catalyst for change.

Reading this article it occurred to me, that the only way in which a story could both capture our sentiments and grip our reason, and really change our lives, is if it were about us, all of us, (and not just some distant, almost hypothetical "other"), and if it were true.

I think that Rorty’s dichotomy between sentimentality and rationality is a false one. It was the great C. S. Lewis who understood so very clearly that we have both the heart that yearns for God and the mind that seeks to know him. Lewis himself grew up loving the Greek and Norse mythology of old, but it was only after his conversion that he started to see in them glimpses of eternal truth.

Colin Duriez writes that it was J. R. R. Tolkien who helped him to see this, during a long night's talk in September of 1931. Tolkien argued that the Gospels have a satisfying imaginative as well as intellectual appeal, demanding a response from the whole person. He accused Lewis of an imaginative failure in not accepting their reality. What Tolkien did was help Lewis see how the two sides, reason and imagination, could be integrated. During the two men's night conversation on the Addison Walk in the grounds of Magdalen College, Tolkien showed Lewis how the two sides could be reconciled in the Gospel narratives. The Gospels had all the qualities of great human storytelling. But they portrayed a true event—God the storyteller entered his own story, in the flesh, and brought a joyous conclusion from a tragic situation. Suddenly Lewis could see that the nourishment he had always received from great myths and fantasy stories was a taste of that greatest, truest story—of the life, death, and resurrection of Christ.

Lewis himself later argued in "Myth Became Fact," that “[t]he heart of Christianity is a myth which is also a fact. The old myth of the Dying God, without ceasing to be myth, comes down from the heaven of legend and imagination to the earth of history. It happens—at a particular date, in a particular place, followed by definable historical consequences. We pass from a Balder or an Osiris, dying nobody knows when or where, to a historical Person crucified (it is all in order) under Pontius Pilate. By becoming fact it does not cease to be myth: that is the miracle. … God is more than god, not less: Christ is more than Balder, not less. We must not be ashamed of the mythical radiance resting on our theology. We must not be nervous about "parallels" and "pagan Christs": they ought to be there—it would be a stumbling block if they weren't. We must not, in false spirituality, withhold our imaginative welcome.”

I was reminded of my favourite Tocqueville quote where he says, in a draft for the 1840 Preface to Democracy in America, 'Not a man in the world has ever found... the central point at which all the rays of general truth (which come together only in God) or even all the rays of particular truth meet. Men grasp fragments of truth, but never truth itself.'


Plato was right. We do have a true self.

(Charles Williams, Lewis' fellow Inkling, wrote about how the lover's romantic vision of the beloved was not confused, but illuminated. The lover sees through the beloved's flaws to the image of God. It is this truest and deepest self of the person - the person as created and potentially redeemed by God - that Williams called that person's "eternal identity.")

Kant was right. It is rational to be moral.

Hume was also right. Sentimentality matters to morality.

But they have only grasped fragments of the truth, which seem to contradict each other.


Tocqueville was right.

It is only in God, where all the rays of general and particular truth meet.


Postscript: Amazing. Just got back from church. Tonight, there was this guy who shared his experience of doing mission work, helping street boys, in Mexico City. He started out talking about how he came to faith. He was raised in a nice, secular family. He loved history and science and he only read nonfiction, because he thought that fiction was just a bunch of made-up stories with no real point to them. This is what he thought about religion for the longest time. But when he found himself confronted with the truth of Jesus Christ, he came to see that this was not just another story. It was, as C. S. Lewis said, a myth that was true. And that just totally changed his life.

Baptised and Graduated

In all the comings and goings, meetings and partings, I think about why it is that some of the most beautiful things pass you by most quickly. Is beauty by definition fleeting?

Three years of Oxford have just hurtled by in the blink of an eye, and I now leave Oxford baptised and graduated.

Finals ended, finally. 3rd of June was a happy day. Thanks to everyone who was there to share the joy (in person or in "spirit" - ah the wonders of modern technology...)

12th of June saw me down by the riverside getting baptised. It's something that I've wanted to do for a really long time - to publicly declare my faith - but I've always held back.

However at just the right time, and not a moment too soon, I finally felt ready. I felt for the first time that I knew what I believed, that I was utterly convinced of what I believed, and that I wanted to shout to the world what I believed.

And this is what I said.

"Hi, my name is Peishan.

When I was 4, they told the story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal in kindergarten, and ever since then I've been absolutely convinced of the existence of God.

But it's only quite recently that I truly understood what it really means to follow Jesus - what it means to be loved by a God who loved us so much that He sent His one and only Son to die for us so that we might live.

And so today, this is for me,

A declaration of faith

An acceptance of grace

And a celebration of love."

Back home for 3 weeks, then back to Oxford again to graduate and to say my final goodbyes. The graduation ceremony was charmingly traditional (most of it was in Latin), we did a lot of bowing and our gowns looked really great. (They were, after all, by Ede and Ravenscroft, royal robemakers since 1689.)

We were reminded of how we were part of a tradition that stretched back over 800 years, what a privilege it was, and how we should always bear the name of Oxford proudly. I shall always be proud to consider myself an Oxonian, to consider myself part of this venerable institution, this seamless blend of change and continuity, steeped in history and yet always moving forward.

Our tutor told us at Schools dinner that we are remembered by the year which we metriculate (joined the university) as opposed to the American tradition of being part of a graduating class. There is none of that boundless, extravagant American optimism that would see us marking the year in which we were all sent forth into the world to make it a better place. He said he preferred to think of membership in an Augustinian sense, there being a Church in heaven and a Church on earth, and us being remembered by the year in which we became members of the Church of Lincoln (or more generally Oxford). For that is when we joined and this is where we shall always remain.

We said our goodbyes as we each went our separate ways, knowing that the years would bring us together again, here and there, now and then, but also sad with the knowledge that it will never really ever be the same. But perhaps it shouldn't, for isn't change is the only thing that is constant? Yet I can't help wondering if what is beautiful never really lasts.

But we are together always, in memory and in love.

And I only know of one beautiful thing that truly lasts forever.

Big Blue Sky

The end is nigh!!! I can almost taste it. 6 papers down and 2 more to go. It's been OK so far, by the grace of God, in spite of all my fear and frailty. Thank you all for all your prayers and well wishes. (One can never say thank you enough ;)

Went for a walk today in the Parks - the third consecutive day that I've done that now. I LOVE the Parks.

It's so easy to get bogged down in fear and stress and just see no end in sight. But going for walks in the Parks - all that rolling green, sunshine and blue sky - just reminds me of all that I already have and all that there is to look forward to.

So look around you and look outside
A great big love and a big blue sky

Birds, Flowers and Finals

First day of Finals tomorrow. It's Rupert's birthday today (poor boy) - happy birthday Rupert!

Also, good luck and God Bless to all my fellow Finalists!

Oxford tradition dictates that you pin a carnation on your gown (which you have to wear when you sit exams, along with a white shirt and a black skirt/ trousers, as well as a black ribbon round your collar, and you must also carry your mortarboard, carry, not wear - don't ask me why, it's tradition). White carnation for the first paper, pink for everything in between, and red for the last paper.

It's not compulsory, and I almost did not want to bother with it. But Rupert asked if we could swop carnations and so I said yes. The carnations are sitting in a cup in my bathroom.

Looking at them the other day, instead of thinking "oh no one more thing to worry about before I take my exam", I thought of something that Jesus had said.

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? ...But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself." - Matthew 6:25-34

So tomorrow, when I pin the carnation on my gown and walk down to exam schools passing the pigeons that seem to be all over Oxford, and all the tomorrows after that, I will know that if the birds and the flowers survive, I'll make it ok.

Thank you all for all the love.

[Jesus said] A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. - John 13:34

This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.

Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.

No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. - 1 John 4:10-12

The Revolution

Had my last Foundations of Modern Philosophy revision class today, on Max Weber's Politics as a Vocation. We talked about how Weber made a distinction between an ethic of ultimate ends and an ethic of responsibility. The former referring to the grand, sweeping, passionate vision and the latter referring to a more pragmatic personal acceptance of consequences.

The blind pursuit of ultimate ends, though potentially dangerous, is also absolutely necessary. It's only great leaders, with such visions, tempered by a more pragmatic ethic of responsibility, who can affect real change in the modern world. A world, which for Weber, is one that is dominated by bureaucracy, alienation and disenchantment.

For Weber, my tutor said, the human condition is ultimately tragic. He said that when we got to his age, we would start thinking about such things more and more; about how ideals, however much you cherish and believe in them, are not attainable in their purest forms. Weber was not entirely spouting nonsense when he spoke of the world as a continual struggle for power and the state as the ultimate embodiment of violence. (Bleak, yes, but not entirely incorrect.) We can only struggle, and we can only get so far. Weber himself cites Martin Luther who, when pushed to recant his writings on biblical authority, proclaims "Here I stand; I can do no other."

And so the tragedy of the human condition sees humanity caught between great idealism and unachievability.

I think about how, while Luther was one of the great exceptions, and Protestantism spread rather successfully after his death, even if he were alive today, I doubt he would have said that his ideal had been entirely realised.

Ideals are not attainable in their purest form; you may struggle for your personal ideals all your life, to varying degrees of success, but for every great hope, there is greater disappointment. And we are constantly caught between the unlimited dreams that we can conceive, and the stark limits of what we can actually achieve.

And in the end, the end of us is just the end of us, concluded my tutor.

After that rather brief, and rather pessimistic aside, he quickly marched on, taking us through the text. I was very struck by his little diversion because he'd always struck me a very cheerful and ethusiastic person (he's also a great tutor, by the way, one of the best I've had these three years here, and that's saying a lot).

But I guess I shouldn't really have been surprised. Because anyone as clever as he is (and he's frightfully clever) would not have failed to notice that we live in a world that while beautiful in parts, is also immensely flawed. And if we are all there is to it, then yes, I think the human condition is ultimately tragic. We will never fully achieve our ideals in reality, and we often don't even live up to our own ideals in our daily lives.

And maybe you think, well, this is how it is. We are born, we die. And in between we struggle. And there are good bits and bad bits, but you know, I try to focus on the good bits, try my best to fix the bad bits, and if I can't then well, at least I've tried. And if it hurts too much, well, then I'll just try to forget.

But all the while you hear this little voice whispering, there's got to be more to life than this.

And there is. Because the truth is, we can't save ourselves. No revolution or institutional reform or global mass movement will really change anything, if we do not first grapple with the darkness that is in our hearts. The model of the self-seeking, utility-maximising "economic" man, while crude, does capture a significant part of the truth. So much of global injustice today can be attributed to sheer greed.

The very awesome Prof G. A. Cohen, who has written extensively in reply to John Rawls' Theory of Justice (among other things, that is; I also attended his lectures on Plato and Hegel & Marx - he is such a legend), criticised Rawls for having a strictly institutional conception of justice and equality. What good would that be if we can't even treat our fellow citizens with personal respect?

He writes that he's now much more convinced of the nostrum that "for inequality to be overcome, there needs to be a revolution in feeling or motivation, as opposed to (just) in economic structure ...short of a second coming of Jesus Christ ...there will bever be, many people would think, the needed change in motivation." (in If You're An Egalitarian, How Come You're So Rich? p.20)

I believe that no secular conception of morality is going to provide the much needed motivational change; not consequentialim (most famously Mill's utilitarianism), nor deontology (such as Kant's categorical and moral imperatives), nor virtue ethics (first conceived by Aristotle).

No amount of thinking, institution-building or revolution-inciting is going to fundamentally change the way we think and act; the way we treat each other.

What we need, is a spiritual revolution.

Christianity is shaped by the conviction that the eternal wisdom and divine word that is in and through all things, took shape in a particular human life, at a particular time. The divine became part of the flux of human history in order to influence and transform it from within, through communities dedicated to following the word made flesh.

There is an intense inwardness about true religion, and in this it overlaps with the current fashion for spirituality. It does indeed offer inward strength. But the religion of the Bible is not primarily about achieving inward tranquillity. It is just as much about being wracked by a sense of protest and lament at the state of the world: a protest and lament before the very face of God. It is also about seeking to be a sign, through renewed human relationships and restored human communities, that not all hope is lost.

Richard Harries, Bishop of Oxford, "We Should Not Fear Religion"

The Observer Sunday Dec 19 2004

The Walk

A week to Finals. I am miraculously calm. Peter just asked me the other day why I was so calm. Resigned acceptance? Nope. Overly well-prepared? Hardly. So what is it? Faith, I said.

I had a really nice walk in the park today. The sky was a brilliant blue and all the world was bathed in sunlight. It was good to get out, and not be sitting at my desk; fresh air and good conversation can do wonders.

Thank you all for your prayers and words of encouragement.

Thank you for walking with me.


For you have delivered me from death
and my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before God
in the light of life. - Psalm 56:13

His Eye is on the Sparrow

I really needed to hear this today. Got home from the library and hit play on my ipod. My randomised playlist started up. This was the song that came on right after I Could Sing of Your Love Forever - another song I really needed to hear.

Just under two weeks to the beginning of Finals. Had a mild panic today over Plato. But it's all right now. It was always all right.

I just needed to remember what I believe.

It's not just a pretty song (although it is very pretty indeed). It's not just a crutch. It's not a comforting illusion.

It's the truth.



Why should I feel discouraged
Why should the shadows come
Why should my heart feel lonely
And long for heaven and home


When Jesus is my portion

Yet I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.

You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will take me into glory.

Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.

My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever. - Psalm 73:23-26


A constant friend is He

Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. - John 15:13


His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches over me
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me

[Jesus said] Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. - Luke 12:6-7


I sing because I'm happy
I sing because I'm free

Jesus said, "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." - John 8:31-32


His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me

His eye is on the sparrow - Lauryn Hill and Tanya Blount (Sister Act II OST)

The greatest thing you'll ever learn...

Had a really good discussion with my college Chaplain at lunch in Hall today. I asked him if he was at the William Lane Craig debate on Friday (see Friday April 29 entry) and he said he wasn't. He asked for a brief recap. We then talked about how when it comes to knowing God, there's a limit to how far your understanding can take you. At some point you have to acknowledge that it is just a mystery, that your finite mind cannot completely grasp the infinite.

That is not an excuse for mysticism and superstition of course; we should push the limits of understanding as far as possible, but there comes a point where you can push no further. Locke, in his Essay on Human Understanding points out in the introduction that we can't know everything, but what we do know, we can systematically understand.

We are not forever groping about in the dark, because even though we don't know the intricate workings of God's mind, we know his very character and his very nature, as revealed in Scripture and supremely in the life and work of Jesus Christ. And if you believe, we can know him also through his very presence and work in our lives. Because knowing is not just a purely intellectual exercise, but a personal experience as well.

When you reach the limits of human understanding, it takes humility to say, Lord, I don't know, but it is enough for me that You know, all the while trusting in His goodness. I don't know exactly how my heater works (clearly I wasn't paying attention in science class...), but I can feel the heat that it produces and it keeps me warm. And that is good enough for me. Of course there is no need for that now that summer's here, thank God.

Another analogy that struck me when I was thinking about the limits of human understanding. This might surprise you (or it might not), but when I was young I was quite the little monster. And when I was punished for my various misdeeds, I never understood why I deserved it - I had done nothing wrong. Much kicking and screaming would ensue. Including several "I hate yous", which of course I never actually meant. The thing is, even though I couldn't (or wouldn't) accept why I was being punished, fundamentally I never doubted that my mother loved me.

So while I don't understand everything (how exactly does the tsunami fit into God's plan?), I know enough of the very nature and character of God, to know that He loves me, and that He loves you.


Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror;
then we shall see face to face.
Now I know in part;
then I shall know fully,
even as I am fully known. - 1 Corinthians 13:12


This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.

This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. - 1 John 4:9-10


I remember we spoke about this once, how the Moulin Rouge tagline reads "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return."

When actually, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is how to be loved, and to love in return."

Because God loved us first.

Knowing Enough

Just returned from a debate at the Oxford Union between Professor William Lane Craig and Professor A. C. Grayling. Famous Christian theologian/philosopher vs. famous atheist philosopher on "Does belief in God make sense in spite of tsunamis?" It was thoroughly enjoyable and provided much food for thought.

Prof Craig went through the logical problem of evil and the probabilistic problem evil - the two main formulations which dominated the academic literature. There was even a handout laying out both arguments with premisses and conclusions and assumptions and rebuttals. (You will be glad to know that I won't be getting into specifics here)

To cut a long, complicated, often times quite intense debate short - If God is ominpotent and omnibenevolent, why does he create a world in which there is evil and suffering?

Prof Craig argued that the existence of free will meant that any possible world with free creatures would contain sin and evil. If we are all given the ability to choose, we all choose differently and some choose better than others. God is omnipotent, but that means that he can do all logically possible things. He cannot make a square round, or make someone freely do something - these things are logically impossible.

And so it is quite conceivable that the existence of both evil and God is not a contradiction.

I think it's quite apparent to most of us that a lot of the bad stuff that goes on in the world is a product of human choice - from the exploitative institutions that we create (just ask the Marxists), to the wars we fight, to the hurt that we cause the people in our lives.

But the question still remains - what about the exceptions of accidents and natural disasters? Prof Grayling argued that it was inconceivable that any loving God would cause such pain.

Prof Craig argued that it is possible to argue that God has morally sufficient reasons, reasons that do not have to be apparent to us, in allowing suffering in the world (even tsunamis). That it is all part of his providence, over the course of all human history, to build his kingdom by drawing as many people into it as will freely choose.

He spoke about the million contingencies in every moment - how could we possibly know which actions will achieve the best outcome overall, in the long run, over the course of all of human existence? Only God knows. And he holds all of history in his hands.

Prof Grayling said that whenever he spoke to people of faith he always had the problem of them saying that they know something which they claim to be the whole truth, but that they do not know these other things.

Prof Craig had pointed out the limitations of human cognitive abilities and how we simply would not be able to fully understand all the details of God's plans, and how great suffering could be a part of it. For how could the finite completely reach the infinite?

Prof Grayling then retorted by quoting Locke in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, saying that we have enough light in our minds with which the fathom the world.

At this point alarm bells went off in my head because I've read Locke and that is not what he says.

In the Introduction, section 5. "For, though the comprehension of our understandings comes exceeding short of the vast extent of things; yet we shall have cause enough to magnify the bountiful Author of our being... How short soever their knowledge may come of an universal or perfect comprehension of whatsoever is, it yet secures their great concernments, that they have light enough to lead them to the knowledge of their Maker, and the sight of their own duties."

"Men have reason to be well satisfied with what God hath thought fit for them, since he hath given them, whatsoever is necessary for the conveniences of life, and information of virtue; and has put within the reach of their discovery the comfortable provision for this life, and the Way that leads to a better."

Locke is arguing that the light that we have in us, which is given to us by our Maker, is sufficient for our understanding of the things that we need to know. There are things that we shall never fully understand, like how exactly grave suffering fits into God's plans, but we know enough to have faith. Knowing God through the reading of Scripture, knowing God through his presence and his continuing work in our lives - that is enough.

Prof Craig pointed out that for most people the problem with suffering is more emotional than intellectual. And yet the Bible tells us of the God who shares our suffering in the person of Jesus Christ. Him, who was wholly innocent, but who was prepared to endure death on the cross and the sufferings of hell itself, so as to bear the sins of the whole world, so as to die in our place that we might have eternal life.

God isn't distant or remote, especially in suffering, for he suffered for us and he suffers alongside us still. In our darkest moments, it is his presence that comforts us and his love that gives us light.

Not only did Grayling twist Locke's words, Locke's very words can actually be used against him. Yes, we know enough to know. We know enough to have faith.

I wanted to raise my hand and point this out during the Q&A session, but I didn't. I guess nerves must have gotten the better of me. It would be quite funny (and slightly intimidating), telling Grayling that he didn't read Locke properly, especially since he wrote quite a few of the books on our philosophy reading lists. Even so, that doesn't make him right.

I don't know everything. But I know enough to believe that what I know is true.

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." - John 8:12

Goodbye Oxford

Just a gentle, quiet lament
for the time that has passed,
and friends that will be much missed.
For turrets that twist in the sky,
and bells that chime in the night.
For the river that will always flow,
and the spires that will forever dream.

I am so very thankful.

Victory!

More good news to top off an already excellent day: Oxford won the annual Oxford-Cambridge Boat Race today by a solid two lengths, gloriously avenging our underserved defeat last year. Hurrah!

BBC report: "Oxford capture Boat Race success"

The Oxford Singapore Forum

Just got back from church camp today. Having not read the news for a few days, I logged on to the Straits Times to find that I was almost famous. Well, almost. The inaugural Oxford Singapore Forum was held on Monday - Vivian Balakrishnan, Warren Fernandez, Irene Ng, Tim Huxley and Colin Goh spoke and took questions. I asked the one question that was referred to in the Straits Times "Why no referendum on casino in Singapore" except that they did not put my name down, which, as far as I'm concerned is a good thing, because the question was taken slightly out of context.

The discussion was about the Singaporean Identity - what is it? Does it exist? Dr Balakrishnan spoke of Singapore as a very young country whose sense of nationhood was (somewhat artificially) formed by the state, as opposed to having evolved historically out of a shared ethnic identity (think England); this is not made any easier by the racial diversity of the populace. It's easy to see why the Singaporean identity is an elusive thing to grasp. He spoke of Singapore as an unfolding historical oddity; the need for intrusive government given the youth of the nation and the threat of instability. Singapore is a very small place, and the politics that is practised is the politics of a small place. This was said in response to questions about the lack of democracy in Singapore - we are too small to have a functioning two-party democracy.

This then made me think about what democracy is, and what it is to have democracy in a small state. Immediately I thought of Plato and Rousseau, and the republican philosophical tradition that held that it was precisely in small states that democracy is best established. Plato spoke adoringly of the Greek polis, and Rousseau drafted a constitution for Corsica (a suitably small place). It is in small countries that you have ease of access to information and transportation - it is easier for people to meet up to discuss ideas and to decide things democratically. Here a distinction must be drawn between democracy as manifested in a functioning party system, and democracy in the decision-making process. Even if Singapore did not have a functioning party system, surely decisions could be made in a more democratic manner - a referendum would be a good example. If a referendum was not possible (or deemed undesirable by the government) then surely administering and publishing more opinion polls could do no harm. In fact, they would even add to the legitimacy of the decision.

And so my question was this - You say that Singapore is a small place with an intrusive government which was the result of the historical context in which the state was founded. But if we look at the writings of some of the great philosophers, it seems that it is precisely in small places that democracy would flourish (and then I briefly stated the reasons I gave above). I managed to speak briefly with Professor Joseph Nye when he was lecturing in Oxford, and he mentioned that Singapore was the closest thing on earth to Plato's Republic - a sentiment that I had heard expressed before and one that I agreed with. With respect to the casino issue, my understanding of it is that the government did make an effort to ascertain the views of the people. But having done so, they then withdrew to decide. The proposal for the holding of a referendum was quickly shot down, and by most accounts, there wasn't that much citizen participation in the act of decision.

Now the perception will clearly be that what we think does not matter - that no matter what we say, the government will ultimately decide according to its own agenda. Does this not pose a problem? To feel like you have a stake in something, you need to feel that what you say or do makes a difference - how can you feel a sense of ownership and belonging if you feel entirely alienated from the decision-making process? Given the futility of political participation, how can you blame Singaporeans for being politically apathetic?

Dr Balakrishnan basically said what the article quoted him saying, which is that the only other occasion on which we had a referendum was over the merger. But that was not quite my point. I mentioned the casino issue as an example of how public opinion did not seem that important, and that ultimately the government decides. There are many things you can do short of a referendum in making more democratic decisions - opinion polls for example. What would also help is if the process were more transparent - how exactly do the views of the populace factor into the decision-making process?

I got to speak briefly to Dr Balakrishnan later on. And we spoke about how it was indeed true that Plato's Republic wasn't exactly utopia - there was a huge underclass of slaves and women were denied the vote. (But to be fair to Plato, he was writing more than 2000 years ago.) What we did not manage to get round to discussing (he had to leave) was the fact that the nature of decision-making was quite similar in spirit. While there was clearly more consultation in modern Singapore, the essence of decision-making was still rather elitist - it's very much a top-down approach where ultimate and overriding authority lies with the government. While Singapore may be like that now it may not always be so. Dr Balakrishnan spoke about the constant change and reinvention that characterises Singaporean society - each generation will face its own unique set of challenges in its own way.

Through no active design on my part, I ended up at the private post-lunch reception and so got to speak to Warren Fernandez, Colin Goh and briefly with Irene Ng. Warren Fernandez is very soft-spoken and very nice - he's a fellow Oxonian and also formerly of Hwa Chong Humanz :) He was very upbeat about Singapore's future and the vitality of our meritocratic system, even for those of minority races (he saw himself as a prime example). As a young journalist he had incurred the ire of the then-PM, a certain Mr Lee. He ended up having tea with him and suffering no apparent ill consequences.

Colin Goh is talkingcock.com. Long live talkingcock.com. He's just as funny in person and just as critical. I told him that his wife taught me when I was in secodary school - it turns out that they had met at one of the creative writing camps that she had organised for us (he was a guest speaker - everybody say 'Awww...') He asked me about my plans for next year and I said that I hoped to go to Columbia for grad school. If you do come to New York, come round and visit us, he said, which was so very nice of him. I want to go to Columbia!!! He told very many heroic stories of his battles with the censorship board - an especially funny one was about how he had to argue his case for the Turbanator segment in talkingcock The Movie. He got the entire Sikh community on his side, and in the end they let the segment pass uncut. He spoke about the need to "just go and langgar lah" - just push the envelope and see how far you get. If you believe in something, make sure you do something about it. Fight the good fight. He wrote a rather funny column around this theme just before the forum (see below).

The Oxford Singaporean Forum was fun and quite interesting. I'm very impressed by the few 1st and 2nd years who managed to pull the whole thing off, and also by the speakers who generously chose to give of their time and were patient and gracious in answering our numerous questions.


By the way, church camp was great.

----------------------------------------------------------------------


Given that the Straits Times will make us all start paying in 2 days time, I have included both articles below.

March 15, 2005
Why no referendum on casino in S'pore
Issue not big enough; only one referendum held so far - on merger with Malaysia
By Neo Hui Min
Straits Times Europe Bureau

OXFORD, ENGLAND - THE only time Singaporeans were called on to vote in a referendum was for whether Singapore should merge with Malaysia.

Going by this precedent, a referendum on whether Singapore should have a casino may not be entirely appropriate, Acting Minister for Community Development, Youth and Sports Vivian Balakrishnan said yesterday.

'We didn't even have a referendum for independence. Is this (the casino issue) of the same order of magnitude as independence and merger?' he asked about 130 Singaporean students at a forum held at Oxford University yesterday.

Dr Balakrishnan was responding to a remark by a student participant that the proposal for a referendum was 'shot down very quickly', and that the Government often seeks views but then 'withdraws to decide' what it wants to do.

Citing more recent 'painful' changes that the Government had to make - including increasing the goods and services tax, lowering income tax and cutting contributions to the Central Provident Fund, Dr Balakrishnan pointed out: 'When these painful crunch-time decisions come up, the Government has to consult, explain its decision and then be held accountable for it.'

But if the Government were to decide everything by referendum, then 'you may not have...coherence in policy, and...the accountability of the Government'.

'Whatever happens, we will take the blame or credit for it.'

Dr Balakrishnan was the keynote speaker at the forum organised by the Oxford University Malaysian and Singaporean Students' Association, which explored the idea of the Singapore identity, whether Asean could be seen as Singapore's hinterland, and how Singapore is faring as a post-colonial nation.

Other panellists at the forum included defence analyst Tim Huxley, Member of Parliament (Tampines) Irene Ng, Straits Times Foreign Editor Warren Fernandez and film-maker and satirist Colin Goh.

Opening the forum, Dr Balakrishnan asked students to think about 'what ideals we have as a people or as a group of people who want to be a nation', the insecurities of the people, and the concept of opportunity for the people.

He pointed out that the thing that catapulted Singapore into becoming a sovereign state was the pursuit of ideals of meritocracy and of multiracialism.

'People think our existence was to become rich. If that was so, then we shouldn't have become independent. No right-leaning economist would have said then that Singapore had any possibility of economic success.

'What makes you special is what you believe in, what you fear and what your obligations and responsibilities are - Whether you like it or not, you are part of this small odd place called Singapore.'


March 13, 2005
Speak up first, take cover later
By Colin Goh

I write this, I'm about to fly off to England, where I'm scheduled to speak at a forum organised by Singapore undergrads at Oxford.

While honoured, I'm not sure why they invited me, since the other speakers include a Minister, an MP, a senior fellow at an institute and a serious columnist for this paper (as opposed to a frivolous one, like, um, me).

I imagine I'm there either to be the token nut who's too dumb to get with the programme, provide comic relief, or make the rest look intelligent.

My anxieties were reinforced when I did some calculations and discovered that despite the sponsored flight, attending the forum would put me out of pocket by several hundred pounds, since I have no institution to cover ancillary expenses.

'I'm actually paying to expose myself to a potential tekan-ing by establishment figures,' I wailed to the Wife. 'Say wrong thing, how? Why am I doing this? What's wrong with me?'

'You're Singaporean, mah,' she replied. 'Glutton for punishment.'

A glance at the news proved the Wife right. Last week, a survey of 719 Singaporean couples showed that 39 per cent considered themselves unhappy in their relationships, because of things like unhappiness with each other's personalities or communication problems, but were going to get married anyway.

That's right: Despite unhappiness with their partners, they are ngeh-ngeh going to shackle themselves to each other, ostensibly for life. Totally illogical, but completely consistent with the Singaporean character.

I say this with some confidence, because in 2000, the Wife and I wrote an article for the Singapore International Foundation titled Paved With Good Intentions, about our desire to change the script of our lives.

Somehow it got circulated on the Net and since then, we've received torrents of mail, even as recently as last week, from fellow Singaporeans.

Many of the writers expressed regret at choosing a course of study or career in which they had zero interest, but went along with it for reasons such as 'because Ma and Pa say Gahmen say it's good and because Uncle So-and-So's son did it, and now he's making a lot of money'. And many have said they now feel trapped and depressed.

Singaporeans, it seems, have a high propensity for self-suppression. According to Professor David Olson, the administrator of the relationship survey, the Singaporeans' conundrum may be attributable to a cultural reluctance to express their real feelings, coupled with an aversion to confrontation. In other words, plain old kiasu-ism, and its even plainer sister, kiasi-ism.

At most, Singaporeans' displeasure leaks out in little displays of passive aggression, like those irate drivers who, when someone cuts into their lane, mutter obscenities and make rude gestures even though the offending driver can neither see nor hear them.

My favourite example of Singaporean passive aggression is a friend's account of watching The Lord Of The Rings at a cinema, when some moron decided to amuse himself by pointing a laser pointer at the screen. No one told him to stop, or called the management to remove the nuisance. Instead, the audience simply morphed into chichaks and proceeded to make 'tsk' sounds from the anonymity of their darkened seats.

Of course, yelling at some inconsiderate twit has some risks - he might be a junior member of the Chap Sar Tiam Secret Society looking to work off some aggression, for instance, but if one can't take even these small social risks, how are we going to deal with the big ones? Like, say, marriage or general elections?

And if we're unhappy with our prospective partners, how will our angst leak out after getting hitched? Staying longer at the office to avoid the emotional void at home? Hanging out more at the 'launge'? Pouring boiling water on the maid?

The fact is, when we sweep unpleasantness under the carpet, sooner or later it accumulates into a bump that could lead to a nasty fall. My old army sergeant's advice still rings true: 'Kah kah lai! Meng kia, long tio ooh sia!' (Go boldly. Don't be scared. If you bump into something, it'll make a noise.)

So what should I do with the potential discomfort at Oxford that I've committed myself to? The lesson of the unhappy Singaporean couples suggests that if I've committed myself to a venture, then I shouldn't be afraid to speak my mind.

For better or for worse, speaking one's mind may be risky, but it beats the alternative: losing it altogether.

Between the Idea and the Reality

Exactly a week ago I found myself at St Catherine's College, listening to none other than Anwar Ibrahim speak. You heard me right. Anwar Ibrahim. Former Malaysian Minister of Finance and heir apparent to Mahatir, that is until he got chucked into jail on charges of corruption and sodomy. He's in Oxford now on a visiting professorship - it's so cool that Oxford draws the most eclectic people from far and wide. It was a really interesting talk, "From Paradiso to Inferno", touching on the years 1997-8 when the Asian Financial Crisis struck. I was quite impressed when he started off by quoting Dante:

A heavy clap of thunder startled me up
As though by force; with rested eyes I stood

Peering to find where I was--in truth, the lip
Above the chasm of pain, which holds the din
Of infinite grief: a gulf so dark and deep

And murky that though I gazed intently down
Into the canyon, I could see nothing below.

He spoke about what he did as Finance Minister and how he tried to push for reforms to the system so as to combat corruption. He said he met with great opposition, and he also basically said that it was his personal war on corruption that led to his fall: he was making it harder for the former PM to favour his own, especially his children.

He impressed me further by quoting Amartya Sen (Nobel Prize winner for Economics and formerly of Oxford) on his theory of development as freedom, and proclaiming that Asian Values were clearly overrated. Arguments about the need for example, to curtail freedom of speech in order to maintain racial harmony and guarantee national security have been used since the 1960s - surely we have moved on since then. He stressed the importance of freedom and democracy, specifically expressed in the institutions of an impartial judiciary and a free press, as the best way to fight corruption and encourage greater growth.

During the question and answer session I stood up and said "You say that the way to combat corruption is through having freedom and democracy. I was just wondering what you think about the experience of Singapore as compared to Malaysia in the fight against corruption, especially given the fact that Singapore is, well..." People started laughing, and because I'm so incredibly politically correct, I didn't go on to state the obvious. He smiled and said that clearly Singapore was much more successful than Malaysia in dealing with corruption. And this is something that Malaysia always has trouble admitting - that Singapore is better at it in anything. But he insisted that Singapore could still do with greater freedom. And besides, corruption is sometimes a matter of defintion, is it not? It made me think about how it is possible, while not breaking the letter of the law (and hence not being legally culpable) one is still clearly capable of breaking the spirit of the law.

He also spoke about the "Chinese problem" and the bumiputra policies. He said that there clearly needed to be more equality, and in the cases where there was to be affirmative action, it should apply equally to all races: the Indians on the plantations, the Chinese in the urban slums and the Malays in the rural areas. He said he'd often had arguments with fellow Malays about the matter, and he always pointed out how it was impossible to be a just Muslim if you were to deny, say for example, an accomplished Chinese student a seat at the university on the basis of race.

He was very funny and engaging and I could see why the Economist had said that he was the most charismatic Malaysian politician of his generation. He spoke about the difference in the extent of corruption in Indonesia and in Malaysia. In Indonesia they just ask you for bribes outright, but in Malaysia they were a bit more subtle. "We were trained by the British you see, the Indonesians were trained by the Dutch," he said, to much laughter all round. He talked about his time in jail. "There wasn't much to do in solitary confinement; read, sing, you name it, I sang it all, Elvis Presley and all that."

He looked perfectly fine and healthy which was surprising. He said he had been beaten quite badly in jail but that his operation in Germany had more or less got him back on his feet. He said that he did not regret anything that he did, except for the pain that it had inadvertantly caused his family.

Later on during tea at the Rector's Lodgings I got to speak with him. I asked him what role moderate Islam (as practised in Malaysia and Indonesia) had to play, in the light of the rise of Islamic fundamentalism. He said that he was writing a paper on that and that it would be published soon. I then asked him what he thought about Mahatir's incendiary and controversial comments about the West (I distinctly remember him accusing the Jews of conspiring against the Islamic states during the height of the financial crisis) and how he thought it affected relations between Islam and the West. He said that Mahatir was a clever guy and that he knew just how to appeal to Muslims all over the world. When you consider that their options are rather limited (Saddam, Osama, the Saudi King), it is not difficult to see why Muslims would respond positively to someone like Mahatir (a moderate in comparison).

I also had a chance to speak to his wife, Dr Aziza, MP of Penang as I understand it (yay Penang! I have family there :) She seemed really nice and gentle. I asked her what she thought was the role of women in an Islamic society. She spoke about how in the beginning there was Adam and Eve and that is the way God made it - men and women were meant to be partners in this world, but this did not mean that women should be treated like men. She talked about the differences between men and women, women had to bear children, biologically we have a different make-up etc. I asked her if that then meant that men and women have different roles in society, women at home and men in the workplace. She said that women should be in the workplace as well, but that differences should still be taken into account. Do you mean in terms of maternity leave, childcare subsidies and so on and so forth? Yes, she said, and she spoke of recent efforts to extend maternity leave.

She said that a man once asked the Prophet whom he should respect, and the Prophet replied "Your mother. Your mother. Your mother." Women were clearly worthy of great respect. But I kept wondering if, in conservative Islamic societies, it was the case that women only gained the greatest respect as mothers, and that implicit in all that she had said, was an admission that women could never really be "on par" with men, and that "difference" was just another word for inequality. She spoke about how it was important to be gentle and genteel and to be respected when conducting oneself in the political arena - that was how she got things done. But at the same time I wondered how much that respect was contingent on her being the wife of Anwar Ibrahim. Don't get me wrong, she seemed perfectly nice and respectable, and I'm thrilled that she's an MP, but I am still rather sceptical of the prospects of gender equality in a conservative Islamic state like Malaysia, at least for now.

Later that night I spoke to my dad and told him that I'd seen Anwar Ibrahim speak. We have lots of family in Penang (some of them rather well placed) and my dad told me that according to a very reliable source, Anwar Ibrahim had had a very mutually advantageous relationship with one of the prominent Chinese businessmen in Penang. It might not have been a case of straight out corruption, but like Mr Ibrahim himself said, it's a matter of how you define corruption, isn't it? Cherfarn said quite humorously and quite accurately that it was not a matter of whether you were muddy or clean, but how muddy you were, because everyone was dirty. It is a matter of degree, so where do you draw the line?

In his speech, Mr Ibrahim also quoted (much to his credit) T.S. Eliot. It was particularly apt.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

- from 'The Hollow Men'

I was speaking to Dr Aziza when they had to leave. "Thanks for coming," she said, "And God Bless."

"Thank you," said I, "God Bless you too." I thought it was nice that we could say that to each other meaningfully, even though we had different conceptions of God.

I really enjoyed the session and it really made me think. They were both very pleasant and approachable, and I do hope to God, for his sake and for his country's sake, that Mr Ibrahim is innocent of what they charged him with. And also, that he truly means what he says.

Lectures: Prof Joseph Nye and Prof Sir Adam Roberts

I've had two very exciting lectures in two days - Oxford surprises me at every turn, and I am just so glad to be here. Yesterday the eminent Professor Joseph Nye of Harvard University, recently retired Dean of the Kennedy School, who served in the Carter administration and headed countless thinktanks, whom, as Cherfy tells me coined the term "soft-power", and as I just found out attended Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship way back when, was delivering the 2nd of his three-lecture series on power.

He was talking about the IT revolution and about how different countries dealt with it. He talked about how China was rather paradoxically trying to harness the economic potential of an open information network and yet at the same time trying to restrict its citizens access to other types of information. He recalled a particular conversation he had with a certain Mr Lee Kuan Yew, Senior Minister of Singapore. (He must not have heard about the revamp in the Cabinet and re-branding of the "Minister Mentor"...) He had asked Mr Lee about the paradox of equipping the younger generation with IT skills and yet at the same time trying to limit the information that they could access online. The eminent Mr Lee apparently replied that if the younger generation were tech-savvy and literate enough to circumvent the censorship, then he would not care if they did.

After the lecture I went up to him and asked him if he thought Mr Lee had gotten it right. He said that he had lots of respect for the man, that he didn't agree with everything he did, but that you had to give the Singapore government credit for being so astute about the impact of technological change, and recognising that they wouldn't be able to stem the tide forever. He said Singapore was wildly economically successful when they could just as well have been a poor immigrant city-state. I asked if he thought the attitude that lay behind the policy was somewhat patronising and instrumental in its conception of freedom of information. He was of the opinion that change could happen faster and that the administration tended to err on the side of caution. And, well, it is a very paternalistic state. He said that he'd often thought of Singapore as the closest thing to Plato's Republic on earth. I said that that was not an uncommon sentiment. He said, however, we have had several Singaporean students over the years, and I'm always very impressed by them.

Professor Nye was very liberal and non-reactionary for an American. But I suspect this is more the case within American academic circles, which unfortunately, are hardly representative of the whole country. In speaking about soft power, he emphasised the importance of credibility and legitimacy, and he admitted quite freely that on that front, America had bungled up the Iraq War. I'd like to think that his time at Oxford had something to do with it, because there are quite a few eminent American IR professors who belong to the more hawkish, realist school of international relations, and who, unfortunately are advising George Bush, and I would put good money on the fact that they weren't educated at Oxford. At least, I hope they weren't.

Today I went to an IR lecture given by Professor Sir Adam Roberts - possibly the coolest title on earth, and a very big mouthful. He spoke about democratisation. At the end of the lecture he took questions and I raised my hand and asked what he thought about the culturally deterministic view that some countries just cannot have democracy. He had referenced Fareed Zakaria a couple of times during his lecture, and I remembered reading an interview that Zakaria did with LKY in Foreign Affairs back in the 1990s. Essentially, what LKY was arguing was that culture is destiny.

Prof Sir said that history tends to prove these culturally deterministic theories wrong. He said in the 1960s in Europe there was quite a lot of literature that argued that there was something about Catholic societies like Spain, Portugal and the Latin American countries that meant they weren't amenable to democratic change. Of course history has since debunked that theory. Also, in Asia, there can be seen to be a distinct move towards democratisation in countries like Taiwan and South Korea, where before people had argued for the existence of a distinctly Confucian form of government. By the way, has anybody been championing Asian values post-Asian Financial Crisis? Yep. That's what I thought. Although, he said, it's very important to note that culture is hardly irrelevant - there is no single route to democracy or any single model and each country has to develop at its own pace and within its own culture. But culture is not destiny.