Family Law is a Misnomer.

It is true. Family law, as Justice Choo has said, is a misnomer. It is not a law to keep a family going. It is a law to save parties, including the kids, from a family breaking up.

Leo Tolstoy said: “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family are unhappy in its own way.” I guess this is where Family law comes in; to address and resolve the many ways unhappiness is expressed within a family - to put it mildly. 

Family law is one of society’s handmaidens to help parties resolve disputes, especially one that can be as bitter as divorces, family violence, the division of assets accumulated jointly, and the issues concerning the care of their young children. 

Justice Choo said: “By the time the (law) is involved to resolve domestic problems, it usually means that the family can no longer mediate within itself. It is one thing for a family to give and take within itself, and another for a third party to determine how they should do it.”

Unlike a commercial contract, a marital vow comes frontloaded with great expectations. No ordinary contract signed on the dotted line ends with the lifetime bond of nuptial union. Imagine business partners shaking hands, smiling at one another, saying, “Till death do us part”. Scary right?

Usually, when a commercial undertaking is realised and the net profit is divided amongst the parties based on the contractual terms, the partnership ends there. 

You take your money as a reward for the faith, trust and effort invested in a business venture for a period of time, and each of you walks away, satisfied. Most of such handshakes, should the purpose for which they join hands come to pass, conclude with a happy ending. Incidentally, friendships are then forged. 

Even for commercial disputes, when things go down south, the parties are often kept at arms’ length. While emotions may flare up and distrust deepens for the long run, once the matter is arbitrated and resolved, you can generally expect the business wounds to heal. 

For a marriage, however, things are never that simple or straightforward. The wounds for some are never healed. 

What complicates the issue even more, if not much more, is the consummation not just of hearts, bodies and souls, a spiritual union of sorts, but it is the unyielding fruit that such intimacy brings. Mind you, that is part of the covenantal expectation of a marital union. 

When something as miraculous as a life is being conceived in a womb by the joint and indispensable efforts of two ordinary and broken souls (who never stop wondering how undeserving they are), the vows they take to each other suddenly comes alive and the gravity of their passion unknowingly sets the law of love in their hearts. 

When I first held my firstborn in my arms, his vulnerability became my vulnerability, his hopes became my hopes, and his joy became my joy.

From there on, Anna and I know that no contractual terms or language can ring fence or define that kind of passion, commitment and nurture each of us is call to bring into the marriage, which has, by sheer deliberation, served one of its highest purposes, that is, the conception of a life, or in my case, three.

You can therefore see how when a marriage is taken seriously, it can lead to a perpetuated “lawless” (or law-superfluous) bliss that is governed by the self-sacrificial acts of love. 

Family law would then become redundant in a family that has no use for it when love as an ideal is diligently applied to raw reality and is then transformed into a love that is resilient and always overcoming. And when you have arrived at that level of marital commitment, you would then need family law as much as a fish would need a bicycle. 

But any commitment below that covenantal threshold is witlessly beholden to the laws of familial disunions. It is therefore bound by its human-directed solutions, one that can never reach a perfection that the perfection of love in a marriage can reach over a joint and shared lifetime. 

Let me end with our greatest aspiration as a human being with a sealed expiry date. Our greatest aspiration as a living soul is to be loved and accepted, and in return, to give love and accept another, both unconditionally. 

That kind of mutuality is beyond the ambit and reach of a commercial handshake. That kind of union is nurtured in the timeless womb of love that only produces eternal results when two lives come together to sacrifice for one another. 

Marriage is therefore not a self apart from another self. It is instead two selves losing themselves in a union that is transformed by selflessness. No other secular bonds come close to such nurtured resilience, growth and maturity over one’s lifetime. 

So, yes, family law will always be a misnomer because it is nevertheless society’s earnest handmaiden of resolving conflicts that arise from a bond that often operates not on the covenantal level, but one out of a passivity based largely on natural convenience.

Love of a mother and agelessness.

Recently, a lady in her late fifties came to my office. She was concerned about losing her job. She told me that all those who were older have been asked to go. Mind you, some of them desperately needed the job to support their aged mother or grandkids whose parents have dumped them on their lap. 

Most of them left because the pressure was just unbearable. They were bullied by their newly appointed superiors who were no more than their own children’s age. 

These youngsters felt they could do the job better and can’t take correction from someone who is supposed to report to them. They just can’t accept the reality that their older “subordinates” are just more experienced, or have stayed in the company longer, much longer.

So, this is the dark side of ageism. It is not just about the discrimination one gets because of age, it is also the fatalism in ageism that hastens one’s despondent faith in a society that is supposed to be fair, kind, respectful and understanding to one’s elderly. 

Somehow, once you cross that chronolgical threshold, you are viewed as a person not valued for your experience and maturity, and valuable past contributions that built the company, but someone going downhill from there. There is no Pioneer or Merdeka generation status for them in the private sector, or even public sector. 

It is a fatalistic gap because you are deemed spent, used, and unless you have wealth and power, you are seen as someone who is just standing in the way of others busy and blindly making their glowing mark in the corporate world.

Julian Assange has this interesting equation, though simplistic, which I would like to borrow to sharper my point.

“Capitalism + atheism + feminism = sterility = migration”. 

Maybe, in our case it is this: -

“Capitalism + atheism = ageism = disillusionment = migration (that is, suicide)”.

SOS exec director Christine Wong said: “It is very worrying that many elderly are turning to suicide as the only choice to end their pain and struggles, when they should be enjoying the lustre of their golden years.”

Alas, we have effectively closed our eyes to the dark side of capitalism because its glittering promises are just too irresistible for us, especially the young. It promises fame, recognition, wealth and power, and these dangled carrots drive us into the enchanted but dark forest of greed, materialism, and individualism.

Adam Smith has duly warned us about its deleterious effects, but the mirage is just too seductive for us to pay any attention. 

As for atheism, I am referring to it in a way that the young, or majority of them, no longer feels bound by traditions, meaningful disciplines and self-denying rituals and over-arching meta-narrative. 

Sadly, there is even a certain emboldened rebellion against all that. So, from others-centered, some are increasingly becoming self-centered. 

When duty, honour and respect for others that find its deepest and most anchored roots in religion and traditions are sidelined or trivialised by the broad road of wealth and fame, most are therefore freed and free to pursue whatever that makes them happy and satisfied even if it means using others as a means to their own self-enriching ends. 

This of course caused our younger generation to enjoy the potent cocktail mix that leads to ageism, that is, discriminating against those who have gone before them because if they take the credit, what is left for them right? 

Is it any wonder that an economically developed nation like Japan has been hit by a crime wave of elderly shoplifters? 

Mind you, “a staggering 20 per cent of the entire Japanese prison population is now aged over 60.” (compared to 6 per cent in the US).” (p 212 of “Extra Time” by Camilla Cavendish). 

In the book, author Camilla wrote: “One prison inmate, a Ms F, 89, told a Bloomberg reporter that she had stolen rice, strawberries and cold medicine. 

“I was living alone on welfare,” she said. “I used to live with my daughter’s family and used all my savings taking care of an abusive and violent son-in-law.“”

Let me end with an inspiring story about a former cleaner named Mdm Ang Swee Huay. 

She is 91 years old. For 40 years, she has been caring for her two mentally ill children who used to live in their four-room flat in Hougang. 

The story is reported by Janice Tai. 

Mdm Ang’s son, 56, has schizophrenia, and her daughter, 57, has polio and depression. “Both have been afflicted since their teenage years.”

“Madam Ang would wake up at the break of dawn to prepare their breakfast and lunch, remind them to take their medication and then leave for work. Once she returned home, she would cook dinner, and go down on her knees to bathe (her daughter) on the toilet floor as her daughter is paralysed from the waist down.”

But 8 years ago, Mdm Ang was diagnosed with breast and colon cancer. And 4 years ago, she showed signs of dementia with mood swings and memory loss. 

Yet, battling all that, Mdm Ang simply refuses to take her medication for fear that it would make her sleepy and she can’t take care of her children. 

“In the past two years, however, she kept collapsing from exhaustion and had to be taken to hospital in an ambulance.”

Mdm Ang’s life exemplifies what I read in John: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down your life for loved ones.” 

And her daughter said: “I am worried about my mum. I hope she lives until 102 or 107 years old.”

To which, Mdm Ang, who now has stage three cancer, replied in Hokkien, “I am getting old, and I know I need to start letting go of them. That is why we moved (to the nursing home), so they can get used to life here.”

Alas, there is surely no fatalism in ageism. The only fatalism I see is of those who display an attitude of self-superiority, one that treats others with little or no dignity and respect. 

Mdm Ang has taught me that ultimately, character trumps knowledge, hope overcomes despair, and love conquers self.

Marriages, Divorces and Contempt.

Over the years, I have come across quite a number of spouses seeking to end their marriages. 

They come from all ages. You have the newly wed. One recently called me and told me that he just married in June this year. He met her in China. But after staying together for a few months in his Singapore home, he realised that her personality clashed with his big time. 

So, he rushed for the lowest hanging marital fruit...yes, divorce. I told him in the run-of-the-mill cases like his, he will have to wait three years. He nevertheless kept badgering me for a way out of his marital rut. Mind you, he is in his fifties. 

After I told him to give his newly minted marriage a fighting chance, his parting shot to me was this: “Wah, three more years with her, die lah!”

You also have those who married for what seems like ages. Any longer, and they may as well print and circulate commemorative coins with their bridal portraits on it. 

Anyway, many of them confessed to me that they stayed in the dead-calm union because of the duty to raising up their children. It seemed like the shackles of commitment for them are their kids and its liberty is when they grow up and leave the matrimonial home. 

That is also where what is left of a marital shell is the unyielding resolve to take a sledgehammer to break it up once and for all. And it is easy to crack it since there is nothing holding it together inside. 

One even told me this, straight up, that she had given up praying for her husband as her pastor had always conveniently advised her to do.

She said she has been praying for decades for him and he only got worse as he ages. The descend to apathy is quite scary. From can’t wait to unveil her to see his beautiful bride’s face to can’t stand the sight of her as she grew old with him, she told me that now, she only prays for the courage to end the marriage. 

Then, we have the unerringly impenitent. And allow me to judge here. These spouses simply have no anchor, whatsoever. The wedding night is full of promises, but after the honeymoon, the marital road is full of broken promises. One broken promise after another, he leaves her stranded, lost and despondent. Mind you, it works the other way too where the culprit is the wife.

These marriages usually last for a few years because the spouse waits in vain for a change. And when they come to me, it can only mean one of two things. First, he or she is in the loving arms of someone else. Or second, she fears for her own life/safety as he has progressed from promising to protect to promising to harm. 

The thing is, whenever I hear all these stories, that is, all in a day’s work, my mind always drift to my own marriage. I always ask myself, what makes you so sure that you are any different, or Anna is any different. Do you stay together for the kids? 

Well, FYI, next January, we will be celebrating our twentieth. I heard 25th year is silver and 50th year is golden, and 20th year is...waitforit...China. Mm...maybe 1st year is...Las Vegas? 

Anyway, the thing I always look out for in the jaded narration of martial woes is contempt. The dictionary defines it as “the feeling that a person or a thing is worthless or beneath consideration.” The Singlish definition of it is...waitforit...“just can’t stand your face.” And contempt is prevalent in every marriage, no union is spared. 

If we do not want to deny our humanity, we shouldn’t deny contempt. It is not a case of categorical absence but a-matter-of-degree presence. I trust we are guilty of it to varying degree whenever we fight or quarrel with each other. While kids may say the darnest things, we adults say it and at times, inadvertently mean it. 

I have one spouse who admitted to me that what is most hurting was when her husband told her in the face that if he had married someone else, he would have better understanding, better maturity and better lovemaking. 

Well, my in-the-head retort is that if he had married someone else, she might find him incomprehensible, intolerable, and insufferable. But that’s just me. 

Returning to contempt, at times, I catch myself expressing it to Anna. Not that I can’t stand her face, because till today, from a purely physical POV, I still find her beautiful. I am not being romantic, just realistic. But what I just can’t stand about her is her attitude, and I believe at times, she can’t stand mine too. The mutual contempt can be felt from both sides. 

Yet, what kept the marital flame alive and affectionate is how the beast of contempt is slain and the yeast of love is raised. For without ferment where is the good beer or the fresh bread. 

So most times, it is not what we argue about that is crucial, it is how we end it that determines whether contempt reigns or is slain. If we end it to end whatever commitment and love we have for each other, then contempt will take centrestage in our marriage. But if we end it by ending the conflict and building up understanding, then contempt will make its timely exit from the marital stage. 

Here is where I will end this post, due to its unruly length. I have more to say, but let me just close by reminding us that the wedding ceremony is really just the beginning of the journey. Whether it is one that will take you to the China, Silver or Golden years really depends on how the two of you jointly, intentionally and valiantly fight this beast of contempt together. 

Most times, it is not about saving the marriage, but saving ourselves from destroying it by embracing contempt.

Who says bringing up daughters is going to be easy?

Who says bringing up daughters is going to be easy? 

Last night, at the family dinner, I boo-boo’ed. We were discussing about a coming Bali trip and it involved climbing some mountain.

My daughter (14) was there too. She wanted to climb. We were briefed about taking a bus in the wee hours of the morning to start the ascend as early as 3 am, if not earlier. The goal was to catch the first light of day. 

Our group of amateur mountaineers was a mixed bag which included my daughter’s aunts, her older brother and her younger male cousin, together with our ever-muscular de facto guide, whom the kids lovingly addressed as uncle Raveen. 

For those physically fit, we were told that it would take 2 hours to reach the top. For those less fit, it would take 4 at least. So, there was a perceived sense of urgency to make it up on time to enjoy the first rise of the day. 

My concern at that time was whether my daughter will drag the team behind. I feared she would take extra rests and deprive the group of catching the first light. So, that was where I found my foot in my mouth - not a rare occurrence in our weekly family dinner mind you. 

I said in jest, “So Jerica, you are the weakest link, you think you are up to it?”

Ouch! That was it. That was all it took and I could taste the sole in my gums immediately after I said it. It was not my “best moments” with my daughter and we had quite a few of those moments of jest and laughters. This moment was however a big minus in our father/daughter relation. 

You know the boos and jeers that Trump got in the World Series and UFC at Madison Square? Well, I got mine (deservingly) from the other family members, especially the aunts and yes, the mom. 

As Jerica’s head was lying on her folded arms on the table, Anna turned to me and gesticulated like she was warning me of a coming tsunami wave. At one point, I could have sworn I saw her inviting me to a UFC smackdown. 

So, there it is, a daughter lost and a father in remorse. As the briefing went on, all I could hear was her broken heart and mine too both for the same reason - what I’d said, the unfiltered words. 

And coming back full circle, yes, it is not easy bringing up daughters. I have two young ones. 

Sometimes, you disappoint yourself much more than they can disappoint you. And as a father, the onus is on me to lead the way, both in deeds and, well, words. The age gap of a few decades ought to have made that obvious enough, right? 

And well, truth be told, I am never too good with words that come out of the mouth, and I was hoping the words that come out of my hand (or fingers) can make it up here. Incidentally, the lesson this morning has become...me.

So after the briefing, I went to find Jerica but she had gone to the toilet. I could hear some sniffing and water running and I decided to give her some space. 

That night, while driving the family home, I broke the dead silence to apologise to her. I told her daddy is quite a monstrous work in progress. I told her I am sorry to let the tongue loose, unmoored from the brain and heart. 

I was actually expecting a hailstorm from her. I was in fact all Kevlar-up for a combat round of oral ammunition. How shortsighted of me.

And what surprised me was her reply. She said, “it’s okay dad. I understand.” 

Although I was not going to take it for granted and let go, (i thot of explaining further with, yes, words), I however decided there and then to let it go. For me, I think the last thing to say is to say anything. That was also the moment I had the last taste of the shoe in my mouth. 

We then drove home in the silence of the night. And while the Christian music was playing in the background, I thought a little about parenthood, about fatherhood. 

There are many moments where we as fathers hold their tiny little hands to cross the road, to assure them to take the first step, to encourage them in the first day of school, and to give them the confidence coming from our unconditional love for them. 

Alas, one day, I will have to let the same tiny little hands go and trust that the other love of her life will continue this undying father’s heartbeat for her. 

But one thing I can count as a blessing is that such moments also include times when I sit by her side and learn from her. And that moment when she said, “it’s okay dad, I understand” was that moment in question. It was the moment when the roles were reversed, that is, the child grew up and the father woke up (that night, she held my hands). 

Maybe, I have done something right along the messy road of fatherhood to have deserved a taste of those moments when iron indeed sharpens iron, regardless of the age gap.

Tommy Koh's 7 rules of how to treat your helper.

I wonder, what would it be like to be employed as a FDW (Foreign Domestic Worker) by the household of Ambassador-at-large Tommy Koh?

Well, wonder no more, he has written 7 rules of how to treat your helper. And I believe he had applied them all when he had helpers before. Here are the rules, and they are quite self-explanatory: -

1) Treat her as a fellow person.

2) Treat her as a family member.

3) A room of her own.

4) Feed her well.

5) Never be violent.

6) No verbal abuse.

7) Give enough rest.

Let’s digress a little here. 

I recall when my first child was born. We as newly wed were excited. We can’t wait to bring him home. The house had been prepped up for him, even before he was conceived. 

We had great baby plans for him. We only wanted the best for him. He had his own room. His own toys. His own playing area, which was in fact everywhere his tiny little feet can crawl to, over or under. 

He was our pride and joy. We as parents were willing to make sacrifices for him, to delay gratification to make sure his needs are looked after first. 

My recollection was triggered because of Tommy’s first and second rule: Treat her as a fellow person and as a family member. 

Note that he did not say “treat her as your own” or “treat her the way you would treat your own children.” Semantic? Is there a difference? 

Of course there are. My son as a baby was more vulnerable and required greater attention and care. I would be silly or pretentious to say or admit otherwise. 

My point however is that the helper is someone’s daughter. She was (and still is) someone’s pride and joy. She came into this world not born into affluence but poverty. 

Mind you, some of them are mothers with daughters of their own. And it is not inconceivable that their daughters may very well follow in their hardscrabble footsteps. 

And regarding genetic fate, you can in fact say what Warren Buffet once said that, if he had been born into the streets of Calcutta, he might not end up chairing Berkshire Hathaway today. 

So, to some, the ovarian lottery is an immeasurable blessings. They are born to wealth and will be treated like royalty. To many others, it is an unvoidable curse. They are thus born to a hard life, and their hands and feet will bear witness to it, all their life.

Going back to the article, my thoughts are that being someone’s pride and joy, we as employers of domestic helpers ought to be able to empathise with them. 

Here is what Tommy said: “Poverty has caused your domestic helper to leave her family to come and work for you. She has made a huge self-sacrifice in order to send money home to her family. Show some understanding and appreciation.” That came under the first rule - Treat her as a fellow person. 

As for treating her like a family member, Tommy wrote that he would take their helper whenever they go, whether on an excursion, to shows in Broadway, and “when they had no visitors,” Tommy added that “we would eat our dinners in the kitchen and ask our domestic helper to join us.”

And there is a part in his article that I thought was worth a shout of hurray. He wrote: “No hotel, restaurant or club should bar the entry of our domestic helper. In this respect, the Tanglin Club, the American Club and the Cricket Club should emulate the good example of the Singapore Island Country Club.” 

Now, that’s free advertising for you! Or, does it render a reverse advertising effect since clubs are supposed to be exclusive (for the high price you pay)?

I say this because I know what some may be thinking. You pay for exclusivity, for privacy, for a getaway away from others, or certain group of people, it is therefore not unreasonable to expect a conditioned environment for the high price you pay, right? It is just what you can afford and isn’t it your right to pay for it and enjoy what it offers, exclusively?

Well, I am no idealist in this clearly unequal world. To each his or her own. That is why one recent condo advertisement came with this elitist carrot on the exclusivity stick: -

“Set in a private estate, without any HDB in sight, this upcoming condominium offers a prestigious and quiet environment...” 

My impression is that the “squalor” that is HDB may just stain the “prestigious and quiet environment”? Can you blame me for thinking that?

Alas, I have learnt that at most times, one has to live and let live. And it takes all kinds, that is, the rich and the poor, the spoilt and the sacrificial, the arrogant and the humble, the lost and the found, to make this world. It is therefore a mammoth work in progress.

But having said that, I too would like to say that people like Tommy brings out what true riches means in a grossly unequal world, and it is captured in this quote: “The true measure of an individual is how he treats a person who can do him absolutely no good.” 

Ultimately, we can be shanghai’ed away to some exclusive clubs or mountain mansions or some private estates that are beyond the sight of governmental flats, but how we treat those who can do nothing for us is what maketh a man (or woman) rich, or otherwise, in perpetual poverty (of character). 

That is why this personal account by Tommy offers a taste of how a man can live in a rich mansion but still leave a trail of poverty behind: - 

“I remember visiting the home of a wealthy friend. He showed me around his spacious new house. At the end of the tour, I asked him and his wife where the domestic helper’s room was. 

She replied that the helper slept either on the couch in the living room or on the floor in the kitchen. I was tempted to ask why they did not let her stay in one of the empty rooms I saw but my wife stopped me.”

Let me end by saying that once you treat your helper like a fellow person or a family member, all else will follow. 

She will have a room or a suitable place she can sleep in. She will be properly fed, and on this, Tommy wrote that he and his wife “observed the rule that (their) domestic helper would eat the same food as (themselves).” He said, “if we had lobsters for dinner, we would buy one for our helper.”

She will also receive proper rest, even in the afternoon. And she will be treated well, respected and even honoured as a fellow human being (remember, she is someone’s precious daughter).

For the roof over one’s head can be a mansion of great size and proportions, but what makes a person rich is never about the size of the house, but his or her own heart.