Bernie Madoff passing.

In 2009, he was sentenced to 150 years in prison. He engineered the largest investment fraud in history, with a Ponzi scheme that kept recycling investors’ money to stay afloat. These investment debt accumulated to a staggering amount of S$87 billion, which he was unable to pay up.

For that, he was convicted in 2009 and that 150-year sentence was meted out. At that time, Madoff was already 71 years old. He had lived a high-society life, living in mansions and enjoying luxury cars and massive influence and respect. Some of his investors included the who’s who of the entertainment industry like Kevin Bacon, John Malkovich and even director Steven Spielberg. 

In passing the sentence, Judge Chin said: -

“Objectively speaking, the fraud here was staggering. It spanned more than 20 years...Here the message must be sent that Mr Madoff’s crimes were extraordinarily evil and that this kind of manipulation of the system is not just a bloodless crime that takes place on paper, but one instead that takes a staggering toll.”

The many victims of Bernie Madoff called him a “monster” and a “serial criminal”. One 61-year-old victim who lost everything wrote: “Madoff has wrecked havoc on our family.”

Many went bankrupt, lost their houses and life savings. A French aristocrat, 65, co-founder of Access International Advisors, slashed both his wrists in an attempted suicide. He has invested $1.4 billion of his investors’ money with Madoff. And another woman investor wrote a letter to Madoff: “You are a murderer. You committed generational theft.”

I write about him this morning because he has died. He was 82 at the time. He died of natural causes. He was battling kidney disease and had other medical ailments. 

In the papers, this was his last and final request before he died.

“Madoff had last year sought compassionate release from prison so he could die at home, but the judge who had originally sentenced him to prison rejected that requests.” I guess serving only 11 years out of the 150 is not long enough to pacify the unsettled sentiments of his countless victims.

Indeed, to them, losing their life’s savings kept for their children and children’s children, Madoff was no less a generational thief, one who robbed many of their legacy of hope, stability and peace. 

His lawyer said: “Bernie, up until his death, lived with guilt and remorse for his crimes. Although the crimes Bernie was convicted of have come to define who he was - he was also a father and a husband. He was soft-spoken and an intellectual. Bernie was by no means perfect. But no man is.”

I guess that was the hardest, toughest compassionate plea to speak out in court. Here’s a man who, with eyes opened and heart that beats like anyone of us, has stolen the livelihood and life’s savings of many of his innocent victims on a pitch, promise and a prayer, and now he is asking for compassionate release to die at home with his loved ones? How does the scale of justice balances this equation of humanity and human imperfection? 

Yes, Madoff is not perfect, and no man is, but we are talking about 20 years of wilful fraud committed with nary a conscience on people who had reposed their complete trust and faith on him, unquestioned, unconditional. 

I know this is no less a quid pro quo commercial relationship because everyone is looking for a good and reliable investment to build their retirement nest, especially with someone with such embellished reputation then. But, to cheat them in the millions and billions while you sleep soundly and peaceably at night, and every night, before the whole Ponzi scheme unravelled, is more than just saying Madoff is human after all. 

In court, Madoff said: “I’m responsible for a great deal of suffering and pain; I understand that. I lived in a tormented state now, knowing all the pain and suffering I’ve created. I’ve left a legacy of shame, as some of my victims have pointed out, to my family and my grandchildren. (I offer) no excuse for my behaviour...I thought I could get out of it...For once in my life I have failed.” (“Madoff with the Money” by Jerry Oppenheimer).

Well, I will let that sink in...”l thought I could get out of it...For once in my life I have failed.” 

Somehow, his remorse was too brutally honest. So honest that he can’t express it without full regrets. For he did plan to get out and his failure was numerically pristine...just once he had failed. 

Anyway, whatever he meant by it, in innocence shed or with ambiguity hinted, Madoff may not be perfect, but his crime is, as the Judge described it, “extraordinarily evil.” It may be bloodless, but it took a staggering toll on many lives. 

Alas, the man is gone. His legacy of shame will live on. Human redemption is a tricky exercise. At times like this, it is much less than straightforward. It is also beyond what justice can bridge. 

While Madoff lived a life of luxury for many decades and paid for it in just 11 years out of a sentence of 150 on taxpayers’ money, thousands out there will have to bear his legacy of shame and pay for it for the rest of their life.

 

Mother's final wish - to see son wed.

This is a story of love. Love between a newly wed and love between a mother and child. 

Theresa Tan, Snr Social Affairs Correspondent, wrote it, and it is about a mother’s dying wish to attend her son’s wedding. 

Mdm Ng, 71, was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer in July this year, and doctors gave her about one year to live. Fearing that his mother may not be able to attend his wedding, Mr Chia Fu Yong, 35, and his fiancée for four years, Ms Tan Mei Xuan, 28, decided to tie the marital knot on the auspicious 10/10/2020. 

Fu Yong said: “I was afraid she wouldn’t be able to see me wed. It’s very hard to say how long she has left.”

But it was not easy to make the arrangements. Mdm Ng was bedridden, and being cared for at home. She could not sit up for more than 10 mins without feeling pain. She also could not speak freely. 

Thanks to the charity Ambulance Wish Singapore, they made mother and son’s wish come true. They laid her on a stretcher, fetched her to the wedding at Marina One from Dover Hospital, and even arranged for a standby nurse to attend to her needs. 

The chairman of Ambulance Wish, Dr Ong Yew Jin, said: “Mdm Ng could barely speak, but she managed to whisper to the nurse and our volunteers that she was very happy.”

“She was mostly quiet throughout, so seeing her break into a smile as she shared how happy she was was a memorable moment for us.“

Her son said: “I’m very happy I fulfilled her wish. I felt she hung on for my wedding.”

Lesson? One, it is about the tireless love and devotion of a mother. This love is unseen, yet the power it gives is unerring and unforgettable. 

It is apt here to remind us that many things bring us pleasure of a temporal nature, especially the ambitious pursuit after material gains. But a mother’s love is not readily tangible, yet it is proven to be internally transforming and enduring. 

I recall that Helen Keller once said: “The best things in life are unseen, that's why we close our eyes when we kiss, cry, and dream."

For me, that is the love of a mother, that is, maternal empowerment. Ironically, what we can’t see and touch is the fundamental drive of humanity, giving a life the purpose embodied to give, to sacrifice and even to die for another. That is why I could so readily identify with these words from Helen Keller: -

"They took away what should have been my eyes (but I remembered Milton's Paradise).

They took away what should have been my ears, (Beethoven came and wiped away my tears) 

They took away what should have been my tongue, (but I had talked with God when I was young) 

He would not let them take away my soul, possessing that I still possess the whole."

Indeed, when we kiss, cry and dream, we enter into a world where we retire our sight completely and allow our ethereal soul to connect with another, just like the love of a mother that reaches out to hug her sons and daughters. The union is as close a bond as when one nurtures a life within her womb, and the two lives practically intertwined as one. 

Let me end by reminding myself what I once wrote about motherhood years ago. It is the safe harbour we all return to when the storm of life hits real hard. For who can forget the years of tireless labour, thankless most times, yet, the decades of sacrifices go undimmed, unceasing? 

Motherhood is the cornerstone of every relationship. And should you take away that pivotal maternal cinderblock, the whole structure of a person from birth to adulthood (and beyond) becomes unstable.

Mind you, you will be hard pressed to find hypocrisy in a mother’s nurturance. There is often no glamour in it. In anonymity, her generosity is seldom illuminated. That’s the real acid-test of parenthood; for it is its own reward. 

Mothers also don’t win any award along the hardscrabble, but life-sharpening, journey. It is a job beyond the 9-to-5. It is 24, 7, 365. The breaks come when they are asleep. But by then, you are oblivious to the world too (in your jadedness). 

I feel that God made it that way because the first person you see is the one who nurtures you even before you come into full existence. That enduring bond of connection defines all other bonds of varying closeness as you take upon your own journey when it’s time for you to nurture your very own. 

Her labour of love for you, though at times imperfect, is the same labour expected of you when you first lay your eyes on your newborn. It is a familiar and nostalgic vulnerability you see in yourself when she first took care of you unconditionally, unwavering. It is a legacy passed on, because the legacy you first received makes a timeless soul connection that bonds you to your own offspring. 

There is thus no prize for motherhood except the joy of a bond that grows even stronger through every trial of life. No prize, because it is priceless. 

In truth, she can’t live forever, you know that. She can only give you forever in the time she has with you. And it is a forever that you pass down to your own child, as your own child passes down to hers or his. 

That forever is the bond that stories of love and devotion are diligently woven together by a community that has received and given love the way a mother has given hers.

 

Come to terms with death: Suicide rate in Singapore.

Is it true? As Albert Camus puts it, “Come to terms with death. Thereafter anything is possible.” Can we come to terms with death?

I can imagine our mortal bargain with death. Life and death in a constant struggle to negotiate for a better deal. But what happens when the negotiation breaks down? What if it comes to a deadlock? 

The papers report this: “Record 19 teenage boys committed suicide last year”. They age 10 to 19. It is the highest since records began in 1991. 

As for the total number of suicide, last year’s number of 397 was fewer than in 2016, when the numbers were 429. 

Narrowing down to the young, between 10 and 29, the number was 94. And “for every 10 young people who died from external causes, about six were a result of suicide.”

SOS senior assistant director, Ms Wong Lai Chun, said: “When teens have yet to develop adequate coping mechanisms and there is a lack of awareness of the different stressors this may lead youths to feel overwhelmed and unable to cope.”

Lesson? Just one, and it comes unbridled in these words - “Toxic Musculinity”. That was one of the causes of suicide. 

It reports: “Societal stereotypes that demand men be tough could be one of the barriers preventing male teenagers from seeking help. For every 10 suicides last year, seven were by males.”

Ms Wong said: “Men are stereotypically expected to be tough, stoic, and financially stable. The slightest hint of vulnerability can be seen as an imperfection. This has to change. Men and women alike need to know that it is okay to be less than perfect and we need to educate the public to understand that a supportive and encouraging environment is far more beneficial than a judgmental one.”

Is it okay to be less than perfect in the society we live in? What is the expectations of a man (or a young man) in a world like ours where we measure them not by time, but grades, not by hope but total net worth, and not by faith, but on evidence that must be readily seen and heard in public. 

I always believe that manhood is about being open and vulnerable, and channeling that virtuous brokenness into achieving a deeper understanding of oneself and others so that one can be a more effective and enduring witness when confronting life’s challenges, even in the face of suicide.

But the society has other plans, and the current rise in suicide rates amongst young men may be a symptom of such plans unravelling. Let me elaborate. 

Some time back, I read a book “Invisible Men - Men’s Inner Lives and The Consequences of Silence” by author Michael E. Addis, and he offered this observation into the modern man’s psyche: -

“The bottom line is that a man’s musculinity is measured in large part by his ability to make his public accomplishments widely seen and heard, while keeping his inner life silent and invisible.”

He identified three types of silence. 

First, personal silence - “this is the sort of silence that occurs when a man himself does not even know that he is in pain.” He has a word for it, “alexithymia” translated as “without words for moods”.

Second, private silence - “it is about knowing what is going on but choosing to keep it private...and private silence can become a problem when it is not a choice but a default setting that rarely if ever changes.”

Third, public silence - the author wrote: “Adolescence is a time characterised, among other things, by huge waves of public silencing in boys’ lives. Public silence occurs when people in your environment let you know, in one way of another, that they do not want to hear your vulnerability.” 

“This can happen in ways that range from the subtle (changing the topic) to flat out in your face (“Dude, I don’t know what you’re whining about, everybody’s got problem. Suck it up and move on”).”

Which silence do you suffer from? Pick your poison pls. 

Alas, is the ghost of Nietzsche’s Übermensch (German for "Beyond-Man", "Superman", "Superhuman" or "Hyperhuman”) taking roots in our male psyche? Have we turned manhood into supermanhood? Is invulnerability the new vulnerability? 

This takes me back to the subject I first started with, and I always wonder, what drives a man, a young man, to end his life? 

It is no doubt true that women are twice as likely to attempt suicide, but mind you, men are four times as likely to be successful at it. 

This is sadly our inner resolve as men because, I believe, our silence has become unbearable. It is so loud that our soul can find no peace, no closure, or an anchorage of acceptance in a society that has benchmarked itself (quite relentlessly) against the market-driven traits of Nietzsche’s superhuman. 

We have thus lost our voice because in a society of grossly unequal status and standing, where material acquisition rules, the many men left behind are silenced by a dreaded form of learned helplessness, or the futility of hope. This turns our manhood into one of domination and competition to overcompensate, and what is patient nurturance has become contemptuous discrimination. 

Is there hope in our society then?

As Ms Wong puts it, “Men are stereotypically expected to be tough, stoic, and financially stable. The slightest hint of vulnerability can be seen as an imperfection.” Have we men then made enmity with our manhood, by seeing vulnerability as a form of weakness, or worse, imperfection that cannot be tolerated? 

Alas, maybe the step in the right direction is a pause in our step and see how high we have climbed the Babelian tower of our own enthronement, and then look at all the lives that have been left behind, all the young men who are struggling with a deafening silence they see no hope of breaking out from. 

From there, wherever we are, we have to return their voice. The society has to give back their voice. 

It is a voice that breaks the silence, a voice that collectively restores manhood, and put it back in its rightful place, that is, a place where every men is encouraged and empowered not by an eternal pursuit to fill a void, but an innermost worth beyond the measure of this world to close the gap.

Aloysius Pang, a Service unto life.

The message is clear: Aloysius Pang had breached safety rules while performing maintenance duty. His death was preventable had he, a regular technician and his gun commander followed safety rules rigorously. 

That was the Committee of Inquiry’s investigation conclusion. 

Apart from Aloysius, according to the COI’s findings, the gun commander (and the regular technician) did a few things in breach. 

First, the gun commander “did not ensure the gun barrel was locked before starting maintenance work of replacing the interface card found in the cabin.”

He also continued to lower the gun while Aloysius was standing near the gun barrel’s end - albeit he did ask Aloysius to stand clear. 

And “when the barrel began to make contact with CFC Pang, the gun commander and regular technician panicked and responded “irrationally” instead of pressing the emergency stop button.””

At this point, the regular technician tried to “stop the barrel with his hands, while the gun commander tried to do so using the main control screen, but their actions did not stop CFC Pang from being wedged between the barrel and the cabin’s interior.”

That about clinically sums up the cause of death of our national serviceman, the 4th casualty since September 2017. 

What’s next then for the gun commander and the regular technician? 

Well, they are currently reassigned to administrative duties and, “if found to have been culpable, will be charged and punished accordingly,” said Defence Minister Dr Ng Eng Hen. 

I guess that’s all in a day’s work for our Army. The bottom line is, as Minister Ng said, it is preventable.

In Parliament yesterday, some good soul-searching questions were asked by the MPs. They asked whether there were any contributing factors, on top of the above breaches by the men. 

Was there time pressure? Was there any language barrier in understanding instructions when the barrel was lowered? Or, as Vikram Nair asked, if there was “anything to do as a system” to deal with the risk of human error? 

Minister Ng replied in the negative to the first two questions - no, COI found no evidence that time pressure contributed to the fatal accident. And no, no finding to indicate that Aloysius “took a longer time to understand that the gun barrel was moving towards him.”

In fact, on time pressure, Minister Ng was asked by NMP Walter Theseira “whether there might be any reasons why standard operating procedure for moving the gun barrel was not followed?” and Minister Ng replied that “the reason given was that they wanted to “get on with it”. They couldn’t wait for those few seconds.”

Lesson? One or two?

I recall when I was in the Army, I was often told that we are grown men now and Army boys don’t cry. Just do your part and time will pass by more quickly than you think. 

Alas, we offer our precious sons for National Service to defend the land, in anticipation of a time when they will have to make the choice of sacrificing their lives to protect those they love and those they don’t know. And we wish more than anything that they will return to us in one piece, more mature and polished, more disciplined and wiser. 

National service is a rite of passage for all Singaporean sons and it is something - when you have gone through with chin strap up and scars to show - you will grow to be proud of to have played your part with fond memories of buddies you befriended along the way.

And I believe the Army, Navy and the other Defence Forces are self-correcting, and self-reflective. Every life is precious to them, and they will do their utmost to keep our children safe. And in an ideal world, there will indeed be zero fatalities. 

Having said that, one death (or four within a short period) is heartbreaking to the deceased’s love ones and those who know them. 

Although the COI has done their part and it is time to move on, I also note that the reflective and self-correcting part of our Army is not content to let dead “safety-hazard” dogs lie. 

Minister Ng in fact implemented further safety measures to fortify the system to make it even more accident-proof. 

Now, “all crews of the Singapore Self-Propelled Howitzer (“SSPH”)...have to practise emergency stop button drills before operating the platform.”

I believe this is to counter the “panic” the gun commander and the regular technician experienced in their response to the barrel making contact with Aloysius. As the COI findings put it, they responded “irrationally”. Mind you, in panic, you’d recall the regular technician tried to use his bare hands to stop the barrel from crushing Aloysius. 

Second, “bold markings to indicate areas that are safe and potentially hazardous have also been put up in the SSPH.” 

I guess (in retrospect) this would in all likelihood have alerted servicemen like Aloysius and his crew to the danger of standing in harm’s way. 

And thirdly, “army technicians now have to go through a nine-step drill before their maintenance training and tasks so that any potential risks are reviewed, dry runs are conducted, and roles and responsibilities are clarified.” 

The rationale for this is that since maintenance is not high risk (or hazard) activities unlike when servicemen are undergoing field or on-site training, there is always a risk they could let their guard down during such times.

Maybe, that’s the reason why servicemen like Aloysius and his buddies wanted to (as Minister Ng puts it) “get on with it” and ”they couldn’t wait for those few seconds” to complete the task. 

Alas, this brings me back to what MP Vikram Nair asked earlier; “if there was anything to do as a system to deal with the risk of human error?”

Human error exists everywhere and anywhere. And if to err is only human, then to anticipate and prevent it can really save lives, especially lives of our Army boys who shouldn’t cry because they are grown men.

Let me end with this. How much does the tear of a father for his son worth? 

Well, he may not talk much with his son. He may even see his son less and less as he grows up. And they grow up fast. 

But, a father’s heart and love is universal; it is in fact irreplaceable. And the tears he shed for his son is heart wrenching, and most times, inconsolable. 

You can be friend to another for a season, however long, but you are always a father to your son for all seasons, forever.

I cannot imagine the pain Aloysius’ father went through when he buried him. But as a father, I can’t say I don’t feel an intimate part of it. I have no doubt our ministers felt it too. 

My point here is not to milk emotions, for grown men don’t cry. But I however lament over deaths that are preventable, and preventable in so many ways. 

I admit that as a father, I have seen my son done silly and dumb things in his youth. And as an adult, I am also guilty of committing the same. 

But, for my son, in his growing up years, I endeavour to be always there for him, to build his confidence, to give him hope, and to rejoice with him in his little milestones. 

Truly, it is the same wish all fathers have for their sons when they offer them up to the commandeering fathers of our nation for National Service or see them off for Reservist training. We also hope that our sons will be taken care of, protected and sheltered - because we can’t be physically there for them. 

At such times, we pray that they would not do anything silly. But at the same time, we also pray that the system, the wise stewards of it, would be there too like a father will be for his own son to guard against such silliness and even recklessness. 

If human errors abound, then surely the system’s carefulness ought to abound even more. 

And as we move forward in this sad chapter, it is hope that the tears shed by a father for his son would mean that such death will in the future be truly preventable. 

Because while grown men don’t cry, fathers often do, and their tears for their sons are priceless.

Indra Shaiful's love for Salinah Mohamed - a lifetime's never too long.

I fought back tears when I read this morning’s report. It is entitled “Police officer in accident taken off life support.”

Mdm Salinah Mohamed was taken off life support on Valentine’s day, four days after she suffered extensive head injuries in a car accident on Sunday. 

The 51-yr-old driver was arrested for dangerous driving. 

Mdm Salinah’s husband, Indra Shaiful (41), had to make the painful decision to pull the plug when the “head injuries were so severe that the doctors initially were afraid to move her for tests.”

Shaiful said that he “had been with her since Sunday, when she was fighting for her life, but I didn’t get to talk to her at all.”

He described his wife as “easygoing, well-liked by everyone and loved to plan surprises and present gifts to her friends.”

“They met in 1994, when they were students at First Toa Payoh Secondary School.” 

They had intended to celebrate their wedding anniversary on 28 February with a “romantic overseas trip”. 

Shaiful said that “she had been my soulmate, and she had always been there for me. I feel like I have lost a part of me.”

Alas, the most poignant part of the report was the reaction of their three children. 

“Their two daughters, aged nine and 12, and 11-year-old son miss their mother most just before they go to sleep.”

Shaiful said: “My son is also close to my wife. When he is alone and doing nothing now, he cries secretly.”

“They will be missing the motherly love that every child should have.”

Lesson?....

I always wonder, how powerful is motherly love to a child or her children. 

From the time you are conceived in her womb to the time you are born, and the priceless bonding thereafter, from being nurtured by her to the memory of playing with her, from the privilege of listening to her soft whispers in your tiny ears, feeling her touching your little fingers and toes, and her hugging you tightly to the utterance of your first words and taking your first step before her as she tears in joy, truly, what is motherly love to a child? 

From the time you go to her to share your greatest anxiety about the first day of school, which is nothing more than the fear of being separated from her even for only a few hours, and knowing that it breaks her heart too because she also cannot bear to be apart from you, truly, what is motherly love to a child?

And from the time of your first argument with her and when you eventually come to her with these words, “mommy, I’m so sorry. I love you” to the time you tell a little white lie and she sits you down to tell you how she feels about it, and the time you excitedly share with her that you have fallen in love and how she responds with mixed feelings knowing full well this time she will have to really let you go to start your own family, seriously, what is motherly love to a child? 

I always imagine that when I married my wife, I am also marrying the future mother of our children. 

Well, I can list many qualities of a wife that are irreplaceable, but one such quality that takes all precedence is that she will one day be our children’s mother. That is both irreplaceable and indispensable. 

Motherhood is not only a privilege and responsibility, it is also a source of life for both mother and child. It gives both of them meaning and hope. They grow together, in parallel, and the bond they develop over time is for life. 

The relationship is like a safe harbour, and a child never forgets to return home to his or her mother when the storm of life overwhelms. 

In turn, the mother never fails to be waiting by the edge of the harbour as the clouds gather to watch for her beloved returning to her loving arms. 

That, in essence, is what motherly love is to a child, and that is what motherhood is to a mother. 

And to lose that bond, to not be able to touch and hold her in the nights that you cry for her with all your heart, is a pain that I can’t imagine for a child. 

That is why Shaiful said, “They will be missing the motherly love that every child should have.”

In the light of what I’ve written, we husbands too cannot live without that bond between our wife and our child because we know it is truly irreplaceable. 

And to lose it is like what Shaiful said, “I feel like I have lost a part of me.”

Alas, words cannot express the loss Shaiful feels and even more so, the loss Mdm Salinah’s three children feel. As Shaiful said, “My son is also close to my wife. When he is alone and doing nothing now, he cries secretly.”

I pray for Shaiful and his three children. I wish them well and hope that while time will not heal completely, at least it will give them reason to go on living knowing full well that the one who loved them unconditionally would want nothing less for them but to live on, to live on with courage, to live on for her. For she is more than a hero to them, she is their mother.

And because a bond this strong is for life, and it never leaves you - never. RIP.