太阳下海 The sun goes down to the sea

 

太阳下海与下山，都是在“山”的那一头与这一方，而我却在以“山”为中心的群族追逐属于“山”的正确答案。

--夏曼.蓝波安《大海浮梦》

去年年底搭火车在台湾环岛旅行。第一天从板桥出发，夜宿枋寮。渔港小镇枋寮曾经是台湾西部铁路干线的最终点，现在有了南回铁路可以衔接到东部。绕过台湾岛的最南端，观山望海，第二天抵达台东。

站在台东的旅店阳台，楼下浪涛滚滚，放眼对面，海上隆起的山丘就是绿岛。既然绿岛清晰可见，兰屿也就不远了吧？这次旅行很随意，说走就走，上了火车才找住宿的地方。

联系了兰屿的旅店。原住民口音的女士说：“房间是有的，就看你能不能来。”

什么意思？我是要去啊。她说：“你来得了吗？你搭飞机还是坐船？”

我想，搭飞机快一些吧。她说：“你先确定能来，再联系我吧。”

问了航空公司，天象不好，没有飞，建议我去富冈渔港问看看能不能坐船。渔港的工作人员说：“今天已经没有船了，明天再来吧。”我问明天几点有船？他说不一定，要看海浪的情况。

在台东停留了两天，最后还是放弃，去不了兰屿。

住在兰屿的人们好辛苦呀！交通那么不方便，出入要看老天的脸色。

北返途中，宜兰附近的龟山岛在车窗外陪同了一段风景。我又想：本来住在龟山岛的人，因为政策被移居到头城，他们的生活应该比较舒适了吧？

这些残存的印象，在读兰屿达悟族作家夏曼.蓝波安的自传式作品《大海浮梦》被粉碎瓦解。舒适便利，未必是人类生活的共同趋向。如果“自由”是指自己能做主，选择想过的人生，那不是被环境定义；也不是被单一价值观局限的人生。

就像书里提到的，在四面环海的兰屿，太阳不是“下山”，而是“下海”。汉语摹写形容的陆地自然，不是岛屿的真实景象。如同我以前提过的，希望艺术文化滋养的“沙漠”，在新加坡并不存在。

聆听新加坡台北工商协会“品读人生书友会”三位导读人：张佩瑶、欧昌沛、杨舜轲各自从翻译、生物科技和潜水经验的角度分享阅读《大海浮梦》的心得，让我反思学院式的专业训练有时远不如从自我的成长历程呼应作品。他们在作品中获得的共鸣，是真正读进了精髓。夏曼.蓝波安回应了他们的解读，说到《饥饿的童年》那章，其实有着富足的本族文化。也许汉人看原住民吃地瓜、芋头会认为不如米饭吃得饱。不吃田边水里唾手可得的青蛙和鳗鱼很笨，主人公的叔公却说：那是低等人才吃的食物。

凭着个人体力劳动，捕获应该被吃的鱼—男人吃的；女人吃的，不同种类的鱼，是人的生存规律和大自然的分工。曾几何时，外来的现代化“文明”自以为是的“驯化”，其实是暴力的摧残。

二十多年前，和友人躺在兰屿机场的水泥跑道，仰望仿佛可以触及的头顶满天星斗，我们聊着下午的“奇遇”。

在餐厅门口有几个达悟族小孩向我们兜售将近20公分直径的大贝壳，雪白的贝壳上面还附着粉红色的珊瑚礁。一共有三扇，我们问：“一个贝壳有两扇，应该这是两个贝壳吧？还有一扇呢？”

他们没听懂，我们比手画脚解释：“这样两个合起来，是一个贝壳，现在有三个这个…”

想想我们说得太啰嗦了，干脆直接问价钱。

“一个5块。”个子最高的那位，赤裸的上身黝黑精瘦。

我拿出了15元给他。

他摇摇头，说：“3个10块。”退回我5元。

那么，我只拿两个吧。我把捧在怀里的贝壳还给他一个。

他又摇摇手，说：“3个10块。”

贝壳有些扎手， 我暗笑自己还想问他有没有塑胶袋装。

我问友人：“他们是算术很差吗？还是学汉人薄利多销？”

友人说：“你不觉得在这里金钱好像是很外来的东西吗？”

下次再去兰屿，我会记得《大海浮梦》里的句子：

然而，我们若是从地球“自转”的科学面来论的话，他们是错误的；因为太阳永远就是在他的位置上，没有下山，也没有下海。

2024年5月11日,新加坡《联合早报》“上善若水”专栏

肉身的重量 The Weight of the Flesh

 

这篇文章本来要想定为《AI也怕马家辉》。后来想想，这么“狂妄”的题目，应该要留给马老师自己写。

“AI来了，作家怎么办？”对马老师是一个伪问题。17岁就开始写专栏，洋洋洒洒40多年，专业熟练的写作者怎么会担心人工智能太过强大，威胁自己的创作？

对谈开场时我简单介绍了1956年以来人工智能的发展、停滞和近年的热潮。开一点玩笑，用 “有一个男人叫马家辉”为提示词，想象AI可能生成怎样的小说？怎样的图像和视频？但是，无论怎么生成，都不如作家自己现身说法。香港三部曲的《龙头凤尾》、《鸳鸯六七四》已经出版，进行中的《双天至尊》肯定也是亲力完成（AI一边凉快去）。

马老师用了很传神的形容：写作时的狼狗时光（The hour between dog and wolf）。清晨或是傍晚，天色朦胧，视线模糊，远方朝我们走来的，是危险的狼？还是可爱的狗？不确定又提心吊胆。写作的困难、挣扎、痛苦，化为文字表达以后的满足和喜悦。这独自煎熬的过程，AI不会懂得，用AI写作也不会经历。

用功的作家，肯定也是认真的读者。于是话题很自然地转向“AI来了，读者怎么办？”我说：AI很快地生成连串文字，是字字珠玑，还是字字垃圾，需要读者的判别能力。

马老师说：既然要认真阅读，钱钟书那句“假如你吃了个鸡蛋觉得不错，何必认识那下蛋的母鸡呢？”就要打折扣—假如我们读了一本好看的文学作品，怎么可以轻易放过知道创作者？他的成长历程、书写背景、人生经验…在在是培育酝酿作品的因素。马奎斯小说《爱在瘟疫蔓延时》（《霍乱时期的爱情》）男主角坚守50多年的爱情、张爱玲和胡兰成相恋前后的身体描写，这些，都不是无出身、无来由的AI可以凭空制造的。

作者通过作品传达价值观、生命的喜悦、死亡的恐惧，和读者建立默契联系。AI没有成长史，我们不知道AI几岁，它生成的作品简直像情感诈骗！

归根结底，AI没有肉身的重量。AI不会死。

我想:肉身承载着喜怒哀乐爱恶欲；承载着巧慧和痴愚；承载着生老病死。

肉身有限，随佛家说的“成、住、坏、空”变化。

老子《道德经》说的：“吾所以有大患者，为吾有身。及吾无身，吾有何患。”所有的感官知觉，来自眼、耳、鼻、舌、身、意，受到外界物象刺激和内在思维波动，引起我们的欲望、情绪和想法。如同叔本华感慨的：生命就是一团欲望，欲望得到了满足就会无聊；欲望得不到满足就会痛苦。人生就像钟摆一样，在痛苦和无聊之间摇摆。这就是老子指出的“大患”。不把肉身当唯一严重的事；或者说：生有肉身而不执着于肉身，以至于“无身”，就没有“患”了。

AI无身无患，人们发明AI，训练它成为智能体，有了AI的协助，人类还是有身有患。惟其肉身有重量，我们明明白白活着。

准备为这篇文章收尾，我让AI生成配图，有趣的现象发生了。

我起初用中文提示，要求生成“肉身的重量”的图像。Copilot回应：有些文字会遭到自动封锁，所以不能完成。于是我改成英语的“The Weight of the Flesh” ,仍然一样。到底是哪个文字涉及敏感而受阻？接着我改成同主题抽象化的图像，才有了“充满筋肉的人体”背负另一个“充满筋肉的人体”的画面。类似的“充满筋肉的人体“也生成于Germini和ChatGPT。似乎对于AI, “肉身”的意思就是躯体，图像直接转译了文字。

而我们知道的“肉身的重量”，指的是“道成肉身”，是整体的生命情境，很难图像化。即使前文举的《道德经》的例子，谈的还是不限于躯体。这使我更加理解马老师在谈话结束前引用维特根斯坦的话：“语言的边界就是世界的边界。”至少目前，AI 对象征和概括性的语言认识还在某种边界，我心头的重量，稍稍可以释怀了。

 

2024年4月27日,新加坡《联合早报》“上善若水”专栏

 

The original title of this article was supposed to be "Even AI Fears MA Ka Fai." Later on, I thought that such an "arrogant" title should be reserved for Prof Ma himself to write.

"When AI Comes, What Should Writers Do?" poses a pseudo-problem for Prof Ma. Having started writing columns at 17 and continuing prolifically for over 40 years, how could a seasoned professional writer worry about artificial intelligence being too powerful and threatening their creativity?

At the beginning of our conversation, I briefly introduced the development, stagnation, and recent surge of artificial intelligence since 1956. I made a light joke by using the prompt "There is a man named MA Ka Fai," imagining what kind of novel, image, and video AI could generate. However, no matter what it generates, it couldn't compare to the writer speaking for himself. Prof Ma's Hong Kong Trilogy, with published works "Dragon Head, Phoenix Tail" and "Mandarin Duck 674," and the ongoing "Supreme Dual Heaven," are certainly completed with personal effort (AI can cool off on the side).

Prof Ma used a vivid description: the hour between dog and wolf. Is it a dangerous wolf or a lovable dog approaching us in the dim light of dawn or dusk, when vision is blurred? The uncertainty keeps us on edge. The difficulties, struggles, and pains of writing, once transformed into written words, bring satisfaction and joy. This torturous process is something AI cannot understand, and using AI to write won't experience this.

Diligent writers are certainly serious readers too. Thus, the topic naturally shifted to "When AI Comes, What Should Readers Do?" I mentioned that AI quickly generates strings of text, which could either be pearls or trash, requiring readers' discernment.

Prof Ma said: If we are to read seriously, Qian Zhongshu's saying "If you enjoy an egg, why need to meet the hen that laid it?" must be discounted—if we've enjoyed a great literary work, how can we easily pass up knowing about the creator? Their growth process, writing background, life experiences... all these are factoring that nurture and ferment the work. The decades of love upheld by the male protagonist in Gabriel García Márquez's novel "Love in the Time of Cholera," the physical descriptions before and after the affair between Eileen Chang and Hu Lancheng, these are not something an AI without origin can fabricate out of thin air.

Through their works, authors convey values, the joys of life, the fear of death, and establish a tacit connection with readers. AI lacks a history of growth; we don't know how old it is, and its generated works feel like emotional fraud!

Ultimately, AI lacks the weight of a physical body. AI will not die.

I think: The physical body carries joy, anger, sorrow, love, evil desires; it carries cleverness and foolishness; it carries birth, aging, sickness, and death.

The physical body is transient, changing as described in Buddhism's "formation, existence, destruction, emptiness."

As Laozi said in the "Tao Te Ching": "The reason I have great trouble is that I have a body. When I no longer have a body, what troubles will I have?" All sensory perceptions, stimulated by external objects and internal thoughts, provoke our desires, emotions, and thoughts. As Schopenhauer lamented: Life is but a mass of desires, which become boring when satisfied and painful when not. Life swings like a pendulum between pain and boredom. This is the "great trouble" Laozi pointed out. Not treating the physical body as the only serious matter; or rather, having a body without clinging to it, reaching a state of "bodylessness," thus having no "troubles."

AI, being bodiless and trouble-free, while humans invent and train it to become an intelligent agent, still leaves humans with a body full of troubles. Yet it is this weight of the flesh that lets us live clearly and plainly.

Preparing to conclude this article, I had AI generate illustrations, and an interesting phenomenon occurred.

I initially used the Chinese prompt to generate images of "the weight of the flesh." Copilot responded: Some texts are automatically blocked, so it couldn't complete the task”. So, I switched to the English "The Weight of the Flesh," but the result was the same. What exactly is sensitive and blocked? I then changed to an abstract theme of the same topic, and finally got an image of "a muscular human body" carrying another "muscular human body." Similar "muscular human body" images also generated from Germini and ChatGPT. It seems that for AI, "flesh" means the body, directly translating the text.

Yet what we know as "the weight of the flesh," referring to "the Word became flesh," signifies the overall life situation, difficult to visualize. Even the example from the "Tao Te Ching" discussed earlier is not limited to the physical body. This deepens my understanding of Prof Ma's reference to Wittgenstein at the end of our conversation: "The limits of my language mean the limits of my world." At least for now, AI's recognition of symbolic and abstract language remains bounded, slightly easing the weight on my mind.

 

April 27, 2024, 'Shang Shan Ruo Shui' （The highest goodness is like water）column, Lianhe Zaobao, Singapore."

Text and Image Studies song

AI来了，作家怎么办？AI is Coming, What Should Writers Do?

 

4月2日，同一天签了两本书的合同。一本《AIGC文图学：人类3.0时代的生产力》，将在北京出版。一本《第一次遇见苏东坡》，将在上海出版。

两本书的写作目的和性质截然不同。《AIGC文图学》是8月新学期的新开课程参考书，用文图学的方法论和视角来谈人工智能生成内容（AI Generated Content）。包括如何使用人工智能助手，下指令自动生成文字、图像、音频和视频，对生成的文本进行评价。这些AI生成的文本，已经逐渐渗透进我们的日常生活，影响职业技能、伦理道德、产权法规、乃至国际秩序等等。

《第一次遇见苏东坡》是临时接的写作任务，不在今年的规划中。带着部分自传回忆，我把自己的人生历程，结合与苏东坡的十次相遇，受启发的体验及感悟，通过讲述经典的苏东坡作品，呈现每一次遇见苏东坡的新鲜。有时两本书在同一天各写一部分，于是我陷入既溢满“昨日重现”的情怀，苦辣酸甜，冷暖自知；又条理分明，严守逻辑推演的批判思维。

跳进游泳池，滑动双臂和双腿。长时间伏案写作，造成全身的酸疼，只有在水里稍稍可以缓解。我偶尔一直闭气，脑子里穿插蹦跃者纷乱的思绪，几乎像是忘了呼吸。等到本能地冲破窒息抬起头来，看见泳池周围的椰子树，才又深吸一口气，潜入水中。让自己像机器一样的工作着，但是疲惫和焦躁让我意识到，自己毕竟是个人。

如同去年在新加坡美术馆，看了展览“Proof of Personhood: Identity and Authenticity in the Face of Artificial Intelligence”（人格的证明：面对人工智能的身份和真实性），有观众在墙上贴了便条纸张说：“怎么证明我是人？我哭，我感到我的身体，我饿。”

怎么证明你是人类？现在很多网站要求我们通过辨识图像、拉动图块、计算数字，来证明自己是人。AI时代，我们越来越难以厘清真实和虚拟；是“人类大脑”还是“人工大脑”也越来越难以二分，也许以后AI更多介入人们，区别的问题会不会就变得无所谓了呢？

1956年，在达特茅斯会议（Dartmouth Summer Research Project on Artificial Intelligence）上，约翰·麦卡锡（John McCarthy, 1927-2011）首次提出了“Artificial Intelligence（AI，人工智能）”这个词，标志着AI作为一个独立研究领域的诞生。1980年代的专家系统和1990年代的深度学习机制推动了进展缓慢，几经停顿的AI研究。

2011年苹果手机推出语音助手Siri，可以语音回应用户的提问。2014年，开始有简单的聊天机器人协助文字输出。隔年《腾讯财经》便将AI使用于新闻报道。2016年，谷歌的AlphaGo战胜世界围棋冠军李世乭，你可能会想：训练AI下围棋对我有什么用？

同样在2016年，北京清华大学开发可以创作古典诗的机器人“薇薇”。2017年，人类历史上第一部由人工智能微软小冰生成的汉语白话诗集《阳光失了玻璃窗》出版。你可能会想：原以为人工智能是帮我们处理“动手”的事情，比如烧饭洗衣、打扫卫生。现在，我还是自己烧饭洗、打扫卫生，AI竟然“动脑”，吟风弄月，当起诗人来了。

2022年11月智能聊天机器人ChatGPT公诸于世，马上吸引了全球的关注。短短两个月，用户就达到一亿，打破在此之前，花了九个月达到一亿用户的TiK ToK。

AI来了，作家怎么办？读者又能怎么读？4月19日下午3点半，欢迎到南洋理工大学的地标建筑The Hive，听知名作家马家辉教授和我，一起来聊聊我们的经验和思考。

2024年4月13日,新加坡《联合早报》“上善若水”专栏

On April 2nd, I signed contracts for two books on the same day. One is titled “Text and Image Studies on AIGC: The Productivity in the Age of Humanity 3.0,” which will be published in Beijing. The other is “The First Encounter with Su Dongpo,” to be published in Shanghai.

The purposes and natures of these two books are distinctly different. ' Text and Image Studies on AIGC ' is a reference book for a new course beginning in the August semester, discussing Artificial Intelligence Generated Content (AIGC) from the perspective of text and image studies. It covers how to use AI assistants to automatically generate text, images, audio, and video, and how to evaluate the generated content. This AI-generated content has increasingly permeated our daily lives, affecting professional skills, ethics, property laws, and even international order.

'The First Encounter with Su Dongpo' was a writing task I took on temporarily, not planned for this year. Incorporating autobiographical memories, I narrate my life journey intertwined with ten encounters with Su Dongpo, the inspirations and insights gained, and the freshness of each encounter through his classic works. Sometimes, I work on both books in a single day, caught between a nostalgia-filled 'yesterday' and a critically logical mindset.

Diving into the swimming pool, moving my arms and legs, helps alleviate the soreness from long hours of writing. Occasionally, I hold my breath amidst the jumbled thoughts in my mind, almost forgetting to breathe until instinctively breaking the surface for air. Seeing the coconut trees around the pool, I take a deep breath and dive back in. Working mechanically, the fatigue and irritability remind me that I am, after all, human.

Like last year at the Singapore Art Museum during the 'Proof of Personhood: Identity and Authenticity in the Face of Artificial Intelligence' exhibit, a note on the wall read, 'How do I prove I'm human? I cry, I feel my body, I get hungry.'

How do you prove you're human? Nowadays, many websites ask us to identify images, move sliders, and calculate numbers to prove our humanity. In the AI era, distinguishing between reality and virtuality, and between 'human brain' and 'artificial brain' becomes increasingly challenging. Perhaps as AI further integrates into our lives, these distinctions will become irrelevant.

In 1956, at the Dartmouth Conference, John McCarthy first coined 'Artificial Intelligence,' marking the birth of AI as an independent field of study. The development of expert systems in the 1980s and deep learning mechanisms in the 1990s slowly advanced AI research, which had seen several halts.

In 2011, Apple introduced Siri, a voice assistant responsive to user queries. By 2014, simple chatbots began assisting with text output. The following year, 'Tencent Finance' started using AI in news reporting. In 2016, Google's AlphaGo defeated the world Go champion Lee Sedol. You might wonder, what use do I have for training an AI to play Go?

Also in 2016, Tsinghua University in Beijing developed a robot named 'Weiwei' capable of composing classical poetry. In 2017, the first Chinese vernacular poetry collection generated by Microsoft's AI 'Xiaoice(Xiaobing)' was published. You might think, I expected AI to handle manual tasks like cooking and cleaning. Now, AI is engaging in creative tasks, composing poetry and becoming a poet.

In November 2022, the intelligent chatbot ChatGPT was released, quickly drawing global attention. Within just two months, it reached 100 million users, surpassing the nine months it took TiK ToK to reach the same milestone.

AI is here, so what should writers do? How should readers engage? On April 19th at 3:30 PM, join me and the renowned writer Professor MA Ka Fai at The Hive, a landmark building at Nanyang Technological University, to discuss our experiences and thoughts.

 

April 13, 2024, 'Shang Shan Ruo Shui' （The highest goodness is like water）column, Lianhe Zaobao, Singapore."

 

柯玉芝女士的峇迪旗袍 Ms. Kwa Geok Choo s Batik Cheongsam

柯玉芝女士的峇迪旗袍。（衣若芬拍摄及后制）

在新加坡土生文化馆（Peranakan Museum)看到建国总理李光耀先生的夫人柯玉芝 （Kwa Geok Choo，1920-2010）女士穿过的峇迪旗袍。想起多年前也在这间博物馆看过柯玉芝女士担任大律师时戴过的假发。

Peranakan过去经常被翻译成“土生华人”、“海峡华人”，指华人与马来族通婚的后代，男性称为峇峇（Baba）,女性称为娘惹（Nyonya）。看了展示说明，知道Peranakan不只有华人。"Peranakan" 是马来语，始于15世纪，字根anak是孩子的意思，形容出生于某地但有其他血统和文化的人，比如还有爪哇Peranakan、阿拉伯Peranakan等等。

这件柯玉芝女士的峇迪旗袍挺眼熟，查了她的历史图像，得知她在晚年几次重要场合穿过，像是2004年的英国商会（British Chamber of Commerce）年会，是她2003年中风以后恢复健康第一次出席的公开活动。2010年她去世的新闻，几帧照片都可以见到她穿这件旗袍的留影。新加坡妇女组织理事会（Singapore Council of Women’s Organisations）网站上，她的照片也是穿着这件旗袍。

似乎，这件旗袍对于人们认识她，记忆她，怀念她，有着不可磨灭的意义。

我们对于柯玉芝的基本印象，就是：李光耀一生所爱，背后的坚强支柱，低调内敛的第一夫人。媒体报道她天才早慧，用功读书，曾经考试成绩超越李光耀。在培养新加坡社会精英的男校莱佛士书院（Raffles Institution），她由于表现优异，破格入学，成为唯一的女学生。后来她荣获英国女王奖学金，在剑桥大学主攻法律，成为第一位以一等荣誉学位毕业的东南亚女性，新加坡最早的女律师之一。

人们津津乐道的还有：她比李光耀大两岁，他们在剑桥大学读书期间自行决定结婚，学成归国以后才补办婚礼。柯玉芝也许说不上叛逆，但是绝对有思想主见和独立精神。她的高等学识和专业素养，使得她在新加坡独立建国期间贡献心力，尤其是和马来西亚签署新加坡用水的协议，遗泽后人，功不可没。她擅长处理房地产法律问题，为了规避公私利益冲突，她不在文件上签署自己的名字。

这样兼顾身为三个子女的母亲、国家政要的贤内助、以及个人的事业，很值得当代的女性知识分子学习。然而，她总是面带微笑跟在丈夫身旁，少言寡语。她偶尔接受访谈时说道：即使你没有做什么坏事，别人也可能说你的坏话。

严守分寸，理性沉稳。柯玉芝和新加坡其他政要夫人一样，经常在典礼仪式中穿旗袍。短发、眼镜、平跟鞋，她恰到好处展现自己的气场。从她的历年照片和国家博物馆的收藏，我注意到她的旗袍隐含着华人身份意识的变化。

旗袍在新加坡一般称为长衫。同样是立領、開右襟、下擺開衩的連身衣裙，有别于上海西式立体剪裁，长衫外形平实简约，1930年代开始流行于新加坡（参看我2021年6月19日在《联合早报》的文章）。早年，柯玉芝穿的旗袍大多是素色，有的缀饰重复的花草或几何线条纹样。大约1990年代起，她的旗袍融入了南洋的元素，那就是蜡染（峇迪，batik）艺术。

峇迪发展于17世纪的东南亚，带有鲜明的地域风情。用铜壶笔盛溶蜡液绘制图样，染布时，线条所经之处可以防止染色，达到凸显图样的效果。这件褐色峇迪旗袍遍布风铃草花，孔雀（一说凤凰）双双展翅，莲花盛开，枝蔓卷曲，旺盛的热带生命活力。

无袖峇迪旗袍搭配圆领西装外套，好一个中西加上南洋的三合一设计！减轻了纯华人性质，符合柯玉芝本人的海峡华人出身，以及有别于中国的新加坡主张。沿用罗兰·巴特(Roland Barthes)的服装符号学意义，我想，这件峇迪旗袍，是柯玉芝留给后人的政治语言。

2024年3月30日，新加坡《联合早报》“上善若水”专栏

At the Peranakan Museum in Singapore, I saw the batik cheongsam worn by Mrs. Kwa Geok Choo (1920-2010), the wife of Singapore's founding Prime Minister, Lee Kuan Yew. It reminded me of the time, years ago, when I also saw the wig she wore as a barrister at this museum.
 
"Peranakan" was often translated as "Straits-born Chinese," referring to the descendants of Chinese and Malay intermarriages. The males are called Baba, and the females Nyonya. The exhibition explained that "Peranakan" is not limited to Chinese; it's a Malay term that originated in the 15th century. The root "anak" means child, describing people born in a place but with different ancestry and culture, such as Javanese Peranakan and Arab Peranakan.
 
This batik cheongsam of Mrs. Kwa Geok Choo looked familiar. Researching her historical images, I learned that she wore it on several important occasions in her later years, such as the 2004 British Chamber of Commerce annual meeting, which was her first public appearance after recovering from a stroke in 2003. In the news of her passing in 2010, she was also seen wearing this cheongsam in several photos. Her picture on the Singapore Council of Women’s Organisations website also features her in this cheongsam.
 
It seems that this cheongsam has an indelible significance in recognizing, remembering, and mourning her.
 
Our basic impression of Kwa Geok Choo is that of Lee Kuan Yew's lifelong love, the strong support behind him, and the low-profile first lady. Media reports described her as a precocious genius who studied hard and outperformed Lee Kuan Yew in exams. At Raffles Institution, a boys' school for nurturing Singapore's social elites, she was admitted as the only female student due to her exceptional performance. Later, she won the Queen's Scholarship to study law at Cambridge University, becoming the first Southeast Asian woman to graduate with first-class honors and one of Singapore's earliest female lawyers.
 
People also talk about how she was two years older than Lee Kuan Yew, and they decided to get married on their own while studying at Cambridge University, only holding a wedding ceremony after returning home. Kwa Geok Choo might not be rebellious, but she definitely had her own opinions and independence. Her higher education and professional competence allowed her to contribute to Singapore's independence, especially in signing the agreement for Singapore's water use with Malaysia, leaving a legacy for future generations. She specialized in real estate law and avoided conflicts of interest by not signing her name on documents.
 
Balancing her roles as a mother of three children, a supportive partner to a national leader, and a professional in her own right is something contemporary female intellectuals can learn from. Yet, she always smiled and stayed quietly by her husband's side. In rare interviews, she said, "Even if you haven't done anything wrong, people might still speak ill of you."
 
Measured, rational, and composed. Like other political wives in Singapore, Kwa Geok Choo often wore cheongsams at ceremonial events. With short hair, glasses, and flat shoes, she perfectly showcased her presence. From her historical photos and the National Museum's collection, I noticed that her cheongsams reflected the changing identity consciousness of the Chinese.
 
In Singapore, the cheongsam is generally called a "long dress." Similar to the Shanghai-style with a stand-up collar, right opening, and slits, the long dress is plain and simple, becoming popular in Singapore since the 1930s (see my article in Lianhe Zaobao on June 19, 2021). In her early years, Kwa Geok Choo's cheongsams were mostly solid-colored, some adorned with repeated floral or geometric patterns. From around the 1990s, her cheongsams incorporated elements of Nanyang, namely batik art.
 
Batik, developed in 17th-century Southeast Asia, has distinct regional characteristics. Drawing patterns with molten wax in a copper pen prevents the lines from being dyed, highlighting the design. This brown batik cheongsam is covered with wind chimes, peacocks (or phoenixes) spreading their wings, blooming lotuses, and curling vines, showcasing the vibrant tropical life.
 
The sleeveless batik cheongsam paired with a round-necked suit jacket is a perfect blend of Chinese, Western, and Nanyang styles! It reduces the pure Chinese nature, fitting Kwa Geok Choo's Straits Chinese background and Singapore's distinct stance from China. Using Roland Barthes' semiotics of fashion, I believe this batik cheongsam is the political language Kwa Geok Choo left for posterity.
 
March 30, 2024, Lianhe Zaobao "Shang Shan Ruo Shui" （The highest goodness is like water）Column, Singapore.