Last week, I watched a South Korean film about a woman who, after being missing for 40 years, re-enters her family’s life as a pile of skeletal remains.
Her husband, blind from birth, is a master seal engraver revered as a national treasure. Their son grew up without his mother since shortly after his birth. There is not a single photograph of her at home, and no one remembers exactly what she looked like. He has always believed she abandoned her husband and child. Everyone describes her with just one word: ugly.
It is only after her son sees her remains and begins digging for answers that his mother’s life gradually comes to light. “Ugly” is a convenient label. Everyone, no matter how close they were to her, assumes they knew her. What did she go through? What kind of person was she, and why did others describe her that way? Those questions, by contrast, take effort to pursue.
People’s impressions of her were formed long before they ever truly knew her, and as they passed her story on to others, they kept embellishing that narrative. In the end, even her husband, who was blind from birth, came to imagine her as unbearably ugly. Convinced that he had been deceived and that everyone was laughing at him, he actually murdered her.
The film withholds the woman’s face until the very last scene, when she is finally revealed through a photograph. Looking back at how she was defined, and ultimately erased by wave after wave of narratives about her, leaves a deeply unsettling chill. Fittingly, the film’s title in Taiwan translates to Ugly to Death — a spot-on play on a Chinese slang that means both “hideously ugly” and, quite literally, “ugly enough to cost a life.”
My recent interest in fact-checking has led me to think often about how distorted impressions take hold, how rumours are formed and why people believe them. These questions kept circling in my mind as I watched the film.
We tend to think verification means finding original sources, checking dates and locations, then deciding whether a claim is true or false. But the film reminded me that accounts of a person may also be tainted by prejudice, conjecture and hearsay. These need not stem from one person’s malice. They do not necessarily stem from the malice of any single person, yet through repeated retelling, they can harden into a sense of certainty that makes people believe there is no need to ask any further questions.
Fact-checking must go beyond testing individual allegations to consider how, cumulatively, they shape our understanding of their subject. In relationships between individuals, communities and even countries, impressions can eclipse facts and leave lasting negative perceptions. That is precisely what information manipulation seeks to achieve.
Recently, haze from forest fires has drawn attention to relations between Singapore and Indonesia, accompanied by a flurry of false information. Last week, CNA Verify found nearly 400 posts spreading false or unsubstantiated allegations against Singapore. These included claims that Singapore’s sovereign wealth fund had orchestrated a plunge in Indonesia’s stock market, and that two Indonesian public figures had secretly met Singapore’s ambassador, insinuating that they were colluding with Singapore for political ends. Some accounts posted identical text and images at around the same time, suggesting possible coordination. However, the investigation could not establish whether a single operator was behind them.
By deftly combining the public distress caused by Indonesia’s stock market crash with populist nationalism, such disinformation reportedly convinced a substantial proportion of people in the country’s lower- and middle-income online communities. Among Indonesian intellectuals and mainstream financial and business circles, however, it was widely seen as political agitation with little credibility.
Southeast Asia also experienced a severe transboundary haze crisis in 2015. Analysing bilateral relations at the time, Singapore’s former ambassador to Indonesia, Barry Desker, noted that some Indonesians believed Singapore’s success had come at Indonesia’s expense, and that Singapore should therefore be grateful to Indonesia. He also drew connections between the disputes then over haze, airspace, assets and other issues.
He said this did not represent the views of all Indonesians, but was a recurring narrative used to interpreting the relationship. Singapore is often portrayed as a calculating small country that profits off its neighbours. And while history may not repeat itself word for word, human nature and social or political dynamics mean that any fresh dispute can easily trigger striking parallels.
National status and dignity are also involved. Being respected as a country of consequence with the freedom to act independently is itself a political goal, and can also serve as a means of mobilising domestic support. The public’s expectations of foreign policy often include whether the country is treated fairly and whether its leaders can uphold national interests. Larger countries with abundant resources have higher expectations of the respect they should command.
Such expectations can encourage cooperation and shared responsibility for the region. Yet, they can also turn into an overbearing demand that smaller neighbours accommodate them. Blaming outsiders is the easiest way to provide a scapegoat for complex problems, and often makes it easier to rally domestic support than the grappling with the finer details of policy and institutions. Disinformation then does more than fabricate an event; it can also exploit a familiar narrative to give anger a target.
We have little control over the labels others attach to Singapore. Specific allegations must be addressed, and deliberate fabrications need to be exposed. But we cannot let others’ narratives dictate our actions. We must continue to provide the assistance we should, establish the facts that need establishing and fulfil our responsibilities.
In dealing with the haze, Singapore should do its part by offering help. Whether the other side accepts will depend on its own considerations. Whether we make the offer and stand ready to act reflects how we view a problem we face together. Even when disputes are accompanied by unfriendly remarks, affected people still need help, and the pollution still needs to be tackled.
At the same time, any credible leads suggesting that companies, funds or other interests linked to Singapore may be involved should be thoroughly investigated. Where companies are registered, who controls them and what they have actually done must each be established.
Investigations serve both to establish responsibility and to uncover the truth. Any unlawful conduct must be dealt with under the law; any lapses must be identified and corrected. Where allegations lack supporting evidence, that too should be made clear, rather than leaving people under a lasting cloud of suspicion. As a country governed by the rule of law, Singapore must uphold these standards. We should neither dismiss allegations simply because they come from abroad nor prejudge matters because public opinion is running high.
Verification is, of course, difficult. Information may be held overseas, corporate relationships may be complex, and investigations require time and cooperation. But difficulty is no excuse for inaction. Doing what we should may not stop others from labelling Singapore. At the very least, we must ensure that those labels do not dictate our own understanding of the facts. Our judgements about responsibility must withstand the same rigorous scrutiny.
(The writer is deputy editor-in-chief of SPH Media’s Chinese Media Group.)
