Building inclusive conversations in civil society

These are exciting times for civil society in Singapore, not least for how ongoing debates on inequality have inspired passionate, ground-up dialogues dedicated to examining social issues in depth.

In August alone, AWARE Singapore held a public dialogue to launch its report on challenges faced by low-income mothers, while several non-profits collaborated to host a ‘Deep-Dive Discussion’ of sociologist Teo You Yenn’s book, This Is What Inequality Looks Like.

The National Youth Council also ran a series of discussions under the theme #IsLifeFair, to explore millennials’ views on social inequality.

Such dialogues represent a positive turn.

While advocacy groups once focused on raising support or awareness for their causes through public talks, charity fundraisers and the like, these are now complemented by conversations welcoming plural perspectives on relevant issues.

Singaporeans have come forward to share their views on what a society ‘based on justice and equality’ might look like.

Some of these dialogues, however, fall short of engaging a diverse audience, and we – as organisers and participants – must strive to make them truly accessible platforms for inclusive conversation.

Usually held to engage public stakeholders or present research findings, civil society dialogues depend on a shared culture of intellectual honesty and respectful disagreement.

They also rely on generous hosts: spaces like AGORA at Midview City, or the former Artistry Café on Jalan Pinang, where a wide range of discussions have taken place over the years.

Over the past year, I have attended a good number of dialogues, and also had the privilege of organising several on migration, journalism, and other issues.

Listening can be hard work, and I have been struck time and again by participants’ willingness to hear their fellow citizens out.

Equally, I’ve been moved by their readiness to bring their own experiences to the table. These qualities speak of a growing community interested in social issues, and deeply committed to enriching our common life.

At the same time, I have noticed that these events are most frequently attended by a certain demographic, namely, well-spoken twenty-somethings who are familiar with social causes, fashionable (if slightly geeky), and conversant in social science jargon.

Unsurprisingly, they also tend to be affluent, highly-educated and tech-savvy. These observations resonate with many of my fellow organisers.

Clearly, well-heeled youths are not the only ones interested in social issues. Step into any kopitiam and you’ll hear the same issues discussed in lively Singlish by a very different crowd.

But it is clear that the conversations in civil society reach a relatively narrow audience, and there are two dangers to this.

For one, there is the possibility that dialogues held with the best intentions of examining potential rifts in society might ironically reinforce differences of class, age and education.

This would undermine the objective of creating platforms for public engagement that are open, inclusive, and affirming.

A second, more subtle danger is that engagement with social issues will become associated with other markers of affluence, such that showing concern for one cause or another might turn into a status symbol for the young elite.

Honest dialogue, however, should never belong only to an ‘in’ crowd.

How can we avoid these negative outcomes?

First, we must translate dialogues into popular terms. There may be no ‘dialect’ peculiar to the ‘man on the street’, but the fact remains that many dialogues draw on a vocabulary unfamiliar to most Singaporeans.

Terms like ‘redistribution’, ‘precarity’, and even ‘inequality’ are often used to refer to concepts that participants are assumed to be familiar with, making discussions hard to follow for those who are not.

We must work to make the terms of discussion more accessible, and less intimidating.

But dialogues must also be translated into policy terms. Civil society dialogues arguably do not do enough to close the loop between participants and policymakers.

Many Singaporeans, unfortunately, do not perceive the state as active or engaged in listening to their views.

Nevertheless, policymakers have an interest and obligation in engaging with public perspectives, and civil society groups can help translate feedback into policy by making concreate recommendations informed by public opinion.  

For our dialogues to move forward, in other words, organisers and participants alike must seek to be fluent in the languages of popular and policy discourse.

Some believe that translating thorny discussions of social issues into lay terms or policy proposals will require watering down complex debates. This is not necessarily the case.

My own experience in literary translation suggests, rather, that moving effectively between tongues requires sensitivity to the needs of our audiences, and an awareness of the limitations of our own first (most comfortable) languages.

These are skills that we are not unfamiliar with.

Every young Singaporean can code-switch between the registers used in the classroom, family gathering, or hawker centre.

We master different voices for different contexts, a process that prepares us well for the tough work of building truly inclusive dialogues with our fellow citizens.

As a start, we can be encouraged by the many civil society organisers who actively engage participants from disadvantaged social backgrounds.

But diversity among attendees will only go so far if the conversations themselves are not designed to travel across lines of privilege and difference.

Creating inclusive dialogues requires that we learn to speak to each other, not in the language we are most familiar with, but in terms easily understood and engaged with by all.

That is when our conversations will embody the values they hope to strengthen, and bring society closer.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Theophilus Kwek is a writer and researcher. A recent graduate of Oxford University, he studies migration issues and has been shortlisted twice for the Singapore Literature Prize.