in case you missed this really good column....

A world-class quandary

By Tan Shzr Ee
May 24, 2007
The Straits Times

THE term 'world-class' has become an irritating tag bandied about by too many politicians, administrators and businessmen - not just in Singapore, of course. They are worn and shown off as some kind of medal of honour, or referred to as the one-and-only ideal of societal attainment nearly-but-not-quite-reached.

I speak of world-class cities. World-class transport systems. World-class health-care systems. World-class newspapers. World-class universities. World-class airlines. World-class restaurants.

But what does world-class mean exactly? My theory is that it doesn't mean anything at all.

It's almost a kind of delusion of grandeur, akin to Miss USA hopefuls declaring in charming naivete that their single wish for mankind is 'world peace'.

But you might disagree. World-class is about achieving international standards, you say. To which, I would then ask, what international standard? Whose international standard?

With the world being so diverse, topsy-turvy, over-populated in the least friendly of territories and under-economised in places that don't show up on Google Earth, one wonders how barometers of excellence can make any more sense these days.



But you might say that 'international standards' come through being cosmopolitan and living in a globalised environment. They are an acknowledged indicator of quality - of life, industry and luxury.

But who does the acknowledging, I wonder?

To some, world-class evokes images of ISO qualifications, tall skyscrapers and 'vibrantly hubbing' communities.

To others, like a friend of mine, 'world-class' means clean air, snarl-less traffic and affordable housing.

She has just returned from a working stint in a poor South-east Asian country and has discovered the finer things in life.

'Economics is not everything, you know,' she says with disdain.

I play the devil's advocate for once and suggest that the affluence and expensiveness of it all only adds to the greater aura of world-class-hood, to which she retorts: 'But that's exactly my point.'

Clearly, there is more than one definition of world-class going around the world. My friend is grateful that - in the case of Singapore's modern conveniences and efficiency-buoyed affluence - she doesn't have to take five-hour bus rides to stock up on world-class vitamins from her world-class neighbourhood pharmacy.

Still, she sees the aspiration to world-class-hood as a symptom of lacking a history and soul.

She says: 'Because we don't really have a national or cultural identity, we are rather kiasu and would fill this emptiness by striving to be what the rest of the Western developed nations are like.

'We have to be world-class because we don't know what else to be.'

So world-class is about Western standards now?

How about world-class kiasu-ness, then?

But seriously, unlike my friend, I believe that Singapore does have a culture of its own, or indeed several kinds of culture - administrative, political, food or otherwise.

Yet it so often appears to me that holders of this culture suffer the chip-on-the-shoulder mindset of needing to validate everything with an external stamp of 'quality'.

Upon apparently attaining this elusive standard, they promptly shout to the whole world that a world record has been broken, that a first has been reached, and that a new best has been attained.

But this seems to undermine the world-class nature of its being. For if you are truly world-class, the world will have heard about it already.

Why bother to be world-class? Why not just be?

My fears, sometimes, are that this rush for world-class-hood, this relentless striving for excellence and achievement are rooted in the false belief that there is no other way.

But there are other ways.

I'm not prescribing underachievement as a life philosophy, but wouldn't it be an ethical shame if every teacher, every administrator and every artist plied their trade to win prizes, instead of quietly opening minds, solving logistic problems and making art?

I don't strive to be a world-class newspaper columnist. I only write in the tiny hope of being read, and potentially snorted at or argued with. If there was a world-class 'something' I could ever want, it would be that even more elusive 'world-class happiness'.

I'll probably never find this 'world-class happiness', unless I overhaul my life values and move to Bhutan, which strives for a Gross National Happiness. Failing which, I paraphrase another friend, who works in a cultural organisation that prides itself on its international standards of excellence:

'Forget world-class. Just upgrade me to business class.'