The Presence of Absence -- Political Singapore

I am Xenoboy. I am the Political Savant.

Today we edify politics in Singapore and name its absence. The usurpation of politics as a signifier in Singapore occurred through the depoliticisation process of the PAP's consolidation of regime sustenance. The irony is this. The process was itself an exercise of the political.

Politics = PAP = economics = security

The slippage has occurred. The absence of political meaning and the silencing of the political. A meaning slipped away through the course of Singapore's development but yet like all silencing in history, the silenced resists this. In the absence, there remains the presence of the political. The ghost of the political in Singapore whispers in the enactment of ficciones, in the pracitioners of the ficciones (one meaning : a narrative about writing a narrative which is not intended to be written), Catherine Lim, Kuo Pao Kun, Alfian. It was one of these who struck an arrow straight in the heart of the political. The process of usurping the signification of politics "suddenly" reared its hydra head in the notion of OB markers. The fear of the usurpers was apparent. The silenced spoke. The absence materialized. Learn well, the practitioners of the non-ficciones in Singapore politics. The Opposition fails because it grasps not that which was usurped. The Opposition flounders for its inability to see the silenced. The opponents of the Casino, as I have noted earlier suffers the same malaise. It grasps not what was usurped.

I am Xenoboy. I am the Political Savant.

The practioners of ficciones have multiplied rhizomatically in current Singapore. If the whole truth of political Singapore cannot be uttered, than lets mesh with the fiction. Hence, ficcione. The silenced articulates for representation in an effective form. The ficcione offers this form.

I am Xenoboy. I am the Political Savant.

Quote of the Day --

"And when those immense structures go down, no one hears ... a flash and then its gone leaving behind a feeling that something happened there once like wind tearing at the current, but no memory and no crying either ... there was no one to tell us what it meant when it meant what it did" -- John Ashberry, Flow Chart