Self-Censorship: Singapore's Shame has landed in Singapore's academic landscape, but perhaps not where you would expect to find it. The book by THINK Centre director James Gomez, while flying off the shelves of Singapore's bookstores and finding its way into libraries seems to be selling well at the Kent Ridge campus of the National University of Singapore, yet its presence is not quite visible to the naked eye.

The National University of Singapore Co-operative Society Book Store, located beneath the campus's central library, ordered 30 copies from publisher Select Books for use in a political science post-graduate seminar on public policy, entitled Politics and Policy in Southeast Asia. Dr. Emil Bolongaita, who expressed his opinion that the book has its uses in NUS's academic community, will teach the course. Specifically, for his own instruction, he said the book offers valuable points for discussion on questions of citizenship, as well as demands for expansion of political space within a society, and how government policymakers should forge their responses.

Apparently Dr. Bolongaita and his students were not the only Co-op customers to recognize the value of the book's message. Self-Censorship sold heartily in its first few days on the bookshelves, so much so that a second order of 20 more copies were placed, when suddenly the book was yanked from the shelves by Co-op management.

Singapore's academic community is well represented inside the Co-op, which sells political commentary and analysis by a variety of NUS professors published by the Singapore University Press, as well as publications from the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies and the Institute of Policy Studies.

But somehow, Self-Censorship was deemed unmarketable by Co-op staff, despite its excellent turnover with Singaporean booksellers such as MPH and Select Books. It is also available in Kinokuniya, Borders and WHSmith at Changi Airport.

Judgements about marketability may frequently constitute a classical self-fulfilling prophecy, and in this case, the Co-op management may have designed the situation that made the book so difficult to sell. The conspicuous yellow-cover was made much more difficult to locate for most Co-op shoppers. This was related to a decision made by Co-op management to offer the book on an ask-only basis. This policy meant that while the book was available, it could only be found by asking staff sitting at the information counter in the back of the store. There, behind the desk, a towering stack of the books was placed on another shelf, spine-side facing inward, as if the cover was embarrassed to show itself to the world.

Some weeks after forcing shoppers to ask for the book from 'that Gomez character,' the Co-op made another decision, and returned all their remaining copies of the book to the publisher, Select Books. Interested parties will likely never know if the inquiries of this journalist or other factors motivated this decision, but it means that NUS students will no longer be able to buy the book at the University's official book store.

Meanwhile, across campus, those willing to look a little harder could locate the book much more easily. Located beneath the Yusof Ishak House is a sundry goods shop named Ismath Store, selling everything from candy and cold drinks to peanuts and postcards. The kind lady and gentleman operating this vending stall agreed to show a large yellow poster announcing the sale of Singapore's Shame that can be seen fifty meters on ones' approach to the campus Post Office. It retails here at S$14, the cheapest price in town. While the book is acceptable for this mom-and-pop store selling everyday items to the public, it has been deemed too controversial for the University's academic public.

At least, too controversial for some and not others. One can easily note the irony in the fact that the author presented a seminar paper on political culture in multi-ethnic Singapore on the 2 March at the Malay Studies Department, and the fact that it was ordered for use in a university class at all.

One spin-off of this self-censorship fiasco was the opportunity to harness the potential of the newsstands in promoting and selling the book. Presently the book is available in some selected newsstands throughout the island, including the very well known corner magazine stand at Holland Village. The facts would seem to indicate that the book's message resonates enough that it can be sold in a variety of locations, whether mom-and-pop, specialty bookstore, or via mail order. In the wake of the book's launch in Jakarta, forthcoming presentation in Malaysia, and availability in Australia, the title seems headed for its first reprint. The book's potential was first recognized by CNBC's Asian Wall Street Journal Bulletin, and now, regional publications from Asiaweek to the Far Eastern Economic Review have noted the book to be worthy of review in light of Singapore's changing relations between state and society.

What could explain the Co-op's rationalization for withholding this title from the academic public that frequents the store? Only they would know the kinds of reasoning that would be useful to justify such a decision, but they delayed, and ultimately declined comment. The decision to withdraw the book from the shelves seems especially unusual given Dr. Bolongaita's feeling that no one from the university administration had taken any umbrage with his ordering of the book for use in a class. If the university has not disproved of the book in one context, it seems highly unlikely that it would express reservations in another. But in the Co-op's case, it seems apparent that in the places where ideas are supposed to flow freely, supported by notions of academic and intellectual openness, gatekeepers still see themselves as guardians of free thought. Therein lies the mystery of Singapore's Shame.

	P21