It was an unlikely strike. There were no left-leaning slogans. No chanting in Mandarin. This was a bunch of English-speaking or English-educated post-1945 baby boomers who had just come of age, so to speak. They were young and innocent. Not necessarily the best and brightest but definitely idealistic. Or, they had a strong sense of fair play at least. A sense of fairness and justice. That was what drove the newly elected youthful leadership of The Straits Times chapel (branch) of the Singapore National Union of Journalists (SNUJ) to mobilise and stage The Straits Times strike in December 1971, two days before Christmas.
Those were lean and hungry years where a conscious choice had to be made whether one should have roti prata with egg or something more basic — prata without egg. Those of us who were then working in The Straits Times, cadet journalists or seasoned journalists, all shared quite a few things in common: the passion to tell a story; a sense of justice and fair play; not much of an urge to make money, but a strong desire to move on in life. Set against this backdrop was the august newspaper group of The Straits Times, whose management appeared to live in a world of its own. Posh cars. Paid company-owned holiday villas in Fraser’s Hill/Cameron Highlands. “They” had everything and never understood why “we” were angry or even hungry. It was a major disconnect of minds.
The ground was fertile and the troops were ready. To the surprise of the ancien régime, a new leadership emerged overnight led by Clement Mesenas, as chairman of the SNUJ (Straits Times branch). An unusual man with an unusual outlook, Clement, a medical college dropout, stepped forward and accepted the mantle of leadership. This is a story that has to be told. Not just for those of us who were then working in The Straits Times. It is a story also for all past and present journalists, writers, editors and even (why not?) management and students of journalism.
Clement is eminently qualified to give this metanarrative. It was all about momentum. The chapel’s simple messages calling for “change” and “fairness” struck an immediate chord among the youthful journalists/reporters, and even the printers in The Straits Times banded under the Singapore Printing Employees’ Union.
In all honesty, I cannot recall any of us having uttered or made any reference to “press freedom”. That was not the dominant issue. It could or might have been lurking in our minds but it was not the “battle cry”.
Looking back, even though the tension at times was killing us, I recall we had fun. Camaraderie was forged from the sleepless nights of “strategy sessions”. We argued. We disagreed. We fought. But we believed. And we were united. We acted as one. We never entertained any thought that we might fail. Or we didn’t know what failure was. That was our greatest asset!
This little tract does not pretend to be an intellectual or scholarly discourse on journalism or even “industrial action”. Were we “pawns” in a greater political chess game? If we were, we were unwitting pawns. But that’s not our story. Ours is a story of ordinary young men and women who believed in what they did. And when they felt that things were not right, they merely stepped forward and did what they thought was right. The upshot of The Straits Times strike was a victory for all. Sophisticated minds or cynics might throw up some unanswered or unanswerable questions. The answers are not important, as this book is a tribute to youth and innocence.
Victor Ng Fook Ai*
one of the Young Turks who led the 1971 Straits Times strike
* Victor Ng left The Straits Times after the strike, went to London and returned with an M.Sc (Econs). He went on to seed-fund and build a decent portfolio of ventures primarily in China. He was awarded the PBM by the president of the Republic of Singapore in 1992 for his services to the community.