In April 1952, just as the postmen’s union was about to go on strike, Goh Keng Swee introduced me to the associate editor of the Singapore Standard, S Rajaratnam.  Keng Swee said Raja was sympathetic to workers and trade unions, and could be helpful.  As the union’s legal adviser, I was keen to meet him.  By the pool at the Singapore Chinese Swimming Club, against the blare of loud music, I described to him the case for the postmen.  He promised to help.

When the strike started, the Singa­pore Standard reported it extensively.  This forced the British-owned Straits Times to do the same.  Raja wrote editorials attacking the colonial government with wit, punch and vigour.  Without the Singapore Standard, the Straits Times could have downplayed the strike.  As it was, the British colonial government was regularly lambasted for several weeks on the front pages of the Singapore Standard, and its officials got the worst of the argument. 

The strike ended with concessions to the union, and changed the course of history.  A rash of negotiations, arbitrations and strikes followed, with the unions often appointing me their lawyer.  This built up a mass following for our cause.

Raja, Goh Keng Swee, Toh Chin Chye, Kenny Byrne and I worked together to form the PAP. We launched it in November 1954.   Raja was sacked from the Singapore Standard for supporting us.  He started a paper of his own, a weekly called “The Rakyat” (the people) and put his own money into it.  But he was no good at business or administration.  He received few advertisements and had to close it when he lost his savings.  He then worked for the Straits Times until he resigned to stand for election in 1959.  He won and became minister for culture.

In the ministry of culture, he was enthusiastic, trying to forge a common Malayan identity and a Malayan culture.  He sponsored “aneka ragam rakyat”, concerts presenting multi-cultural items.  He was our civil servants’ favourite minister, courteous, understanding, considerate and friendly.

Raja was at his best when under attack.  I have vivid memories of him when we were pummelled by the Communists from 1961 to 1963.  Almost everyday they berated and denounced us at mass rallies and in the Chinese language press.  At times I felt weary rebutting their accusations, but Raja was tireless.  A chain smoker always with a cigarette between his lips and taking sips of coffee or tea during pauses, he would bang away at his typewriter, to knock down every one of their points. He did this with inexhaustible energy and gusto. He enjoyed stringing words together to capture people’s attention and make fun of or demolish our opponent’s arguments.  His strength was as a thinker and a writer, a man of honour, with great moral courage.

After Independence, Raja’s task as foreign minister was to make the most friends and the least enemies.  He was the right man for the job.  He had a way with people, enormous charm, integrity and character.  He was self-possessed, had a good strong voice, and won the confidence of those who dealt with him.  Representing a small country like Singapore was not easy, but he got our point of view taken into consideration when decisions that affected us were made.

He had a generous heart and was a good judge of character.   In the 1960s, when we were short of trained talent in the foreign office and wanted an ambassador to send to the United Nations, he suggested Tommy Koh from our law faculty.  I knew Tommy as a soft-hearted academic.  Raja convinced me that he would defend Singapore’s interests well at the UN, and that his quiet, friendly approach would go down well with Third World representatives. Tommy Koh proved a resounding success as our ambassador. 

Raja harboured no grudge against old opponents and bore no abiding animosities.  When casting around for a good ambassador to Paris in the late 1970s, he proposed David Marshall, a man who had given us much trouble in the 1950s and 60s, when he tried to make use of the communists, but was in fact used by them. Raja argued that Marshall spoke French fluently, if ungrammatically, and that his enthusiasm, drive, energy and intelligence would serve our interests in Paris.  I trusted Raja’s judgement and agreed.  Marshall turned out to be an articulate and effective ambassador for 15 years.

Calm and quiet in demeanour, Raja never showed fear or tension in a crisis and would pursue his objectives with determination and skill whether in political battles at home or in diplomatic tussles abroad.

Raja had another great quality.  He was happy to give way to new blood. Together with Keng Swee, he strongly supported my bringing in younger talent for the party and the government.  He believed that the old guard had a responsibility to expose a younger team to the job and give them enough experience before they took over.

In 1980 I made him Second Deputy Prime Minister to oversee foreign affairs as S Dhanabalan took over as foreign minister.  In 1985, I promoted him as Senior Minister to make way for Goh Chok Tong to gain experience as Deputy Prime Minister. After Raja retired in 1988, he kept himself busy in the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. 

The Postmen’s strike in 1952 was the start of a friendship that was to grow as we worked together on many issues.  I cannot count the thousands of hours we spent together over the years, discussing our doubts, our fears and our hopes. Whatever the outcome of an issue we had to resolve, whether it ended in an advance or a setback, we got to know better each other’s biases and strengths. We learned to complement each other. Most of all we trusted each other. He was the older man, but he had an optimistic streak that was infectious.

After the 1964 communal riots in Singapore engineered by Ultras from across the causeway, I had grave forebodings of more intense communal conflicts to come. As the crisis developed, I poured out my fears to Raja of a communal bloodbath. He injected an upbeat mood by painting a more positive outcome. “Harry” he said, “they want us to be fearful and give in. But you know we can peacefully rally the races together not just in Singapore but also in peninsular Malaya, Sabah and Sarawak. Then the Ultras will have to think again. Can they engineer trouble across Malaysia. Can they do that without harming themselves?”

That was how we came to launch the Malaysian Solidarity Convention. He assured me that he, Toh Chin Chye and the PAP leaders who came from Malaya would get their friends together and muster support. I felt reassured. My most lasting memory of him was his courage.  Never for one moment did he consider giving up the fight. He was a tower of strength to all around him.   

But it was to have an unexpected outcome, the separation of Singapore, something we, especially he and those with families in Malaya, never wanted.  He signed the Separation Agreement most reluctantly. Having unwittingly contributed to this unhappy result, he set out to make the best of it. He worked tirelessly for a multi-racial Singapore where no minority would be sat upon.

His most enduring legacy is our National Pledge.  After two communal riots in 1964 and the tensions and suspicions of Separation, we were not at our most optimistic. In spite of our dark mood at the time, I felt Raja would have the conviction and optimism to express our aspirations. I got Raja to draft it.  He crafted the words, I tightened them. The cabinet adopted them as the National Pledge. It was an act of faith.

The experiences we shared in this struggle, confronting problems and crises, forged an enduring bond between us.

A few years ago he began to lose his memory.  When I visited him in 1998, he did not recognise me. 

With his passing, Singaporeans have lost a patriot, a man of deep conviction and principle.  His contribution was not in bricks and mortar, or concrete and glass, but in ideas, sentiment and spirit. Everyday when the pledge is recited in our schools, our children are reminded to live up to our aspirations as Raja expressed them.

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