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May 30, 2009 Saturday
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Why 1959 matters
The central theme of the 1959 election campaign was the people of S'pore against privileged elites

By Thum Ping Tjin

THE significance of 1959 has faded out of our popular consciousness. Other dates and events, most notably 1942 and 1965, have surpassed our recognition of 1959 as a turning point in Singapore's history.

Yet to be alive at the time was to live amid one of the most exciting, eventful years of Singapore's history.

Singapore's economy had finally emerged from the post-Korean War slump. New technology, epitomised by the launch of Sputnik in 1958 and the opening of the first commercial nuclear power plant in Sellafield, England in 1956, promised to revolutionise the way people lived.

The opening of Nanyang University in 1958 heralded the availability of higher education for all who desired it. In a state which boasted one of Asia's highest standards of living, education and medical care, the choices and possibilities open to people seemed limitless.

The problem, of course, was that the benefits of the technological and economic transformations that were reshaping the world had, in Singapore, been largely monopolised by the privileged colonial and commercial elite.

The vast majority of Singapore's population still lived in relative poverty, with no social welfare provisions amid a severe housing shortage.

They could not afford private health care and queued long hours for treatment at one of Singapore's public hospitals. There were not enough jobs being created to meet the numerous young adults entering the workforce every year.

Singapore's economy was still dependent on trade, chiefly the export of rubber and tin, and buffeted by the fluctuations in world commodity prices.

Yet the successes of Singapore's first partially elected government had demonstrated how electoral democracy could produce a government that was responsive to the people and governed on behalf of all the people, and not just the elites.

The Labour Front government, led first by Mr David Marshall and then by Mr Lim Yew Hock, produced a number of very important legislation that would have a profound effect on Singapore, including the creation of the Central Provident Fund and the Housing and Development Board.

Mr Marshall introduced Meet-the-People Sessions, forcing government officials and civil servants to come face to face with the public they were supposed to be serving.

The public crammed themselves into the Legislative Assembly gallery to listen to the intense debate between Mr Marshall and the then leader of the opposition, Mr Lee Kuan Yew. Their intelligent and informed verbal sparring was a clear sign to the world that the maturing Singaporean democracy was vibrant and productive.

Meanwhile, the people of Singapore had learnt to take responsibility for their own future. They organised themselves into political parties, trade unions and social action groups.

Capable and determined, they forced the colonial authorities to recognise that the continued promise of laissez-faire economic growth would no longer be enough.

The people were thirsting for their own rights and freedoms and would not be dissuaded from winning them.

In the face of scepticism and discouragement by the colonial authorities, Nanyang University, the people's university, was created.

It was organised by private enterprise and funded by donations from Singaporeans from all walks of life. It was the first state-wide popular campaign in Singapore's history, and served notice to the colonial government that if it would not provide for Singapore, Singaporeans would provide for it themselves.

Even so, there was much left to be done. The British government had held Malaya captive to global capitalism, minimising industrialisation to maximise production of raw materials, which they sold on the world market to finance the post-war reconstruction of Britain. It was widely recognised within the Federation and Singapore that industrialisation was needed to stabilise the local economy and create jobs.

As long as Britain held the levers of power, they would squeeze every last drop out of Malaya's rubber trees and tin mines, and Malaya would continue to be buffeted by the vagaries of the international commodity market.

Only fully self-governing states could hope to begin the process of economic development that the economies of the federation and Singapore needed.

Meanwhile, secret societies continued to rule the streets. Corruption and inefficiency infested the government and civil service. Most of all, the question of Singapore's complete independence, reunification with the Malayan mainland and the continuation of its democratic government needed to be addressed.

With so much at stake, the May 1959 election campaign was the most open and hotly contested in Singapore's history.

A total of 194 people, including nine women, contested Singapore's 51 constituencies, with up to seven people contesting each seat.

The parties campaigned on economic development, clean and efficient government, and safety and security for Singaporeans. The central theme of the campaign was the people of Singapore against the privileged elites.

Every party sought to claim the mantle of the people's voice. The People's Action Party (PAP) fielded many candidates from blue-collar professions, including farmers, barbers, carpenters and a seamstress.

The PAP's resounding victory, on a whopping 92.9 per cent turnout, cut across ethnic, religious and class lines.

It was more than just a victory for a well-run political party. Singapore was now a fully functioning democracy, where the rights of the people would be protected and their interests attended to.

The government was not only fully elected with complete internal control, vested with responsibility for the care of the people, but was also led by a party which was in touch with and represented the interests of the common people.

Singapore still faced an uncertain future, but now Singaporeans had control of their own destinies.

A new epoch had begun. Anything was possible. The future was, at long last, the Singaporean's very own.

Such a bold statement may seem excessive. But the fact remains that until Turnbull published A History of Singapore in 1977, Singapore had always been perceived as part of the Malayan peninsula, separated by accident of history and political expedience, the border an artificial line writ on water. Turnbull’s groundbreaking work conceived of Singapore as distinct, a country with circumstance unique to itself, a nation with historical roots stretching back in time. She gave us Singaporeans a history to anchor ourselves to.

As such it was unsurprising that when the Singapore government woke up to the idea of a national education programme, it was Turnbull’s understated, matter-of-fact historical narrative which became the basis for the official ‘Singapore Story’.

Turnbull’s work was more than convenient. Her values, born of the Great Depression, forged by Hitler’s relentless bombing, and sharpened by the poverty of post-war Britain, emphasised stability, hard work, and thrift. These values influenced her work and were exactly the values that the Singapore government wished to inculcate. Her conservative approach to history, which told the story based upon the lives of politicians and leaders, mirrored the government’s view of their achievements.

However, the institutionalisation of her work as orthodoxy has also meant that the ‘Singapore Story’ inherited its weaknesses. In particular, it rejects the possibility of alternative contexts to Singapore history. Turnbull herself, having been witness to much of Singapore’s history, gave greater weight to personal experience and was doubtful of the merit of other perspectives. Her staunch defence of that approach has helped to legitimise the exclusion of other equally valid frameworks for Singaporean history.

Sunshine and Adventure

Constance Mary Turnbull grew up in Coventry, but was forced to leave often. An only child, she was sent away several times to live with relatives as the family struggled to make ends meet. During World War II, she was evacuated thrice as Nazi Germany made a determined attempt to wipe Coventry off the map. Her family, fortunately, survived, as did the spirit of defiance. Her school’s headmistress told the pupils that in order to beat Hitler, they were all going to have to get A’s in every subject at their School Certificate examinations. A gasp went around the room, but when the results were announced, Turnbull had done her part. Studying in bombed-out classrooms with no tables or chairs, she still managed to get all A's and win a county scholarship.

Opportunities for women in post-war Britain were nonexistent, and the poverty and rationing depressed her. Her heart longed for more. One morning, having arrived early for an appointment in London, she walked into the Appointments Board office near Euston Square.

“Have you got something exciting a long way away where the sun shines?” she asked.

“What about Kuala Lumpur?”

“Well, that sounds perfect!”

The only problem was, no one in the office actually knew where Kuala Lumpur was, so they got out an atlas to find it.

When the Chief Secretary of the Federation of Malaya, Sir David Watherston, learnt women were being recruited, he cancelled the scheme, arguing that the natives would never work under women. Turnbull, however, had already been despatched, one of only two female officers ever in the Malayan Civil Service.

Coming from grey, spartan England, Malaya seemed to Turnbull a technicolour land of plenty. She arrived at the height of the Emergency, in the midst of tremendously exciting times. During the 1955 federal elections, she served as an elections officer in rural Kelantan, where the local women immediately warmed to her. She would witness all the milestones of Malayan independence: Federation’s independence in 1957, Singapore’s 1959 achievement of self-government, the 1963 formation of Malaysia and separation in 1965.

In Singapore, she also met many of the future leaders she would write about. Dr. Toh Chin Chye, the PAP's first chairman, had the room next to hers at the University of Malaya in Singapore, where the PAP’s Old Guard would hold late night discussions. “If only walls could talk,” she would later muse.

Academia had come calling in 1955. The glass ceiling prevented any promotion in the Civil Service, so when she was offered a position teaching history at the University, she took it. She had intended to teach for only a year or two, but history became a fifty-three year love affair.

Cyril Parkinson, head of the History Department, instilled in her two important beliefs: the first, that they had a responsibility to educate local students to lead their own country. So, unlike the other departments, they accepted as many capable students as he could. Consequently, Turnbull taught many of Malaya and Singapore’s first generation of civil service administrators, who graduated with history degrees.

The second was that students should be learning their own history. He devised a scheme to divide Malayan history amongst his department to research. From this came the beginnings of modern Malayan historiography, including Turnbull’s first book, The Straits Settlements, 1826-67, the first in a long and distinguished career. She continued to write and research right up to the end, having finished the final revisions for the 3rd edition of A History of Singapore the week before she died.

By 1971, she was the very last expatriate left in the University of Singapore. The University had been phasing out expatriates, so with no permanent contract on offer, she moved to the University of Hong Kong, where she spent the rest of her academic career. She retired from there in 1990, a full Professor and Head of the History department.

She moved home, first to Northamptonshire and then to Oxford. There she was active in the University community, and held various fellowships and visiting professorships at other universities throughout the UK. A tireless advocate and friend of Singapore, she spent much time and effort promoting Southeast Asian studies. She was a friend and mentor to many Singaporean students who passed through. But with typical grace and humility, she always felt surprised when they came to her doorstep, looking to meet the Grand Old Lady of Singapore history. A teacher to the end, she would read and critique their work, and tell them stories of Malaya as it had been, when she stepped off the airplane, a young woman looking for a little sunshine and adventure.

Professor C. Mary Turnbull, historian, born February 9th, 1927, died September 5th, 2008, aged 81. Her husband, Leonard Rayner, an accountant, predeceased her. She is survived by two daughters and three grandchildren. A fund to benefit Southeast Asian studies in the University of Oxford is being organised in her memory.

[NB: This is an extended version of the article that was published in the Straits Times on Monday, 6 October 2008.]

I wish to address the effectiveness of the foreign talent scheme in the sporting arena, before moving on to address the question of sport in general as government policy, and then offering concrete proposals for governmental action.

This essay will be published in three parts. Part I will focus on the foreign talent scheme, assessing its aims and achievements. Part II will focus on sports policy in Singapore, ask what its goals should be, and assess how Singapore meets them. Part III will focus on concrete proposals for Singapore to follow, and highlight successful examples inside and outside Singapore that we can emulate.

Part I: The Foreign Talent Scheme

The government asserts that this policy increases the level of competition for Singaporean athletes, thus raising local standards for sport overall. In the face of increased competition, local athletes will also improve alongside the imported athletes. The foreign talent scheme has been in place for well over a decade. Li Jiawei, for instance, was recruited when she was 14 and is now 27. This is sufficient time to measure the success of the scheme. A decade is generally the time needed to train a world-class athlete from scratch. Athletic careers, especially in the more physically demanding sports, rarely last more than two decades. The prime time of an athlete's career is generally between the 10th and 20th year in a sport.

Our government's goals are to win medals at major competitions. By their own measure, however, the scheme has not worked. At the Beijing Olympics, only imported athletes came close to winning medals (the table-tennis women, and Tao Li in the Swimming). At the 2006 Asian Games, Singapore did well with eight gold medals, but did so in sports that we have no imported athletes- sailing, bowling, bodybuilding. Our one other gold came from Tao Li in swimming. Of our five golds at the 2006 Commonwealth Games, four were by table tennis imports and one in shooting, a sport with no imports. By the government's own measure, the policy has not met its stated aim of producing locally-born and trained athletes who win medals at major international sporting events. On the contrary, in sports with imported athletes, no medal-winning locals had been produced in over a decade. Meanwhile, Singapore succeeds in sports with no imported athletes.

The assumption is that by introducing foreign-born players of high talent into Singapore's system, local standards are raised and competition between athletes is increased, with the end result of greater achievement overall. This assumption is fundamentally flawed. It extends from a comparison with business, where the lowering of borders and tariffs increases competition within the local economy, which then forces companies to lower costs, increase efficiencies and raise standards. Unfortunately, this analogy with sport does not work. The comparison is flawed because sport, by definition, is globalised and openly competitive. Singapore athletes already compete against the best in the world on a regular basis, and have done so since we became an independent country. Athletes are constantly trying their best to beat other athletes from all over the world, and introducing more athletes into the system does not change that fact.

On the contrary, while introducing more talent into the system might raise the standard for sports at the local level (within Singapore), the overall standard decreases because money, time and other resources that might have been invested in local athletes are instead spent on the imported talents. Worse, because these imported talents are already more talented than local athletes, their continued success then justifies greater investment in them. For example, the government exempts male imported athletes from National Service, while Singapore-born athletes have to face severe difficulty in practising their sport for two years.

A comparable situation which many Singaporeans can relate to is that of the English football's Premier League. By coincidence, the league was founded in 1992, and the Bosman ruling (which removed any restrictions on citizenship within the Premier League) was passed down in 1995. The league has thus had unrestricted foreign players for roughly the same length of time as Singapore's sports foreign talent scheme. The league's standard is the highest in the world, and competition between clubs and players within the league is tremendously fierce. The UK government argues that the importing of foreign players will raise the standards of the game within England. Yet the England team has struggled, going out of the World Cup tamely and failing to qualify for the European Championship. Worse, there appears to be very little young talent rising through the ranks for the English national team.

The reason is that English football coaching at the under-14 level is generally poor (Players can sign with clubs at 14). Methods are outdated, there is a lack of good football coaches, and there is a lack of investment. The government maintains a hands-off, laissez faire policy, assuming the competition between schools and youth clubs will ensure standards are high. However, because of the lack of money, there is not enough resources and infrastructure. Many schools have sold off their playing fields. Coaches are attracted to higher wages at professional clubs. The government does not have a comprehensive policy. As a result, the majority of young English players end up with poor fundamentals and are not signed by clubs when they turn 14. Many players with talent but who were not trained in proper fundamentals are rejected.

By contrast, Great Britain's great success in the recent Beijing Olympics was the result of vastly increased amounts of funding (largely with proceeds from the national lottery) coupled with planning, foresight, and investment in infrastructure. National training centres in a number of sports have been established or had their funding significantly increased. The best coaches and sports directors have been appointed. The best athletes are groomed for a young age. As a result, Team GB has its best result since 1908: 19 golds, 47 medals overall.

This practice is not limited to rich countries. Jamaica established its High Performance Training Centre in Kingston some years ago, and produced a man named Usain Bolt. In fact, a glance down the Beijing Olympics medal table shows little correlation between success and a country's wealth, or size, or ethnicity. The Scandinavian countries- all about as rich as Singapore and about the same size- won medals. So did poorer countries like North Korea, Azerbaijan, Mongolia, Tunisia and Trinidad & Tobago. Tiny countries like Belgium, Slovenia, and Latvia all won golds. Among the Asian countries, South Korea, Thailand, Indonesia and again North Korea and Mongolia won golds.

In fact, what distinguishes the countries at the top of the table is not population size (For example, Australia has only 20 million people, Netherlands has 16 million), nor wealth (Jamaica, Kenya, Ethiopia and Belarus are not very wealthy), nor ethnicity (China topped the table, and South Korea and Japan were close behind), but a national commitment to sporting excellence that is backed by a long-term governmental commitment and massive investment.

Clearly, a comprehensive national policy is needed. But what form should it take? What should its goals be? To address this, we need to understand the role of sports in national policy. I address this in Part II of my essay.

A young man recently returned from World War I came back to his College in Oxford. As he walked across the quad, he was delighted to see his former tutor and rushed over to greet him.

"Hello Sir! I hope you remember me?" said the young man.

The old Fellow peered at him. "Ah yes! Biggins, isn't it?"

"Yes," replied the young man excitedly, "What a great memory!"

"Now tell me," continued the old Professor absent-mindedly, "Was it you or your brother who was killed in the Somme?"

Even funnier, the Principal had told the joke to an Emeritus Fellow. She showed him a copy of one of the oldest jokebooks known to exist, from around the 5th century, and that same joke was in there. The only difference was that the punchline was, "Was it you or your brother who was killed in the war with the Persians?"

"The light has gone out, I said, and yet I was wrong. For the light that shone in our country was no ordinary light. The light that has illumined this country for these many many years will illumine this country for many more years, and a thousand years later that light will still be seen in this country and the world will see it and it will give solace to innumerable hearts. For that light represented something more than the immediate present; it represented the living, the eternal truths, reminding us of the right path, drawing us from error, taking this ancient country to freedom.

"All this has happened when there was so much more for him to do. We could never think that he was unnecessary or that he had done his task. But now, particularly, when we are faced with so many difficulties, his not being with us is a blow most terrible to bear.

A madman has put an end to his life, for I can only call him mad who did it and yet there has been enough poison spread in this country during the past years and months, and this poison has had an effect on people's minds. We must face this poison, we must root out this poison, and we must face all the perils that encompass us, and face them not madly or badly, but rather in a way that our beloved teacher taught us to face them.

"The first thing to remember now is that none of us dare misbehave because he is angry. We have to behave like strong and determined people, determined to face all the perils that surround us, determined to carry out the mandate that our great teacher has given us, remembering always that if, as I believe, his spirit looks upon us and sees us, nothing would displease his soul so much as to see that we have indulged in any small behaviour or any violence.

"So we must not do that. But that does not mean that we should be weak, but rather that we should, in strength and in unity, face all the troubles that are in front of us. We must hold together, and all our petty troubles and difficulties and conflicts must be ended in the face of its great disaster. A great disaster is a symbol to us to remember all the big things of life and forget the small things of which we have thought too much. In his death he has reminded us of the big things of life, the living truth, and if we remember that, then it will be well with India.......

-- Jawaharlal Nehru, spoken on the evening of January 30 after the death of the Mahatma.

Our television stations want to make popular but cheap television shows which the government approves of.

This is an avenue which can be exploited!

Introducing Let's Go Book A HDB Flat Together!: A Singaporean reality TV show about Singaporeans trying to find love in the highly pressurised and materialistic world that is Singapore!

In the first season, we follow 12 men as, over the course of a season spanning 6 months, we observe their desperate attempts to find love in the city and reach that holy grail: their very-own HDB flat!

Watch! As the men get style tips, wardrobe makeovers, and etiquette advice from government-sponsored consultants, none of whom are gay!

Laugh! As they attempt to tiptoe their way through the minefield of kay-poh family, convince suspicious parents, pretend their jobs are better than they actually are and try not to be emasculated by the all-seeing camera!

Cry! As the men break down and confess their fears about women, their macho exteriors slowly breaking away as they plead for help to obey their biological and governmental imperatives!

Cheer! As they find women who actually can see past their social ineptitude, outmoded patriarchal values, debilitating shallowness, and funky body odour!

Shock! As it turns out that the true love they found on the show was a fraud as most of the women were actors and the rest were China-brides!

On second thoughts, never mind.

One interesting point which the most recent episode made was in its discussion of a Labour Party Prime Minister who resisted the strong entreaties of a President of the United States of America, from the south, to join the USA in an unpopular war in a distant state. The Prime Minister was Harold Wilson; the President was Lyndon Johnson. Wilson kept British troops out of the war; however, he refused to condemn it and supported the American effort with intelligence and rhetoric. He lost his credibility with the radical left because of his stand and his popularity plummeted. Students demonstrated; riots broke out; and even in his own cabinet, doubts were raised about the wisdom of his stance.

However, he steadfastly held firm, because Britain was a debtor nation, kept afloat only because of American loans. His Labour government had inherited from the previous Tory government a deficit of no less than £8 billion (around £11 billion today) and it needed American credit to keep the hospitals, factories and schools running. As he succinctly put it in a cabinet meeting, "We can't kick our creditors in the balls." Marr argued that his decision to tread the fine line between not supporting the war but not condemning it either was Wilson's finest hour; but it cost him a lot of popularity with the voters.

Wilson's stand is today contrasted with Blair's decision to go to war in Iraq. This leads me to wonder, are we missing a bigger picture? Is there something that Blair sees as vitally important to British interests that we easily dismiss? In 30 years' time, when documentaries are made of the Blair government with the benefit of hindsight and declassified documents, will his decision to stand shoulder to shoulder with the USA in Iraq be vindicated as necessary or even correct?

I believe that Tony Blair has been an excellent Prime Minister, with a very good record in office. He has kept Britain prosperous and has made Britain more relevant on the world stage than any time since before Suez. I am sad to see him go. And I am very sure that in the years to come, with the benefit of hindsight and of declassification, we will (more or less) come to agree that his government was a good one for Britain.

Winner of the 2007 MTV Movie Awards Movie Spoof contest, it's a mash-up of United 93 and 300. You will either finds this hilarious or be deeply offended and disgusted by the idea. I personally loved it.

I refer to your article on Confucius and Mr. Tan Boon Tee’s subsequent letter to The Economist. Mr Tan's letter demonstrates a commonly-held misconception about Confucius and his teachings. Confucius lived in a time of great political uncertainty and oppression, when monarchs held absolute power over life and death, and the values and ideas expressed in his philosophy have to be understood in the context of the times in which he lived. His famous ‘five relationships’ emphasize not only obedience by a subject to a ruler, but also the ruler’s responsibility to his people. He believed that if people became conscious of their responsibilities to each other, and followed good practices (‘ritual’) in their behaviour with each other, a harmonious society would result.

Sadly, Confucius’ teachings have been interpreted quite literally, perhaps in the same way that the pro-gun lobby in the USA interprets the second amendment. Confucius’ teachings are now routinely used to justify a strong paternalistic state and obedience to power, not least in places like Singapore. As a fellow Singaporean, I sympathize with Mr. Tan but I fear that Confucius, like many other philosophers and religious figures before him, has had his words interpreted to serve the purposes of those who would use them to justify their actions. As your article showed, Confucius is valued not for his inherent wisdom but as a way to justify the continued rule of the Chinese Communist Party. Rather than seek an inviolable text, I suggest we use it as a starting point for examining our own lives.

Yours Faithfully,

PJ Thum
Oxford

Given that
1. Wearing tight briefs decreases your fertility
2. 'Elite' organizations (like the PAP or some schools) enforce an all-white dress code
3. You cannot wear any colourful underwear when wearing white trousers, or you'll look silly, and are thus forced to wear tight white briefs (boxer shorts don't come in white, as far as I know)

Thus it follows that the all-white dress code is at least partially responsible for a decline in fertility among the men who belong to these institutions? MM Lee believes that the 'elite' who belong to the aforementioned organizations should breed more, and bemoans the falling Singaporean birth rate, but perhaps the dress code he imposed on his own party has been a contributing factor.

In this light, it is hardly surprising that ACS and Chinese High boys have always been considered much more virile than students from some other institutions.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End has excited Singaporeans for Chow Yun Fat's line, "Welcome to Singapore," not just because it's a wonderful mention of our home, not just because it's the second mention of Singapore in the trilogy (See: "Obviously you've never been to Singapore" in the first movie), but because it's uttered by Chow Yun Fat, quite simply the coolest actor in East Asia (and probably the world), and looking suitably badass in this movie.

What delighted me, however, was the historical and geographic mashup created by the conflation of different eras in Singapore's history and Southeast Asian geography. There is a lot of proof that Singapore was indeed a pirate haven in the 16th and 17th centuries, as a central and open port and part of the Johor Sultanate, with trade from the Portuguese and Dutch passing through regularly (it remains a pirate haven to this day- albeit a rather different kind of piracy). The depiction of Singapore is more accurate than you'd assume from a movie like this.

Yet from the overhead shots and the ethnic composition of the people, as well as the climate (implied from the clothing and the fact that Sao Feng used steam to heat his room), it looks like the location of the pirate haven wasn't Singapore. Rather than a flat country, an open port, hot and humid weather and lots of Orang Laut running around, we saw a mountainous country in a temperate zone with lots of Chinese running around. That suggests that 'Singapore' in the movie is somewhere much further north: either Taiwan, Vietnam or Hong Kong. All three had pirate havens (indeed, the first Chinese settlements in Taiwan were pirate settlements). Most likely, however, is that it would be Pattani in Southern Thailand. In the 16th century it was ruled by the great pirate chief Ling Dao Qian, who led a band of some 2000 men and who, as legend has it, married the daughter of a Malay chief and became a ruler himself.

The female Pirate Lord Mistress Ching also has her historical counterpart, although she dates from the beginning of the 19th century- Mdm. Cheng Yisao, who at the height of her power commanded 70,000 men and 400 ships, and who struck fear into the heart of the Qing Imperial Navy. The Qing even had to beg for help from the East India Company to help protect them from her raids, to no avail.

Meanwhile, the opening scene of the movie, where a "State of Emergency" is declared and certain constitutional freedoms are suspended (including habeas corpus, trial by jury, the right to assembly and protest, and the right to an advocate), sounds very familiar... just two or three hundred years too early. But given the wording the filmmakers chose to use, and the fact that it was voiced by a representative of the British Crown, as a measure to repress a dangerous, underground and militant enemy with socialist beliefs, to protect British commercial interests, could they have been nodding at the Malayan Emergency?

I'm giving a lecture on the Malayan Emergency on Monday 28th May at Hertford College... feel free to attend if you wish to know more!

But here's what bothered me about the ending of the movie. This is of course a spoiler, so stop reading here if you haven't seen the movie. Otherwise, read on after the jump.

Given that

a) Will Turner is now Captain of the Flying Dutchman, and is now immortal;
b) Elizabeth Swann Turner has no family to speak of since her parents are dead;
c) She also has no ship, no job, and no prospects;
d) If she dies at sea, she gets to choose to join the crew of the Flying Dutchman for all eternity and stay on board the ship with her husband;
e) If she doesn't, she will grow old and die while he will remain young forever.

Isn't the logical thing to do just to swim out to sea and kill herself? Death no longer has any fear for her.

The final scene after the credits gives this even more credence, because if Will can still father children in his new state, it implies that the state that he and his crew are in isn't one of death, but one of continued life. She could join him on board the ship and they could raise a family, and their children wouldn't be bound by the constraints of their condition, and they'd be (in the words of Rick Astley) together forever and never to part. So it's really a win-win all around.