Blame Neither Heaven Nor Others
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https://www.zaobao.com.sg/forum/views/story20260617-9222473?utm_source=android-share&utm_medium=app
Lianhe Zaobao (联合早报)
June 17, 2026
By Liu Liu (六六）
The author is a local screenwriter and writer.
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Recently, a speech delivered by a Singaporean man, Joel Tan, at the hooding ceremony for a PhD program affiliated with Harvard Medical School went viral. The theme of his speech was that, under Singapore’s education system, although he loved biology, his grades were poor, preventing him from entering medical school or a biology program. He failed twice to gain admission to a local university. Just when he thought higher education was beyond his reach, the University of Toronto extended him an olive branch. There, he flourished like a fish in water, blossoming from within, excelling not only academically but also standing out in extracurricular and social activities. In the end, he was able to enter the most prestigious institution of all and obtain a doctoral degree from Harvard.
At the end of his speech, he called on society to “give children a chance and open doors for others.” A local online media outlet subsequently published an article reflecting on Singapore’s education system, advocating greater inclusiveness and an end to the educational “arms race.”
I have a somewhat different perspective.
First of all, I am delighted that this young man found the environment and direction best suited to his development, even if it was not in Singapore. On the other hand, I do not blame Singapore’s education system because the key point of the saying “gold will always shine” lies in the words “will always,” or in English, “sooner or later.”
Education systems generally fall into two categories: those that cultivate people and those that select people. Western systems focus primarily on cultivation, trying to teach according to individual aptitude. If you enjoy mathematics, you can skip ahead in math classes. If you dislike reading, they may test whether you have a reading disorder and allow you to progress at your own pace. Asian education systems, by contrast, believe in selection. Whether you are academically inclined is something you must prove through hundreds or even thousands of examinations. During the first twelve years of schooling, the emphasis is on strengthening weaknesses while building on strengths. Students spend the greatest amount of time on the subjects they are least good at in preparation for the decisive college entrance examination. It sounds extremely harsh, but here is the thing: now that we have entered the age of artificial intelligence (AI), has anyone noticed that many of the leading figures in technology, semiconductor development, and engineering are overwhelmingly of Asian descent? Don’t talk to me about freeing one’s nature or being interest-driven. There is not a single profession in this world that produces top talent without relentless training and refinement. Sports stars, music icons, and even stand-up comedians—who among them is not one in ten thousand?
The hardships children endure today take twenty years before their value becomes visible.
Even Elon Musk, one of the world’s wealthiest individuals, walks into the office caring only about competence rather than political correctness. A large number of Asian engineers have returned to work within his system.
Compared with India and China, Singapore’s selection mechanism is already relatively gentle. Despite its small land area, it has two universities ranked among the world’s top ten. Singapore Management University and the Singapore University of Technology are also making rapid progress under strong national investment. Compared with the near-hellish competition in India and in China’s provinces such as Henan, Jiangxi, and Anhui, or compared with South Korea and Japan, Singapore’s local university admission rates for its own students are already quite generous.
The Singaporean student who spoke at Harvard was not among the very best when he was in Singapore. Based on the principle of educational fairness, it would hardly be right to ask students who had already demonstrated excellence to give way simply for his interests. What he needed was time to prove that he was a late bloomer. Life is long, and society places no ceiling on personal achievement. We have plenty of time to prove ourselves. There is no need to become anxious over a single examination or to fear temporary setbacks.
My best friend’s daughter performed so poorly in school that her mother worried she would not even qualify for secondary school. In the end, she was admitted to the School of the Arts Singapore by the narrowest of margins. After just one year there, she had become a top student, even voluntarily bringing homework along on family trips. Her mother wept with gratitude, believing that the School of the Arts had changed her daughter’s destiny. I myself was also a failure in China’s examination system, yet I eventually succeeded by working hard afterward and surpassing people who had once been better than me. It was not that the examination system was flawed—it was simply that I had not yet awakened to my potential.
Life is a marathon. At every stage of the journey, one can still accelerate. The doors of society are always open to those willing to keep climbing upward. Examinations are merely one measuring stick, one dimension of evaluation. Yet society does indeed need measuring sticks and dimensions. Without rules, there can be no order.
The Song Dynasty scholar Lin Bu wrote in Xingshen Lu (“Record for Self-Reflection”): “Those who blame others are far from wisdom; those who blame themselves halfway are closer; those who blame neither have attained understanding.” Quietly wait for the flowers to bloom and fade, patiently wait for the sun to rise—cause and effect, destiny and opportunity, will eventually unfold.
The author is a local screenwriter and writer.
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