Growing up in a mining region in the UK, I learned early on about the vital role of canaries in keeping miners safe. These small birds were the unsung heroes of survival underground, alerting miners to invisible, deadly gases that human noses could not detect. When a canary stopped singing—or worse, fell silent altogether—miners knew it was time to get out fast. In this sense, they were the original whistleblowers, sacrificing their lives to warn of imminent danger.
Fast forward to today, and whistleblowers remain essential to society. These courageous individuals shine a light on abuse, fraud, conflicts of interest, and corruption that undermine institutions and harm the public. But what happens when their voices are suppressed? In Singapore, the unsettling truth is that few dare to speak out—a lesson I’ve learned from those who have reached out to me for help. The few whistleblowers who find the courage to speak up could face swift retaliation, be it through hidden intimidation, a POFMA order, or even a defamation suit from the highest levels of power.
The promises of “zero tolerance” for corruption and “no cover-ups” begin to ring hollow in such an atmosphere. These slogans become mere platitudes rather than principles guiding real action. When high-profile cases of abuse or fraud are ignored or perceived to be inadequately addressed as we saw in the Keppel bribery case, it suggests that the rule of law applies selectively, favouring the powerful while marginalizing the vulnerable.
A Rising Tide of Asylum Claims
In recent years, the number of asylum claims filed by Singaporeans has surged, which could suggest that some canaries are flying to the safety of other countries. The UNHCR reports that claims increased from 100 in 2021 to 322 in the first half of 2024 alone—a remarkable figure for a country that prides itself on “zero tolerance” for corruption. Ja Ian Chong, an international relations expert at the National University of Singapore, attributes this trend to fears of political persecution. Local authorities will undoubtedly deny this, of course, claiming freedom of speech is alive and well—just so long as no one actually uses it.
But who watches Singapore's watchmen? Even former Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong seems to acknowledge the lack of independent oversight in Singapore’s system. The Director of the Corrupt Practices Investigation Bureau reports directly to the Prime Minister, because aside from God, there is no-one else he can report to. This leaves that watchdog with a deep conflict of interest. If the mainstream press, with its $180 million annual government funding, is similarly compromised, who’s left to protect the canaries and independently investigate matters such as Ridout?
A Personal Journey Through Whistleblowing
My family's story spans over a decade of relentless whistleblowing against what can only be described as impotent watchmen. We started raising red flags about the activities of the EZRA Holdings Group well before 2014, seeking accountability and transparency in the face of mounting evidence of wrongdoing. After leaving Singapore and later going public, we became targets. False police reports were made against me, doctored articles falsely accused my family members of heinous crimes, even a fabricated Interpol Red Notice was published with my picture—most of which was orchestrated by an associate of a prominent Singapore businessman. The board of DBS, one of the largest banks in Southeast Asia, publicly accused me of acting with malice after Asia Sentinel dare raise questions about my story. More recently, I was singled out among many who shared an opinion article, being named and shamed in the local press and on the radio, in relation to a POFMA order from the Minister of Law. These actions seem less about disproving my whistleblowing efforts and more about attempting to discredit me as a canary in the coal mine.
Unmasking Conflicts of Interest
The quote by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh! What a Tangled Web We Weave/When First We Practice to Deceive!" captures our story perfectly. What began as a calculated scheme by a Singaporean elite and his associates to seize our 4% shareholding in an Australian company—valued at up to A$2.4 million—for a single dollar, quickly unraveled into something far darker. We uncovered a coordinated plan that bore all the signs of SGX share price manipulation, aided by a fraudulent option deed bearing the purported signature of an SGX-listed CEO—now ironically serving time for cheating and false trading in an unrelated matter. Alongside this were two dubious DBS letters used in a conspiracy to defraud, allegations of forged signatures, undisclosed conflicts, and misleading disclosures. This web of deception was supposed to remain hidden after a “hush money” offer of A$3.5 million was made to the authorised representative of the plaintiff. He was to retract a writ that had been served on the EZRA Holdings Group. The writ implicated a board member, who was a well-connected client of both DBS Bank, a government-linked entity, and the politically influential law firm Allen & Gledhill, which revealed a troubling pattern of alleged fraud.
When the EZRA Group finally collapsed, DBS and OCBC alone faced a staggering combined exposure of over $937 million, Chiyoda and NYK had written off $415 million in an EZRA JV, yet no independent investigation followed. In Singapore, the issue isn’t a lack of claims to investigate—it appears a lack of willingness when those involved are in the right circles.
At the time, Allen & Gledhill’s head was Singapore’s current Attorney General, while the client’s purported lawyer has since become the Second Minister of Law. Despite these glaring conflicts—or perhaps because of them—the Singaporean authorities declined to investigate their former client and his associates, conveniently citing a “lack of evidence.” Yet this excuse seems curiously selective. In cases involving Parti Liyani, Li Shengwu, Terry Xu, Lee Hsien Yang, Lee Suet Fern, and others who might be viewed as opponents of the ruling party or its cronies, evidence is miraculously unearthed to justify action, even if it later proves flimsy or false, as happened with Parti Liyani.
DBS and Allen & Gledhill were found to have violated the Singapore Code on Takeovers and Mergers in 2022. Yet SIC did not take further action against both parties, given that they took “prompt action” to mitigate their breaches. Neither did SIC name the A & G partner involved. This approach stands in stark contrast to the way others have been held accountable. With such prominent players crossing ethical lines and facing no punishment, how can anyone be sure that our case was handled fairly without an independent investigation? The financial and reputational interests of both entities are intricately tied to one another, creating a scenario where transparency takes a back seat to self-preservation. In an environment where conflicts of interest abound, it’s naïve to expect these institutions to act against their own interests or those of their influential clients. Arguably, it's the absence of independent oversight that allows powerful entities within Singapore to operate with an unsettling degree of autonomy, unchallenged by external investigators. As a result, when allegations arise, the response is often defensive rather than proactive, further perpetuating a culture of cover-up.
I watched as two DBS Group Heads of Financial Crime, two PwC partners overseeing DBS’s audit, and a DBS Group Company Secretary whom I had asked for assistance, all departed—one after only a year in the role. Were these exits mere coincidence, or could they signify a refusal to be part of a larger corporate cover-up? Without an independent investigation, how do we know? When the conflicted Attorney General serves on the bank and securities regulator’s board, alongside the Managing Partner of the law firm which represents the DBS board and publicly accused me of acting with malice, expecting any meaningful accountability from this regulator or Singapore's legal bodies is surely optimistic, to say the least. I would say it's indeed a deeply troubling state of affairs. Whilst there's no suggestion that the Attorney General, the Second Minister of Law or the DBS board were involved in any wrongdoing, there is no denying that they would be conflicted if any investigation were undertaken into the events which took place under their watch.
A Call for Change
A former Managing Director of a Singapore Government-Linked Company, who spent nearly a year reviewing my evidence and consulting with senior figures at DBS, once remarked, “A rotten situation doesn’t get to smell sweeter over time.” This leaves a pressing question: how foul must the stench become before PM Wong and his colleagues confront the issues festering under their watch? Courage, integrity, and accountability are more than lofty ideals—they require decisive action. I’ve even offered to speak with an intermediary to facilitate an investigation, yet the silence from the upper echelons has been deafening.
Without independent investigators, Singapore’s canaries will continue to remain unheard—or worse, silenced. For Singaporeans who value integrity and want to speak freely, exile is starting to look like the only real option. Just consider the late President Devan Nair, the late Solicitor General Francis Seow, and the many others who have sought asylum, including the recent high-profile case of Lee Kuan Yew’s son, Lee Hsien Yang, and his wife, Lee Suet Fern. These examples force us to ask: are PM Lawrence Wong and some of his colleagues themselves canaries trapped in *gilded cages—visible yet voiceless, restrained by the very structures they represent? Who does pull the strings in Singapore, sustaining a polished image of integrity while quietly smothering dissent? There must be a desk somewhere in Singapore where the buck has to stop, where accountability should truly lie.
My journey serves as a cautionary tale for both local and international investors: beware of how easily the well-connected can slip past accountability. Once, I took great pride in my status as a Singapore Permanent Resident, but I now wrestle with the stark realization that ideals of integrity and accountability are often just that—ideals, as hollow as the silence left by a dead canary. Those who dare to challenge the establishment, no matter how legitimate their claims, can find themselves defamed, discredited, and isolated. I never imagined that so many in positions of authority in Singapore could turn a blind eye—or worse, actively allow me to face this battle alone for over a decade, when they knew the truth. The loneliness of this journey has been profound, revealing not only the power of the connections that protect some but also the weight of the silence that burdens those who dare to speak. And sadly, I know all too well that my story is far from isolated.
I refuse to be a scapegoat, shielding those responsible for alleged fraudulent activities or those who enabled them through inaction or lack of courage. If authorities cannot be trusted to investigate cases like mine—or the concerns raised by NUS Professor Mak Yuen Teen and others, where conflicts of interest run deep—how can we expect them to confront issues with even broader impact? Hypothetically, what if Temasek’s post-GFC losses were three times what was reported, would that truth ever be allowed to reverberate through Singapore’s corridors of power, or would that canary be swiftly silenced?
My story, like so many others, is a call for change, accountability, and a return to genuine integrity in systems meant to serve everyone, not just the powerful. Until that day, Singapore remains a place where the air may seem pristine, but those who’ve breathed it know otherwise. The silence—or exile—of countless canaries says all that needs to be said about the cost of truth in a system where image too often trumps integrity.
Only time will tell if anyone else will follow Lee Hsien Yang, finding both the will and the courage to break free from the gilded cage, challenge the tightly controlled narrative, and deliver the accountability so many are waiting for.
“Singapore has this veneer that purports to be a sort of affluent, democratic, free country. The veneer is quite thin,” he said in an interview in London on Monday. “Beneath that there is a repressive nature to that regime and there are people fleeing from it.” ~ Lee Hsien Yang
*Canaries in gilded cages" is a metaphor that suggests individuals or groups with the potential to warn others of danger (like whistleblowers or truth-tellers) are restrained, despite appearing privileged or well-cared-for. The "gilded cage" implies that these individuals may have a superficially comfortable or high-status position, yet they are trapped and unable to perform their essential role of sounding the alarm on corruption, danger, or wrongdoing, rendering them symbolic ornaments rather than impactful voices for change.
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