From policymaker to politician: PAP new face Shawn Loh, 38, on leaving his 'first love' to stand in Jalan Besar GRC

"I don't think our policies are perfect," says Shawn Loh.

At 38, Loh is on the younger end of the People's Action Party's (PAP) slate of new candidates.

But he fields questions like a pro, candid and self-assured, comfortable with his kopi with a side of the early-morning bustle of Whampoa Food Centre.

A longtime civil servant, Loh resigned in early April to stand in the upcoming General Election.

He'll stand in the Jalan Besar GRC under anchor minister Josephine Teo, and if elected, will replace outgoing MP Heng Chee How in the Whampoa ward.

But why leave policymaking for politics in the first place?

The two Ps

Policymaking, Loh says, is "his first love".

As a civil servant, he felt that policies and politics "have to work hand in hand". "You need good and constructive politics, in a stable government, to make good policies," he explains.

In the past, policies were the primary challenge — to be formulated and pushed out to what was then a society with fairly homogenous values and beliefs.

But today, society is more diverse, and the approach must be different, Loh believes.

"I think the challenge of our generation is one not so much of just policymaking, but one of politics," he says.

"Now...the challenge of governance is to ensure that we bring people together. We ensure consensus, before we can move forward policy.

That's why politics has to come before policy."

In considering how to respond to what he felt was "the call of duty", Loh, a practising Roman Catholic, says he was guided by a strong sense of morality.

"I think of it as a moral imperative," he explains.

"It is morally correct that those who can contribute more, should contribute more. For me, I choose to express that in the realm of politics."

Being an MP

But as a father of four young children, surely he must have had some qualms about making the switch into politics?

"Most certainly," Loh says. "It's always a big transition from being a civil servant to being a public figure."

Public scrutiny aside, entering politics means less time for his family and his children, which he considers "the greatest struggle".

His older children, who are 12 and 10, were more accepting.

But his younger two, who are seven and four, are "still getting to terms with not seeing Pa around".

In an effort to integrate his family into his new undertaking, he brought his wife and kids along to a number of community events, and plans to do so more often in future.

"You only have one life to live, and we're only parents for one season," he says.

"But we are finding a new balance in this new phase of life."

Still, he believes it will be worth it.

He recalls an occasion recently in which he went for a run through Whampoa.

"I wasn't prepared. I ran from my neighbourhood [in Potong Pasir], I didn't bring anything, I didn't bring my tissues," he says.

He ended up in Bendemeer Market, perspiring profusely, and ordered bar chor mee with extra chilli — "which was a mistake, cos no tissue right?".

Unprompted, a woman sat down at his table and offered him a pack of tissues.

"That's just a very small but authentic example of the warmth of the community here," he says.

In the same way, he hopes to use politics as a way to express one of the values he holds most dear: Service to others.

"[So] this is ultimately a calling, not just for me, but for my wife and for the family.

And for however long the residents think I can contribute, I'll be there."

Social media

As a millennial reporter, my idea of prepping for a political interview is very much the same as how I'd prepare to meet any other new person: Via a quick round of social media stalking.

A scroll through Loh's Instagram feed reveals content that might not be as edgy as some of his peers', but which nevertheless comes across as earnest and heartfelt.

It's not for frivolous reasons either. Loh professes himself to be "not naturally a social media guy", but believes social media is just one of the ways he can reach out to his residents, and get them on board with what he wants to do.

To that end, he relies on the help of his volunteers to communicate what he wants to say to younger residents.

"I told them I'm new to this, I'm here to contribute, I'm here to make mistakes. And it's OK to make mistakes," he says.

"I'm not a perfect person, and I'm not here to portray a perfect version [of myself] that is inauthentic."

It's a pretty good parallel with his take on Singapore, its policies, and its politics.

Which brings us back to his quote at the beginning of the article.

In his work as a policymaker, he'd go out of the way to work in fields where "things are not perfect, and you can still improve".

And in Whampoa, he hopes to work towards such "imperfect" issues: Ensuring accessible childcare, expanding support for residents who may fall between the cracks, and keeping the estate clean.

At some point in our interview, we're interrupted by an ambulance's siren. It's the one time in the morning that I see his easygoing smile shift into something more pensive.

"It's unfortunate that this is quite a daily occurrence," he remarks, almost distractedly; as though he's already drafting a proposal in his mind. "Even when I was at Bendemeer Market last week, we had a fall and we had to call the ambulance.

"So, we have still some way to go to be senior-friendly."

Ivory tower

It's such a harmless, offhand remark, yet I find myself lingering over it for a while.

But it's not till later that I understand why.

The PAP has traditionally obtained a fair amount of its political talent from senior civil servants. It's an unglamorous route, without the shine that might come from a high-profile lawyer or a successful surgeon.

It's also one that is liable to attract unkind remarks (read: "ivory tower") from the public.

In an attempt to avoid this, PAP candidates often stress their humble backgrounds, in almost an exaggerated fashion, as though afraid we might forget they're just like the rest of us. (Loh, as well, points out once or twice that he grew up and still resides in a HDB flat.)

But truth be told, policymakers are just really not like the rest of us.

Having spent so much of his adult life as one, his instinct for problem-solving kicks in as naturally as a well-worn cai png order.

It's not a bad thing, and a skillset that people like us often forget about come election season.

Despite all his efforts to seem like an everyman, our nearly hour-long interview only confirms my belief that he really, really isn't.

People can say what they want about politicians, but it takes a certain amount of crazy to subject yourself to politics — even the comparatively mild world of Singapore politics.

An everyman wouldn't do it. Loh isn't one, and that's OK.

Top image by Ilyda Chua