You know lah, every generation thinks their pioneers were superheroes. Legend has it Singapore's founding civil servants could cure inflation by staring at spreadsheets and stop riots with perfectly worded memos. But three new books by the OG kakies reveal the truth. It wasn't all heroic speeches and spotless white shirts. Sometimes, nation building literally meant inspecting sewers during lunch break. Aiyoh.

Let's start with Professor Tommy Koh's juiciest revelation. The man famous for winning us the Pedra Branca case almost became UN Secretary General before Kofi Annan. True story. Even wilder. His infamous 1985 Lee Kuan Yew US Congress speech that made Americans stand like they saw Taylor Swift. That whole thing started as an afternoon daydream dismissed as impossible by MFA and the US State Department. Only TCK, being TCK, bulldozed it through. Today's diplomats would blast angry WhatsApp messages in group chats. That generation just made miracles happen by drinking five cups of kopi and ignoring everyone calling them crazy.

Then there's poor Lim Siong Guan. The man who became our first Principal Private Secretary got offered a Cambridge PhD. Dream come true, right. Public Service Commission just went No, thank you next, young man. We need you back here to count rain gutters. That's right. His first job involved sewage systems. No aircon, no glamour, just lots of enthusiasm. The best part. He happily obliged because the man actually believed in public service. Try selling that career path to today's scholars expecting overseas postings before turning thirty.

Which brings us to the silent hero of SAF Major General Tan Chin Tiong's memoir. Fun fact. National Service wasn't even official when this history scholar got thrown into the army. Imagine top graduates today getting yanked into Pulau Tekong without warning while dreaming of cushy GLC jobs. The difference. Tan became permanent secretary while still green behind the ears. Today parents would storm MINDEF demanding compensation if their scholarship kid missed management associate program enrollment because of ICT.

Reading these books together feels like finding your grandfather's secret travel diaries. Suddenly, those stern faces in black and white photos were young once. Nervous, hopeful, occasionally terrified civil servants making things up as they went along. Their biggest advantage. Zero expectations. Singapore was a blank cheque nobody thought would cash out. Now our public servants inherit a gleaming metropolis where any pothole becomes Stompage central.

Tommy Koh's tales reveal how international diplomacy worked before Zoom calls. They'd write longhand letters, wait three months for replies, then fly economy class to negotiate deals that took years. No instant gratification, just slow cooked diplomacy. His revelation about nearly pursuing the UN top job shows how Singapore operated back then. Small country, huge ambitions discussed quietly over teh tarik rather than blasted on LinkedIn.

Lim Siong Guan's reflections cut deepest. His generation treated government work like serving in a temple. You washed floors before touching holy artifacts. Literally. Today some scholars expect CEO treatment before their first in tray gets cleared. But his memoir isn't a scolding rant. It's actually hopeful. When he describes designing our first water policy between sewage inspections, you realize nation building happened offline. No KPIs, just engineers solving problems before the rain came.

Meanwhile, Tan Chin Tiong's military memoir reads like an adventure novel. Imagine 1960s Singapore when the SAF had more ambition than equipment. His stories of converting colonial era barracks into military bases resonate today as we debate defense spending. That generation transformed coconut shell helmets into smart armed forces through pure stubbornness. Now that Temasek Green berets exist, no NS boy would believe we once built brigades from scratch while worrying about water rationing.

What do these three wise men teach us. Three things. First, true governance happens not in Parliament but in quiet meeting rooms where civil servants negotiate solutions the public never sees. Second, public service requires patience. Not everything produces immediate AR updates. Finally, and most Asian wisdom lah, sometimes the craziest ideas work best. Like convincing superpowers to host your tiny nation's leader because you asked nicely.

Their memoirs also answer that always haunting question. Who can we copy now. Every Singaporean knows our pioneer leaders learned from Finland or Switzerland or some efficient European wonderland. Today we're the answer others copy. These books remind us we actually made our own manual. From sewage management to global diplomacy, Singapore edition 1.0 was coded by people writing policies on typewriters without Wikipedia.

That's why even younger Singaporeans should dive into these surprisingly cheeky memoirs. Don't expect boring administrative manuals. Expect tales about bargaining with Egyptian generals for UN votes and accidentally creating national icons through sheer stubbornness. Between TCK's diplomatic coups and Lim Siong Guan's sewage surveys, you realize our modern city emerged not from grand design but countless tiny decisions made by civil servants who chose nation over self.

Ultimately politics isn't about elections. It's about the everyday governance keeping lifts working and taps flowing. These memoirs celebrate the anonymous workers who built systems we now take for granted. After reading them, you'll see every HDB block differently. Someone's grandfather probably designed those rubbish chutes while earning less than today's Grab drivers. So next time you complain about civil servants drinking expensive tea, remember this. Once upon a time, their mentors drank kopi in drains to build our Lion City.

Will future memoirs sound as epic. Only time will tell. But if today's public servants inherit even half that spirit, Singapore might just surprise us again. After all, every generation adds their own chapter. Maybe someday we'll read about some young scholar who redesigned climate policies between bubble tea breaks. One thing remains unchanged. Singapore works because people show up. Rain or shine, crises or calm, there's always someone willing to skip Cambridge for a clogged drain. And that, truly, is our secret sauce.