ON A side street in the centre of Singapore, a Muslim-American lawyer beats his wife bloody, only to be treated to rapturous applause. The lawyer is Amir Kapoor, the central character in Ayad Akhtar’s play “Disgraced”, which recently completed a run at the Singapore Repertory Theatre (SRT). The play centres on a heated argument about identity, assimilation and stereotypes among Amir, his white wife and two friends, an African-American lawyer and a Jewish art dealer.

Though Mr Akhtar’s play has been performed around the world, it was surprising to see it in Singapore, where the government has long been touchy about race and religion. Around 74% of Singaporeans are of Chinese ethnicity, 13% Malay, 9% Indian and the rest “other”. The government sees the country’s laudably harmonious multiculturalism as fragile, to be nurtured and guarded by policies such as ethnic quotas in housing, guaranteed minority-group representation in parliament and limits on free speech.

“Wounding the religious or racial feelings of any person” and “promoting enmity between different groups on the ground of religion or race” are both punishable by up to three years’ imprisonment. On Racial Harmony Day, observed every July 21st since 1997 in commemoration of a deadly communal riot in 1964, students come to school in their traditional ethnic dress and try each other’s food. During this year’s celebration Lee Hsien Loong, the prime minister, cautioned Singaporeans against taking good race relations for granted.

Gaurav Kripalani, who played Amir and is the SRT’s artistic director, believes that even five years ago Singapore’s Media Development Authority (MDA), which regulates theatres—the existence of such a government agency is telling—would not have allowed “Disgraced” to be performed. Its approval this year came with two conditions: only people over 18 could watch the play, and the actors had to host a discussion of its themes after the show. Although the discussion was voluntary, most people stayed, and the conversation was lively. On a recent night one audience member castigated the play for being racist, while another praised it for “talking about things most people don’t really say out loud”. Mr Kripalani, a native Singaporean, believes these discussions and the MDA’s approval of the play show that “we are growing up.”

But Singapore’s paternalism has not gone away. In early November the government announced that only ethnic Malays would be permitted to run for president next year. The constitution will be amended to mandate that presidential elections be reserved for members of a certain ethnic group if nobody from that group has served as president for the past five terms.

Until 1993 parliament chose the president—a largely ceremonial post. Since Singapore began electing its presidents directly, two Chinese-Singaporeans and one Indian-Singaporean have served. The last Malay president was Singapore’s first, Yusof Ishak, who held office from 1965 to 1970. Possible candidates in next year’s election, which must be held before August, include Halimah Yacob and Abdullah Tarmugi, the current and previous Speakers of Parliament. Mr Lee has said the move will ensure that every citizen will “know that someone of his community can become president and in fact, from time to time, does become president”.

Yet some Malays have decried what they see as shallow tokenism. Others have noted that the rule bars Tan Cheng Bock, a former minister who is critical of the government and nearly won the previous presidential race, from running (he is Chinese). A spokesman for the government has dismissed the idea that such a base motive played any part in its decision as “factually false”.

Kenneth Paul Tan of the National University of Singapore sees a simpler explanation: the bleak realism of Singapore’s government, which believes that “racial feelings are such that you have to design things around them, rather than trying to transform them.” Singapore’s government may trust its citizens to analyse racial stereotypes in the comfort of a theatre, but the ballot box is another story.

Condemning such an approach as patronising or illiberal is easy. Condemning it as ineffective—particularly in comparison with Malaysia, Singapore’s neighbour, from which it split in 1965 and which is racked by toxic racial and religious politics—is much harder.