News this week included: AI tools to simulate public responses to policies and transliterate old Malay-language newspapers written in Jawi; Hougang United sanctioned for fielding a foreign footballer without a valid work pass; a new SIM card checker tool to combat scams; the risk of retinal detachment for those with high myopia; kids among the victims of an alleged S$700,000 Pokemon card scam; an important debate about consumer protection sparked by the WP’s Andre Low; Chan Chun Sing refusing calls by the WP to pay national servicemen a base salary of S$1,800 per month, saying “…I don’t want us to get into the wrong concept that this is a transactional relationship”, which inevitably drew a backlash online, partly because public service has long been turned into a transaction through ministerial salaries; and improving road safety through lower alcohol limits, a tighter demerit points system, and a prospective new law around vehicular homicide—the government was quick to add, however, that criminals wouldn’t be liable for the death penalty. (Guess it’s one thing to kill poor Malaysian mules, quite another a rich Ferrari driver.)
Below are the issues we chose to explore in more depth.
International: Iran, where might makes right
On Monday, the Iranian women’s football team played against South Korea in Australia, in the first round of the Asian Cup. Before the game, they refused to sing along to their national anthem. In a video they look brave and beautiful, their stoic faces framed by their sports hijabs, tucked neatly into the collars of their gleaming white jerseys. In front of them stood young, bewildered Aussie kids (whose country is very much a part of this coalition of the willing). Did they not sing because they’re against the current regime? Maybe the absurdity of it all—the confluence of belonging, international sports, and geopolitics—has led to an even greater dissonance about a fraught national identity. The players and their coach Marziyeh Jafari, smiling through the song, later refused to answer questions about the conflict.
It is one of many inscrutable scenes from the past week, after devastating joint military action by Israel and the US against Iran has led to a regional war—albeit a seemingly one-sided one, with Iran and proxies isolated by the rest. The human dilemma, which we are all forced to grapple with, is unlike any other in recent times. For while many Iranians have mourned the death of Ayatollah Khamenei, others have celebrated. Are you being attacked? Or liberated? What does solidarity look like in times like these?
“Relief for the 92 million Iranians freed from the grip of an 86-year-old tyrant,” began CNN’s Fareed Zakaria in his commentary. Whether tyranny justifies one country assassinating the leader of another is murky moral territory. Zakaria transitioned to pummeling the assassin: by calling for regime change, Donald Trump has “defined the purpose of this war, and the measure by which it will be judged a success or failure.” Other countries, meanwhile, “are confronted by the reality that the world’s leading nation, the creator of the international rules based system, has said loudly and clearly, ‘Might makes right’. It’s a new rule, and one that will gladden the hearts of Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin.”
Our diverse regional responses reflect these conflicting perceptions. Malaysia has been the most unequivocal in its condemnation. Its MPs put aside its fractious politics for unanimity, including a moment’s silence for Khamenei, his family, and the hundreds of children killed when Israel bombed a girls’ primary school. Anwar Ibrahim, prime minister, said Malaysia can no longer “swallow” arguments about human rights and democracy from Americans and Europeans, calling out the “hypocrisy” of an attack amidst peace talks. (A New York Times commentary suggests the talks were a farcical front given the warmongering influence of Benjamin Netanyahu on Trump.)
Indonesia, as an enthusiastic supporter of Trump’s Board of Peace (BOP) and the world’s largest Muslim country, seems to be caught in a bind. Leader Prabowo Subianto had to defend its BOP involvement in a rare silaturahmi (strengthening social ties) meeting involving his predecessors, as people protested outside the US Embassy. The famed non-alignment of the mid-20th century, depicted as “rowing between two reefs”, has now evolved to “among several reefs”.
Singapore did not condemn its long-standing allies’ aggression, but among other things regretted “the failure of negotiations”. (ASEAN’s foreign ministers issued a similarly bland joint statement.) While analysts here worry about the war testing social cohesion, others are concerned about travel disruptions, and the shock to energy markets that might eventually spike electricity prices and costs elsewhere. The sheer nonchalance and obliviousness of the canary in the gilded cage was captured by an influencer posting a photo of her jog along Marina Bay, using Israel and Iran in a pun that suggested the news was overdone. (She later apologised.)
Amidst the carnage and confusion, there is still poetry to keep us strong. Maybe the words of Rumi, from the Iranian locker room to the Singaporean shore, can be a balm.
Search the darkness
Sit with your friends; don’t go back to sleep.
Don’t sink like a fish to the bottom of the sea.
Surge like an ocean,
don’t scatter yourself like a storm.
Life’s waters flow from darkness,
Search the darkness, don’t run from it…
The human shape is a ghost
The human shape is a ghost
made of distraction and pain.
Sometimes pure light, sometimes cruel,
trying wildly to open,
this image tightly held within itself.
Politics: Parley round-up
The Workers’ Party (WP) made numerous suggestions on behalf of the Singaporean worker, including on mandating flexible work arrangements and closing the youth employment gap. Among numerous other responses, Tan See Leng, manpower minister, rejected a suggestion by Pritam Singh, WP chief, for bigger companies to give higher retrenchment benefits; said that about 100 employers had been caught fraudulently inflating their foreign worker quotas through “phantom worker” arrangements in 2024-25, while rejecting a suggestion from Kenneth Tiong, WP MP, to scrap nationality-based quotas in favour of a price-based mechanism; and rejected a suggestion by Jamus Lim, WP MP, for a national on-the-job training scheme (in the age of AI), instead backing the government’s existing Graduate Industry Traineeships (GRIT) programme.
If you’re thinking of throwing in the towel, Tan also announced that on July 1st, the retirement age will be raised to 64 and the re-employment age to 69. (With the intention for another raise by 2030 to 65 and 70 respectively.) This has important implications for CPF contributions, among other things.
The air-conditioned nation? Well, not for our little ones, many of whom study in stuffy classrooms. In response to questions from across the aisle, Jasmin Lau, minister of state for education, said that by 2027, all schools will be fitted with more powerful fans in classrooms, and their building exteriors will be coated with cool paint. Among other education issues was the customary debate about class sizes.
Yup, you know the score, one of the world’s richest countries just doesn't have the resources to shrink ‘em. Just like we can’t afford to move migrant workers around safely. “From 1st of January 2027, we will no longer allow the ferrying of workers in caged lorries.” What benevolence!
Recent important discussions around matters of democracy and transparency included the PAP rejecting: calls for a freedom of information act; for greater disclosure in the Attorney-General appointment process; and for a cooling-off period when politicians magically switch between non-partisanship and partisanship. (Your word is all we need.)
As energy markets globally quivered, Tan, also minister-in-charge of energy and science & technology, said that Singapore is “seriously studying the potential deployment of advanced nuclear energy technologies, such as small modular reactors [SMRs].” The Energy Market Authority of Singapore announced that it had signed a Memorandum of Understanding with the Korea Hydro & Nuclear Power Co Ltd on civil nuclear energy capability building in SMRs. It was a signature piece of news in a longer speech about Singapore’s decarbonisation plans—the long-term importance of which was underscored by this week’s events. (Singapore imports about 43 percent of its natural gas from Malaysia and Indonesia; 47 percent from Qatar; and the rest from elsewhere.)
Kudos to all our parliamentarians, and the civil servants, volunteers and others tasked with helping them, for delivering another bumper week, even as war raged in the distance. So packed were the days that at one point the speaker cut off the microphone of the PAP’s Low Yen Ling, to laughs all round. All further evidence of our maturing democracy.
Society: Now, shore up the stork market
Singapore’s total fertility rate (TFR) touched a new nadir in 2025, sparking fresh conversations about ways to avert this existential crisis. A good first step would be to make things simpler for prospective adoptive parents and those willing to try fertility treatments (watch out for an upcoming Jom essay on the issue)—by reducing the time, money, and deluge of paperwork needed to bring a child home. Stephanie Tan of the Progress Singapore Party (PSP) suggested egg freezing subsidies in public hospitals, and permitting the use of MediSave funds for the procedure, while urging employers to offer employees wider fertility benefits.
Easing adoption processes and fertility treatments won’t be easy, but it’s perhaps the low-hanging fruit in the reform of an entire culture that now seems terrified of procreation. There’s hope though. South Korea, with the world’s lowest TFR, has reversed its decline in the past two years. Even though it’s early days yet, observers point to financial sops, as well as a raft of recent legislation prioritising housing for newlyweds; improved, affordable daycare access; and up to three years of shared parental leave as possible reasons for the reversal. Singapore too could revisit its current offerings—16 weeks of paid maternity leave for eligible mothers and four weeks for eligible fathers, with 10 weeks of shared parental leave. Both countries would do well to embrace queer families too—allowing, say, adoption and surrogacy—as part of a broader reimagination of the family unit; perhaps utility might prevail where humanity has failed.
Tan also revived PSP’s GE2025 call for a S$1,250 monthly allowance for parents and grandparents who are full-time caregivers to Singaporean kids below seven. Earlier, Shawn Loh of the People’s Action Party (PAP) felt that some of Singapore’s S$15bn budget surplus could be used to provide free childcare, as well as offsetting ongoing childcare costs such as diapers, milk powders and paediatrician visits till the age of 16. While the government has rolled out substantive benefits in recent years, some online were quick to point out that bigger ones like the working mum’s relief has actually been reduced from a percentage of annual salary to a fixed amount capped at S$8,000 for the first child (the official reason was greater equity, since a percentage-based approach favoured higher-income mothers).
Beyond expanded caregiving and financial support, the emotional and physical stresses associated with raising a child in Singapore must be reduced. Many prospective parents dread their children having to go through such a competitive education system, for instance. The PSLE, as just one example, not only involves forking out large sums on enrichment classes and tuitions, but considerable mental strain and in some cases, even trauma. Then there are the long waits, for houses that are getting smaller; the relentless pace of life; and the justified fear that one’s professional prospects will suffer with a child in the picture. Fertility policy, in other words, is not merely about ever more generous handouts—it’s about fostering a belief that raising a child in Singapore is not just manageable, but joyful enough to make the inevitable sacrifices worthwhile.
Some further reading: In “The Untold struggles of single parents in Singapore”, Sherryl Cheong discusses the tribulations of those who don’t fit the state’s favoured traditional family unit.
In “Don’t buy your own koyok: why we must reform primary education”, Pooja Bhandari urges a comprehensive overhaul to make Singapore’s primary education less stressful and more suited to 21st century opportunities and challenges.
Society: Buldak bonanza at Ramadan bazaar
Step aside, pistachio kunafa. This year’s glycemic Ramadan rush features the Quesillos, a Venezuelan caramel custard dessert. For something more familiar, Buldak Ramen takes the stage at Geylang Serai’s bazaar with several stores selling variations of the instant noodles: stuffed into oversized takoyakis; wrapped around chicken tenders; a “berhantu” dish layered with potatoes and generous amounts of cheese; and carbonara fried rice served in an oyster pail. To quench your thirst, enjoy a litre of strawberry matcha or a ribbon crosssaint smoothie—a decadent baby-pink liquid, finished with whipped cream and a ribbon croissant straw topper.
The three Ramadan bazaars—the others are in Kampong Gelam and Bazaria Marsiling—have always been playgrounds for food experimentation. But with their snaking queues and warm fairy lights, it’s easy to forget that most stall owners are also fasting Muslims. Overcoming the gruelling demands of the kitchen on empty stomachs, and unable to taste the food they’re preparing, every dish becomes an execution of practised recipes. Vendors are also burdened with rising food costs and exorbitant rentals, trying to break-even within thirty evenings. While Geylang Serai vendors enjoyed a S$1,000 discount this year, some are still paying at least S$14,000 including additional fixtures such as fans.
Here, social media influencers wield the gospel’s power—their words can either spell disaster for vendors or shepherd crowds into forty-minute lines. Moreover, algorithms that favour engagement mean that a single video by a “nobody” can go viral, and implicate the reputation of the stalls, leading to “food wars”. This is the reason why Sheikh Ali Redha, owner of the popular Kampong Glam tea shop Tarik, has placed a banner reminding everyone to “be human first, influence later”. He encourages influencers to publicise positive experiences, but share criticisms through back channels with vendors so they’ll have “the opportunity to make it right first”. (Much like the government’s modus operandi.) The banner’s copywriting sparked a backlash, with some calling it “religious gaslighting” for its seemingly passive-aggressive tone laden with Hadiths.
In the past decade, the attention economy has transformed these bazaars. Vendors are pushed to constantly reinvent their menus to generate greater digital visibility. It’s no wonder that “viral” dishes are nudging out the traditional, albeit predictable, foods: burger Ramly, otak-otak, traditional kuehs, keropok lekor, and air katira. This spectacle of capitalistic indulgence risks aestheticising Ramadan, stripping it of its religious and spiritual meaning.
Iftar, after all, is intended to be a communal experience of shared time, one where we exercise gratitude and restraint from worldly pleasures. It requires us to subvert the capitalistic clock, forming a collective synchronised rhythm where we’re invited to pause, tune in to Warna 942 FM, and patiently observe the horizon for the sun to set. No doubt, we should cheer the creativity and tenacity that keep our bazaars vibrant and our foods evolving. Perhaps, like that next slice of cake, it’s just about moderation.
History weekly with Faris Joraimi
What do people get out of museum souvenirs? The China correspondent of The Straits Times (ST) recently wrote about the popularity of museum wenchuang (“cultural and creative” memorabilia) among Gen Zs. High on the list of sought-after objects are a fridge magnet resembling the “phoenix crown” of Xiaoduanxian of the Ming dynasty (1368-1644), the longest-serving empress consort in Chinese history; a replica of a Tang-dynasty golden rice bowl from the Shaanxi History Museum; and a plushie of the bronze sword of King Fuchai of Wu (who reigned 495-473 BC), lovingly nicknamed the “fat sword” by netizens, and among the treasures of the Suzhou Museum.
The trend is over ten years old though. In 2013 the Taipei Palace Museum created a sensation uniting both sides of the Taiwan Straits: scotch-tape with the phrase, “The emperor knows” in the calligraphic hand of the Kangxi emperor (1654-1722). In 2016, China's Ministry of Culture called on museums and libraries to develop better commercial products. The National Palace Museum in Beijing put out a lipstick line, paperclips shaped like Qing guards, and even a collaboration with Oreo featuring flavours inspired by the imperial court. Obviously, the move is meant to stimulate greater attendance at sites where national heritage is constructed and presented to the body politic. Judging by revenue numbers and the collecting craze that’s resulted, what a success.
There’s a lot to unpack here, where the exhibiting culture of the museum meets the culture of retail. Some may think the two shouldn’t mix: museums have a mandate for public education and research, not making profits from promoting consumerism. And of course, there’s something sinister about consumption-motivated visits, possibly corroding the museum’s social objective. But there’s much to commend the museum gift shop. As extensions of the gallery, they take art and history down from high-pedestalled displays and into the material culture of everyday life: as mugs, keychains, toys, and notebooks. They make the national narrative in the museum available as personal tokens and experiences; after all, don’t we “consume” the nation through NDP funpacks and Culture Passes?
The wenchuang phenomenon in China has been interpreted as a sign of growing “cultural confidence” given continued stability and prosperity. Supposedly for young Chinese, learning history is cool, and patriotism is fun now! But why don’t we say this about Europeans and Americans who also collect museum merch? I’m not sure all this collecting is driven by cultural pride alone. Could it be that an overlap between seriousness and play makes the museum souvenir tasteful and desirable? You can spend your way through a Western metropolis purely in museum gift-shops: official stationery from the New York Public Library, dinosaur pins from London’s Natural History Museum, a Van Gogh-inspired tea blend at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) has two branches of their “design store” in Manhattan. Must activities be ideologically-motivated if Asians do them? Just as likely, people go museum gift-shopping for various reasons. Themed items seem exclusive, they signal taste in cultural experiences, but they’re also ways to continue engaging with the art and history museum-goers actually enjoy learning about. With a sense of irony, of course, in true 21st-century fashion.
Culture: Lethal weapons
Chokers like barbed wire, rings like knuckledusters, earcuffs like ninja stars: it’s out with accessories and in with armour for Singapore’s Gen Z and Zillennial jewellery brands. And some of these local labels are showing up on other shores, adorning everyone from Swedish metalcore bands to the scammer-socialite Anna Delvey. Ask & Embla, the alternative jewellery brand with a penchant for the cyberpunk and the gothic, counts among its wearers neo-soul queen Erykah Badu and electronic sorceress FKA Twigs, who recently showed up to glossy cover photoshoots in its high-polish rings and cuffs. And you’ll spot some of Closet Children’s handwoven necklaces curled like thorny metal vines around the throats of such K-pop royalty as Babymoner, where in the music video “Psycho” the group’s seven members hurl knives and unsheathe katanas like they’re about to go on a Kill Bill revenge spree. In an era where fandoms devote entire social media accounts to dissecting their idols’ fashion identities, even the glint of a grill could send a jeweller into the same stratosphere as the stars who wear their work. Eagle-eyed fans spotted BTS superstar J-Hope sporting a bracelet by Singapore’s Youths in Balaclava: a delicate ribbon of a cotton bandanna threaded through a sturdy silver plate.
Sterling silver and stainless steel, once the poorer cousins to gold, have become increasingly popular in the jewellery world, where geopolitical volatility and gold hoarding affect precious metal prices. Silver had its time in the sun last year—“precious without being prohibitive”, cooed Vogue Singapore, an easier point of entry to luxury for an “aspirational middle class”. While gold still accounts for over half of revenue in the global jewellery market, and fluctuations in its prices will impact margins more than those of silver—there’s also been a silver spike, making the metal less accessible than before to both jewellers and their customers. But these alt-fashion brands aren’t shying away from the political contexts that shape their handcrafted goods. The shape-shifting design collective Youths in Balaclava was co-founded by six teens from Gan Eng Seng Secondary School in the noughties, and dropped their first collection in 2015: Traitors 2 $ociety, inspired by the students who protested alongside the striking bus workers in 1955, perhaps better known as the Hock Lwee bus riots. The homegrown brand broke out onto the global fashion scene when they made their debut at Paris Fashion Week in 2019, after being talent spotted by Adrian Joffe, president of Comme des Garçons. One of its co-founders, Syaiful Taufiq Iskandar, told ST: “There is a negative connotation to balaclavas, but the idea is that the mission is done without knowing the individual identity. We’re coming together to do this great heist on fashion.” In the times we’re living through, we might need make-up as war paint, and jewellery as a weapon.
Faris Joraimi, Abhishek Mehrotra, Sakinah Safiee, Corrie Tan, and Sudhir Vadaketh wrote this week’s issue.
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