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Redditer: Just like Shenzhen, Johor Will Be Richer Than Singapore. Here's Why.
- Thread starter Tragedeigh
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Singapore is like the high-earning executive in a company. Each month, he collects a 5-figure salary, upgrades to a prime-district condominium, drives a high-end car, and basks in the quiet thrill of parroting Zorro Lim, “I feel so rich.” 
Yet the satisfaction does not truly come from the superior architecture of the condominium or the engineering precision of the car. What sustains the feeling is comparison－the subtle awareness of those in the HDB heartlands who cannot afford the same symbols of success. It is relative standing, more than material comfort, that fuels his sense of achievement.
Johor, by contrast, is like someone who embraces a slower rhythm of life. He may not draw a fixed corporate salary, but in his hometown he owns land and tends a small farm － secure in the knowledge that he will never go hungry. During the week, he rents a modest room in Woodlands, commutes by motorcycle, and on weekends returns to his home in Johor. His wealth is less visible, but it is anchored in something tangible and enduring.
Yet the satisfaction does not truly come from the superior architecture of the condominium or the engineering precision of the car. What sustains the feeling is comparison－the subtle awareness of those in the HDB heartlands who cannot afford the same symbols of success. It is relative standing, more than material comfort, that fuels his sense of achievement.
Johor, by contrast, is like someone who embraces a slower rhythm of life. He may not draw a fixed corporate salary, but in his hometown he owns land and tends a small farm － secure in the knowledge that he will never go hungry. During the week, he rents a modest room in Woodlands, commutes by motorcycle, and on weekends returns to his home in Johor. His wealth is less visible, but it is anchored in something tangible and enduring.
But these are not the true differences between Singapore and Johor. The real divergence appears at retirement.
When the 5-figure salary stops and the executive title disappears, the Singaporean may confront a quieter fear: without the income and the designation, who is he? If identity has long been intertwined with career and status, retirement can feel less like freedom and more like erasure. The lifestyle remains expensive; the validation, less certain. What once signified success may now provoke anxiety. 
The Jiuhukia, however, returns to the land that was always his. His identity was never solely tied to a corporate role. When work ends, life continues along familiar soil. He simply 躺平 and does not spend his life fucking PAP because it's none of his business.
In the end, the contrast is not about wealth versus poverty, nor city versus countryside. It is about where one locates security - in income and status, or in ownership and rootedness.
The Jiuhukia, however, returns to the land that was always his. His identity was never solely tied to a corporate role. When work ends, life continues along familiar soil. He simply 躺平 and does not spend his life fucking PAP because it's none of his business.
In the end, the contrast is not about wealth versus poverty, nor city versus countryside. It is about where one locates security - in income and status, or in ownership and rootedness.
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Let me tell you a story about an old man and his dog.
The dog had been born a puppy in the home of a wealthy man. It was well cared for and lived a life of comfort that few dogs could ever imagine. Yet, to protect the furniture from scratches and mischief, the old man would lock the dog in a cage whenever he was away.
It was not an ordinary cage, but an ornate and spacious one - lined with cushions, polished bars gleaming in the light. Every morning, the old man would take the dog out for a walk. The neighbors, and even the other dogs, would look on with envy at this pampered creature.
Years passed, and the old man began to approach the end of his life. With no one left to care for the dog, he resolved to give it one final gift - freedom.
He brought the dog to the edge of a vast forest and unlatched its collar.
“Go,” he said softly. “You are free now.”
The dog stood there, stunned.
It did not want to leave the old man. It did not know how to live without him - or perhaps more truthfully, without the comforts only the old man could provide.
Nevertheless, the old man walked away, believing that freedom was the most precious gift he could ever offer the dog.
With no need for it anymore, he decided to get rid of the cage. For the time being, he left it in a corner of his garage - empty, silent, irrelevant.
One evening, something strange happened.
He heard a noise coming from the garage. Metal scraping softly against concrete. A faint shuffle. His heart tightened. He thought a burglar had broken into his property.
Without hesitation, he called the police.
Before long, a patrol car pulled up outside the house. Officers stepped out quietly and surrounded the garage, positioning themselves by the side walls and behind their vehicle. They moved with caution, anticipating that the intruder might be armed.
Their revolvers were drawn, fingers tense on the triggers, eyes fixed on the darkened garage - waiting for the slightest movement.
The dog had been born a puppy in the home of a wealthy man. It was well cared for and lived a life of comfort that few dogs could ever imagine. Yet, to protect the furniture from scratches and mischief, the old man would lock the dog in a cage whenever he was away.
It was not an ordinary cage, but an ornate and spacious one - lined with cushions, polished bars gleaming in the light. Every morning, the old man would take the dog out for a walk. The neighbors, and even the other dogs, would look on with envy at this pampered creature.
Years passed, and the old man began to approach the end of his life. With no one left to care for the dog, he resolved to give it one final gift - freedom.
He brought the dog to the edge of a vast forest and unlatched its collar.
“Go,” he said softly. “You are free now.”
The dog stood there, stunned.
It did not want to leave the old man. It did not know how to live without him - or perhaps more truthfully, without the comforts only the old man could provide.
Nevertheless, the old man walked away, believing that freedom was the most precious gift he could ever offer the dog.
With no need for it anymore, he decided to get rid of the cage. For the time being, he left it in a corner of his garage - empty, silent, irrelevant.
One evening, something strange happened.
He heard a noise coming from the garage. Metal scraping softly against concrete. A faint shuffle. His heart tightened. He thought a burglar had broken into his property.
Without hesitation, he called the police.
Before long, a patrol car pulled up outside the house. Officers stepped out quietly and surrounded the garage, positioning themselves by the side walls and behind their vehicle. They moved with caution, anticipating that the intruder might be armed.
Their revolvers were drawn, fingers tense on the triggers, eyes fixed on the darkened garage - waiting for the slightest movement.
An officer shone a torch into the garage, and what he revealed shocked the old man.
The same dog had climbed back into the discarded cage. It had chosen the familiar security and comfort of the cage over the freedom it had been given.
It wasn’t freedom the dog wanted - it was certainty, routine, and the comforts it had always known.
And that, the old man thought grimly, is exactly why Dr. Chee has failed and will continue to fail - because majority of the people, like that dog, will always choose the cage over their own freedom.
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