Redditer: Singapore taught us that keeping investors happy = patriotism

[Insouciant]

​

Singapore taught us that keeping investors happy = patriotism​

From young, many of us were taught to see “staying attractive to investors” as common sense, maturity, even patriotism. So now we accept brutal housing prices, tuition insanity, burnout, stagnant wages, and rising costs as the price of “competitiveness.” But an investor-friendly system is not neutral. It means somebody is absorbing the pain. In Singapore, that somebody is usually the ordinary person.

The older I get, the more I feel like one of Singapore’s biggest achievements was making ordinary people defend a system that squeezes them.

From school onwards, the message was always there. Maybe not in some cartoonishly evil way. Nobody stood in front of the class and said, “Children, your purpose is to keep investors rich.” It was more subtle than that. Social Studies, Economics, National Education, all this constant language about survival, competitiveness, pragmatism, relevance, global confidence. We are small. We are vulnerable. We must stay open. We must stay attractive. We must keep business confidence high.

Say that to a child long enough and it stops sounding like ideology. It starts sounding like reality itself.

So we grow up thinking investor comfort is national survival.

And then we become adults and see what that actually means.

It means housing is discussed like an asset first and a home second. It means BTO, resale, rent, all become numbers on a spreadsheet while actual human beings are just trying not to get financially strangled for wanting a roof over their heads. It means childhood becomes a tuition conveyor belt because every parent is terrified their kid will be the one who falls behind in this never-ending educational arms race. It means every year gets more expensive, every meal gets pricier, every service fee has another fee attached to it, and somehow we are still expected to clap because the macro story looks good.

Investor-friendly sounds nice when a minister says it.

On the ground, it usually means somebody else has to become cheap.

Cheap labour. Cheap time. Cheap sleep. Cheap youth. Cheap hope.

Because where do these beautiful returns come from? They do not descend from heaven. Somebody pays. The worker pays through stagnant wages and insecurity. The consumer pays through rising prices and shrinking value. The young pay through insane housing costs and delayed adulthood. Small businesses pay through rent and pressure while giant firms get treated like precious national assets that must never be disturbed too much.

That is the part that annoys me. The double standard.

When investors want confidence, stability, incentives, infrastructure, policy support, tax clarity, and long-term planning, the whole machine moves for them. Suddenly everything is urgent, rational, strategic.

When ordinary people want cheaper housing, lower living costs, better work-life balance, less insane competition, or just some breathing room, then the tone changes. Suddenly we are told not to be emotional. Not to be entitled. Not to expect too much. Not to forget economic reality.

But whose reality?

Because from the MRT during peak hour, this country does not look like a miracle. It looks like a pressure cooker in formal wear. Everyone rushing, everyone tired, everyone trying to stay functional inside a system that demands constant performance just to maintain a normal life. You are supposed to study hard, work hard, upskill forever, network properly, optimise yourself, invest wisely, marry on time, buy property if you can, somehow have children, somehow care for parents, somehow not burn out, and somehow still smile and call this resilience.

At some point we need to admit that this is not just “life is hard.” This is a specific model. A model where the country must always be comfortable for capital, and the people must always be flexible enough to absorb the rest.

That is why I keep coming back to education. A lot of us were not exactly brainwashed in the crude sense. It was more like we were trained to emotionally accept the same conclusion before we were old enough to question it. “Competitiveness” was treated like virtue. “Investor confidence” was treated like oxygen. “Economic pragmatism” was treated like moral maturity. So by the time we were adults, many of us were already primed to see any criticism of this model as childish, reckless, or ignorant.

That is the genius of it.

You do not need to force people to love the system if you can teach them that the system is the only serious way to think.

So now a lot of Singaporeans will look at soaring living costs, tuition madness, burnout, impossible property prices, and a society that feels more and more exhausting to simply exist in, and still defend the same model that produced all of it. Because in their minds, questioning investor-first logic feels almost like questioning gravity.

I am not anti-business. I am anti-fairy tale.

I do not believe you can build a society that is maximally comfortable for investors and equally humane for ordinary people at the same time. There is always a trade-off. Someone always carries the burden. Someone always gets told to tighten their belt, work harder, adapt faster, sacrifice more.

Usually it is not the people at the top.

It is the office worker with the long commute. The couple staring at property listings like they are looking at luxury goods. The parents bleeding money into tuition because they are scared their kid will be crushed by the machine. The small business owner watching rent eat them alive. The young person who does everything “right” and still feels like life is financially rigged from the start.

So every time I hear Singapore praised for being “investor-friendly,” I just want to ask one thing.

Friendly for who?

Because if the price of that friendliness is an overworked, over-schooled, over-rented population that has been taught from young to confuse corporate comfort with national interest, then maybe this is not some unfortunate side effect.

Maybe that was the deal all along.

 

[jsctan]

The machinery is making all the human as economic units while the handlers and leaders are spliting the spoils from the work. Even kenna tax on consumption of good and services.
Yet we have majority still letting the organs of the state to control and the rest has to continue to move the wheel with no ending in sight.
Only way is to get out of the system and live like those in Europe or USA.

 

[syed putra]

Actually most are not investors. Just tax evaders and wealthy keep money in sinkie for safe keeping.

 

[True Believer]

Actually most are not investors. Just tax evaders and wealthy keep money in sinkie for safe keeping.

Many of the wealthy foreigners who set up family offices in S'pore are evading taxes back in their homeland and laundering their ill-gotten gains in a country that does not ask too many questions.

 

[True Believer]

"Animal Farm" by George Orwell is a satirical novel about farm animals who revolt against their human masters to create an equal society, only to have the revolution betrayed and replaced by a dictatorship led by pigs. It acts as a critique of power, corruption and the Soviet Union, but it also accurately depicts S'pore under the PAP.

 

[tobelightlight]

Because where do these beautiful returns come from? They do not descend from heaven. Somebody pays. The worker pays through stagnant wages and insecurity. The consumer pays through rising prices and shrinking value. The young pay through insane housing costs and delayed adulthood. Small businesses pay through rent and pressure while giant firms get treated like precious national assets that must never be disturbed too much.

That is the part that annoys me. The double standard.

When investors want confidence, stability, incentives, infrastructure, policy support, tax clarity, and long-term planning, the whole machine moves for them. Suddenly everything is urgent, rational, strategic.

When ordinary people want cheaper housing, lower living costs, better work-life balance, less insane competition, or just some breathing room, then the tone changes. Suddenly we are told not to be emotional. Not to be entitled. Not to expect too much. Not to forget economic reality.

But whose reality?

Then do an Iris Koh lah. Type here and there can solve problem? You wait for Iris Koh to protest for you? Put back your balls and start boycotting and protesting.

 

[True Believer]

The PAP have admitted to being pro-business which means pro-employer and anti-employee.

 

[Leongsam]

​

Singapore taught us that keeping investors happy = patriotism​

The older I get, the more I feel like one of Singapore’s biggest achievements was making ordinary people defend a system that squeezes them.

From school onwards, the message was always there. Maybe not in some cartoonishly evil way. Nobody stood in front of the class and said, “Children, your purpose is to keep investors rich.” It was more subtle than that. Social Studies, Economics, National Education, all this constant language about survival, competitiveness, pragmatism, relevance, global confidence. We are small. We are vulnerable. We must stay open. We must stay attractive. We must keep business confidence high.

Say that to a child long enough and it stops sounding like ideology. It starts sounding like reality itself.

So we grow up thinking investor comfort is national survival.

And then we become adults and see what that actually means.

It means housing is discussed like an asset first and a home second. It means BTO, resale, rent, all become numbers on a spreadsheet while actual human beings are just trying not to get financially strangled for wanting a roof over their heads. It means childhood becomes a tuition conveyor belt because every parent is terrified their kid will be the one who falls behind in this never-ending educational arms race. It means every year gets more expensive, every meal gets pricier, every service fee has another fee attached to it, and somehow we are still expected to clap because the macro story looks good.

Investor-friendly sounds nice when a minister says it.

On the ground, it usually means somebody else has to become cheap.

Cheap labour. Cheap time. Cheap sleep. Cheap youth. Cheap hope.

Because where do these beautiful returns come from? They do not descend from heaven. Somebody pays. The worker pays through stagnant wages and insecurity. The consumer pays through rising prices and shrinking value. The young pay through insane housing costs and delayed adulthood. Small businesses pay through rent and pressure while giant firms get treated like precious national assets that must never be disturbed too much.

That is the part that annoys me. The double standard.

When investors want confidence, stability, incentives, infrastructure, policy support, tax clarity, and long-term planning, the whole machine moves for them. Suddenly everything is urgent, rational, strategic.

When ordinary people want cheaper housing, lower living costs, better work-life balance, less insane competition, or just some breathing room, then the tone changes. Suddenly we are told not to be emotional. Not to be entitled. Not to expect too much. Not to forget economic reality.

But whose reality?

Because from the MRT during peak hour, this country does not look like a miracle. It looks like a pressure cooker in formal wear. Everyone rushing, everyone tired, everyone trying to stay functional inside a system that demands constant performance just to maintain a normal life. You are supposed to study hard, work hard, upskill forever, network properly, optimise yourself, invest wisely, marry on time, buy property if you can, somehow have children, somehow care for parents, somehow not burn out, and somehow still smile and call this resilience.

At some point we need to admit that this is not just “life is hard.” This is a specific model. A model where the country must always be comfortable for capital, and the people must always be flexible enough to absorb the rest.

That is why I keep coming back to education. A lot of us were not exactly brainwashed in the crude sense. It was more like we were trained to emotionally accept the same conclusion before we were old enough to question it. “Competitiveness” was treated like virtue. “Investor confidence” was treated like oxygen. “Economic pragmatism” was treated like moral maturity. So by the time we were adults, many of us were already primed to see any criticism of this model as childish, reckless, or ignorant.

That is the genius of it.

You do not need to force people to love the system if you can teach them that the system is the only serious way to think.

So now a lot of Singaporeans will look at soaring living costs, tuition madness, burnout, impossible property prices, and a society that feels more and more exhausting to simply exist in, and still defend the same model that produced all of it. Because in their minds, questioning investor-first logic feels almost like questioning gravity.

I am not anti-business. I am anti-fairy tale.

I do not believe you can build a society that is maximally comfortable for investors and equally humane for ordinary people at the same time. There is always a trade-off. Someone always carries the burden. Someone always gets told to tighten their belt, work harder, adapt faster, sacrifice more.

Usually it is not the people at the top.

It is the office worker with the long commute. The couple staring at property listings like they are looking at luxury goods. The parents bleeding money into tuition because they are scared their kid will be crushed by the machine. The small business owner watching rent eat them alive. The young person who does everything “right” and still feels like life is financially rigged from the start.

So every time I hear Singapore praised for being “investor-friendly,” I just want to ask one thing.

Friendly for who?

Because if the price of that friendliness is an overworked, over-schooled, over-rented population that has been taught from young to confuse corporate comfort with national interest, then maybe this is not some unfortunate side effect.

Maybe that was the deal all along.

What's the alternative? No investment means no jobs, no money for infrastructure, healthcare, and vouchers. Singapore will end up morphing back to the fishing village it once was with the Malays as the majority.

 

[True Believer]

What's the alternative? No investment means no jobs, no money for infrastructure, healthcare, and vouchers. Singapore will end up morphing back to the fishing village it once was with the Malays as the majority.

It has been economic growth at all costs for decades.

 

[Si1verwolf]

You know all those fools who lose their jobs and they think their salvation is doing an MBA which requires them to take out a huge loan to pay the ridiculous MBA course fees?

These fools think after they get their MBAs they'll receive lucrative job offers that will pay them handsomely.

But reality comes crashing down when, after spending all that money on another certificate, they find themselves in debt with no job or in low paying jobs.

This entire time they still don't realise that the only winners were the businesses that sold them all the expensive MBA courses and profited from them through the ridiculous course fees.

Singapore taught us that keeping investors happy = patriotism​

The older I get, the more I feel like one of Singapore’s biggest achievements was making ordinary people defend a system that squeezes them.

From school onwards, the message was always there. Maybe not in some cartoonishly evil way. Nobody stood in front of the class and said, “Children, your purpose is to keep investors rich.” It was more subtle than that. Social Studies, Economics, National Education, all this constant language about survival, competitiveness, pragmatism, relevance, global confidence. We are small. We are vulnerable. We must stay open. We must stay attractive. We must keep business confidence high.

Say that to a child long enough and it stops sounding like ideology. It starts sounding like reality itself.

So we grow up thinking investor comfort is national survival.

And then we become adults and see what that actually means.

It means housing is discussed like an asset first and a home second. It means BTO, resale, rent, all become numbers on a spreadsheet while actual human beings are just trying not to get financially strangled for wanting a roof over their heads. It means childhood becomes a tuition conveyor belt because every parent is terrified their kid will be the one who falls behind in this never-ending educational arms race. It means every year gets more expensive, every meal gets pricier, every service fee has another fee attached to it, and somehow we are still expected to clap because the macro story looks good.

Investor-friendly sounds nice when a minister says it.

On the ground, it usually means somebody else has to become cheap.

Cheap labour. Cheap time. Cheap sleep. Cheap youth. Cheap hope.

Because where do these beautiful returns come from? They do not descend from heaven. Somebody pays. The worker pays through stagnant wages and insecurity. The consumer pays through rising prices and shrinking value. The young pay through insane housing costs and delayed adulthood. Small businesses pay through rent and pressure while giant firms get treated like precious national assets that must never be disturbed too much.

That is the part that annoys me. The double standard.

When investors want confidence, stability, incentives, infrastructure, policy support, tax clarity, and long-term planning, the whole machine moves for them. Suddenly everything is urgent, rational, strategic.

When ordinary people want cheaper housing, lower living costs, better work-life balance, less insane competition, or just some breathing room, then the tone changes. Suddenly we are told not to be emotional. Not to be entitled. Not to expect too much. Not to forget economic reality.

But whose reality?

Because from the MRT during peak hour, this country does not look like a miracle. It looks like a pressure cooker in formal wear. Everyone rushing, everyone tired, everyone trying to stay functional inside a system that demands constant performance just to maintain a normal life. You are supposed to study hard, work hard, upskill forever, network properly, optimise yourself, invest wisely, marry on time, buy property if you can, somehow have children, somehow care for parents, somehow not burn out, and somehow still smile and call this resilience.

At some point we need to admit that this is not just “life is hard.” This is a specific model. A model where the country must always be comfortable for capital, and the people must always be flexible enough to absorb the rest.

That is why I keep coming back to education. A lot of us were not exactly brainwashed in the crude sense. It was more like we were trained to emotionally accept the same conclusion before we were old enough to question it. “Competitiveness” was treated like virtue. “Investor confidence” was treated like oxygen. “Economic pragmatism” was treated like moral maturity. So by the time we were adults, many of us were already primed to see any criticism of this model as childish, reckless, or ignorant.

That is the genius of it.

You do not need to force people to love the system if you can teach them that the system is the only serious way to think.

So now a lot of Singaporeans will look at soaring living costs, tuition madness, burnout, impossible property prices, and a society that feels more and more exhausting to simply exist in, and still defend the same model that produced all of it. Because in their minds, questioning investor-first logic feels almost like questioning gravity.

I am not anti-business. I am anti-fairy tale.

I do not believe you can build a society that is maximally comfortable for investors and equally humane for ordinary people at the same time. There is always a trade-off. Someone always carries the burden. Someone always gets told to tighten their belt, work harder, adapt faster, sacrifice more.

Usually it is not the people at the top.

It is the office worker with the long commute. The couple staring at property listings like they are looking at luxury goods. The parents bleeding money into tuition because they are scared their kid will be crushed by the machine. The small business owner watching rent eat them alive. The young person who does everything “right” and still feels like life is financially rigged from the start.

So every time I hear Singapore praised for being “investor-friendly,” I just want to ask one thing.

Friendly for who?

Because if the price of that friendliness is an overworked, over-schooled, over-rented population that has been taught from young to confuse corporate comfort with national interest, then maybe this is not some unfortunate side effect.

Maybe that was the deal all along.