Singaporeans are kind, so why are we losing the art of everyday kindness?
Singaporeans are brilliant at rallying behind people in need. But somewhere between viral acts of generosity and everyday life, have we forgotten the small kindnesses that make a gracious society?
“Let us now complement our economic achievements with social, cultural and spiritual development.”
That was then-Prime Minister Goh Chok Tong’s call to Singaporeans in his 1996 New Year message. A year later, the Singapore Kindness Movement was launched to encourage gracious living.
Almost 30 years later, perhaps it’s worth asking: Are Singaporeans actually kinder?
I think we are. During Covid-19, people left hand sanitiser in lifts, bought meals for neighbours and deliberately supported struggling hawkers and small businesses.
When someone’s story captures our attention, Singaporeans respond magnificently.
Recently, an unnecessary act of violence against an elderly hawker whose only crime was to pat a child’s head sparked an outpouring of support, from physiotherapy companies offering free sessions to help with pain management, to first-time customers visiting his wanton mee stall with gifts.
We are very good at big kindness.
But I wonder if we’re forgetting about small kindness.
The kind nobody films. The kind that doesn’t go viral on TikTok. The kind that gets you precisely zero likes.
Paying it forward
A few years ago, I was at the zoo with my then two-year-old daughter. In an overstimulated-parent frenzy, I had misplaced her water bottle. Thankfully, there was a kiosk nearby selling drinks.
I grabbed a carton of water, but their payment system was down. “Cash only”. I haven’t routinely carried cash since roughly 2022. I can’t be the only one.
I offered to PayNow the cashier directly so she could charge the water when the system came back online. She declined. I pleaded again, pointing towards my increasingly hot, thirsty and furious two-year-old.
Still no.
Then a tourist nearby overheard us, pulled out some cash and paid for my drink.
What stayed with me wasn’t the price of the water. It was how unremarkable the act seemed to him.
He saw someone who needed help. He could help — so he did. No hesitation. No “Instagram story” announcing that he had restored someone’s faith in humanity.
Just kindness.
Recently, I found myself on the other side of that interaction.
At my neighbourhood 7-Eleven, a young boy ahead of me was buying a drink but was 20 cents short. The cashier wasn’t budging, so I paid the difference.
Would I have done that before the stranger at the zoo helped me? Maybe not. I might simply have thought, “Well, he should choose a cheaper drink.”
That’s the thing about everyday kindness: once somebody extends it to you, you start noticing opportunities to extend it to somebody else.
And perhaps that’s what we need more of.
Being kind no matter who’s watching
Today, some of our most celebrated acts of kindness are enormous. Someone posts that a hawker stall is struggling and the next day there’s a queue around the block. Singaporeans donate money, groceries and CDC vouchers to complete strangers.
These stories deserve celebrating.
But perhaps the Singapore Kindness Movement’s next big campaign should actually be about thinking smaller.
Say hello to the cleaner uncle downstairs.
Let someone merge into your lane without behaving as though they’ve challenged the honour of your entire bloodline.
Hold the lift. Yes, lifts have sensors now, but sometimes an older person might still need more time. Maybe a father trying to wrangle his children, their scooters and his work bag might need a few more seconds of the door being held to get to the lift.
And, dare I say it, bring back elevator chat.
I know. Singaporeans hate small talk. But start with the classics.
“Just come back from work ah?”
“Going school?”
“Wah, today very hot.”
Meaningless sentences, until they aren’t.
Eventually, “What floor?” becomes knowing which floor they live on. Then you learn their children’s names. You notice when you haven’t seen the elderly uncle upstairs for a few days. Someone collects your parcel when you’re away.
Maybe you even become friends.
The Singapore Kindness Movement was created nearly three decades ago because Singapore’s success was never supposed to be measured purely by how wealthy, efficient or developed we became.
A gracious society is built in much smaller moments.
Singapore doesn’t need to learn how to perform extraordinary acts of kindness. We’ve proved we’re already pretty good at that.
Perhaps what we need to relearn is how to be kind when absolutely nobody is watching.
Jillian Lim is an ex-radio DJ and current embroiderer, trying it all till something sticks.
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