Wei, 23, is a final-year university student gearing up to vote for the first time this year. Like many stepping into adulthood, she’s well aware of the big issues on everyone’s minds – rising costs, housing pressures, job security.
Those conversations are loud and familiar.
But when she pictures the Singapore she hopes to grow old in, it’s not the headline-grabbing policies that come to mind. It’s the smaller, quieter things – the everyday ways people choose to treat one another.
It’s not just about surviving the daily grind.
“Given the rush and stress of our fast-paced society and kiasu culture, I’ve seen strangers being impatient with each other,” Wei says.
This is not an isolated observation.
According to a recent global survey, Singapore ranks among the most stressed societies in the world. In a TODAY video breaking down the findings, it was reported that 86% of Singaporeans feel stressed at least once a week – a figure higher than the global average.
It’s easy to see how patience becomes a rare currency nowadays.
Small moments of everyday tension such as snapping at someone walking slower or “insults being hurled just because someone was walking a little slower or blocking the way” may seem trivial but it shows how basic graciousness often slips through the cracks.
There was even an instance where she witnessed a shouting match over a bus queue which turned an ordinary morning into an unpleasant one for everyone. She reflects “it would be a much happier place if people could just be more patient and polite.”
Wei is well aware that it’s not just others who are at fault. Like everyone else, she’s stretched thin – juggling school, internships, family, and friendships. “It’s not so much that I’m drained,” she says, “it’s more that I get too caught up in my own responsibilities, which sometimes makes me forget to check in on my loved ones. It’s a work-in-progress.”
And who isn’t feeling that, right?
Everyone seems stretched thinner these days.
Online, especially. Social media comment sections, for example, are often filled with people ripping each other apart behind the safety of their screens. Wei can’t help but notice how much more comfortable people seem to be with berating others online, sharing narrow-minded or even downright archaic views. “Especially on mainstream media outlets, people seem very comfortable with tearing others down,” she says. “It makes me wonder if we’re moving backward as a society.”
Annie (not her real name), 27, a new Singaporean and first-time voter, has noticed these unspoken cultural shifts reflected in how political parties present themselves not just in their promises, but in their tone and delivery.
The rallies, she notes, can sometimes feel more like a competition of soundbites than a conversation about values. Yet for first-time voters like her, values are everything as it governs the parts of daily life that policies don’t always reach: neighbourliness, respect, kindness.
“Are [our leaders] actually empathetic, or are they just trying to win debates?” she asks. “I think how someone talks about an issue, even if I don’t agree with their perspective, tells me a lot about how they’ll treat people.”
It’s not that Annie or Wei doesn’t care about the “big stuff.” They do.
But when asked what Wei’s hoping for as she casts her first vote, her answer doesn’t fit neatly into the typical political discourse. “A society that is kinder to animals,” she shares with sincerity.
Her comment, while simple and a little unusual, points to something deeper: the desire for a nation that doesn’t just prioritise efficiency or prosperity, but also emotional intelligence, compassion, and a sense of community. She isn’t looking for grand manifestos that promise perfection. Rather, she’s looking for a signal that the vulnerable and silent matter, even in the small ways.
And maybe that’s the point.
The future we want isn’t always about numbers, productivity, or economic growth. Sometimes it’s about building a place where kindness isn’t a rare heroic act, but a normalised and automatic behaviour.
For Annie, her vote isn’t just a civic duty as a new Singaporean. It’s a quiet assertion of the kind of society she wants to be part of. It’s not just about asking what leaders can do for us, but what kind of example they set and whether that gives Singaporeans permission to be greater to one another. Maybe that’s what’s worth voting for.
What’s the Singapore you envision?