DURING a recent work meeting, a senior-ish woman shared my joy that mask-wearing was no longer mandatory. The weather was hot and sweaty and the thought of pinning our cheeks to damp fabric did not appeal.
“Yeah, I only wear a mask now when I’ve got a cold,” she said.
“That’s fair enough,” I replied.
“Or when I go to the doctors or have a hospital visit, or when I’m in a packed place, with loads of people, like on public transport, or in the supermarket, or when I’m going out with a big group of colleagues that I don’t know …”
By the time she’d finished, I’d concluded that the only time that she didn’t wear a mask was when she was in bed. Unless her husband had a cold.
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Singapore’s kiasi-ism really is a treat to behold. And if you think there’s a punchline coming, there isn’t. Our societal and cultural obsessions with avoiding sickness, death and any risks that might conceivably move us a step closer to sickness or death are easily mocked, but not readily championed. Why?
Rather than shy away from our kiasi-ism, particularly as we get older, we should embrace it. Bask in the low COVID-19 figures and revel in our mpox readiness. There’s no monkey business when it comes to the slight threat of mpox. Oh no.
Singapore is already providing updates on public health preparedness measures for an mpox virus that hasn’t really reached the island yet.
When COVID-19 was already killing people across Europe, the then British Prime Minister Boris Johnson spoke of shaking hands and singing ‘happy birthday’, making it unclear if he was addressing a global pandemic or speaking at a kindergarten party.
Are we ready for mpox?
Currently in Singapore, Health Minister Ong Ye Kung is already calling mpox a “troublesome” virus and introducing measures, such as vaccinations for frontline healthcare workers and rigorous screening at airports.
Mask wearing is not currently recommended for anyone feeling well, but step onto any bus or train in the last few days. More faces are covered, particularly among seniors.
And it’s easy to be cynical at this juncture. Here we go again. Typical Singaporean strawberries, far too tender and prone to bruising. Whatever happened to ‘keep calm and carry on’? Well, we are, by taking sensible precautions that affect and offend no one.
As it stands, there’s more chance of playing catch with a Bukit Timah monkey than there is of catching mpox, but there’s no harm in being mindful of the risk, no matter how small.
It’s Singapore’s classic “low crime doesn’t mean no crime” attitude. While it’s true that there is some crime around the island, our basic societal values mean we can leave a shopping mall kiosk filled with goodies, unmanned, during a lunch break, safe in the knowledge that everything is being protected by … a plastic yellow chain.
The United States has Fort Knox. Singapore has the plastic yellow chain. I would wager that the latter offers greater security.
That’s why we never have any great crime capers set in Singapore. In Ocean’s Eleven, George Clooney’s gang had to break into an impregnable vault. In Singapore, a thief has to lift up a plastic yellow chain.
No one’s making a movie called The Great Plastic Yellow Chain Robbery.
And still, with serious voices, we’ll remind each other to take care of our belongings and stress, yet again, that low crime doesn’t mean low crime, before leaving behind a thousand-dollar phone to chope a coffee shop seat.
Yes, Singapore’s kiasi-ism is the easiest of targets. When America sneezes, the world catches a cold. When a Singaporean sneezes, everyone on the bus puts on a face mask.
It’s who we are. When it comes to health and illness, we are conservative, cautious and Googling words like “monkey”, “physical contact”, “sex” and “kissing”, which is really not a good idea. The search results threw up some images that will never leave me.
The power of kiasi-ism
But the proof is in the numbers. In the same week that the Health Minister introduced new mpox measures, the Ministry of Health reported that there have been 2,102 Covid-19 deaths since the start of the pandemic in 2020 to June 2024. In total. The figure was described by public health experts as “low”.
Low? It’s near miraculous.
During the pandemic’s peak in 2021, the United States were averaging more than 3000 deaths a day. In January 2021, there were 4,197 Covid deaths reported in a single day in the US. Obviously, there are vast population differences between the two countries. But even the UK recorded 227,000 Covid deaths between March 2020 and May 2023. To reiterate, Singapore has reported 2,102 deaths in total.
And even that figure had to come with a downbeat caveat of sorts. Experts pointed out that COVID-19 nevertheless pushed up Singapore’s death rate, which is a tragic statistic, especially for the families involved. But we should cut ourselves a little slack, considering we were navigating a path through the worst global pandemic since the Spanish Flu of 1919.
But no, that’s not our style. Singapore’s report card always reads, “could do better”. Low crime will never mean no crime. Every COVID-19 death was one too many and a similar approach will be applied to mpox. Mask wearing already feels like it’s on the rise. Our kiasi-ism trumps complacency. Every time.
I still pass the Joint Testing & Vaccination Centre at Sengkang every day, one of five in Singapore, a public healthcare service that might amuse other countries, almost four years after COVID-19 peaked. The mask-wearing in public may well make the odd tourist chuckle. While the latest mpox measures might seem premature and unnecessary.
But how are these things hurting anyone? If they make you – or your family – feel a little safer and more prepared for any unexpected health threats, then who are others to judge? Do whatever makes you feel secure and, for your own mental health, avoid Googling “monkeys”, “masks” and “sex”.
With flu season rapidly approaching, I’ll be getting jabbed and so will my wife. It’s what we do in Singapore. We play the odds to improve our healthcare chances. There’s literally no harm done.
And if my wife starts coughing in her sleep, I’m getting the mask out.
