
Not just cheap labour: The case for greater integration of Singapore's migrant workers
Like many in Singapore, 37-year-old Ella Lyn would spend her days off indulging in a hobby, namely rollerblading with friends.
What's unique about Ms Lyn's experience is that her fellow rollerbladers are made up mostly of migrant workers – though not entirely by choice.
The domestic helper from the Philippines said that during her 12 years here, she has encountered Singaporeans who openly express their displeasure at the mere sight of migrant workers meeting up with their friends in public spaces.
'In my experience, and my group of friends' experience, they (locals) like making bad comments and have bad opinions about us,' she told CNA TODAY.
Even when her friends in the Skate Club Singapore cruise around without bothering members of the public, they become the target of negative comments.
Ms Lyn set up the club with her friends in 2022 and it now comprises mainly migrant workers from the Philippines, Indonesia, Bangladesh and India.
'We have experienced them (members of the public) shouting at us, telling us that we just formed the group to find boyfriends and girlfriends … they also tell us our group is for 'lust',' she recounted.
Ms Lyn wishes that Singaporeans would see migrant workers like her as 'the same (like them), fellow humans who want to relieve stress after work'. She added that she is open to making friends with locals – though she is hesitant about making the first move.
Meanwhile for Mr Mosharof, a lorry crane operator from Bangladesh, told CNA TODAY that he "don't have many" Singaporean friends, despite having worked here for 17 years.
He said that the Singaporeans he has met are generally nice and helpful, but given the very little and precious rest time that he has, he would rather spend it catching up with his friends and family members who are also working here.
"No need, thank you. My work hours are already so long," he replied when asked if he would like the opportunity to make friends with more Singaporeans.
The experiences of Ms Lyn and Mr Mosharof highlight the challenges that work permit holders face when it comes to integrating into and forming friendships with the wider community here.
This group of foreign workers often work in roles which are traditionally shunned by Singaporeans such as in construction, marine shipyards and domestic work.
As many observers have pointed out over the years, they are viewed in a different light to foreign professionals who hold higher-tier work passes, who are regarded by many Singaporeans as a form of job competition.
Still, the migrant workers interviewed by CNA TODAY said they are aware that they are not fully welcome by some segments of Singaporeans.
Despite such negative perceptions about them, most said they would welcome that chance to befriend Singaporeans should they be given the chance.
After all, even though these foreigners are often seen as transient due to the relatively short-term nature of their work permits, many have ended up working here for years, even decades.
This is why Ms Dipa Swaminathan, founder of non-governmental organisation It's Raining Raincoats, said it is a 'misconception' to regard such workers as merely transient.
'You put yourself in their shoes…. If you have studied abroad in a particular country, or work there…people who go and live somewhere else, want to belong in that place,' she said.
'You may have your own family back in your country that you left, but while you're in a place, it's the human instinct to want to belong.'
This underscores the importance of integrating such workers and building bonds with them so that they can feel that they are part of the Singapore that they have helped build, Ms Swaminathan said.
In a speech at an appreciation dinner held in his honour by organisations from Singapore's Indian community earlier this year, Senior Minister Lee Hsien Loong called on Singaporeans to help immigrants and foreign workers adapt to the country's social norms to build a cohesive and inclusive society.
"Immigrants and foreign workers raise political sensitivities in many societies," Mr Lee noted.
But as Singapore relies on them "to top up our population base and talent pool", the inflow and integration must be be managed with "utmost sensitivity", while Singaporeans at the same time "must also stand firmly against nativism and xenophobia, and welcome the new arrivals to become part of our extended family."
Currently, work permit holders are only allowed to work here for a maximum duration of between 14 and 26 years based on skill level, sector and country of origin.
From July, this cap will be removed, which some observers believe will provide a stronger impetus to reassess the integration of such workers and their relationship with the local community, given their even longer duration of stay here.
Sociology experts, advocacy groups and volunteers who work with migrant workers noted that as a society, Singapore will benefit from a more integrated pool of migrant workers since they make up over one-quarter of the total population here.
To achieve this goal, however, would require a gradual approach of dismantling long-held stereotypes and concerns among Singaporeans that have led to the current separation between migrant workers and local citizens.
There is, however, the matter of priority too — and integration is not necessarily high up the list of issues that the migrant worker workforce face.
Non-government organisations (NGOs) and advocacy groups, as well as workers CNA TODAY spoke to, generally agreed that there are more pressing issues that directly impact the daily lives of work permit holders, which still require significant attention.
Such issues include wage theft, welfare protection and physical safety, be it in workplaces or when being transported to their work sites.
Vice-president of Transient Workers Count Too (TWC2) Alex Au noted that low-wage work permit holders do not have the right to bring in their family members, stay beyond their employment and have to return home at some point.
"If, by 'integration', we mean turning them into Singaporeans, and getting Singaporeans to accept them as one of 'us', then it is all quite pointless," said Mr Au, adding that it applies more to those holding higher-tier work passes and their dependents.
"It has no reason to be a priority when we're talking about work permit holders — at least if that is the definition we use."
The "far more important discussion", he said, is how such low-wage workers get mistreated through "active disempowerment and exploitation or through neglect".
Dr Mathew Mathews, principal research fellow at the Institute of Policy Studies (IPS), acknowledged that integration and forging relationships with locals is a 'second, third order' issue relative to the immediate ones listed earlier.
'But I think the bigger picture, in the longer term, fostering a relationship (with Singaporeans) will increase the motivation that Singaporeans have of ensuring that migrant workers are better protected.'
HOUSED SEPARATELY FROM WIDER SOCIETY
Work permit holders here have long formed a big part of Singapore's population, yet many have remained removed from the wider society.
The number of work pass holders here have grown from 990,000 in 2019 to close to 1.7 million as of December 2014. Singapore's total population is about 6.04 million as of June 2024, according to the latest available official figures.
About 301,600 work pass holders are domestic helpers, and 456,800 are from the construction, marine shipyard and process sectors.
As the number of such foreign workers increases, so too have efforts to house them largely away from the wider society.
Since 2006, public flat owners have been disallowed from renting out their homes to non-Malaysian work permit holders from the construction sector. The restriction has since been extended to the manufacturing as well as marine shipyard and process sectors.
The authorities said then that they had taken into account the sentiments of HDB dwellers towards their migrant neighbours in introducing the restriction.
At the same time, dormitories – mostly situated away from residential areas – were built to house male migrant workers.
In 2008, about 1,400 residents in the affluent neighbourhood of Serangoon Gardens petitioned against the proposed construction of a migrant worker dormitory next to their homes. While their concerns were framed around practical concerns such as overcrowding and traffic, the arguments increasingly took on a classist and xenophobic tone, observers noted at the time.
In 2015, during the debate on the Foreign Employee Dormitories Bill to license and regulate dormitory standards, several Members of Parliament also raised concerns from local residents over the prospects of having migrant workers in their neighbourhoods.
The law, which regulates and licenses purpose-built dormitories, came two years after the Little India riot, which primarily involved migrant workers and had accentuated public order and safety concerns.
All these developments influenced how the majority of male permit holders are housed today in relation to the wider community, said experts.
Dr Leong Chan-Hoong, senior fellow at the S Rajaratnam School of International Studies (RSIS), said: 'What we're doing now, is to mitigate potential tension that could arise due to factors such as very different cultures, different economic backgrounds.'
Dr Leong heads the social cohesion research programme at RSIS.
As of end 2024, there were 1,441 dormitories which can accommodate about 439,200 work permit holders – most of them operating at 'near full' capacity, according to an industry report by the Dormitory Association of Singapore Limited and property consultancy Knight Frank Singapore.
In April this year, the government announced six new dormitories with a combined capacity of about 45,000 will be built 'over the next few years'.
Aside from dormitories, there are also eight recreation centres (RCs) for migrant workers, designed to be one-stop places providing basic amenities, shops and services as well as event venues for them.
Six of them are run by the Ministry of Manpower (MOM), the National Trades Union Congress (NTUC), and the NTUC-affiliated Migrant Workers' Centre (MWC). The remaining two are managed by private operators.
More and more migrant workers are turning to such centres for their recreational needs.
MWC's executive director Michael Lim told CNA TODAY that there was a 41 per cent increase in visitorship in 2024 from the year before, averaging 150,000 visitors each month at the RC it operates at Soon Lee.
'This positive momentum has continued into 2025,' said Mr Lim.
Meanwhile, an MOM spokesperson said overall, each of these centres drew an average of over 80,000 monthly visitors in 2024.
Also, the nearly 90 outreach events organised at the RCs in 2024 attracted over 75,000 migrant workers, the spokesperson added.
Experts cautioned that the physical distance between workers' dormitories and the heartlands pose a challenge to integration efforts.
Associate Professor Laavanya Kathiravelu from the department of sociology and human geography at the University of Oslo said: 'Migrant worker dormitories and recreation centres at the edges of the island or in less accessible places means that these men don't interact at all with Singaporeans on a regular basis.
'They are not seen by locals as members of the neighborhood and nation,' added the Singaporean academic who concurrently holds a position in Nanyang Technological University (NTU).
Indeed, a report by the International Labour Organisation (ILO) published in December 2020 on public attitudes towards migrant workers in Singapore said that physical distance in accommodation 'hinders migrant workers from integrating into the local community and encourages segregation and discrimination'.
'City planning can promote social inclusion by avoiding separation of migrant workers' accommodation,' it added.
The report also found that between 2010 and 2019, there was a seven-point decline on a 100-point index measuring public support towards migrant workers. It noted that respondents with no interaction at all with migrant workers recorded a decline of 22 points, more drastic than the four-point decline among locals who had interacted with such workers.
Ms Ratna Mathai-Luke, a programme technical officer from ILO, told CNA TODAY: "People who have regular interactions with migrant workers generally tend to have a more positive perception of migrant workers. So we do know that is one condition that will support positive attitude towards migrant workers."
Commenting on the locations of RCs, MOM said: "They provide attractive options for workers who do not wish to travel far to unwind, connect with their peers and participate in events and activities."
The ministry spokesperson added that workers can still choose to visit any part of Singapore on their rest days.
Agreeing, Mr Lim of MWC added that his organisation "does not see them (RCs) as tools of segregation."
'In fact, many of our programmes at the RCs are designed to bridge communities and build understanding. The RCs are one of several platforms through which we engage migrant workers meaningfully.'
Mr Lim added: 'Importantly, there are no restrictions on where migrant workers can go during their rest days – they are free to visit the public spaces, malls, parks, and places of worship as any other member of the community.
'They are also free to catch up with their friends and social circles both within the RCs and beyond.'
Both MOM and MWC highlighted various programmes organised at the RCs that provide opportunities for locals to interact with migrant workers.
For instance, MWC work with corporate partners to hold "meaningful corporate social responsibility activities" that allow employees connect with the migrant worker community.
"These include hosting appreciation events, skill-sharing workshops, and inter-cultural team-building activities that highlight the contributions and personal stories of migrant workers," said Mr Lim.
Meanwhile, MOM also works with schools and youth groups to encourage ground-up initiatives that support and care for the well-being of migrant workers and promote appreciation for the latter, said a ministry spokesperson.
'Last year, over 4,000 youths from schools and youth groups took part in activities supporting the well-being of our migrant workers. These initiatives include health screenings, financial and computer literacy classes, recreational sports and cultural exchanges as well as youth-hosted visits to local cultural and heritage centres,' said the spokesperson.
GROUND-UP EFFORTS TO BUILD BRIDGES
Apart from these official initiatives, there are notable efforts by civil society, Singaporeans and migrant workers seeking to integrate work-permit holders and to forge a closer relationship between them and residents.
Those involved in such initiatives cited the COVID-19 pandemic, which began in early 2020, as a turning point that shed light on the plight of migrant workers confined to their dormitories during the health crisis.
'The whole nationwide attention on the migrant worker situation has, of course, gone down since then, but I think many of the groups that have actually started during COVID-19 have sustained themselves,' said Ms Jaya Anil Kumar, senior manager for research and advocacy at Humanitarian Organization for Migration Economics (HOME).
SayurStory is one such initiative started by Singaporean Leong Man Wei during the pandemic. Her interest in gardening during the pandemic prompted conversations about plants with her own helper, which made Ms Leong realise how much the woman could share with others about the subject due to the latter's own experience back home in Indonesia.
Ms Leong, now 25, felt that SayurStory could be a way to momentarily 'reverse the power dynamics and direction of teaching and learning', so that employers see their helpers as empowered individuals with knowledge to share, and not just view them as employees.
The community has since organised various activities and events, such as workshops and visits to the park.
One instance that left a deep impression on Ms Leong was an event last October at the National Library where migrant helpers from the SayurStory community acted as facilitators, sharing information on jamu, the Indonesian traditional medicine, with members of the public.
'They (attendees) engaged with the facilitators, with a lot of respect and curiosity in the topic that they were teaching, with a lot of questions around their Indonesian heritage, which in the setting of a typical home between a helper and employer, you don't actually get so much of,' said Ms Leong.
Sports is another area of interest that could transcend ethnic boundaries, if the experience of Mr Shaji Philip is any indicator.
The 55-year-old naturalised Singaporean who came from India, started organising cricket games in 2007 for himself and his friends – but word soon spread and the league now has over 100 teams with more than 3,000 players, of which about 20 per cent are local residents.
'They actively mingle and help the fellow migrant workers to get accustomed and take care of game expenses, if any. When it comes to sports there is no differentiation or segregation between the nationalities and other ethnic factors,' said the deputy director at a public transport operator here, referring to the interactions he saw on the pitch.
'I do observe there are a lot of team parties outside the pitch as well. For some parties, they invite me to be part of their gatherings and I try my best to be available for their invitations.'
Migrant workers, too, are also taking steps to forge closer bonds with the local community.
Ms Janelyn Dupingay, 34, a migrant domestic helper from the Philippines, is a member of the core team behind the Migrant Writers of Singapore, which organises many literary-related events all year round that are attended by both migrant workers and locals.
'For our art and writing workshops, usually there are four Singaporeans out of 10 participants and the rest are migrants. And for (the group's event) Carnival of Poetry, there would be at least two Singaporean writers out of five,' she said, referring to the group's monthly poetry reading sessions.
These events not only provide an outlet for participants to express themselves through the arts, but also to interact with people of different backgrounds and bond over common interests.
'Two years ago, we paired a local and migrant writer to collaborate on a poem that they will perform at Esplanade and just recently, they asked me for a foreword for their upcoming anthology book,' said Ms Dupingay.
'As an organiser, I feel amazed how they stayed connected even after their performance. So I'm looking forward to their book coming out.'
WHY IT'S WORTH FORGING A CLOSER RELATIONSHIP
NGOs and experts noted that in reality, due to how certain policies are structured, low-wage work permit holders cannot be expected to be as fully integrated into the wider Singaporean community as the foreign workers who hold higher-tier passes.
'Integration is typically measured by factors like levels of inter-marriage with locals, inclusion into different sectors of the labour market, access to healthcare and spatial inclusion,' said Assoc Prof Kathiravelu.
'Because low-wage migrants are structurally kept out of institutions like marriage, allowed to work only in certain sectors, have to rely on private healthcare, and stay outside the public housing system in privately run dormitories, the notion of integration is really quite inappropriate,' she added.
Ms Jaya of HOME and Ms Dipa of IRR noted that many migrant workers they have worked with would love a long-term residency in Singapore, a place where they typically spend over a decade working.
'They want to bring their children, they want to bring their spouses, but because they've remained a work permit holder, it's tough for them to do so, and at the end of their tenure, they have to go back,' said Ms Jaya.
Though the migrant workers' stay here is temporary by design, the negative attitudes held by some Singaporeans towards them must still be addressed.
Experts noted how these low-wage migrant workers tend to do '3D' jobs – dirty, demeaning and dangerous – that Singaporeans generally do not want to do themselves, yet acknowledge that they are necessary.
Ms Dipa said that this led to the 'conflicting' way in which Singaporeans treat permit holders.
'They are everywhere, we want them to do the work around us. We don't mind that. Yet, we don't want them living around us,' said Ms Dipa. 'It's something for us to really reflect on ourselves.'
As in other parts of the world where citizens are grappling with the presence of immigrants, two main concerns often underlie locals' fears: economic competition and perceived cultural erosion.
It is the fear of cultural erosion that sometimes takes primacy in the minds of some Singaporeans, said Dr Leong.
'You can reassure Singaporeans as much as you want about the importance of the migrant worker community. You can reassure them as much as you want in terms of what economic benefits, and whether they are law abiding or not.
'But at the end of the day, a lot of what's driving how sharp you want to define the the intergroup boundary has a lot to do with whether you feel that you are being marginalised, whether you feel that your sense of community is being eroded because you have an influx of people who are alien to you,' Dr Leong added.
Given these negative sentiments held by some locals, the importance of integrating work permit holders to the rest of society still needs to be reinforced.
At the most economically pragmatic level, experts and NGOs noted that Singapore, with its fast-greying population and declining birth rate, will constantly be in need of migrant workers. However, as their home countries develop and other countries, too, seek the services of such migrant workers, the latter may not automatically view Singapore as a top destination to work.
For the migrant workers, integration could benefit them in tangible ways too.
Mr Ripon Chowdury, a worker from Bangladesh who runs a self-help community initiative called Migrant Workers of Singapore, said that the social distance between the two sides means that migrant workers' issues 'are not fully understood' by locals.
'When local communities see migrant workers not just as laborers but as individuals contributing to society, fairer treatment becomes a shared cause rather than an isolated issue,' he said.
'In that sense, integration may serve as the foundation that strengthens calls for safer work environments, fair wages, and better living conditions.'
As a society, keeping migrant workers apart from the rest of Singapore will only perpetuate negative sentiments towards the workers.
Dr Mathews from IPS said: 'I don't know how tenable it is to keep the groups so separate. I think it does breed all the stereotypes, all the (negative) concerns. A continual gap between the two groups may not be the most healthy in the longer term.'
Providing shared spaces for both sides to meet and interact meaningfully, on the other hand, would engender trust and greater shared sense of responsibility towards Singapore.
SINGAPOREANS SHOULD TAKE THE FIRST STEP
Mr K Balakrishnan, 38, a construction worker who has been here for 10 years, typically spends his limited free time with his friends and colleagues at the void deck of a quiet block in Jurong, some 15-minute walk from their dormitory.
His most frequent interaction with a Singaporean outside of work is an elderly cleaning staff member who works nearby and always makes small talk with them when the man bumps into them.
Mr Balakrishnan, who hails from India, told CNA TODAY that besides the lack of opportunity, another reason he does not interact a lot with Singaporeans is that he would rather not intrude their personal space if they do not make the first move.
'The uncle was friendly, he approached us, that's why we can talk to him. Other younger Singaporeans, they don't talk to us, we just keep quiet. But if they talk to us, we can talk,' he said.
Mr Balakrishnan's sentiment encapsulated what migrant workers and advocacy groups feel: that the ball is in Singaporeans' court to improve integration and relationships with these low-wage migrant workers.
Ms Jaya of HOME said that workers are aware that they are migrants here and are still largely viewed as foreigners by many Singaporeans.
'I think it's definitely on us to make them feel welcome and integrated and respected,' she said.
Dr Leong argued that while integration is important, it is ultimately a long-term endeavour, and expecting boundaries between the two communities 'to be porous so quickly, is unrealistic' and is bound to elicit a pushback from locals.
In the meantime, it is just as important to continue directly advocating for policy changes over issues that continue to impact migrant workers more immediately and in their daily lives, such as those related to their welfare, safety and protection.
Efforts to reassure Singaporeans that their culture and way of life will always be protected are just as critical to the work done to build shared spaces for locals and migrant workers, said Dr Leong.
'In order to want to engage, to have voluntary contact with the migrant community, you (as a Singaporean) have to first and foremost be confident that you're not threatened in terms of who you are, as a Singaporean, your place in the society and so on,' he said.
Meanwhile, there are signs that things are looking up.
ILO's latest report on public attitudes towards migrant workers in Singapore in 2024 found that 46 per cent of respondents said the pandemic has made them 'more supportive' of migrant workers.
The proportion of locals who feel migrant workers 'have an overall positive effect on the economy' also went up to 69 per cent, from 58 per cent in the 2019 report.
As for now, though migrant workers here may have different comfort levels when it comes to befriending Singaporeans, they all share a common aspiration: to be seen as more than just another replaceable cog in the Singapore economy.
'It is important for us to understand and to be more empathetic towards each other,' said Ms Dupingay.
'It is important because we meet each other every day, at zebra crossings, along the road, at work and even in elevators and escalators. To integrate means to see each other as both humans with the same needs.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Independent Singapore
2 hours ago
- Independent Singapore
My mum expects me to take care of her by getting a high-paying job in Singapore and marrying a "traditional" wife
SINGAPORE: A man took to social media to ask other locals, 'Those who grew up with very demanding parents: in retrospect, did they act in your best interest? Or is it their own?' In a post on the r/askSingapore subreddit, he shared that his mum had placed many expectations on him from a young age. She often reminded him that caring for their parents was '100 percent' a child's responsibility. She also insisted he should eventually marry a 'traditional' woman who would take care of her, and that he must seek her approval before entering a relationship or getting married because 'older people have more experience.' Looking back, he feels that many of these expectations weren't truly about guiding or supporting him, but about ensuring her own comfort later in life. He also wrote that he was expected to get good grades and land a high-paying job, all so she could enjoy a comfortable, or even luxurious, lifestyle. He further shared, 'When I was in junior sec, before we got internet at home, I'd watch channel 8 drama with her, and whenever there's a relationship problem, she always said that this could have been avoided had the male character sought the opinion of his mother before starting the relationship.' 'Only women understand women, she said. And, during my uni years, she always pried on my texts, worried that I was dating someone she had not approved of.' 'They probably did not want me to experience what they did…' His post struck a chord with many Redditors who had grown up under similarly strict parenting. Some felt that, while their upbringing had been intense or even harsh at times, it ultimately came from a place of love and a deep desire to protect them from the struggles their parents once faced. One shared, 'Yes. Mum was what you would call these days a tiger mum. Made sure I did all my homework. And more. In hindsight, everything I enjoy today is thanks to my parents. This is Singapore, and education is probably the most straightforward path to social mobility. My parents grew up very poor. They knew what it was like to be poor. And to be poor in their generation is really no joke. We're talking about going hungry very often and being at the mercy of your landlord. So they probably did not want me to experience what they did.' Another shared, 'In retrospect, they did act in my best interest and then more often detrimental to their own well-being. Our parents were always hard on themselves, saving and keeping their expenses to a minimum, so we could have more. My mum was even apologetic that she and my dad could not leave us much of an inheritance. We had to repeatedly remind them to just spend when they need and not worry about that.' However, not everyone agreed with this sentiment. Others believed their parents were driven less by love and more by a need for control, obedience, or validation. To them, their own needs often took a backseat to their parents' expectations and ideals. One Redditor said, 'No, it was never what was good for me, but what they THOUGHT was good for me, based on their own lived experiences, including generational trauma.' Another wrote, 'I feel like there's a difference between wanting you to do your best for yourself and wanting for themselves. Mine didn't push me for me, she did it for herself and how she would be perceived.' In other news, a woman took to social media to express her frustration after her brother caused the family to lose over S$100,000 in a failed business venture. Posting anonymously on r/askSingapore on Thursday (June 12), she shared that her brother had convinced the family to invest in a promising company where his close friend was the CEO and where he himself had secured a well-paying job. Read more: 'We've lost more than S$100k': Singaporean woman says brother convinced family to invest in friend's failed business Featured image by freepik (for illustration purposes only)


CNA
7 hours ago
- CNA
'I was given food, money. It was heaven': Ex-Vietnamese boat refugee recalls 1980s stay at Singapore camp
When Mr Thao Dinh passed through Singapore's Changi Airport about a decade ago on his way from his adopted home of Australia to Vietnam, the land of his birth, the stopover stirred up a wave of memories. In the 1980s, Mr Dinh, now 54, had called Singapore home for seven months as a 10-year-old, fleeing post-war Vietnam without his parents. He was among thousands of Vietnamese refugees who lived at a camp in Sembawang, near the island's northern coast. The Hawkins Road Refugee Camp operated for nearly two decades, housing so-called Vietnamese boat people – refugees who fled their homeland by sea after the Vietnam War ended in 1975. Set up in 1978 at a former British army barracks, the camp served as a temporary refuge before the displaced Vietnamese were resettled in other countries. At the time, Singapore – as a small nation – did not allow all Vietnamese refugees to come ashore, and it did not accept them for permanent resettlement. Instead, an arrangement was made with the Singapore Government: the Hawkins Road camp could hold up to 1,000 refugees at any one time, and each person had to leave within three months, The Straits Times reported in October 1981. The report also stated that refugees were allowed to land only if they had been picked up by ships flying the flag of a country that guaranteed to take them in, if no other nation were to make an offer. Mr Dinh eventually resettled in Australia, after spending seven months in the camp. LEAVING VIETNAM The year was 1981. Ten-year-old Thao, the eldest of six children, was living in the south of Vietnam between Ho Chi Minh City and Dalat. His parents worked as farmers to raise him alongside his four younger sisters and younger brother. The United States had withdrawn the last of its military forces from Vietnam in 1973. The Vietnam War came to an end in April 1975 when Saigon – the capital of South Vietnam – fell to North Vietnamese forces. In December 1978, Vietnam invaded Cambodia to topple Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge regime. Soon after, in February 1979, Chinese troops launched a surprise attack on northern Vietnam, sparking the brief but intense Sino-Vietnamese War. On the back of years of conflict, a family friend approached Mr Dinh's parents with a request: a loan to help send his son overseas. In return for the favour, his parents asked that Mr Dinh be taken along too. 'We were very conscious that a lot of young men were being conscripted. Fearing that that would be the future for me, they wanted me to go overseas,' he said. The plan was to get Mr Dinh out of Vietnam first. His family would follow later, with hopes of reuniting abroad. 'I was sort of like a pathfinder. So after I was picked up and went into the camp, I would send communication to my parents to say that I made it.' This marked the start of Mr Dinh's journey to Singapore. The arrangement was for the two boys to meet in Saigon, where they would be handed over to a group of people who would take charge of the journey from that point on. 'We started out from the city, but the way they planned it was a bit tricky – that instead of meeting up on a boat at the coast, we (wanted to) avoid attention … so we would break up into small, different groups and start out in little boat taxis in the city and then go over to the coast. 'Once at the coast, we jumped onto a bigger taxi and then – I don't know how many, but dozens or something – medium taxis then transported us out to a bigger boat. 'Apparently the (big) boat was only 12.5 metres in length, and by the time we landed in Singapore, we found out there were 138 people on the boat.' They set off from Saigon under the cover of night, hoping the boat would make it undetected into international waters, where a passing cargo ship might pick them up. But about a day into the journey, the engine failed and the boat was left drifting at sea. 'I was very seasick,' Mr Dinh recalled. 'Everything was so overwhelming.' 'We drifted, I believe, for four days, then we were picked up at sea around the fifth day by a Dutch oil tanker.' As they had been drifting at sea, a fierce storm bore down on them. 'We were sort of preparing ourselves (for the worst),' said Mr Dinh. 'We said our prayers and all that … and I think the water was up to the chest in the boat.' At that point, Mr Dinh said he was knocked out and 'dead seasick'. When he finally opened his eyes, he thought he was staring at a 'huge city' in front of him. 'It was actually the oil tanker. It was so huge that it appeared to be like a city.' Yet while it seemed help had arrived, the storm was so strong that they could not steer their boat close enough to the ship. Instead, crew members aboard the oil tanker threw down a rope. They instructed Mr Dinh and others in the group to secure the rope to their smaller vessel, and to be towed alongside the bigger ship until the storm had eased. Once the storm had passed, the crew lowered ropes and ladders to bring the passengers safely aboard. 'I was picked up at sea on August 15, 1981, and I believe it took a day or two to get on the ship and into the camp,' said Mr Dinh. "So around mid-August 1981, I came into the camp. I was 10 years old then.' LIFE AT THE HAWKINS ROAD CAMP Mr Dinh still remembers his first impression of Singapore after arriving at night and making the journey to the Hawkins Road camp. 'From the city towards the camp, it was dark and I was a bit scared that we were going into a jungle,' he said. 'And then we entered the camp … and I just took things as they were, day by day.' According to an October 1981 report by The Straits Times, one challenge faced by the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) was ensuring that refugees left the Hawkins Road camp within the agreed three-month window. Often, accepting countries were not able to process them that quickly. Managing the camp's population cap was also a struggle. In August that year, for instance, an estimated 4,000 refugees were living in the camp waiting to be resettled – far above the 1,000-person limit, the report said. Mr Dinh, who arrived that August, remembers this clearly. 'When I came into the camp, I think it would have been almost the peak of the refugee crisis. The camp was literally full,' he said. Travelling alone, he was classified as an unaccompanied minor upon arrival. But the on-site orphanage or 'minor house' – meant to house children like him – was 'packed full' and could not take him in, he recalled. 'So I slept right next to the gutter outside, near the soccer field at house number 21.' The camp functioned very much like a village. Mr Dinh recalled a grocery store and coffee shop within the compound. There was also a library, classrooms where English lessons were held for the refugees, and a hospital that also served as a mental health facility. 'At the early stages, I did enrol into (the classes) to learn English. But then the class would change so quickly – people left so quickly and new people were coming in. (It was) really chaotic and after a while, it just didn't get anywhere.' He also remembered being given a daily allowance of S$2.50. 'Each time, I would go and buy an apple at the grocery store in the camp, with a bottle of Coke,' said Mr Dinh, adding that he would then sit at a wooden bridge in the camp that overlooked the soccer field. Because the refugees were expected to be resettled within three months, most people passed through the camp fairly quickly, including many from the same boat Mr Dinh had arrived on, he said. 'I used to cry a lot, because people were coming and going all the time … and they all ended up going before me. So I can remember, there's a lot of tears (because) I had to say goodbye to so many of them.' Mr Dinh held on to the hope of reuniting with his family, who were expected to flee Vietnam after him. 'Almost everyday, we knew people were coming in and we all crowded around the gate and around the fence, looking out and hoping that we would find some of our relatives there,' he said. "I remember that I used to cry everyday, going out just hoping to find my father.' He also remembered feasting on donations of cabbages that were brought into the camp. 'There was an abundance of them, and I used to pickle them and eat them a lot.' What Mr Dinh lacked in family interactions, he found in part through the kindness of missionaries and local volunteers who came into the camp during his stay there. Among those who left a lasting impression were a Franciscan priest he fondly called Father Taylor – 'who I named my email address after,' Mr Dinh quipped – and a Redemptorist priest and missionary, Father PJ O'Neill. He recalled how the priests would enter the camp on weekends to conduct Mass, where he often served as an altar boy. Later on, Mr Dinh also connected with a Singaporean volunteer, Mr Gabriel Tan, who would come into the camp to spend time with the refugees – sometimes even taking them out. 'I did remember that we were allowed to go outside … and I can remember going to a shopping centre at Marsiling,' said Mr Dinh. 'Then I used to take the kids with me to the bridge overlooking Malaysia near the camp … and we used to go along there collecting shells and things out there.' Over time, the camp began to empty out as more refugees were resettled. Mr Dinh, however, remained as he was holding out for news about his family. 'I ended up being there seven months, which is a lot longer than anyone in the camp,' he said. Months later, Mr Dinh finally received the news that his father and three of his sisters had made it to Malaysia. His youngest sister had escaped separately with their grandmother, but the three-year-old died at sea just before they reached land. They reconnected through the refugee commission, which helped facilitate arrangements for the family to be granted visas to Australia. The plan was to reunite in Sydney. Mr Dinh added that his mother and younger brother had also tried to flee Vietnam, but gave up after a few failed attempts. In the end, they waited for his father to sponsor their move to Australia a few years later. 'By March 1982, when I left the camp, it was literally empty. There were only a few people left in every house, and you can see all they left (behind) – all the belongings, their crockeries and blankets. It was just like a whole big rubbish dump – no people, like a deserted place.' The Hawkins Road camp was officially shut down in June 1996, after operating for almost two decades. Speaking in Parliament in 1998, then-Home Affairs Minister Wong Kan Seng said that Singapore was a small country with limited resources and could not accept anyone who claimed to be a refugee. 'We would otherwise be easily overwhelmed by sheer numbers. This would lead to a grave national, social and security problem.' He said that Singapore had previously accepted Vietnamese refugees if a third country guaranteed to take them. However, not all these countries honoured their promise and 'we were saddled with the Vietnamese refugees for a long time.' "We have learnt our lesson and will no longer accept any refugees even if third countries promise to resettle them.' 'HOPE OF STARTING A NEW LIFE' While the Hawkins Road camp offered Mr Dinh a temporary refuge, he never let go of the hope that he would one day be resettled and reunited with his family. 'There was always that sort of hope – that hope and the urge and expectation of going to a third country to be resettled, and starting a new life,' he said. This came in the form of the family's resettlement and reunification in Sydney, Australia. For a while, it seemed like things were picking up. In Australia, Mr Dinh was offered a scholarship to attend a 'prestigious' boarding school in the city of Bathurst in New South Wales. 'It was just sheer luck, coincidence, and nothing (we) planned,' he said. Mr Dinh also managed to reconnect with some of the volunteers and fellow refugees he had befriended during his time at the Hawkins Road camp. 'When we left the camp, we never thought that we would see each other again,' he said, adding that the goodbyes were among the hardest parts of his time there. This made the unexpected reunions years later, outside of the camp, all the more a pleasant surprise. In 1986, a few years after leaving Singapore, Mr Dinh reunited with Mr Gabriel Tan when the volunteer visited Australia. He also got in touch with another former refugee from the minor house, who had since resettled in the United States. But his new life in Australia came with its own set of challenges. After leaving the boarding school, Mr Dinh entered the priesthood – a path that would later take a dark turn. While training to become a priest, he was sexually abused for seven years. 'After seven years, I'd had enough, so I left. I was actually abused by a person 20 years my senior. It was my parents' friend, and he was a priest as well,' said Mr Dinh, adding that he was estranged from his family as a result. Still, Mr Dinh has continued to show resilience in the face of adversity, slowly rebuilding his life and family along the way. After leaving the priesthood, he met and fell in love with his first wife. The pair married a few years later. A business opportunity soon followed, and the couple moved to Brisbane in 1999 to start afresh. There, Mr Dinh ran a bakery and retail food franchise for nearly 20 years. The couple divorced about a decade ago. Today, Mr Dinh remains in Brisbane, where he lives with his 19-year-old son, who has autism. His 22-year-old daughter lives with his ex-wife. He remarried five years ago, and has two children from his second marriage. The family lived together in Australia for about three years, but were later separated due to immigration issues. 'The Australian government decided they didn't believe that it was a genuine marriage, so they sent (my wife) and the kids back (to Vietnam),' he said. 'We are in the process of reapplying … and she's just waiting for her visa to be processed to come back to Australia.' Mr Dinh also found some measure of closure in the years after the sexual abuse. In 2008, the abuse he suffered was investigated by the federal police. Both the government and the church later acknowledged what had happened during the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. He and other survivors received an official apology in Australia's parliament, and Mr Dinh now receives a pension. Looking back on his time in Singapore, Mr Dinh said: 'I never expected anything. And for me, at the time, it was heaven. It was more than I expected. 'I was given food, I was given money … I had nothing to complain about, and there's no mistreatment that I knew of, even though I slept in the gutter. 'Afterwards (after leaving the camp), I knew that the Singapore camp was like a refugee heaven compared to all the other camps – that's my impression.' While he has not visited Singapore since leaving the camp – apart from the brief transit through Changi Airport about a decade ago – Mr Dinh hopes to return one day. 'If I have the chance, I would love to revisit the area, just to see how everything is.' Reminiscing on his time here, Mr Dinh said: 'I think the whole time, there was always a sense of hope because we knew that there (would be) light at the end of the tunnel and there's something good coming at the end of the tunnel. 'So there's always that looking forward to it.'


Independent Singapore
14 hours ago
- Independent Singapore
Singapore's clean image under scrutiny: Is the nation getting dirtier?
SINGAPORE: Singapore's reputation as one of the world's cleanest cities is a source of national pride, deeply ingrained in the psyche of both citizens and visitors alike, but in recent years, cracks have begun to show, or at least, that's the sentiment surfacing online and in the streets. A Reddit thread questioning whether Singapore has become noticeably dirtier in recent years quickly gained traction, amassing nearly 600 upvotes. The original post pointed to increasing litter at bus stops, sheltered walkways, and void decks—tissues, plastic packaging, and drink containers. While no one's claiming the city was ever spotless, the concern is clear: Are we slipping? One commenter, with over 400 upvotes, lamented the state of public toilets—particularly in hawker centres and MRT stations—calling them 'filthy' and asking plainly: 'Why?' Another, reflecting on the broader urban landscape, attributed the perceived decline to population pressures. 'The population exploded. Not enough cleaners. Many new citizens also don't share the same views. Even Little India and Chinatown were cleaner a decade ago,' they wrote—a comment that gained 301 upvotes and opened a deeper conversation on cultural integration, civic responsibility, and urban stress. See also 'How to U-turn politely' video gets netizen's respect & approval So, what does the data say? The Singapore Management University (SMU) released its 2023 Public Cleanliness Satisfaction Survey, conducted with 2,010 residents between November 2023 and January 2024, with an updated reflection in 2024. Although the sample size may not represent the entire population of Singapore, it offers a meaningful starting point for analysing sentiments and conditions on the ground. Still, many question why they've never been invited to participate in such surveys, believing their responses could paint a different picture. The key takeaway? 94% of respondents were satisfied with public cleanliness, up 2% from the year prior, but satisfaction doesn't always tell the whole story. Food outlets—long considered problem areas—showed modest but notable improvements: coffeeshops (+4%), hawker centres (+4%), food courts (+2%), and wet markets (+3%). This could suggest that the tray return policy introduced back in 2021 may finally be bearing its fruit, nudging social norms toward greater interpersonal responsibility. Indeed, more Singaporeans than ever before are wiping down tables and cleaning up after themselves, with 81% saying they would voluntarily do so, citing a sense of civic duty. However, here's the paradox: While belief in personal responsibility is growing, littering behaviours are also on the rise. Fewer people reported that they 'never' littered (a decrease from 91% to 87%), and proper disposal rates declined from 76% to 72%. Still dependent on cleaners, but unwilling to pay more Despite higher expectations, with 94% of respondents wanting trash cleared multiple times a day, more than half (55%) were unwilling to pay more for cleaning services. That leaves Singapore in a curious bind: increasing waste, rising expectations, but stagnant investment in cleaning manpower. The cleaner-to-resident ratio hasn't kept pace with the massive surge in population, a point not lost on many online commentators, and in a multicultural, densely packed society, keeping shared spaces clean requires more than just fines and bin placements — it demands shared values. Beyond trash: A symptom of deeper discontent? The question of cleanliness, then, becomes a mirror—not just of our habits, but of the nation's growing pains. Yes, Singapore is undergoing a population boom. Yes, toilets are being upgraded, and yes, the government is rolling out new initiatives. Still, these upgrades can't plaster over the sense of overcrowding, the rising cost of living, and the diminishing breathing room in public spaces. In some ways, the sight of a used tissue by the void deck or a sticky table at the hawker centre isn't just about litter; it's about feeling like we're losing control of our shared environment. If that's the case, perhaps it's not Singapore that's getting dirtier. Perhaps it's the social fabric that's fraying—slowly, quietly, one stray wrapper at a time.