Last October, when people in most urban centres across the world—including Asian metropoles such as Tokyo, Bangkok, and Jakarta—rallied in support of Gaza against Israeli aggression, those in Singapore were decidedly quieter. To the neophyte, it may have seemed that we just weren’t that passionate about the issue, and had no interest in mobilising. Not true. 

Singapore’s civic space is heavily restricted and regulated through the Public Order Act, which imposes police control and registration on all forms of protests and demonstrations domestically. Facing conditions seen in only a few other countries, local activists have to figure out a way to do vital social, economic and political work while navigating significant roadblocks.

They often frame the fragile space allocated to Singapore’s civil society using the upstream versus downstream model of activism. If people walking by a river see babies floating down it, they’re likely to wade in to rescue them (“downstream activism”). But as they see more babies floating down, they’ll start wondering why this is happening. Some may go further up the river to try and identify the root cause (“upstream activism”).

The Singapore government, like any illiberal democracy, is typically friendlier towards downstream activism efforts; those that seek to mitigate the impact of policy shortcomings in the aftermath. Upstream activism tends to be more contentious, because it seeks to address underlying socio-political structures upon which the ruling People’s Action Party (PAP) is heavily reliant and that it might be more uncomfortable addressing because of the systemic change involved.

Perhaps the most drastic repercussion faced by activists in recent decades was the arrests of the so-called Marxist conspirators in 1987, an incident that still evokes pain and trauma for many. The potential for the state to resort to such action is why many activists resort to downstream activism to bring about slow, incremental change. It’s become a primary strategic choice for grassroots leaders and community organisers. This is what’s known as “pragmatic resistance”. 

The term was coined by Lynette Chua, professor of law at the National University of Singapore, to describe the local gay community’s push for recognition in the 1990s. She defines “pragmatic resistance” as a collectively sustained strategy to adjust tactics according to changes in formal law and cultural norms, and push the limits of those norms while simultaneously adhering to them. The term has since expanded to encompass a larger swath of Singapore’s civil society, referring to the way grassroots organisations seek cooperation rather than confrontation with the state to address social issues.

Kenneth Paul Tan, Singaporean academic and professor at Hong Kong Baptist University (HKBU), argues that the notion of pragmatism is deeply entrenched within the modus operandi of the PAP, which has ruled the city-state since 1959. Building upon Chua Beng Huat’s definition of pragmatism in the Singapore context, which favours solutions deemed “natural,” “necessary,” and “realistic,” Tan situates PAP’s policymaking within the “the ends justify the means” paradigm, and rooted in a cost-benefit calculus.

This, he argues, “often translates into an arrogant intolerance of alternative views expressed by the general public and even independent experts.” These views are dismissed as “idealistic,” foolish or even dangerous, in order to reassert the established discourse. As a result, Singaporeans voicing their discontent with the current socio-political system are often condescendingly exhorted to move to greener pastures overseas.

For those perceived to be more of a nuisance, establishment supporters also take to labelling their actions as unsafe and threatening the country’s fragile peace and order, to the point that association with these names becomes undesirable. Kirsten Han and Jolovan Wham come to mind as polarising figures whose actions have garnered sensational coverage in the local mainstream media.

And yet, even if the image painted here appears bleak, there is much good work being done. The following four stories are about civil society organisations whose relative youth belies their impact in society: Lepak Conversations, SG Mental Health Matters, the Community for Advocacy and Political Education (CAPE), and SG Climate Rally. Together, they show that grassroots organising doesn’t have to be toothless, and can even yield important social and political results while operating within the constraints set by the state.

Lepak Conversations

Yulianna Frederika founded Lepak Conversations (LC), an advocacy group platforming Malay and Muslim issues, in 2020. (“Lepak” is Malay for idle; Lepak Conversations suggests a relaxed, convivial approach to dialogue.)

Israel’s war on Gaza sparked a series of events that would lead to interactions between LC and the government. Yulianna feared that spaces for mobilisation were restrained in Singapore: “We didn’t realise the government was going to clamp down so hard on Palestinian solidarity.” She helped raise funds for humanitarian relief in Gaza, like many Singaporeans. The young activist was then invited to a private discussion on the issue with several ministries and other grassroots organisations. The idea to host the Gaza Monologues: Live in Singapore stemmed from that fateful meeting.

To a certain extent, the government’s openness to hosting the event surprised Yulianna and many others who had read about the Ministry of Home Affairs denying all applications for gatherings related to the “ongoing Israel-Hamas conflict.” For her, it was a timely, urgent opportunity. Mixing testimonies from Gazans living under Israeli occupation, read by local Singaporean artists, with panel discussions involving public figures including Alvin Tan, a minister of state, the event sought to expose attendees to Palestinian voices and perspectives.

Although the event fulfilled much of the organisers’ expectations at LC, they faced criticism from some segments of the activist scene. “Some people weren’t happy that we worked with the government, and said we should have pushed for a more hardliner approach,” explained Benjamin Harris, research assistant with LC. Tan, perhaps facing his own political pressures, was replaced at the last minute by Janadas Devan, chief government communications officer—meaning that no politician was present. An “inevitable tradeoff” in working with the government, Harris said, was having to adopt a more moderate position to “reach a whole segment of the population that would otherwise remain inaccessible without government resources.” 

For Liyana Batrisiya, LC’s head of research, pragmatic resistance in this vein allows organisations to increase visibility of the cause through the state’s resources without necessarily jeopardising the movement. Liyana became involved with the organisation in 2021 when LC was advocating for Muslim nurses’ right to wear the tudung (head covering) with their uniforms. She saw LC as a vital space representing the voices of the Malay and Muslim community on the ground in ways that government platforms don’t usually do, and felt this was the right time to get involved in this activist effort. She cited LC’s male mental health conversations, “Are You OK, Bro?” as the epitome of issues that affect the community but lack a mainstream platform. This in-person effort centered Malay and Muslim men, encouraging them to open up about the stresses on their mental health.

“I was very touched by the effort,” she told Jom, pointing to a generational shift making younger men more willing to attend these events. “It was important to destigmatise conversations of mental health and to challenge the idea that talking about it is a sign of weakness.”

In conducting these events, Liyana spoke of pragmatism as a way to help LC become sustainable. “We made the decision to become more amicable toward the government, to avoid [getting issued a] POFMA order, or being labelled as state enemies.”

The Protection Against Falsehoods and Misinformation Act (POFMA) was enacted in 2019 to allow authorities to issue corrections to people and platforms making “false statements of facts.” While the act tackles the important issue of dis/misinformation, some have denounced its vague formulation as empowering authorities to wield against political critics and to hinder freedom of expression.

Yulianna contrasted this approach with LC’s early days in 2020, when the group’s social media content was more confrontational and critical of the state. “It was important to raise the concerns and the plight of the Malay community,” she recalls of LC’s first few Instagram posts outlining various aspects of Malay and Muslim life, mainly about the tudung issue.

As the platform’s social media following grew, LC turned to working with government agencies to elevate the reach of their tudung advocacy, an effort which “unexpectedly trickled down to concrete policy change,” in the words of Yulianna, when the right to wear the tudung with hospital uniforms was granted the following year.

She cited this example to emphasise the importance of grassroots groups in flagging issues on the ground, then working alongside government forces to induce meaningful policy change. “Opening up spaces for the community to speak up on their issues is so important,” she told Jom, presenting LC as a space for knowledge sharing. “It’s equally important for other parties to listen to our stories and empathise, especially if we strive for long-term, meaningful change.”

Both the Gaza Monologues and tudung activism highlight the value of a pragmatic approach to grassroots activism, in a way that minimises political ostracisation while yielding effective policy results.

SG Mental Health Matters

While working within the government apparatus provides an invaluable platform and resources, concerns remain over potential co-optation of civil society actors, particularly if the government hews to its own agenda instead of evincing a genuine interest in compromising with them. In this sense, pragmatic resistance requires an accountability channel to ensure its efficiency.

This is precisely how Anthea Indira Ong used her time as a nominated member of Parliament (NMP) between 2018 and 2020. Ong’s story—becoming the CEO of her own company by her late 20s—echoes the meritocracy narrative pushed by the government. Following a “colossal collapse,” in her own words, which forced her to rethink her approach to work and the essential role that mental health plays in it, she became more involved in civil society, advocating for a horizontal approach to mental health advocacy. Ong gave the example of how organisations create separate units to oversee diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives, arguing that mental health cannot be treated as such, but needs to be ingrained across the organisation. “Subjective well-being should be the end goal,” she argues.

This holds particularly true given Singapore’s position as one of the world’s most economically and technologically advanced countries. Ong situates the city-state’s current mental health crisis against the backdrop of independence and the tumultuous decades of unrest and regional tensions which resulted in a lingering feeling of existential threat, leaving Singaporeans “constantly on survival mode.” There is an obvious link to be drawn here with the PAP’s pragmatic approach as a means of survival in the aftermath of independence. It also points to the party’s struggle with evolving past that mindset to reassess its stance on public policymaking. The longer this existential paranoia, manifested as a hermetic position on civil resistance, lasts, the more it threatens to exhaust rather than safeguard society in the long run.

“How do we pursue meritocracy and exceptionalism without having a support system set up for failure?” Ong asks, pointing to how Singapore’s pursuit of excellence and exceptionalism trickles down to the individual: “the whiter you are, the easier you’ll see the stains.”

This realisation spurred her involvement with various social advocacy initiatives, both as a leading figure and active volunteer. She says her “C-suite leader in a corporate sector” experience gave her a sense of legitimacy in parliament, akin to other NMPs. Her lack of corporate affiliation, however, made her truly stand out, granting her a privileged position to become a voice of the community without the fear of being restricted in her words by corporate prerogatives. 

“Despite being a rookie politician, I quickly realised that it's never about me trying to get the result I want through my speech, it’s always about my [sic] amplifying other people’s voices who otherwise wouldn’t make it there,” she recalled. “It’s so easy to be tricked into thinking you have so much power, which you do, [...] but it’s important to not let it get to your head and not claim the change.”

She also emphasised the role of the media, particularly when reporting her speeches, in amplifying her cause and helping her gain legitimacy among elected MPs and government agencies. As most Singaporeans turn to the media to understand what goes on during parliamentary sessions, there is undeniable value to having speeches transcribed by the mainstream press. It also serves as a tool for record tracking and accountability.

“This gave me leverage to engage with the government and hold it to account in a way that wasn’t antagonistic, which would have been counterproductive,” she explained. “It’s all about finding a way to phrase something that makes the government want to respond.” The bridge is equally valuable to activists who want their voices heard by those in positions of power. “Without a parliamentary platform, people take to the streets or turn to more extreme means of being heard,” she warned. 

Ong’s advocacy and uncompromising stance in parliament paved the way for SG Mental Health Matters, a group of volunteers and civil society activists concerned with mental health. The initiative stemmed from a Budget 2020 initiative surveying affordability, accessibility, and quality of mental health services in Singapore, which received overwhelming responses. A few weeks ago, SG Mental Health Matters published its “Project Hayat White Paper”, a landmark piece of research that outlines key recommendations for a national strategy for suicide prevention. 

In addition to giving Singaporeans a space to voice their mental healthcare concerns, the project also aims to track parliamentarians and policies platforming the topic to hold them accountable during elections. Ong presents this initiative as “another brand of activism that prioritises proper research and monitoring efforts,” which will materialise ahead of the next general election (GE)—which must be called by November 2025—when the results of this first wave of tracking work will be made available to the general public. In doing so, the campaign holds significant democratising power for the average voter seeking to make sure their vote is as informed and meaningful as possible.

Community for Advocacy and Political Education

While civil society activism is inherently infused with democratic purpose, insofar as it attempts to include the people’s voice in the decision-making process, navigating the meaning of democracy has become an increasingly difficult task in the Singapore context.

Singapore’s definition of democracy appears to have narrowed in recent years, with the PAP relying on the old “Western values” canard to dismiss legitimate democratic dissent. In his exit interview with CNA, Lee Hsien Loong, former prime minister, gave a glimpse of the approach when he presented “wokeness” as a Western movement characterised by entitlement and hypersensitivity. In one fell swoop, he dismissed one of democracy’s key feature—marginalised communities expressing their discontent.

Admittedly, the word “democracy” isn’t without controversy; some have accused the West of weaponising the concept as a justification for military intervention and shaming other countries into complying with the US-led world order. Therein lies the tension: on the one hand, the need to advocate for democratic involvement that helps produce informed citizens ready to vote in a country like Singapore; and on the other, the risk that the very concept of “democracy” is believed to be foreign, in a state increasingly concerned with the threat of foreign interference.

For Haolie Jiang, co-founder of the Community for Advocacy and Political Education (CAPE), this dilemma is central to their work of raising awareness among Singapore’s youths to become politically active citizens. CAPE does this through articles, explainers, events, and other forms of outreach. For instance, they published an explainer called “How to talk to family and friends who voted differently” after last year’s presidential election. CAPE emphasises the idea that popular will is reflected in the political agenda and the way the system is run: “this is the notion of democracy we’re promoting here, rather than the strawman definition used by Asian governments to criticise the West and vice versa.”

He believes that Singapore is still a nascent democracy, presenting CAPE’s democratising mission as an attempt to “explore what a democratically mature Singapore could look like with every citizen’s involvement.” He disagrees with the notion that Singaporeans are by default apathetic, citing instances of communal support during the Covid-19 pandemic as an example. He argues they are depoliticised instead; many might view voting, which is compulsory, as much a chore as a choice. “Sometimes, people feel that all they can do is complain, but we want them to be able to engage more concretely and lead the change,” he said.

This mission has been at the core of CAPE’s advocacy efforts since the group emerged from Yale-NUS College (YNC) around the time of the 2017 presidential election. Led by politically active YNC and NUS Law students, it provides a platform for Singaporean youths to engage with political issues—ranging from electoral processes to the everyday workings of grassroots politics—and ensuring that democratic space remains productive and continues to mature.

In the 2020 GE, held against the backdrop of Covid-19 pandemic restrictions which prohibited in-person rallies, CAPE turned to social media to share infographics and educational resources on voting, the group representation constituency (GRC) system, parliamentary supermajority, and other key aspects of the local electoral process. The group has progressed to external events and ancillary forms of content that can help cultivate the practice of democracy: for instance, CAPE published an explainer called “How to talk to family and friends who voted differently” after last year’s presidential election.

Jiang described CAPE’s online efforts as an effort to “strengthen Singapore’s democracy” by enhancing the political literacy of the voter base, a concept which he says is still quite novel in the city-state. He situated CAPE in a convenient space, spreading democratic ideals without cause-specific advocacy, allowing them to mitigate the risks of being held liable for defamation or shut down altogether.

“We deliberately avoid using political science language to avoid ruffling feathers or turning people away, we instead figure out how to make [these concepts] digestible, because there is value in making it palatable to the people.” In doing so, CAPE earned a seat at the political table with K Shanmugam, the minister for home affairs and law, during the POFMA consultation exercise. For Jiang, the climate of fear and academic concerns over freedom of speech at the time fortified the importance of voices such as CAPE being involved in the conversation.

“We helped draft subsidia​​ry legislation and [platform] concerns and feedback on the ground,” he explained. Despite initial worries that CAPE had only been called to legitimise the process, he nonetheless emphasised that government actors “engaged in good faith” and “honour[ed] the link with civil society.” Through this consultation, CAPE’s work transcended the online arena and played a role in shaping the democratic process, echoing the group’s core mission. 

SG Climate Rally

Access to trustworthy, reliable information is the key to an engaged citizenry. Providing that access is a core function for civil society groups like CAPE which hold knowledge and expertise on the ground. In recent years, many issue-specific grassroots organisations have similarly taken to reaching out to the average voter to bridge the knowledge gap and produce more informed voters ahead of the GE.

This was notably the case for the Greenwatch campaign, a joint effort led by Speak For Climate and SG Climate Rally (SGCR). They are seeking to raise awareness of the climate crisis and shed light on political commitment to addressing climate issues in the GE.

“[A] general election is the one time all Singaporeans start thinking about those kinds of questions, so we wanted to get people thinking about what environmental policy change can look like,” explained Kristian-Marc James Paul, core member of SGCR. The youth-led climate justice collective organised Singapore’s first-ever physical climate rally in 2019. Its last rally in 2023 drew about 1,400 people to Hong Lim Park. Beyond rallies though, SGCR has evolved into an organisation that has a full editorial team consisting of 8-10 active volunteers at any time.

The Greenwatch initiative operates on two levels. First, by providing a scorecard of political parties’ commitment to tackling the climate crisis, as expressed in their respective manifestos; second, a campaign to get Singaporeans to engage with their candidates ahead of polling.

“People become more interested in politics and overall more receptive about the notion of democracy during [general election] times. Our role is to create spaces and pockets of initiatives for people to express their frustrations,” Paul told Jom.

Building on the successful completion of SGCR’s first Greenwatch initiative in the 2020 GE, Paul shared that the organisation would be undertaking a follow-up campaign ahead of the next GE. In addition to the online material the organisation produced during the first Greenwatch, which also came in response to Covid-19 pandemic restrictions on physical gatherings, SGCR is also hoping to host in-person events and rallies to engage more meaningfully with voters.

Paul added that the next campaign departs from the usual climate crisis analysis to an approach focused on climate justice. It looks at how environmental issues connect with material inequalities and the potential of collective action beyond environmental circles, echoing SGCR’s latest climate rally held last September which became a pan-civil society effort. Groups ranging from Transformative Justice Collective to Migrant Mutual Aid took part to shed light on the intersectionality of climate justice.

Paul considers these decisions as part of SGCR’s broader trajectory, stating that “[SGCR has] always positioned itself slightly differently than other environmental groups in Singapore, and [maintains] good relations with civil society organisations from outside the climate sphere.”

He traced this choice of direction to how individual members of SGCR developed their own political positions over time, as well as the relatively young crowd that makes up both its core team and target audience, which he cited as one of the organisation’s strengths. With SGCR’s members being involved in a variety of other civil society, advocacy, and cause-specific collectives, it made sense to the team to have their latest rally be a reflection of that diversity.

“Climate change is a social justice movement, solidarity and intersectionality are at the core of this movement,” Paul explained, stressing the links between the various systems of oppression that can be jointly addressed by environmental divesting.

In describing the impact of climate change on social inequalities, he pointed to the issue of migrant workers in Singapore, which has gained significant media coverage and public attention over the past few years, as an example highlighting the importance of SGCR’s rally as a space inclusive of the fringes that make up local civil society.

“Ultimately, we found it to be more compelling to engage with other civil society groups and university networks than engaging in dialogue with the government,” he said.

A slight departure from the kind of pragmatic resistance preferred by other civil society groups, SGCR’s approach is in line with concerns felt by CAPE when they were first approached for consultation with government agencies. Is working in tandem with the government merely a way to legitimise policy, or is there a genuine interest in platforming grassroots voices through civil society engagement? According to Paul, there is a need to ensure government outreach to civil society remains genuine: “We still invite elected officials to attend our rallies, but we do so in the hope that their engagement is genuine and that they are willing to reach out to us as well.”

In doing so, these bottom-up efforts also challenge the elitist notion that democracy only happens once every five years at the ballot box; it is instead practised on a daily basis, by a plethora of actors who need not be highly educated, white-collar politicians. For a true democracy to prosper, open dialogue and criticism must be at the forefront of public debate. In the face of ever-shrinking spaces for public discussion, these grassroots initiatives are an invitation for citizens to reconsider how often they engage with politics, in what manner, and how they can be part of the political conversation beyond a perfunctory tick on the ballot once every five years. 

Robin Vochelet is a freelance writer and multimedia journalist based in Singapore, covering civil society, social movements, queer identities, and subcultures across South-east Asia. He also writes Pandan Brief, a biweekly newsletter covering social, political, and cultural trends across the region.

Letters in response to this piece can be sent to sudhir@jom.media. All will be considered for publication on our “Letters to the editor” page.