It’s been nine years since that last “I’ll be back” post — long enough for both my kids to graduate from primary school, and for my waistline to reduce slightly... In that time, the world has spun through quite a few chapters: a pandemic that sent us all home to hoard masks and toilet paper, the rise of AI large language models that can write essays, code, and new blog posts, and the transformation of the workplace into a strange hybrid of work-from-home + video calls (tho' that's all gonna stop soon).
So here I am, dusting off this old blog like an archaeologist uncovering relics of my pre-pandemic self. It is kind of embarassing reading one's old posts. The Blogger interface still looks like it came from another era (which it probably did), but there’s a comforting nostalgia in it. And yes, in the spirit of honesty and modern efficiency, I’ll admit: I had a little help from AI while writing this. But the thoughts are definitely still mine.
Instead of ranting on social media or yakking stuff to my family and colleagues, I thought perhaps it is good for my mental health to return to this space as a way to reflect and record my thoughts without any judgement. Maybe no one reads blogs anymore, but that’s okay. Maybe I will wait for another nine years for the next post, but that's okay.
This first return entry started with a conversation about hawker food prices that came up over breakfast with my wife this morning at Serangoon Gardens hawker centre.
We talked about the unique situation in Singapore, where the government actively intervenes in key areas to manage the cost of living that makes Singapore a great place to live in. To control the number of cars on the road, car ownership is moderated through the COE system, which keeps vehicle prices high. Conversely, to ensure that daily living remains affordable, food costs have traditionally been kept low through the hawker centre model—where operational costs are lower compared to coffee shops or food courts.
However, in recent years, hawker food prices have been steadily rising. While part of this can be attributed to general inflationary pressures, it also raises questions about how we can continue to support our hawkers and keep meals affordable for ordinary Singaporeans. One key factor influencing hawker prices is rental. Historically, hawkers have been able to sell affordable food precisely because rental rates were low. Yet, with the increasing privatisation of hawker centre management, this cost advantage may be eroding. If private operators prioritise profitability (and you can't fault them for that), it undermines the social purpose that hawker centres were meant to serve. Perhaps it is time for public agencies to reassume management responsibilities and directly set reasonable rental rates, ensuring that hawker centres continue to function as public goods rather than profit-driven enterprises.
Another concern is the practice of subletting hawker stalls. While some argue that their parents purchased the stalls and now rely on subletting for income, this situation blurs the original intent of hawker spaces. Unlike housing or commercial properties, hawker stalls are not meant to be vehicles for passive income generation. Their purpose is to provide affordable food and preserve an integral part of Singapore’s cultural and social fabric. Tightening regulations to curb subletting and ensuring that stalls are operated by genuine hawkers could help sustain the balance between affordability and authenticity that has long defined Singapore’s hawker culture.
Ultimately, Singapore’s social compact depends on maintaining fairness and balance in how public spaces serve the community. Hawker centres are not merely places to eat; they are symbols of inclusivity, resilience, and shared identity. If we wish to preserve this heritage and keep everyday life accessible for all, policy intervention must evolve to protect the social mission of our hawker culture—keeping it affordable, sustainable, and true to its community roots.
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