Published: 22 April 2025
Back in 1994, Catherine Lim wrote a bold essay called “The PAP and the People – A Great Affective Divide”. Her point was simple but powerful: the Singapore government might be efficient and high-performing, but emotionally, it was distant from the people it served. There was a gap—not of policy or performance—but of connection, empathy, and trust.
Fast forward 30 years, and that affective divide hasn’t disappeared. But to be fair, some things have improved. There’s been a conscious effort in recent years to engage Singaporeans more actively. National Conversations, policy consultations, dialogues—these show that the government has, at the very least, recognized the importance of being seen to listen.
One standout example was during the COVID-19 pandemic. Lawrence Wong’s leadership and communication style during that crisis really struck a chord with many Singaporeans. He was clear, calm, even emotional at times. People appreciated the human touch. It was probably the closest we’ve come in a long time to a kind of leadership that felt both competent and connected.
But despite these steps forward, the trust gap still lingers. In some areas, it’s arguably even grown.
Take the GST hike. Yes, the government did make efforts to cushion the impact—spacing out the increases and handing out CDC vouchers. That was helpful, no doubt. But many Singaporeans still wonder: was the hike really necessary, especially when we continue to run large budget surpluses year after year? The discomfort isn’t just about the financial hit—it’s about a deeper question of whether citizens’ concerns are genuinely heard or just managed.
Then there’s POFMA—the government’s tool to combat misinformation. While its intent might be defensible, its application often feels heavy-handed. It reinforces the idea that only one narrative matters: the official one. That’s not the kind of environment that builds trust or confidence in the public discourse.
And we can’t talk about recent trust issues without mentioning the NTUC Income sale saga. The sale was initially presented in Parliament with confidence, but it completely unraveled under scrutiny—thanks not to politicians, but to vigilant members of the public who questioned the rationale and demanded accountability. That alone was telling. There’s still no explanation for why such inadequate due diligence was done by NTUC Enterprise’s leadership. Given the close ties between the government and NTUC, the incident has understandably shaken public trust. If even major decisions like this can fall apart so easily, what does it say about governance and oversight?
And of course, the Ridout Road saga lingers in people’s minds. Even though everything may have been legal, the way it was handled—investigating one’s own ministers, no independent inquiry—did little to reassure Singaporeans. Legality is one thing; optics and accountability are another.
So yes, we’ve seen some positive changes. Leaders like Lawrence Wong show that emotional intelligence and connection are possible in our political culture. But we’re still far from closing the gap Catherine Lim warned us about.
Real trust isn’t built through well-scripted consultations or generous voucher schemes. It comes from transparency, humility, and a willingness to own up to mistakes—especially when the stakes are high. Until we see more of that, the affective and trust divide will remain a quiet but growing undercurrent in Singapore’s political landscape.