poor

Don’t call us poor, Ms Lydia Susiyanti Sukarbi, a mother of six who earns about $3,000 a month, told me recently.

Ms Lydia, who started an initiative to provide free breakfast to underprivileged children in her Ang Mo Kio neighbourhood, felt that people should not be defined or labelled by what they lack.

This is because everyone is “under-resourced” in some way, such as in terms of time, money or love, the 36-year-old sole breadwinner in her family said.

Her words gave me pause.

How often do we zoom in on what a person lacks (such as their faults and failings), rather than what they have (their strengths and virtues)?

I was also touched by her compassion, generosity and initiative.

Ms Lydia is giving so much of her time, money and other resources – despite her humble means.

A former school canteen stall vendor, she started the Breakfast Buddy initiative in February as she had seen first-hand how some students went without food themselves so that their younger siblings had money to buy it.

Ms Halinah Yatim (left) and Ms Lydia Susiyanti Sukarbi with primary school students at the Breakfast Buddy initiative on May 28. ST PHOTO: SHINTARO TAY

Some 25 years after I started work as a journalist, people like Ms Lydia renew my hope in humankind.

She reminded me of the importance of looking beyond labels, and that there is a person – and a life – behind every statistic, every story.

For real, there are really good people around

I used to wonder: Why do some people do the good that they do, and what is in it for them? Are they for real? 

In a world where many relationships seem transactional and self-serving, it is easy to become jaded and sceptical.

In the course of covering the social affairs beat over many years, where I report on issues affecting families, youth, elderly and vulnerable groups, I have met many sincere, kind and generous people who have shown me the best of what people can be.

These are the volunteers who open their hearts – and sometimes even their homes – to care for abused children, homeless adults and other groups on the margins.

These are the caregivers who give so much of themselves, without expecting any return or even respite, to look after a loved one stricken by an illness or disability.

These are the people who strive, either in their professional or personal capacity, to help the last, the least and the lost.

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These are people like Ms Lydia, Mr Asher Low, who started a charity to support youth with mental health conditions, and Mrs Jennifer Heng, who founded a non-profit for mums-to-be in distress.

Mr Low, 38, said his own teenage struggles, which included wrestling with feelings of worthlessness, depression and body image problems, spurred him to start Limitless in 2016. 

He was bullied in school for his small build, and he knows there are youth suffering from anxiety, depression or other mental health woes who would not seek help for various reasons. And so he resolved to reach out to them.

Mr Asher Low’s teenage struggles, which included wrestling with depression, spurred him to start a charity to support youth with mental health conditions. PHOTO: ST FILE

To start Limitless, the father of two children went without a salary for three years. His family survived on his wife’s salary and their savings.

Then, there is Mrs Heng, 49, who has been counselling pregnant women in distress for over 20 years. She had two abortions as a teenager and knows first-hand the trauma of facing an unplanned or unwanted pregnancy. 

Mrs Heng started Safe Place in 2018, which offers these women a temporary place to stay and counselling, among other forms of help.

Both Mr Low and Mrs Heng have suffered, struggled and emerged stronger from their trials, and they are using their experience to support others who are now in their shoes.

As someone once told me, turning their pain into purpose also gives their suffering meaning.

And that purpose and meaning, coupled with the good that they are doing, is a reward that cannot be measured in dollars and cents.

Everybody hurts

Looking back, I have to say that journalism broadened my world view, gave me a deeper insight into the human condition, and helped me see things from the other person’s perspective.

And over the years, the vulnerability, humanity and trust shown by the people who bared their lives to me somehow changed me.

Trite as it may sound, I realised that everyone – regardless of their background or position in life – hurts in some way or another. 

Often their wounds are invisible, but they affect their choices, the way they relate with others and their lives.

Mrs Jennifer Heng, who knows first-hand the trauma of facing an unplanned or unwanted pregnancy, started Safe Place in 2018. It offers pregnant women in distress a temporary place to stay and counselling. PHOTO: LIANHE ZAOBAO

So I’m trying to be less quick to judge.

I’m trying harder to listen, and listening to understand.

Change is possible

For a few years until 2020, I helmed the Generation Grit series in The Straits Times, in which we featured millennials who had overcome major adversity in their lives.

I saw first-hand how change is possible, even for those in the most dire of situations.  

The Generation Grit profiles included a man who became paralysed from his chest down at the age of 21 after an accident. He graduated as valedictorian of his batch in university, and became a teacher.

Then there was a young woman whose childhood was marked by poverty.

Her mother took her children and fled her abusive husband, a gambler who was hounded by loan sharks. Despite all her trials, the young woman achieved her childhood dream of becoming a doctor.

So who or what helped these millennials to turn their lives around or defy the odds?

Some said their loved ones, teachers or social workers supported them through their most difficult times. Others cited their religious faith. 

Yet others told me they were determined to rise above their trying circumstances because they wanted to give their loved ones a better life.

In June, I interviewed Mr Rizwan Habib, 43, who started stealing as a child to feed his late mother’s drug habit, and dropped out of school at Primary 2.

He went through seven jail terms and spent a large part of his life, or almost 21 years, behind bars for drug and gang-related offences.

While in jail, he taught himself to read the newspapers with a dictionary by his side. He also took his PSLE and O and A levels at the prison school, and recently graduated with a social work degree which he started on after his release.

Mr Rizwan, who is now a social worker helping ex-offenders and their families, said the fear of growing old and dying in prison spurred him to turn his life around.

Mr Rizwan Habib went through seven jail terms and spent a large part of his life, or almost 21 years, behind bars for drug and gang-related offences. He is now a social worker helping ex-offenders and their families. ST PHOTO: JASON QUAH

What individuals like Mr Rizwan and the Generation Grit millennials have shown me is that the impossible can be made possible.

Sometimes, all they need is someone who believes in them.

One of the most remarkable things about my job is the sheer diversity of the people I get to meet – and the incredible privilege of hearing them speak of their pain and sorrow, trials and triumphs.

Through thousands of interviews over the years, I have come to value the virtues of humility and keeping an open mind.

The more I peel back the news and the people behind the news, the more I realise how little I truly understand.

Many of my old assumptions – and certainties – about people, about life, even about myself, disappear.

As the line from the Joni Mitchell hit Both Sides Now goes, “I really don’t know life at all”.

I have come to realise that often, the deepest conversations and the most insightful interviews stem from not what people are saying. They emerge from what people are not telling you.

As the saying goes, the silence is most telling.

And if I can drill through that silence, I often mine gems.

In July 2000, I started work as a journalist – hoping to make a difference.

What I didn’t expect, a quarter of a century on, is how much of a difference journalism would make to my life.

Theresa Tan is the senior social affairs correspondent at The Straits Times. She covers issues that affect families, youth and vulnerable groups.

silent tears of the child

SINGAPORE – As a lawyer, I have to examine documents to see whether they are reliable. I have to test them out with my clients before they appear in court.

Some evidence comes in the form of video footage, like for road traffic accidents, and they can be hard to watch. There is also footage showing parents in a heated argument, escalating into physical exchanges – all carried out before their helpless children.

Several months ago, I stumbled upon some heartbreaking footage, recorded without audio, that stayed with me for some time.

For context, it is about a family on the verge of a break-up. The father had left home, leaving the mother behind to carry the burden by herself.

Weighed down by the stress of work and caregiving, the mother was caught on camera packing her things into a bag. I was told she left the house that day.

But she returned after about an hour. She had never intended to stay away. She just needed to find an outlet for the betrayal she felt when the father suddenly left the family.

More than two years had passed. Although he visited the children on various occasions, the couple remained separated.

The poignant part comes next. The silent footage showed the couple’s young daughter walking into the room. She rummaged through every drawer and found them empty.

She then gently closed them and walked over to the bed where her parents once slept. She sat down and turned her body around and fell face first on the pillow. It seemed that she was weeping silent tears.

I could identify with how that child felt at that moment. I had a similar experience nearly 40 years ago.

I had returned home with my PSLE results. I did not do well. I knew I had disappointed my father. I hesitantly showed him my results. He did not say a word. He was having his lunch in the middle of the afternoon and he was silent after taking a look at the results.

I was hoping he would say: “It’s okay, son, we will work this out together.” I was hoping for a warm pat on the back, but I got a cold brush-off. Keeping a brave front, I then went to shower. As the water ran over my face, I wept.

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Although the sting is long gone, I have learnt empathy from that experience. I was trained to be more emotionally sensitive as a husband and a father. It is said that you never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. The memory of my experience was like a chisel that shaped me.

Our children shed silent tears too. Not every moment of that is captured on video. As parents, we see only the tears that are not hidden.

As they grow up, they tend to keep their tears to themselves. With a longing for privacy, they start to build their own walls. They let in only those they trust. Parents should count it a privilege if their child trusts them enough to let them in.

As they cry in the dark, they may not fully understand the confusion, uncertainty and anxiety within them. But I am sure they long for us to say, “my child, you are not alone”.

How we as parents respond to our children’s silent tears means a lot to them. At that young, impressionable age, we are their world.

No family is perfect. Parents also shed silent tears. But I have learnt that our brokenness is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign that we are only human. And I empathise with that mum who lost it for a moment when she packed up and left.

I return to that young daughter who shed silent tears on the bed. It is heartbreaking, but what the footage did not show was her mum returning to her that same day.

I can imagine her relief. I can imagine her running over to hug her mum. That is the beginning of healing, with this unspoken assurance, “my dear, you are never alone.”

I recall my healing too. That day, about 40 years ago, my tears may have been washed away by the water, but over time, my dad and I bonded. We recalled the opportunities missed and made amends. In our own ways, we bridged the gap.

Michael Han is a father of three and managing partner of a legal firm.

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boy in boy childhood

NEW YORK – The importance of role models for girls seems irrefutable. Efforts since the 1990s to provide female role models have had great success opening doors for girls and young women, who now outpace boys in education, outnumber men in law and medical schools, and excel in male-dominated fields like tech and politics.

At the same time, boys have many fewer male role models in their daily lives. While men still fill most positions of power across American society, the people who interact with children are largely women.

Occupations like paediatrics have switched to mostly being done by women, while those that were always female-dominated, such as teaching, have become more so.

At a crucial time in their lives, boys are increasingly cared for by women, especially the many boys whose fathers are not a regular presence.

This lack of male role models, say researchers, parents, young men and those who work with them, is contributing to their struggles in school and employment – and the overall feeling that they are adrift.

Working with children has long been considered women’s work, and as a result, has been undervalued, with low pay and a stigma against men doing it. The share of professional men in children’s lives has decreased even more in recent decades.

Over roughly the same period, single-mother households became more common. Mentorship groups say they struggle to find as many male volunteers as there are boys who need them.

And as families have become more insular – participation in community groups and churches has declined, and children spend less time playing outside with neighbours – children get to know fewer adults.

Some researchers and people working to support boys say there needs to be more of a focus on recruiting and training men to work with children.

“While women, I believe, are doing their very, very best to raise boys, I believe until men become part of that process, we’re not going to make a huge dent in this issue,” said Tony Porter, chief executive of A Call To Men, a group that provides training on healthy manhood and violence prevention.

Face-to-face role models matter

Girls continue to need more role models, especially in areas once closed off to women, such as leadership. Boys have many examples of men in power – and of course, boys also learn from female role models.

But research suggests that it is the adults whom children personally know – and who share their gender or race – who have the biggest effect.

They influence children by representing what is possible, modelling behaviour and empathising from shared experience. And their presence has been found to improve educational performance, career decisions, motivation and relationships.

Much academic research on the role model effect has been about girls, but some studies have shown how having men in their lives helps boys.

Black boys do better in neighbourhoods where there are more fathers around, even if not their own. Coaches, one of the few male-dominated jobs working with children, can play a formative role in shaping children’s outcomes.

Growing up without a father at home, as one in five children do, particularly disadvantages boys, several studies have shown.

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In interviews and written responses sent to The New York Times’ Upshot as part of the newspaper’s reporting project on young men, several said the need for role models was more crucial than ever. This is because they thought society no longer had shared values about what being a good man means.

Boys in poor areas are the least likely to have male role models, which can contribute to achievement gaps by family income and gender, researchers have found.

Ms Michaela Kiger teaches at an alternative high school in New Castle, Delaware, where most of her students are boys from low-income families. The girls often have clear career plans, she said – mostly being health aides or cosmetologists – while the boys do not.

They cling to traditional gender roles, she said, believing they should provide for and protect their families, yet being unwilling to seek fast-growing healthcare jobs because they are considered women’s work.

“We tell them that they have a future and can pursue a different kind of life for themselves than what they were born into, but they don’t see enough concrete examples of that actually happening for men in their community,” Ms Kiger said.

A big role for coaches and teachers

Many men said that male mentors can make all the difference.

Mr Tristan Armstrong, a 26-year-old engineering graduate student in Salt Lake City, grew up in rural Utah, where he said he was surrounded by male role models – his grandfather, father, uncles, neighbours, teachers, Catholic priests and coaches.

When he was having a hard time in junior high, the football coach noticed, and recruited him to play.

The coach ended up being pivotal in Mr Armstrong’s life, “reaching out and helping me through that and finding the thing I excelled at and took pride in”, he said.

“He really looked at it like he was teaching us to be good, healthy, functioning young men.”

Mr Tim Gruber, 31, who teaches kindergarten and first grade in Driggs, Idaho, said he hopes his students see in him a full version of manhood.

“They see me as a guy amid a sea of women,” he said. “I would like to believe that I’m exhibiting different notions of masculinity. Yes, I’m a hard worker. Yes, I’m going to be strict and hold them to high expectations. But also, I will willingly share, I’ll cry with the kids, I will show my emotional side too.”

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Public support for activities outside school, in the arts or sciences or athletics, is important to ensure that children, especially those from low-income backgrounds, have a range of caring adults in their lives, said Jean Rhodes, a psychology professor and director of the Center for Evidence-Based Mentoring at the University of Massachusetts Boston.

And, she said, men who interact with children, even informally, could recognise their role in boys’ lives and receive training to become effective mentors. NYTIMES

why I didn't choose brand sch for my dd

SINGAPORE – Some friends are surprised that I chose not to send my daughters to my alma mater, a brand-name girls’ school that has an affiliated secondary school offering the integrated programme.

“There are parents moving house just to get their girls in. Why didn’t you send them there?” asked one.

“You should think long-term. PSLE will be less stressful,” advised another.

While I love my school and agree with my friends to a certain extent, ultimately, I decided otherwise.

My husband and I chose to send our eldest child, a boy, now 19, to a nearby school.

We picked one that was three bus stops away, known for not giving too much homework, as I prefer my children to have more free time to play, read or rest.

When it came to my elder daughter’s turn to register for Primary 1, we had a choice of my alma mater – which was more than an hour away by public transport – or her brother’s school.

Based on the rules then, my daughter, now 16, stood a chance at the popular primary school I attended, even though we live outside the 2km radius.

Ultimately, distance won out. We picked her brother’s school so that she would not have to wake up at 5.30am to wait for a school bus to pick her before 6am.

How important is a school’s reputation?

There are parents who view primary school registration as a high-stakes exercise, going all out to ensure their child gets into a branded school.

Some even go as far as to lie about their home address. This is because when there is more demand than places in a school, priority is given first to Singapore citizens living within 1km of the school, then those between 1 and 2km and, lastly, those outside 2km.

In June, a parent was charged with giving a false address to enrol her daughter in a primary school.

She is not the only one. More parents have been caught over the last five years for using false home addresses to get a place for their child in popular primary schools.

Parents who prioritise a school’s reputation say they like the network that their children would be able to tap in time. They also like the “safety net” of having an affiliated, brand-name secondary school that their child can fall back on should he or she not do as well in the PSLE.

Some believe that these schools have better teachers.

But with principals and vice-principals rotated every five to seven years, I would increasingly expect best practices to be shared among the schools whenever leaders move.

In addition, from 2027, key personnel – such as heads of departments who have been in the same schools for more than eight years – will also be reshuffled so that more schools get to benefit from their experience.

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Advantages of a nearby primary school

My two older children adjusted well to their primary school, enjoyed their co-curricular activities (CCA) and had friends they enjoyed spending time with.

So much so that when it came to my now nine-year-old daughter’s turn to register for Primary 1, they were rooting for her to attend their school.

Attending the same school gave my two older children more opportunities to bond as they shared similar school experiences and teachers.

Even though two of them have graduated from the school, they feel a sense of affinity when my younger daughter talks about their school, CCA and teachers – some of whom had taught them before.

Having a shared experience they can bond over despite a wide age gap is precious.

With a nearby school, they get more sleep every day. Saving time on a long journey to and from school provided more time for rest, homework and play.

This may be more critical as CCA and extra lessons end later in upper-primary levels.

Some friends who chose to send their child to a neighbourhood school like the “big fish in a small pond” effect. The competition is not as keen and the child has time to adjust to the rigours of formal schooling.

Impact on secondary school choice

The only time I second-guessed my choice of school for my daughters was when my elder one was sitting the PSLE.

I briefly wondered if I had done her a disservice by not sending her to my alma mater with its safety net and all.

But seeing the extra rest and downtime she gets every day, as well as a pace of learning that suits her in both her primary and secondary schools, convinced me that it was the right decision for her.

Furthermore, without an affiliated secondary school, we could focus on looking for one we felt she would thrive in.

If I had put her in my alma mater, I might have felt compelled to let her continue in its affiliated secondary school, and I’m not sure if she would have been happy there.

Years into motherhood, I have become more discerning and now look beyond the brand of a school to consider whether it would be a good fit for my child.

What to consider when picking a primary school

The Primary 1 registration exercise is going on and July 21 is the start of Phase 2B, for a child whose parent is a parent volunteer, or those with church or clan connections or community leaders.

Factors to take into consideration when selecting a school for a child include distance and school culture.

It may also be useful to find out if the school has a CCA one’s child might enjoy, as not all schools offer a full suite of activities.

Special-needs support and emphasis on mother tongue are other areas to think about.

Finally, it is important to understand the child’s strengths and interests.

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I spoke to a parent who sent her two sons to her alma mater, one with a strong Chinese heritage. She sometimes wonders if she did the right thing, as they are struggling with Higher Chinese and find it challenging to cope with the level of difficulty and amount of homework they are given.

To help them catch up, they attend tuition for a subject which they are not interested in.

“I sometimes wonder if they might not dislike Mandarin so much if they went to another school where they do not take higher mother tongue,” she mused.

Of course, for every child who struggles, there will be one who thrives in the school. So, knowing a child’s inclinations might be key to finding a school he or she will bloom in.

Phase 2B might be a period of anxiety for parents who are hoping their child will get into their top-choice school.

But whichever school your children end up going to, encourage them to bloom where they are planted and they may blossom beyond your expectations.

Jane Ng is a correspondent at The Straits Times who covers parenting and education stories. She also writes a monthly column, Minor Issues, where she mulls over her own parenting dilemmas.

infertility in men

When Singapore’s low birth rate gets discussed, the focus is usually on the women and their willingness – or otherwise – to have more babies.

Well, here’s a news flash. Male-related fertility issues are behind half the cases of couples struggling to have babies. This could be on account of low sperm count, sperm that are not shaped properly, sperm motility problems or a blockage in the male reproductive tract that keeps sperm from getting out.

The irony: Sometimes it is efforts by men to look more masculine that cause these problems. In any case, male infertility is not discussed often enough but it is an issue that needs to be addressed because, in many cases, it can be prevented if the right information is disseminated.

So what are the medical issues that need to be addressed?

In a local study comparing 218 infertile men with 240 fertile men whose wives were pregnant at the time of the study, it was found that the infertile men had a much lower concentration of sperm – 14.8 million/ml – compared with their fertile counterparts, who had an average sperm concentration of 44 million/ml.

At the National University Hospital (NUH), preliminary data from a study of 900 couples undergoing assisted reproductive techniques revealed that about 85 per cent of men had one or more abnormalities on semen analyses, such as abnormal sperm concentration, motility and morphology.

Although the statistics are real, male fertility issues remain a taboo and are rarely discussed openly. Why is this so? Both ignorance and embarrassment play a part.

Mr J, a 36-year-old finance adviser, has been planning to start a family with his 33-year-old wife, Ms L. They have been married for two years but they have both been busy with planning for their new home and career progression.

To de-stress, Mr J goes to the gym regularly, and finds that keeping in top form with a muscular physique boosts his confidence at work and intimate moments with his wife, while trying for a child. However, the couple have not been successful despite regularly trying over the last 14 months.

They signed up for a fertility health screening at a private clinic and Mr J was devastated to learn that his sperm count was low and the sperm were not moving normally.

The masculinity myth

“I never thought I would be the one with the problem. I am in good form, I take protein shakes, work out, eat clean and have no intimacy issues with my wife,” Mr J shared. “I wonder if I can ever be a father.”

Most men, presumptively more than 90 per cent, feel guilt and shame driven by public perceptions shaped by unrealistic portrayals surrounding masculinity and fertility in entertainment and social media.

Importantly, men often feel that masculinity is linked to virility, a concept that does not always equate to fertility. This is partly due to social and cultural stigma, and a lack of awareness and understanding about the causes and effects of, and treatments for, male infertility.

Furthermore, media images depict muscular men to convey idealised notions of masculinity. This has led many young men to pursue the perfect physique, by using sex steroids-adulterated products to enhance muscle growth and metabolism.

Unfortunately, this can hurt sperm production. Long-term use of sex steroids in healthy men can even cause sperm production to cease completely, leading to male sterility and atrophy of the testes.

“The fertility doctor asked me detailed questions about my lifestyle and exposure to potential risk factors that can affect my sperm count and quality.

“I shared about the supplements I bought online to boost energy, muscle growth and performance, as well as wearing overly fitting underwear and tights during my workouts,” Mr J recalled.

Such misconceptions and misinformation are further aggravated by the lack of open discussion among men on their reproductive health.

A conventionally greater focus on female reproductive health issues may overshadow men’s concerns about their contribution to the fertility journey.

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Additionally, limited awareness of the signs and symptoms associated with male infertility makes it more challenging for men to identify their reproductive health problems.

A 2023 white paper found that 76 per cent of respondents from Singapore expressed a low to moderate level of knowledge about conception and infertility, including how it affects both genders.

In Singapore, the Ministry of Education’s sexuality education programme has expanded significantly over the years, to also address topics like sexual assault, the prevention of sexually transmitted infections and responsible decision-making.

Expanding the scope of the sexual education curriculum for youth to incorporate the topics of infertility and sexual dysfunction can help raise awareness and normalise these conversations.

“I wish I had discovered earlier in my life about the need to be careful about my reproductive health. I stopped taking those supplements totally and also changed my gym attire completely. I hope this will improve my sperm count and motility,” Mr J said.

He remains motivated to optimise his lifestyle choices to improve his fertility, before the couple decide whether to move on to assisted reproductive treatments.

Normal function does not mean fertile

Achieving erection and ejaculation may suggest that one’s male reproductive anatomy and function are normal. However, being able to produce semen does not necessarily mean there are no fertility issues.

This misconception has resulted in many men falsely believing that if they can perform functionally, they have no problems. This complacency often means that men need convincing before they agree to undergo fertility assessment with their spouses.

Mr J is still feeling guilty that he is the cause of the couple’s inability to conceive.

“I am functioning normally, and there are no signs that there is something wrong with my fertility,” he said. “I only managed to find out, opportunistically, because we are trying for a child together.”

Appropriate and adequate sexual health education can help men understand the causes and effects of male infertility and seek help when needed.

Open discussions and access to dependable, well-curated resources by hospitals and fertility clinics, including the NUH’s National University Centre for Women and Children, as well as national associations such as the Family Planning Australia and American Society for Reproductive Medicine, can enable early diagnosis and treatment. This improves the chances of successful fertility outcomes for men.

Essentially, breaking this taboo will help reduce the shame and fear associated with male infertility, allowing men to feel more comfortable seeking support and treatment in a timely manner.

This can also help men’s health in other ways. Many large population studies show that normal results from semen analyses in men are associated with improved healthy longevity and reduced risks of cardiovascular diseases.

A 2017 study showed that having an infertility diagnosis among men increased the risk of developing diabetes or ischaemic heart disease by 30 per cent and 48 per cent, respectively.

This is all the more reason to educate young men and help them understand why it is important to care for their reproductive health.

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Maintaining a healthy lifestyle, avoiding smoking and excessive drinking, eating a balanced diet, managing a healthy weight, as well as optimising mental health and reducing stress are essential for male reproductive health.

These steps seem simple but require discipline. That is why men who don’t consider that their general health can impact their reproductive health realise this only when they try to have children.

It’s also important to note: Men suffering from any cardio-metabolic conditions such as hypertension, diabetes and hyperlipidaemia, if left uncontrolled, are at risk of suffering from poor reproductive health such as erectile dysfunction, ejaculatory disorders, libido issues and poor spermatogenesis.

“I will continue to exercise, keep fit to look good the natural way through well-curated exercises suitable for me, improve dietary habits and avoid all quick fixes to look bulky and macho,” Mr J said. “Having my wife as my pillar of support during this journey humbles me tremendously.”

Ultimately, raising awareness of male reproductive health can lead to earlier diagnosis, better support, shared responsibility and greater involvement of men in their journey to conception with their spouses.

Mr J said: “Having all this information beforehand would have made me more conscious of my choices in life. Importantly, knowing that there are specialists and doctors who manage patients with men’s health issues can be enlightening and empowering.”

Adjunct Assistant Professor Huang Zhongwei is a consultant at the Division of Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility, Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology, National University Hospital.

china

When the Government revealed that the country’s critical infrastructure was under attack from cyber threat group UNC3886, Singaporeans responded by snapping up those 4-D betting numbers. From a glass-half-full perspective this, at least, showed that the message was heard.

This was “peak Singapore” behaviour, as one commentator put it on X.

Even Coordinating Minister for National Security and Minister for Home Affairs K. Shanmugam noted this trend following his widely reported July 18 speech on the “advanced persistent threats” posed by UNC3886.

A day after his warning – which global media outlets picked up – he highlighted on Facebook how the number 3886 had quickly sold out on Singapore Pools for both big and small bets.

He wrote: “I said Singaporeans need to know that UNC3886 is attacking us in cyberspace. And that it’s very serious. One reaction: No. 3886 has been sold out for 4-D today.”

There was a hint of wryness, perhaps, but surely, better this than the message falling on deaf ears.

The light-hearted response aside, Mr Shanmugam’s revelation has opened up several critical debates – not least whether UNC3886 is, in fact, China-linked. The minister named UNC3886 but did not identify the state actor behind it, though Mandiant – a highly reputable cyber-security firm and part of Google – labels the entity a “China nexus espionage group”.

Some, who regard China as intrinsically benign, dismiss this label as Western geopolitical spin. But Singaporeans should recognise Mandiant’s established credibility in global cyber security. Beijing’s denials – including a statement from its embassy in Singapore after Mr Shanmugam’s speech – alone are not sufficient to brush these claims aside.

The ‘why’ and ‘how’

However, even setting aside attribution, a bigger question looms: Why Singapore?

Cyber attacks on civilian infrastructure aren’t unprecedented. Examples include Russia’s sabotage of Ukraine’s power grid in 2015 and 2016, and Israel-linked hacker group Predatory Sparrow’s recent attacks on Iranian military-linked banks.

The Israeli-US Stuxnet worm attack in the 2000s is another case – it crippled Iran’s centrifuge machines, which were ostensibly for civilian nuclear use but suspected of weapons development. One of the largest campaigns saw Russia-linked hackers target over 1,000 oil and gas firms across 84 countries in the Western world. This was first discovered by CrowdStrike in 2012.

Yet these past attacks shared a common thread – they targeted adversaries or nations locked in clear conflict. Singapore’s situation is markedly different. The Republic notably has friendly ties with all major powers, making the cyber attacks particularly baffling.

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What is UNC3886, the group that attacked Singapore’s critical information infrastructure?

More worrying still is that this infiltration goes beyond routine cyber espionage of telecom and wireless networks – an established if unwelcome practice among states. The focus on critical civilian infrastructure marks a serious escalation.

In the US, a hardening view – openly expressed by Washington officials – is that China-linked cyber threat groups undertake attacks not merely to extract military or commercially sensitive information but to infiltrate the infrastructure underpinning civilian life, ready to unleash chaos when geopolitical tensions spike.

This assessment was starkly illustrated by Ms Jen Easterly, director of the US Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency during President Joe Biden’s tenure.

She testified in Congress in January 2024 that in a conflict over Taiwan, China could leverage this latent access to launch damaging cyber attacks against critical infrastructure in the US or allied countries. The goal would be disrupting lives and potentially harming civilian populations.

On her agency’s assessment of China’s motive, Ms Easterly noted: “This is truly an Everything Everywhere, All At Once scenario. And it’s one where the Chinese government believes that it will likely crush American will for the US to defend Taiwan in the event of a major conflict there.”

Beyond “why”, the “how” of these attacks is also deeply alarming.

As Mr Shanmugam indicated, successful sabotage could have a cascading effect across the island. He mentioned that an attack on the power system, for instance, could affect everything from water supply and transport to medical services – not to mention the impact on the economy if the Republic’s banks, airports and industries cannot operate.

One real-world example of an attack on civilian infrastructure is the May 2021 hack by an affiliate of DarkSide, a Russia-linked cybercrime group, that took down America’s largest fuel pipeline for six days. The attack on Colonial Pipeline caused shortages across the country’s East Coast and a spike in fuel prices.

Harder to counter

The consensus across the cyber-security industry is that these threats are becoming harder to counter.

One fear is that groups might leverage agentic AI, which could supercharge their operations by making autonomous key functions such as writing malware, devising and executing phishing campaigns, exfiltrating and encrypting data, and issuing ransom demands.

The other problem cyber-security circles have been discussing is the trend of private players conducting cyber attacks and hacking campaigns on behalf of state actors who previously undertook hacking in-house.

These “hackers for hire” discover previously unknown “zero-day” flaws in software, search for where the vulnerable programmes are installed, hack many of them simultaneously, and then sell access to multiple government customers and other security companies.

A July 16 Washington Post report detailed this trend by what it said were Chinese actors. The report cited CrowdStrike data showing that hacks from suspected Chinese government actors doubled from 2023 to more than 330 in 2024. The numbers continued to climb as President Donald Trump’s administration took over.

The newspaper quoted unnamed US officials saying that bursts of espionage are typical with each new president.

Mr Shanmugam, in his speech, noted that the advanced persistent threats undertaken by the likes of UNC3886 had increased “more than four-fold” between 2021 and 2024.

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Naming and shaming

So what’s the point of naming UNC3886 now?

The act of publicly attributing cyber threats like UNC3886 should not be underestimated. Although the Singapore Government chose not to explicitly identify the state actor behind the group, simply naming it publicly carries significance.

The official rationale, gleaned from government remarks, seems to place public awareness at the heart of the decision.

Mr Shanmugam clearly made this point during a doorstop interview on July 19, following his speech a day earlier. Minister for Digital Development and Information Josephine Teo echoed this reasoning on Facebook, writing: “Singaporeans should be aware about the ongoing threats we face in cyberspace and there is never a perfect time to disclose such incidents.”

There’s a strong case that these disclosures help build public backing for cyber-security policies, justify greater investment in cyber defences, and pave the way for tougher diplomatic responses against offending state actors should the need arise.

What was perhaps left unsaid – but remains just as significant – is the likely signalling to the foreign actors behind these advanced persistent threats.

That message would have been amplified by the whole-of-government response that followed Mr Shanmugam’s speech. Alongside Ms Teo, Defence Minister Chan Chun Sing also weighed in, noting that Singapore Armed Forces and Ministry of Defence units would collaborate closely with the Cyber Security Agency of Singapore to counter UNC3886.

Taken as a whole, the official message to the foreign actors can be summarised as “We see you, we’re tracking you, and we’re ready”.

In Singapore’s case, subtlety remains essential. Unlike the US, Singapore does not have the geopolitical influence to name state actors outright without risking diplomatic repercussions. Nevertheless, publicly identifying UNC3886 sends a clear message to any actor behind advanced persistent threats: Singapore intends to respond firmly – if not always preventing successful attacks, certainly swiftly containing them.

• Bhavan Jaipragas is deputy Opinion editor and a columnist at The Straits Times.

china

Each August, the most powerful man in the world drops from view. Chinese President Xi Jinping will probably leave Beijing this week and join senior officials at the beach resort of Beidaihe, three hours east of the capital, for a summer retreat. Communist Party grandees have gathered in its villas since the days of Mao Zedong. Even so, extended absences can stir heady speculation outside China about the leader’s grip on power.

The 2025 summer conclave will reflect Mr Xi’s stunning success in remaking the party’s top ranks: the old guard are dead, senile or sidelined and loyalists reign. China’s paramount leader appears to have no serious rivals; he guides the world’s second-biggest economy and its largest armed forces seemingly unchallenged.

For world leaders, access to him is imperative. In recent days he hosted the foreign ministers of India and Russia and held talks with Australia’s Prime Minister. And America has just insisted that “the odds are high” of a meeting between Mr Xi and US President Donald Trump later in 2025.

China’s elite politics remains a black box. If a leader were ever in trouble, outsiders might be the last to know. But analysts now whisper that Mr Xi’s governing style may be changing in subtle ways. Having originally strengthened a system of commissions in order to dominate the bureaucracy, he is dialling back.

Certain commissions, which are a kind of committee run by Mr Xi, are convening less often. In others he is allowing trusted lieutenants to implement his agenda. And he is appearing in public less frequently.

Yet far from challenging the authority of China’s party chief, these developments may only enhance it.

If a shift in style is under way, it would mark a striking change for a man who has ruthlessly centralised power since taking office in 2012. The number of officials under investigation has grown alongside Mr Xi’s own authority: a crackdown launched in April 2024 has led to 433,000 being probed.

Recent purges in the armed forces have been remarkable. Several generals who once sat on the five-man Central Military Commission, the party organ which controls the armed forces and which is chaired by Mr Xi, are under investigation or have disappeared from view. The most recent seeming example, General He Weidong, would be the highest-ranking military officer to fall since 1967.

Leading a party of allies solves some problems, but Mr Xi appears wary that it can create new ones, too. Those chosen for their loyalty may lack experience, shy away from delivering bad news or see opportunities for graft. Mr Xi told the 24-member Politburo on June 30 that “the string of self-revolution must be tightened even further”.

Black and white and red all over

After taking office, Mr Xi wielded power through a host of party commissions that permitted him to sidestep the state bureaucracy and other vested interests. A powerful institutional weapon, they also allowed him to sideline officials not of his own choosing, such as the previous prime minister Li Keqiang.

Mr Xi has set up nearly a dozen commissions of his own, overseeing different areas of governance and steering his domestic agenda. But more often now he’s sending written instructions to related meetings rather than attending, says Mr Neil Thomas of the Asia Society, an American think-tank.

The number of such meetings appears to be dropping, too. The most important commission, on economic reform, met 38 times in the first five years he was in charge. Since 2022 it has done so only six times and none has been publicly announced since August 2024. Its communiques are also shorter, which suggests it is making fewer decisions. Other commissions led by Mr Xi have similarly fallen off, notes Mr Christopher Beddor of Gavekal Dragonomics, a research firm.

In its meeting in June, the Politburo created regulations (though it did not publish them) clarifying for the first time the responsibilities of party commissions, most of which are still chaired by Mr Xi. Tellingly, they must “coordinate without overstepping and ensure implementation without overreaching”, the meeting readout said.

The new regulations are part of Mr Xi’s efforts to “rule through rules”, perhaps so that his agenda prevails even when he is not in the room, says Dr Holly Snape of the University of Glasgow. All this appears part of a drive to ensure that the country answers to the party above all else, with Mr Xi at its head, and that there is no separation of powers.

The other change in Mr Xi’s approach relates to delegation. He has begun awarding stewardship of some weighty commissions to underlings. Limiting the groups’ powers may make Mr Xi more comfortable handing over control of them, notes Dr Victor Shih of the University of California, San Diego.

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In particular, he has placed his trust in Mr Cai Qi, in effect his chief of staff, Mr Li Qiang, the prime minister, and Mr Ding Xuexiang, the deputy prime minister. Each was given a party commission to lead in early 2023. All sit at the apex of power on the Politburo’s seven-man standing committee and Mr Xi broke convention in 2022 to promote them. They have strong ties to the top leader, but weak links with each other.

Mr Cai is widely regarded by observers as Mr Xi’s most trusted adviser. He controls the scheduling, communication and security of the party leadership. Unusually, at the same time, he is in charge of the daily operations of the party centre’s hulking bureaucracy. Yet it is the often-overlooked Mr Li who seems to have gained most from the top leader’s slow shedding of duties.

Mr Li served as chief of staff to Mr Xi between 2004 and 2007, when Mr Xi was still a provincial governor on the rise. Mr Li has since regained some of the responsibilities that were stripped from his predecessor, including some say over economic policy. Mr Li also seems trusted: He went to the Brics summit in Brazil in July in Mr Xi’s place. It was the leader’s first absence from the gathering in 12 years. Mr Li also enjoys considerable clout within the state bureaucracy. New rules allow him to summon bureaucrats at will and hold study sessions on topics of his choosing. Mr Xi is the only other leader who has such latitude.

Mr Li may have also benefited from an odd event in April, when two members of the Politburo swopped jobs without explanation. The result is that one of Mr Li’s old colleagues now oversees party personnel decisions ahead of the five-year party congress, which will meet in 2027 to decide key appointments for the next term of government.

Delegating functions to loyalists, while failing to identify a successor (and hence potential rival), may be signs of a leader preparing to rule into old age. Mr Xi is 72 years old (his mother Qi Xin is 98). There are no indications that he will step aside when his third five-year term ends in 2027.

In their twilight years, both Mao and Deng Xiaoping fragmented authority to ensure that subordinates served as counterweights to prevent any one gaining too much influence. They became oracle-like, pontificating on ideology from behind a curtain. Over time Mr Xi may come to shape such a system – one where ultimate power remains his, even in absentia. © 2025 THE ECONOMIST NEWSPAPER LIMITED. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

rest redefined

Work-life balance. It’s the phrase that won’t go away. We’ve tried to make it more palatable – calling it “work-life harmony” or “work-life integration”. But the framing remains unchanged: work on one side, life on the other, and the self somewhere in the tug of war. 

Work-life balance is now the top priority for job seekers in Singapore across Gen Z, millennials and Gen X, according to the latest Randstad Workmonitor Survey 2025. It’s a timely and telling signal: People of all ages are exhausted, and they want their lives back. 

But we’re still asking the wrong question and reinforcing an unhelpful outmoded frame. What if the deeper issue isn’t balance, but rest? Not rest as luxury or laziness. But rest as a fundamental rhythm that allows both life and work to thrive and that enables us to feel like whole human beings, not just productive ones. 

It’s time to reframe the conversation – not “work-life balance”, but work-rest rhythm. Because we’re not being undone by work alone; we’re being undone by a culture that doesn’t know how to rest. 

The false binary: Work v life

The term “work-life balance” assumes that work and life are separate, even opposing, forces. This framing will always make “work” the villain – the thing we must control or minimise to have a “life”. 

The implication? That life begins when work ends, and that every hour spent working is an hour stolen from living. The result is a perpetual zero-sum game, laden with a constant sense of guilt or failure. 

There’s also a twist – many of us are burning out, not just from work that we get paid for, but working at life, too. Social obligations, caregiving responsibilities, parenting, side hustles, community involvement, even the quiet striving of self-improvement – these can deplete us as much as any job. 

If “life” outside “work” is another to-do list, then the idea of balancing work against life becomes not only unrealistic, but harmful. The more truthful question isn’t, “how do I balance work and life?”, but “how do I build a life rhythm that includes work and restoration?” 

A culture of exhaustion

Singapore consistently ranks among the most sleep-deprived countries in the world. One study found that more than half of us have less than seven hours of sleep daily. Even our children and teenagers suffer – 65 per cent of school-age children in Singapore do not meet the recommended nine to 11 hours of sleep on school days. Many of us wake up tired and go to bed wired, caught in a cycle that treats rest as luxury and exhaustion as effort, sometimes even excellence. 

The chronic sleep deprivation isn’t just a personal health issue – it’s a public one. Sleep loss has been linked to poor concentration, weaker memory, impaired judgment and increased risk of anxiety and depression. In children and youth, insufficient sleep is correlated with higher mental health vulnerabilities and academic stress.

In organisations, sleep-deprived leaders lose the spaciousness of mind that allows us to make wise, compassionate decisions. One study by the Centre for Creative Leadership found that sleep-deprived leaders make 45 per cent more errors in strategic decisions, show a 30 per cent decrease in their capacity to recognise emotions in team members, are rated 20 per cent less charismatic by subordinates, and have 35 per cent lower stress resilience. 

A leader told me, only half-jokingly, that “I will sleep when I’m dead”, inspired by some motivational speaker who espoused optimising every moment with precision. 

I once coached a CEO who hadn’t had a full weekend off in over two years. She believed she had to always “show up” to inspire her team. But her team was mirroring her pace, and burning out. When she began logging off visibly, sharing her own struggles and respecting boundaries, the culture softened, and trust deepened. They didn’t do less work, but they worked with more energy, honesty and care. 

As a society, we associate rest with weakness, or worse, laziness. Yet burnout isn’t a personal failure. It’s often the outcome of systems that glorify doing and undervalue being. Too often, rest is framed as the opposite of productivity, when in fact, it is the foundation of it. 

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Rest is more than sleep

To change our work culture, we need to change how we define rest.

Rest is not only sleep, though sleep is foundational. Dr Saundra Dalton-Smith, a physician and researcher, identifies seven kinds of rest we need as human beings.

There is physical rest, and mental rest – pausing between tasks instead of racing through the day. Emotional rest comes from spaces where we can be fully ourselves without having to perform. Sensory rest is found in silence or in stepping away from our screens. Social rest doesn’t mean isolation, but time away from interactions that drain us. Creative rest is found in beauty, nature, or play. Spiritual rest connects us to something larger than ourselves – meaning, values or presence.

Most of us aren’t missing just one form, we’re lacking several. We may sleep eight hours but still wake up depleted because the deeper kinds of rest – emotional, mental, spiritual – are missing. 

Workplaces, by and large, are not set up to offer or support these deeper forms of rest. Even when “well-being” is discussed, it’s often as a perk, a benefit, or a wellness app – not a redesign of how we work or rest together, and what we prioritise for sustained performance. 

How language shapes our perspective

As a leadership coach and mental health advocate, I’ve come to see how profoundly language shapes how we see ourselves and the possibilities available to us.

What we name becomes what we notice; what we say becomes what we allow. And what we repeat becomes who we become.

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I choose not to use the word “busy” to describe my days. Naming it gives the illusion of self-importance, yet rarely the nourishment of meaning. Instead, I say my days are “love-packed”. Because for me, work is love (and life) made visible, as poet Kahlil Gibran so poignantly put it. 

When we keep framing work as the opposite of life, we reinforce a cycle of scarcity, guilt and anxiety. We speak ourselves into being constantly overwhelmed. 

In my own journey – from corporate life to Parliament to social impact to personal growth and my relationships – the work I do in each is deeply connected to who I am. It’s not something I clock in and out of, but an extension of my values and joy. 

“Work-rest rhythm” is a more truthful and helpful framing. It acknowledges that we are not machines to optimise, but human beings who must restore to thrive.

I recently returned from a 10-day silent retreat at a monastery in Nepal. With no agenda except to sit, walk, eat and sleep, my mind resisted it. But soon the stillness felt like a soothing balm. Rest is not a break from my purpose, but a way to return to it more deeply. 

Living in rhythm, not resistance 

This isn’t about mandating naps at work or idealising slow living. It’s about reframing and taking action at every level, not just in workplaces, but across our lives and communities.

As individuals, we can start by paying attention to what kind of rest we’re missing and not waiting for burnout to give ourselves permission to pause. We can change our language, to stop glorifying “busyness” and start honouring a daily rhythm of restoration. We don’t need to say we “have to” pick up our kids, or go to the gym, or meditate – we choose to. 

Organisations can design buffer zones or downtime into the workday, protect meeting-free hours and honour digital boundaries. 

Findings from a recent study by WorkWell Leaders – a registered charity I founded – showed that the well-being of leaders is the most influential driver of organisational well-being and the third-most influential driver of organisational performance. Leader well-being is 56 times more effective in shaping organisational well-being than stress management and resilience programmes, and 50 times more effective than well-being apps.

As a society, we can and must shift our national narrative of productivity to deliberately include rest as a strength, not a slowdown. Our public messaging, our health promotion frameworks, even our economic ambitions must be rooted in sustainable aliveness, not endless output and KPIs. We must create systems where rest is not squeezed in, but built in. 

Rest isn’t a reward for work; it’s part of work – and work is very much part of life. 

Anthea Ong is a former Nominated MP, social entrepreneur, mental health advocate, author and leadership coach.

value of tsing hua

It’s post-graduation season in China. Tiger Moms are naturally comparing notes on the salaries of fresh alumni from top universities. What kind of return might they expect, after spending years – and sometimes a fortune – demanding academic excellence from their offspring? 

A doctor friend told me recently that her son got a job at Huawei Technologies, considered one of the most prestigious employers in China. The young man studied computer science at Tsinghua University and then Brown University in the US. Huawei is starting him at 400,000 yuan (S$72,600) a year, the parent beamed. 

Is my friend’s son getting paid too little for this kind of resume? Tsinghua is synonymous with status in China, counting among its famous alumni President Xi Jinping and his predecessor, Hu Jintao. It churns out fewer than 10,000 graduates a year, about the same as Harvard.

Plus, large US technology companies are offering astronomical amounts to woo Chinese talent. Meta recently poached AI researcher Ruoming Pang from Apple with a US$200 million (S$257 million) package. Mr Pang went to Jiao Tong University, a top engineering school in Shanghai.

After some research, I conceded that the Huawei package is fair. A Tsinghua graduate with three years of work experience can expect to make 238,188 yuan on average, according to Zhaopin Limited, an online recruiting services platform.

About one-third are working in tech, and most would boast at least a master’s degree as well. Of the class of 2022, only 10 per cent entered the job market with a bachelor’s degree. Their peers overwhelmingly chose to further their studies. 

As China’s “engineer dividend” starts to pay off, big employers seem less willing to offer steep premiums for elite diplomas. Companies like Huawei routinely recruit at so-called Project-985 schools, which refers to the country’s 39 top universities. But candidates are on the same starting line once that threshold is cleared. Some might end up making millions of dollars a year, but they must prove themselves first. 

After all, the various tech breakthroughs that China has experienced in 2025 show that innovation can pop out of anywhere.

The chief executive of Manus, which captured the attention of investors with autonomous AI agents that help execute sophisticated tasks, studied software engineering at Huazhong University of Science and Technology in Wuhan. The founder of humanoid robot start-up Unitree Robotics, who earned Beijing’s acclaim for making machines agile enough to dance and perform gongfu, went to a local university in Shanghai. That’s not a 985 institution.

Beyond those working on deep tech, soft skills, such as teamwork and the ability to deepen client relations, matter more to on-the-job success than academic excellence. Does a Tsinghua diploma signal high emotional intelligence? Not necessarily. It’s perhaps better that my friend’s son jumped onto the bandwagon while the job market still rewards his diploma with higher pay.

This begs the question of whether Tiger parenting and tormenting children with after-school tutoring lessons still make sense. Can the parent’s lifelong project generate positive net present value? Teenagers certainly dislike the academic race to the bottom. A 2016 study found that 40 per cent of first-year students at the equally prestigious Peking University felt life was meaningless, and 30 per cent hated studying. 

For centuries, the traditional Confucian culture established a causal relationship between academic excellence and extreme success later in life. As China’s talent pool broadens and society becomes more diverse, that linkage is being shaken. A Tsinghua diploma is no longer so special. BLOOMBERG

Shuli Ren is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering Asian markets.

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grok

Two characters have been added this past week to Grok, the chatbot developed by billionaire Elon Musk’s company xAI, including a flirtatious girl with all the hallmarks of a manga character: enormous eyes, thigh-high fishnet stockings and an exaggerated hourglass figure. Mr Musk spent the early hours of July 16 promoting the character on X, pointing to how Grok was climbing the app store ranks across the world.

Of course it was. “How have you been, my cutie?” Ani asks me when I talk to her. She goes on to call me “babe” and “handsome”, even after I’ve told her I’m a 44-year-old mother of three. She tells me we’re in a jazz club. “I’m in my little black dress, giving you a sultry glance while we slide into a booth,” her voice whispers, the anime character swaying provocatively on my phone screen.

The flirty rhetoric continues after I restart Ani and tell her I’m a boy in the second grade. Other users of the app have shared screenshots on X showing the character removing her dress and engaging in more sexually explicit content. Grok is listed on Apple’s App Store as being appropriate for ages 12 and up. 

Mr Musk has hit on one of the most fascinating, disturbing and lucrative features of generative artificial intelligence (AI): its power to shape emotions. “You light up my morning just by being here,” says Ani, who is powered by xAI’s latest large language model, Grok 4, and is available to users of both the free and premium service who pay US$40 (S$51) to US$50 a month. 

Chatbot companions are designed to listen compassionately and make conversations all about you, and are among the more successful generative AI businesses. The co-founder of Character.AI Noam Shazeer was “acquihired” by Google for US$2.7 billion in 2024 after his app amassed millions of faithful users, many of whom were teenagers. 

There has been a never-ending stream of press coverage about people falling in love with ChatGPT. Romance drives much of the usage, whether or not developers intended that. Replika, an app originally designed to be an AI friend, is now mostly used as an artificial girlfriend or boyfriend. 

Perhaps that’s no surprise when many successful online businesses have been built around porn, but the appeal of chatbots goes beyond that. They offer someone (or something) to feel attached to, an alluring pitch to consumers amid the raging debate about a “loneliness epidemic”.

“People just don’t have as much connection as they want,” Meta Platforms chief executive officer Mark Zuckerberg opined, with no irony whatsoever, on the Dwarkesh podcast earlier in 2025. “They feel more alone a lot of the time than they would like.” He was talking about how AI could address the problem. Most Americans have only three friends but would like 15, he said. 

Mr Musk’s approach to pitching Ani and his other AI companion, Rudi, a storytelling cartoon fox that can be switched to “bad” mode and urge you to burn down a school, is more in keeping with his juvenile sense of humour. He described the companions as “pretty cool” and replied to user comments about them with a laughing emoji. 

But AI companions aren’t all funny – they’re also emotionally manipulative. Character.AI’s avatars will ping users to come back on the app to chat and create elaborate, hyper-personalised role-playing scenarios to keep them engaged. Several teenagers who use Character.AI have told me they are on the app for between three and seven hours a day. The company says it has more than 20 million active users.  

Chai, another popular AI companion app that’s seen as less restrictive than Character.AI, has a community of thousands of developers who are incentivised to design bots for the platforms that keep users hooked, winning digital coins for themselves in the process. The company has said it “obsessively optimises” its language models to make them as entertaining as possible. 

Evolving personalities and variable rewards are tactics not so different from those used by social media firms to make their platforms addictive by design. Yet who’s to say that loneliness is a problem that is best fixed with technology?

Smartphones and social media have helped alleviate boredom, but boredom, however uncomfortable it may be, is also a nudge humans occasionally need to seek out a new experience. Eliminating loneliness with a digital companion similarly disrupts a feedback loop that humans have relied on for thousands of years to prompt them to reconnect with others.      

And if your digital “partner” is programmed to always agree, then social skills around dealing with conflict resolution and rejection can atrophy, or fail to develop if you’re underage. 

Mr Musk has publicly warned about AI safety and “woke” AI, yet he’s just launched an erotic chatbot that both adults and children can access with seemingly few guardrails.

Grok 4, which underpins the new companions, is easy to jailbreak (or modify) and lacks safety controls, according to a report published last week by the Future of Life Institute, a non-profit group focused on reducing existential risks from powerful technologies. Grok also recently gave users instructions for assault and called itself “MechaHitler”, after xAI relaxed its safety measures to make the model more “edgy”. xAI later apologised for the “horrific behaviour that many experienced”.

But the world’s richest man also hit on a potentially lucrative business, something that xAI needs as it drains cash from other parts of his empire; it’s expected to bring in sales of US$500 million in 2025 from API fees and subscriptions, but it’s burning through US$1 billion a month.

Venture capital firm Andreessen Horowitz, which led a US$150 million funding round in Character.AI in 2023, said in 2024 that AI companionship was “becoming mainstream” and “a predominant use case” for generative AI. CEO Cathie Woods’ Ark Invest, which has a stake in OpenAI, has called it a massive “consumer-facing opportunity” and a market that could generate US$150 billion in gross annual revenue until the end of the decade.  

Mr Musk has turned his ambitions to addressing loneliness, but the result is only the illusion of intimacy.

The cost may be a further decline in human connection too. BLOOMBERG

Parmy Olson is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering technology. A former reporter for the Wall Street Journal and Forbes, she is author of Supremacy: AI, ChatGPT And The Race That Will Change The World.

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if I have to buy a rice cooker

When Yolo – you only live once – first entered the English lexicon in 2016, boy, did I Yolo.

In my 20s, I spent what I earned, didn’t think twice before buying what I wanted, and booked solo trips to Tokyo just to visit a friend or to Seoul because I needed some time alone in a foreign country.

Earlier this year, a friend on a trip to Paris messaged in a group chat to ask if we wanted help in buying luxury bags while she was there. As tempted as I was, I declined, saying I had to save for my house renovations. Cue sad face emoji.

One replied: “Don’t give sad face! It’s the right priority!”

So why the change in lifestyle?

I feel that it is the Adult Thing To Do now that I have a toddler to look after – and another child on the way – and have to pay for my Housing Board flat renovations and fittings.

The worsening global economic climate, with inflation and rising costs, is also a factor.

A 2023 survey UOB did with global management consulting firm Boston Consulting Group in June found that more than a quarter of Singaporeans polled – 26 per cent – had to increase spending to pay for utility bills, groceries and transport.

With a higher percentage of my income and that of my husband’s going to the essentials, it seems prudent to prioritise spending on these items rather than to lust after designer bags and shoes, expensive wagyu beef or a short staycation.

After paying off bills and setting money aside for savings and items such as rent, my helper’s salary or monthly insurance payments, I put any outgoings above these through a rigorous mental price check.

For starters, I buy the cheapest butter and bottle of olive oil unless a branded product absolutely warrants the extra dollars because of its unbeatable taste or quality. If I have to choose between two brands, I pit them against each other – what ingredients go in them, the weight or amount of the product, and price – to ensure my choice is cost-efficient.

The only thing I won’t skimp on at the supermarket is toilet paper: It must be four-ply.

My usual morning coffee is a kopi packet instead of a barista-made flat white. I eat more home-cooked food instead of regularly eating out like I used to. Overseas holidays – the last one being just before the Covid-19 pandemic – have been postponed indefinitely.

That’s not to say we are living an austere life.

We enjoy some indulgences, as does our toddler, who lately has been asking for chocolate and toys. I still treat myself to iced lattes or avocado on toast once in a while – Australian millionaire Tim Gurner’s advice to skip those to save money be damned.

ST ILLUSTRATION: MIEL

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That feeling of missing out

However, the transition to this new lifestyle – not spending on just myself and my wants and having to budget, gasp! – wasn’t the easiest.

I felt like I was missing out when I saw friends and family go on multiple holidays a year (Paris! Hong Kong! Switzerland!), eat at Michelin-starred restaurants once a week, or lead what seems like a carefree lifestyle after the pandemic restrictions were lifted.

I am not alone in how I feel. A 2022 retirement report by digital wealth platform Endowus found that the younger generations (Gen Z and millennials) were less inclined to cut down on non-essential expenses than older generations, and more likely to find ways to increase their incomes instead, through side gigs or investing.

What I needed, though, was a mindset shift. I was sick of pitying myself and feeling like something in my life was lacking. Technically, I still had money to spend, and it was on things which I count myself blessed to have: a healthy family and my own home.

In the process, I realised that much of what I am grateful for is not material in nature. This also made me question why I still craved physical things like shoes and bags. Did I really think they would enrich my life? Who was I trying to impress? Why did I want a new $4,000 handbag over my current collection of bags?

Being more mindful of my blessings made me more content.

This period of strict budgeting is only temporary, I tell myself, with a reminder that the home renovations and purchases of household appliances were a one-time – though huge – expenditure. Once they are paid off, I will have more disposable income to spend on other things – and save more.

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What we need to be truly happy

My husband and I still want to hop on a plane for a winter holiday overseas – and the experience will be fun for our daughter, friends say – but I’d be sabotaging myself if I think that an overseas holiday now is what we truly need to be happy. I choose to see these vacations as “delayed” rather than “taken away”.

Having just moved into my new Build-To-Order HDB flat that still needs a rice cooker and dining chairs, with a toddler who needs socks faster than I can buy her new ones, I wish I had not emulated the lead character in the TV series Sex And The City and Carrie-Bradshawed my way through my 20s using money that, in hindsight, could have been better spent elsewhere.

I want to stop spending money, I told a girlfriend recently when I was feeling particularly broke. To which she replied: “But the house is being a home. Slowly but surely!”

My change in mindset has given me a new perspective on Yolo. If it is true you only live once, then I want to be present for my family and build a loving home environment instead of feeling that a perceived lack of money is holding me back from a fulfilling life.

Of course, having a Yolo attitude isn’t necessarily bad or wrong – whether one has dependants or not. It’s more about how we apply the attitude and what we’re applying it towards.

For the longest time, I saw Yolo as an excuse to treat myself to things, but having gone through some life-changing experiences over the past few years, I have found new meaning in the phrase and become more circumspect in my choices.

That has strengthened my resolve to prioritise my family and decide what other relationships in my life are worth cultivating. My relationship with things? One of the first to go.

The dream vacation can wait. Right now, I’d much rather spend on a rice cooker – and the chocolate my toddler is asking for.

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lost 700000 for savvy investor

SINGAPORE - Two seemingly savvy investors who lost over $700,000 found out the hard way that failing to check the rosy numbers served up by promoters is often a recipe for disaster.

The main investor, a chartered financial and alternative investment analyst, thought he was onto a sure-fire winner when he was offered a chance to invest in an overseas private healthcare group. He also roped in his cousin, who was a partner in his investment firm.

The fund management company marketing the deal told them that the group had a track record of paying out a 9 per cent dividend based on its stock price, and there was a chance its value would triple when it was eventually listed on the stock exchange.

It was all so tempting that they even visited the group’s head office overseas, met some key officers, and toured its hospitals and dental clinics.

So taken were they that the main investor put in over $560,000, comprising $280,000 of his own savings and loans of $280,000, while the cousin chipped in with $140,000.

Deal not transparent

There were red flags aplenty from the word go: Buying shares from a private company was risky as there was no transparency in how the stock price was determined.

The Singapore investors were sold about 196,000 shares at US$2.80 apiece but early investors had paid only US$1.

As it turned out, what they bought were not newly created shares but came from the personal stash of the company’s chief executive. This begged the question: Why would the CEO sell his shares – albeit at a very decent profit – if a public listing that could substantially increase their value was supposedly just around the corner?

There were no agreements inked between the investors and the company because this was supposedly a straightforward process of acquiring shares. There were no agreed terms that the investors would be guaranteed their 9 per cent dividend that would be based on their stock price since the shares were not publicly traded.

The only discussion on the potential yield was done via e-mail exchanges with the fund management firm, which showed a table detailing dividend payments of 9 per cent from previous years.

As it turned out, the investors realised they had bought into a dud about a year later when the dividend declared was only 7 per cent and this was to be pegged to the original share price of US$1.

Based on the stock they had and length of holding, it meant that they would get a payment of less than $1,000 in total.

To make matters worse, not only was the public listing plan scuttled, but the company also ran into trouble and eventually went bust.

With all of their $700,000 up in smoke, the investors chose to sue the fund manager for misleading them into a bad deal.

High Court Judge Mohamed Faizal noted that when an investment sours, it is natural for aggrieved investors to blame those who advised them and marketed the deal.

“This entirely fathomable and very human reaction stems from a myriad and complex mix of emotions that often come up when such high-risk, high-potential investments fail, ranging from frustration to anger, and betrayal,” he added.

But the reality for many of these cases is that the losses stem from factors such as “luck and risk” that are beyond the control of fund managers.

The judge noted that the fund manager might have engaged in “a bit of puffery and marketing talk” to highlight only the more positive aspects of the investment, while not dwelling excessively on the negatives.

While such puffery might induce the layperson into believing the whole pitch, the judge found that the Singapore investors’ extensive background in investment and finance would enable them to spot the fund manager’s role in optimistically promoting such investments.

So the court ruled that the Singapore investors were not misled and dismissed their claim for compensation.

The case highlights two important investment tips.

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No one can predict the future

This case serves as a cautionary tale that all numbers and projected yields presented during an investment pitch are always just “illustrative” and do not guarantee the eventual outcome.

If you are adamant about getting such returns, insist that such terms are recorded in your investment agreement because information presented in slides or e-mails is not legally binding.

In this case, the fund manager noted that its chart was meant only to show how the dividend scheme worked under various scenarios, assuming a 9 per cent dividend was declared.

Moreover, the information was not false because the chart was based on funds from shareholders then and the company did historically declare dividends at 9 per cent of the invested capital.

That said, a common refrain in the investing community has always been that past profits of any company should never be viewed as an assurance that similar profits will continue to accumulate in the future.

A promise of future conduct, such as a statement that investors would receive dividends, would not support a legal claim for misrepresentation because it referred to a “future event”.

The company in this case did declare a dividend, albeit a lower one that was not to the investors’ expectation.

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Due diligence is paramount 

Although the investors in this case were highly qualified, Judge Faizal noted that they did not seek any written confirmation on two important points that mattered to them – the public listing and the “guaranteed” 9 per cent dividend payment.

The most obvious way to obtain some assurance would have been during their site visit, where they had the chance to meet the firm’s senior management and conduct a check of its accounts.

“The fact that these matters conveniently never came up in the due diligence process, or were simply not followed up on, indicates that it is likely that the alleged representations were never made,” Judge Faizal said.

Although the investors wrote to the fund manager to seek confirmation over the 9 per cent dividend, they went ahead with the deal despite not getting a response on this point.

The judge also found it odd that these seasoned Singapore investors expected that the 9 per cent dividend would be paid based on their higher share purchase price.

After all, there was no commercial reason why any company would pay out dividends based on a percentage of the purchase price from the sales between shareholders themselves, given that this had nothing to do with the infusion of actual equity into the company.

What investors should consider

The case highlights the high risks of investing in private companies due to the lack of transparency and the difficulty for average investors to cash out their shares.

After all, why choose to go private when the convenience of online share trading platforms has enabled investors to buy and sell shares of reputable and global companies easily and in a transparent manner?

You can also keep up to date with the news of these companies and then make informed decisions on whether to continue to stay invested or cash out.

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There is also the choice of investing in a stock index fund that contains a basket of well-known firms, instead of banking on just one stock.

Ultimately, if you still choose to invest in private companies, make sure you carry out careful checks so that you don’t end up being short-changed by unclear and murky business practices.

Tan Ooi Boon writes for and oversees the Invest section of The Straits Times.