SINGAPORE: Neatly stashed away in an HDB flat somewhere in the western part of Singapore are a folded black robe, newspaper cuttings, tiles with splashes of red dye, and strands of pubic hair.

These are all that remains of Josef Ng’s Brother Cane, one of the most controversial performances in Singapore’s contemporary art history.

“Yes, everything is still at home. They’re all stored in a corner of the storage area in my mum’s room,” said Ng, with a smile.

It’s a Saturday evening at Changi Airport Terminal 3, and the 40-something Singaporean is having a quick bite before flying off to Shanghai, where he now lives.

It has been more than a decade since his last interview with the Singapore media. And for the first time, he is willing to speak at length about a certain pubic hair-snipping performance he did back in 1994.

Today, the remnants from Brother Cane are safely stored away. But back then, the performance itself proved to be a proverbial Pandora’s Box moment for Ng and his fellow artists. The media-fuelled uproar that followed led to the withdrawal of public funding for performance art and forum theatre for 10 years.

And for Ng himself, the consequences were major. He was one of two artists specifically banned from future performances, and it signalled the end of his artistic career – at least in Singapore.

“I was confused, upset, worried and stunned,” Ng said, recalling the mixed emotions during the days that followed the controversy.

“I was wondering, ‘What was I doing on the front page (of a tabloid)?’”

PUB(L)IC PROTEST ON NEW YEAR’S DAY

During the wee hours of Jan 1, 1994, Ng had collaborated with another artist, the late Juliana Yasin, for a performance to welcome the New Year.

It was part of the 12-hour closing event of the Artists General Assembly (AGA), a week-long arts festival held at the defunct art group 5^th Passage’s gallery space at Parkway Parade.

“She was in a wheelchair and I was doing actions, and there was interaction with audiences,” he recalled. “It had something to do with carrying each other and the art form we were practising. There was a very good energy from the very first performance that whole night.”

But 1994 had something else in store for Ng. Two days later, on Jan 3, he would wake up to a front page report about another performance he had done at that same event.

Local tabloid The New Paper had published a photo of him with his back to the audience. His black swimming trunks were lowered, and he was seemingly cutting his pubic hair.

The headline screamed: “Pub(l)ic Protest”.

It was a short segment of Brother Cane, a complex and visceral performance piece protesting the media coverage of an anti-gay operation in Tanjong Rhu. It also alluded to the caning sentence that was meted out.

In hindsight, the presence of a reporter and photographer at Ng’s performance was only the latest ingredient to what was already shaping up to be the perfect storm.

Prior to that night, the AGA event had already encountered road bumps – two videos had been censored for homosexual and political content.

Performance artists were also upping the ante. The year before, another artist, Vincent Leow, drank his own urine at another event.

Meanwhile, Brother Cane itself wasn’t a spontaneous, isolated performance by Ng. He had already tackled the same themes with an earlier performance titled Don’t Go Swimming, It’s Not Safe.

Having previously worked with theatre groups such as The Necessary Stage (TNS) in the late 1980s, Ng was keen on bringing up socially relevant issues.

“I think it was a very sticky issue that I had brought up,” he explained. “It was the whole theatre training of looking into things that were being swept under the carpet.”

But Brother Cane was more than that. As a relative performance art newbie back then, he was also exploring ways of developing his craft.

The infamous pubic hair-snipping moment was a small part of an elaborate, ritual-meets-theatre performance that also included whacking pieces of red dye and tofu set on tiles with a rotan.

“During a large part of it, I was on the verge of physical dance, which wasn’t reported in the paper,” he added. “It wasn’t just about content and context, it was also theatrics and performativity.”

A VERY CONFUSING PERIOD

Things swiftly spiralled out of control. The Brother Cane incident (or at least the short part that was reported) snowballed into a heated public debate about art and obscenity.

It would carry on for months, even dragging Ng’s early mentors at TNS, director Alvin Tan and playwright Haresh Sharma, into the fray.

By the time the smoke had cleared, things had changed for Ng.

He was charged for committing an obscene act in public and eventually fined S$1,000. Together with friend and fellow performance artist Shannon Tham – who had vomited as part of his own protest performance that night – Ng was banned from performing in public again.

The National Arts Council also announced a no-funding rule for unscripted art performances, affecting proponents of performance art and forum theatre.

For Ng, who was in his early 20s at that time, it was a “very confusing period”.

“Before I could even think about it, I was called in for questioning. Then the whole NAC statement came in. It was like a ladder to climb – but before I could even take my first step, more and more steps came. It was kind of like a tsunami,” he said.

Ng became the de facto poster boy for the controversy, but he was also concerned about everyone else who was affected, including his friends and peers from art collectives 5^th Passage and The Artists Village, who had organised the event and also included fellow performance artists.

At the same time, he added he was lucky to have parents who understood and supported him throughout his ordeal. He also remembered how some members of the arts community voiced their support and pushed the debate in the media.

“I wasn’t mature enough to respond back then, so I was in awe at the support and work I witnessed from those involved in the case,” he said.

But the experience also led Ng to think twice about dealing with Singapore media.

“To be honest, it was an awakening on the meaning of tabloid journalism for me,” he shared.

“In general, I’m not afraid to talk to the media, but here in Singapore, I’m cautious. There have been so many miscommunications about my performance and the after-effects, what I did and what I’ve been doing ever since.”

LIFE POST-BROTHER CANE

A day before meeting at Changi Airport, Ng had invited me over to his office at Pearl Lam Galleries’ (PLG) Dempsey Hill space, one of two branches it has in Singapore.

Inside his neat little office loomed a huge painting. Made by Chinese artist Su Xiaobai, the oil and lacquer, black and white abstract work is called Solemn Dignity 3.

It looks like it’s about to burst at the seams and is an imposing presence in the small space.

“I love it. It’s so Black Metal, right?” he quipped. “He’s a very good artist, born in 1949, a very good period to be born in China, when things were changing, followed by ideologies and revolutions.”

For Ng, things have also changed. Since December 2015, he has been PLG’s managing director for Asia, a role that seems light years away from what he did back in 1994.

These days, the former performance artist is a curator-gallerist – and a very busy one at that.

To describe Ng’s work schedule as hectic is an understatement, as he constantly travels back and forth between Hong Kong, Shanghai and Singapore, where PLG branches are located.

Before he flew off to Shanghai, he had already spent a week in Singapore, meeting clients and collectors, and checking out other arts events. Prior to that, he was busy flying PLG’s flag at Hong Kong’s chaotic Art Basel fair. “I only had my first glass of champagne on the fourth day!” he joked.

When he reached Shanghai, he would have just enough time to recharge before even more trips to Beijing, Shenzhen, and Hong Kong. There are also scheduled trips to Los Angeles, New York and Singapore, before he goes on a “grand tour” of Europe’s mega arts events: Art Basel, Documenta and Venice Biennale.

“A third of my schedule revolves around airports, customs and airplanes,” he quipped.

For people who only know of Ng from his “Mr Pubic Hair Artist” days, it’s a clue into what he has been doing post-Brother Cane.

After the controversy surrounding his performance, Ng kept in touch with fellow artists but stayed away from the art scene.

“There was such a loud reverberation in the aftermath and I personally didn’t want to deal with it,” he admitted. “I stepped out of art completely, just to assess whether it was something I really wanted to do my whole life.”

Barring a short stint in London, where he took up curatorial studies, Ng shifted gears in the mid-1990s. Instead of making art, he helped out with the family business and travelled a lot.

But it wasn’t long until he was back in the art world. By the start of the new millennium, Ng had reinvented himself in a new country – Thailand.

TO BANGKOK AND CHINA

While he was unable to publicly perform in Singapore, Ng did some performance art in Bangkok, where he was invited to a few art exhibitions and seminars.

One of these took place in 1998, where he alluded to what had happened in Singapore in a piece called The Death Of Me.

It involved Ng carrying his own tombstone at a park.  “It was like, ‘I’m dead’. I was doing a lot of action with it and it was tough – tombstones are heavy!” he recalled, amused at the memory.  

In 1999, he went on a backpacking trip in Thailand, after which things began to fall into place. He decided to stay there permanently – and shifted from being a performance artist to being an art writer, curator and gallerist.

He wrote for publications such as the Bangkok Post, and would later become heavily involved in the Thai art scene, culminating in his position as artistic director of Tang Contemporary Art Gallery in the mid-2000s.

“I felt I belonged in the Thai art community and they saw me as part of them, not ‘Josef the Singapore artist’ who moved there.”

By 2007, he would also be travelling to and from Beijing, championing some of Thailand’s biggest artists and making his mark as a known curator and gallerist in Asia.

In Singapore, however, he was still mostly known for Brother Cane. It didn’t help that he kept a low profile throughout the 2000s. Apart from a short-lived art consultancy business, he wasn’t plugged into the local arts scene.

The turning point came a few years ago, when gallerist Pearl Lam invited him to join her team. 

With two gallery branches in Singapore, it was a chance to reconnect with an art scene he left decades earlier – but it also meant he would have to confront certain ghosts from the past.

At the beginning of a round of interviews with Ng, there was a palpable sense of hesitation talking about Brother Cane. The past was the past and his world now is different. 

“It wasn’t easy coming back. There was much hesitation,” he admitted.

But in the end, he said yes. “I can truly say I’ve got one foot back in Singapore and I can now really see what I can do with the art community here,” he said, adding that he plans to showcase more local and regional artists at PLG – and that involves bringing in performance art, too.

TIME HEALS EVERYTHING

As Ng returns to the local arts scene, it’s clear how much has changed since 1994.

For one, Brother Cane is now regarded a very significant moment in the story of Singapore art, something its creator is aware of.

“It has become part of our history,” Ng said, before wondering how things would have played out had there been social media back then. “Imagine the explosion of commentary!”

In a way, that scenario actually played out a few years ago, when artist Loo Zihan enacted Brother Cane in 2012, resulting in a minor deja vu moment online, with debates surrounding performance art resurfacing.

As for his peers and mentors whose practice was once frowned upon, many are now lauded.

Some have even been awarded the Cultural Medallion, the highest honour that can be given to a Singaporean artist. This month, one of Ng’s fellow performance artists from the AGA event, Zai Kuning, is representing the country at the Venice Biennale.

As for performance art itself, the no-funding rule was officially lifted in 2004.

Ironically, the changing landscape has seemed to result in Ng’s specific situation slipping through the cracks.

He pointed out that there has been no official announcement rescinding the specific ban on all performances by him or Tham, which had been announced along with funding proscription in 1994.

But a spokesperson from the Info-communications Media Development Authority of Singapore (IMDA), which is now the body that handles licenses for arts and entertainment events, told Channel NewsAsia it has not banned either artist, and assesses works based on content.

The authority had not yet been formed during the Brother Cane incident.

Despite the vagueness of his particular situation, Ng said: “I think time heals and mends everything.”

But, he also added: “We were all deeply affected. There were practitioners who were bitter about the effect and left the scene completely. It wasn’t a nice feeling to have something taken away as a practitioner.”

But the incident also spurred many of his peers to persevere even more during the decade that followed.

“It made people more motivated and stronger,” he said. “If you want to look at the bigger picture, histories are not made because everything goes according to script, you know?”

The lines of communication between artists and authorities have also opened up, compared to before.

“There is definitely a lot more dialogue now. Back then, they just took everything. Now there’s a mediation,” he said. “It has been up and down, but you can see there’s an effort.”

That said, Ng pointed out that more could still be done.

Citing the gay issues that led to Brother Cane, Ng said: “With what’s happening to Pink Dot, I must say the issues haven’t really died, just fashioned out differently.”

It’s also been a case of “same same but different” when it comes to recent debates about art involving the recent gold foil staircase and “Sticker Lady” incidents.

“More than 20 years later, we’re still talking about what art is and what it’s not,” he said.

If there’s one thing that he sees as lacking in the local arts scene today, it’s the absence of “grit”.

“There’s no grit anymore. That has been sacrificed. If you want to do graffiti, there are now places for you to do graffiti,” he said. “It boils back to the idea of letting things grow organically. I’ve always believed in being daring and being bold.”

Does that entail giving performance art another go? Perhaps the return of Brother Cane?

“Right now, I have no desire to do my own performance. But I still believe performance art is a very potent force,” he said. “Brother Cane is part of me.”

SINGAPORE: They get taken for beggars sometimes as they poke through the trash, by people who exclaim “eiyuh!” in disgust. Impatient drivers honk as the duo push their laden trolleys along the road.

“My brother cannot hear the cars horn,” said the man who asked to be known as ‘Eddie’. “When I tell them he cannot speak or hear, most say sorry. Others curse and say, ‘****, lah, I don’t care’.”

The 63-year-old has long since learned to swallow his pride and let such comments slide, over 20 years of doing what he must to look after his deaf-mute brother, who is 68 and diabetic.

This includes scrounging for odd jobs, in between forays to pick and sell cardboard around their Serangoon one-room rental flat, in any weather.

“We’ve collected in the rain. I got sick. It’s okay when (my brother) falls sick; I cannot fall sick, because I am basically his ears and head, so he’s in trouble,” said Eddie, who pushes a trolley stacked with cardboard higher than his 1.5-metre frame.

A good day is when the brothers collectively make about S$20. That’s with a haul of nearly 200kg, depending on price fluctuations. Said Eddie: “After a long time, our bones start to ache. It really hurts.”

SAVINGS WIPED OUT

Life had looked a lot different, once.

Back then, Singapore, like Eddie, was young and the economy booming (“if you wanted jobs, there was one for you,” as he put it). Earning steady money as a factory worker, construction labourer, driver and printer, he built up a family and a comfortable nest egg over the years.

Then cancer struck, twice – taking from him both his wife and his mother within the space of a year, and wiping out his life savings and most of his Medisave, he said.

Eddie was left to care full-time for his deaf-mute brother, which meant he could no longer hold a steady job. His brother’s life as a cardboard-picker became his own. “No choice. Back then there weren’t all these concessions for the elderly, or Pioneer Generation card; we had only ourselves to rely on.”

As Singapore ages, the number of seniors who work into their silver years is growing too – especially among the lower-income group, for whom retirement is an alien concept.

In recent years they have become more visible as food court cleaners, servers, security guards, tissue-sellers and scrap collectors. Given Singapore’s plethora of help schemes for the needy – such as the Pioneer Generation Package (PGP) and Silver Support Scheme for the old – why do the elderly poor feel the need to work for long hours and often low pay?

Do the jobs that the elderly poor do, as well as society’s safety nets, offer them adequate sense of security and quality of life in their old age?

RELATIVE POVERTY RISING AMONG THE WORKING ELDERLY

In a 2015 paper on elderly poverty in Singapore written for the Tsao Foundation, Assistant Professor Ng Kok Hoe of the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy made one surprising observation – while the poverty rate among elderly persons not working had fallen over the years, that for elderly persons in the workforce appeared to have actually increased dramatically.

The poverty rate among the working elderly jumped from 13 per cent in 1995, to 28 per cent in 2005 –  to 41 per cent in 2011.

“This should be a strong reminder that work cannot be relied upon as the only, or even the primary, response to income insecurity in old age,” Dr Ng wrote.

“In labour markets where older workers are likely to end up in low-paying and undesirable jobs, work may decrease their quality of life without raising their standard of living.”

According to Manpower Ministry figures, in 2016 about 23 per cent of persons over 65 in the formal workforce were earning less than S$1,000 a month. That’s less than the 36 per cent in 2013, and 57 per cent in 2003, indicating that earnings for elderly workers have been rising.

But inflation and wages in the rest of society have also risen. And Dr Ng’s calculation draws the comparison between the elderly and the general population. It uses 40 per cent of the median population work income as a “convenient poverty line”, and compares that to elderly individuals’ incomes (which, besides work, could include sources such as children and state assistance).

Overall, Dr Ng has estimated that 6 in 10 elderly people in Singapore in 2011 were poor by that measurement.

He acknowledges that what is considered poor “is debatable”, and notes that a project commissioned by the Tsao Foundation is looking into how much elderly households actually need for a decent standard of living in Singapore. (Singapore has no official statistics when it comes to elderly poverty, or poverty for that matter.)

WHY WORK?

“In Singapore, no money how to live?”, is what Mr Ong Hock Soon says if asked why he is working long hours as a hawker’s assistant at the age of 69.

But in the same breath, he’ll tell you that he has turned down offers of social assistance, and would rather be self-reliant and “work until cannot move”.  That mentality of independence is something that crops up repeatedly among the working elderly.

Ms Nurasyikin Amir once thought like most people – that seniors should stop going around collecting heavy loads of cardboard. “Like, rest at home, you’re old, retired already,” said the volunteer with the Happy People Helping People Foundation, which assists cardboard collectors like Eddie.

“But what we came to realise is that when they collect boxes, they feel more empowered; they are earning their own money, even though it’s not much, maybe S$2, up to S$10 a day. Who are we to stop them, right?” she said.

Some don’t want to be a burden on their children. Like food-court cleaner Wong Yeow Kee, 85, who works a 3pm to 11pm shift,

I have children, but I like to smoke and drink, so I work to support my habit and enjoy life. I don’t want to ask for their money.

Even when he’d chalked up hefty arrears, Mr Ng Teak Boon, 85, never thought about asking agencies for help. Estranged from his five children, he has been selling ice cream for 20 years from a pushcart, living on roughly S$950 a month from earnings and Silver Support payments.

“I will sell ice cream until I die,” he said. “It’s better to go outside. If you stay at home and watch TV, you will fall sick.”

WATCH: When the lights went out for Mr Ng (5:55)

Indeed, there are those receiving financial assistance who still do the occasional odd job to “find meaning in life”, said Mr Ng Koon Sing, head of the Ang Mo Kio Family Service Centre (AMKFSC) Community Services.

But yet others do it out of “insecurity” and fear that “the money will run out”, he also noted.

Many would have worked at low-paying jobs most of their lives, with modest or hardly any savings which illness and vices like gambling can quickly wipe out.

FALLEN THROUGH THE CRACKS

And there are those like Eddie, who seem to fall through the cracks.

These days his brother gets Public Assistance of S$500 a month and the PGP, so they need not worry about the cost of treatment for his high blood pressure and diabetes.

But Eddie himself has no such benefits. He is working, but not consistently enough to qualify for the Workfare wage supplement. He can’t access his CPF funds until he hits 65. And the fact that he has a son makes qualifying for certain social assistance tough.

His son, who works as a salesman, is able to give him “S$100 here and there” but his income is inconstant, Eddie said.

Dr Ng calls this “a classic case of how there are various gaps (in the system) that I think we can do better at patching”.

The range of job opportunities that are available to people in this economy; how the schemes step in, where the cracks open up… If we don’t identify those gaps accurately and in a timely way, then you will have cases like Eddie’s.

(Note: Since being alerted to Mr Ng’s and Eddie’s cases, the Ministry of Social and Family Development says its Social Service Offices have reached out to them.)

THE CATCH-22 OF LOW-WAGE WORK

Those kinds of limited job opportunities for an elderly person with little education is what concerns observers.

The older they get, those who previously held blue-collar jobs would find themselves even lower down the workforce rung, noted Dr John Donaldson, who has written on poverty in Singapore.

“One could have been a welder in their younger years, but today, they have to downgrade and become a cleaner,” said the Associate Professor of Political Science at the Singapore Management University.

Mr Ong, the hawker’s assistant, had a good gig going in construction for 35 years – a job he had held since leaving school after Secondary 2. Though tough work, the skills he honed paid off. “It was good money,” he said.

But in the 1990s, he said, the influx of foreign workers who were willing to work longer hours for less pay made the industry untenable. So he quit.

“There was less work to be had. We could not compete,” said Mr Ong, admitting that he’d also gambled away whatever money he had made, and was estranged from his family.

Starting over as a food stall assistant, he soon found that getting a position that paid adequately was tough. Jobless at one stage, he resorted to free food handouts.

Eventually, the Community Development Council helped place him in a job that now pays S$1,000 a month – enough, he says, to live on.

WATCH: Why Mr Ong wants to say ‘sorry’ to his children (6:00)

But wheels have been in motion to bolster the earnings of older workers. The Government’s roll-out of the Progressive Wage Model has scaled up incomes in the cleaning, landscape and security sectors –where low-wage older folks tend to gravitate.

Mr Liew Sue Weng, 67, had been working since the age of 13 in jobs like construction and shipyards. He picked up landscaping at the Employment and Employability Institute and now draws S$1,300 a month, working a five-day week as a gardener.

The irony? He says he’s been asking his boss to lower his pay – because he’s afraid he might get a reduced subsidy on his S$50-a-month rental flat.

Then there is the Workfare supplement, paid by the State to top up the wages of eligible low-income older workers.

The hitch? Those doing informal work like Eddie, who don’t work for a full month, don’t benefit. And manual jobs carry the element of uncertainty, often depending on health, noted Dr Ng: “I may have enough for tomorrow, but I have no way to plan for next year and the next.”

Take Madam Lee Yuit Mei, 67, who has osteoporosis. She used to earn S$800-S$1,000 as a full-time cleaner, but after breaking her wrist in a fall in 2010, she switched to working part-time.

She now makes just S$350 a month working three-hour days, four times a week. But with savings squirreled away over the years, she can meet her living expenses, she says.

TOO MANY SETS OF HOOPS?

For those less lucky and in need of temporary financial aid, there is the ComCare Short to Medium Term Assistance scheme. Those aged 55 and over made up about 35 per cent of applicants in 2015 – up from 29 per cent in 2012.

Indeed, the problem in Singapore is not the lack of schemes to help the elderly poor – as, say, compared to other countries in the region featured earlier in this series (read the full series here.) 

Said Mr Simon-Peter Lum, assistant manager at AMKFSC Community Services: “We’d be hard-pressed to find seniors who are the abject poor, compared to other countries.”

For instance, those on Public Assistance may not get a lot of cash upfront, which has often been noted by critics – but, Mr Lum  pointed out, they get many other subsidies (such as for medical treatment) and fee waivers (such as rental). 

The problem, rather, is that there are too many targetted help schemes – with varying criteria and limiting conditions attached, observers say. This creates two types of problems.

One: Confusion and lack of understanding, which might explain why some elderly poor would rather just carry on working than attempt to seek support. Said Dr Ng:

Researchers don’t understand the schemes fully, civil servants don’t often understand all the schemes available, so how would those people know where to get the help?

He continued: “If I am collecting cardboard, am I going to spend time figuring out how the schemes work, and then test out each one to see if I qualify; or am I going to work so that I can secure tomorrow’s expenses? I am going to work!”

Two: Having to jump through hoops to meet criteria, means that some will fall through the cracks.

Take the requirement that applicants don’t have children who can support them. Said Ms Nurasyikin: “Just because they have kids, it doesn’t mean that they are taken care of…  But (applicants) don’t get the assistance just because the database shows that they have kids.”

The further danger, said Dr Ng, is that such rigorous means-testing would “discourage others who might actually qualify if they tried”.

Ms Wong Yock Leng, a senior social worker with Tsao Foundation, said: “When you ask for ComCare assistance, they will check for everything… That’s why a lot of people don’t apply anymore after that. It’s so daunting, the whole process.”

THE FUTURE ELDERLY POOR: NOT WHO WE THINK

But the future face of Singapore’s elderly poor may not be today’s low-wage worker that social safety nets typically serve.

Said Ms Wong: “The one-room flat, low-income group, they have a lot of support.

“But it’s the three- or four-room flat, the middle-income people, who will bring their problems into their old age. And we have a lot of clients like this – asset rich and cash poor.”

She said the “real urban poverty” is this group which are “neither here nor there”. They may earn S$4,000 or S$5,000, but taking care of two elderly parents can drain their cash fast. “At the end of the day you won’t have much left for yourself.”

Then there is the growing number of childless Singaporeans. It is estimated that by 2030, there will be only 2.1 working-age citizens for each one aged 65 and above, compared to around 5.4 currently.

On top of that, the growing gig economy means that incomes will be less stable, while the decline of industries based on manual skills disadvantages the low-skilled worker, said Dr Ng. He added: “Technology has thrown a huge spanner into the works. Now whole industries, like taxi drivers, can disappear just like that, and no government has a solution for it.”

What does this double-whammy of population and job trends mean?

Traditionally, you have three sources of income for retirement. You have the state that can provide for you; your family; or your younger self – your savings and so on.

But if work is going to be unstable and uncertain, if families are becoming smaller, then what else?

“Even in a country that’s so conscious about social spending, the Government has no choice but to look into public support schemes – so your Silver Support and your Workfare,” said Dr Ng, who also threw in the possibility of exploring a universal basic income.

SMU’s Dr Donaldson remains positive about Singapore’s ability to adapt, noting the great improvement over a short time in a country on the frontline of an ageing challenge.

He arrived in Singapore in 2005, and has co-authored several research papers and findings on poverty and the elderly.

“It’s now 2017, so if you think about change over time in terms of plugging these gaps, it is a completely different game. They – not just the Government, but society and families – are much more aware, much more focused on plugging those gaps and innovating,” he said.

NEXT: In Singapore, social isolation may be the greater danger for the elderly poor.

This is part of a CNA Insider series exploring the issues of elderly poverty in Vietnam, South Korea, Singapore and Myanmar. Watch and read the entire series here.

In a few months’ time, the Singapore F1 night race will be upon us and the Government has to decide whether it wishes to extend the current contract for another five years.

The Singapore Grand Prix (GP) has always had its naysayers, who question its financial pay-offs and point to negative externalities for the general public inconvenienced by the three-day event and its importation of an elite lifestyle. 

Critics point out that the 2016 ticket sales was the worst in nine years, with an average of 73,000 spectators per day compared to 87,000 in 2015 and 100,000 for the inaugural night race in 2008. In 2016, the Marina Bay street circuit attracted 219,000 spectators, down from the 260,912 in 2015. Hotels, restaurant operators and retailers are concerned that the F1 night race is losing its lustre and ability to generate revenue. 

Hosting the F1 race is indeed an expensive affair and the F1 has priced itself out of the European heartlands, which arguably do not need the F1 to promote tourism. Yet, among cities that do host the F1, their economies benefit from hundreds of thousands of visitors.

Using the 2012 F1 in Austin, Texas as a case study, Smith Travel Research reported that over a five-day period, hotels there took in US$32 million (or S$45 million). Hotel occupancy averaged 97.8 per cent and guests were paying on average US$300.44 per night in room rates compared to US$111.40 on non-race days. The food and beverage sector also received a boost.

In another study, this time published in the Asia Pacific Journal of Tourism Research, a group of economists measured the impact of the Shanghai F1. It found that non-local residents and international attendees contributed significantly more to total spending than local attendees. Yet international attendees totalled less than 6 per cent of all attendees.

Local sectors in Shanghai also benefited from the F1, including transport, accommodation and entertainment. The study indicated that indirect tax arising from the Shanghai F1 was substantial.

In terms of the costs for Singapore to host the event, the Government bears 60 per cent of the total $150 million, with the rest borne by Singapore GP.

In terms of revenue, Singapore clocks in about $150 million in increased tourism receipts for each year’s race, on top of the typical tourism spending that Singapore receives on a non-race weekend. The exception was 2009 during the Global Financial Crisis. International attendees make up about 40 per cent of Singapore F1 spectators and contribute significant tourist spending during this period.

While hotel room rates have come down from levels seen in the F1 night race’s first few years, hoteliers nonetheless have to pay an F1 tax to the Government of 20 per cent of revenue for non-trackside hotels and 30 per cent for trackside ones. 

From 2008 to 2015, the Singapore F1 attracted about $560 million in total increased tourism receipts.

MANY REASONS TO EXTEND F1 BEYOND 2017

Should the Singapore Grand Prix be extended beyond 2017? The short answer is yes. 

First, the F1 is a global platform to advertise the Singapore brand to the international community. It is also a “hook” for other international conferences, such as the Russia-Singapore Business Forum, Fix Protocol’s Annual Singapore Conference, Singapore Global Dialogue and the Singapore Summit which are held over the same period. Singapore Airlines, the main local sponsor, has used the event to profile itself and Singapore on the world stage.

Second, it enhances Singapore’s business opportunities and linkages. In a 2012 study by the Boston Consulting Group (BCG) commissioned by the Government to analyse the costs and benefits of the F1 race, BCG surveyed individuals in the top 20 per cent income bracket from selected markets including China, Russia, Brazil, Britain and Spain. The study found that 30 to 40 per cent of these spectators had an improved perception and awareness of Singapore compared to non-spectators. Additionally, 10 per cent of spectators surveyed were more likely to travel to Singapore, including those not from our traditional tourism markets but have large F1 fan bases, like Brazil and Germany.

The study concluded that Singapore would reap “net economic benefit” of over $1 billion over 10 years of hosting the F1 and an additional $1 billion in increased tourism and investments arising from the F1 race’s presence.

The study also took into account operating costs, loss of retail sales around the circuit, costs of traffic congestion and tourists that stayed away because of the F1.

In a separate survey, BCG found that 70 to 90 per cent of business owners and senior management of foreign mid-sized companies had improved perceptions of Singapore because of F1. Among them, five to 10 per cent were keen to invest and conduct business in Singapore.

This may be the case because sponsor clients and partners are flown in for networking events during F1’s race weekend. Minister for Trade and Industry (Industry) S Iswaran had mentioned meeting several CEOs who visited during the F1 with specific value propositions for Singapore, either in terms of establishing an Asian headquarter or trying new business ideas here. AirAsia CEO Tony Fernandes has said before that he had inked a substantial amount of deals during networking sessions organised in the F1 period.

Third, approximately 80 per cent of the spending from the F1 is recycled into our local economy. Local companies are involved in circuit set-up, ticketing, and security, on top of the usual F&B, transport, and tourism sectors. The F1, as a showcase for motor engineering, could also be used to create linkages with industries in Singapore including precision manufacturing, design and product development.

Fourth, in a region rich in exotic, cultural, historical and natural offerings for tourists, Singapore needs to develop and maintain its edge however it can. Hosting and sustaining the F1 on an annual basis plays to our strengths and is a feat not easily replicated by others. True, Singapore hosts other sporting events such as the Rugby Sevens, Women’s Tennis Association and Golfing tournaments, but these cannot equal the profile and benefits afforded by F1.

Fifth, the recent decrease in ticket sales could be partly attributed to the anaemic global economy and spending, which have shown some signs of recovery as reported by the IMF and the World Economic Forum. F1 itself remains a popular sport – while its overall TV viewership has decreased from 600 million in 2008 to 360 million in 2015, revenues are growing. In 2013, F1’s revenues from venue fees, broadcasting, sponsorship and other sources amounted to US$1.63 billion and this figure increased to a reported estimate of US$1.83 billion in 2016. As Malaysia bows out of the F1 circuit after 2017, we could see more visitors from the region and beyond.

Finally, there is truth to observations that the F1 is largely the province of the elites, but with grandstand tickets starting at $128, it is not beyond the reach of many Singaporeans who are avid fans or casual spectators. There are also public outreach measures to various groups, including students.

The F1 is but one out of the many more “down-to-earth” food, cultural, and entertainment offerings that makes for an exciting and vibrant city life. It is a showcase of our technical and administrative capabilities to creatively maximise our land use and transform our landscape and nightlife. 

At the end of the day, the Singapore GP is one important piece among many that Singapore has, to make its moves on the chessboard of fierce global competition for financial services, business, tourism, and cosmopolitan human capital.

Dr Faizal Yahya is a senior research fellow at the Institute of Policy Studies, Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy, National University of Singapore.