Op-ed: Notes From A Hyper-Efficient Nation

Our proudest claim to glory may not be Changi Airport, or even our remarkable ability to queue patiently for nearly anything from concert tickets to Hello Kitty plushies. It may well be Singapore-style efficiency that’s admired by foreigners from near and far.

We get things done fast, quietly, and without fuss. If something can be done in three steps, we reduce it to two and, if possible, to one. Better still, we try to do it without involving another human being at all. That’s how good we are.

Efficiency, we are convinced, is the engine of survival for this small red dot of an island.

Technology is the solution to almost every problem. It is therefore unsurprising that Prime Minister Lawrence Wong, in his National Day Rally 2025 speech, identified innovation and technology as an “overarching priority” for raising productivity and improving lives.

Our lives have indeed improved, just not in all the ways we expected.

At food outlets, QR codes have replaced conversation. You scan, you order, you wait. There is no eye contact, no friendly reminder from the shop assistant that the mug without a spoon is the Kopi O Kosong – Malay for coffee without sugar and milk.

The food and drinks may be piping hot, but there is no human warmth.

Even lifts have turned icy. Once, people muttered greetings and exchanged brief smiles. Now everyone stares intently at their phones, united in an unspoken agreement not to acknowledge one another’s existence.

Press the wrong floor button, however, and delay the journey by 10 seconds, and you will be rewarded with unmistakably dirty looks.

At supermarkets, the self-checkout machine stands proudly, promising to “enhance customer experience” by speeding up the payment process.

It takes its job very seriously, beeping reproachfully if you are slightly slow in scanning your purchases. Make a mistake, and it goes into full nagging mode by beeping repeatedly.

A staff member then appears. She does not look at you. Her attention is fixed on the screen. You are merely an obstacle between the problem and its efficient resolution.

Online shopping is much the same. Encounter a problem, and you are directed to a chatbot. It’s always polite, relentlessly cheerful, and frequently useless. You type: “I want to speak to a human.” The bot replies: “I’m happy to help!” and proceeds to do nothing of the sort.

Even apologies have been streamlined. “We regret the inconvenience caused,” declares the notice. No one knows exactly who regrets it, but rest assured, the regret has been efficiently issued.

Oh yes, we are now officially a Smart Nation. Our traffic lights think, our apps remember, and our phones pay our bills. We book medical appointments online and even consult doctors via video without leaving home.

We are quicker to tap than to talk, faster to swipe than to smile, and more comfortable with screens than with eye contact.

Having replaced humans with automated processes, we then grow frustrated when these systems fail to understand nuance, context, or common sense.

Suddenly, we want someone to listen, to explain, to care. We want patience, flexibility, and understanding. But all these have been engineered out in the pursuit of speed and convenience.

Perhaps efficiency is like salt. A pinch enhances flavour; too much, and everything tastes astringent.

In our rush to optimise, we may have forgotten that not everything can be measured in seconds saved or steps eliminated. Important things such as kindness, conversation, courtesy take time.

A truly smart nation may not be the one that moves the fastest, but the one that remembers when it is worth slowing down.