Colin Goh and Woo Yen Yen

Singapore is once again wringing its hands over our low fertility rates. This brought to mind an old column I wrote in 2004 about the Romancing Singapore Campaign:

15 February 2004
Can We Really Put The Swing Back Into Singapore?
by Colin Goh in New York

Valentine’s Day may be over but the Romancing Singapore Campaign will last the entire year.

Why not? Keeping it up is crucial to producing babies, which is the main aim of the Campaign. This is evident even from its slogan, the grammatically awkward “Love is the little things” – clearly, the Government wants us to make love in order to produce little things.

I’m ambivalent about the Government’s involvement in the romance sector. Clearly, the security dimensions to our population problem justify their intervention. Besides, our local flower/greeting card/teddy bear industries might benefit from the extra publicity (unless, of course, a GLC enters the market).

However, the Government’s participation can be embarrassing.

When an article on the Romancing Singapore Campaign appeared in last week’s Sunday New York Times, I got ribbed by all my New Yorker friends: about how Singapore was ranked last in a global sex survey by condom manufacturer Durex; about how we don’t want sex more than six times a month; and especially about our government-issued guide to dating – the infamous “When Boy Meets Girl: The Chemistry Guide”.

That the Guide exists is painful enough, without its grammatical errors (“sun, sand and sea is a great equalizer”), redundancies (“many books are judged by their cover at first glance”) and head-scratching statements (“the adage ‘you are what you eat’ cannot be more true – diet, exercise and skincare products are must-have investments for your personal portfolio (pun intended).”). Can anyone tell me where the pun is? I think it’s time to introduce the Romancing Singapore Campaign to the Speak Good English Movement.

Actually, I love the Guide because it’s provided my friends and I many hours of entertainment. By consensus, the best line in the Guide is “Man’s best friend can turn out to be your best bet for a date”. It seems that in Singapore, oral sex is illegal but bestiality is encouraged. (Run, Fifi!)

And that’s the point. There’s something freaky about government involvement in such an intimate area. It’s like your parents hanging outside your honeymoon suite cheering, “jia you, jia you” (Mandarin for ‘add oil’) as you try to get it on. I don’t know about you, but that’s a total turn off.

Which is why, for all the Romancing Singapore Campaign’s good intentions, I’m skeptical that their activities – organizing events for people to meet, discounts on spas and chocolates – will turn anyone on. They’re just too contrived.

Romance is personal, spontaneous, clandestine, intimate. It comprises shared confidences, private utterances, bared vulnerabilities. It’s conducted in shadows, not in fluorescent-lit rooms filled with fluffy bears, plastic hearts, Celine Dion muzak, and especially other people.

Of course, all the Campaign can do is try to start the ball rolling. But really, all its scripted sentimentality doesn’t address the real reasons why we’ve lost that lovin’ feelin’. Like most things Singaporean, we’re doing the ‘little things’ right, but the big things wrong.

Firstly, even if we wanted to, there aren’t many places to have sex in Singapore. Living with your parents? You must time your trysts to avoid being summoned to come and eat dinner or whatever.

Living by yourself? You’re probably working late most days to pay the mortgage, so by the time you’re done, you’re not in the mood. Anyway, who dares have sex when we can’t even walk around naked in our own flats?

Going overseas is expensive (assuming you have leave), doing it in cars and parks means risking being caught, and when even popular lovers’ haunts like Changi Village Road are shut down for national security reasons, what are we supposed to do? Start an account with Hotel 81?

The real problem, however, is that we’re a people under constant surveillance, whether from the authorities, family, work or the expectations of a rigid society.

We’re unromantic because we have little space to be ourselves. It doesn’t help that we must now add romance to the many spheres in which we’re already judged.

It’s very telling that the Guide says “a date is very similar to a job interview.” Thrillsville.

Having more get-to-know-you events is great, but our hyper-competitive work ethic, high property prices, intrusive policies and even our erstwhile family values probably have more to do with why we’re not procreating.

The Government, however, feels as usual that we should accept our society as is, and change our attitude, not the other way round.

Maybe. But if we’re supposed to learn to have sex in the full gaze of society, the Romancing Singapore Campaign is the wrong teacher.

Someone call Annabel Chong!

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