getting vers correct

In the next few decades, a growing number of HDB flats will edge towards the end of their 99-year leases. Lease decay will soon test not only Singapore’s housing model but also its social compact.

For most of Singapore’s history, urban renewal has been a selective, top-down exercise. The Selective En bloc Redevelopment Scheme (Sers) allowed the state to acquire old flats, compensate owners, and move them into new homes with fresh leases.

Sers covered fewer than 5 per cent of HDB flats and it was driven top-down rather than by residents. That approach isn’t suitable for a renewal effort that could touch virtually every estate in the country.

Most Singaporeans live in Housing Board flats, many built during the construction boom of the 1970s to 1990s. With more than 1.25 million flats approaching the end of their leases, the problem is not technical but existential. It touches the very idea of home, and with it the foundations of Singapore’s social stability.

The announcement of the Voluntary Early Redevelopment Scheme (Vers) represents a break from the past. Instead of compulsion, it rests on consent. When a supermajority of residents in ageing blocks agree, the precinct can be sold back to HDB for redevelopment.

But the real promise of Vers and its success depend on whether it becomes a genuine exercise in collective choice – a process that empowers communities to shape not just their replacement flats but also the future of the neighbourhoods they call home.

That has to be carefully managed and made central to this exercise as a smooth passage isn’t guaranteed.

Overcoming crucial challenges

Implementing Vers will not be without challenges. Achieving the necessary supermajority for each buyback will require careful negotiation and consensus building among residents and other stakeholders.  

Experience of acrimonious private property collective sales tells us it may not be at all easy. There have been examples of contentious collective sales exercises, like Pine Grove’s third attempt at an enbloc sale in 2017, and a number of other cases, such as Horizon Towers with its multiple attempts over the years that failed to strike a deal due to misalignment among the parties involved.

A complex Vers scenario could involve some residents wishing to cash out and move while others may wish to age in place, cherishing the familiarity and community bonds they have built. Some might even stick to a me-first mindset, and argue over what constitutes the “right” compensation.

In such situations, HDB, the willing buyer, is a public housing agency that will need to offer what can be defended as a fair and equitable price. It will also require enough willing sellers to cross the requisite majority threshold. Residents will differ on compensation, timing and what constitutes “reasonable” rehousing or replacement flats.

Resolving these differences through what is accepted as a just and equitable process will be critical.

How might we bridge these differences? Chiefly, by engaging residents meaningfully in a purposefully deliberative and participatory way. This could mean creating structured forums where differing viewpoints, such as whether to cash out or age in place, or what counts as fair compensation, are discussed openly, and where common ground is built by agreeing on shared principles even if individual preferences diverge.

That process must involve residents and other stakeholders from the start as it would allow us to better understand what they value in public housing. It isn’t just about the flats but also the shared spaces, and how these are a core part of our social infrastructure.

The process should also involve documenting and honouring each estate’s history, ensuring that renewal does not entail erasing shared memories and identity.

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Getting this going will first require a national level consensus to be built up. Public consultation is expected to begin before Vers is launched in the 2030s. It should be a deliberative process that establishes some underlying principles that would guide the fair and equitable evaluation of the flats that undergo Vers.

This would help us get to a stage where current flat owners are willing sellers matched with willing buyers who are essentially future generations of HDB flat owners, represented by the state.

Then, surely there should also be engagement at the district, estate and precinct levels to involve every community in this co-creation process.  

Community bonds and social networks are not accidental by-products of proximity; they are the glue that holds our society together. Preserving and even strengthening these bonds during redevelopment must be a core objective of how Vers is rolled out. 

Managing expectations

It would be naïve to think that Vers will be a smooth or universally welcomed solution. The financial costs will be significant, and HDB cannot buy back every ageing flat at generous valuations.

Some estates may be redeveloped earlier than others, raising concerns about fairness. Even with extensive consultation, consensus may not be achieved in every precinct – leaving some residents disappointed or divided.

These realities must be acknowledged upfront, so that expectations are managed and the scheme is not oversold.

Ultimately, Vers will surely be as much about the process as the outcome. If the process is designed and implemented well, it could become a case study in how a nation renews itself – not through compulsion by the simple effect of lease decay or by market forces, but through consensus and collaboration on something that matters so fundamentally to us.

In doing so, it would reaffirm the foundational principle behind Singapore’s public housing: that our estates are not just assets, but also homes and communities; not just units, but also the locus of shared lives.

Christopher Gee is deputy director (research) and senior research fellow at the Institute of Policy Studies, National University of Singapore. 

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punish the Chinese consumer

In mid-September, upmarket outdoor apparel brand Arc’teryx found itself at the centre of a public relations firestorm when it set off multi-coloured fireworks in the foothills of the Himalayas, sparking a furious environmental backlash that compelled the company to quickly issue an apology.

The spectacular high-altitude stunt was meant to pay tribute to nature and was a collaboration with pyrotechnics artist Cai Guo-Qiang, but it unleashed widespread outrage instead over its potential ecological damage to Tibet’s fragile ecosystem and prompted the Chinese authorities to swiftly launch an investigation.

The controversial fireworks display by Chinese pyrotechnics artist Cai Guo-Qiang and outdoor apparel Arc’teryx in Tibet. PHOTO: SCREENGRAB FROM BONDWITH_OFFICIAL/INSTAGRAM

Around the same time, Chinese restaurant chain Xibei also faced significant blowback over its use of frozen and pre-cooked ingredients after celebrity entrepreneur Luo Yonghao criticised the company on social media, describing the food as “expensive” and “disgusting”.

The controversy snowballed into a broader debate about food authenticity and transparency in Chinese restaurants, ultimately pushing Xibei to issue a public apology.

These two incidents, although unrelated, are the latest examples of how far Chinese consumer behaviour has evolved – from being passive recipients and admirers of global brands to becoming a formidable force, capable of bringing multinational corporations and home-grown businesses to their knees.

This redistribution of power in the world’s second-largest economy has come on the back of a rising, more discerning middle class, ubiquitous social media connectivity, and hyper-competition for the consumer dollar.

Demanding respect

The growing power and influence of Chinese consumers have bred a sense of entitlement that extends beyond quality concerns.

Consumers have demonstrated they will punish brands not just for poor products or services, but for perceived slights to national dignity, cultural insensitivity or failure to align with their values.

And in the past decade, global brands, especially, have found themselves navigating an increasingly sensitive space where one wrong move could get you cancelled and lose, for many, the most lucrative market in the world.

In 2018, Dolce & Gabbana famously suffered the wrath of Chinese consumers after its promotional videos showing a Chinese model struggling to eat Italian food with chopsticks was called out for being racist.

Major Chinese e-commerce platforms pulled the brand, celebrities ditched it, and consumers filmed themselves burning and destroying their D&G products.

To make matters worse, co-founder Stefano Gabbana was caught insulting China in leaked Instagram chats, although he claimed his account had been hacked.

Sales plummeted and the company’s founders were forced to release a video apology, but the Italian fashion house was still haunted by the debacle three years later, when Hong Kong singer-actress Karen Mok angered Chinese netizens for wearing a Dolce & Gabbana outfit in her music video.

China already accounts for about a quarter of the global luxury market, according to 2024 research by Tencent Marketing Insight and Boston Consulting Group (BCG).

By 2030, Bain & Company projects that Chinese consumers will represent 35 per cent to 40 per cent of global luxury spending. By then, middle-class and affluent Chinese are also expected to account for 40 per cent of the country’s population, says BCG. That’s 560 million people and that’s the sort of buying power no international brand can afford to ignore.

Yet, similar fates have befallen other global giants who have run afoul of Chinese nationalistic sensitivities.

Swedish fast-fashion brand H&M faced widespread boycotts in 2021 after expressing concerns about forced labour in Xinjiang to produce cotton, with the company’s products disappearing from Chinese e-commerce platforms and physical stores shuttered.

Nike and Adidas have received similar treatment for saying they will not use Xinjiang cotton. 

The message was clear: Challenge China’s narrative and face exile from the world’s largest consumer market.

Closer to home, Japanese and South Korean businesses have found themselves in the cross hairs when geopolitical grievances spill over: Japanese restaurants were attacked and Honda and Toyota car dealerships burned down at the height of the Diaoyutai/Senkaku Islands dispute in 2012.

Lotte Group was among the worst-hit South Korean companies when it became a main target for providing land to build a controversial US defence missile system.

Beijing’s anger over Seoul’s decision to deploy the US Terminal High Altitude Area Defence anti-missile system triggered “fire safety inspections” and boycotts of hundreds of Lotte hypermarkets. With its Chinese operations haemorrhaging money, Lotte finally decided to withdraw from China in 2018, writing off billions in investments.

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This consumer militancy – oftentimes sanctioned and even fuelled by official channels – reflects a broader psychology of the Chinese middle class: having achieved prosperity, they now demand respect.

And today’s consumers see their economic clout as a tool for national dignity, just as the authorities see it as a geopolitical weapon.

The result is that the Chinese consumer has evolved from passive buyer to active enforcer, setting de facto standards of behaviour for corporations.

At its worst, consumer entitlement in China has descended into bullying tactics, with businesses threatened with bad reviews and food delivery riders abused over minor delays.

With razor-thin margins for error, companies terrified of losing market share or access capitulate quickly.

As Chinese consumers embrace guochao – the “national trend” favouring home-grown labels – foreign brands have been compelled to localise their products, aligning with a market that increasingly prizes its own cultural heritage.

Positive enforcement

Yet, this consumer power isn’t entirely destructive. China’s middle-class consumers have raised standards in food safety, corporate accountability and environmental protection.

The rise of Chinese social media influencers and commentators has created new accountability mechanisms. When Luo Yonghao criticised Xibei’s practices, he wasn’t just expressing personal displeasure, but channelling broader consumer frustrations about restaurants charging premium prices for reheated industrial food masquerading as fresh, quality fare.

Food safety has long been a sore point, with horrific scandals involving tainted milk, gutter oil and fake meat shaking public trust over the years.

Consumer pressure has also driven innovation in sustainability, labour practices, and product safety across industries. Companies invest in corporate social responsibility in part because discerning Chinese consumers are now increasingly shopping based on their values, and businesses tout their green credentials to appease a more climate-conscious public.

And in the digital economy, consumer watchdogs on social media have exposed scams, fraudulent advertising and exploitative practices.

Companies that once operated in opacity now find themselves forced into transparency.

Such accountability through market mechanisms has emerged as one of the few spaces where ordinary Chinese citizens can exercise genuine political power. And that might help to explain their assertiveness.

Their power cuts both ways. It can be weaponised in jingoistic outrage or harnessed to push companies to do better. Arc’teryx has stumbled through its own tone-deaf misstep, and Chinese consumers have reminded it where the line is drawn.

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Tan Dawn Wei is a senior columnist at The Straits Times. She was the paper’s China bureau chief based in Beijing from 2018 to 2025.

change

How long does it take to change a life?

0.06 of a second? 

Which is the margin by which Frenchman Jimmy Gressier wins the 10,000m after a storming finish.

Or 0.03 of a second?

Which is what happens in the men’s marathon, where after two-plus hours of running two men hit the tape at the same time. So the winner is decided by a photo finish.

Or two hours, 27 minutes and 23 seconds?

Which is the marathon finishing time achieved by an unheralded young woman from Uruguay, a timing so profound that it leaves a young man from Flagstaff, Arizona in tears on a bus in Tokyo.

Only sport does this every day. Only sport can in a single moment rewrite the trajectory of a career, emotionally drain a coach, and turn an athlete from anonymous competitor to international headline.

The runner from Uruguay, a country without a single world athletics championship medal, is Julia Paternain. The coach from Flagstaff is Jack Polerecky, 29, who sets a series of goals with her before the race.

“Our ‘C’ goal was top half of the field,” he tells The Straits Times from Tokyo. “Our ‘B’ goal was top 20. Our ‘A’ goal was top eight. Top three was not even in our conversation.”

And then on Sept 14, Paternain wins bronze and it’s such a stunning moment that she asks an official if this is indeed the finish line. If, in fact, she has really come third. If, dear god, she has somehow achieved something beyond even her imagination.

“I was terrified that wasn’t the finish,” Paternain says. “I still thought maybe there was another 400 metres to go. I could not believe it.”

Bronze medallist Uruguay's athlete Julia Paternain celebrates on the podium for the women's marathon final during the World Athletics Championships in Tokyo on Sept 14. PHOTO: AFP

All day Polerecky, who started working with Paternain in 2024, is out on the course, organising bottles for her. Mostly he can’t see her progress and gets updates on his phone from his wife, Dani, who is watching on TV in Arizona, and fellow coach James McKirdy.

She’s 30th, then 10th, then fifth, then third.

“I can’t believe that,” he says. “Holy (he politely doesn’t complete the thought)... she’s going to medal. That was surreal.”

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In practice, he says, Paternain has “the right mix of fearlessness and composure. She’s always willing to push herself to pretty extreme places but does it in a way that’s smart and makes sense”.

This is the complex thrill of distance running in a world that prefers to swoon over sprinters. “The fastest human on the planet” is a sexy, swaggering sobriquet. The gun goes off and they come out of the blocks like a bullet rifling down a barrel. Yet, as Soh Rui Yong, Singapore’s premier long-distance man, laughs over text, “the 100m is a Michael Bay Transformers movie; 10,000m is Inception”.

He’s not wrong, for Inception is a long, thoughtful heist film and these long races are also well-planned robberies of a sort. You steal gold using intelligence and endurance, resilience and nerve, tactics and moxie.

Runners start in a bunch and then stretch out like a multi-sneakered snake, all striding at striking speeds which television can’t translate. Plots are being hatched, mistakes corrected, legs moving like oiled pistons, stoic faces telling no story of the hard work the lungs are doing.

Tension ticks, laps are counted down. Like a book, races have chapters. No one wants to lead, for Soh says “it’s very stressful to have all your competitors tracking your every move, without knowing how they’re looking. When you’re behind you can just relax and follow and time your attack. Hunter versus hunted”.

The “attack” is the concluding act of great theatre. When it comes, no one is certain. If runners had fuel gauges they’d be flickering on empty, yet there’s always a reserve to turn exhausted legs into a sprint. Yearning, ambition, hunger – all these things we prize are found here, in these last miles for the marathoner and these final strides for the 10,000m runner.

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Paternain does not speak Japanese, she can’t understand what spectators might be telling her, of where she stands in the field, so she just ploughs on. She’s 25, from a land of only 3.5 million people which leans towards football, and she’s telling us a valuable story. 

Doesn’t matter the size of the nation. Doesn’t matter if they have no history of running. Doesn’t matter if the field is thick with talent. Doesn’t matter if this is only your second marathon. Doesn’t matter because this is sport, and nothing is promised to anyone, and only if you push hard do doors open to dreams.

It’s this spirit of Paternain which moves Polerecky. In Tokyo he can’t get back to the stadium for the finish and so he watches the end of the marathon on the phone of another coach while in a bus. And he’s “freaking out, cheering and crying”, for what he’s seen before is now something he’s suddenly part of. The miraculous power of sport to alter a life.

okinawa

OKINAWA – It begins like any other trip to Japan: an efficient arrival, a warm “konnichiwa” from airport staff, a quick stop at a high-tech toilet. But step outside and you will notice this is not the Japan of bullet trains and neon lights.

Here in Okinawa, the air is warm and salty. Orchid and hibiscus flowers colour the streets, and the locals – sun-kissed, curly-haired and easygoing – move to rhythms shaped more by the ocean than the clock.

Farther south, past Okinawa’s main island, lie the Yaeyama Islands – a remote island chain closer to Taiwan than Tokyo. With reefs teeming with nearly 400 coral species, and jungles home to exotic birds and elusive wildcats, the isles feel like a secret Japan few have seen.

Low-cost carrier Jetstar Asia runs direct flights from Singapore to Naha, the capital of Okinawa, six times a week. Scoot plans to take over the route after Jetstar Asia ceases operations on July 31, with flights set to launch between October 2025 and March 2026 if they are approved.

From Naha, it is a one-hour domestic flight to the Yaeyama Islands, bringing this once-remote region within reach.

Curious about what some call the Hawaii of Japan, I head there in March to see what these far-flung isles have to offer.

Ishigaki: Gateway to the Yaeyama Islands

Arakawa Falls in north Ishigaki. PHOTO: LAM SHUSHAN

My first stop is Ishigaki – the only Yaeyama island with an airport linked to Japan’s main cities like Tokyo and Osaka, and internationally to Taiwan and Hong Kong. It is also the connecting point for ferry services to the surrounding islands.

In my week-long island-hopping adventure, I discover that Ishigaki, though only 160km in circumference, is much more than a transport hub.

I spend my first two days driving around the island’s scenic north, where coastal roads pass sugarcane fields and turquoise waters, and lead to lookouts such as Hirakubozaki Lighthouse at Ishigaki’s northern tip and Oganzaki Lighthouse at the north-west peninsula.

The real fun, though, is in the unexpected pit stops. From around April to August during harvest season, farmers set up roadside stalls selling freshly cut pineapples, mangoes, papayas and smoothies made with Okinawa’s famous tropical produce.

Shisa statues like these, which can be spotted at the entrance of most buildings and homes in Okinawa, are sold in pottery shops around Ishigaki. PHOTO: LAM SHUSHAN

If you are into crafts, head to Yoneko Yaki Kobo Shisa Farm (str.sg/ukUH) to check out a modern take on Okinawa’s iconic shisa – a mythological creature derived from Chinese guardian lions. Traditionally painted in earthy tones and placed on rooftops or at doorways to ward off evil, these figures get a psychedelic makeover here, with vibrant colours and playful expressions.

Yoneko Yaki Kobo Shisa Farm is where figures of Okinawa’s iconic mythological shisa get a psychedelic makeover. PHOTO: LAM SHUSHAN

North Ishigaki is also dotted with pottery studios, where artisans use local clay and natural dyes to create pieces that echo the island’s landscape.

Shop names are mostly in Japanese, but a Google Maps search for pottery studios will reveal plenty of options such as this one (str.sg/pf6Q). Alternatively, head to retail store Hamauta (str.sg/gWfh) in town for a curated collection of Okinawan pottery.

During lunchtime one day, a similar search leads me to Joo Chiat Cafe (str.sg/jaPa), a home-based business run by a Singaporean man and his Japanese wife. Their menu features Singapore dishes like kaya toast and chicken rice.

Joo Chiat Cafe, run by a Singaporean man and his Japanese wife, is located in a quiet residential area and set in a restored Yaeyama-style house. PHOTO: LAM SHUSHAN

I try the Ishigaki beef rendang and carrot cake. The rendang is slightly sweet and mild in spice, with flavours reminiscent of the filling in a Nonya bak zhang. The housemade carrot cake, with a chewier, mochi-like texture, is generously loaded with chai poh and served with a punchy, shrimp-laced sambal. It might not please every purist, but for under 4,000 yen (S$35) for two mains with drinks, it is a delicious, heartfelt taste of home.

Japan

SINGAPORE – Singaporean couple Sean Gwee and Ashley Hong, both 34, liken the suburb in Japan’s Okayama, where they bought a three-storey house in 2023, to Singapore’s Toa Payoh neighbourhood.

“Like Toa Payoh, we’re around 20 minutes outside of town and have amenities like supermarkets, restaurants and convenience stores nearby,” says Ms Hong, a freelance television producer who grew up in Singapore’s second satellite town.

“It’s also an older suburb and, while it may not be as lively as the main town area, the location is perfect for us.”

Since moving to Japan in September 2023, the couple have had more than 40 friends, acquaintances and strangers stay over – sometimes opening their home to travellers when they are away.

No one, whether he or she stays days or weeks, has to pay a cent. It is a matter of principle for the couple, who want guests to feel welcome and enjoy what Okayama has to offer.

Unlike major cities in Japan such as Tokyo, Osaka and Kyoto, Okayama is an unhurried haven – a place the couple set their hearts on after visiting a friend there in 2018. They got married in 2019 and have a three-year-old daughter, Luna.

Situated in western Japan, Okayama is the capital city of its namesake prefecture and home to more than 710,000 people. It can be reached with a flight to Okayama Momotaro Airport or via a 45-minute ride on the shinkansen high-speed train from Osaka.

Traditionally an agricultural hub, the prefecture produces cash crops such as rice, barley, grapes, peaches and cotton. That legacy endures today, with much of its land still devoted to farming and homes nestled amid nature.

Mr Gwee, an architectural designer, has long dreamed of living – quite specifically – in a forest.

“A lot of it has to do with how I function as an architectural designer and needing more space to do the kind of work I want to do, like building conceptual and experimental projects surrounded by nature,” he says.

Ms Hong adds: “It’s been a long time coming. After all those years of wanting to move, we finally decided to get serious about looking for a house abroad in 2023.”

Mr Sean Gwee and Ms Ashley Hong have been progressively renovating their Okayama house since they bought it in June 2023. PHOTO: ASHLEY HONG

The draw of Okayama

Japan ticked many boxes for the couple. They saw it as a safe and nurturing environment to raise their daughter, and where Mr Gwee would have ample space for his projects.

Beyond that, it was a destination they loved visiting, having been drawn to its food, culture and landscapes. With the favourable exchange rate, settling in Japan became more attainable.

When they started looking at properties in Japan in March 2023, they worked off an estimated budget of $50,000 and a shortlist of 10 homes. They whittled the options down to three before landing on their current place in June 2023.

“Our first thought when we saw the online listing was that it was unlike many other old Japanese houses that typically had timber construction and multiple tatami rooms,” Ms Hong says.

“This place had concrete columns everywhere, so we didn’t need to worry as much about structural issues. We knew at first glance that it would be liveable.”

Mr Sean Gwee and Ms Ashley Hong saw Japan as a safe and nurturing environment to raise their daughter. PHOTO: SAMUEL GOH

Although the freehold property built in the late 1950s stretched their budget to $89,000, they were glad to make the purchase, knowing they would save on renovation costs.

According to Global Property Guide, an online real estate resource, Japan does not impose legal restrictions on foreign ownership. This means foreigners can own freehold land with taxes amounting to around 7.4 to 8.4 per cent of the total transaction cost.

In September 2023, they moved into the 150 sq m house, which sits in the middle of a 2,000 sq m plot of land. Much of what surrounds the house is wilderness in the form of persimmon trees, bayberry shrubs and other coniferous plants – an environment that, in a way, realises Mr Gwee’s dream of living in a forest.

The house came with red carpeted floors, matching dull red curtains, a gilded wrought-iron chandelier, a bar and other dated decor. The couple later found out that it used to be a holiday home for the president of a Japanese company in the 1970s, and was mostly used for entertaining.

Many of the features of the house, like a bar, were made for entertaining guests. PHOTO: ASHLEY HONG

Ms Hong named their new home Isle of Dreams, inspired by two of her favourite movies: American film-maker Wes Anderson’s animation film Isle Of Dogs (2018) and a Japanese documentary called The Kingdom Of Dreams And Madness (2013).

She says: “I definitely romanticised our move, and I wanted to give it a name to mark a new chapter – and a completely different experience – in our lives.”

The property, which featured red carpets and matching curtains, was once the holiday home of the president of a Japanese company. PHOTO: ASHLEY HONG

Hosting the world

Mr Gwee and Ms Hong enjoy hosting. When they bought the house, Ms Hong posted an open invite on Instagram, asking if anyone wanted to visit while they carried out renovations. Many of their friends in Singapore responded – excited to see a different side of Japan – and spent an average of two weeks in Okayama with them.

A friend of the couple and Mr Gwee working on an outdoor gazebo in May 2024. PHOTO: ASHLEY HONG

In lieu of payment, guests then and now help with chores and pitch in for renovation works such as painting and building furniture. The three-storey house can comfortably sleep nine.

“We know sometimes people feel obligated to do something in return because we don’t charge them for stays. While it’s nice if they can help with chores, there’s no real need to,” says Ms Hong.

“Some people reached out to us because they were stressed at work and needed a place to recharge. If they need to take a breather, that’s what our place will provide. We don’t want people to feel guilty about staying for free.”

The loft of the three-storey home can fit four beds. PHOTO: ASHLEY HONG

Ms Hong logs updates about their new life on an Instagram account (@isleofdreams.space) she created in August 2023. It is through the social media platform that a few people they had either not spoken to in years or never met before reached out about possible stays.

The couple say in those situations, they try to meet potential guests first over a virtual or in-person meeting, so they can better explain how the stay might go. It doubles as a screening opportunity, although they have not rejected anyone so far.

“We have to let them know that we have a kid and she has her own rhythm. So, she might wake in the night and we might not be able to accommodate them so much – stuff like that,” says Ms Hong.

For now, the couple shuttle between Japan and Singapore, typically living in their Japan home from October to January and April to July. In between, they return to Singapore and stay in Mr Gwee’s family home. The couple do not own property in Singapore.

Even when they are not at home in Okayama, the house is rarely empty.

The living room has pieces of furniture both purchased and built from scratch. PHOTO: ASHLEY HONG

A Japanese neighbour often drops by to check on the house, sometimes using the living room as a makeshift office. Two friends who have stayed twice now hold keys, giving them access whenever they like.

Asked if they worry about things going missing with such open arrangements, the couple say they trust their guests.

“We don’t really have anything valuable in the house. The thing we care about most is the house itself,” says Mr Gwee.

A work-in-progress

Having lived in Okayama for almost two years, the couple have found their rhythm.

While they have not yet mastered Japanese, they are now able to better recognise common words and phrases at places such as the local supermarket and train station. Still, they rely on Google Translate to understand Japanese writing and conversations 70 per cent of the time.

They have also built a small local community of neighbours and fellow parents from Luna’s pre-school, and with a long-term rental car, they can now navigate their suburb with ease.

In July, they hosted a three-day event at their house in celebration of Tanabata festival, also known as star festival.

The couple held a three-day event at their home in Okayama, Japan, to get to know their community better. PHOTO: ASHLEY HONG

Tanabata is based on a Chinese legend of two star-crossed lovers who reunite on the seventh day of the seventh month each year. Its festivities celebrate reunion, love and hope.

“In our attempt to get to know our community better, we held a mini market-like thing in our house. We had crafts and ceramics activities, and food and drinks,” says Ms Hong.

Friends travelled in from other parts of Japan to help. They included Ms Stacy Tan, a Singaporean who runs an independent textile studio in Tokyo and Singapore, who hosted a small embroidery station during the event. Over the three days, the event drew 81 guests – many of them children, who enjoyed running around in their backyard.

Looking ahead, the couple’s plans remain flexible. With Luna due to start primary school in Singapore in three years, the Okayama house may eventually become a holiday home for family trips during the June and December breaks.

In the meantime, the property is a work-in-progress. They have been installing new windows, repainting walls and, most recently, building a pottery studio on the ground floor and a gazebo in the backyard.

Okayama may not be bustling like other major Japanese cities, but the couple find it perfect for everyday life. PHOTO: SAMUEL GOH

Ms Hong advises travellers that Okayama is not big and showy like major cities with numerous tourist attractions, but is closer to what she describes as “a slice of life”.

She lists waiting for laundry to be done on the steps of their local laundromat with convenience store-bought rice balls in hand, and driving along a bridge in the city at sunset as some of her favourite things to do in the neighbourhood.

For Mr Gwee, simplicity is the whole point. “We knew we wanted to live in Japan and intentionally steered away from touristy locations because we’re not there on holiday,” he says. “We’re living our lives.”

Red Dot Abroad is a series on Singaporeans hosting the world, one stay at a time. For more travel stories, go to str.sg/travel

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Sarah Stanley is a journalist at The Straits Times who covers travel, lifestyle and aviation.

fedex

This week, amid the tariff rumpus, freight forwarding giant FedEx will inaugurate its direct flight from Singapore to the US mainland with a Boeing 777 freighter, the only logistics company so far to offer such a connection.  

The new service strengthens the Republic’s position as a strategic logistics hub and enhances the region’s connectivity on the transpacific trade route. FedEx says shipments from across South-east Asia can now be consolidated in Singapore before making their journey to the US, streamlining international logistics.

For FedEx’s India-born chief executive officer Rajesh Subramaniam, whose spare time work involves chairing the US-China Business Council, it is all a matter of common sense. 

Although the US is FedEx’s principal market, the Asia-Pacific has the largest footprint of any region it operates in. Singapore houses its regional headquarters, and a centre for excellence that works on advanced digital technology, including applied artificial intelligence.

The direct flight is added evidence of the centrality of the Republic in a region he calls the manufacturing base of the world.

“We are (in some ways) a referendum on the global supply chain on a daily basis,” says Mr Subramaniam. “The supply chains are evolving as we speak, and we get it first hand. In South-east Asia, it is Thailand’s Eastern Economic Corridor. There is Indonesia, and Vietnam. All these markets are seeing strong growth. In Singapore, we are seeing much growth in healthcare and semiconductor (shipments).”

Separately, FedEx’s business in India is growing “significantly”. 

And while the European business also is booming, he adds that that is more because the firm has outperformed the competition rather than the market has grown spectacularly. That said, in recent weeks, there has been “a little bit of optimism” about the German economy.

Rather like 3M, whose products are used in everything from cars to electronic equipment, FedEx, United Parcel Service (UPS) and other parcel delivery firms are seen as bellwethers of the global economy.

“We are sitting on the inside of the global supply chain,” says Mr Subramaniam.

FedEx’s physical network, he adds, moves nearly US$2 trillion (S$2.64 trillion) in goods annually and generates vast amounts of data. The firm is transforming this data into insights that power new technology for differentiating its business, digitalising customer supply chains and transforming e-commerce.

“There is a lot going on, and we are very excited.”

Even the latest tariff shifts, he believes, are something the company can handle competently for its customers. FedEx has an experienced team of clearance and compliance experts who help enable shipments across more than 220 countries.

Tools like FedEx Tariff Information Hub help customers stay up to date.

“We remain focused on supporting our customers in adapting to the latest regulatory requirements,” he says. “It is important for customers to have paperwork completed correctly ahead of pick-up so shipments can continue to move seamlessly through our network to their final destinations.”

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While growth in Asia provided FedEx some tailwinds, the digital advances in FedEx are also contributing. That aside, these advances are helping senders and intended recipients gain more visibility on shipments, adding to the comfort levels of everyone involved along the pick-up and delivery chain.

Any movement from one country to another involves classifying the commodity being shipped. The digital twin helps with clearing Customs speedily by auto classifying so-called HS (harmonised system) codes, computing duties and taxes so that consumers understand fully landed cost of goods bought, and ensuring customers have the resources and tools to file paperwork required for imports.

“That is our advantage,” says the chemical engineer from the famed Indian Institute of Technology who went on to do an MBA at the University of Texas, Austin. “Lots of companies can do basic algebra, we do advanced calculus.” 

While FedEx does not give a breakdown of its revenue by region, the CEO points out that Apac is its largest operating region. “We go where manufacturing goes, and most manufacturing is centred in this part of the world. We have a growth business here.”

The stress on digitalisation and trimming the fat all round is showing up in company results.

For the fiscal third quarter that ended on Feb 28, FedEx reported revenue of US$22.2 billion. Both operating income and margins improved over the matching quarter in 2024.

That said, perhaps in anticipation of geopolitical headwinds and a consequent slowdown in growth, FedEx guided for fiscal 2025 revenue to be flat or slightly down year over year. It earlier expected revenue to be “approximately flat”.

“Our revised earnings outlook reflects continued weakness and uncertainty in the US industrial economy, which is constraining demand for our business-to-business services,” chief financial officer John Dietrich said in March.

Such sobering news has clouded the market. FedEx shares are down about 25 per cent since the year began. Its market valuation as at April 11’s close is about US$50 billion.

In another development affecting performance, FedEx and the United States Postal Service, its largest customer, ended their air cargo contract in September 2024 after failing to agree on a fresh contract. Rival UPS picked up that business, but from what I hear from Mr Subramaniam, that may have been a blessing.

For fiscal year 2025, while FedEx expected a US$500 million hit to the bottom line from that separation, it looks now that the impact will be only about US$400 million.

The upside, he says, is improved flexibility for FedEx. Without the postal service contract obligations that required specific daytime flights, FedEx has already been able to significantly reduce daytime flight hours and deploy its air and ground network more efficiently.

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Compared with larger rival UPS which is more than a century old, FedEx is a much younger firm and the 57-year-old Mr Subramaniam is only the second CEO in its history. The company was founded in 1971 by Mr Frederick W. Smith, a former Marine Corps officer, who is credited with creating the overnight delivery business.

Mr Smith, who started FedEx at age 27, is now 80, remains as executive chairman and retains a significant chunk of FedEx shares. His son Richard runs a key division.

Founding families can be extremely possessive about their firms and, in an earlier era, Mr Henry Ford II fired the high-profile Lee Iacocca from Ford Motor Company, for no apparent reason. It has passed into corporate legend that when a bemused Mr Iacocca inquired, Mr Ford told him: “It is my name that is on the building.”

Mr Subramaniam bristles when I ask if he feels cramped being bookended by the Smith father and son. “I won’t use that parallel at all. We are a meritocracy and Fred is a fantastic leader and founder.”

The Trivandrum-born Mr Subramaniam was appointed CEO in 2022 and was groomed for the job by Mr Fred Smith. Starting as an associate junior analyst in 1991, he quickly ascended the ranks, and was given multiple responsibilities, including, fortuitously for him, a seven-year stint in Hong Kong starting in 1996, just as the China manufacturing boom began. 

In 2019, he was named chief operating officer and brought onto the FedEx board the following year.

I ask how it is to be only the second CEO in FedEx’s history, and a direct successor to the founder.

“Taking over from the founder-CEO is an altogether higher level of stress but it has been fantastic,” says Mr Subramaniam, who plays tennis on weekends and sometimes goes online for a game of chess. “But as one great scientist said: I can see far because I am standing on the shoulders of a giant.

“I could understand from very early on what Fred wanted to accomplish, and we were able to put in place strategies to get it done.”

What has been accomplished is unquestionably impressive. FedEx today moves US$2 trillion worth of commerce annually. That is made possible by a vast global network of 5,000 facilities, a fleet of some 700 planes, 200,000 trucks and other on-road vehicles, all served by half a million staff – “teammates” in FedEx parlance. Every day, FedEx picks up and delivers 16 million packages.

The coming era could well be marked by significant turbulence on every front, including geopolitical swells. Mr Subramaniam says he draws much inspiration from his nonagenarian father, a former top police official known for decisiveness and integrity.

The journey so far has provided so many opportunities for personal growth that Mr Subramaniam has never thought of looking elsewhere, and FedEx, which has its headquarters in Memphis, Tennessee, has been his sole employer. 

Most American CEOs of Indian origin are located on the two US coasts but he says he likes being where he is in Memphis, a city in the south, where the living is easy and schools are cheap.

I joke that Tennessee could not be said to have many state icons – perhaps not a lot more than Jack Daniels whiskey and singer Elvis Presley’s Graceland home.

“What you really need to see in Memphis is not Graceland but the FedEx headquarters,” he shoots back. “I guarantee you would not have seen anything quite like it.”

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a new japan

This week, as I sat down for a conversation with Noboru Saito, the 58-year-old chief executive of iconic cassette maker turned smartphone battery producer TDK – and a company veteran of 36 years – I casually asked his aide about his own employment history.

Turns out the younger man had just made a mid-career move to join TDK, having earlier worked with Japanese tyre giant Bridgestone in Indonesia.

The confident, well-spoken aide in question is one of thousands contributing to a key shift in Japan’s corporate landscape.

In 2024, for the first time, Japanese companies hired more people mid-career than through the graduate intake that had brought in staff such as Mr Saito himself. Those switching jobs are gaining from something unfamiliar in Japan’s corporate life – significant and sudden pay jumps.

In a society where change tended to be glacial, the nascent shift in hiring patterns and rewards is a veritable earthquake challenging norms once taken for granted, such as lifetime loyalty to firms and seniority-based progress up the ranks.

Sumitomo Mitsui Banking Corporation, one of Japan’s three mega banks, is reportedly in the middle of a major overhaul of its human resources planning that could abolish the seniority-based system.

Indeed, it could be emblematic of wider changes sweeping Japan that, taken at the flood, could presage a national resurgence – although you probably wouldn’t be able to tell if you went just by the surface news. 

Slowing growth, ageing citizens

Gross domestic product stagnated in the first quarter, and may not do much better when results for the second quarter are announced soon. Industrial production is expected to fall back in July, after having struggled to grow in the previous two months.

Japan’s acclaimed car industry is gasping against competition from Chinese electric vehicle makers.

 A shock drop in demand in May for 40-year bonds suggests investor appetite for long-dated Japanese paper is wearing thin.

On the societal front, this is the year for its demographics to reach a tipping point when the cost of caring for the elderly overwhelms society’s capacity to bear it, a worry that some years ago prompted a Cabinet minister to urge the elderly to “hurry up and die”.

For every three Japanese who die every minute, only 1.3 babies are born. According to some projections, the population could shrink from about 124 million today to 105 million by 2050.

I travelled in interior Japan a few months ago and was startled to see homes abandoned by the dozen.

Not surprising, when you are aware that the population shrinks by more than 2,400 people every day – a seemingly irreversible decline.

Immigrants, investments come knocking

Time then to say, “Sayonara, Japan”?

Not so soon. Broad currents are gathering that, at the very least, could arrest what seems like Japan’s inexorable decline.

There are stirrings at the macroeconomic, corporate and individual levels that raise optimism.

Some of the movements are remarkable, such as Japan’s exit from a long period of deflation. Others have crept up on the nation. For instance, Japan had two million resident foreigners in 2012. At the end of 2024, that number had soared to 3.8 million, according to figures from the Immigration Services Agency.

Counter-intuitively, given China’s bitter memories of Japan’s imperial past, the Chinese are today the top migrants to Japan and numbered more than 873,000 at the end of 2024.

What is more, anecdotal evidence suggests that this number includes hundreds of Chinese millionaires who have moved at least part of their money there and bought homes.

Vietnamese, South Koreans, Filipinos and Nepalese are other significant sources of in-migration.

Aside from ordinary Japanese themselves beginning to show appetite for investing rather than salting cash away in pillows, the wealthier of the migrants are contributing to a surge in wealth managed out of the country.

By some forecasts, funds managed from Japan are expected to nearly double from US$4.9 trillion (S$6.3 trillion) in 2025, to US$9.6 trillion by 2030. (According to the Monetary Authority of Singapore, assets under management in Singapore totalled $5.4 trillion in 2023.)

Why are Chinese moneymen moving to Japan? Many do so because they believe Japan’s close strategic ties to the US offer a sort of cover from Beijing’s long arm that could pressure weaker nations into handing over their assets, or revealing them.

Following Beijing’s crackdown on tech companies, China’s most famous billionaire Jack Ma had made Japan his home for a good part of 2022.

Perhaps the biggest endorsement for Japan came from noted investor Warren Buffett. Starting from 2019, it was revealed just before Mr Buffett retired that he had steadily built up stakes of between 8.53 per cent and 9.82 per cent in five top Japanese trading houses – Itochu, Marubeni, Mitsubishi, Mitsui and Sumitomo.

“We simply looked at their financial records and were amazed at the low prices of their stocks,” Mr Buffett explained to Berkshire Hathaway shareholders in his 2025 letter.

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Others have noticed too. GMO, the investment and asset management firm co-founded by Mr Jeremy Grantham, another legendary value investor, pronounced itself “overweight” on Japanese equities earlier in 2025.

While Berkshire and GMO may be said to be following the money, so to speak, reports suggest that multinational corporations (MNCs) in a wide set of activities are actively planning to move their Asian headquarters to Tokyo from places such as Hong Kong and Shanghai.

While it is no surprise that defence contractors such as BAE Systems or Lockheed Martin may do so given that Japan is poised to significantly up defence spending, a swathe of German and American companies are also said to be in the process.

In 2024, a study by the German Chamber of Commerce and Industry in Japan and KPMG reported that about a fourth of respondents were shifting regional management functions to Japan. Reasons offered centred around Japan’s economic, political and social stability and the assurances of intellectual property protection.

Nightlife in the big cities has improved and this, combined with safety of movement, is a big draw for expats.

Long-time resident and Japan enthusiast Jesper Koll says several American firms seeking to put regional headquarters in the country have been in touch with him for advice. Over the last 18 months, he adds, 1,200 non-Japanese received a work permit on average daily.

“This country has become an immigration superpower, and of course, you know, once you switch towards meritocracy, in the way that you evaluate people, all of a sudden, everything opens up... Trust me, you and I want to be reborn as a 23-year-old Japanese.”

You could call that enthusiasm leaping ahead of reality, but Japan is undeniably doing some things right. Financial institutions are phasing out lending to zombie companies and instead channelling savings into investments and making money on net interest margins.

Companies are borrowing to build new plants and facilities. The young are taking out mortgage loans and the state’s big fears are not so much about finding them employment as about a wage-price spiral caused in part by meeting their aspirations.

And company boards are learning to not brush off activist investors who complain about lazy balance sheets. It all makes for a fresh turning of the earth, and potential renewal.

That’s where Japan is today, and what is catching the eye of investors such as GMO, who in turn are flagging it to clients. Konnichiwa to the new Nippon.

Senior columnist Ravi Velloor is a former associate editor and foreign editor of The Straits Times.

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