GE2025: Cool down, consider, and cut through the campaign fog

Who is standing in your constituency? That was the question I overheard in a conversation between adults. Sheepish laughter followed the answer: “I only know the minister...”

A reasonable state of cluelessness at the onset of the hustings – especially in an election campaign that saw strategic shifts and a record number of fresh faces. By now, the hope is for greater familiarity – not just with the names on the posters, but with what each candidate and party has put on the table.

By the end of May 1, the curtain will fall on more than a week of fervent campaigning, with voters across Singapore treated to the full spectacle of democracy in action, after a decade.

Walkabouts, rallies, fiery speeches and impassioned appeals delivered under floodlights, through downpour or in the sweltering heat. Party flags fluttered and horns blared as candidates took to the stages to exhort, cajole and – at least in one instance – even plead for enough votes to retain their deposits.

It was politics delivered at breakneck speed – a blur of seriousness laced with pantomime.

The rhetoric grew sharper as the finish line approached, with barbs turning personal and the back-and-forths taking on a more combative edge. The terms

“negative politics” and “negative attacks”

entered the fray.

As the campaign reaches its noisy crescendo, Cooling-off Day on May 2 offers the electorate a chance to do what we might be doing less of in the heat of campaigning: to think. Not feel, not react, not cheer or jeer – but consider more deeply, what would make a strong and effective government.

Who are the people we not only want, but need – to steer Singapore through an increasingly turbulent world, and to make the best decisions in our long-term interest?

The campaign fog

Political campaigns generate heat and it’s not inherently bad. Politics is, after all, about persuasion. But there comes a point when the energy can descend to distortion – when clarity is drowned out by volume and allegations.

A quote that’s often attributed to Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw comes to mind: “The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.”

Rally speeches are often pitched to the upper registers of emotion because, as every campaigner probably hopes, it drives turnout and leaves their messages etched in the minds of voters.

Call it campaign fog: a haze of blame, allegations and questions answered with questions, all condensed into an atmosphere too thick for genuine deliberation.

Then there is the online dimension where the political environment is optimised for impulsiveness. Social media acts like an efficient fog machine. In theory, platforms like TikTok and Instagram should allow for wider engagement and greater transparency. But they also facilitate an exercise in virality.

It is precisely because voters are trying to stay informed that they become overwhelmed.

Short clips can be quick sources of information that get good engagement. But they also tend to bypass the rational brain and tap directly into tribal instincts and emotional reflex. Anger, fear, indignation – these are the emotions that drive shares and clicks.

In the heat of campaigning, we are often nudged towards snap judgments, not studied ones. A policy position is judged not on merit, but on the cadence of its delivery. Candidates are evaluated less for what they propose than for how well they “own” the competition.

It doesn’t help that they have to discern between fake accounts and content that’s meant to distort perception. The Straits Times reported on April 25 that the authorities are

investigating fake social media accounts targeting political parties.

Cool and considered

On May 2, we have the chance to ask the questions that matter in our individual decisions.

A momentary shift from the public spectacle to private evaluation: Who do we want representing us? What matters most for the country?

A considered approach to these questions goes beyond the energy of rallies and the charm of walkabouts. It calls for examining candidates’ and parties’ track records, weighing the policy proposals laid out in party manifestos – and perhaps even making the time to hear a full speech, not just a viral snippet.

Democracy should not be reduced to a contest of slogans but rather be defined as an exercise in judgment which requires its time and space. Some things, like voting, are too important to be rushed. The ballot is a way of answering not just what we want, but what we are willing to entrust to others.

The Brexit referendum of June 2016 is a cautionary tale. On the morning after Britain voted to leave the European Union, searches for “What is the EU?”  and “What happens if we leave the EU?” in the UK spiked on Google. Voters, it seemed, were clarifying the basics only after making the most consequential decision in a generation. Citizens must be more careful than that.

In our case, some voters might have made up their minds before the first poster was taped to a lamp post. Others will arrive at the ballot box on May 3 still weighing their options. There are voters who may have greater impact on the overall outcome while others may think it won’t make much of a difference. 

Wherever one falls on that spectrum, cooling off offers the chance to think. In politics, that quiet pause is a rare but necessary moment for clarity.

It matters how we use it.