GE2025: A nation of champion grumblers finds its groove in memes 

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Boisterous rallies, candidates glad-handing constituents at markets, MRT stations and bus interchanges, endless door-to-door visits – these are classic hallmarks of election hustings in Singapore, and this year’s polls are no different.

But there is another side to the 2025 campaign.

A parallel universe where politicians are not in control but are definitely centre stage: The unpredictable, wildly entertaining world of memes, viral clips and cheeky online banter.

Over the last few days, I have spent quite a bit of time on the campaign trail, attending rallies and observing exchanges between candidates and voters in walkabouts.

Yet each night, I find myself irresistibly drawn to this other world – the meme ecosystem that lives, for my millennial generation, on Instagram.

For Gen Zs, their version thrives on TikTok. Those of more senior vintage consume this content, spliced mainstream media or rally clips with voiceover or text commentaries, via Facebook and forwarded WhatsApp messages.

Scrolling through my phone in the wee hours of the morning, I find myself guffawing in the darkness. My neighbours must think I have lost it.

But how to explain what is so funny? It truly defies articulation, this peculiar alchemy of Singaporean political humour.

The People’s Power Party (PPP) candidate Samuel Lee’s impromptu career ladder jingle that has now reached nationwide fame. Mr Ravi Philemon shedding his serious Red Dot United leader persona for an unexpected rendition of the K-pop hit Apt.

PSP’s Mr Sumarleki Amjah earnestly demonstrating to The Straits Times reporters how his silat training will aid his political strategy.

And it is not just about opposition candidates – memes ribbing the ruling party slate are abundant too. Take, for instance, memes capturing the collective cringe of NSmen nationwide as they watch recently retired army general and PAP candidate Goh Pei Ming singing the marching tune Purple Light.

Then there is PPP leader Goh Meng Seng. Having staked his pre-election position against the “LGBTQ agenda,” he is now viral for emphatically clarifying he is “not gay” and is “straight.” Errr, okay, thanks.

If not the politicians themselves providing the material, there are content creators like Mr Don Shiau, whose uncanny impression of Prime Minister Lawrence Wong, with his unique, wholesome enunciation, and Leader of the Opposition Pritam Singh, with his baritone, gravelly voice, who will leave you in stitches.

I doubt I could explain all this to a foreigner, why these moments trigger such deep, visceral laughter. Yet, conversations with friends and colleagues confirm I am not alone.

As the hustings inevitably sort us into partisan bubbles, sometimes leaving us seething at opposing arguments – especially as rhetorical swords have sharpened these past days – this meme ecosystem is serving as a curious balm.

It injects levity and a special sense of bonding. You get a sense that, yes, we have different political affiliations, but all of us find what we are watching funny because we are programmed with the Singapore source code to get the inside joke.

Maybe these characters, their palpable lack of charisma and endearing oddities are not so absurd after all. We probably all know an uncle like Mr Philemon whose usually placid demeanour betrays no hint of his hidden vocal talents.

Or we recognise there is a tone-deaf enthusiast with an otaku personality like Mr Lee lurking in all of us.

Or perhaps we have encountered someone like PSP’s Mr Sani Ismail, who serenaded ST viewers with Strangers In The Night – these familiar characters populate our own karaoke circles, which is precisely why they hit so close to home.

Editorial cartoons for the internet age

The legendary satirist Saint Hoax defines a meme as a piece of media repurposed to deliver cultural, social or political expression, mainly through humour – an editorial cartoon for the internet age, as it were.

What this campaign has shown is our collective brilliance at creating them, from anonymous meme makers to established accounts like Yeolo.sg and Rate.my.MP to comedians delving into this new craft.

Maybe there is a touch of “ownself praise ownself” here, but I would go as far as suggesting we are world-class at this.

It is not new, of course. The 2020 “digital-first” pandemic election, where physical rallies were banned, showcased some of this prowess.

Meme makers branded PSP founder Tan Cheng Bock a “hype beast” for, among other things, the revelation that his glasses were a fashion item without actual lenses.

That campaign also introduced Singapore’s political lexicon to such terms as “stan accounts” (social media accounts helmed by obsessive fans of politicians) and “fan cams” – mash-up videos of candidates with background music.

If 2020’s run was the dry rehearsal – finishing fourth in the Premier League, so to speak – this election has elevated our national meme game to world-class status.

The power of levity

Getting the humour right in these election memes isn’t child’s play. Elections are serious business, and nobody wants to trivialise their gravity.

But the deft touch some content creators bring shows remarkable skill worthy of recognition.

Take the incident with Singapore Democratic Party’s

Dr Gigene Wong, who used a racial slur

to describe her fellow Marsiling-Yew Tee GRC candidate Ariffin Sha.

She apologised – twice – but considerable consternation lingered in the local Tamil community that such language could emerge in this day and age.

Enter comedian Rishi Budhrani with a brilliant skit of himself mock-chastising Dr Wong in Hokkien, warning her of dire consequences should she somehow enter Parliament and use such language on the “law minister”.

It was a show of how memes, done right, can masterfully defuse uncomfortable tension with humour, while simultaneously highlighting the absurdity of out-of-bounds behaviour.

More importantly, these memes and humour help us put things into perspective.

Content creators across the Causeway have commented that even amid all the high tensions of our campaign here, Singapore’s relatively clean hustings with our large pool of uncharismatic politicians were “cute.”

In a video lathered thick with irony, Malaysian comic Jason Leong, known for the searing ribbing of his country’s political dysfunction, suggested that watching “too many videos” of Singapore’s “uncharismatic” politicians over the last few days led him to the conclusion that there was a correlation between charisma and corruption.

“It is safe to say that most, if not all, Singaporean politicians are not corrupt, by the same token that a lot of Malaysian politicians are very charismatic.”

Indeed, may it long be the case that awkward politicians and the oddities they do and say continue to provide material for meme makers. Better than the alternative – charismatic rogues whose smooth talk empties both promises and public coffers.

Champion grumblers

But this begs the question: How did we get so good at this? Is there something in the water here that makes our political ribbing so on point?

I can imagine the usual foreign commentary trying to make sense of this: Singapore, tightly controlled with carefully managed media, offers people no proper outlets, so memes become the release valve.

We strain our eyes, rolling them. A more perceptive read is that this steady state of irreverence comes naturally to us.

Outsiders miss it because they think people who have kept the same ruling party in power for so long must be docile, maybe even simpletons.

They can’t see what we see – that Singaporeans have always been gnawing at something.

A certain innate malcontent lives in our national DNA and has always found an outlet, even as we remain pragmatic beyond measure.

The late architect of this national experiment, Mr Lee Kuan Yew, once quite surgically diagnosed it: “You know the Singaporean. He is a hard-working, industrious, rugged individual. Or we would not have made the grade. But let us also recognise that he is a champion grumbler.”

Blend those ingredients – our innate grumbling talent – with our youth’s digital fluency, raised in one of the world’s most connected societies, and you get the 2020s edition: Champion grumblers evolved into champion meme makers.