By Santosh Kumar Dhakal, Major General (Retd.), Nepal Army
In Nepal’s political vocabulary, few words carry as much symbolic weight as “Singapore.” More often than not, it surfaces during shifts in the political context and is raised as a symbol of national aspiration in speeches that promise transformation. On social media, it resurfaces in the post-election environment. The term has, over time, become shorthand for prosperity, efficiency, and modern governance. Its early usage by late Prime Minister Krishna Prasad Bhattarai embedded it deeply in Nepal’s public imagination, where it continues to oscillate between aspiration and skepticism. Yet, beneath this frequent appeal lies an important question: What do we actually mean when we say Nepal should become like Singapore? Is it a serious policy direction grounded in institutional reform, or merely a rhetorical device deployed in moments of political convenience?
There is, of course, a valid argument against simplistic comparisons. Nepal and Singapore differ profoundly in geography, demography, political evolution, and state capacity. Nepal is larger, more diverse, and historically more complex in its governance challenges. Singapore, by contrast, is a small city-state with a highly centralized administrative structure. To assume that one can be directly replicated in the other would be analytically flawed.
However, to reject the comparison outright is equally problematic. The value of Singapore as a reference point lies not in imitation, but in understanding the principles that enabled its transformation. It is not a model to be copied mechanically, but a case study to be examined critically.
At the center of Singapore’s transformation stands Lee Kuan Yew, a leader whose influence extended far beyond his country’s borders. Serving as Prime Minister from 1959 to 1990, Lee presided over a period of extraordinary change, turning a resource-scarce port into one of the most efficient and prosperous states in the world. His leadership was defined not by populist appeal, but by strategic clarity, institutional discipline, and a willingness to make decisions that prioritized long-term national interest over short-term political gain.
Lee himself acknowledged the role of circumstance in success, once remarking that outcomes are shaped as much by luck as by merit. Yet, he also understood that luck alone cannot sustain progress. It must be supported by systems—coherent, enforceable, and resilient.
A significant episode that illustrates Singapore’s broader influence on Asia involves Deng Xiaoping. When Deng visited Singapore in 1978, he encountered a nation that challenged many of his assumptions about development. Decades earlier, as a young man traveling to France for a work-study program, Deng had seen Singapore as a modest colonial port city under British rule. What he witnessed upon his return nearly six decades later was a transformed society—orderly, prosperous, and forward-looking. Fifty-eight years later, Deng witnessed a transformation achieved largely by the majority Chinese population, who had descended from poorly educated migrants from Southern China. If they could develop, mainland China could do even better with the right policies.
There is no big or small country. The clout of any country depends upon its political, economic, and social leverage. The visit enabled these two remarkable leaders to meet and understand each other, as well as establish subsequent collaborations. The visit was conducted amidst the growing tension between China and the Soviet Union and Vietnam, which was then gearing up to attack Khmer Rouge–ruled Cambodia.
Deng explained China’s position to Lee, and Lee, a stout politician, directly questioned him from the position of strength as why China was inciting the Chinese population in Singapore with weapons in the name of the Soviet Union and Cuba, as they are far from here. Then Deng politely asked Lee what he wanted from him. Lee said: “Stop it.” Deng immediately promised, and within 18 months it stopped.
The visit opened the door for Chinese officials at Nanyang Technological University to learn the development model of Singapore. Seven hundred Chinese delegates learned from it. Deng, at the age of 76, abandoned his lifelong beliefs and embarked on a one-party system based on a Confucian model. The chances of the implosion of 1.2 billion people were looming on the horizon then. Imitating and imbibing the best practices of Singapore’s particularly in governance, discipline, and economic openness—China set itself on a path of rapid transformation and rescued the country from chaos.
Looking at the pace of China’s development, Lee later said that China would not be coming to Singapore to learn from them; rather, they would be going to China to learn from it in the future. Later, in one of his interviews, when Lee was asked what he would have done if he had been in Deng’s place, he answered that he was born at the wrong time and in the wrong place, never went on the Long March with him, and never commanded the armies that crossed the Yangtze and charged the Kuomintang.
These historical interactions underscore a crucial point: transformation is neither accidental nor purely endogenous. It often involves learning, adaptation, and the willingness to revise long-held assumptions.
For Nepal, the relevance of this lesson lies in the need to move beyond rhetorical admiration toward structural understanding.
One of the most distinctive features of Singapore’s governance model is its approach to public services. Contrary to popular perception, Singapore does not operate on a system of widespread free provision. Instead, it is built on a principle that is both simple and powerful: almost nothing is entirely free.
Public services are heavily subsidized, but citizens are expected to contribute according to their means. The wealthy pay more; the less affluent pay less; but almost no one pays nothing. This principle is not merely fiscal—it is psychological. It fosters a sense of ownership, discourages misuse, and reinforces the idea that public goods are collectively sustained.
Healthcare provides a clear illustration. While Singapore’s public hospitals offer substantial subsidies—often covering 80 to 90 percent of costs—patients are still required to make co-payments. This ensures that services remain accessible without being taken for granted. The system is supported by institutional mechanisms such as the Central Provident Fund, which integrates savings, insurance, and safety nets, including Medifund for those unable to pay.
In housing, the state plays a central role through the Housing and Development Board, which develops and sells homes at subsidized rates rather than distributing them free of cost. This approach has enabled a large majority of Singaporeans to become homeowners, while maintaining a sense of individual responsibility.
Similarly, in education, although the state provides significant support, individuals contribute through tuition fees, particularly at the university level. This not only ensures financial sustainability but also encourages students to value their education and use resources efficiently.
The underlying philosophy can be described as “dignity over dependency.” By requiring contribution—even if symbolic—the system affirms the agency of citizens rather than reducing them to passive recipients of state support.
In Nepal, however, this principle often encounters resistance. There is a persistent expectation that the state should provide services at minimal or no cost, regardless of fiscal constraints. At the same time, benefits intended for the disadvantaged are not always effectively targeted. Instances where economically capable individuals access subsidies meant for marginalized groups are not uncommon. Such practices weaken the integrity of public systems and reduce their capacity to serve those most in need.
Beyond economic design, Singapore’s success is closely tied to its approach to discipline and governance. It is often assumed that discipline in Singapore is maintained through strict laws alone. While legal enforcement is indeed robust, the reality is more nuanced. Discipline emerges from a combination of clear rules, consistent enforcement, institutional credibility, and social conditioning.
Laws in Singapore are not only stringent but also predictable. Violations are met with consistent consequences, and enforcement is largely free from arbitrariness. This creates a high degree of trust in institutions, making compliance a rational choice rather than a coerced one.
Social conditioning begins early. Schools emphasize civic responsibility, cleanliness, and respect for authority. National service, conducted through the Singapore Armed Forces, reinforces discipline and fosters a shared sense of identity to the citizen. Over time, these elements contribute to a culture where rule-following is not merely expected but internalized.
Economic structures further reinforce this discipline. With widespread homeownership and mandatory savings, citizens have a tangible stake in maintaining social order. Disorder is not an abstract concern—it directly affects property values, economic opportunities, and personal security.
Technology and urban design also play a role, with surveillance and well-planned public spaces contributing to an environment where compliance is both monitored and normalized. Yet, what sustains the system is not surveillance alone, but legitimacy—the belief that rules are fair and applied equally.
In Nepal, the challenge is not the absence of laws, but the inconsistency of their application. Rules often exist in principle but are unevenly enforced in practice. This undermines institutional credibility and creates a culture where compliance becomes selective. Without trust in the system, even well-designed policies struggle to achieve their intended outcomes.
This is why the repeated invocation of “Singapore” in Nepal’s discourse risks becoming superficial. Without addressing the underlying issues of governance, discipline, and accountability, the comparison remains rhetorical rather than substantive.
The path forward for Nepal does not lie in attempting to replicate Singapore in form, but in internalizing its foundational principles. This requires a shift at multiple levels.
For leadership, it demands a move away from short-term populism toward long-term strategic thinking. Policies must be designed not merely to win elections, but to build institutions that endure.
For citizens, it requires a reassessment of expectations. Public services cannot be sustained without contribution. Rules cannot be effective if they are selectively observed. Accountability must be universal, not conditional.
Perhaps most importantly, it calls for a cultural shift—from seeking exceptions to accepting norms, from externalizing blame to embracing responsibility.
As stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius said, “Whenever you are about to find fault with someone, ask yourself the following question: What fault of mine most nearly resembles the one I am about to criticize?” This insight, though ancient, remains profoundly relevant. National progress, like personal growth, begins with introspection. “Singapore” should not remain a slogan invoked in moments of convenience. It should serve as a reminder that development is not a matter of aspiration alone, but of discipline, design, and shared commitment. Nepal does not need to become Singapore. But it does need to decide whether it is willing to adopt the values that make transformation possible. Only then can the metaphor evolve into meaningful progress.
Login to add a comment