The Privacy Debacle: Candidly Speaking from My Hotel Room
When I first told my mom that I wanted to move to Singapore to pursue an epic opportunity for my career (and passion) of chiropractic, her support and encouragement were second to none. She was excited, chatty, thrilled that I was taking this amazing opportunity by the metaphorical horns and really going for it.
But then her googling on Singapore began and her fears of me being jailed for not paying my taxes and not being provided a lawyer took her metaphorical bull by the horns and brought up a great deal of concern.
Others joked about getting caned—a form of legally sanctioned corporal punishment brought to Singapore by the British Empire in the 19th century.
“Don’t worry!”, I joked light-heartedly. “Women are exempt from caning as corporal punishment in Singapore.” Let’s just say that my satire was only appreciated by some.
And for the record, income taxes in Singapore work on a tiered system based on income. The higher the income, the higher the taxes. Given what my starting salary would be, the income tax I would have to pay would be comparatively low relative to the rest of the world (especially compared with what I would be paying in the US for the same salary—and yes I know, I will still have to pay some sort of US income tax) with the exception of places like Andorra, UAE, and Bermuda.
I opened with this to ease my mother’s queries, but the rumors about the “odd laws” in Singapore lingered in her consciousness. I assured her that given my track record of never getting into too much trouble at any point in my life, I felt confident that I could move through my time here in Singapore without such repercussions for any of my actions.
My first glimpses out of the airplane window of the boats anchored in the Singapore Strait.
Upon telling friends, family, peers, and colleagues that I was moving to Singapore, one of the biggest concerns was the balance between individual and societal rights to privacy. In particular, regarding rights when it comes to COVID and contact tracing.
I was fortunate enough to sit next to a born-and-raised, Singaporean local, Koh, on my shuttle ride from the airport to my designated hotel for my two-week quarantine upon arrival (referred to as a Stay-at-Home Notice here in Singapore). Koh was friendly, he was kind, he offered any assistance that he and his family could provide, and his genuineness was apparent. He even handed me a business card to ensure that he was accessible in any time of need in between his time as being my unofficial tour guide for the duration of our voyage. In exchange, I asked many questions, listened with an eager ear, and gave a recommendation of subscribing to Beach Body On Demand so he could ease his own concerns about not being able to complete adequate workouts during this two week sojourn, as he is a runner and had concerns about keeping up his cardio. Naturally, I recommended he take a rendezvous with my good pal, Shean T, of Insanity.
I was curious how things really were here regarding the hot topic of COVID here on this island that relies so heavily on commerce and businesspeople moving in and out in order to maintain not only a functioning economy, but the thriving economy for which Singapore is so well known.
I knew what sort of hoops I had to jump through as far as actually receiving my employment pass and getting into the country after my 17 hour flight were like, but what was actually going on here?
Koh, my new friend, started by asking me what I was doing in Singapore, to which I responded, “I work here! I just came for a job in a pediatric and prenatal chiropractic office”.
To which he curiously asked, “Have you ever been here before?”
“Nope! First time,” I responded with a big smile. He gave me a questioning but encouraging look.
Koh explained to me that Singapore is a city-state and country of a touch over five million people. Three and a half of which are local Singaporeans, while the rest are all expatriates who have relocated to Singapore. These people rely on movement in and out of Singapore.
Singapore is primarily governed by the People’s Action Party (PAP), who has more or less held power in Singapore since they swept general elections in 1959. The PAP has repeatedly kept power in the hands of the voters, thus, staying in power all of this time, some sixty plus years later. They are headed by a Prime Minister, who holds the majority of the power, and a President, whose duties include maintaining veto power in key areas of Singaporean legislature, namely fiscal, and holding other ceremonial duties, just to name a couple. The general consensus is that this party and the Singaporean government are competent in maintaining the success of the economy and are free from political corruption.
Guess what this leads to?
Trust. Trust between government and people, people and government.
The polar opposite of what goes on in nearly every other large country, namely the good ol’ US of A, Spain, and France, just to name a few. Gubernatorial skepticism and cynicism on behalf of Singapore’s residents take a back seat here, allowing for a nurturing and honoring relationship to unfold.
Which brings me back to Koh.
Homer homescreen.
“Singapore is a small country”, he tells me. “The government has come out from the very beginning of this and said that our goal, together, is to get this thing ‘under control’, whatever that looks like, so we can resume normal life as quickly as possible.”
What does this look like on paper?
This looks like closing the borders early on in this endeavor. To be precise, Singapore closed borders to tourists and short-term visitors on March 24th, 2020, to only have them reopen to longterm work pass holders and residents in the middle of the summer 2020. (This means I said my hellos, goodbyes, and see-ya-laters to family and friends, truly not knowing if I will see them again before my time in Singapore is up. But I do my best not to think about this.)
This looks like wearing masks anytime you are outside of your place of residence (from what I understand, as I literally am yet to leave my hotel room upon arrival).
This looks like no gatherings in parks larger than five people.
This looks like continuing to work from home, where possible.
This looks like scanning a QR code on your phone upon entering and exiting buildings such as chiropractic offices, grocery stores, malls, restaurants, for the purposes of contact tracing.
This looks like undergoing a two-week stay-at-home notice/quarantine for anyone (resident or work pass holder) entering the country in a hotel. The kicker is, the designated hotels are remain undisclosed to arrivees until the shuttle bus that takes passengers from the airport literally pulls up in front of a hotel. It is only at this point that quarantiners know where to call home for the next two weeks. From what I understand, there is a similar process playing out in Australia. I cannot help but think about the absolute madness that a process like this would cause in America. People literally wouldn’t have it. It would be anarchy.
Sidebar: I will say that Singapore is doing this in a conducive manner to humanity, in general. The government has reserved the four and five star hotels as the designated SHN hotels, as they have staff and services that are equipped for “this sort of thing”. I will say that I have had an overwhelmingly positive experience at the Capri Hotel in China Square, and that time certainly could have been far worse.
Here in Singapore, everyone abides. They abide because they know that this is just the way it is if they want to resume a semblance of normal life and avoid a second lockdown.
At this point, I would like to present a disclaimer of sorts, as this piece of writing is simply a conglomeration of facts about life in Singapore under the guise of COVID. My own views are not necessarily congruent with all aspects of daily life under this “new normal” (God DAMN who’s sick of that phrase?!?!). My actions in abiding are done out of respect for my new home, and also with the very practical piece that expats can be deported if they do not follow these guidelines and rules. I’m not going to go into number of “cases” here, but I will say that they have been fairly low here in Singapore, regardless of the severity or lack thereof of what this thing actually is. That is not what this brief snapshot into a day in the life is about.
What goes on here in Singapore looks like compromising on what many Americans would refer to as individual rights to privacy.
But this begs the question, is it really that different in any other country?
Perhaps the Singaporean government is just more candid regarding so-called “safety” measures they are taking in this moment because they know that there is and has been a long-established trust between the governing and the governed.
Worldwide, there is immense skepticism as to what it really means to have “privacy”. If a group of people is going to be surveilled for a specific purpose, wouldn’t you rather the government just come out and say it as opposed to skittering around the conversation, denying claims at every turn?
Onwards.
Kylie, my new boss, instructed me to let her know which hotel I had arrived at so she could drop of a Singaporean SIM card for me to use during my hotel stay. It was imperative that I had a Singaporean line that the government, specifically the Ministry of Manpower, could contact me on to ensure that I am fulfilling my quarantine without leaving the room. I was alerted that on day two of my quarantine, I would receive a message from the MOM instructing me to download an app called Homer.
Homer is a surveillance app.
I received the message I had been waiting for from MOM on day two and followed through with their instructions to download the app. I entered in a designated code given to me by the MOM and proceeded with the instructions.
“Do not close Homer. Homer needs to be kept running at all times for location reporting.”
Woah.
And then immediate chatter: but what if I accidentally close it?
With this app, that must be running constantly in the background for two weeks, I am to submit three daily entries consisting of a selfie done through the app to verify identity, a temperature check, and a short questionnaire of symptoms, to which the answer is always “no”, because I am healthy, I am full of vitality, and I have a functioning immune system, just like every other person on this planet. These submissions are to be completed during designated times: between 8-10am, between 1-3pm, and between 6-8pm. No exceptions. If a submission doesn’t make it in or the location stops tracking, I get to see an employee of the MOM via video call, as they video call to ensure that I am, in fact, in the room I am supposed to be in.
Temperature check and symptom questionnaire that must be submitted 3x daily
These three daily submissions are also supplemented by between one and three daily calls from an employee of the Ministry of Manpower, asking the same questions in the same two minute phone call every, single, day.
Is this Gabrielle Valerie Goldach? Yes.
Can you verify the last four digits of your FIN number? Yes. _ _ _ _
Can you verify what type of pass you are on? Employment pass.
And you are staying at the Capri Hotel by Fraser China Square? Yes.
Can you verify your room number? Sure.
Are you staying alone or with family? Oh yes, all alone!
Your stay at home order is from November 8 through November 22, is that correct? Oh, you bet. I’m here for every moment of it!
Have you been contacted about the date of your swab test? Yes, looking forward to having my brain swabbed on day eleven.
These brief chats last between one minute and fifty seconds if they’re efficient, to up to three minutes if they’re on the slower side. By the end of this thing, maybe I’ll call up the MOM and ask if making these calls could be part of my side hustle, considering I’ve had the routine down pat since day three.
I am also called once a day, typically around 11am, by the front desk asking for that morning’s temperature reading.
So…surveillance.
A heavy topic. One that certainly varies in affectivity and efficacy by country.
As I watch the events unfold worldwide from the comfort and safety of my hotel room, I am actually quite thrilled to be living in a place in which there is no real threat of a second lockdown. I am in a place that is doing everything it can to start to open up travel bubbles with other countries, such as Japan and New Zealand, who have their “situation” under control. I am grateful to be living in a place that wants to see normal life return as soon as possible so we can move away from this state of survival and fear and into a state of connection and function once again. I am deeply appreciative to experience living in a country in which there is trust amongst its people.
I didn’t run away from home to come and find this. I was guided here by something, by someone, else. Yet here I am. In a place where there is far less turmoil that most other places on the planet in this moment. A place where people are collectively working together, locals and expats alike, to find a way to come back home to self and one another.
I truly do look forward to gaining a more thorough understanding of what that balance of individual rights and societal rights looks like once I am out of this container and amongst the rest of the millions roaming the streets and living their lives, free from the fear of another lockdown halting daily life as we have come to re-know it.
Regardless of everything, this post is meant to open discussion. To stimulate questions, to expand perspectives and ways of being.
Do I know what’s right or best in this situation?
Absolutely not. Would never claim to know such a thing.
All I can do is share my (limited) experience in living in this new country with different rules and regulations than I have ever had to adapt to prior, and hope to meet it with my own perceptions of what I know to be in alignment with my own truths.
And with that, it is time to submit another glorious selfie to Homer.
