This editorial responds directly to Ho Ching’s recent Facebook post defending Singapore’s electoral boundary redrawing process.
We do so not as a neutral report, but as a necessary rebuttal—because her characterisation of the issue, both in substance and tone, misrepresents the facts, dismisses legitimate concerns, and glosses over deeper structural imbalances that shape the country’s electoral landscape.
Ho Ching is not merely a private citizen. She is the former Chief Executive Officer of Temasek Holdings and has served as Chairperson of Temasek Trust since 2022.
She is also the spouse of Senior Minister Lee Hsien Loong, who was Singapore’s Prime Minister and the long-serving Secretary-General of the People’s Action Party (PAP).
Her public interventions—particularly when political in nature—carry influence, visibility, and the implicit authority of proximity to the ruling establishment.
On 11 October 2025, she published a lengthy Facebook post defending the frequent redrawing of electoral boundaries in Singapore.
She claimed the process exists to ensure voter parity and to accommodate population changes, dismissing criticisms of gerrymandering as “playing the victim card” and referring to dissenters as “crybabies” who risk being pampered.
But these are not harmless remarks. They serve to undermine and trivialise growing concerns over the fairness, transparency, and accountability of how Singapore’s electoral map is shaped. Such comments, when made by someone of Ho Ching’s stature, contribute to the normalisation of institutional opacity and the delegitimisation of public scrutiny.
Her argument is riddled with omissions, contradictions, and rhetorical gaslighting. And it is precisely because of the weight her words carry—by virtue of who she is and the system she continues to defend—that a clear, evidence-based rebuttal is not just warranted, but essential.
This is not simply about tone. It is about trust in the integrity of Singapore’s electoral system—and the right of citizens to question the structures that define their vote.
Misrepresenting Japan: a flawed comparison
Let us start with the Japan comparison—because she raised it, and it deserves to be answered on its own terms.
It is true that Japan has historically had a rural-urban imbalance in representation.
But that problem was not ignored. Under Japanese law, electoral boundaries must be reviewed and updated within one year of the release of census data, which is conducted every ten years. The redistricting process is based on clear legal criteria and institutional independence—not the political discretion of the government in power.
In Japan, redistricting is not timed to suit political convenience. Elections may be called early, but the map used is determined by a regular, census-anchored process.
The political leadership cannot unilaterally redraw lines in the months before an election.
In contrast, Singapore’s Electoral Boundaries Review Committee (EBRC) is convened by the Prime Minister, reports to the Prime Minister’s Office, and its chairman is typically the Secretary to the Cabinet—currently Tan Kee Yong, who is also Secretary to the Prime Minister.
Even if the Prime Minister does not give explicit instructions, the institutional proximity makes neutrality difficult to guarantee—and impossible to verify.
What also makes the comparison particularly weak is that Japan—like nearly every other democracy—does not have a GRC system.
Its parliamentary elections are conducted through single-member districts and proportional representation, meaning each electoral district returns a single representative, and voters cast individual ballots for candidates or party lists. Constituency boundaries may shift based on census data, but the fundamental structure of representation remains consistent and predictable.
In contrast, Singapore’s GRC system allows for teams of four to five candidates to contest as a block, with the winning team taking all seats.
This system, unique globally, introduces far more flexibility—and ambiguity—into how boundaries can be drawn or adjusted. GRCs can be created, dissolved, merged, or split with little explanation, and each change can significantly alter the electoral map.
The scope for boundary redrawing is therefore not just about adjusting for population, but potentially for political advantage.
The implications of redistricting in Singapore are thus far more complex than in systems where voters choose individuals in stable, single-member constituencies.
Potong Pasir: the myth of equal voter numbers
Ho Ching cites Potong Pasir SMC as an example of restraint. She claims it was “left untouched for a long time” despite a smallish population, perhaps ironically, to avoid accusations of gerrymandering. But this characterisation conveniently ignores decades of data.
Potong Pasir was not left untouched out of caution. It was deliberately contained. Its voter base remained small, even as surrounding areas grew rapidly.
In 2006, while Chiam See Tong of the Singapore People’s Party (SPP) remained MP, Potong Pasir had just 15,864 voters. The next smallest SMC was 21,026. The largest, Nee Soon East, had 32,569 voters—more than double Potong Pasir’s number.
In 2020, it still had only 18,551 voters, again one of the smallest SMCs. The next highest—Yuhua—had 21,188. These figures run directly counter to Ho Ching’s assertion that Singapore aims for an even range of about 20,000–30,000 voters per MP.
If population equity were the only concern, Potong Pasir would have been merged or redrawn long ago. Instead, it was maintained as an artificially small constituency, arguably because absorbing it into surrounding wards might have introduced opposition-leaning voters into PAP-held areas, raising electoral risk.
The case of Potong Pasir doesn’t prove fairness. It proves strategic containment.
Aljunied and Sengkang: left untouched—for now
Likewise, Aljunied GRC and Sengkang GRC—both held by the opposition Workers’ Party (WP)—were not spared because the system is fair. They were untouched likely because redrawing them would be riskier.
If their populations exceed those of surrounding PAP-held GRCs, but splitting them would dilute ruling party margins in adjacent wards, leaving them intact becomes a pragmatic political choice—not a democratic one.
This selective approach, dictated by electoral calculus, not principles, gives the lie to any claim of consistent redistricting criteria.
Inconsistencies in representation: data adds weight to the critique
Recent public analysis has further undercut the argument that Singapore’s electoral boundaries are redrawn purely for voter equity.
In a six-minute TikTok video responding to comments by Associate Professor Eugene Tan—who claimed “there has never really been any evidence” of unfair practices in redistricting— Joleen Teo, a mathematical and theoretical physicist laid out concrete, data-driven inconsistencies in Singapore’s electoral landscape.
Using publicly available figures and data visualisations, Teo highlighted three core problems: large disparities in elector-to-MP ratios, a lack of transparency in assigning MP numbers to constituencies, and highly irregular constituency shapes that defy fair-mapping principles.
For example, while the average elector-to-MP ratio is reported to be 28,384, Jo’s breakdown showed constituencies ranging from 22,000 to over 33,000 electors per MP—a 51% difference between the smallest and largest districts. Such a spread undermines the stated goal of equal voter representation.
More significantly, Teo pointed out that opposition-held constituencies tend to have higher elector-to-MP ratios, meaning their MPs serve more voters than those in ruling party-held areas. This not only creates unequal representation but may also translate into diminished access to constituency-level resources, which are often tied to political control.
One illustrative case Teo raised was Marine Parade–Braddell Heights GRC, which received five MPs, despite having only a marginal difference in voter numbers compared to Sengkang GRC, which was assigned four MPs. The rationale behind such allocations is not explained in the EBRC white paper, adding to the perception of arbitrariness.
Teo’s findings are not speculative. She applied the Polsby-Popper Score, a standard political science measure of boundary compactness, to Singapore’s constituencies.
Many performed poorly. Marine Parade–Braddell Heights GRC scored just 0.25 out of 1, indicating a sprawling, non-compact shape. Such shapes can be signs of partisan district design, commonly associated with gerrymandering in other jurisdictions.
These data points underscore that the problems critics raise are not based on sentiment or sour grapes, as Ho Ching implies. They are empirical, observable, and reproducible.
As Teo concluded, the question is not whether redistricting happens—it must—but whether it is done transparently and equitably.
Ironically, she cites a 2005 article by Eugene Tan himself, in which he warned that efforts to build spatial and electoral fairness were often undermined by political interests. That earlier insight appears far more aligned with Jo’s current analysis than with his recent public defence.
Rather than dismissing criticism as “anti-PAP” or “crybaby politics,” this analysis illustrates the urgent need for a redistricting process governed not by opaque discretion, but by independent standards, statutory clarity, and public accountability.
Timing, compression, and advantage
Even if one were to accept the idea that boundaries are redrawn purely for demographic balance, the timing of the process is deeply problematic.
There is no legal requirement for when the EBRC must report.
The Prime Minister can dissolve Parliament shortly after its release, as happened in 2001 (1 day), 2015 (32 days), and most recently in 2025 (35 days). Meanwhile, the campaign period remains fixed at just nine days, plus a cooling-off day.
This leaves opposition parties scrambling to adjust. They may lose familiar constituencies, be forced to contest unfamiliar ones, or run in newly drawn seats with no time to organise.
The 2025 case of Dr Chee Soon Juan, Secretary-General of the Singapore Democratic Party (SDP), underscores the problem.
Dr Chee had walked the ground in Bukit Batok SMC for nine consecutive years, embodying the very model of long-term constituency engagement that Ho Ching and other PAP figures often claim is necessary for opposition credibility.
Yet, just months before the election, Bukit Batok SMC was erased from the map. Dr Chee was left without a seat and had to scramble to find another constituency.
He eventually contested Sembawang West SMC, a new ward with no historical presence for the SDP. Despite running a competitive campaign, the abrupt shift deprived him of the advantage he had painstakingly built.
One cannot rule out the possibility that such redrawing was anticipated to force high-profile opposition candidates into crowded contests, or into resource-intensive GRCs, further straining already limited capabilities.
By contrast, the PAP can redeploy candidates islandwide with minimal disruption. Figures like Tan See Leng and Gan Kim Yong have moved across constituencies with little notice, backed by the vast infrastructure of the People’s Association and decades of institutional presence. Opposition parties have no equivalent support.
A similar disruption unfolded for WP during the 2025 General Election.
Pritam Singh, WP chief and Leader of the Opposition, spoke publicly about how the redrawing of boundaries forced the party to abandon its campaign plans in Marine Parade–Braddell Heights GRC, a ward it had contested in the previous two elections and had steadily gained ground in—securing 42.26 per cent of the vote in 2020.
Speaking on Kiss92 FM in August 2025, Singh described how the Electoral Boundaries Review Committee’s March report “reset the playing board”, prompting the WP to make difficult, strategic choices.
“You’ve got only that many cards in your hands,” Singh noted, explaining that WP’s decision not to contest the ward wasn’t due to a lack of interest, but a tactical pivot based on resource constraints and the abrupt redrawing of constituencies.
Marine Parade–Braddell Heights GRC had absorbed MacPherson SMC and part of Mountbatten, while losing Chai Chee and Joo Chiat—changes that not only reshaped the ward demographically but also compressed the time available for WP to recalibrate.
As Singh later said in a separate podcast appearance, this kind of late-stage redistricting is the “original sin in Singapore politics”—an institutional flaw that complicates meaningful competition. Despite fielding 26 candidates, including 14 newcomers, the WP held its ground but gained no new constituencies in GE2025.
Ho Ching’s dismissal of such lived realities as mere victim-playing or weakness ignores the very real systemic disadvantages faced by opposition parties.
It is not just about “walking the ground.” It is about having that ground shifted beneath your feet with little notice—and being expected to run the same race regardless.
The “crybaby” accusation: projection, not rebuttal
Among the most troubling aspects of Ho Ching’s post is her tone. She writes:
“Let’s not go to the extreme of pampering crybabies—we don’t develop strong, independent and resilient adults and society by pampering whimpering and whining kids all the time.”
This is not just dismissive—it is revealing.
When a ruling party builds a system where boundaries are redrawn by a committee that answers to the Prime Minister, where timing is opaque, where campaign periods are compressed, and where state-linked organisations provide structural advantage—then accuses its critics of whining—that is not strength. That is projection.
It is the equivalent of a bully demanding sympathy because someone called out their tactics. Or more vividly, it’s like throwing a newborn into a tiger pit and mocking them for not fighting back, arms and legs tied.
Singapore’s political system is not a fair contest. It is a field tilted sharply towards one side, with referees, rulebooks, and goalposts controlled by the same team. Even if the basic rules—like “a goal counts”—are applied, the broader conditions make true competition nearly impossible.
Calling out this imbalance is not whining. It is what responsible citizenship looks like.
Fix the structure, not the spin
Ho Ching’s defence of Singapore’s redistricting practices relies on a mix of selective international comparisons, incomplete data, and rhetorical posturing.
Her choice of tone reflects a deeper unease: for all the PAP’s dominance, criticisms of the system’s fairness are landing more strongly with each election cycle.
Singaporeans are not naïve. They understand that demographic shifts require adjustments. But they also understand the difference between independent process and partisan control.
The EBRC’s proximity to the Prime Minister’s Office, the selective treatment of opposition wards, the compressed timeline, and the deployment of state-linked resources all point to a system designed for electoral advantage—not equity.
And beyond the redrawing of boundaries, Singapore’s electoral structure itself compounds these challenges.
The country uses a first-past-the-post system layered with GRC system — a model found nowhere else in the world. It not only amplifies the winner-takes-all effect, but also raises the entry barriers for opposition parties, who must field entire teams to contest a single GRC. Even a narrow loss translates into a complete shutout.
If the government truly believes that it wins on merit, then it should support institutional reforms to level the playing field—starting with an independent boundaries commission, a fixed redistricting timetable, and equal access to community infrastructure.
Strong systems don’t fear scrutiny. Only insecure ones lash out with accusations of “crybaby” politics.
The post Ho Ching’s defence of Singapore’s redistricting system misleads and misdirects appeared first on The Online Citizen.
