A
journalist
Joins a new club
And finds its not such a great idea. By Seah Chiang Nee.
Jun 20, 2005
WHEN I reached 65 recently, I gained entry
into a club in Singapore that is becoming less exclusive
by the year.
It's a bit like entering life's twilight
zone in which we are three years past retirement age and
a decade ahead of product expiration. The average lifespan
here is 75, slightly less for men.
The perks of membership are not bad by world
standards, but in a global, high-tech world that favours
youth, growing old is not a great idea.
Singapore is no exception, except here our
numbers are increasing faster than most countries in Asia.
Twilight
zone? Yes, because on one side, the elderly is revered as
a sage who will pass traditions to grandchildren, which
I think is good. At the same time, he is regarded as "an
economic burden" to society.
On balance though, I believe there's enough
of tradition remaining in this international city that respects
its "senior citizens" as they are referred to
in official documents.
Next year, a whole week will be earmarked
to pay tribute to them. Youths of all races address them
as "uncles" or "aunties". Where else
in the world is this happening?
I also get to pay less for public transport,
cinema tickets, some concerts and fees at the zoo and other
tourist spots. I even get discounts at my supermarket one
day a week.
Some restaurants give out rebates to schoolchildren
and retirees, though I suspect the move more as a marketing
ploy, but who's complaining?
The treatment of the aged becomes crucial
because this population is rising rapidly.
In 1990, there were 164,000 Singaporeans
aged 65 or older; in 2003, the figure had risen to 264,000.
By 2030, they will hit 800,000 or 19% of the citizenry.
Proportionate to population, today's 7%
will rise to 19% in 25 years. Singapore is steadily churning
out fewer babies and more aged, a formula for demographic
disaster.
Ageing has more flip sides. Those afflicted
can't easily climb Mount Kinabalu or ride a skateboard or
run 6km wearing army boots.
It actually entails living in a new world
armed with old knowledge.
Many 65-sers have no more than a primary school education,
some still unable to use the typewriter even after it has
been rendered extinct by the computer.
I operate a website and have long discovered
that hardly any of my age-group friends are visiting it
or any other site. The Internet community remains largely
teens and young professionals.
Many are feeling out of place with the world's
new technology, including the Internet.
During one visit to the General Hospital,
I saw an elderly man struggling to push excess cups back
up into the holder after he had mistakenly pulled them out.
For a long time he failed until a teenager helped him by
dropping them back - from the top.
At a nearby counter, an uneducated gentleman
in his 70s had to use his thumbprint because he couldn't
sign his name. He used only dialect, which presented the
young Mandarin-speaking receptionist some difficulty.
That they had to grapple with even the simplest
tasks, let alone high-tech stuff, reflects how modern life
is affecting some of my older peers.
Members of the 65-club also face failing
health and higher medical costs, become easier victims for
criminal violence or erratic car drivers. They also form
the majority of lonely and suicide deaths.
The world is rotating away from them towards
their children and grandchildren. Some 57% of public dealings
with the government are done online.
Youth is vibrancy and has a dream, while
the retiree has only wishes and past memories.
So how do they cope? The majority depends
on their working children, but the economic downturn has
affected many middle-class families and made a dent on their
lives.
Others survive on savings, mainly from Central
Provident Fund. The hardier ones work in fast food or petrol
outlets or clean tables. Welfarism is a dirty word here.
Last week, The Straits Times reported an
increasing number of elderly being dumped in nursing homes
by their children unwilling or unable to pay the bills.
"The residents' children play hide-and-seek
with social workers, ignore letters and calls, even move
house to avoid paying," its reporter wrote. "Some
threaten to throw their parents onto the street if the homes
discharge them."
A few senior citizens, because of slow reflexes
and poor eyesight, are themselves causing havoc on the roads.
Since age 60, I have had to pass an eyesight
test conducted by a doctor before I could renew my driving
licence.
This week, the government said that was
not enough. It appears that drivers over 60 were responsible
for 82% of traffic deaths in the first quarter of the year.
So I will soon have to face a tougher test
involving the use of a simulator to check my driving reflexes
and physical abilities.
Singapore's retirement age was raised from
55 to 60 years in 1993, then to 62 years in 1999. Minister
Mentor Lee Kuan Yew wants it higher at 67.Cynics scoff that
it would be meaningless since so many workers in their 40's
are already losing jobs to younger people.
Obviously concerned, the government is going
all out to retrain older workers or match jobs for the unemployed,
whose success or failure will impact politics.
The baby boomers are the ruling People's
Action Party's most ardent supporters, having benefited
most from the city's early successes. Many feel beholden
to it for being lifted out of poverty.
This group forms a solid bloc of pro-PAP
voters, although recent hardships may have eroded a part
of it.
The 1984 general election in which 12.4%
of voters swung to the opposition led Lee to ponder changing
the one-person-one-vote system.
He said that older and married citizens
with children ought to be given more than one vote in accordance
with age because they were generally more mature and gamble
less with the vote compared to singles.
It never materialised. Evidently he was
talked out of it.
No one can really predict how - when given
two or three votes instead of one - Singapore's granddad
would use that power.
(This was written for and published in The Sunday Star on
Jun 19, 2005)