Commentary: What happened when a group of locals and foreigners spoke bluntly about living together in Singapore
We must find ways to talk about immigration and other topics where there are real frustrations and legitimate concerns, say IPS’ Nicholas Thomas, Justin Lee, Wilson Goh, A’isyah Najib and Cecilia Kuek.
Pedestrians crossing a street in Orchard Road in Singapore. (File photo: AFP/Roslan Rahman)
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SINGAPORE: Before the consensus conference on local-foreign integration even started, a participant sent us an email. He wanted the Institute of Policy Studies’ research team to know what to expect: He wrote that he intended to be vocal. That he was angry and frustrated. That he wanted to voice his concerns about citizens being neglected, about job losses to foreigners, about how he saw his country being flooded by foreign workers and immigrants.
Would the panel or the other attendees be able to take it? And if we felt it was better that he not participate, he said, no worries, he could leave.
He went on to spend four full-day sessions over four weeks with 23 strangers – in all, 16 citizens, three permanent residents and five foreigners – to find common ground for their views on everything from access to jobs and education to identity.
At the end of the process, he told us it had been good. Not because it had changed his mind – but because all those present had been free to voice their views and reason with one other, and no one had been pushed to adopt a pre-determined position.
The study findings and recommendations were reported in January. But against a backdrop of anti-immigration sentiment in other countries, the story that is important for Singapore is also what happened behind the scenes: How locals and foreigners wrestled with hard questions and managed to emerge with mutual respect intact even if they did not all agree.
REAL TENSION AMONG PARTICIPANTS
There was real tension. Some said things that made others visibly uncomfortable.
A Singaporean spoke bluntly about foreigners who come here, earn money and leave. A foreigner pushed back on what she saw as unfair assumptions. Voices were raised. Silences hung heavy.
And then, lunch. The same people who had just clashed over jobs and identity were at the food table, laughing, swapping stories, asking about each other's lives. By session three, they were greeting each other like old colleagues. By session four, something close to friends.
How does fierce debate in the room and warmth outside it co-exist? How did disagreement not curdle into contempt?
WHAT MADE IT WORK?
We think the answer lies in three elements of the consensus conference.
First, facilitation held a safe space for dialogue. Our facilitators let discomfort sit without rushing to resolve it, but also invited voices back when they went quiet.
Second, participants built something together. They drafted statements on every issue, contested and refined them word by word. Everyone needed to make a stand on their position.
Third, dissent had a visible and legitimate place. When someone said, "I cannot live with this," the statement moved to the no-go zone immediately. Emotion or personal stories about why they dissented with the statement were accepted as legitimate reasons, not only data and trends.
In the end, they reached unanimous consensus on 23 of 67 participant-generated statements. Where they could not agree, the structure made that visible too. The method worked, in part, because of Singapore's civic foundation built over decades. More enduring than the statements was the strengthening of bridging social capital across residency lines.
SAFE TO SPEAK, WILLING TO LISTEN
And the participants too surprised us. This was not a focus group. It was not a town hall to give feedback. It involved a structured process of deliberation with other fellow residents.
The commitment was remarkable. Three of the four whole-day sessions saw full attendance, with the exception due to a personal exigency and illness. They worked through round after round of statements. They volunteered to help write the report, on their own time. We could feel it in the room: People were making a special effort, because they wanted to make Singapore a better place to live together.
Participants also felt safe enough to be honest. They voiced frustrations and anxieties they had carried quietly, some discovering, for the first time, that they were not alone. The discussions were also surprisingly supportive. When someone struggled to find the right words, others stepped in to help, even if they disagreed with the view. When participants felt heard and supported, something shifted.
They also became willing to listen, hearing counterpoints from people they would rarely meet at close quarters. They felt less certain that their views were always right and acknowledged that opposing positions were valid too.
HAVING CONVERSATIONS WHEN THE HEAT RUNS HIGH
As Chair of REACH, Senior Minister of State Tan Kiat How said at the Singapore Perspectives conference in January: "If we do not talk about differences, friction will escalate." The key word is talk – talking to, not past each other, and without assuming the worst about the other.
This is how social capital is built. At the same conference, IPS Director Janadas Devan spoke of the "retreat into insularity" we are witnessing everywhere: the reluctance to trust or interact with anyone different from ourselves.
The consensus conference was a small act of resistance against that retreat. As Mr Devan reminded us, "No person, no group, no nation even, can exist other than in a web of relationships." For four weekends, 24 people chose to stay in that web together.
Singapore is not yet polarised the way some other societies are. That is the fruit of decades of patient and quiet work of institution-building, of a shared commitment to keep talking even when it is hard.
The question is whether we continue to strengthen that foundation, especially on topics where the heat runs high. This pilot suggests we can.
HE STAYED
And as for that participant who wrote to us before the first session, the one who warned us he would be vocal? He did speak his mind. He listened. He was heard. He even volunteered to be part of the writing group. And at the end, he found it a meaningful process.
There are many more like him – people with strong views, real frustrations, legitimate concerns – who are willing to show up if we create the right spaces. It might be easier to be cynical about citizen engagement, but those who show up will surprise us, and be surprised in turn.
The invitation is open.
The authors were part of the Institute of Policy Studies Policy Lab research team that piloted Singapore’s first Consensus Conference. Their findings were presented at the Singapore Perspectives 2026 Conference.
