In recent years, the Singapore government has introduced a series of policies to safeguard employees’ mental health. These include requiring employers to establish formal processes for responding to flexible work requests, while sending a clear signal that employees’ rest time must be respected. These moves address one of the most deeply-entrenched problems in today’s workplace: technology appears to boost productivity, yet quietly dismantles the boundaries between work and life, pushing many to the brink of anxiety.
A friend recently took his family on an overseas holiday. What should have been a long-awaited opportunity to recharge was repeatedly disrupted by his boss’s “just a quick question” and “urgent client enquiries”. As he built sandcastles with his children on the beach, he was pinged by WhatsApp messages from his boss. The first thing he did on returning to Singapore was hand in his resignation, his mind firmly made up.
This is far from an isolated case. It reflects the proliferation of “invisible overtime” in the digital age. Singapore’s distinctive “kiasu” (fear of losing) workplace culture undoubtedly makes matters worse.
In local workplaces, the “kiasu” gene often mutates into a relentless competition to be available around the clock. Employers, afraid of “losing a client” or “falling behind competitors”, all but expect staff to become machines that run 24 hours a day without rest. Employees, afraid of “being seen as insufficiently committed” or “falling behind in performance appraisals”, reply immediately to messages even after work or while on leave, to make their presence felt. Fuelled by instant messaging apps, this urge to demonstrate commitment, driven by the fear of losing out, leaves people mentally trapped.
Before the internet, a natural physical boundary separated work from life. Once people clocked off and left the office, work stayed behind closed doors. Without smartphones, there were no late-night emails to worry about, no relentless barrage of messages in work group chats, and no obligation to join video meetings during family gatherings. Though it lacked flexibility, it allowed the brain to truly and deeply recharge. The sense of well-being back then was, to a large extent, sheltered by the limitations of technology. Of course, there is no going back, but that clear sense of boundaries is certainly worth reflecting on.
There is no denying that communications technology brings people closer. We need look no further than COVID-19, when these tools kept the economy from grinding to a complete halt. But there are two sides to every coin: even as technology improves efficiency, it is relentlessly eating into our private lives.
Today, smartphones and instant messaging apps have become “digital shackles” on employees. The disappearance of physical boundaries is the biggest driver of burnout and anxiety in the modern workplace. Many employers send messages outside working hours, reassuring themselves that their employees “can reply when it’s convenient”. But under the combined pressure of unequal workplace power and the pressure of the “kiasu” culture, employees see any enquiry from a superior as an order demanding an immediate response. The mental strain of always being on standby reduces taking leave to a mere formality. Psychological research has long shown that being unable to “detach psychologically” while on leave causes far greater long-term harm to mental health than routine overtime.
My friend’s abrupt resignation was, in fact, an instinctive act of self-defence against management’s lack of boundaries. It also reflects a new trend in the current wave of resignations: pay and promotion are no longer the only bargaining chips of retaining talent. Instead, a toll on mental well-being and intruded personal boundaries are increasingly what drive employees to vote with their feet. Driven by the “kiasu” mentality, companies that constantly remote-control staff while they are on leave might clinch a small deal, without realising the far greater cost of losing valuable talent.
The government’s intervention through guidelines is a timely response to this persistent problem of our age. Caring for employees’ mental health is not an act of corporate charity; it is a strategic matter affecting the resilience of the national workforce. That said, government guidelines alone are nowhere near enough. A fundamental change in corporate culture is the key to breaking the impasse.
Employers and managers should reflect on the “kiasu” culture, develop a genuine understanding of boundaries, and regard respect for employees’ leave as a basic professional duty.
Rather than paying lip service to slogans, companies could start by establishing a concrete understanding within their teams: no response is expected during time off unless the matter is urgent. Amid the digital onslaught, only institutional safeguards and considerate corporate behaviour can help us reclaim those lost boundaries. Only when unplugging after work ceases to be a pipe dream can the modern worker’s restless mind truly find rest.
The writer is an IT department manager at a local company.
