‘Flashpoint’ dives into the temperature of GE2025’s political rallies—the noise, the heat, the restless undercurrent you can’t put into words. Each photographer is given full creative freedom to interpret the rallies in their own distinct style and capture the raw energy that slips past speeches and slogans.
Stephanie Lee is a photographer at RICE Media whose work unveils the raw intimacy between people and the spaces they inhabit. For this piece, she takes her Instax camera to the Singapore Democratic Party’s first rally at Choa Chu Kang Stadium (days before the Gigene Wong episode) and gets attendees to etch their hopes and dreams directly onto their portraits.
RICE does not endorse any political party in Singapore. Refer to our GE2025 content coverage policy for details.
During the election period, partisan voices are the loudest and many issues are raised.
But beyond the campaign trail, I wanted to explore something deeper: Are Singaporeans happy? What truly brings them joy? What are their hopes and dreams? Because at the heart of it all, I believe that, as humans, our deepest desire is simply to be happy. It transcends partisanship.
I chose to shoot with Instax. Because in a world of instant gratification, I wanted to use something tangible to capture something as intangible as happiness.
I wanted the focus of this coverage to be about the people on the ground—about Singaporeans—and using my Instax allowed me to collaborate with them, to make them part of the process.
By asking them to write down their hopes, dreams, and what makes them happy, it became a shared experience.
After interviewing and speaking to people on the ground, I realised that many of them came to the rally to listen to alternative voices, to hear what the opposition had to say about the current state of Singapore and how it’s being run.
The sense I got was quite varied. There were definitely people who were very unhappy with the current situation, but when I asked most of them if they were happy, they wouldn’t go as far as to say they were. Instead, they’d say they were content.
What stood out most, though, was this underlying sense of anxiety about the future.
For example, when I spoke to a retiree—the first person I interviewed—he wasn’t even concerned about himself. He told me he was fine with his life now, but he was really worried about the next generation.
Similarly, when I spoke to a family with four kids, they shared their anxieties about their future and, more so, about their children’s future.
But despite all the worries, people showed up! They were open to listening to alternative voices and solutions that could make Singapore better for everyone.
That’s why I used some glitter to create a celebratory mood. I wanted to celebrate this Singaporean spirit, not just during the election, but beyond it.
My favourite photo in this series is of a 16-year-old student, Wen Yi. She was at the rally with her parents and told me that the last time she attended one was when she was 10. Her father chimed in, mentioning that he was the one who had brought her.
I was curious to see someone so young in the field, so I went over to speak with her. Wen Yi shared that she felt a responsibility, as a Singaporean, to expose herself to the political scene. She can’t vote yet, but she believes being there will help her make a better decision five years down the road.
I thought that was very admirable. Compared to myself, I would say that at 16, I was quite apolitical. I had seen news about politics and heard my family talk about it, but I usually kept it at arm’s length. I always thought, you know what, since I don’t have to vote yet, there’s no need to get too involved. I should just focus all my energy on studying.
I only became more informed about politics when I was 21, when I was finally able to vote. Attending a Workers’ Party rally in Aljunied in 2011 really inspired me to learn more about who the candidates were, what they stood for, and the future they hoped for Singapore. So it’s heartening to see someone like Wen Yi actively wanting to learn about politics at a young age.
One moment that stood out to me was when I was in front of the crowd, trying to shoot. I was squatting and waiting for moments to happen when an uncle looked over, patted his picnic mat, and gestured for me to take a seat. I thought that was really sweet—that someone would offer their space to me so I didn’t have to squat there while taking photos.
While I was shooting, one of the SDP volunteers went up to a person with a disability. I overheard him say that Dr Paul Tambyah would like to speak with him. They then helped him move over to where Dr Paul was standing.
I also noticed how clean the field was after everyone left. I stayed until the end, and as I was walking around, I saw that it was really different from the last rally I attended, where there had been a lot of mess. This time, there wasn’t even any rubbish for us to photograph.
A line of supporters waited for Dr Chee to sign their books. All these small, intimate moments are things I wouldn’t have managed to see at bigger rallies.
I’d say that beyond political differences, at the very core, people on the ground love Singapore. That’s why they show up, why they raise issues, why they’re there to listen to alternative voices —and why they have concerns about the future and the next generation. It’s because they intend to stay and build a future here.
I also found it very hopeful. It was heartening to see young people (even those who aren’t of voting age) attending rallies, caring about national affairs, and paying attention to where Singapore is headed.
It shows they’re open, they’re listening to different perspectives, and they genuinely care about the people around them.
I do want to bring up the Gigene Wong issue. I shot these pictures before that racial slur incident. I remember having a discussion with Ilyas, our Editor-in-Chief, about whether we should still put up this story when the incident broke in the middle of the night.
In the end, we decided to go ahead. We wanted to focus on the people and the spirit of Singaporeans. And we wouldn’t want to—or I wouldn’t want to—let that incident dismiss the spirit I saw on the ground.
What Gigene Wong said was horrible (SDP and Gigene Wong have since addressed it and apologised), but the voices I captured, the hopes and dreams shared by those in the crowd, still deserve to be shared.
