The ramifications of this financial strain are profound and manifold. For one, it deters younger generations from entering the trade. Some established hawkers, like Melvin Soh of the 17-year-old hawker business Toast Hut, have closed their stalls due to staffing issues, according to news reports.

In the case of Toa Payoh zi char stall Hong Sheng Restaurant, which recently ceased operations after 50 years, older hawkers actively discourage their children from taking over. These are not isolated incidents but symptoms of a systemic problem.

However, implementing higher pricing is challenging for many hawkers. When hawker Douglas Ng raised his fishball noodle prices by 50 cents, his business dropped by 40 to 50 per cent.

How can we understand Singaporeans’ reluctance to pay for hawker food and the complex landscape of hawker food pricing?

EXPECTATIONS OF LOW PRICES

According to former head chef Nurl Asyraffie Mohamed Shukor, who now runs hawker stall Kerabu by Arang, patrons at hawker centres expect fast, cheap and filling meals.

In an 8days interview, he explains: “A lot of people don’t understand my food and they ask, ‘why is it so expensive?’ They don’t understand the work behind it. For the chicken, I need to brine it for two hours, then marinate overnight. The whole process is very tedious but they only see rice, chicken, and salted egg on the plate and think it should be S$3.”

However, this seems not to be the case for BlackGoat, a popular hawker stall serving Western-style cuisine, with prices ranging from S$9 for a brownie to S$59.50 for 495g of striploin, significantly higher than traditional local hawker fare. According to BlackGoat’s reviews, customers deem the food “value for money”.

It appears that hawker patrons expect local fare to remain cheap, but are willing to spend more money on other cuisines. Is it a case of double standards?

While Singaporeans’ reluctance to pay more for hawker food could be attributed to internalised bias - where Singaporean cuisine must justify its worth, while foreign cuisines, such as Italian or Japanese, are priced without question - the issue is more complex.

Singaporeans perceive traditional hawker food as “everyday food” rather than an occasional luxury. While fishball noodles may require more work and incur higher production costs than aglio olio, for instance, one could argue that it is the frequent consumption, rather than its lack of inherent value, that drives consumers to demand lower prices.

After all, there are successful entrepreneurs who sell local dishes at premium prices outside traditional hawker centres.

For example, the air-conditioned restaurant The Coconut Club offers their signature ayam goreng berempah nasi lemak at S$22.80, while a bowl of prawn noodle at Zhup Zhup, an open-air restaurant, ranges from S$14 to S$20.

During a recent visit to Zhup Zhup well before dinnertime, I was surprised to see most tables occupied with customers. However, for most hawkers serving traditional fare at hawker centres, the notion that prices should be kept low persists.

SHOULD HAWKER FOOD BE “EVERYDAY FOOD”?

Hawker centres provide accessible and affordable food options to all Singaporeans, rich and poor. In a 2018 National Environment Agency survey, 83 per cent of respondents said they eat hawker food at least once a week.

Hawkers are in an unenviable position as not only the providers of daily sustenance for Singaporeans, but also protectors of a UNESCO-recognised intangible cultural heritage. With chronic diseases such as diabetes and heart disease on the rise, there is an additional responsibility for hawkers to serve healthy options.

Is it reasonable to thrust these burdens on hawkers? Should hawker food still be considered everyday food, and hence kept cheap amid the high cost of living in Singapore?

In discussions on hawker food pricing, one cannot neglect the elephant in the room: Rent. In response to my commentary on the necessity for hawkers to raise their prices, some netizens suggested that increased hawker prices and consumers’ willingness to pay would only encourage landlords to further increase rental fees, leading to a cycle that does not benefit hawkers.

However, contrary to popular assertions of high hawker rents, data from the National Environment Agency (NEA) indicates that the median assessed market rent for non-subsidised market and cooked food stalls has remained at approximately S$320 and S$1,200 per month respectively since 2019, and only about 4 per cent of cooked food stalls in hawker centres are paying rent above the assessed market rate.

Proponents of keeping hawker prices low also argue that raised hawker food prices would disproportionately affect lower-income households. However, here’s the irony: The typical earnings of hawkers themselves fall within the second lowest income decile.

AN UNEXPECTED SOLUTION

Having lived in Australia and currently residing in the Netherlands, I’ve observed that it’s common for locals to leave work punctually at 5pm or 6pm, allowing ample time to shop for groceries and cook at home. While affordable food options exist in these countries, they are not comparable to Singapore’s hawker food, which is accessible and fully integrated around workplaces and in housing estates.

In countries where eating out is expensive and people are compelled to cook, a shift in working culture is demanded. However, in Singapore, the situation is reversed: Hawker food greatly conveniences and subsidises the lives of Singaporeans.

To safeguard our hawker food culture, one of the solutions might be hiding in plain sight. We will need a healthier working culture - one that encourages Singaporeans to cook more at home, like that in other developed countries. While it may seem counter-intuitive, I believe that this cultural change would not only alleviate the pressure on hawkers to provide low-cost meals, but also potentially go a long way in preserving the trade for the future.

The debate about hawker food prices elicits complicated emotions in me. As someone who grew up on S$3 chicken rice and 50-cent char siu bao, the abundance of affordable yet superlatively good hawker food has always been a point of pride when speaking about my homeland or hosting international guests.

The confluence of good food and low prices in a developed country is so uniquely Singaporean. Yet as the hawker situation grows increasingly dire, I catch myself when I laud this.

Because when we talk about the affordability of hawker food as one of its key defining traits, or when we relish being a First World country where superb meals can be had at Third World prices, what are we celebrating?