No Place to Work

Migrant workers are indispensable to Singapore’s economy and society, comprising about 40 per cent of its 3.4 million-strong labour force. Referring generally to those who work in a foreign country, the phrase “migrant workers” belies a wide spectrum of backgrounds and experiences. There are three main groups of migrant workers in Singapore, and their employment conditions differ widely.

As of 2022, the vast majority of Singapore’s foreign labour force—just about 1.4 million workers—hold Work Permits; they are mostly either males working in the construction and maritime industries (about 400,000), or females working as domestic workers (about 250,000). While official salary data is hard to come by, Work Permit holders tend to earn the lowest, around SGD 450 to 800 a month.

The data on fatalities and injuries shows that working in the construction sector—which is largely staffed by migrant labourers on Work Permits—involves the highest risk.

On top of being low-waged and working in high-risk work environments, the ways in which the lives and rights of migrant workers are managed by employers and the state often puts them in a disempowered state. This goes beyond just their working rights and wages, but also includes core aspects of their lives, like how they sleep, eat, drink, and socialise, or their access to healthcare. This worsened during the pandemic, especially for workers living in dormitories—in a White Paper published in 2023, the Singapore government acknowledged that they “could have eased some of the restrictions earlier”, and that not doing so had an impact on the mental health of workers.

This isn’t new or recent. Singapore has a fraught history in how it treats migrant labour. There is a tendency for Singaporeans to see migrant workers as “others” who warrant different treatment from them—not least because of policies and circumstances that keep apart the living and social spaces of migrant workers and locals. This separation creates gaps in understanding about the challenges these workers face. 

Moreover, there are two prevailing, misguided narratives that tend to make discussions about migrant workers and their working conditions in Singapore difficult. The first is that their work is inherently dangerous, and workers knowingly subscribe to this risk in return for higher pay compared to what they would earn in their home countries. The second is that existing laws and policies are sufficient, and misadventures or cases of abuse are largely the fault of errant individual employers, or “bad apples”.

In 2022, Kontinentalist supported the Migrant Death Map team to map the incidents of migrant worker deaths in Singapore. Each of the 455 dots on the map represent a reported death of a migrant worker in the past 20 years in Singapore. Further analysis of the causes of these deaths reveals sobering trends.

The Migrant Death Map team, a group of volunteer activists, manually collected data about migrant worker deaths in Singapore reported between 1 January 2000 to 3 August 2022. Each dot represents one worker. Read the methodology for more details.

There were 300 workplace-related deaths between 2000 and 2022, with the largest number of deaths and injuries in the construction industry, which largely employs male Work Permit holders. Many of these workplace-related deaths can further be attributed to similar, repeated reasons.

For male migrant workers, falling from heights is a common cause of death. This can happen when companies fail to erect blocking structures and install safety guards around holes and ledges. For example, in 2012, Zhou Shi Hong fell after the company failed to put guardrails on an open stairwell, and did not provide lifelines for workers to anchor their safety harnesses to. The company was eventually fined $150,000.

Deaths occurring from being crushed or struck by an object are the next most common, and often stem from a lack of proper training and supervision, as well as the failure to audit risks and follow protocols. In 2016, Xu Shangbin died after being struck by an excavator driven by his colleague who was unlicensed to operate it, while Venugopal Sarath Kumar died from lack of proper training for the relevant lifting task, and his company’s failure to appoint a supervisor or conduct a risk assessment. Employers for both workers were fined.

Fires and explosions similarly arise from rushed schedules and lack of proper supervision. In 2002, Anowar Hossain Kafil Uddin died from an explosion while laying pipes for the Family and Juvenile Court building, and the construction company was found to have folded before it could be charged for negligent supervision. Vehicular deaths—defined as those occurring on-site, not when workers are ferried by lorries outside of the worksite—also occur due to mismanaged worksite traffic, including failing to demarcate human-only areas.

Many of the challenges that female migrant workers face are distinctly different—they are more susceptible to domestic abuse. The case of Piang Ngaih Don, a domestic worker who came from Myanmar to support her toddler son, shows what can happen in a system that concentrates power in the hands of an employer over an individual. Tied to window grilles, starved, punched, burnt, and strangled, she lost half her body weight over the course of a year and died in 2016 at age 24. When seen by a doctor, her employer was able to play off Ms Piang’s injuries as her being “clumsy”. Justice was finally served in 2021, when the employer was sentenced to 30 years’ imprisonment.

These are neither one-off incidents, nor are they new developments. These workplace risks have been common causes of deaths for over two decades. These patterns also show up in incidences of non-fatal injuries, suggesting that the same issues are elevating safety risks across the board. It does make one wonder if these deaths and injuries can be prevented with greater safety legislation. 

Exact figures for migrant workers’ injuries are not publicly available, but between 2014 and 2021, an average of 12,770 workers (including Singaporeans) were injured every year. Most of these occurred in construction and manufacturing. 

Driving both injuries and deaths are systemic issues that stem from cost pressures, tight deadlines, and a manpower crunch. This results in the lack of adequate training, supervision, equipment maintenance, and risk audits, as well as more overtime work. Many companies still adopt a “compliance mindset”, choosing to do the bare minimum in the name of safety, or only doing things “for show”, seeing safety as a cost or optional in the service of non-negotiable profit.

Putting the blame on errant individual employers or supervisors is akin to missing the forest for the trees. What makes migrant workers vulnerable to exploitation are systemic issues and policies that amplify existing power imbalances and fail to address the underlying culture of prioritising money over lives. 

A migrant worker lives in a state of persistent uncertainty and vulnerability due to stark power imbalances, especially in the financial and legal domains. Many aspects of these workers’ health and welfare are within their employers’ control.

Financially, most workers start off in debt. They have to borrow massive amounts of money to come to Singapore, ranging from SGD 1,000 to 16,000, as they go through layers of middlemen recruitment agents who purport to cover essentials like flights and medical screenings. After deductions for expenses, there is little left for loan repayment. Workers typically take at least two years or more to repay their debts. With loan payments outstanding, they can’t afford to lose their jobs. This means that they might agree to work in unsafe or illegal work conditions, instead of whistleblowing to the authorities. 

The legal relationships between employers and workers further intensify this precarity. Their Work Permits are tied to their employer. And though the Employment Act does not allow for dismissal without notice or forced repatriation, NGOs say this does happen in practice. This concentration of power in the employer’s hands means that when employment conditions turn intolerable or abusive, it’s difficult to simply leave. 

Changing employers is also a challenge as workers must seek approval from their present employer. Since 1 July 2022, the Ministry of Manpower’s Change of Employer scheme allows migrant workers to change employers without their employer’s consent within a 40 to 21-day window before the expiration of their Work Permits. While this development allows workers to seek better working conditions, activists say the no-consent window is disadvantageous to workers in practice. It’s also worth noting that the scheme was temporarily changed during COVID-19 to alleviate the labour shortage—showing that it’s more geared towards employers than it is a means to safeguard workers.

Moreover, unlike with other categories of migrant workers, employers of Work Permit holders have far more legal and discretionary power over key decisions affecting their workers’ interests, including how a worker is paid and deciding if a worker qualifies as sick enough to get medical care. These dynamics result in an inability to change their situation when endangered, or to safeguard their well-being before things get worse. It makes the rights that are theoretically available to migrant workers on paper difficult to actualise. Expectations and reality diverge at various stages of a migrant worker’s journey.

While there are laws and processes in place, what happens in reality explains why workers may not receive key rights and benefits, and struggle to get help. Even when employers are in the wrong, the balance of power is often tilted in their favour. In the recent case of female domestic worker Parti Liyani, for example, a false accusation of theft by her former employer led to her arrest, impacting her ability to work in Singapore. It was only after an appeal that her employer was found to have committed perjury, and later, Home Affairs and Law Minister K Shanmugam noted in Parliament that there had been lapses in the investigation. In 2023, her employer, who held several high-profile positions in state-owned companies, was finally sentenced to two weeks’ jail. It took Parti about seven years, and the support of NGO Humanitarian Organization for Migration Economics (HOME) to get this result; not many others have been so “lucky”.

Legal routes are available but not perfect. For one, workers face a high risk of repatriation if they decide to take legal action against safety breaches and mistreatment. And even if they are successful in their claims, outcomes may be less than ideal.

Systemic disadvantages and the high stakes involved hinder workers from pursuing statutory routes to resolve conflicts with employers. Beyond court-provided interpreters during court proceedings, which even lawyers report can be insufficient, workers need greater support in understanding and safeguarding their rights under Singapore’s law.

Key stakeholders recognise that workplace safety can be improved. Workplace Safety and Health Council, the national statutory body representing regulators and employers, has publicly committed to “Vision Zero”, with the belief that workplace injury or related ill-health is preventable. Death rates across all workplaces in Singapore have decreased over the years, from 4.9 fatalities per 100,000 employed persons in 2004, to 1.3 in 2022. This suggests that progress is possible.

It’s an understatement to say that the situation faced by migrant workers in Singapore can be improved. Some good starting points are the systematic and coordinated prioritisation of safety; the recognition of the power imbalance and precarity enabled by existing policies; and the rejection of the placement of profits over lives.

Perhaps what is more difficult to change is how Singaporeans perceive migrant workers. As the reliance on migrant labour continues, sustainable coexistence will mean moving towards truly seeing migrants as part of Singapore society, living closer together, and welcoming their needs and welfare as priorities too. 

When Singapore accepts the reality that migrant workers are part of society, the way it deals with the issues they face will change too. For instance, when the common practice of ferrying male migrant workers to and from construction sites in lorries was criticised, the authorities insisted that there was no other choice due to costs. In 2010, a fatal incident involving migrant workers in lorries hastened the government’s call to mandate the installation of guardrails and canopies in lorries by 2011. Yet, the question remains as to whether lorries are suitable vehicles to transport human beings in the first place.

In contrast, after the death of a primary school boy in 2008, $35 million in public funds was allocated to support making seat belts compulsory in school buses. Elected representatives spoke in Parliament about the dangers of travelling in buses, arguing that it was the same as that of cars and vans. The dangers are the same or worse for those travelling in the backs of lorries. These two groups of people experience the same dangers, yet encounter different treatment.

For a cultural shift in how migrant workers’ lives and safety are thought about in Singapore, policy changes that tackle the very root of precarity and recurring risks are needed.

There’s no denying that the forces at work in creating and sustaining migrant workers’ precarity are complex. But fundamentally, policies must be made with more awareness of how discrepancies in power play out.

Extending a Work Permit to allow changing of jobs or compensating away some rest days can be done via “mutual agreement” between employers and workers. But mutual agreement provisions are susceptible to abuse, as a worker who does not appear cooperative may face punishments and threats. Moreover, issuing guidelines rather than legislature allows employers to interpret suggestions in ways that favour them. 

In this context, specifying mandatory and/or prohibited practices is key; official statements and intervention can help ensure a greater balance of power. For instance, as of 1 January this year, the Ministry of Manpower made it mandatory for female domestic workers to get at least one non-compensable rest day a month. While still seemingly little, it is a step in the right direction, which male migrant workers have yet to be afforded.

Recent policy changes have focused on making penalties more severe and stepping up proactive enforcement. One example is the Stop Work Order (SWO), which the Ministry of Manpower can issue to a contractor to stop work until identified severe safety breaches have been rectified. This is a good start as it takes the burden of identifying and reporting safety breaches away from workers.

However, such policy changes do not address underlying issues that lie in the construction industry—a lack of coordination between actors and a culture that prioritises profits. A typical construction project is very complicated, involving many contractors, each handling different aspects, like excavation, furnishing, or wiring; and a separate developer who runs the project, obtains the land and permits, finances deals, and oversees the actors. When a SWO is issued to one contractor, their deadlines downstream do not change. Cost pressures can worsen as late work is penalised by other actors in the project. A contractor might then rush even more, further worsening the safety risks.

Developers and contractors should have more effective coordination, moving their project contract terms such as deadlines in tandem when a SWO is issued. As the biggest developer in Singapore, the government along with its linked companies, has a great opportunity here to set an example for the industry.

Prioritising safety starts right from the tendering process, and the government, as the source of 60 percent of construction projects, has great leverage to influence the industry’s norms. A particularly promising way of re-aligning incentives might be to target an earlier stage in the pipeline of work by increasing the weightage of safety in the tendering process. This can counterbalance the financial penalties for late work, and complement government campaigns to help employers see that workplace safety isn't a negotiable quantity. 

More systematic collection and publishing of data about workplace safety would benefit reform efforts across the board, enabling tenderers to rank contractors, and making safety a competitive advantage. This could look like benchmarking reports—which compare metrics achieved by different companies—and publicly visible “grades” for companies, like there are for food safety. Such information would enable more people to understand what standards and practices are desirable and achievable, and signal to the relevant actors on the need to prioritise safety.

As migrant labour continues to be a key part of Singapore’s society, their safety and well-being must be made a priority rather than an afterthought. It is a human rights issue that should concern everyone in Singapore. At a basic level, migrant workers deserve better rights and better lives, more agency over their working and living conditions, and access to the right channels to seek redress and care.

We’d like to thank the Migrant Death Map team for helping to factcheck and give their comments on the story. Kontinentalist assisted with some of the data visualisations in the Migrant Death Map website, including the main map, in 2022.