Limited Halal food options on campus spark debates about inclusivity, supply, and the responsibilities of institutions.
“Many of us feel the same way, like how everything nowadays is about Chinese privilege, but we can’t voice our concerns for fear of getting cancelled,” reads an anonymous post on NTU Confessions.
As I momentarily put aside the cognitive leap it takes to connect Muslim students’ concerns about the scarcity of Halal food options—sometimes requiring a 15-20 minute walk—to fears of cancel culture, I realized that after Mothership’s article on limited options at Nanyang Technological University (NTU) was published, the discussion was bound to light up platforms like Facebook, Reddit, and Twitter.
And indeed, it did.
Before diving further, let me clarify that this article is not aimed at offering new solutions—many ideas have already been proposed. Suggestions like incentivizing canteen operators to help food stall owners, who don’t use pork or lard, apply for Halal certification have been mentioned. These could include waivers or rebates to offset the additional costs of operating a Halal food stall.
However, even with rebates, challenges remain, such as the requirement for at least two permanent Muslim employees to obtain Halal Training Certificates. This is particularly difficult for smaller canteen businesses in “Pulau NTU,” as the university is known, given its isolated location far from the rest of Singapore.
But the lack of Halal food options isn’t new. Independent student paper Soapbox.sg recently highlighted this issue, and in 2019, the now-defunct Nanyang Chronicle reported on it as well.
What’s particularly interesting, however, is how this conversation has evolved in light of society’s growing focus on inclusivity and social justice.
Understanding the Bigger Picture
It’s natural to try and understand the status quo by analyzing the factors that led us here. But blind adherence to so-called objectivity can cause us to lose sight of the bigger picture.
The most common rationale for the lack of Halal options in NTU and other institutions is supply and demand—if the demand is low, the supply follows suit.
However, as with any economic model, this is a simplified version of reality, ignoring other critical considerations.
Shouldn’t institutions committed to diversity back up their words with action? Shouldn’t they ensure that students, who pay to be part of their community, have convenient access to Halal food on campus without needing to trek 15 minutes between classes for a meal?
Another argument is that the number of Halal stalls should be proportionate to the number of Muslim students on campus. This reasoning mirrors policies like the Ethnic Integration Policy (EIP) for Housing Board Development (HDB) flats, which aim to maintain a balanced mix of ethnic groups.
In theory, this could mean one or two Halal stalls for every 10, but as accounts have shown, this standard is often unmet.
Unpacking the Discourse
While some of the arguments surrounding the issue don’t stem from malice, ignorance plays a large role.
Comments like “My friend Khairul just avoids pork and lard; why is this such a big deal?” or “I see many Malay students drinking alcohol, so why the fuss over Halal food?” reflect a lack of understanding rather than outright hostility.
Though this ignorance is not excusable, it may be rooted in a lack of exposure to different races—particularly for students from Special Assistance Plan (SAP) schools, who have limited interaction with peers from other ethnic backgrounds.
A recurring sentiment in discussions is that Muslim students, being a minority, should not expect the entire campus to cater to their needs and should instead be more flexible.
But what does it say about our so-called multicultural society when people quickly dismiss valid concerns from a community that is not only a significant part of our population but also recognized as the indigenous population of Singapore, as per Article 152 of the Constitution?
For a society that prides itself on racial harmony, we seem unprepared for conversations that challenge this harmony’s superficial foundations.
Beyond Zero-Sum Thinking
It’s worth noting that having more Halal options doesn’t just benefit Muslim students—it offers more variety for everyone. I don’t frequent all five non-Halal stalls in a food court, but typically stick to the three stalls that serve food I enjoy.
So why must this issue be framed as a zero-sum game?
Making Do with Less
Muslim students interviewed in various articles often speak with a tone of resignation.
“I guess beggars can’t be choosers,” one student told Mothership. Another student quoted in the Nanyang Chronicle simply wished that NTU “could do more.”
Yet these individuals are often mischaracterized as demanding too much, despite many finding ways to make do.
The responses from NTU and its student union to Mothership were almost laughable. Measures such as encouraging food operators to “gradually apply for Halal certification” lacked clarity—whether this means offering subsidies or simply introducing vending machines and microwave ovens for Halal food remains unclear.
The debate around expanding Halal food options often reveals a misplaced notion that this is a form of affirmative action.
Affirmative action has a poor reputation in Singapore, seen by many as counter to the meritocratic ideals we hold dear.
So it’s understandable that some people view incentives for Halal food stalls as preferential treatment. Why should one stall receive extra support over another simply to cater to a religious group’s needs?
Reexamining Inter-Ethnic Solidarity
And here lies the crux of the matter: universities have a responsibility to provide for their Muslim students and staff, especially when doing so doesn’t come at a cost to others.
Yet the bureaucratic hurdles for Halal certification only add to the challenge.
What does it say about us when we believe that free-market logic should take precedence over the well-being of our fellow citizens?
We often congratulate ourselves for maintaining racial harmony, believing that just because we don’t engage in overt racism, we’ve done enough.
But the ongoing discourse about Halal food shows that, beyond surface-level harmony, what we truly lack is inter-ethnic solidarity.
When someone’s concern is simply having access to enough food options, and another’s concern is being “cancelled” for their opinions, it becomes clear whose priorities are out of place.
