Singapore’s success story is closely tied to the ideal of meritocracy. We are taught that hard work, ability and perseverance should determine success, regardless of one’s background. For many Malays, this principle resonates deeply. It reinforces the belief that progress should be earned rather than inherited.
Yet there is another factor that plays a significant role in career advancement and social mobility that is sometimes viewed with suspicion: social capital.
Social capital refers to the networks, relationships and trust that people build over time. It is the former colleague who recommends you for a role, the mentor who introduces you to industry contacts, or the business owner who connects you with a potential client. While such practices are commonplace, some Malays remain hesitant to leverage these connections for fear of appearing entitled or being labelled a “nepo baby”.
This concern is understandable. Nobody wants their achievements to be attributed solely to who they know rather than what they can do. However, in our desire to uphold meritocracy, we may sometimes misunderstand what meritocracy actually requires.
Meritocracy was never intended to mean that individuals must navigate life entirely on their own. Rather, it is the principle that opportunities and advancement should ultimately be determined by ability, effort and performance. In practice, merit and social capital are not opposites. Merit determines who deserves to succeed; social capital often determines who gets noticed.
The reality is that many opportunities are discovered through networks. Jobs, partnerships, mentorships and leadership opportunities frequently arise because someone was willing to make an introduction or recommendation. Refusing to participate in these networks out of fear of criticism can place individuals at a disadvantage in a world where relationships matter.
This is where it is important to distinguish between social capital and nepotism.
Nepotism occurs when someone receives an opportunity regardless of their qualifications or competence. Social capital, on the other hand, provides access rather than guarantees success. A referral may help someone secure an interview, but it cannot ensure they perform well. A mentor may open a door, but they cannot walk through it on someone else’s behalf. Ultimately, the individual must still prove their worth.
For the Malay community, this distinction matters. Much attention is rightly placed on education and skills development, but qualifications alone do not always translate into opportunities. Young professionals benefit from mentors who can guide them through unfamiliar industries.
Entrepreneurs need introductions to customers, investors and strategic partners. Students gain exposure through alumni and professional networks. These forms of social capital can accelerate social mobility and help talented individuals realise their potential.
Critics argue that relying on networks can perpetuate inequality. There is some truth to this. When opportunities circulate only within small, exclusive circles, those without access can be left behind. This concern lies at the heart of criticisms surrounding “nepo babies” and inherited privilege.
Yet the answer is not to reject social capital altogether. Doing so would be akin to rejecting education because some people have access to better schools. The solution is not to eliminate the advantage but to broaden access to it. Instead of discouraging networking, mentorship and professional introductions, we should ensure that more people have opportunities to benefit from them.
This is especially important for a community that seeks to uplift itself collectively. Successful Malays should not feel guilty about mentoring younger professionals, making introductions or sharing opportunities. Likewise, aspiring Malays should not feel embarrassed about seeking advice or leveraging community networks. These are not acts of entitlement. They are examples of a community investing in its own people.
Of course, there must be limits. Social capital should never be used to lower standards, excuse incompetence or exclude more deserving individuals. The credibility of any network depends on the quality of the people it supports. A recommendation should help someone earn consideration, not guarantee an outcome.
Ultimately, the test of meritocracy is not whether someone received an introduction. It is whether they can justify the opportunity through their capabilities and contributions. A recommendation may get someone through the door, but only performance will keep them there.
The Malay community should therefore stop viewing social capital with undue suspicion. Used ethically, it is not a shortcut around meritocracy but one of the ways merit finds opportunity. The challenge is not whether we should leverage our networks, but whether we are willing to use them responsibly to create pathways for capable individuals to succeed.
The Indigenous Narrative 