From Frontier to Footnote

Field Note #002, Ground Truths, Personal Reflection

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It was a fine Wednesday morning at Marina Bay Sands, Singapore, in November 2024. I was attending the Asia-Pacific Agri-Food Innovation Summit.

I stood beside a table where I was supposed to host a roundtable on Myanmar’s current agri-food realities. The event app showed five delegates had registered. A few minutes passed — two delegates arrived. I greeted them warmly. They sat for a while waiting for others … until they realized the reality: Myanmar’s future is no longer interesting, nor relevant — at least not to this room.

I stared into the black tablecloth, blankly wondering: Could this black be any darker?

So I left the table and joined another — a session on carbon projects. After it ended, I stepped out into the garden terrace. I mindlessly stared at the skyline, a city of steel and glass, sculpted by vision and management. Not a trace of agriculture in sight. And yet, here it was — Singapore — boldly naming itself the agri-food innovation hub of the region.

I studied and lived in Singapore for seven years, mostly untouched by agriculture all those times. Yet two nights ago, at the Singapore International Agri-Food Week dinner reception, I saw something unmistakable: the pandemic, with its panic-buying and supply shocks, had taught them.

Singapore got the lesson. And it moved.

What happened to us?

I’ve heard the usual: “Because Singapore is small” narrative. I’ve read Nassim Taleb’s “Small Is Beautiful” argument. Still, I believe what shapes destiny isn’t size — it’s coherence.

And what tears Myanmar apart?

Division. Distrust. Dysfunction. Disorientation.

Where Singapore built alignment, Myanmar broke apart under the weight of estrangement — between institutions and citizens, science and decision-makers, local producers and global value chains.

The fracture is not in our capacity — it is in our collective orientation.

That moment brought me back to 2019 — when MILS hosted Myanmar’s first Food Safety Forum of that scale. Over 500 stakeholders joined us. Government leaders, food producers, scientists, development partners, civil society. Unlike today’s table — that room was full. Hopeful. Hungry for possibilities.

Back then, Myanmar felt like a frontier — not a footnote.

The contrast struck me hard. From full halls to empty chairs. From rising momentum to retreating interest.

But what I mourn is not the absence of delegates — it’s the disappearance of shared imagination.

I know — it’s not ideal to begin this section of my blog with a bleak picture.

But then again, isn’t that what Ground Truths are for?

Not to soothe. Not to spin.

But to name the terrain as it is — before we try to walk it.

Reality is not always convenient. But if we refuse to accept it, we lose our compass.

And only by naming the ground beneath our feet, can we begin to shape what rises from it.