When I was in secondary school, “choping” seats in the school canteen was a high-stakes game. Students armed with packets of tissue, stray pencils, or even old umbrellas would dash through the hall, hoping to claim a spot for their friends. I remember one time arriving late, only to find my carefully choped table occupied. Annoyance flared. Was it fair to save a seat for hours while others had to stand, or should I give it up to avoid conflict? John Stuart Mill’s philosophy o

When I was in primary school, Match Attax football cards were the craze. I remember rushing to the nearest 7-Eleven after class, spending pocket money on packs, hoping to find a rare limited edition card of Dele Alli or Eden Hazard. At recess, my friends and I would gather in the playground to trade cards, negotiating deals with exaggerated gestures and sly smiles. The thrill of the game often came with temptation: was it fair to trade my duplicate for someone else’s prized h

Anyone who has taken the MRT during peak hour knows the small dramas that play out around reserved seating. A young commuter stares at their phone, pretending not to notice an older passenger standing nearby. Another glances up nervously, debating whether to give up their seat. Sometimes the tension is broken when someone stands quickly and offers the space. Other times, silence stretches, and the elderly person sways unsteadily as the train jerks forward. Why does this momen