Where Life Passes in a Blur
Singapore may become the world's myopia capital
By Chris Lydgate
GUARDING THE MOUTH OF the Singapore River,
the statue of the Merlion -- a sea-creature of dubious mythological pedigree --
is one of the island's best-known landmarks. Unfortunately, more and more
residents are unable make out its finer features. The reason has nothing to do
with the haze from Indonesian forest fires, the corrosive action of acid rain
or even the glare of the tropical sun. Rather, it is because Singapore suffers
from one of the highest rates of myopia, or shortsightedness, in the world.
More than
half the Lion City's 12-year-olds need corrective lenses. And among some groups
of college students, the proportion jumps to as much as 80%. "These days,
it's not unusual to see three-year-old children with glasses," says Dr.
Uma Rajan, director of school health services for the Ministry of Health.
"It's causing us great concern."
And the
problem is deteriorating rapidly, researchers say. In the mid-1980s, roughly
30% of recruits in the Singapore Armed Forces were shortsighted. By 1993, the
figure had doubled to 62%. "There has been a dramatic increase over the
past 10 years," says Dr. Chew Sek Jin, director of the National Eye
Center. "It's worsening very quickly."
The surge in
myopia is a worldwide phenomenon and continues to baffle scientists. There is a
genetic component; shortsightedness is typically more common among Chinese than
other races. But recent studies suggest that environmental factors may be to
blame. The prime suspect: "near-work." This is the highly
concentrated vision used for reading, writing or staring at television screens,
when the object is less than 40 centimeters away. Prolonged near-work,
especially at night, makes the eyeball lengthen. This causes vision to soften
into a blur as the images of distant objects are focused at a point in front of
the retina rather than on it.
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Experts in
Singapore suspect that the city's notoriously hardworking students may be
cramming their way to myopia. Local data show that 9-year-olds spend about four
to five hours on near-work each day. That's excluding time in the classroom.
The period devoted to outdoor activities, which are thought to help stave off
shortsightedness? Less than 30 minutes. Allied with the island's compact urban
environment -- huge expanses of open space are rare -- and you get an unhealthy
"visual lifestyle," says the health ministry's Rajan.
Singapore
planners have embarked on a multi-pronged campaign to slow the trend. One
thrust takes the form of special eye exercises for primary school students --
all pupils must engage in five minutes of orbital pressure-point massage every
day. It is too early to tell if the program is effective against myopia, but
the children say their eyes feel more relaxed.
Educators are
putting more lights in classrooms, asking textbook publishers to use larger
print, and even encouraging teachers to scrawl more legibly on blackboards.
Earlier, health officials organized an exhibition aimed at debunking myths
about myopia and discouraging bad habits such as doing near-work into the
night. "The point is to try to come up with behavioral change," says
Chew. "But you can't tell the child not to read -- we cannot go back to
the dark ages."
Widespread
nearsightedness is also posing a challenge for the armed forces (all
able-bodied males are required to perform at least two years' national
service). Bespectacled soldiers may have trouble training the sights of their
guns, or retaining contact lenses in the heat and dust of battle. Sea-spray
could make it impossible for sailors to see through their glasses.
Already,
eyesight standards are being relaxed for airforce pilots. "We are very
concerned about the increase [of myopia]," says Colonel Lionel Lee, chief
of the armed forces' Medical Corps. As it is, he anticipates that soon 70% of
recruits will have defective vision. The military brass has convened a team of
experts to look into possible remedies, ranging from hardy corrective goggles
to improved contact lenses and elective surgery for specialists.
More help is
on its way. A team from the Ngee Ann Polytechnic recently developed a gadget to
curb students' habit of burying their heads in books. The device, which is
clipped to a reader's glasses, buzzes when a book is brought too close to the
face. A small measure, perhaps, but it may just help Singapore children keep
the Merlion in focus.
First
published in Asiaweek, December 1997