Post 1: Arrival and Early Observations

The Singapore Diaries: Observations of a Multinational


1. Plastic Apples: Arrival and First Impressions 
Wednesday, September 5th I arrived on a Qantas Airlines A380 from London, the new double-decker plane. An Australian airline filled mostly with Australians, I began to get a sense of the spheres of influence in the non-British, non-American corner of the world. Australia, it seems, spreads its influence deep into the airline hubs of South East Asia, crucial stopovers on the way to Europe and beyond. My first impression of Singapore, as is the case with most cities, is the airport. Unremarkable other than its calm and quiet – “There are no announcements in Singapore airport”, said a member of the flight crew. Would that be too unruly?

Inside the terminal was an assortment of Easterners and Westerners, ladies with headscarves, businessmen talking into mobile phones, and backpackers on their way to here or there. A microcosm, perhaps, of the Port of Singapore, a collector of people and things from anywhere on their way to anywhere, but only here (whatever here is), briefly.

 The equatorial heat. It doesn’t so much as ‘hit you’ as embrace you like a humid hug. It got into my nostrils and organs immediately. It does, to use a cliché, feel like being inside a greenhouse at a botanical garden, though inverted: outside is the greenhouse, and inside, the sterile air conditioning. The air smelled of burning: I was told later this is the season of wildfires in the rainforests of Indonesia, which lead to haze and poor air quality in Singapore. Still, it gave Singapore a ‘smell’ which I will always associate with my first days there. The road from the airport to the city gave my first glimpse of the ‘garden’ that is Singapore: a sort of Le Corbusien urban landscape of unremarkable, homogenous high-rises set above carefully landscaped gardens and large, mature trees. Altogether attractive and seductive, if rather bland. Each bend in the road reveals a similar scene, there are not many landmarks and the topography is flat. There are, however, some exceptions. Getting closer to the ‘city’ revealed a towering, unique skyline and the signature Marina Bay Sands hotel and Esplanade performing arts centre which together give Singapore a ‘heart’ not unlike the great front doors of Millennium Park in Chicago or New York’s Battery.

 It was not long before I discovered my first Hawker Centre – the ubiquitous food courts in Singapore that serve everything from recognizable chains (Wendys, McDonalds) to local food vendors with Indonesian, Malaysian, Chinese, and ‘Western’ options. I had a ‘Congee’ for dinner (which is a slimy soup) which settled my stomach and a sort of puff pastry.

I settled into my hotel room and began the task of orienting myself and overcoming jetlag, whilst keeping up with the American politics entering an electoral frenzy. My first full day in Singapore involved travelling to my ‘home’ for 6 months, the graduate housing at the National University, and getting registered and administered on campus. I found the campus and associated infrastructure not unlike other universities, if more contextual to tropical geography and Asian-style green glass high rises. The student body is mixed, like the city itself, Eastern and Western. Blond hair and straight dark, German being spoken and Mandarin. I was ‘processed’ at various departments and could not figure out if the bureaucracy of the university was uniquely Singaporean, or similar to the often baffling bureaucratic processes at universities in the West (King’s and Cornell, much the same). “Go here” said one person, when I asked where a certain store was, selling a cable I needed for my laptop. Once there, someone else said “Not here, go there.” And so on. Sort of Orwellian and Terry Gilliam-esque, this place where nobody knows everything, only what they are expected to know. Ask beyond the script, and they scratch their head. Is this endemic to Singapore, or only to clerical staff at this (and perhaps all ) universities?

 Walking in the heat, unaccustomed to it, is a struggle. It is deceptive: the temperature is no hotter than a hot London day or certainly the North Carolina summers I grew up with. But the humidity is extreme, and the heat pervades, slows, and wilts. One begins to feel an almost malarial delirium. The pace of the place has been described as a ‘languid Hong Kong’, and I see this.

 What is real? It is hard to discern, so early in my journey here, what is Singaporean, and what is not. What is real, unique, and what is false? The place names are English (Kent, Commonwealth, Dover). The architecture is institutional. The food, pan-Asian. The vegetation is tropical, but could just as easily be Panama or the Congo. The streetscape is vaguely Panama City, minus the slums and beggars. The buses are double-decker. Is this a tropical Vancouver, an Equatorial Seoul? What IS Singapore? Is it defined by this definitive mix of things, or is there a soul buried deep in the dense vegetation, ensconced within the customised interiors of the unremarkable high rises?

 As I waited in the air conditioned office of the ‘management’ of my graduate residence hall for various paperwork to be filled out, I walked over to what appeared to be a basket of juicy, ripe, green apples. Eager for a snack and a quick boost of blood sugar, I picked one up. Giggles from the management desk. “They are plastic apples”, said the student assistant. Looking closer, I saw that they were not real apples at all.

  2. Clementi: The Heartland (September 6th)

I have read about a certain divide within Singapore, between the ‘City’ and the ‘Heartland.’ The City is cosmopolitan and global; creative and connected. The ‘Heartland’ is more conservative, traditional, and largely Chinese, with regional Asian minorities (but few Westerners). There is, according to local literature, a clash of values and ideals between the outwardly focused ‘City’ and the more inwardly focused Heartland. My PhD thesis focuses on this clash, in terms of how policy relates to the differences within and across Singaporean society and Singaporean neighbourhoods.

 The overriding policy set is one relating to ‘creativity’, a word that has come to associated with ‘being’ cosmopolitan, ‘being’ progressive, and looking outward toward global influences, rather than inward. How are ideas that come from other places interpreted in Singapore? And within Singapore, how are ideas interpreted in the ‘cosmopolitan’ City Centre, verses the traditional heartland? The National University of Singapore is certainly a cosmopolitan and connected enclave in Singapore, with its microcosm of students, researchers and faculty from all over the world. It continues to gain accolades for its academic excellence, and its research standing sees it crawling into the top 30 global universities. Geographically, however, it is somewhat disconnected from the global ‘hub’ of Singapore’s ‘city’, and surrounded by what seem to be more traditional, middle and lower-middle class ‘heartland’ neighbourhoods. Surely the faculty and research staff live nearby, but the university itself seems more or less self-contained.

 Walking outside the confines of the university campus, searching for some amenities I needed such as a pillow, instant coffee, a spoon and sunscreen, I quickly found myself in a disorientating suburban landscape of wide roads and repetitive housing blocks. This, Western Singapore, is how most Singaporeans live and these spaces are the most common in the City-State. Clementi is a town centre focused around a transport station (Clementi MRT and bus interchange). Like most ‘neo urban’ town centres, there is a modern mall adjacent to the MRT station, then some lower-rise, older shopping and entertainment spaces, including some bric a brac market stalls (useful for the home-wares I was looking for) and a number of food courts (hawker centres) with everything from traditional Chinese restaurants to air conditioned frozen yoghurt shops.

 Surrounding the town centre are lumpy clusters of high-rise housing estates that seemed neither rich nor poor, though in various states of presentation: some look nicer than others, some are clearly very new and others are 20 to even 30 years old. These are the homes of mid-level pencil pushers and clerical workers, lower-level assistances, and in the older, less-plushly landscaped towers, probably immigrants and domestic workers, construction laborers, and even PhD students. I realized, walking around, that I have found one of my case study sites. I was looking for a site of ‘average, everday’ Singapore, the kind of place and space in which the majority live, shop, and hang out. The Heartland. And Clementi, only a few blocks from the National University’s rarefied air, is the Heartland. In one of the shopping centres I passed a chi chi looking restaurant that seemed out of place: a slick sushi house that could have been mistaken for Nobu or something in London’s West End. A sign out front said “Bringing the ‘City Experience’ to the Heartland.” A ha. How, then, are urban policies promoting cosmopolitanism and ‘creativity’ brought to the ‘Heartland?’ and How are they interpreted, used, and performed? Are they ignored? Contested? Subverted? Discarded, or disliked?

These are the types of things I will be looking for in my walks and observations. On my walk back from Clementi to the National University’s cluster of graduate housing, darkness had fallen, and I lost my bearings. I passed Mosques and saw men at their evening prayers. I passed schools, some with English names (Holy Cross) and others with Mandarin characters. I waited at huge intersections, given only seconds to cross 8 lanes of traffic.

Weighed down by the evening humidity and the sameness of the landscape, I slowly realized I had no idea how to get back. An urban landscape so devoid of difference and remarkable landscapes, possible to navigate during the day, suddenly became impossible at night. I was lost. After walking in what seemed like two circles and ready to hail a cab, I finally realized that I could see the towers of the National University (amongst the hundreds of other towers) and found my way back. Exhausted and sweating, carrying several bags of spoons, coffee cups, deodorant and sunblock, I swiped my access card and left South East Asia as I re-entered global academia.

 I passed by the Yale University dorms, and noticed two very preppy looking blond men practicing racquetball or squash (or something) in a multi-purpose sports hall. What a strange place, so different and yet so similar, seemingly no place and yet all places at once. Walking through Singapore is like walking from the tropics to London, from Indonesia to China, from colonialism to post colonialism in the space of a few miles. A wonderful place to study urbanism and urban processes, a fact I already knew based on my reading but reinforced through only one day of wandering. No need to compare other cities to Singapore when it can be compared over and over again, in so many ways, with itself. What secrets are here? What answers?

  3. Be Creative, Be Spontaneous (7th Sept)

 One of the new high rises in the ‘University Town’ extension of NUS has the giant letters “CREATE” on it (Which is an acronym for whatever activities take place within the building, Centre for Researcher Excellence and something or other). I found this interesting given the topic of my research. Create, ok, but what? It is not hard to see creativity in various forms in Singapore, even based on the two days I have yet been here. The hawker centres, for example: these are all similar in layout and offering, but offer little variations that make them all interesting , unique, and different. Each food stall has a twist, a slightly different display, a slightly different recipe. One might have boxes of beers arranged in a certain way; dishes displayed in a particular way to entice passerbys. Conversations differ from table to table; westerners mingle with each other over some beers at once, while a family sits, speaking Mandarin, at another. Are these the ‘unofficial’ sites of creativity in Singapore? Hawker centres might be the most Singaporean assemblage. Yet what goes on within the monolithic housing estates requires a careful unpeeling. Are there starving artists within them? Are there discussions about culture? And what kind of discussions? What kind of culture?

  4. Influences

 Early on, I am getting a sense of the spheres of influence here. Picture a people-less patch of mud, rainforest and swamps. This came first. Then the Malay Kings and the conquering Pirates of this jungle Archipelago. Then the Chinese and the British (19th Century). These two influences are still strong and manifest physically and culturally in all walks of life.  The Muslim influence is also very present, from 21st century Malaysia and Indonesia, with headscarves, mosques and Madrassas a visible minority presence. This cultural aspect will come across in various ways. Indians (very dark, visibly from the South and Sri Lanka) are also common, both as students / researchers / faculty and also as poorer laborers (seemingly much of the construction workforce). They are Hindu (recognizable from the forehead markings) and therefore would be culturally more tied into the Hindu world than the Muslim (or Confucian). The Western influence is mixed British, European, Australian, and American. So far, European and Australian seem to be, at least visibly, more influential than American. This comes as a bit of a surprise, given the strength and reach of American academia and business. But the American end may simply be newer, and Australia, at least geographically, is closer. It may be more common for Australian students to head to Singapore given the relative paucity of Australian universities. And a 10 hour plane ride is easier than 2 days of travel (necessary for British or American).

 It will be interesting to see if this might change given the recent announcement for Qantas airlines to move their hub from Singapore to Dubai. What is the importance of airline hubs / flows / networks? Given Singapore’s historical role as a ‘port’ of various forms, it could be very important indeed. There are other influences.

I picked up a flier for an Israeli Film Festival, of all things (there is, and has always been, a Jewish community here - as there is in all trading ports, from Mumbai to Panama City). Israel and Singapore though are linked in other ways - small in land, compulsory military service, creativity in water and resources, surrounded by Muslim nations, a high-tech economy, both new nations (Israel since 1948 and Singapore since 1965). Interesting. The question in terms of policy mobilities and assemblages then becomes, what is more influential in Singapore: physical movements of people (those coming here to study and work, those travelling to and from) versus the immaterial movement of IDEAS (on the internet, from research, etc?). More on this later.

  5. Wanderings. Saturday, 8th September.

A. Day

 Chinatown Peeling Colonial buildings next to crossfit gyms. Little Buddhist Temples smelling of incense next to Digital Media companies and male grooming spas. White Westerners jog by as a Chinese man brushes his teeth using a pail of wash water in a back alley. Dead cockroaches hide next to the pedestal of a trendy coffee shop, with newspaper clippings and accolades in the window. Restaurants called “Beaujolais” and ‘The Club” next to old Chinese women making cakes and dumplings and selling bric a brac,.

 The 'City'

 The ‘City’ everywhere looks and feels the same. Singapore, Canary Wharf, Chicago on a hot day. The glass buildings, brands, the streets, the plazas and the ‘lunch courts’ all look and feel the same and render context and latitude obsolete. Without the views of the water or Mandarin-covered shopfronts, Singapore is Midtown Manhattan, ‘The Loop’ Chicago, Charlotte, and Downtown Sydney. Sri Lankan and / or Bangladeshi men sitting on sidewalks without their shoes, eating lunch with their hands. They, with their bright shirts, dark skin, and saffron food, are the only real color, disorder, and spontaneity amidst the city’s monolithic nothingness and unrecognizable everywhereness.

 B. Night

 Singapore glistens, twinkles, pulses at night, and the centre of the activity is Chinatown. Those that come to see and be seen fill the tropical evening like fireflies. Gays saunter next to packs of tourists, locals and expats alike amidst architecture that, especially at night, evokes Colonial romance (even if it is at time erzats). This must be Singapore at its best, its most fun – away from the relentless heat of midday and the corporate lunch. Is a Saturday evening Singapore’s soul? And it started to rain. Big, fat raindrops the size of dimes, that wet you to the core immediately, and it feels wonderful and cleansing. The pores clear, sweat washes away and the rain even tastes good. Running, I get to the air conditioned and spotless MRT just as my shirt begins to soak. And smiling.

  6. Cruel Heat, Cruel Bureaucracy (Tuesday, 12th September) 

Martha Stewart (yes, that Martha Stewart), remarked about Singapore’s ‘Cruel Heat’ upon a recent visit (Straits Times). Locals got defensive. Martha’s sentiment was pure. To me, coming from a ‘never too hot, never too cold’ London, Singapore’s equatorial humidity is all encompassing. It’s not unlike a North Carolina August afternoon, except it is that way every single day of the year. Evenings are bearable, even pleasant; so are mornings.

But midday can be deceptive – the sun and twinkling palms beckons one outdoors, yet even a short walk can drain me of energy so much that taking a step becomes difficult. It is not just the heat; it is the constant switching into the falsely cool and dry world of air conditioning, on which this nation relies (even with the fans, human-propelled in Victorian times; the Verandas, the rainy evenings, I cannot fathom how over-dressed Victorians settled here before the air conditioning). My body tires from switching cool to hot and I have been falling asleep before 10pm each night. Perhaps this is a natural tropical rhythm I will get used to, perhaps over time my body will adjust. While I’ve convinced myself that I need the air conditioning (I am not sorry that I paid extra for it), another part of me realizes that I’d adjust faster and feel better outside if I had only a fan (which really is sufficient). The Singaporeans wear sweatshirts and fashionable London clothes about town. Even dark colors. I cannot believe how they do it don’t sweat. But, if this is all the body knows… four seasons and a biting winter wind is probably as foreign to them as this heat is to me.

 I have spent the past week getting used to my surroundings and acclimatizing in more ways than one. I have made an effort to walk around the city centre and the ‘main’ Central areas, and have covered a fair bit of ground. The only significant portion yet missing is Little India, as well as the Eastern Beaches. I will save this for when I need to head that way anyway to apply for my student pass at the ICA – Immigration and Customs Authority. Which brings me to my next point – er gripe.

Singapore’s famously fastidious and slow-moving, Terry Gilliam-esque paper-pushing, pencil grinding bureaucracy has not yet annoyed me (it seemed friendly and efficient!) until now. It seems like every decision – every question – every ok and process – runs up against a ‘do not ask questions, do not seek alternative routes’ system which would be maddening long term.

 For example: I’ve learned to always carry my passport and bank details, for these are apparently needed for purchases including a cheap throw away phone. By the time I’m finished, every business in Singapore will have a scanned copy of my passport photo. Which would unsettle me if it wasn’t Singapore, and I didn’t already assume I was being monitored. Another example: my student pass. The ‘Student Pass’ is basically an extended visa for those studying here for a period longer than the 3 months allocated for a regular visit. Seems simple enough. I had begun the application process (and paid the money) over the summer, and was prepared to “Complete the formalities’” this week by showing up at the ICA and submitting my paperwork. 

Wrong. It turns out that because I arrived later in Singapore, my application had expired (and I lost all $30!). Therefore, I had to begin the process all over again, and pay another $30. As of this writing, I am still waiting for my (second) application for a student pass to be processed and I am unsure whether or not I will be in possession of my passport for my planned trip to China next week, or whether I am breaking some (death penalty inviting) rule by simply existing in the country without my pass at this point. I suppose I will find out after the line-managers of State Affairs have all played a round of Chinese Whispers and get back to me. 

***

Singlish. Singlish is not English. It is the local patois, a pidgin English combined with every other ‘ethnic seasoning’ here, Malay, Mandarin, probably bits and pieces of Javanese and Tamil thrown in for good measure. It is often indecipherable. If the majority of locals speak and understand English, which I’m sure they do, they often throw their hands up at my careful accent and toss back something mumbled and spoken in low tones. Perhaps I should work on my Singlish if I hope to communicate with locals here during my ethnography and interviews.

 I’m learning how to ‘get around the system’. Shh, don’t tell anyone. I’ve started jaywalking. It’s too hot for me to walk all the way up or down hill to the official ‘crossings’, so I’ve started to cross the street when I please. I’ve seen other people do it, and they haven’t been carted away by men in a black truck. The Graduate Club. A lovely-looking, air conditioned gym and pool, the kind of place I could take my mom if she came to visit. Palms, bouganvillia and the clinking of real silverware. To join, though, one has to be in Singapore for ‘At least a year.’ So, that’s how long I’ll be here (shh!) if it means I get to swim in and lie by a nice pool.

 Still , some questions can’t be asked, and some rules can’t be broken. For example, back to the ICA and my student pass: asked the university registrar to the bureaucrat, “Can the student simply bring his stamped, expired letter to the ministry for his student pass, and can he get a refund for the application he already had processed?” Curt reply: “No, the student cannot.” Such is life in a managerial State.

  7. William Gibson and ‘Disneyland with a Death Penalty’

The British science fiction novelist William Gibson said of Singapore that it resembled what a country would look like if entirely possessed by IBM. Another writer called Singapore ‘Disneyland with a death penalty.’ Yes, the penalty for smuggling drugs into Singapore is death. Which is harsh, no doubt about it. But I have seen enough day laborers napping on hot sidewalks, (small) piles of trash and even (yes!) some graffiti to remark that Gibson is being typically British about a former colony.

In fact, Singapore does not really run any more efficiently than other cities of this size – it has problems with traffic, pollution, social tensions, housing prices, and even some blight and buildings in a state of disrepair. If it is run by a computer, then it is run by an imperfect one.

 The people that I have observed, walking about the streets, coming to and from the gym staring into their pads and pods and phones, standing in clumps on the Metro, seem very serious. There does not seem to be a whole lot of spontaneous laughter. This is true even on campus, with its relative diversity and large American / European / Australian community. Serious students! Serious conversations. Theories: this is a financial center, and many of the workers I’ve seen, students I’ve observed and even academics are related to business and the other ‘serious’ disciplines. Read: there aren’t a lot of hippies here, or the types of groups / activities / clubs / neighborhoods that attract hippies. There isn’t any cocaine (maybe some in elite circles) and very little ‘hard’ drinking. No marijuana to speak of. Some cigarette smokers. Does this lack of inebriation and other vices ‘erase’ the haphazard laughter, boisterous braying and annoying shrieking so common to British and American cities? Or is the reason cultural? (Confucian, Buddhist, Muslim traditions of quiet conversation and general calm?) Or, as I perceived above, does it relate to the percent of ‘serious’ MBAs more concerned with learning how to trade oil and futures than having fun?

 The memory of Michael Fay, the American douchebag who famously was caned 12 times due to drunk and disorderly conduct, may be fresh in people’s minds. Laugh, but not too loud: have fun, but not too much. On one hand, the quiet, respectful demeanor is refreshing, especially coming from the bottle-smashing, fight and booze splattered streets of British central cities, so full of street piss and piles of garbage that it becomes noxious. There are no crackheads asking for money (and I haven’t seen an opium den). It is equally, however, unsettling. The calm and quiet, combined with the heavy, oppressive air and humidity, must cause a breaking point in some. The rigidness is yes, distinctly Asian (Chinese) but also carries over a leftover of Victorian British repression – a possibly fateful combination that I think explains much about the City-State. 

There are, as I have mentioned, exceptions and dots of color and surprises, and these tend to be the other ethnicities. Namely, Indian – who seem to have a spice that is slightly more romantic, smiling, embracing, and warm. Not to trade stereotypes here. But this does perhaps come from Indian social and cultural traditions, the traditions of communal, inclusive dining (such as at a Sikh Temple). And the great Indian ‘fete’, the lavish wedding, the happy dancing and celebrations.

 The Western expatriates, as I mentioned, so far do not seem to breathe a celebratory and spontaneous air into things. Quite the opposite, they seem as driven, serious, and reserved as the Singaporeans. New mothers seriously pushing serious babies. Bored and rather lonely looking white bankers, perhaps checking out dating sites on whatever flat pad pod they are using while having a solitary beer. Serious business students. Singapore may attract a certain ‘type’ of person, not prone to serious partying of ‘joie de vivre’ing. The ‘Creative Class’? Or not? From what I’ve observed, not. Unless you call a day trader creative.

 That said – there are yet layers to peel. And I think, (as China Mieville writes and my mother reminded me,) a “City and the City”. There are things here that cannot be observed at street level or in the public realm. What happens in the home, at the private party, or behind the unmarked, closed doors of the various sites of sin and vice that still (and have always ) dot the lanes of this port, may be very different. The Victorian British, those staunch, starched and dour protestants, were very good at living two lives – one of public respectability, and another of vice, indulgence, and even perversion and grotesque. The Chinese too – with their importance on respect and adherence to social codes – must have back door debauchery up their sleeve. I believe languid Singapore, with its rules and codes, is layered and textured, a ‘City and a City’. At least this is my hope.

  8. Those that Singapore ignores, and those it forgets

 Just as conspicuously absent as boorish drunks and punks and misfits are the socially downtrodden, the insane, the self mutterers and the generally shit out of luckers. And yet, this can’t be the case: every society has those who simply cannot and do not fit in, for reasons of unfortunate birth or some other malady. And those who get too old to walk, or begin to lose their grip. I have not yet seen these people.

 I’ve seen many elderly people, walking slowly, but still able to navigate the Metro system and go about their duties. I have not seen that person stinking of odour and generally understood to be ‘not with it’. They have to be here. They exist everywhere. They are us, with a few circuits shorted. It must be hard for them here. I have read that the elderly have it hard in Singapore. There is no state welfare system, no state homes for the old. They are taken care of by family and various private charities and philanthropic organisations. I saw as one old woman, able to stand but just barely, came onto the Metro at one station. She hobbled over to the seat that is ‘reserved’ for the elderly, the pregnant, and the disabled (shown in diagrams above the seat). A young woman was sitting in the seat, glued to her pid pad pod thing. She did not so much as look up and acknowledge this older woman, who hovered over her hopefully for a few minutes, without saying a word. After some time, she hobbled down the car to another one of the ‘reserved’ seats, and this time, a younger (but not much!) man got up to allow her to sit.

Is this the life of a ‘past due’ Singaporean, no longer able to work and help build the model society? Are they simply quiet, reduced to a form of ‘begging’, not for money, but for a seat on the train? Are Singaporeans, once grown stale like a rancid banana or an old pair of shoes, tossed away?

 Surely this cannot be the case for a nation who look up to, still, the founding father, Lee Kwan Yew, who is approaching 90 years old. Still referred to as ‘Dear Leader’ by many who grew up under his premiership in the 1970s and 1980s, Yew has a mythical and legendary status here, like a modern day Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and George Washington all combined into one. Does the average grandmother command such respect? What, generally, does command respect here?