Reflections in the South China Sea.

(Another Blog from "way back", this time 1999)

Situated off the North East Coast of Singapore Pulau Ubin (Ubin Island) is a welcome escape from the tower blocks and air conditioning roar of down town Singapore. You get to it by "bum boat" from Changi Jetty, just a few miles from the notorious prison that the Japanese used with such brutality during the occupation. Bum boats, - "floating shacks" is the best way I can describe them, ply the short crossing to the Island for a dollar fifty Singapore (about 50p).
Landing at Pulau Ubin jetty is like stepping back 50 years. Except for the bicycle hirers, nothing seems to have changed since the Japanese surrendered in 1945. Bicycles have come to Singapore before of course, during that period of colonial arrogance, when the British surrounded Singapore harbour with naval guns and troops, ready for a sea-borne landing by the Imperial Army. The Japanese just got on their bikes, and cycled down the Malay Peninsular, over the causeway and in to Singapore. The British forces, I'm not sure whether through surprise or embarrassment, promptly surrendered and marched in to Changi Prison (presumably led by Alec Guinness and whistling "Colonel Bogey"). Watching the newsreels from that period, especially the one of the signing of the British surrender, you can see the look of disbelief in the Japanese officers' eyes that it was so easy. History probably tells us now that this extreme act of pragmatism by the British Officers was correct, but the few remaining men who suffered the deprivations and brutality of Changi and that terrible railroad may have a different perspective on the decision.
But back to 1999 and Pulau Ubin. You hire a bike now; the choice is from dodgy ones at $3 up to top range ones with suspension at $13. I went for a mid range one at $6.
Ubin is a patch of rain forest, a granite quarry, tropical beaches and a few villages. It is sanitised rain forest with tarmac tracks and road signs, really a "jungle theme park" but the jungle is real, and the villages and shacks you pass are real and inhabited by real people. The village of Pulau is a Vintage Japanese bike fan's dream. There are loads of rusting small bikes from the 70's 80s and 90s leaning against shacks, or driven by wizened little old men. The cafe owner told me that they've no licences, no insurance and are maintained to the lowest standards. Honda Monkeys, a Suzuki GP100 and the tattiest collection of C50s 70s and 90s I’ve seen in a long time. The bikes over here are like the girls. It’s hard to tell the age of most of them, and they would surely benefit from bringing home and caring for!
The cafe in Pulau Ubin exudes the constant wail of Chinese pop music. Sitting in the cafe is a balding Yorkhireman in shorts (writing this), a Malaysian girl in mountain bike gear emblazoned with adverts for Volvo, another Englishman of my age who's probably doing the same as me, escaping for a day, a couple of young Singaporeans on a day trip from the city, and waitress of indeterminate age with tired eyes. The owner is friendly enough, happy to chat with the customers, about nothing in particular.
Looking out between the buildings over the strait, you can see the tower blocks of Changi in the distance. Do the inhabitants of Pulau Ubin look out from their windows over at Singapore like the prisoners of Alcatraz looked out over to San Francisco? It was said that on quiet nights with the wind in the right direction they could hear the people at the beach parties, laughing. It was said to be the worst punishment of all. I don't think that this is the case here.
The big question with Singapore for me is “who are the prisoners". No one is rushing to leave, no one go hungry, no one begs in the street. The majority of Singaporeans are prosperous and happy, as a result of the "benign dictatorship" of Mr Lee Kwan Yu. The "miracle" from 1965 to today is something unique; the people are hard working and have a strict sense of hierarchy. I'm "Dr John" here "lesser mortals” respect the academic title in a way that makes me feel a little uncomfortable. With someone of “equal status", I'm just that guy from the UK, and with the senior men I am expected to be respectful and subordinate. I was told by our local manager that my former managing director made a serious misjudgement of the culture here, by "rolling his sleeves up" and doing work that was below someone of such high standing.
This attitude is probably one of the keys to the success in material terms of Singapore. A compliant workforce, no unemployment, strict almost draconian laws on littering, drugs and crime, and a ban on public speaking without a licence. One can't help thinking though, that maybe the whole thing is built on sand. They grow nothing, import everything, from water to consumer goods, have little land left to speak of so only build upwards. You think "they can't afford to fall out with their neighbours" and "a serious blockade and they'd be starving in 6 weeks". The fact is that they have a symbiotic relationship with their neighbours. They depend on each other; each is better of for the other, being there. One for money and the other for resources. The best example of this is with water. It is piped, untreated, over the causeway from Malaysia, after which it is treated and sold back to them as potable water.
It's this symbiosis that lets them live in this artificial paradise, this "Disneyland with death penalties" as the father of Cyberpunk fiction, William Gibson famously quoted a few years back.
I managed to grab 15 minutes at the Changi Prison museum on the way back to the hotel. There they have built a replica of the famous prison chapel built by the British soldiers held captive there for three years from 1942 to 1945. On the wall is a moving "pin board" where people can leave dedications, one (from an Australian family) just said "thank you for the freedom". Some leave names and addresses of the former inmates who may have lost contact. The lucky ones are all in their 70s and 80s now. The others died of cholera, starvation, or the shock of amputations due to jungle sores.
In the museum I found a little more detail about the fall of Singapore, and the lives of the poor souls that worked and died in that hellish place. It seems the British were totally unprepared for the Japanese attack by land. A much smaller force of crack Japanese jungle troops defeated the large British force, which had no air cover, and no civil defence force. Hardly a shot was fired, the naval guns pointed impotently in the wrong direction. This may explain the modern day Singaporeans insistence upon national service, and having a large army, navy and air force.
The contrast between Pulau Ubin and Singapore itself is stark indeed. Singapore is all glass skyscrapers, office blocks and old white stone colonial buildings. Air-conditioned malls contain the best of Western consumer goods and, designer clothes. The people are smart, streetwise, and prosperous, but seem to rush around like ants. On Ubin, the bike hirers, the rusting Hondas and wooden shacks tell of a more relaxed lifestyle.
You tell me, at the beginning of this 3rd Millennium, who are the lucky ones?