A History of Amnesia, Indeed
I was rather amused by my 64-year-old uncle's recollection of wanting to hitchike to London with his best friend when they were teenagers, and I brought it up to my dad over lunch today.
His response, as always, painted a world so different from mine, even though this world existed merely decades before.
He told me that, at one time, it was every young male Singaporean's dream adventure to strike off to London. Many, like my uncle, wanted to go there to enlist in the army. The plan would be to get on the British military payroll--a much better deal than joining in the Volunteer Corps in Singapore--and eventually be posted back to serve in Singapore by virtue of land of origin.
This dream was nurtured by two historical factors: the lack of manufacturing industries suitable for the lesser-educated in colonial Singapore; and the promise of the only foreign country that a backward, insular people would be intimately familiar with: that of the colonisers themselves. Yes, my father claimed that his generation knew little to nothing of America at the time.
And a good number of men lived this dream. My father cited a number of family friends and neighbours I knew who were in fact non-commissioned officers in the British Army.
He then revealed that he himself was once offered a job with the Royal Air Force (RAF). Once, they held a recruitment drive at the now-defunct Kallang Airport, attracting hundreds. Secondary school leavers were seived off and the rest had to sit for an IQ test. It was the first my father had ever heard of such a test, but he did well enough to be shortlisted. After being briefed on the job requirements and being told that Asians would never be considered for officer training, he sat at a coffeeshop and talked it over with some friends, then turned down the offer.
This wasn't his only bid at a life abroad. He once asked his own father for three hundred dollars (a princely sum in those days) to join three other friends who were bent on making the trip to the English capital. Two of them planned on pursuing their education there, while the third was a soldier wannabe. His cash-strapped father gave him a flat refusal.
To me, all these accounts are both strange and familiar. Today, no young person in Singapore would think of signing on with a foreign army, not least of all due to the military obligations the men already have here. It is even stranger to imagine my old man as the bomber radio operator he could have become. Yet, the lure of greener pastures remains ever present in the hearts of young Singaporeans.
But there is one key difference, which I was quick to note in the conversation with my dad.
In his time, there was no concept of Singapore as a sovereign country. There was no formal institution of Singapore citizenship. For a people with no land to call their own, the attraction of a another promised land came easy and naturally.
For some reason, the West still holds the same attraction for young Singaporeans. This, despite the emergence of citizenship rights, home ownership and a host of reasons for national pride in the intervening years. What is it that compels this sentiment? Is it merely the ennui of life that teenagers and twenty-somethings here often refer to (and fashionably so, if I might add)? Or is it something much larger?
(To be continued)
His response, as always, painted a world so different from mine, even though this world existed merely decades before.
He told me that, at one time, it was every young male Singaporean's dream adventure to strike off to London. Many, like my uncle, wanted to go there to enlist in the army. The plan would be to get on the British military payroll--a much better deal than joining in the Volunteer Corps in Singapore--and eventually be posted back to serve in Singapore by virtue of land of origin.
This dream was nurtured by two historical factors: the lack of manufacturing industries suitable for the lesser-educated in colonial Singapore; and the promise of the only foreign country that a backward, insular people would be intimately familiar with: that of the colonisers themselves. Yes, my father claimed that his generation knew little to nothing of America at the time.
And a good number of men lived this dream. My father cited a number of family friends and neighbours I knew who were in fact non-commissioned officers in the British Army.
He then revealed that he himself was once offered a job with the Royal Air Force (RAF). Once, they held a recruitment drive at the now-defunct Kallang Airport, attracting hundreds. Secondary school leavers were seived off and the rest had to sit for an IQ test. It was the first my father had ever heard of such a test, but he did well enough to be shortlisted. After being briefed on the job requirements and being told that Asians would never be considered for officer training, he sat at a coffeeshop and talked it over with some friends, then turned down the offer.
This wasn't his only bid at a life abroad. He once asked his own father for three hundred dollars (a princely sum in those days) to join three other friends who were bent on making the trip to the English capital. Two of them planned on pursuing their education there, while the third was a soldier wannabe. His cash-strapped father gave him a flat refusal.
To me, all these accounts are both strange and familiar. Today, no young person in Singapore would think of signing on with a foreign army, not least of all due to the military obligations the men already have here. It is even stranger to imagine my old man as the bomber radio operator he could have become. Yet, the lure of greener pastures remains ever present in the hearts of young Singaporeans.
But there is one key difference, which I was quick to note in the conversation with my dad.
In his time, there was no concept of Singapore as a sovereign country. There was no formal institution of Singapore citizenship. For a people with no land to call their own, the attraction of a another promised land came easy and naturally.
For some reason, the West still holds the same attraction for young Singaporeans. This, despite the emergence of citizenship rights, home ownership and a host of reasons for national pride in the intervening years. What is it that compels this sentiment? Is it merely the ennui of life that teenagers and twenty-somethings here often refer to (and fashionably so, if I might add)? Or is it something much larger?
(To be continued)
posted by The Empty Signifier @ 2/12/2005 08:34:00 am
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