racial matters, part II

The Singapore propaganda machine (for lack of a better term) is at pains to insist there is no racism in the country. Part of the reason that the island state broke away from Malaysia in the 1960s is supposedly because they objected to the overtly racist laws that Malaysia was introducing at the time, which ultimately favoured Muslim Malays over other groups. Housing in Singapore is carefully planned to ensure that buildings are as racially diverse as possible, and the same goes for schools. The country has four official languages (English, Tamil, Chinese and Malaysian) and celebrates New Years four times as well. Our driver is at pains to reiterate this official line, insisting again and again that the people are colour blind and refuse to even discuss religion, as it is an exclusively private matter. Sure enough, I pass a school group while visiting a temple, and it does appear totally mixed, with Chinese guys chatting with Indian ones, and no one seeming to care. One the streets it is true that everyone is polite and speaks English, although never once do I see, for example, a mixed Indian-Chinese couple (although there are plenty of white men with Asian women!)
I arrive back at the docks. It is late and I had been wandering about. Singapore has tight security I need to go through every time I want to get on or off my ship, even though I have already been cleared and my passport is already stamped. I go to the control area where I will have to shop my passport once again, before I am readmitted to the shipping area. The queue is massive, there seems to be some problem with the passport control machines and there are at least 300 people waiting to reboard their various vessels (several large boats are docked in the same area). Most of the people people in the queue are Chinese, many appear to be actually from the People’s Republic, as opposed to Singapore. There are several Indian families as well. I go to the back of the queue, anticipating an hour-long wait at least. But then a whistle blows and a guard rushes over, signaling to me and two Australian women nearby. We all simultaneously indict we are happy to wait (a lie, obviously, but the Right Thing to Do) but the choice is not ours. “Europeans straight ahead” the guard barks. A special gate is open, and we are ushered through without even the normal formalities. As we move past the queue, I see a boy with an Indian face and holding a British passport ask his mother why we don’t have to wait, she shrugs and examines her feet. As we move through the gate, we pass the queue for handicapped people, with about 7 PRC pensioners in wheelchairs. They stare at us, as we are moved in front of them. I cringe internally. I imagine the Australian women do too. As we enter the secured area, and the door closes behind us, separating us from the now exclusively Asian queue, I jokingly ask the Aussies exactly when they became “Europeans.” One of the women laughs and says they apparently have it both ways. So much for racial equality.