APRIL 10 — Some time ago, I asked: “Is Singapore a racist country?” Last week, I think, MP Denise Phua provided an answer — a rather emphatic yes.

Speaking in Parliament, she described the foreign, largely South Asian workers who amass in Little India on Sundays (their day off) as “walking time-bombs.” She then suggested that public spaces like void decks and playgrounds in the area be fenced off, so residents can be spared the horror of rubbing shoulders with the people who literally build our nation.

Leave alone the enormous contribution made by the South Asian worker community, and we have an MP openly advocating apartheid; some spaces for one group of people who inhabit this island, some spaces for others. 

This links back to another thought of mine which ponders why our MPs only seem to resign for having affairs — surely incompetence, callousness or statements that bring ignominy to all Singaporeans should also be grounds for resignation?

The point, though, is that there is a clear strain of disgust directed at our South Asian worker population, and this disgust is both racist and class(ist) in nature.

Now, for the most part, middle-class people anywhere in the world don’t tend to like it when poorer people gather in large, loud haphazard groups in their neighbourhoods.

Sadly, South Asian workers in Singapore have no choice but to gather in Little India. They can hardly spend their days off sipping G and Ts at the Tanglin Club, or playing on jet skis on Sentosa Island, so they congregate where the shops and restaurants cater to them.

But beyond socio-economic class, I suspect, the fact that they are dark-skinned and different makes people particularly uncomfortable.

A single incident in 50 years by an obviously marginalised group doesn’t really make them a clear and present danger. — AFP pic

A single incident in 50 years by an obviously marginalised group doesn’t really make them a clear and present danger, but you do often see innate disgust, and even fear manifested by many Singaporeans when you mention a trip to Little India; the muttering of “eeyer” and a little downturn of the mouth are a common response.

This distaste for the supposedly drunken, scary and savage South Asian worker spills over into unease with the local South Asian community too.

It’s inevitable that demonising one group of South Asian extraction as scary “time bombs” will have an effect on Singaporeans who look exactly like these demonised outsiders.

If Ms Phua was really allowed to implement her fenced-off fantasy, would I have to produce my ID card to enter a park in Singapore?

Otherwise, how would the guards at the parks know to let me in, when I look South Asian? A Chinese-looking Singaporean wouldn’t have this problem, of course.

So we have a twofold problem: One is the ongoing treatment of the South Asian workers who enter this country for manual and low skilled jobs — they are marginalised, demonised, their living conditions are poor, and their legal rights scant. The second element is that the treatment of these workers reflects the way Singaporeans of South Asian origin/appearance are perceived in general.

It is a real problem compounded by confounding laws such as Ministry of Manpower directives that state South Asian (foreigners) can only be hired in menial/manual labour positions, but can’t be hired for higher status retail work (these positions are reserved for East Asian foreigners).

There is a preponderance of South Asians in low-status roles like cleaners and labourers, and this compounds a sense of the group as a sub-class.

This is the result of racialised policy — why do we decide by nationality and race which workers work in which industries? Can’t we simply allow firms to hire workers on the basis of skills?

Racialisation becomes racism when it’s compounded by ignorance and the failure to understand other cultures — leading us to brand fellow human beings as alien and scary.

In Singapore, ignorance of other cultures, including the culture of our own neighbours, is a deep-seated problem.

I recently spoke to a young, well-educated colleague who didn’t know what dhal was (how does a young person not know what dhal is — 10 per cent of our own population and almost a quarter of the world consume it as a staple); I had a chat with another gentleman who was surprised at my proficiency in chopsticks; and another who wondered how to say thank you in Malay.

Despite this country’s deeply multicultural roots, a modern generation of young people know nothing about the customs and culture of their neighbours.

Education is still marked by a division based on second language learning; the Chinese, Malay, Indian and Other construct means we focus on reinforcing our own supposed identities rather than learning about other cultures.

Inevitably, I believe, these psychological barriers ultimately manifest in the craving for physical barriers; hence, the desire to fence off certain groups from certain areas. A heartfelt appeal for apartheid — that can’t say anything good about the state of our nation.

*This is the personal opinion of the columnist.