Settler gastrocolonialism in Singapore: Gregory Ng Yong He, ‘If You Talk Like a Coloniser and Eat Like a Coloniser…’, New Naratif, 12/02/25 | settler colonial studies blog

Settler gastrocolonialism in Singapore: Gregory Ng Yong He, ‘If You Talk Like a Coloniser and Eat Like a Coloniser…’, New Naratif, 12/02/25

12Feb25

Excerpt: The keen preservation of British colonial architecture as heritage sites signals the Singapore government’s gratitude to its white predecessors. The government’s conservation policy, which reflects its public biases in terms of its favoured historical narratives, and its partnerships with private development, have directly encouraged businesses like Riders Café and The White Rabbit to market themselves according to colonial belief systems, values, and aesthetics. Together, these conserved colonial-themed restaurants express a dual ideal of Anglicisation and Sinicisation, culminating in the creation of a postcolonial patron: the Anglophone Chinese Singaporean, the exemplary citizen able to receive the full benefits of British colonial heritage and ethnic Chinese settler colonial rule. Yet there is in fact nothing postcolonial about this idealised figure. The keen preservation of British colonial architecture as heritage sites signals the Singapore government’s gratitude to its white predecessors. At the same time, this focus on preserving colonial buildings and the Raffles Town Plan fails to locate any kind of meaningful indigenous history that existed before colonial contact. Singapore’s conservation ethics clearly prioritise and preserve the racialised layout of Raffles’ Town Plan in their creation of a multicultural narrative where every race allegedly has equal footing in Singapore’s past, present and future. The state turns physical reminders of colonial racial categorisation and segregation into a story of postcolonial racial integration. This narrative, as laid out in Singapore’s heritage districts, perpetuates the settler colonial trope of the terra nullius (“nobody’s land”), presenting Singapore as uninhabited land that needed to be divided up and managed by the British, so that it could be passed on to the current government for more development. The state turns physical reminders of colonial racial categorisation and segregation into a story of postcolonial racial integration… if Singapore has any racial harmony at all, colonialism had no part to play in it. But if Singapore has any racial harmony at all, colonialism had no part to play in it. Colonialism was, and is, dependent on the reification of invented racial hierarchies in order to tear a population apart for the benefit of colonisers and elites. As long as the Singaporean public venerates the aesthetics of a colonial era tightly yoked to the disenfranchisement and erasure of Malay people, Singapore will never be truly postcolonial. By exonerating the British colonial era of its virulent racism, Singapore’s preservation policies encourage us to think of colonialism as a key part in the country’s thrust towards modernity and affluence. And if Singaporeans revere colonialism, then they celebrate an ideology based on dangerous rhetoric about the Malay community’s racial and cultural shortcomings, which is still mobilised today to explain contemporary Malay socioeconomic and political disenfranchisement. Singapore cannot effectively fight the legacies of British colonialism, or confront the present state of Chinese settler colonialism, without interrogating, critiquing, and ultimately divesting from the cultural tools—even the most pleasurable ones—which help to normalise the disenfranchisement of Malay people on their own land. Perhaps colonial-themed restaurants seem innocuous and apolitical, or perhaps they hold a seductive power, always offering chic service, delicious food, comfortable surroundings, and an ineffable feeling of luxury. But Singapore cannot effectively fight the legacies of British colonialism, or confront the present state of Chinese settler colonialism, without interrogating, critiquing, and ultimately divesting from the cultural tools—even the most pleasurable ones—which help to normalise the disenfranchisement of Malay people on their own land. So what can Singapore do, moving forward? Where do we go after the Singapore Bicentennial, and how do we let go of our colonial past? Perhaps Singapore could tear down the architecture of the colonial era, to prevent the local population from venerating these symbols of racial inequality and subjugation. But this is a symbolic move, and although it would be a massive administrative and physical undertaking, it is actually too easy, ideologically speaking. (And anyway, which exploited labourers would have to do the dangerous, backbreaking, and underpaid work of tearing down every colonial building in Singapore?) Ultimately, the work of decolonisation lies in social consciousness, civic participation, and political action. The truth is, colonialism still rules Singapore’s present, and it is now Chinese people who share the shameful title of coloniser with our white forebears. Colonial buildings are only physical manifestations of a social, political, and economic architecture that undergirds modern life in Singapore. Even if black-and-white mansions were to suddenly disappear off the face of the island, the structures of racial inequality, white supremacy, and Chinese privilege would still remain entrenched in Singaporean society. Nothing would change. So while tearing colonial buildings and statues down might initially signal a serious commitment to decolonisation, it would be an empty gesture if Chinese Singaporeans do not also work to demolish the legacies left by colonialism in our political and social structures. Ultimately, the work of decolonisation lies in social consciousness, civic participation, and political action. Then, perhaps, we could render these colonial houses truly insignificant—just abandoned structures, empty of meaning, holding power over no one at all.

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