Figure 1: Raffles Marina Lighthouse, Singapore, 2019 (own photo)
A hidden gem in the west, Raffles Marina Lighthouse is nestled in the shrubs of Jurong, far from civilization. This privately-owned lighthouse is located at Tuas Link, one of the last few stations of the Mass Rapid Transport (MRT) East-West line. On my way there, I realised the journey got rougher after the train left Pioneer station. The train’s heavy machinery creaked at brusque jerks and the sound of the engine reverberated louder than usual. I wondered why Singapore’s widely-acclaimed rail system did not run as smoothly only at the last few stations. There was barely anyone but men in construction attire, whom I presumed to be migrant workers. Do the migrant brothers who have dormitories at Tuas sit through this tumultuous ride back ‘home’ every day? These thoughts lingered in my head as I walked to the lighthouse.
As I sauntered into the lobby, I was in awe of the fish sculptures spurting out water, manipulating water into an elaborate art form. I saw the dock through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, juxtaposing the blue expanse of the sky with the clear water. I sat down at a white bench overlooking the myriad of yachts berthed. The light classical music from the restaurant nearby acted as the backdrop to the calming sound of water ebbing and flowing. I took the idyllic landscape in.
The seclusion of this place seems to be deliberate, giving the visitors a break from the trenches of daily life. That being said, I realised there were not a lot of visitors to begin with. As I walked along the winding path toward the lighthouse, I discovered that there were only two restaurants and they were connected to the Yacht Club. Clad in silky designer apparel, the customers sipped their bubbling champagne in tall wine glass cups. Beside them, Raffles Marina Club had pinned a formal warning at the front which stated: “Entry Restricted. To Members and their Accompanied Guests Only”. Fishing was exclusive too. There were barely any other facilities for non-club members to use. It probed me to think of the intended audience of this space. Although this place is free for public use, it is quite inaccessible by public transport due to it being located at the periphery of Singapore. Was it on purpose that this place was only made convenient to come to by private car? As I ambled along, I saw people loading their bait onto the fishing rods and a couple taking a selfie in front of the lighthouse. They were all locals, as identified by their Singlish.
It was quite puzzling. I did not see any migrant brothers hanging around despite getting off at the same stop. They had finished their day’s work, which would mean they should have had free time to visit these leisure spots right? But then and again, are these places welcoming to them? While the country club is a place of leisure for the upper echelons of society, others like our migrant brothers do not have the luxury of accessing such high-class pursuits. What does this suggest about the exclusivity embedded in the spaces we can inhabit and leisure we can access? How do places segregate people based on their socioeconomic status and identities?
The notion of space and its intersection with class identity was explored by Hall (2015) in Re-orienting Geographies of Urban Diversity and Coexistence: Analyzing Inclusion and Difference in Public Space. Hall (2015, p. 855) argues that in cities of complex diversity, there are both “productive registers of interaction” and also “enduring structures that limit migrant participation through virulent systems of social sorting by class, race, ethnicity, and gender”. The former constitute spaces where people from all walks of life can interact, such as public parks and landmarks. The latter can be policies or urban planning that institutionalise the segregation of different communities.
This made me reflect on a ubiquitous place that segregates groups in society with how it is set up — Malls. These sprawling constructions are littered across Singapore and are tactfully constructed with few seats to rest in the open area. This is a capitalistic ploy that urges visitors to engage in monetary transactions in order to stay in that air-conditioned space. This can be linked back to the clubhouse, where you need to have a certain monetary capital to use such spaces. As a result of how these places are set up, they essentially exclude those who do not have as much disposable income. The migrant workers and the local middle class thus occupy different spaces due to policies designating them to different places based on their socioeconomic classes and identities. These systems ensure that certain places are out-of-bounds for certain communities, making certain leisure spots exclusive to the upper class, which can be seen in places like Dempsey Hill, Orchard Road, and clubhouses.
In the research paper Negotiating Public Space: Strategies and Styles of Migrant Female Domestic Workers in Singapore, Yeoh (1998) analyses the link between Singapore’s urban landscape and the access and usage of marginalised groups, especially migrant domestic workers. She asserts that when those in power concede certain spaces to the ‘other’, that space then becomes a ‘no-go’ space for themselves, resulting in segregation. This is also seen as the “power of benevolence on the part of the dominant”. She supports her argument by using the example of ethnic enclaves which the domestic workers perceive as “bonding places”. Such examples are Lucky Plaza for Filipino domestic workers and Little India for Indian and Bangladeshi construction workers. This same place is seen as a “socially polluted landscape” by the locals of Singapore. Hence, this argument contrasts with Hall’s previous point of “Productive registers of Interaction”, as even in shared spaces such as parks, they rarely have any mixing of the locals and migrant workers due to the appointment of these spaces for the latter, a space that the former avoids going altogether.
This goes to show how places are given meaning is determined by the identities of those that use them. Migrant workers are inclined to use such spaces as they feel a sense of familiarity there. However, due to the association of these places with migrant workers, these areas are seen as allocated just for them. Hence, Singaporeans avoid going there due to their perceptions of such places. This produces a sinister effect: although the migrant workers feel included in their communities in such places, in the wider context, they are excluded from society at large as these places are ‘othered’. There is a line drawn between places the locals and the transient workers inhabit, not intercepting. This results in few spaces where there can be cross-exchanges between migrant workers and Singaporeans, showcasing how a place’s exclusivity is determined by one’s identity marker.
Linking back to my question on how exclusivity is embedded in spaces, I argue that the conception of space is intersected by both the people who inhabit it and also the policies that dictate its usage by certain demographics. These two things are not mutually exclusive. As argued by Hall (2015), there are policies requiring a certain monetary status to enter, effectively excluding those with lower capital. As a result of these systems in places, migrant workers look for other places that are accessible and free. They prefer parks and their own ethnic enclaves where they have forged a community, as they feel included in that space. It is not a mere coincidence that these migrant communities choose open areas such as parks and walkways as their places of refuge. This is inextricably linked to urban planning. Ironically, their sense of inclusion in these places does not come without the sinister side effect of exclusion from the wider local circle. This links to Yeoh’s (1998) point on how Singaporeans see the spaces they inhabit as “polluted landscapes”, hence they do not visit such spaces. Thus, intangible policies shape how marginalised communities feel about tangible spaces, which in turn shape the conception of such spaces by the locals, and a line is drawn between the two communities, resulting in two distinct worlds residing in this small nation-state.
References
Hall, S. M. (2015). Migrant urbanisms: Ordinary cities and everyday resistance. Sociology, 49(5), 853–869. https://doi.org/10.1177/0038038515586680
Yeoh, B. S. A.; Huang, S. (1998). Negotiating public space: Strategies and styles of migrant female domestic workers in Singapore. Urban Studies, 35(3), 583–602. https://doi.org/10.1080/0042098984925