Details are as follows:

Date, Time: 13 March 2009, 7.00–8.30pm
Venue: NUS Alumni House, Benefactors’ Lobby, Level 2
Food and drinks are provided, but Alumni are encouraged to bring their supplies too!

See attached poster for more info: Mad Hatters Party

This is an opportunity to catch up with old classmates and teachers over (free!) food and drinks. So do RSVP at nushistoryalumni at gmail.com

Hope to see you all there!

Chi Tim

The Editors

It’s been a while since the last update (two months to be exact)! But
citizen historian is still alive and kicking! This update covers
contributions for the months of June and August.
==============================

There are several libraries in Hanoi, like university libraries and institute libraries. Over the summer, I visited three of them.

Vien Han-Nom (Institute of Han-Nom Studies)

183 Dang Tien Dong street

http://www.hannom.org.vn/

Opening Hours: Mon-Thurs—0830-1145 hrs, 1400-1615 hrs; Friday—0830-1145 hrs

The Vien Han-Nom houses manuscripts dating from around the fourteenth century to circa. 1945. As the institute’s title indicates, its manuscripts are mainly in Nom (the demotic Vietnamese script) and traditional Chinese. Therefore, it is possible for researchers without a command of Vietnamese to utilize this resource. However, please note that with the exception of the senior librarians, most of the librarians do not speak either English or Chinese, and all the forms are in Vietnamese. Hence, it could prove highly tricky to do research without a command of basic Vietnamese. Furthermore, while the manuscripts themselves are in Chinese, the catalogue is in Chinese and French.

Home to about four thousand titles, approximately half of the collection is on Vietnamese literature. Although materials on history—e.g. local gazettes—are fairly limited, the Vien Han-Nom is an ideal place for history researchers who are interested in doing multi-disciplinary research on pre-twentieth century Vietnam, as the Vien Han-Nom houses volumes on geography, Buddhism and epigraphy amongst other things. An online catalogue of titles available can be found here: http://www.hannom.org.vn/default.asp?CatID=131

A lengthier description of what these titles contain can be found in the printed catalogue entitled Di San Han Nom Viet Nam, which is available in the reading room of the Han-Nom Institute. After identifying the items required, researchers have to write out the titles on request slips, and wait in the reading room for items to be delivered.

Research in the Vien Han-Nom can be time-consuming, due to several factors. Firstly, the library has short opening hours. Second, there is a request maximum of ten books a day, though this limit is rather flexible at times. Third, it is difficult to take away research materials. Photography of the manuscripts is by-permission only. Furthermore, photography of manuscripts with maps is strictly forbidden. A photocopying service is also provided, but once again, by permission only, and comes at a rather hefty price tag of 2000 dong per page (approximately SGD 0.17 at current exchange rates). Hence, majority of the researchers simply type out the manuscripts or copy it out.

In order to access the library, it would be ideal to e-mail one of the senior librarians beforehand. Upon arrival at the library, supply a letter of recommendation from your supervisor (if you are a graduate student), two passport photographs, and pay 30000 dong (about SGD 2.50) for a readership valid for six months.

EFEO (École Française d’extrême-orient) Library

5 Ha Hoi [an alley off Quang Trung Street]

Opening Hours: Monday-Friday—0800-1145, 1400-1645 hrs

The EFEO library’s collection was established on basis of charity (i.e. individual donations), and as with donated collections, the selection is eclectic. However, there are several aspects that make the EFEO library worthy of visiting. Firstly, it houses Vietnamese history classics, like the Dai Viet Nhat Thong Chi. Secondly, it is the most user-friendly library, as administrative procedures are limited.

To access the EFEO library, just walk in during the opening hours, and the librarian will hand you a form to fill up (which is in French). To access the collection, simply browse through the two catalogues available, and write down the books that you would like to see. The librarian will then retreive the books that you requested. You can either read it in the library, or if you want a copy of the book, you can either photograph the whole book, or pass the books you want photocopied to the librarian. However, users are only allowed to photocopy about five to six books a day. Do note that the librarian speaks mainly Vietnamese and French, though he knows a little English.

Vietnam National Library

31 Trang Thi Street

www.nlv.gov.vn

Opening Hours: Various sections have different opening hours, but all close by 2000 hrs

The Vietnam National Library is a repository of old out-of-print books, rare books, old newspapers, tool books, dictionaries etc. Therefore, it has several target groups, including local university students. However, for the history researcher, old out-of-print books, rare books and old newspapers should be of great interest, as the collection starts from the early 1900s.

Titles in the library can be searched from their intranet, available through the computer terminals in the lobby of the main building (Block D). Although the library houses some materials in foreign languages like French, English and Chinese, the search system is in Vietnamese. Hence, knowledge of basic Vietnamese is required to access the library’s collection.

While the library has some open-shelf books, most materials of greater interest to history researchers are available only upon request. Despite this extra procedure, taking away research materials is surprisingly easy. Due to lax and/or lack of copyright laws in Vietnam, one can simply go to the photocopy rooms that are available in all the different sections of the library, and ask the person manning the room to photocopy the whole book (at 200 dong per page). For those who do not want to be saddled with twenty-plus kilos of photocopied materials, or are reading microfilms and rare books, photographing the materials is also permitted.

To access the library, simply walk into the office located to the left of the main gate. Fill up a form, pay 30000 dong, and you will receive your readership (valid for one year) a few days later. Otherwise, it is also possible to access the library with your passport.

The author is currently a Masters candidate in the Department of History at the National University of Singapore. She’s researching a thesis on Luu Vinh Phuc (or Liu Yung-fu), a key personality during the Sino-French War in the late 19th Century.

This story was first published at the MyStory portal, an initiative by the Public Education Division of the National Heritage Board.

I allowed Sang Nila Utama safe passage to Singapore after he yielded his crown as tribute. At that time, the island was called “Temasik”, but he renamed it “Singapura” or Lion City, even though there wasn’t a city there when he landed.

For centuries, I’ve supported life on this little island. For instance, the Orang Laut such as the Orang Biduanda Kallang and the Orang Selat fished in my waters.

When the British came, they came by sea. The attraction wasn’t just what could be grown on land, but what could be shipped by sea and traded on land. The island’s population grew rapidly after Stamford Raffles stepped on the shore in 1819. Immigrants came by the shipload, not just from Britain, but also from India, China and other lands nearby.

The biggest trouble Singapore has ever known came by sea too. In December 1941, an army from another island landed on several beaches, such as the one off Kota Bahru in the Malay Peninsula, north of Singapore.

Somewhere along this beach near Kota Bahru in Peninsula Malaysia, the Japanese landed and trooped south towards Singapore

From their beach heads, the Japanese army moved south to the Johor Straits, and crossed it to land in Singapore at Kranji, then pushed inland.

The Johor Straits, seen from Johor, with Kranji in the background

The British surrendered in a place that is about as far as one could get from the sea – in a factory at Bukit Timah. The days that followed were the worst of times ever. I know, because many of Singapore’s civilians were shot in my waters off Changi and Punggol beaches. The Japanese called the island “Syonanto” or “Light of the South”. The light from the Land of the Rising Sun cast long, dark shadows.

When the Japanese surrendered on an American ship in 1945 in the waters of Tokyo Bay, things were never the same again. Malaya soon declared its independence from the British Empire in 1957. Singapore followed by attaining self-government in 1959 and merged politically with Malaysia in 1963. In 1965, the island became independent, relying even more on the access provided by the seas.

I supported Singapore’s economy through entrepot trade. Even when the island became a land of factories, many goods were shipped by sea. As Singapore diversified from manufacturing into services, I continued to remain relevant for business, with the many telecommunication cables submerged beneath my waves

Since independence, Singapore has celebrated its birthday mostly near me – at the Padang near the Singapore River, and at the National Stadium near the Kallang Basin. In 2007, for the first time ever, the parade was held on water, at Marina Bay.

Marina Bay, the site of Singapore’s 2007 National Day celebration

While the story of how Singapura got its name is a legend, the history of Singapore is my story. I, the waters off Singapore, have seen history ebb and flow. Will the nation continue to be on solid ground? Much depends on those who live on its shores, but I will continue to be there for the island.

The writer enjoys journeys to wide open spaces and into the past by bicycle. He rides around Singapore occasionally to “paint with light”, photographing scenes that may shed light on bits of the island’s past. This way, he can relive in future memories of the past even when what has been photographed has disappeared. After all, when things are gone, all we have left are memories which may dim with time – and photographs.

References

Cornelius-Takahama V (2000). Sang Nila Utama. Retrieved 9 Aug 07 from http://infopedia.nlb.gov.sg/articles/SIP_93_2005-01-26.html

Government of Singapore (undated). World War II & Military Sites. Retrieved 9 Aug 07 from http://www.livelife.ecitizen.gov.sg/culture/heritage/worldwar2_detail.asp?plc_id=13

Hwang J (2001). Orang Laut. Retrieved 9 Aug 07 from http://infopedia.nlb.gov.sg/articles/SIP_551_2005-01-09.html

Miles R (2005). Syonanto (Singapore) 1942 – 1945. Retrieved 14 Aug 07 from http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/71/a4405871.shtml

Siew A (2006). So Much Riding on Fragile Undersea Cables. Retrieved 9 Aug 07 from http://business.asiaone.com/Business/SME+Central/Talking+point/Story/A1Story20070519-3406.html

Singapore Press Holdings (1998). Road to Independence. Retrieved 9 Aug 07 from http://ourstory.asia1.com.sg/merger/merger.html

The Changi Museum (undated). Chronological Events of WWII. Retrieved 9 Aug 07 from http://www.changimuseum.com/Chronicle/Chronicles%20body%20text2.htm

Wong H (undated). Tomoyuki Yamashita. Retrieved 9 Aug 07 from http://infopedia.nlb.gov.sg/articles/SIP_751_2005-01-22.html

Yip Cheong Fun (叶畅芬, 1903-1989) was a distinguished and influential Singaporean documentary photographer. Renowned internationally for his seascapes, Yip also recorded through his photographs the many different facets of Singapore life with his keen eye and humanistic understanding of his surroundings. His sensitivity to change also helped document the cultural landscape in Singapore before urbanization. [Kwek, 2006, 1]

Born in Hong Kong in 1903, Yip arrived in Singapore with his parents when he was seven months old. His father died when he was four and he then stayed with his mother at Sago Street in Chinatown. When Yip was six, he was sent to Dongguan, China by his mother as it was difficult to make a living in Singapore. However, Yip was neglected by his supposed care-givers in the subsequent four years. Fortunately, he was taken in by kind-hearted neighbours and they contacted Yip’s mother. Yip was then brought back to Singapore where he later studied at a private school in Chinatown. [Ahmad, 2007, 1]

Yip was passionate about photography. It started as a hobby to him when he was in his twenties. Working as a technician and an engineering supervisor, he managed to save up enough money to buy his first camera – a Rolleiflex – so that he could take photos for his family album.

His interest was disrupted when the Japanese confiscated his camera during the Japanese Occupation; but it did not die and he continued to pursue photography after the Second World War. [Ahmad, 2007, 1]

Yip became a member of the Photographic Society of Singapore in 1964 at fifty years old, and became the society’s vice-president in 1966 (until 1974). He was also Advisor to the Kreta Ayer Community Centre Camera Club in 1976, and played an active role in inspiring and guiding many young people who are interested in photography. [Andrew Yip, email interview, 26 March 2008]

Approach to Photography

In the early 1950s, working with a mere handful of contemporaries, Yip Cheong Fun faced a lot of difficulties, including an unsympathetic environment, scantiness of reference material, inadequate equipment, and a lack of guidance and direction. [Choy 1986, 1]

Yip’s solution to all these problems was experimentation in the form of trials and errors backed by a passionate spirit. Yip always sought to take photographs which go beyond superficial attractiveness. His photographs must carry a telling message forged by crucial elements such as content, composition, light and timing. In Yip’s words, “a good picture must have the right balance and composition.” [Choy, 1986, 1]

It is possible to manipulate a photograph after it is developed. Yip chose only to crop and to enlarge, and took care to avoid changing photographs. He relied heavily on his own judgment, experience, and intuition. “Yip’s approach to photography is not that of the photo-journalist who must make news, nor the fashion photographer who must flatter, nor the industrial photographer who must explain, nor the publicity photographer who must be an image maker. His is the artist’s approach free of the functional constraints and yet must reach out for something else. Yip decides to express a fragment of his imagination.” [Choy, 1986, 1] [“Master Lensman, Yip Cheong Fun”, 1986, videorecording]

Yip took a humanistic approach to photography. Andrew Yip, one of Yip’s four sons describes how his father “understood how photography can be a great medium not just to record truth and beauty, but to capture the defining moments of the changes that affect all of us in any human situation, and to interpret the dynamic interplay of the elements that constitute life and the human spirit.” [Andrew Yip, 2006, http://www.yipcheongfun.com/yipcheongfun.htm]

Indeed, the humanistic approach to photography was shown throughout his seascape photography, child portraiture and documentary photography.

Seascape Photography

In 1950s, Yip spent some time photographing the seascape, of the fishermen and the successors of the Chinese junks which first brought him from Singapore. The shimmering lights and reflections on the sea’s surface in many of his photographs became the hallmark of his seascape works. [Ahmad, 2007, 2]

The photograph “Rowing at Dawn”, Yip’s most recognised photograph, was taken at Tanjong Rhu where many Chinese junks anchored during this period of time. Yip took a sampan with his friend and captured this special moment in the heavy morning mist using a Super Ikonta which he bought after the Japanese Occupation. The solitary boatman rowing in the misty morning light, in his view, was the symbol for the new Singapore which has just gained self-government in 1957. Yip celebrated the end of colonialism and “the dawn of a new day, new hope and new beginning for Singapore”. [“Master Lensman, Yip Cheong Fun”, 1986, video-recording]

Child Portraiture

Yip also used to visit the Malay Kampongs at Geylang Lorong 3 after the early morning boat trips very often in the 1950s. And he would often take pictures of the children living there and gave them supplementary copies on the subsequent visit.

One of the photographic works that Yip was very fond of was the one with a young boy looking straight into the camera with his hands placed on a wooden beam. His brother stood behind the child and held tightly onto the wooden beams as well. “4 hands and 2 eyes are all in one row,” Yip said while touching this precious piece of photograph, “what is most outstanding is the child’s eyes.” [“Master Lensman, Yip Cheong Fun”, 1986, videorecording]

Although Yip did not reveal his feelings towards this photograph, the inclusion of a wooden beam that created distance and the four hands tightly holding on to it that created tension suggested some of Yip’s thoughts of childhood. What is most special about this picture is that the brother has only four fingers on each hand. This unusual scene has captured the intense feelings of tension, suffering and pain. [Andrew Yip, interview, 16 April 2008]

Indeed, Andrew Yip believed that his father’s work on child portraiture was affected by his early childhood which was filled with his memories of fleeing from floods, famine and wars in China and the difficult time living in Singapore with his mother. The photograph “Father’s Love”, where a father was trying to help his daughter to get down from a large piece of rock, would be deeply moving if one understood that Yip has lost his father at four. [Andrew Yip, email interview, 29 March 2008]

Bridget Tracy Tan, Director of Gallery and Theatre in the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts in Singapore, commented on Yip Cheong Fun’s child portraiture: “Yip was known as a child-portrait photographer in his time, made famous by his many images of children, some dark, some compelling, some uncannily exhilarating, and others still reserved, impenetrable…. The depth of Yip’s perception is as much about the children as it is about himself.

“If we read a burden of anxiety upon a face, we understand full well that Yip’s childhood was not an unblemished one. If we read the light of innocence and imagination  upon a face, then we know Yip’s experiences bore the same if not as a child himself, then as that within his own children, all six of them. If we catch the outbreak of happiness through smiles and laughter, we know that this kind of joy is not limited to heady childhood, but lives on well into old age.” [Tan, 2006, also mentioned in email interview with Andrew Yip, 29 March 2008]

Documentary Photography

Yip influenced not only the people who were enthusiastic about photography, but also the people who were interested in the preservation of Singapore’s memory of the past. Chong Wing Hong, for example, was one of them. As a veteran columnist with Chinese daily Lianhe Zaobao, Chong compiled a book of essays to preserve his memories of Chinatown where he grew up in. Blooms in Glimpse: Story of Kreta Aye is a 179-page book containing 34 essays in Chinese and 22 black-and-white photographs by Yip, having managed to “crystallize my memories of Kreta Ayer in his pictures.” [Teo, 2006, 1]

Chong also emphasized one photograph taking by Yip that consists of a silhouette of a woman heaving a cart through a torrential downpour specially. He said that the person in the straw hat was a fitting symbol of Singapore, more apt than even the Merlion. Chong said, “The picture represents how Singaporean once braved the storms to build up this country, and it still represents our fighting spirit today.” [Teo, 2006, 1]

Kelvin Tan, the president of the Singapore Heritage Society, notes that documentary photographs are “a powerful reminder of a way of life that is probably gone for ever.” He defines the documentary photography as having the specific aim of recording a present reality for future generations: “Singaporeans must be made to realize great photographs are not the sole preserve of Henri Cartier-Bresson or Alfred Stieglitz. We have our own masters too. More important, they documented our past, not someone else’s.” [Kwek, 2006, 2]

Yip is perhaps one such ‘master’. Through his camera, he has recorded a wide range of human activities that constituted a large part of Singapore’s cultural landscape in its early days. For instance, through his pictures, we see “another Singapore when we look at a Taoist priest leaping through a wall of flame amid a flurry of “Hell Notes”, or the silhouette of a woman heaving a cart through a torrential downpour, or an opium addict surrounded by waves of smoke.” [Tan, 2006, 1] [Kwek, 2006, 1]

In 2006, Ken Kwek wrote of the need to revive the waning art form of documentary photography and expressed his concern that “Singapore is forgetting the photo artists who spent their lives capturing a cultural landscape that would be rapidly effaced in the name of economic progress.” Yip, in his view, was one of the few photographers who have “registered the pain of modernization” poignantly. He also used Yip’s late 1960s photograph of an old tree crumbling in the foreground of a burgeoning metropolis as an example of the emotional schisms of urbanization. [Kwek, 2006, 1]

The sensitivity to the changes in his social and physical environment, the persistence in recording the changes and the passion for photography had also enabled Yip to document a large number of photographs showing the physical and social impact of urbanization. For instance, Yip stood on the same spot at New Bridge Road in 1955 and again in 1978 to take pictures of Chinatown, documenting the changes over twenty-three years.

Yip passed away on 16 September 1989. He collapsed at Lakeside MRT station at around midnight, clutching a loaded camera after taking pictures of the Lantern Festival at the Chinese Garden. But as seen from above, his influence remains and continues to prevail even after his passing. His mastery of photography can be attested to the numerous local and international awards won, including the Cultural Medallion awarded by the National Arts Council in 1984.[i] [Ahmad, 2007, 2]

A photography enthusiast myself, researching Yip was an illuminating experience. Yip’s photographs reveal a Singapore totally different from the one I am more familiar with. My favourite photograph by Yip the one called “Father’s Care”. The love and care the father shows his daughter makes the photograph comes alive. Almost as if defying his difficult childhood, he managed to capture this warm tender moment, a moment worth pondering upon, especially during present times of extreme materialism.

The author is a first-year student studying applied mathematics and computer science in NUS. She enjoys poetry, photography, walking and running. Taking up a scholarship to study in Singapore meant placing herself at the boundaries of two different cultures. While remaining a proud citizen of China, she is at the same time grateful to Singapore.

More information on Yip and his photographs can be found at An Ingenious Reverie – The Photography of Yip Cheong Fun, a website maintained by his son, Andrew Yip.

References

Ahmad Nureza. “Yip Cheong Fun” Updated 21 December 2007. (http://infopedia.nlb.gov.sg/details/SIP_465_2004-12-23.html) Cited 17 April 2008. Singapore Infopedia, National Library of Singapore.

Andre W. Keye. Chinatown: Different Exposures. Singapore: Fashion, 2004.

Ang Chwee Chai. “Foreword” Yip Cheong Fun’s Pictorial Collection. By Yip Cheong Fun. Singapore: C. F. Yip, 1986, p. 5

Choy Weng Yang. “The Photography of Yip Cheong Fun” Yip Cheong Fun’s Pictorial Collection. By Yip Cheong Fun. Singapore: C. F. Yip<, 1986, pp. 140-141.

Corrie Tan. “Remembering Yip Cheong Fun.” Life News. The Straits Times 1 April 2006.

David P. C. Tay. “Message” Yip Cheong Fun’s Pictorial Collection. By Yip Cheong Fun. Singapore: C. F. Yip, 1986, p. 6.

Ken Kwek. “Revive Waning Art Form of Documentary Photography”. Rev. others. The Straits Times 22 December 2006.

Master Lensman, Yip Cheong Fun. Videorecording. Singapore: Television Corporation of Singapore, 1986.

“Photographer Yip Cheong Fun dies.” News. The Straits Times 19 September 1989.

Tan, Bridget Tracy. An Ingenious Reverie: the Photography of Yip Cheong Fun. Singapore: National Library Board, 2006.

Teo, Eisen. “Glimpse of a Chinatown childhood.” Life News. The Straits Times 9 June 2006.

Thulaja, Naidu Ratnala. “New Bridge Road.” Updated 7 July 2003. (http://infopedia.nlb.gov.sg/articles/SIP_310_2004-12-17). Cited 17 April 2008. Singapore Infopedia, National Library of Singapore.

Tommy Koh (Editor-in-chief). Singapore: the Encyclopedia. Singapore: National Heritage Board with Editions Didier Millet, 2006.

Yip, Andrew. E-mail interview. 26 March 2008.

Yip, Andrew. “About Yip Cheong Fun.” Updated 21 August 2006. (http://www.yipcheongfun.com/yipcheongfun.htm). Cited 17 April 2008.

Yip Cheong Fun. Yip Cheong Fun’s Pictorial Collection. Singapore: C. F. Yip, 1986.

[i] (1971) Honorary Excellence Distinction conferred by Federation Internationale de l’art Photographique (International Federation of Photographic Art); (1974) Honorary Fellowship conferred by the Photographic Society of Singapore; (1980) One of ten Honorary Outstanding Photographers of the Century (Seascapes), Photographic Society of New York, USA; (1984) Cultural Medallion, National Arts Council, Singapore.Â

This year marks the hundredth anniversary of the birth of David Marshall (1908–1995), the celebrated Singapore nationalist, politician, lawyer and diplomat. Born on 12 March 1908 into a Sephardic Jew family, Marshall rose to prominence in the late 1940s as a brilliant young criminal lawyer whose extraordinary legal acumen and oratorical skill left him victorious in numerous court cases. He was so skilled in law that Chief Justice Chan Sek Keong regarded him as “the greatest criminal advocate that has ever graced the halls of justice in Singapore and Malaya – A giant among pygmies at the criminal Bar.”[i

Marshall subsequently entered politics at the head of the Labor Front party and became Singapore’s first elected Chief Minister between 1955 and 1956. As Chief Minister, Marshall was a fearless opponent of British colonialism and led the early political struggles for Singapore independence. A socialist by inclination, he helped found the Singapore Worker’s Party (WP) in 1957 after he left the Labor Front. Afterwards he became a vocal critic of the People’s Action Party (PAP) which came to power in Singapore in 1959.

In spite of this, the PAP government appointed him Ambassador to France in 1978, a post he accepted and held with distinction, and which was later expanded to include the embassies of Portugal, Spain and Switzerland. He retired as in 1993 and passed away two years later on the 12 December 1995. Marshall was, in short, a key figure in Singapore’s post-war history.

Besides his achievements on the public stage, Marshall also left a lasting impression on many prominent people who knew him privately. Professor Tommy Koh, Singapore’s Ambassador-at-large and Chairman of the National Heritage Board, studied under Marshall as a young lawyer and remembered him as “a gifted teacher… [who] brought both learning and enthusiasm to his classes…a truly an unforgettable person”.[ii] Professor Koh Kheng Lian, Emeritus Professor of Law at the National University of Singapore, recalled Marshall as “a man of great humanity and compassion, a man who lived life to the fullest, a man dedicated to his profession, his country and his people”.[iii] Marshall was regarded as by his admirers an exemplary person, both professionally and ethically.

In 1984, the National Archives of Singapore conducted an in-depth oral history interview with David Marshall containing valuable insight into his ethical beliefs and how they were formed. The rest of this article draws on this interview.

Racial Discrimination and Anti-colonialism

Reflecting on his youth in the interview, Marshall pointed to three experiences that were essential to shaping his ethical convictions – the racial discrimination he bore under British colonialism, his reading of the Christian Bible, and his experience as a prisoner-of-war during the Japanese occupation.

When asked what drove him to join politics, Marshall replied, “Politics was an accident. I was thrust into politics by a sense of outrage, a deep sense of anger”.[iv] Marshall’s outrage was directed against the systematic racism he endured as an Asian Jew under British colonial rule. Colonialism was justified by the claim that white men were biologically and culturally superior to men of all other races.

“I used to resent little pin-pricks [which] were, I thought …unfair about you know [the] ‘white man, brown man’ relationship,” he said. “Like you call me ‘Jowdy Jew, brush my shoe’, and next thing I know is I hit you on the nose…I wanted to break the sonic barrier against Asians and especially against Jews.”[v] Marshall’s uncompromising stance against British colonialism correlated to his contempt for their racism.

Marshall’s revulsion at what he termed “the leprous concept of racial superiority”[vi] was reinforced by his study of the Christian Bible, which he read thrice as a youth. Although he was a Jew proud of his Jewish origins, Marshall was inspired by the stories of heroism and human community found in the Bible:

“Frankly, looking back, I consider that [reading the Bible] was perhaps the most formative aspect of my character. Because the King James’ version has an organ sonority of language which sank into me at a very impressionable age. And also the wonderful stories of [a] heroic global view of life and passionate dedication to human rights that you find in the Bible. It appealed to me very much.”[vii]

Of particular influence on the young Marshall were Biblical tales of men who struggled for justice against stronger adversaries, stories which reflected his own later struggles against British colonialism.

The Japanese Occupation: Marshall’s Adulthood Initiation

In his interview, Marshall singled out his experience as a prisoner-of-war during the Japanese occupation as the decisive event that shaped his adult worldview. Marshall had volunteered as a British soldier in Singapore following the German invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1938, and was made a prisoner-of-war following the crushing defeat of the British military in Singapore and Malaya by the Japanese in 1941.[viii] Marshall recalled the terrible years that would reshape his thinking:

“[The Japanese Occupation] taught me humility….. Three and a half years as a prisoner taught me humility…..I realized [as a Japanese prisoner-of-war] that man is capable of cold-blooded cruelty. I can be angry, and I have no doubt I can be cruel for five, ten minutes. But the Japanese cruelty was cold-blooded, permanent and eternal. Man’s inhumanity to man in fact, in real life, made its presence really known to me when I became a prisoner, and saw it in action.

“Of course, I have known cruelty before. But wide-spread, long-term, cold-blooded, permanent cruelty, I’ve never experienced before, not even from the British Imperialists no matter how arrogant they were. That was a major shock, the feeling that here were human beings who were not on the same wavelength as me at all, who were not even human from my point of view.”[ix]

The war experience was to solidify Marshall’s political faith in socialism. It was during this period that Marshall’s belief in human community, his distaste for class-distinction and his faith in the common man’s capacity for goodness were more fully developed:

“The cohesion of disparate prisoners, from different parts of the United Kingdom, from different parts of Europe……was something touching…..There were some egoists who cracked under pressure. There were some who even committed suicide because they couldn’t take any more.

“But by and large, there was an unspoken…comradeship…..It kept the humanity alive within me, and made me perhaps recognize more clearly that great qualities….qualities that I appreciated in human beings, were not necessarily confined to the wealthy or educated…. That the rough, semi-educated laborer, odd-jobs man had human qualities which were good and which felt good and which were of value to its fellow prisoners. Where, some of the educated and intelligent cracked up or went about whining….”[x]

The war experience would also disenchant Marshall to the value of status symbols as accurate measures of human worth:

“Perhaps I learnt most of all the frailty of human beings, the absurdities of the status symbols of carrying a Captain’s star or a Major’s crown and turning out to be a long streak of piss. Whereas the cook who was the Lance-Corporal turned out to be a really worthwhile human being.”[xi]

Marshall’s brand of Socialism, which he briefly explained in the interview, was in many ways a reflection of the lessons he learnt as a Japanese prisoner:

“My…understanding of socialism, my own approach was an effort to create the foundations for the opportunity of all our people to attain the conditions of living compatible with human dignity. Why did I call it socialist? Because it moved away from the concept of wealth to the concept of human qualities and respect for the human individual, and not respect for his bank account.”[xii]

Marshall as Loyal Critic of Singapore Society

Marshall’s critique of materialism and status anxiety, and his concern for human dignity and community which he considered to be universal ends, expressed themselves in several critical observations he made of Singapore society. In the interview, Marshall commented that there was a tendency in Singapore’s culture to devalue goods of utmost importance that could not be measured in utilitarian terms – like wisdom and culture; and conversely, an inclination to overvalue goods that were quantifiable – like money and intelligence.

This he thought encouraged a culture of selfish egotism which undermined national unity and bonds of trust between Singaporeans:

“I think it’s very important to make [the] distinction today [between intelligence and wisdom] when there is so much emphasis on the genetic inheritance of intelligence. I think it’s very dangerous to over-emphasize the value of intelligence…..as a prisoner of war….I learnt a deep respect for the qualities of the humble. The innate wisdom, the loyalty, the decency which, from the point of view of intelligence, is possibly an aberration.

“Because, intelligence requires, seems to compel, an egoistic approach, an egocentric approach to life. And if you really look at that in the long term, egocentrism is very, very limited and very destructive in the long term. And we are, in my view, creating an ethos of egocentrism in Singapore and the concept that intelligence is the be all and end all of all virtues. Well, that’s totally wrong.

“The wisdom of centuries which are stored in the treasure house of religion and ancient philosophies of need for an understanding of the unity of humanity, cooperation with fellow beings. You know the lovely remark of Dostoevsky “God and the devil can live alone, but man needs his fellow man”….that we all have a duty to contribute to the common good. But we haven’t got any of that in Singapore. In Singapore you scramble for what you can achieve for yourself. And status symbols of Mercedes Benz, swimming pool, a string of women and horses and that is, those are the symbols of success. I think we are going through a dangerous phase.”[xiii]

Marshall also expressed reservations about Singapore’s work culture:

“We [in Singapore] have the constant drum beat now for productivity. My criticism is that this is a little lop-sided. We work to live, we don’t live to work. And the [Singapore] approach is one that is [of] a purely productive animal…..I think that [this] is now going beyond the bounds of reason…this constant driving and nagging about productivity and failing to recognize that people have a right to live as well as a need to work……we’re not seen to have any cultural existence.

“We’re not seen to be able to contribute to the finer graces of living. But we are viewed as economic animals with the same awe as we view robots…It’s a question of recognizing that work is an integral part of individual identity and essential for true enjoyment of living. But concurrently, to recognize that work is not the only element in living. That there are other elements to life. The joy of children. The joy of marriage. The pleasure of travel. The pleasure of study….Life is such a miracle, it is multi-faceted [in] the opportunities it gives for the uplift of the human spirit.”[xiv]

But Marshall was not a blind critic, raging at the world. He held himself to the same standards he held others to, recognizing his own limitations, and paying tribute where it was due – even to his opponents. Commenting on his own leadership ability, he said:

“I don’t think I had leadership qualities….for me a leader is a great administrator, organizer….I’ve been a vivid personality. But that doesn’t mean I have leadership quality. I had the fire of anger, the excitement of great ideas, emotional approach almost uninhibited, but not the intellectual organizational approach of great leaders. That I didn’t have, and don’t….frankly, I don’t think I would have been equal to the ramifications of running the country.

“Watching now from outside, the activities of the [Singapore government], all in all they deserve the highest praise: with no background, no real aid from outside to guide their infant steps, to have achieved so much stability, international respect and economic growth.”[xv]

Marshall also paid tribute to the personal qualities of Dr Goh Keng Swee, a leading member of his long time political adversary, the People’s Action Party:

“Keng Swee was a pragmatic top-notch civil servant, a genius as an administrator, a man of ‘sea-green’ integrity, a man of personal charm and warmth if you got close to him, very humble. Genuinely, no showmanship about it, genuinely humble….he speaks to the high as well as to the low….with the same approach.

“He had an extraordinary….total freedom from arrogance, from superiority, from any inferiority; he just was….a natural human being. And to me, a perfect human being…..it’s so much part of the air he breathes….to serve his country and his fellow human beings. And never a lie from him, never any malice from him. Even when I was the black plague to the PAP…”[xvi]

Marshall was a vocal critic of Singapore yet he remained a loyal Singaporean. His opinions were controversial, contestable and perhaps fool-hardy at times, but few can doubt his sincerity, courage and personal integrity. He was always ready to stand up for what he thought was right, and it is the memory of his nobility that his friends and admirers celebrate on his birthday centenary.

Adapted from ‘David Marshall: Singapore’s First Chief Minister’ taken from the National Archives of Singapore’s online ETC (Entering The Collection) Newsletter 2008 (http://www.a2o.com.sg/a2o/public/html/etc/index.htm), with permission from author. Kevin holds a Masters in History from the National University of Singapore, and is currently an Assistant Archivist at the National Archives of Singapore.

[i] Chief Justice Chan Sek Keong, “David Marshall and the Law – Some Reflections on his Contributions to Criminal and Civil Justice in Singapore”, speech given at the Symposium in Commemoration of the 100^th Birthday of Mr David Marshall, 12 March 2008.

[ii] Professor Tommy Koh, “The Rich Legacy of Singapore’s First Nationalist”, Keynote address at the Symposium in Commemoration of the 100^th Birthday of Mr David Marshall, 12 March 2008.

[iii] Professor Koh Kheng Lian, “A Man of Humanity and Compassion”, The Straits Times, 13 March 2008.

[iv] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 2.

[v] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 2.

[vi] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 3.

[vii] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 1.

[viii] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 2 and 3.

[ix] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 3.

[x] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 3.

[xi] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 3.

[xii] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 4.

[xiii] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 19.

[xiv] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 19.

[xv] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 2.

[xvi] David Saul Marshall, Oral History Interview, Acc 000156, Reel 4.

Continuing The First Hospital for the Mentally Ill

The Grand Jury made their last Presentment on 18 October 1865, and was abolished by Ordinace VI on 1873 passed on 9 September 1873 (Lee 1978, 204). At that point of time, doctors had both clinical and administrative duties to fulfil (Ng 2001, 15). As a result, clinical matters took up the bulk of their time, while the running of the Asylum was neglected (Ng 2001, 15). Moreover, men had always been in-charge of caring for the lunatics at the Asylum. This was inconvenient due to lunatics in the female wards, so in January 1867 the first female employee to work in the Medical Department was sought (Ng 2001, 14).

The administration of the Straits Settlements was transferred from the India office to the Colonial Office on 1 April 1867, and the Settlements became a Crown Colony (Lee 1978, 205). The immediate impact on the Medical Department was an in-depth inquiry into the state of affairs in all hospitals. The Governor, Sir Harry Ord, was at first indignant until it was made clear that the purpose “was to indicate the standard of care expected” and not to put blame (Lee 1978, 205).

Since then, the Asylum was to be managed according to the Digest on Hospitals and Asylums, published on 14 January 1867 and sent to Singapore on 18 December 1867 (Lee 1978, 205). The law in place at the time of transfer was the Indian Lunacy Act of 1858, which was a simplified version of the Shaftesbury’s Act for the Regulation of the Care and Treatment of Lunatics passed on 4 August 1845. The Digest also incorporated the spirit of provisions of the English Act, and that was the benchmark expected after 1869 (Lee 1978, 206).

An outbreak of cholera in the Asylum and the surrounding Kandang Kerbau area in July 1873 (Ng 2001, 15) necessitated a temporary shift of the Government General Hospital’s patients to the military hospital at Sepoy Lines, an area adjacent to Chinatown and Pearl’s Hill where Indian troops were stationed to guard Singapore(Lee 1990, 7). Soon after, it was decided that the shift was to be permanent, so construction of a proper building began (Lee 1990, 7).

At the same time, a new site for the Asylum was being sought so that occupation therapy could be introduced (Ng 2001, 15). It was decided that the Asylum would also shift to Sepoy Lines (Ng 2001, 15). The General Hospital was completed in 1882 (Lee 1990, 7). A second cholera outbreak in August 1887 forced Dr Tripp, Acting Surgeon in charge of the Asylum, to call for an early shift to the new building (Ng 2001, 16).

The new Asylum was built on cottage principles (Ng 2001, 16) with a series of detached buildings (Lee 1990, 7), and had accommodation and work facilities. Based on John Collony’s ideas, the lunatics were assigned accommodation first by gender and second by type of mental illness (Ng 2001, 16). Treatments no longer focused solely on purgatives and included sedatives.

Additionally, it was thought that “a medical man skilled in lunacy should be given charge of the Asylum” (Ng 2001, 17), so Dr William Gilmore Ellis, the first medical specialist to be appointed in Singapore, took over from Dr Tripp (Ng 2001, 18). He said that effective treatment was difficult because the lunatics came from all over the region and it was near impossible to gather each individual’s medical history (Ng 2001, 26). Dr Ellis also abolished strait jackets and the only mechanical restraint used was locked gloves (Ng 2001, 18). He showed that the mentally ill could be treated by doctors without loss of dignity, just like any other patient (Ng 2001, 2).

Treatment in those days was based on the idea that treatment should be “holistic and focused upon the lifestyle of the patient”, so “crucial elements included ‘kindness, freedom from restraint, regular hours, good food, open air exercise and occupation. Little luxuries such as betel-nut and tobacco were given’” (Ng 2001, 17).

Since the shift to Sepoy Lines, there were no big changes. In 1903, female lunatics were moved to the Pasir Panjang ward (which was used to house patients of beri-beri) to make way for the Straits and Federated Malay States Medical School (Ng 2001, 20; Samuel 1991, 185), later renamed as King Edward VII College of Medicine in 1921. Male lunatics remained at Sepoy Lines till overcrowding resulted in their eventual transfer to Pasir Panjang in 1907 as well, and then to Central Mental Hospital at Tanjong Rambutan in Perak in 1914 (Ng 2001, 21).

In the 1920s, the government decided to make use of the medical graduates to staff a new asylum (Ng 2001, 22). Right up to that point, care for the mentally ill was the responsibility of a few expatriate nurses and health attendants who lacked training in nursing (IMH 2003, 16). On 3 November 1924, the Legislative Council debated the construction of the new Mental Hospital (Ng 2001, 22). Construction began in early 1926 and was completed in the latter half of 1928. The Mental Hospital was located off Yio Chu Kang Road (Ng 2001, 22).

Dr E. R. Stone had taken over as the first medical superintendent and in his 1928 report, he pinpointed “privation and starvation…heredity, alcohol, fevers and critical periods of life” (Ng 2001, 23) as causes of mental illness. 1928 also witnessed the introduction of farm work, which was the earliest semblance to rehabilitation (Ng 2001, 23). To further improve treatment and the overall running of the Hospital, a request was made in 1929 for an Assistant Medical Superintendent who had Diplomas in Psychological Medicine and Tropical Medicine and Hygiene, as well as experience in farming and gardening (Ng 2001, 23).

Two things were of particular interest at the Hospital. First was an attendance-taking machine. It was a metallic box installed with a ‘keying-in’ device (Ng 2001, 24). “Once ‘keyed-in’, a time-keeping device in the telephone operator’s room would be activated and a graph could then be plot” (Ng 2001, 24).

The second was the clock tower that carried the Hospital bell, which was cast in Leicester, England (Ng 2001, 24). “Each of the four sides of the clock tower had a clock face and was even illuminated in the hours of darkness. The bell was rung three times daily at 5.00am, noon and 4.30pm to announce mealtimes, and chimed to herald festive occasions, to mark the change of work shifts and to alert staff of patients absconding from wards” (Ng 2001, 24). The importance of the bell diminished with time and by the 1950s, it served only as a fire alarm and amusement for the inmates as some of them were known to have climbed up the tower to ring the bell for fun (Ng 2001, 24).

The author has just completed her first year as a Psychology major in the University Scholars Programme at the National Univeristy of Singapore. She is interested in social psychology, biological psychology and abnormal psychology. She hopes to work in a hospital setting in the future, and hence the choice of topic for the essay. The Institute of Mental Health is the largest local medical facility for the mentally ill and I feel it should have a properly compiled history. Outside my major, I love reading up on history, especially on ancient civilizations such as India and Athens, and mythology.

Reference List

Ng, Beng Yeong. 2001. Till the Break of Day: A History of Mental Health Services in Singapore, 1841–1993. Singapore: Singapore University Press.

Lee, Yong Kiat. December 1978. “The Lunatic Asylum in Early Singapore (1819-1869)”. Chapter 5 in The Medical History of Singapore. Singapore: Southeast Asian Medical Information Centre (SEAMIC), a special project of the International Medical Foundation of Japan (IMFJ) started in April 1977.

Institute of Mental Health/Woodbridge Hospital <(Singapore). 2003. Loving Hearts, Beautiful Minds: Woodbridge Hospital Celebrating 75 years. Singapore: Armour Publishing Pte Ltd.

Ng, Beng Yeong. 2001. “History of Psychiatry in Singapore”. Section 1, Chapter 2, in Psychiatry for Doctors, edited by Kua Ee Hock, Ko Soo Meng and Lionel Lim Chee Chong. Singapore: Armour Publishing Pte Ltd.

Lee, Edwin. March 1990. Historic Buildings of Singapore. Singapore: Preservation of Monuments Board.

“Indian Rebellion of 1857 – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.” Indian Rebellion of 1857. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_mutiny. (Accessed on 17 April 2008.)

Samuel, Dhoraisingam S. December 1991. Singapore’s Heritage: Through Places of Historical Interest. Singapore: Elixir Consultancy Service.

Continuing The Early Years (1819-1840)

Completed in 1841, the Insane Hospital was situated at the corner of Bras Basah Road and Bencoolen Street (Ng 2001, 9; IMH 2003, 16). In spite of the unfortunate death that occurred, due regard was still not given to mental health care. Conditions at the Hospital were not better than had been at Convict Gaol. It was a 30-bed hospital, and “the number of lunatics seldom exceeded 30 or 40” (Ng 2001, 9). The lunatics were taken care of by warders who also guarded the convicts jailed in the adjacent brick structure (Ng 2001, 9).

Colonel W. J. Butterworth was made Governor of the Settlements on 14 June 1843 (Lee 1978, 196). On his familiarisation tour of government institutions, he noticed the poor conditions at the Hospital (Ng 2001, 9; Lee 1978, 196). On 20 June 1844, the Singapore Free Press reported one of nine Presentations by the Grand Jury, who played an important role in influencing the management of lunatics in Singapore and whose role was different from those in criminal courts (Lee 1978, 195). The Grand Jurors had noted that little was being done to care for the mentally ill in addition to the lack of space at the Hospital (Lee 1978, 196).

Governor Butterworth was annoyed as he had believed improvements would have been made since his last visit (Lee 1978, 196). He then ordered that the Hospital be put under the personal charge of Dr Thomas Oxley, who had become Senior Surgeon in 1844 (Ng 2001, 9; IMH 2003, 16). Dr Oxley’s first step was to appoint Assistant Apothecary Henry Lloyd, a qualified medical person, to be in charge of the Hospital and personally answerable to him for the care of the lunatics (Lee 1978, 197).

By February 1846, Dr Oxley reported improvements in the Hospital conditions (Ng 2001, 9; IMH 2003, 16; Lee 1978, 197). He was also actively sourcing for avenues to supplement the Hospital income (Lee 1978, 197). Dr Oxley made three such attempts. The first was picking oakum for sale. The second was basket weaving (Ng 2001, 9; Lee 1978, 197), which was the earliest semblance to occupational therapy (IMH 2003, 16). The money earned from the sale of oakum and baskets provided for two sets of clothing per person (IMH 2003, 16).

The third was the manufacturing of gutta percha (nutmeg) sheets for surgical purposes to be sold to the Medical Board at Calcutta at ten percent below market rate (Lee 1978, 198). This failed because the Board found better quality ones could be produced elsewhere (Lee 1978, 198). Additionally, Dr Oxley introduced a system of non-restraint and attempted to change the Hospital’s public image. But the latter was to no avail due to prevalent misconceptions (Lee 1978, 197).

Throughout the colonial period, “isolation of the insane with proper justification was then thought necessary and custodial care was the mainstay of the day” (Ng 2001, 9). Treatments were administered under the belief that mental illness was caused by “a foreign body that had to be expelled from the body” (Ng 2001, 11). Hence, all lunatics were forced to take purgatives which induced diarrhoea and vomiting once every month, regardless of their physical condition. For those who were “under peculiar excitement”, “soothing medicines” were given and they were locked in their cells without restraints (Ng 2001, 18).

1847 and 1848 were uneventful save for the persisting shortage of accommodation at the Hospital. Under these circumstances, Dr Oxley was forced to discharge “harmless” patients to make room for more “dangerous” ones (Lee 1978, 197). Act IV of 1849 worsened the overcrowding (Lee 1978, 198). It stated that people who broke the law when of unsound mind would not be sent to jail but to the Hospital instead (Lee 1978, 198). This was Singapore’s first legislation regarding the mentally ill, and the first person committed under the Act was Lim Say Soon who was charged for murder on 21 August 1848 (Lee 1978, 198).

Since Dr Oxley’s complaints about the overcrowding were ignored, on 11 April 1849, he wrote to absolve his staff from blame should anything untoward happen if more people were sent to the Hospital (Lee 1978, 198). When the Grand Jury looked into the issue on 24 April 1850 following a spate of contagious skin disease in the Hospital, Dr Oxley took the chance to reiterate his point and highlight the poor living conditions at the Hospital (Lee 1978, 198). As a result, on 17 May 1850, the Governor gave orders for the Hospital to be disinfected as a temporary measure and that plans for a new extension to be submitted (Lee 1978, 198).

Together with the Superintending Engineer, Dr Oxley submitted a proposal suggesting that the old building be kept for those “whose insanity is at times of a violent character” and the new building for those who would respond to medical treatment. The plan was approved by the Government of Bengal on 9 August 1850 (Lee 1978, 199). Finally, the Hospital was enlarged in 1851, increasing accommodation to forty-eight beds (Lee 1978, 199). Unfortunately, this was for a hundred and thirty-one patients (Ng 2001, 11).

A typical day at the Hospital in the 1850s consisted of work (picking oakum and cleaning of dormitories) and exercise, as well as breakfast and dinner at 9am and 3pm respectively. Meals were the same everyday – rice, curry and fish. Clothing was only changed every Sunday (Ng 2001, 11; Lee 1978, 199).

Only locals were admitted to the Insane Hospital. Europeans sent to the European Seamen’s Hospital as they considered it an “insult” (Ng 2001, 12) to be put among the locals. However, they caused serious problems as shown in a letter written by the Medical Officer in-charge dated 25 June 1850. A George Fox had struck a Chinese Toty (attendant) as a result of a lack of “means of properly confining or efficiently watching him” (Lee 1978, 199).

As a result, policy was changed to authorise Medical Officers to send Europeans to the Insane Hospital (Ng 2001, 12; Lee 1978, 199). As expected, this policy was not well-received among the Europeans (Ng 2001, 12). For example, the French Consul had protested when Louis Allard, a Frenchman, was admitted in February 1852 (Lee 1978, 199). Hence, the few insane Europeans were sent back to Europe unless they were poor (Ng 2001, 12; Lee 1978, 199).

On 17 August 1853, the Grand Jury suggested that the old Hospital building be torn down because it was inappropriate for convicts to be put in the Hospital by the Superintendent of Convicts as punishment (Lee 1978, 199). Dr Oxley was infuriated as this was untrue. Admissions were approved of only by himself and the Superintendent of Police. Further worsening the overcrowding, lunatics from Malacca were transferred to the Hospital. Dr Oxley’s subsequent request for more staff was also turned down (Lee 1978, 200).

A few months before his retirement in 1857 (Ng 2001, 12), on 7 April 1856, Dr Oxley brought up the issue of overcrowding to the Governor once again (Lee 1978, 200). No action was taken until a donation of $3,600 was made by Low Joon Teck and Chung Sam Teo, two Chinese merchants who had government monopoly to sell opium in Singapore (Lee 1978, 200). The Governor immediately wrote to India to build “a medical complex which would include a new General Hospital, Lunatic Asylum, Medical Stores and Dispensary” (Lee 1978, 200). The Indian government approved, but stated that the Government would provide fully for the Asylum while the donation from the merchants would be used solely for the General Hospital and the Asylum should be separate from the General Hospital (Lee 1978, 200).

Ironically, the former decision slowed the process rather than hastening it. When the Indian Mutiny broke out on 10 May 1857 in Meerut, India, government spending was limited to those of military importance. Work on the General Hospital continued, but since no funds were available for the Asylum, the old one was simply repaired (Lee 1978, 201).

With an increasing number of people being admitted, inadequacy of existing facilities and the passing of Act XXXVI of 1858 that allowed for the Government to establish Lunatic Asylums, the Governor-General finally agreed to build the new Asylum as planned in 1856. There were also plans for the Asylum to cater to the needs of the entire Straits Settlements and hence the rejection of a proposal to build an Asylum in Malacca for lunatics there. The proposal had been made because those from Malacca were unwelcome due to the lack of space here (Lee 1978, 201).

1861 saw two changes to the Insane Hospital. Its premises was now at a site near Kandang Kerbau Maternity Hospital and the Hospital was renamed the Lunatic Asylum (Ng 2001, 13). The larger building was put aside for mild cases of lunacy while the smaller buildings, where confinement cells were located, were designated for dangerous lunatics (Ng 2001, 13; Lee 1978, 203). There was a deliberate effort to have “shrubs, flower beds and grass plots” (Ng 2001, 13) in the grounds around the Asylum in order to create a pleasant environment.

Although nearly doubling in size to 100 beds, the average number of lunatics admitted was 119 (Ng 2001, 14). The number of lunatics increased tremendously because few died or were ever discharged. The general consensus was that “mental maladies are seldom fatal and generally permanent” (Ng 2001, 13). Lack of space and facilities at the Asylum were constantly reported to the government in the 1870s, but to no avail (Ng 2001, 14).

Continue: Mental Health towards the Twentieth Century

Reference List

Ng, Beng Yeong. 2001. Till the Break of Day: A History of Mental Health Services in Singapore, 1841–1993. Singapore: Singapore University Press.

Lee, Yong Kiat. December 1978. “The Lunatic Asylum in Early Singapore (1819-1869)”. Chapter 5 in The Medical History of Singapore. Singapore: Southeast Asian Medical Information Centre (SEAMIC), a special project of the International Medical Foundation of Japan (IMFJ) started in April 1977.

Institute of Mental Health/Woodbridge Hospital <(Singapore). 2003. Loving Hearts, Beautiful Minds: Woodbridge Hospital Celebrating 75 years. Singapore: Armour Publishing Pte Ltd.

Ng, Beng Yeong. 2001. “History of Psychiatry in Singapore”. Section 1, Chapter 2, in Psychiatry for Doctors, edited by Kua Ee Hock, Ko Soo Meng and Lionel Lim Chee Chong. Singapore: Armour Publishing Pte Ltd.

Lee, Edwin. March 1990. Historic Buildings of Singapore. Singapore: Preservation of Monuments Board.

“Indian Rebellion of 1857 – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.” Indian Rebellion of 1857. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_mutiny. (Accessed on 17 April 2008.)

Samuel, Dhoraisingam S. December 1991. Singapore’s Heritage: Through Places of Historical Interest. Singapore: Elixir Consultancy Service.

Mental health in Singapore has its roots in the West. The first medical personnel in the field were mostly from Britain. Medical education in the early years was almost exclusively for the British, until the establishment of King Edward VII College of Medicine on the island in 1907. Hence, many ideas influential through the years flowed over from the West.

When Sir Stamford Raffles set foot on the island on 28 January 1819, he had with him Sub-Assistant Surgeon Thomas Prendergast, who was the medical officer-in-charge in the expedition. In May, he was joined by Assistant Surgeon William Montgomerie, a more senior officer. Their duties were of military and civil nature, and they served in Singapore till 1823 and 1827 respectively before returning to Bengal (Lee 1978, 194).

In June 1827, the medical duties were shared between Surgeon B. C. Henderson and Assistant Surgeon Warrand, who came with a detachment of troops to relieve Montgomerie. Henderson was responsible for the General and Pauper Hospitals while Warrand was responsible for the convicts and troops (Lee 1978, 194). No institution for the mentally ill was available then.

Prior to 1819, the population of the island was estimated to be only about a hundred and fifty (Ng 2001, 7). After 1819, the population grew at a rapid pace, due to migrants from the Southeast Asian region, China and India coming Singapore to take advantage of the employment opportunities generated by a growing entrepot trade (Ng 2001, 7). As a result of this large influx of penniless people, overcrowding, bad living conditions and a habit of opium smoking led to a high rate of physical and mental illness (Ng 2001, 7; IMH 2003, 15).

However, the medical needs of the natives were not British priorities (IMH 2003, 16). Provision of health and medical facilities and services was limited because the government felt that the population was made up of immigrants who were not planning to make Singapore their home (Ng 2001, 7). The mentally ill were referred to as “insane”, and unless they were deemed dangerous, they were left to their own devices (Ng 2001, 8). This meant an almost complete neglect of the mentally ill.

The first sign of the need to care for the mentally ill was a request to send John Hanson, a Dane who had lived in Singapore for about five years, “to Calcutta or any other place where a Lunatic Asylum may be established” by the Superintendent of Police S. G. Bonham to the Secretary to Government in 1828 (Lee 1978, 194). In a report by acting Senior Surgeon W. E. E. Conwell, it was noted that Hanson was being treated at the Singapore Infirmary and was otherwise confined in a jail since there was no suitable place for people like him (Lee 1978, 194). However, even after Straits Settlements in 1832 and the headquarters of the Medical Department in 1835 (Lee 1978, 194; Ng 2001, xix), there was still no institution for the mentally ill.

The jail was called the Convict Gaol, and lunatics were taken care of by the inmates (Ng 2001, 8). Conditions in the jail were far from ideal, overcrowding remaining the biggest problem. In 1835, Senior Surgeon William Montgomerie, who was promoted and returned to Singapore in 1832, received orders for himself and Assistant Surgeon Thomas Oxley to continue visiting the lunatics and convicts in the jail in their capacity as Medical Officers (Lee 1978, 194).

Hence, instead of improving mental health care, the practice of putting lunatics in jail became more ingrained. Special allowances were given to the Sheriff’s Department, instead of the Medical Department, for care of lunatics – for instance: “Gaoler 25 Rupees; Overseer 15 Rupees; Two Convicts 10 Rupees” (Lee 1978, 194).

There were remonstrations from the public. In the Singapore Free Press on 21 February 1838, a contributor to the forum section argued that “it has been proved that in recent cases of insanity under judicious treatment, as large a proportion of recoveries will take place as from any other acute disease of equal severity” (Lee 1978, 195).

The Editor of the newspaper also highlighted the fact that “there is space enough in the hospital yard to construct a suitable building for their reception, and we hope that the absolute necessity there exists for providing something in the nature of a Lunatic Asylum will not be overlooked.” (Ng 2001, 8; Lee 1978, 195) Despite this, little was done to improve the situation.

The wakeup call came in October 1840, when one of the lunatics was killed by another in the jail (Ng 2001, 8; IMH 2003, 16; Lee 1978, 195). Bonham, who had become Governor by then, immediately requested that Montgomerie write “a report on the number and state of the lunatics under treatment, and also suggestions for their better management” (Ng 2001, 8; Lee 1978, 195). Montgomerie reported on 16 November 1840 that there were 22 insane patients and he expected that the yearly average of seventeen patients would increase with growth of the settlement (Lee 1978, 195).

In the report, he also suggested the Lunatic Asylum be built for 24 patients and should anymore room be needed, buildings would be added on. In addition, floors “should be laid with bricks on edge, embedded in good mortar so as to admit of being washed, and prevent the patients lifting the floors, which constructed with tiles as in the Jail, they have been enabled to do so;” and “wood for the walls and bed places in consequence of very bad effects having arisen from patients in the Jail having destroyed the bed places and by squatting on the floor and leaning against cold walls, have in several instances cramped their limbs and stiffened their joints so as to cause lameness.” (Lee 1978, 195) He did not suggest sending lunatics to India because he felt that they would feel more comfortable “among their countrymen than among strangers” (Lee 1978, 195, Ng 2001, 9).

On 28 November 1840, Governor Bonham presented the case to the Government of Bengal. The Governor of Bengal accepted the plan on the recommendation of the Military and Medical Boards. The Asylum was to be built for “’the custody of the patients’ and the same number of staff attended them as when they were in the Jail” (Lee 1978, 196). The resolution, dated 12 May 1841, had stated that the “gross expense [was] not to exceed $775.10” (Ng 2001, 9). The eventual expenditure proved to be slightly higher (Ng 2001, 9).

Continued in The First Hospital for the Mentally Ill (1841-1928)

Reference List

Ng, Beng Yeong. 2001. Till the Break of Day: A History of Mental Health Services in Singapore, 1841–1993. Singapore: Singapore University Press.

Lee, Yong Kiat. December 1978. “The Lunatic Asylum in Early Singapore (1819-1869)”. Chapter 5 in The Medical History of Singapore. Singapore: Southeast Asian Medical Information Centre (SEAMIC), a special project of the International Medical Foundation of Japan (IMFJ) started in April 1977.

Institute of Mental Health/Woodbridge Hospital <(Singapore). 2003. Loving Hearts, Beautiful Minds: Woodbridge Hospital Celebrating 75 years. Singapore: Armour Publishing Pte Ltd.

Ng, Beng Yeong. 2001. “History of Psychiatry in Singapore”. Section 1, Chapter 2, in Psychiatry for Doctors, edited by Kua Ee Hock, Ko Soo Meng and Lionel Lim Chee Chong. Singapore: Armour Publishing Pte Ltd.

Lee, Edwin. March 1990. Historic Buildings of Singapore. Singapore: Preservation of Monuments Board.

“Indian Rebellion of 1857 – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.” Indian Rebellion of 1857. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_mutiny. (Accessed on 17 April 2008.)

Samuel, Dhoraisingam S. December 1991. Singapore’s Heritage: Through Places of Historical Interest. Singapore: Elixir Consultancy Service.