Is Singapore a humorless society? Do Singaporeans take themselves too seriously? Since Singaporeans rank low in international surveys on happiness, and since fun and laughter are an invariable expression of happiness, are Singaporeans truly lacking in this universally valued attribute of a sense of humor?

Yes and No.

Yes, if you go by the official face of Singapore, of the men—and women—in white, especially on formal occasions when they maintain a stern forbidding appearance, modeled on the austere, no-nonsense mien of Mr Lee Kuan Yew, the founder of modern Singapore, who has no time for light-hearted wit and banter. Even at social functions and private parties where ministers have been invited in their private capacities, I have noticed that they don’t seem able to completely cast off their serious, earnest demeanour, as if afraid of letting down their guard and revealing official information that might later give rise to rumours that Singaporeans seem so fond of.

No, if you go by the unofficial, informal face of Singapore society which, like every society in the world, loves laughter, especially of the satirical kind that takes a dig at officialdom. Countless are the jokes circulating in the coffee-shops, cafes and clubs, at cocktail and dinner parties, indeed wherever Singaporeans meet to chat and relax.

There are the jokes that are not at all original, being localized versions of well-known ones, for instance those about the late American President Lyndon Johnson who was well known for his Messianic image of himself. So the president is one day driving his car in the capacity of a private citizen, when he ignores the traffic lights, and is stopped by a very conscientious traffic cop. When the man comes near enough to recognise the president, he steps back in horror and gasps, ‘Oh my God!’ and Johnson says sternly, ‘That’s right, my boy, and don’t you forget it!’ On another occasion the president is shopping for a suitable burial plot for himself. He finds one that he likes and asks for the price. ‘Five thousand dollars,’ he is told. ‘What!’ is his response. ‘When I’m going to use it for only three days?’

Because of Lee Kuan Yew’s immense stature and near-god status in Singapore, inspiring great awe and fear (especially the fear of being sued and reduced to bankruptcy) these jokes, needing only a change of name, are cheerfully circulated about him.

I had the temerity to end a political speech I gave some years ago, with a humorous poem on precisely this aspect of Mr Lee’s status. It was based on a well-known pronouncement made by Mr Lee to emphasize his total commitment to the well-being of Singapore: he said that even if dead and inside his coffin, should he hear of any threat to Singapore’s security, he would get up at once and solve it. My speech was published in a local newspaper which however left out the poem. With a delicious sense of mischief, I present it here:

*The coffin was enormous
To match the god-like status,
For both in life and death,
He was a true colossus.

Someone who, with the opposition,
Was clearly in cahoots,
Whispered, ‘Ah, a new dawn!
No more defamation suits.’

At which the corpse sprang right up,
‘Who said that?’ it roared,
‘He’s defaming my good name,
So get our lawyers on board!’*

Singaporeans take special delight in showing that the brilliant economic achievements of the leaders are not exactly matched by social finesse. There is this well-known joke about Minister Wong Kan Seng: he attends a formal dinner somewhere in Europe where his host says to him ‘Bon appetit!’ and he replies, ‘Wong Kan Seng.’ An aide whispers to him that he should have responded with the same expression of table etiquette. So he takes the first opportunity to say to his host, ‘Bon appetit!’ and the host responds by saying, ‘Wong Kan Seng.’ It is a joke that unfailingly provokes laughter, probably in the good-natured Mr Wong himself.

The Singaporean sense of humour gets a boost from the special form of Chinese names which are, with very few exceptions, monosyllabic—Tan, Lee, Goh, Chin, Pang, Wu, Wong—thus lending themselves easily to the pun. This may be the lowest form of humour, but Singaporeans have a field day punning on the names of the Chinese ministers and members of parliament. Mr Wong Kan Seng’s name seems to be an easy target for any joke or riddle related to any subject connected to singing or talentime contests, for it allows for the punchline: ‘Wong can’t sing!’

Singaporeans were rather astonished when Mr Lee Kuan Yew publicly made known that his first choice of successor was not Goh Chok Tong who was then Prime Minister, but Dr Tony Tan, a cabinet minister. Beyond the discomfiture felt on behalf of the popular Mr Goh, the revelation has provided the opportunity for an ingenious use of the pun for hilarious effect. So, goes the joke, there was a period when Mr Lee was unsure about whom to choose. A group of anxious PAP officials approached him to find out his decision. He waved them away impatiently and said, ‘Go, go!’ Now if he had been less impatient and had moreover spoken in Hokkien, saying, ‘Tan, Tan’, which means ‘Wait, wait,’ the succession line would have been completely different.

Unrepeatable and unprintable, of course, are the Singaporean jokes that pun on hapless names like ‘Kok’,'Tuck’, ‘Fatt’.

It is said that the exuberant street humour of Singaporeans is a kind of compensation for the dourness at the top. Whatever the reason, it is something they are unlikely to—indeed, must never—lose.

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A continuing flow of little, readable pieces that will constitute what I feel is an important 'legacy of values' to leave behind. Read more about Vignettes...