Naming public transport and historicising experiences: Critical toponymies and everyday multilingualism in Singapore’s mass rapid transit system

Introduction

The importance of public transport in urban societies is well-documented. Vukan Vuchic likens public transportation to the ‘lifeblood’ of urban spaces, because it moves the population around the city (Vuchic cited in Poliak et al., 2017: 82).

Public transport facilitates cities’ economic growth by decreasing congestion and raising productivity. By reducing the reliance on cars, public transport also mitigates environmental degradation and pollution. Such trends are observed in urban areas worldwide – from Sweden (Stjernborg and Mattisson, 2016), to Germany (Buehler and Pucher, 2009), from Australia (Smart, 2008), to Japan (Pojani and Stead, 2015), to Turkey (Cengiz, 2017). At the social level, taking public transportation can be a double-edged sword: on the one hand, it facilitates interaction amongst passengers and thus fosters social cohesion. Raudenbush (2012) argues that through taking public transportation, individuals express their own perspectives whilst listening to and interpreting others’ viewpoints. This produces ‘spontaneous instantiations of social cohesion and collective identity’ (Raudenbush, 2012: 470). On the other hand, issues of ‘differentiation and exclusion’ in public transportation (Wilson, 2011: 635) can lead to the racialisation, stigmatisation and intolerance of sexual and ethnic minorities and differently-abled people (Koefoed et al., 2017).

While the links between public transport and toponymy may seem obscure, the naming trends of public transport systems offers insights into the socio-linguistic landscapes and history of a place (Cumbe, 2016). This is hardly surprising, since toponyms tell us how people compartmentalise and interact with their geospatial, socio-political and cultural environments (Brown, 2008). Moreover, toponyms are cultural and historical symbols of a place (Qian et al., 2016). More importantly, place names foster a sense of identity amongst locals and ‘open up for a broader and more intimate knowledge of places’ (Helleland, 2012: 109). In short, toponyms are valuable linguistic, geographical, socio-cultural and historical information.

Notwithstanding, public transport, as in the case of most urban spaces, is key to Singapore’s liveability and sustainability. Its public transport system is ranked among the best in the world (Wong, 2018) and serves over 7.54 million passengers daily (Tan, 2019). At the same time, the relationship between public transport and toponyms in Singapore has received little attention. Insofar, research on public transport in Singapore details and evaluates public transport policies (Lam and Toan, 2006; Lee and Palliyani, 2017; Looi and Choi, 2016; Santos et al., 2004) while scholarly work on toponymy in 21st-century Singapore largely focuses on street names (Ng, 2017; Perono Cacciafoco and Tuang, 2018; Savage and Yeoh, 2003, 2013).

MRT names are toponyms in their own right; they are closely connected with geography, society, culture, public space and public transport. MRT station names (see Figure 1), according to the Land Transport Authority (LTA), ‘…identify the location, illustrate the history and heritage of the station's surrounding and reflect Singapore's multiracial and multicultural character where possible’ (Hoe, 2013).

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Figure 1.

Singapore MRT and LRT system map.

Consequently, this paper historicises the experiences of Singapore’s rail system. It draws out key themes, particularly, the contesting socio-political and economic considerations present when MRT was built. Socio-political and linguistic realms also influenced the names of Singapore’s early MRT stations, and hence, demonstrate an application of Critical Toponymies, where the naming of places is considered ‘a socially embedded act, one that involves power relations’ (Vuolteenaho and Berg, 2009: 9) as played out in the Singapore rail system during the 1980s. Additionally, through the linguistic analysis of MRT station names on the East West Line (EWL) and North South Line (NSL) – the two oldest MRT lines in Singapore – one notes how taking the rail system, arguably a public space, involves what the authors term as everyday multilingualism, a term borrowed from everyday multiculturalism, or ‘the everyday practice and lived experience of diversity in specific situations and spaces of encounter’ (Wise and Velayutham, 2009: 3).

Historicising experiences on Singapore’s MRT

Public transport is frequently framed as a site for contemporary ethnographies (Lobo, 2014; Rogalsky, 2010; Symes, 2007). Consequently, the historical accounts of public transport tend to be neglected and compounded by the fact that Urban Studies has a present time-focus. While there is some research on this area, like literary works that historicise urban public transport and public space (Pearce, 2019), further efforts can be made to historicise public transport. We focus on historicising the MRT because it is important to Singaporeans; the MRT exemplifies the nation’s post-independence success (Lim and Ho, 2015). While the authors have traced the history of the MRT in an earlier paper (Lim and Perono Cacciafoco, 2020), this section details several important themes that emerge in the development of Singapore’s MRT system.

Younger Singaporeans may feel that the MRT is timeless and an integral part of Singapore. However, the MRT was not immediately approved and constructed. While the MRT was first mooted in 1971 under the Singapore Ring Concept Plan which recommended it serve the densely populated city area (The Straits Times, 1971), the green light to build the MRT was only given in 1982, and the first five stations of the NSL from Toa Payoh to Yio Chu Kang opened to Singaporeans on 7 November 1987. Meanwhile, the first stretch of the EWL between City Hall to Outram Park opened on 12 December 1987. In short, it took over 15 years from the time the system was first suggested to when it was officially launched – a long waiting time in a fast-paced society where policies are thought out long before their announcement and implemented swiftly and efficiently. The decision to build the MRT presented a huge dilemma to Singapore’s government. On the one hand, it presented a means of making Singapore’s transport system less automobile and bus-centric, which proved untenable in the long-run, especially since the MRT system was ‘considered superior to the other alternatives with which it has been compared’ (Wilbur Smith and Associates, 1974: 18). On the other hand, however, significant capital was required to build the transport system, a sum which grew from S$400 million in 1972 to S$5 billion by the time the government approved its construction in 1982. To the government, this was a huge sum to part with, given the demands of a newly independent country, and hence, it was not immediately approved in the 1970s.

While the second phase of the two-part Singapore Mass Transit Study found only a ‘remote’ possibility of financial risks in building the MRT (Wilbur Smith and Associates, 1977: 36), the government did not proceed with the proposed system, because it wanted no mistakes due to the ‘magnitude of the project’ (New Nation, 1978). In this context, one witnesses the pragmatism that characterises Singaporean decision-making, defined as ‘the commitment to rationality with the aim of achieving practical results, particularly in order to ensure continuous economic growth’ (Chua, 1995: 68). The high cost and great scale of the MRT project, with no guarantee of ‘practical results’, could even hinder economic growth should it go awry, meaning that the government was, understandably, extremely reluctant to implement the system, or at least approve it immediately.

Pragmatism is also evident in the policy- formation process termed as ‘pragmatic acculturation’ (Quah, 1995) that undergirded the MRT decision. Pragmatic acculturation comprises three steps: problem identification and sending a team of experts and officials on a fact-finding tour to find out how other countries solve these problems; inviting internationally renowned experts to give their opinions; and formulating the policy tailored to meet Singapore’s specific needs. Yet, while Singapore looked to other countries and foreign experts for advice, this did not mean a wholesale adoption – if the ideas used elsewhere are unsuitable for the Singaporean context, they were not adopted. In the pre-construction phase, the problem of traffic congestion was identified and both overseas and local experts (e.g., the World Bank, Harvard University and local government ministries like the Ministry of National Development and the Ministry of Defence) were asked for their professional opinions in the 1970s. Although other cities like London, New York and Tokyo had railway systems, there was no rush to emulate these metropolises, ostensibly due to the high costs. In this sense, Singapore’s MRT story is thus reminiscent of other cases of public transport planning, which is influenced by concerns other than the provision of mobility (Olesen, 2020).

A critical toponymic perspective on Singaporean MRT names

Traditional approaches to studying place names have often focussed on studying their meanings and etymologies of toponyms. Under the historical linguistic approach, place names are treated as innocent and apolitical. However, because place names are enmeshed with ‘power relations and social antagonisms’ (Vuolteenaho and Berg, 2009: 12), analysing them from a purely linguistic lens does not account for the power relations behind why one place name is chosen over another. Consequently, over the last 20 years, the field of Critical Toponymies has received significant attention. At its core, Critical Toponymies advocates the study of place names as ‘“social facts” embedded in intricate cultural interrelations and tension-filled conceptions of space’ (Vuolteenaho and Berg, 2009: 9). Toponyms are a representation of the socio-political, cultural and increasingly, economic ideologies of the ruling order. Scholars like Rose-Redwood (2006, 2008) have written about how place names and the place naming processes produce ‘calculable spaces amenable to government control’ (Brocket, 2021: 545). The critical approach to toponymy considers the connections between urban space, power and identity (Light and Young, 2015). Place names, according to Verdery (1999), is a key mechanism by which the urban space is infused with political and ideological values. The term ‘city-text’ has been coined to discuss how politics, ideology and economic interests intervene in the naming of streets and memorials (Palonen, 2008). Singapore’s MRT station names are akin to city-texts found in the city-state and although these names appear to be factual, they are intertwined with the linguistic, socio-political and economic ideologies of the ruling People’s Action Party (PAP).

The names along the NSL and EWL are a projection of the government’s language policies inscribed onto the urban cityscape. Analysing the NSL and ESL is particularly significant as unlike the names of stations on newer MRT lines – like the Circle Line (CCL), Downtown Line (DTL) and Thomson East Coast Line (TEL), which commuters can vote on – the names of the stations along these two MRT lines were decided by the MRT Corporation (MRTC), the government organisation responsible for constructing the MRT system in the 1980s. English is the foremost language used to name MRT stations; a total of 24 out of 62 stations have English names (38.71%). Examples include City Hall (an interchange which serves the EWL and NWL), Outram Park (EWL), Orchard (NSL) and Somerset (NSL). The fact that English has been frequently utilised supports the status of English as a lingua franca that links Singapore to the world (Pakir, 2010). This linguistic choice was, unsurprisingly, governed by economic pragmatism because English could provide Singapore access to international rade and English educational resources (Low, 2017). Malay, Singapore’s national language, is the second most common language used. Fifteen MRT stations (24.19%) are named in Malay, and this includes Tanah Merah‘red earth/land’ (EWL), Paya Lebar‘wide swamp’ (EWL) and Bukit Gombak‘a collection of hills’ (NSL). The presence of two or more languages in a single MRT name is also evident, with nine MRT stations (14.52%) exhibiting such a practice. The most common sequence being Malay+English (e.g., Jurong East which is an interchange on both the NSL and EWL and Changi Airport on the EWL). Furthermore, four MRT stations (6.45%) are named in languages not commonly spoken in Singapore such as Arabic (Aljunied on the EWL), Italian (Buona Vista on the EWL), Hindi (Dhoby Ghaut on the NSL) and even Latin (Novena on the NSL). Although the government has promoted the use of Mandarin Chinese over Chinese dialects ¹ in Singapore, there are six MRT stations (9.68%) named in Chinese dialects. This is slightly more than the number named in Mandarin Chinese, that is, four stations (6.45%). Dialectal station names have not been removed. In fact, stations with dialectal names are some of Singapore’s busiest stations. One such example is Ang Mo Kio‘red hair devils’, which probably retained its dialectal name because it the surrounding street has the same name. Ang Mo Kio MRT station is located along 2450 Ang Mo Kio Avenue 8 and can help the commuter identify the station easily.

This is not to say that all dialectal names were left untouched by the MRTC. In 1984, they announced that San Teng on the NSL would be renamed as Bishan to align with the new housing board flats in the surrounding neighbourhood of the same name (The Straits Times, 1984: 10). Bishan, known formerly as Kampong San Teng, was derived from Peck San Teng (碧山亭), the Cantonese name of a Chinese cemetery which meant ‘pavilions on the green’. The name change of Bishan reflects the toponymic milieu of pinyinising place names in the 1980s. Pinyinisation relies on Hanyu Pinyin; the latter is based on a Romanised system of transcribing Mandarin Chinese characters based on their Mandarin pronunciation. During the 1980s, rather than using the dialectal pronunciation of names like Peck San and Nee Soon (another station along the NSL), the MRTC decided that the station names, Bishan and Yishun, should be in Hanyu Pinyin and reflect the Mandarin pronunciation of their respective names (i.e. 碧山 bìshān and 义顺y ìshùn). While the station name, Bishan, was changed to better reflect the name of the government housing in the new town of the same namesake, ² this shift to pinyinisation could stem from the policy of eliminating multiracial heterogeneities (Yeh, 2013): by promoting Mandarin Chinese at the expense of dialects, Chinese Singaporeans would see themselves less as Hokkien or Teochew or Cantonese and more as Chinese Singaporeans, hence, fostering unity amongst the Chinese community through reducing dialect-based identity.

An interesting observation is the many colonial references among station names. A strand of critical toponymic scholarship studies the colonisation and decolonisation of toponyms, particularly, how colonisers inscribed their socio-political worldview and spatial language on the colonial landscape. In the era of decolonisation, most colonies, particularly those in Africa, replaced colonial toponyms with indigenous ones (Guyot and Seethal, 2007; Nna, 2015; Wanjiru and Matsubara, 2017) as locals sought to remove the vestiges of colonialism associated with the marginalisation of indigenous culture, knowledge and languages. However, Singapore retains a sizeable proportion of toponyms named after foreigners, particularly the British. This could derive from founding Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew’s belief that Singapore’s legacy as a Crown Colony was ‘nothing to be ashamed of’ (Ho, 2017) as he resisted calls to eradicate colonial toponyms. Thirteen MRT stations along the EWL and NSL have eponymous names that commemorate a person or other entity (Lim and Perono Cacciafoco, 2020) and over half of the eponymous names are named after British and other Europeans. Some examples are Raffles Place (named after Sir Stamford Raffles, regarded as the founder of modern Singapore), Outram Park (named after a British general, Sir James Outram), Clementi (named after the Governor-General of the Straits Settlements, Sir Cecil Clementi), Braddell (named after Thomas Braddell, the first Attorney-General of Singapore) and Newton (named after Howard Vincent Newton, the Assistant Municipal Engineer in late 19th-century Singapore). The eponymous naming strategy is evident even in newer lines like the CCL; nine out of 30 stations in the CCL are named eponymously, of which eight are named after prominent British or European figures.

However, there have been instances where MRT stations indexing colonialism have been changed to names with a more local flavour. In 1986, English station names like Maxwell and Victoria were given more localised names in the national language, Malay, becoming Tanjong Pagar and Bugis respectively. MRTC Chairman Michael Fam, was quoted as saying: ‘We have nothing against (English) names … We have no hangups about our colonial past. But we thought we’d have a few more local names’ (Fam cited in Weekend East, 1986: 11). It appears that the namers have not engaged with the kind of deep toponymic cleansing other former colonies have but rather named stations (and also streets) after colonial figures and in English – the language of the colonisers. Yet, the replacing of English names with more local station names reflects an attempt to assert a sense of local identity that is tied with naming stations in the national language, Malay.

In the area of colonial names, one can draw certain parallels between the station names of Singapore’s MRT and Hong Kong Mass Transit Railway (MTR). Although some MTR names bearing colonial references like Waterloo and Argyle have been changed to Yau Ma Tei and Mong Kok, ostensibly to lend a more distinct Hong Kong flavour to MTR names vis-a-vis the Cantonese language, there are still multiple colonial and/or Western names in the MTR such as Prince Edward and Olympic stations. The reason for such names is largely profit-driven; English names sound more upmarket than Cantonese ones and boost the sales of properties around the MTR stations. For instance, Olympic station, constructed in the mid-1990s, was formerly called Tai Kok Tsui. Influential private property developer Sino Land felt the name sounded unsophisticated and pressured the MTR Corporation, the government-owned public transport operator, to change it. The name was changed after Hong Kong’s first gold medal in the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, which led to Sino Land naming the surrounding property Olympian City and the MTR station was subsequently named Olympic to align with the name of the new property (Chang, cited in Lee, 2017). While English and colonial names are argued to reflect Singapore’s history and heritage (The Straits Times, 1982), these names have a more economic slant in Hong Kong to give nearby properties an air of extravagance. English and Western names (which index colonialism and the language of the colonisers) are associated with symbolic capital (Light and Young, 2015), which property developers turn into economic capital to sell their properties and is evidence of the ‘commercialisation of public place-naming systems’ (Rose-Redwood, 2011: 34).

Finally, the decision-making process behind the MRT names is worthy of mention. Earlier lines like the EWL and NSL relied heavily on a top-down approach; the names were decided by the MRTC and changed to better reflect the geography of the area it serves. This leaves little room for alternatives, despite suggestions from ordinary Singaporeans. The Singapore Monitor recounts an incident in 1985, when people living around the newly renamed Queenstown station (EWL) suggested that it be named Tanglin Halt instead. During a briefing on the new station between the MRTC and constituents, a resident, Mr Martin Marini, noted that the housing estate surrounding the station was known to residents as Tanglin Halt. Furthermore, a school located in the vicinity was known as Tanglin Technical School. Queenstown, according to Marini, was more general as it covered a larger area. In response, MRTC public relations manager, Tammie Loke, said that the panel felt that Queenstown was better known generally (Loong, 1985). Some even petitioned the local parliamentarian Tan Soo Khoon to change the station name to Tanglin Halt, but the station name remained unchanged. The episode is indicative of how early station names were decided by an undisclosed panel working in the MRTC, with citizens having little room to input suggestions. For the newer MRT lines, commuters have theoretically, a greater say in the naming process. The LTA, which took over the MRTC in running Singapore’s MRT, gives working names for the MRT stations while they are still under construction. The public is invited to suggest new names for these stations or keep the existing ones. The LTA collates and decides which names meet the naming criteria of: illustrating the area’s history; reflecting Singapore’s multiracialism and multiculturalism; and not being named after public structures or commercial and residential developments. The LTA shortlists two to three names per station and puts them to a public vote. In the final step, the names are sent to Singapore’s Street and Building Names Board for approval. On further analysis, however, the final name chosen rarely deviates from the original name suggested by the LTA. Of the 16 stations in the TEL announced in 2013, only one station, Bright Hill, was a name that was not suggested originally by the LTA. The overwhelming majority retain the original names proposed by the LTA. The exact proportion of votes for each suggested name were not released nor were the suggestions given for each station, although the LTA noted that over 4000 suggestions were received for the naming exercise (Tiong, 2013). The MRT names of newer lines, in the final analysis, follows a more top-down lite approach; while people can suggest names and vote on their choices, thereby having some stake in deciding the name and identity of the station (Hoe, 2013), the names largely conform to those decided by the LTA (Land Transport Authority, 2014).

This section explored MRT names in the EWL and NSL from a critical toponymic perspective, or how the socio-political, economic, linguistic and governmental considerations affect the place naming process. While MRT station names are supposed to reflect the geography of the area they serve, an analysis of the languages behind the station names also reveals that they not only indicate Singapore’s linguistic diversity, but more crucially, project the state’s approaches to language policies and governance onto the urban landscape. MRT station names can be argued to represent a ‘theory of the world’ (Azaryahu, 1992: 351) that is aligned with Singapore’s language policies and more generally, her top-down approach to policymaking (Ho, 2000).

From everyday multiculturalism to everyday multilingualism

The last section focuses on what we call everyday multilingualism, a term borrowed from everyday multiculturalism, which aims to capture the ‘dynamism that occurs when different groups come to live and interact together’ (Ang, 2001: 4). Past studies considered what contributes to friendly and conflictual inter-ethnic relations at the level of lived experiences, and when and how identities are reshaped (Harris, 2013; Radice, 2009; Valentine, 2008). As Semi et al. (2009: 67) note, everyday multiculturalism analyses ‘the recurrent situations’ where difference is ‘constructed, invoked, mediated, transformed, disputed or deconstructed’. Such differences rarely extend beyond ethnicity as everyday multiculturalism is interpreted beginning from the ‘ordinary places’ where encounters from different ethnic groups occur within specific localised contexts (Fioretti and Briata, 2019: 395). Language plays an integral role in these everyday locales; Harris (2009) argues that everyday activities and language are used to negotiate experiences in everyday sites of encounter where people of different ethnicities interact. Furthermore, the question of which languages/dialects face inclusion/exclusion in these spaces are also worth studying as the interactions between different groups ‘can alter, read differently or struggle to give a voice to dialects, slang, idioms and denied languages’ (Semi et al., 2009: 81). The analysis on what happens when different groups come together should extend beyond ethnicity, and hence, the authors extend everyday multilingualism to the linguistic dynamism when different linguistic groups occupy public spaces.

The MRT, which is a public space that people of different socio-cultural and linguistic groupings occupy, can be described as everyday multilingualism in practice. The diversity of languages is ever-present along the rail platform, where station names are displayed in the English/Malay Romanised script, Chinese characters and Tamil scripts. Quadrilingual signs in Singapore’s four official languages (English, Mandarin, Malay and Tamil) are also observed in train cabins to convey important information such as where the emergency exits are.

The linguistic diversity in the MRT extends beyond the linguistic landscape to announcements, which are made in the four official languages. A common announcement heard in all four languages reminds commuters to be careful of the gap between the platform and the oncoming train:

‘Please mind the platform gap’

‘请小心空隙 (qǐng xiǎoxīn kòngxì)’

‘Sila berhati-hati di ruang platform’

‘தயவு செய்து தளம் மேடை இடைவெளியை கவனத்தில் கொள்ளுங்கள் (tayavu ceytu taḷam mēṭai iṭaiveḷiyai kavaṉattil koḷḷuṅkaḷ)’

In making quadrilingual announcements, a broader group of Singaporeans, especially those who may not be literate in English, can be reached. Moreover, one often hears commuters conversing on their handphones in train cabins. The languages spoken, be they English, Mandarin Chinese, dialects, Malay or Tamil, or even languages spoken by foreign workers ³ such as Burmese, Thai, Tagalog, among others, demonstrate a soundscape of the linguistic diversity in Singapore.

Listening to the station names being read out is also part of everyday multilingualism in Singapore’s MRT system. While English is the main language found in station names along the EWL and NSL, the very act of hearing, ‘next station, Simei’, ‘next station, Tampines’, ‘next station, Marsiling’ or ‘next station, Ang Mo Kio’, serves to remind commuters that there are many stations along the MRT system with non-English names (this amounts to two-thirds of the 62 stations along the EWL and NSL). Hearing the station names read out becomes part of the sensory experience; it is not just the quadrilingual signs that the commuter views at the station or in the cabin but also the station names they hear as they train moves from one station to the next that reminds them of the multilingual reality they live in, a result of different linguistic groups occupying the country, which is then reflected in the station naming process. While taking the MRT can sometimes be a subdued affair as Singaporeans, borrowing from a description by Hirsch and Thompson (2011: 11–12), retreat from the public space to their private spheres, an analysis of poems written on MRT station names, particularly during the SingPoWriMo ⁴ Poems for the MRT Challenge in 2016, shows they are a means for commuters to portray their experiences on public transit and ‘rearrange the logics and habits of urban life in a neoliberal city along less instrumental and more humane lines’ (Gui, 2021: 241–242). Commuters see the station name as a metaphor to encapsulate some of the best sights and sounds around the station. Daryl Yang writes about Bukit Gombak, a station on the NSL: ‘Come take a little trip around Bukit Gombak/On the 945 feeder bus/To see Xiao Guilin and its quiet lake/BBDC and all of us’ (Yang, 2016: np). Yang’s poem, to be sung to the tune of Singapore Town, a famous song describing Singapore’s scenic spots, is mirrored in Bukit Gombak, which is best known for Little Guilin – a granite rock sitting within a lake, the Bukit Batok Driving Centre where many Singaporeans living in the western part of the island take driving lessons, and the bus service 945 which serves the area. The mention of Bukit Gombak conjures images of surrounding attractions, The last phrase, ‘all of us’, denotes how the name Bukit Gombak is not merely a name in the national language (Malay) or the multilingual society he lives in, but how the poet sees himself as belonging to Bukit Gombak through association with these notable sites that give Bukit Gombak a sense of place. Gui (2021) also analyses the poem, Punggol by Serene Boey. The poet and her husband had just moved into Punggol, a rapidly developing town in the early 2010s, and that poem summarises her thoughts by looking out of the train’s windows during the daily commute. She harbours hope as the place develops from bare land to a home: ‘See the belly of this green estate/Swell with the shape of new life/And transform at last into home’ (Boey, cited in Gui, 2021: 237). The toponym, Punggol, although found in the NEL, Singapore’s third MRT line, represents the feelings of passion and promise as the poet looks to sinking her roots into the place. The mere hearing or writing of the station name can invoke images (on the daily commute), experiences (of moving in and establishing a home) and feelings (of hope for the future) and is living proof that toponyms are intricately tied to a sense of belonging to a geographical space.

Poetry also reveals the tongue-in-cheek ways commuters subvert the official naming of the MRT and come up with their own names. In Kampung Four Beauties, poet Elizabeth Fen Chen makes a subtle reference to Simei’s past as a Malay kampung‘village’, before its streets were named after the Four Great Beauties of Ancient China. Tracing Simei’s Malay roots, the poet not only refers to Simei as Kampung Four Beauties, a departure of the station’s official Chinese name, to one that combines the national language, Malay with the English translation of Simei. The poet, who, in deciding the title of the poem, exercises her agency in the naming process, decides to christen the station as Kampung Four Beauties and in the process, pays tribute to the area’s heritage as a kampung while discussing the etymology behind Simei. The poem is peppered with Malay words: ‘They said I was a lucky charm/My reflection in the big longkang ⁵ /Made all the baung come/My singing was so sweet, they said/That our ayam kampung laid/Salted double-yolk eggs’ (Chen, 2016: np). These Malay references describe the exquisiteness of the Chinese beauties the Simei’s streets were named after, to the extent that the baung‘a type of fish’ and ayam kampung‘village chicken’ – animals one could find in the kampung – were awestruck in the far-fetched situation when they came face-to-face with the Four Beauties.

Yet, the interaction of different linguistic groups also results in the marginalisation of languages/dialects in public spaces. For example, even though there are now multilingual station names on the rail platforms this was not always the case, as originally, when early stations opened in the 1980s, MRT signs on the platforms were written only in English. This led to suggestions from commuters to add station names in Malay, Tamil and Mandarin, which would benefit the older generation who might not be English-educated (Soon, 1988: 16). In response, the MRTC said that it was ‘not quite practical to have all signs represented in the four official languages’ (Loke, 1988: 22). It was only by the end of 2005 when multilingual signs appeared in all stations (The New Paper, 2004: 13), showing that English, was, for a long time, the foremost language in signs around the MRT. As Tan (2011: 240) concludes, the ‘multilinguistic treatment is generally restricted to the platforms’. Additionally, the number of trilingual and quadrilingual signs in MRT stations are ‘strikingly low’ (Tang, 2020: 160) as monolingual English signs dominate signs as do English advertisements in the stations. Furthermore, although station names in MRT lines are multilingual, there have been complaints that the announcements of various destinations in MRT routes have been made only in English (Ng, 1989). Given the dominance of English in MRT stations, it is sometimes impossible for non-English speakers and tourists to plot their route confidently. It is not uncommon for the elderly or non-English speaking tourists to ask for directions, albeit in one of the non-English languages in their linguistic repertoire. The response of non-English speaking groups taking the MRT would be, ironically, to fall back on the non-English language to connect with bilingual commuters (i.e. those who can speak both English and the tongue they speak), to find their way.

Conclusion

In conclusion, this paper aimed to historicise the experiences of Singapore’s rail system. The historicising of Singapore’s MRT system reveals the contestations between socio-political and economic forces – to modernise the public transport system and reduce traffic congestion which at the same time, had the potential to rake up millions (and later, billions) in costs. The economic dimension becomes salient considering Singapore’s brand of pragmatism, which considers practical results and economic growth as its endpoint. Moreover, there were opportunity costs in building the MRT and this sum could be channelled to economic industries and/or social concerns. This story is thus one of socio-political and economic choices and contestations in constructing the MRT system.

At the same time, the authors adopted a critical toponymic approach in studying early station names. While station names have a neutral purpose to indicate the station’s geography, a closer analysis shows that the station names reflect and reproduce the state’s linguistic and socio-political ideologies, be it the pre-dominance of English (the lingua franca) and Malay (the national language), or the pinyinisation of place names like Bishan, in line with the promotion of Mandarin Chinese over dialects, which is then reinforced when the station was renamed ‘to suit the areas the station serves’ (Singapore Monitor, 1984: 2). The (re)naming of the place and subsequently, the station is closely intertwined with the state’s language policies of the 1980s which shaped the material landscape. In some ways, the naming process of MRT station names is an extension of pragmatism into the political realm. Initially, station names were given and modified by the MRTC although citizens can now suggest and vote on station names. Notwithstanding, the final station names largely remain align with those suggested by the LTA and hence, is reflective of Singapore’s political pragmatism; personal freedoms may sometimes be sacrificed for economic and social goals (Ooi, 2010), which, in this case, is taken to be the smooth implementation and running of the public rail system.

Finally, the authors explored how taking the train is part of everyday multilingualism as commuters see signages around the station, hear multilingual announcements and encounter station names. Different linguistic groups come to occupy the public space, resulting in linguistic dynamism. Commuters can even interact with names, subverting the official naming process through art forms like poetry, not observed in the top-down approach of naming. Yet, just as everyday multiculturalism is concerned with who/what gets included/excluded, everyday multilingualism studies similar questions as well. Everyday multilingualism in this context, goes beyond linguistic landscapes, which studies the languages of signages in public spaces. Instead, we considered both the visual and auditory experiences of taking the train – the signs and advertisements, the announcements made and the very act of reading and encountering the station name – before analysing the socio-linguistic character of the landscapes and soundscapes. There appears to be a hierarchy behind Singapore’s official languages, with English being the foremost language, followed by Mandarin, Malay and Tamil. Dialects of Chinese, which are frequently spoken amongst elderly Singaporeans (Wee, 2010), are relegated to being found in station names. The strong use of situational English on signs and advertisements in MRT stations, be it to create in-group membership or communicate messages, and conversely, ‘low presence and/or absence of the other three official languages of Singapore marginalise Chinese, Malay and Tamil while centralising English’ (Tang, 2020: 168), poses a problem for elderly commuters. In the final analysis, the multilingual landscape in and around the MRT system, which comes to be occupied by different linguistic groups, ultimately reflects a monolingual orientation (Tang, 2020: 171) in the public space, one that privileges English over the other official languages and non-official languages like Chinese dialects.