Asian Journal of Social Science 37 (2009) 83–106
www.brill.nl/ajss
‘Mixing and Matching’:
The Shape of Everyday Hindu Religiosity in Singapore
Vineeta Sinha
National University of Singapore
Abstract
Religious pluralism is the norm rather than the exception in contemporary societies but this is by
no means a recent phenomenon. This is also an empirical field that students of religion have long
engaged theoretically. Such scholarly attention has generated a plethora of conceptual tools to
make sense of religious encounters in multi-religious settings. As such, a number of phrases —
‘religious pluralism,’ ‘religious diversity’ and ‘multi-religiosity’ — abound in the relevant literature
and the notions of pluralism, multiplicity and diversity inform these discussions. Such expressions
as ‘religious syncretism’ and ‘religious hybridisation’ have also been proposed to address the various interactions witnessed across a variety of religious traditions. I argue that this terminology and
the conceptual frames it advances need to be queried in order to assess their value and relevance
for theorising interactions amongst religious traditions. This paper focuses on everyday forms of
Hindu religiosity in urban Singapore and the kinds of engagement and participation that occur
across religious traditions in this multi-religious context. Through my ethnography, I problematise the above-mentioned noted categories, as well as the sense-making strategies they have led to,
while proposing alternative modes of approaching the realm of everyday religiosity at the level of
practice.1
Keywords
religious interaction, religious syncretism, religious pluralism, everyday Hindu religiosity, religious practice
Introduction
How does one convey the complexity of religious interactions in a religiously
‘plural’ society, particularly at the level of everyday religiosity? Through what
language, terminology and framework can one approach encounters, associations and exchanges between and across religious boundaries in a multi-religious society? Students of religion have certainly addressed the empirical
1
I would like to thank the anonymous reviewer for a careful reading of this paper and for very
valuable feedback.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009
DOI: 10.1163/156853109X385402
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phenomenon of multi-religiosity cross-culturally and the subject has received
some theoretical treatment. Such attention has generated a plethora of conceptual tools to make sense of multi-religious settings. Contemporary analyses
of religion are, in fact, dominated by the notions of ‘religious diversity’2
(Waardenburg, 1998; Warner, 1998), ‘religious hybridity,’ ‘religious syncretism’ and the phenomena they are meant to theorise, are often also highly
valorised. Primarily, these linguistic descriptions attempt to convey the obvious diversity and density of religious spheres in contemporary societies. Yet, it
is my view that these notions are inadequate in theorising both the phenomena of religious pluralism and religious interactions at an empirical level in
that they fail to meaningfully articulate the modes of engagement across differentiated religious boundaries. I strive to problematise the above-named
descriptions, as well as the sense-making strategies they offer, and thereby seek
alternative modes of theorising everyday enactments of religiosity.
Most ethnographic contexts in the present are religiously plural, with religious communities in close contact, a proximity that creates enormous possibilities for interaction with several likely outcomes. Relying on material from
the realm of everyday Hinduism in Singapore, I query the interrelated notions
of ‘religious pluralism’ and ‘religious syncretism’ with a view to critiquing
them. The complexities of the multi-religious context of this island nationstate unfold to reveal that religion is only one factor amongst numerous other
socio-cultural markers, such as race, ethnicity and language, and the relations
amongst them are indeed convoluted. Singapore is, by definition, an obviously ‘multi-religious’ society. The latter entails noting the presence of named,
labelled and differentiated religious communities with varied spiritual orientations, opinions and viewpoints, all existing in the same space. Furthermore,
religions are conspicuously ethnicised and ‘race-d’ (Puru Shotam, 1998) in the
multicultural discourse of a multi-ethnic and multi-religious Singapore. Here
religious identity is conjoined with racial, ethnic and linguistic identities. For
example, in everyday consciousness, ‘Malay-ness’, the Malay language and
‘Muslim-ness’ are always conflated; ‘Indian-ness’, Tamil language and ‘Hinduness’ always go together; ‘Chinese-ness’ is closely associated with Mandarin
and, importantly, not with the various dialects, while being connected with
2
Distinctions between religious diversity and religious pluralism have been made by some
scholars. For example, Wiggins (1996:ix) favours the use of ‘religious diversity’ over ‘religious
pluralism’ for the following reason: “The word diversity emphasises differences from which some
learning can occur, whereas pluralism conveys residual confidence in some deep underlying commonality that too often minimises differences or dismisses them as unimportant.” I find this
position thought-provoking in making the point that terminologies are not simply descriptors
but often carry an evaluative dimension.
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several affiliating religious identities — Taoist, Buddhist and Christian. In
practice, however, it is clear that not all Muslims are Malays and there is a
significant non-Hindu Indian population on the island.
A related issue follows: the rhetoric of equality pervades the multi-cultural
discourse in Singapore, particularly in the public domain. However, at an
everyday life level, one does hear the language of majority-minority group
dynamics, the presence of racial prejudices and discriminatory practices. The
sense that specific groups are culturally, ideologically, politically and economically dominant is pervasive. Thus the classification of individuals into specific
cultural categories is not simply a matter of description but also recognition of
a hierarchy in place. Statements about religion and inter-religious harmony
are embedded in discussions of inter-ethnic relations making it impossible to
disentangle deliberations about race/ethnicity from religion.
In this paper, I make a case for going beyond a taken-for-granted reading of
the cultural and religious domain in Singapore. I argue for a need to deconstruct and rethink easy acceptance of such labels as ‘multi-religiosity,’ ‘religious
pluralism’ and ‘religious syncretism,’ often presented as meaningful schema
for conceptualising the religious domain in religiously diverse societies. In
addition, invoking such terms as ‘creolised,’ ‘syncretic,’ ‘eclectic’ and ‘hybrid’
to describe religious encounters in such locales are equally problematic. In my
view this terminology and the conceptualisation it offers obscures the rich
diversity and complexity of spirituality, belief and behaviour encountered in
practice and are thus limited in theorising interactions across religious boundaries. Yet, ‘something is obviously going on’ when a number of religious traditions confront each other the level of practice. How does a student of religion
talk about this ‘something’? Given the inquiring spirit adopted here, the paper
raises far more questions than it answers conclusively. Such queries as: how do
we characterise the kind of free-flowing, intersecting interactions amongst
communities, producing what have been conventionally labelled as instances
of ‘religious eclecticism’ and ‘religious syncretism’? What accounts for the
presence of a spirit of openness, receptivity and empathy towards religious
differences, or lack thereof? Do socio-political and cultural conditions in the
present favour or facilitate the persistence of hybrid and syncretic practices
and the emergence of new ones? How do we theorise the desire to engage in
practices that cross carefully drawn official boundaries and confuse them,
often despite official censure and condemnation? Ultimately, the conclusions
I offer may be tentative and modest but the intent is to advance a position that
is both insightful and provocative.
On the basis of my data, I am led to consider a new mode of portraying religious practices on the ground. I argue that descriptions like ‘multi-religiosity’
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and ‘religious syncretism’ are neither self-evident, nor transparent, and tend to
direct attention to ‘irreconcilable religious differences,’ insisting on bounded,
mutually exclusive and delimited religious identities, which are assumed to
produce specific and differentiated religious behaviour. Certainly, my data do
not permit me to approach these named descriptions as meaningful analytical
frames for interpreting the kinds of everyday interactions and associations I
have encountered amongst religious practitioners in Singapore. I am by no
means suggesting that there is no recognition or awareness of religious distinctions at an everyday life level or that no boundaries exist. The more interesting
issue is how practitioners deal with the noted religious distinctions, how religious boundaries are marked and, most crucially, what kinds of engagements
are deemed possible and permissible despite the recognition of differences and
boundaries.
An Alternative Approach
Related to the theme of religious diversity is the issue of religious encounters.
In talking about ‘religious encounters,’ I am referring to interaction, exchanges
and contact between and across religious traditions which are defined as ‘different.’ The multi-religious context of Singapore means that individuals of
different religious orientations are brought into close proximity, with opportunities for regular interaction. In an effort to portray and theorise the complexities religious encounters in Singapore’s multi-religious domain at the level
of everyday life religiosity, I propose an approach that goes beyond invocations
of ‘syncretism’ and ‘hybridity’, and includes attention to the following dimensions:
(a) Mapping the field of everyday religiosity in practice: This involves surveying particular religious traditions at an everyday life level daily life level
and focusing on practices, on what is done and performed, rather than
being overwhelmingly concerned with individual attachment to religious labels and religious identities, and the behaviours the latter normatively prescribe. For example, in surveying the field of Singaporean
Hinduism, I was interested in what was both articulated and enacted in
the name of Hinduism, as well as what was denied as legitimately
Hindu, by different categories of Hindus.
(b) Identifying specific sites: Here I pinpointed those locations where practitioners express their religiosity and religious sensibilities. In this I was
led to mark sites which might be identified where one witnesses the easy,
free-flowing mixing and matching across given religious boundaries.
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I approach the word ‘site’ here primarily as a ‘metaphor’ and not literally as a place, space or area in purely objective terms. It is as important
to query in which locations this does not occur and, indeed, is not
permissible. An empirical concern would be to establish what kinds of
interaction are visible in these sites. In my view, some examples of such
sites would include spaces, practices, deities, texts, processions, festivals
and rituals, attention to which I argue enable more nuanced and textured readings of religious interactions and associations. A focus on
these sites would allow different kinds of insight into cultural, religious
and social diversity. Drawing upon data from the realm of everyday
‘Hindu’ religiosity, I cite examples of ethnographic ‘sites’ (such as
homes, temples, festivals and daily practices) where and through which
Hindus cross officially constructed, carefully drawn out religious
boundaries of distinction, further suggesting that at an experiential
level, such demarcating borders are neither seen to be relevant, nor
obstacles to participation and engagement. I propose that there is value
to seeking new, unexplored and alternative sites which allow one to
speak not only to the long-term syncretic, eclectic cosmopolitan history of the Southeast Asian region, vis-à-vis religion, but also their persistence in the present, despite obvious shifts over time and the presence
of structural constraints.
(c) Refreshing historical memory: The need for a deeper and broad-based
historical perspective is essential given that, by and large, analyses of
religious pluralism have tended to adopt a rather presentist framework,
which does not allow for the exploration, nor recognition, of long-term
cultural interactions across specific religious communities. Thus, I make
a call for refreshing our historical memories. This is highly relevant in
the Singaporean context, where discussions of religious diversity and
religions encounters have tended to be framed within parameters dictated by the experience of modern, secular, nation-state formation and,
more importantly, dominated by the emergent nationalist discourses.
Since the inception of Singapore as a modern nation-state, its leadership has been concerned with managing an ethnically, culturally and
religiously diverse populace. The adopted strategies have named ‘multiculturalism’ as a guiding principle but also produced a particular and
problematic mode of approaching this pluralism (Benjamin, 1976),
one that I argue has not only produced atomised, differentiated conceptions of ‘races’ and ‘religions’ but, more crucially, paired specific ‘races’
with ‘religions’ — something that has been normalised and naturalised
in lay consciousness as well.
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Applying this alternative method to my own fieldwork with regard to Hinduism in Singapore has led me to look beyond the traditional, mainstream sites
of religious expression, taking me outside the parameters of what has been
officially, institutionally and legitimately constructed as ‘Hinduism.’
A brief note about the shape of authorised Hinduism in Singapore is in
order. Hinduism in Singapore operates within the institutional context provided by two government affiliated bodies: the Hindu Endowments Board3
(HEB) and the Hindu Advisory Board (HAB), both British colonial initiatives
founded at the turn of the 20th century. Today they continue to be pivotal in
shaping local Hindu affairs, with membership constituted by Singaporean
Hindus drawn from the civil services, the private sector and business domains.4
By law, the HEB is charged with the administration of four Hindu temples and
the management of its assets and finances, while the HAB was constructed to
‘advise the government,’ a function that was by all accounts ambivalent in the
colonial period. Today the two boards, in practice, operate as one, holding joint
meetings and co-operating in many projects related to Hinduism. The HEB is
better known of the two entities and even amongst lay Hindus is perceived to
have commanding influence over all matters relating to Hinduism in Singapore. Additionally, the state and the various ‘para-statal’ institutions view the
HEB as representing the interests of the Hindu community and it is often
approached for input on Hindu issues. The cumulative effect of this enlarged
role of the HEB means that it has contributed to packaging and legitimating a
face of Hinduism for wider public consumption, and in the process also framed
the boundaries of what constitutes ‘proper Hinduism’ (Sinha, 2008a).
3
The Hindu Endowment Board, a body that came into its own in 1969, but which existed
in a previous manifestation as part of the Mohammedan and Hindu Endowment Board
(MHEB), a creation of the British colonial government in 1905, while the same initiative led to
the formation of the Hindu Advisory Board in 1915. Through this piece of legislature, Hinduism, Islam, Sikhism and Zoroastrianism were placed under the administrative charge of the
MHEB in Penang, Malacca and Singapore. It is striking that similar steps were not taken with
respect to Buddhism, Taoism and Chinese religion. In the post-colonial period, the colonial
supervisory and managerial tone has persisted for Hinduism, Islam and Sikhism, with important
consequences for framing ‘official’ versions of these religions — something that has not typified
contemporary Buddhist and Taoist communities on the island.
4
The members of the two Boards work closely together and are appointed for a term of three
years by the Minster for Community Development, Youth and Sports (MCYS). The issue of
‘representation’ continues to haunt the two bodies in a different vein. Popular Hindu sentiment
is that the members do not adequately represent the interests of the local community. Questions
have been raised by lay Hindus about whether members of the two Boards have sufficient knowledge of Hinduism to make decisions about the religion. Given the mode of nomination, selection and appointment, the Boards are further viewed as highly elitist, and being out of touch
with popular, public opinion.
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Looking beyond officially defined spaces (for example of Agamic Hindu
temples), I have been led to identify many sites — where what I call ‘mixing
and matching’ occurs. I use the ethnographic evidence my research has generated to engage conceptual issues vis-à-vis the study of everyday religiosity. The
material presented in this paper serves to focus attention on what have been
called fluid/popular/localised forms of religiosity, and I argue for venturing
beyond conventional, mainstream sites of religious expression, and outside the
limits of ‘official religion’ (Vertovec, 1994) and ‘institutional religion,’ making
a case for more historically and theoretically informed ethnography, rather
than less.
Straddling ‘Hindu’ and ‘Taoist’ Domains through Participation
By way of providing context, it is important to depict the Singaporean Hindu
scene on the island nation-state of Singapore. According to the Singapore
Census of 2000, the Hindu population in Singapore stands at 99,904 — a
small percentage of the total population, and one that has remained stable in
the last 50s years or so. Elsewhere, I have unpacked the religious parameters of
this numerically ‘small’ cluster, while arguing that the ‘unravelling’ of categories like ‘Hindu,’ ‘Hinduism’ and ‘Singaporean Hinduism’ helps in mapping
the complex tapestry of belief and ritual they encompass (Sinha, 2005, 2008b).
In the context of this paper, I approach the domain of ‘everyday Hindu religiosity’ to be constituted by a number of intertwining, intersecting and sometimes contradictory strands of religious practice and thinking. I now turn to
mapping some features of this field.
My fieldwork data strongly suggest that the notion of diversity is pivotal to
theorising the practice of Hinduism on the island. Collectively, the varied
strands that give shape to the latter co-exist in the larger religious domain and
are brought into close contact. The internal differentiation within ‘Singaporean Hinduism’ is constituted in part by the class, caste, regional and linguistic
features of the local community but also by the varied styles of religiosity that
exist within the Hindu tradition itself. Here, I refer to another strand of diversity that defines Hinduism through interactions and encounters with ‘nonHindu’ religious traditions such as Roman Catholicism and Taoism,5 just to
5
It is important to say something about the label ‘Taoism.’ I use it with the strong awareness
that the term is a contested one, both in the literature and certainly in its empirical usage, in
terms of the varied meanings that are assigned to it. I discuss this complexity of the term more
fully in another paper (Sinha, 2008a). Despite the debates and controversies surrounding its
invocation, I have chosen to use it in the context of this paper as this description (together with
variants, such as ‘Taoist’) is the one that I consistently heard in the field amongst my Hindu
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mention two ‘external’ points of contact. It is important to recognise that my
choice of these latter religious traditions is not random but that I arrived at
these empirical foci through my fieldwork. Such an approach has enabled me
to outline the varying styles of Hindu religiosity in practice, including not
only participation in ‘Hindu’ rituals, but also partaking in religious practices
of ‘other’ religions. In mainstream accounts, such phenomena would be
defined as falling ‘outside’ the realm of Hindu behaviour but my approach
enables a different reading. I cite the following examples as evidence of diversity constituted in the realm of everyday Hindu religiosity, through engagement with ‘non-Hindu’ sources: the practice of ‘going to the Novena’ in
Catholic churches and visiting a keramat — both as part of a tradition of saint
veneration; marking the significance of the Buddha by attending Vesak day
festivities in Buddhist temples; and observing the birthdays of such Taoist deities as Tua Peh Kong and the Jade Emperor. Each of these practices can be
pursued and explored more thoroughly and I draw on Hindu interactions
with what is labelled ‘Taoism’ to further my case.
Looking out from the realm of everyday Hindu religiosity, I chart the field
of encounters with ‘other’ religious traditions, and argue that an engagement
with these is viewed by my informants as part and parcel of legitimate ‘Hindu’
behaviour. Shifting attention to the realm of practice, it was in the course of
my ethnographic fieldwork in the last two years, in what would be called ‘folk’
or ‘popular’ Hindu domains, that I first began to ‘see’ glimpses of Taoism.
Being led by ethnography allows me to highlight how ‘Taoism’ is selectively
approached, represented and integrated in the actualisation of everyday Hindu
religiosity. Following the approach proposed earlier, I identify three sites where
Hinduism and Taoism ‘meet.’
(a) Jungle temples’: One component of my research in Singaporean and
Malaysian Hindu domains has entailed conducting fieldwork in what I
have defined as ‘jungle temples’ (or underground temples), where village Hindu gods and goddesses (such as male and female guardian deities) are venerated, and a ritual complex associated with them flourishes
(Sinha, 2005). One of my first observations was that, folk Hindu deities
co-existed unproblematically with gods of the Hindu Sanskritic tradition in these locations. Additionally, these ‘jungle temples’ (which would
be on the opposite end of the scale from Agamic Hindu temples)6
respondents to denote rituals, festivals, deities and temples. Occasionally the label ‘Buddhism’
was also used interchangeably with Taoism.
6
Some mainstream Hindu temples do attract large numbers of Chinese and Taoist devotees.
A prominent example is the Sri Krishnan Temple on Waterloo Street, which is next to a famous
Kuan Yin temple, and sees a regular flow of Chinese Taoist devotees. The Hindu temple has
V. Sinha / Asian Journal of Social Science 37 (2009) 83–106
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further extended their reach to include representations of divinity from
‘non-Hindu’7 religious traditions, the most prominent amongst whom
were deities of the Taoist pantheon. Thus, as I did fieldwork in these
peripheral religious spaces, I observed artefacts, symbols, insignia and
paraphernalia associated with Taoism together with visual representations of Kuan Yin, Tua Peh Kong, Laughing Buddha, Tai Sing (also
known amongst my Hindu informants as the Chinese Monkey God),
all of whom were allocated a legitimate space where they were
approached by Hindus as divinity, complete with appropriate ritual
attention. I further observed that lay Hindus and Taoists alike acknowledged and ‘prayed’ to deities of the various pantheons, using either the
‘Hindu’ or ‘Taoist’ style of approach. Interestingly, the non-Brahmin
ritual specialists at these temples functioned as experts in the veneration
of Taoist deities as well, sometimes using Hindu religious gestures and
at others emulating the religious styles gleaned from observations of
‘Chinese’8 religious practices. The latter included offering oranges,
lighting and waving large, Chinese-style joss-sticks before the deities
and placing them in a large urn and lighting oil candles before the
altars. In these spaces, it was not uncommon to meet Chinese individuals who acted as ritual specialists, sometimes serving as assistants to
their Hindu counterparts, and at other times acting as independent
spirit-mediums or faith healers. In addition, I noticed a significant
number of Chinese visitors to these temples who participated in the
ritual domain. When I asked these individuals how they would denote
their religious identity, I was told that the labels were irrelevant but
placed a large urn at its entrance, with an image of Lord Krishna, for the benefit of the devotees
who come to pay respect to the Hindu temple. A picture of Kuan Yin is placed next to the urn.
In 1991, a statue of the goddess was donated by a group of Chinese devotees to the temple. She
now shares the temple premises with 12 deities of the Hindu pantheon. In other examples, a
statue of the Goddess of Mercy, Kuan Yin, has been installed at the Murugan Hill Temple on
Upper Bukit Timah Road since 1985, while a statue of the Buddha and Kuan Yin were installed
at the Sree Ramar Temple in Changi in 2005 with the assistance of the Singapore Buddhist
Lodge. Interestingly, in local accounts, these spaces are denoted as ‘inter-religious places of worship’ (The Straits Times, 23 September 2007) and cited as evidence of religious harmony and
religious tolerance in a multi-religious context.
7
Other representations include symbols and insignia from Roman Catholicism and graves of
Malay/Muslim saints, known as keramat.
8
Amongst both sets of informants, the descriptions ‘Chinese’ and ‘Indian’ were more pervasive in denoting both kinds of gods, deities and modes of religiosity than the more typically
invoked terms like ‘Hindu’ and ‘Taoist’ — deemed to have religious connotations. Often the two
sets of terms (Indian/Hindu and Chinese/Taoist) were used synonymously which points to the
twinning of race and religion in everyday consciousness.
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with deeper conversations, I did hear labels like ‘Taoist,’ ‘Buddhist’ and
sometimes even ‘Hindu.’ Interestingly, informants added that it was
possible to be ‘Hindu and Taoist together’ or ‘at the same time,’ a comment that is very revealing and confirms my argument that these are
not viewed as mutually exclusive identities nor do they imply restricted
frames of religious behaviour. In most of these locations, Hindu deities
of the folk and Sanskritic pantheon co-exist, but with ample space and
deference allocated to altars that house ‘Chinese’ deities.
The next slices of data I offer come from two temples which cannot
be marked as ‘jungle temples,’ neither can they be classified as ‘Hindu’
or ‘Taoist’ temples. Their status is further ambiguous as they are officially registered spaces but do not fit the stereotypical features of a
Hindu or a Taoist temple. I have described these locations as examples
of ‘conjoined’ and ‘merged’ religious spaces (Sinha, 2003). These are
the ‘Hock Huat Keng / Veera Muthu Muneeswarar Temple’ (in Yishun)
and the ‘Loyang Tua Peh Kong Temple’ (in Changi). The former of
these houses the Taoist deity Tua Peh Kong9 and the Hindu folk deity
Muneeswaran, both of whom are considered primary deities and
defined as brothers, sharing many qualities and treated as equals. The
‘merged’ temple has been at the present premises only since 1998, but
in the history narrated by a group of devotees at the temple, the association of the ‘Chinese’ and ‘Indian’ gods is seen to be at least 60 to70
years old. The latter case of ‘unique mixed-religion temple’ (The Straits
Times, 13 March 2001) is the result of a chance finding of Hindu and
Taoist statutes discarded on a beach in the early 1980s, and housing
them in a brick and zinc hut. The temple also has a keramat, in honour
of a ‘holy Muslim man’ (ibid.). When the makeshift structure burnt
down in 1996, the combination of deities was moved into a new, more
permanent setting, established with public donations in the year 2000.
The new temple has a statue of Tua Peh Kong (from the original group)
and a two-metre tall statue of the Hindu god Ganesha. According to
Mr. Paul Tan, one of the group that set up the temple, devotees are
mostly Chinese Taoists or Hindu Indians, with about 20,000 visitors a
month, including many from Malaysia (The Straits Times, 13 March
2001) and is possibly the only place of worship I know of that remains
open 24 hours a day.
9
Tua Peh Kong is approached as a ‘Prosperity God’ and an addition to the Taoist pantheon
from Malaysia, Penang (Kok, 1993:125).
V. Sinha / Asian Journal of Social Science 37 (2009) 83–106
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(b) Hindu households: In addition to deities of the Hindu and Taoist pantheon sharing public places of worship, and a common genealogy, I
found homes of Hindu devotees to be another space where symbols,
ritual objects and representations of divinity from both traditions mingled freely. During my visit to homes of Hindu informants, for example, a prayer altar or room containing representations of Ganesh,
Murugan, Kaliamman, Krishna, Muneeswaran, Kuan Yin, Tai Sing,
Jesus Christ, Mother Mary, Laughing Buddha and Tua Peh Kong were
a common sight. While in Taoist homes, I saw statues or pictures of
Hanuman, Siva, Muneeswaran and Kaliamman or Mariamman,
together with images of deities from the Taoist pantheon, like the Jade
Emperor and Tua Peh Kong.10 Interestingly, in the narratives of Hindu
informants, the Goddess of Mercy, or Kuan Yin, is re-christened Kuan
Yin Amma11 and the Laughing Buddha is seen, to quote one of my
informants, as a ‘Chinese version of the Kubera — the Hindu god of
wealth.’ The last is a fairly recent addition to the Hindu pantheon and
is very popular amongst Hindus I spoke to. I found numerous representations of the Laughing Buddha in retail stores across Singapore,
Malaysia and Tamilnadu. My interviews with proprietors of these businesses suggest that this ‘product’ is very popular with customers and
sells very well indeed. There have been new variations of this deity. At
the annual Deepavali Village Festival in Singapore, I recently encountered a 14 kilogram statue of the Laughing Buddha who had been renamed Selvakuberan. This is the brain child of a Tamil Hindu
businessman from Ipoh, and he has been marketing it quite successfully
in Singapore and Malaysia. The receptivity and openness to innovations like these amongst Hindus is not surprising in view of the following slice of data: I repeatedly heard my Hindu informants remark that
‘Indian’ and’ Chinese’ gods are the ‘same’ and that there is ‘nothing to
choose between them.’ One very insightful and astute Chinese Taoist
informant made this cryptic comparison, the essence of which was also
articulated by many of my Hindu informants:
10
It is exceedingly common to encounter visual representations of Mother Mary, Jesus Christ and
a range of Catholic saints, all of whom are deified, on prayer altars in Singaporean Hindu homes.
11
Amma is a word found in many Indian languages, including Tamil, and literally means
‘mother.’ It may be used to mark the social status of women with whom one does not share a
kinship relationship, but interestingly the term is often metaphorically invoked to affectionately
and reverentially address even younger, unmarried girls. Amma is also used to denote a range of
Hindu goddesses, both mother and virgin goddesses, as well as divine female figures outside of
Hinduism, such as the Mother Mary, Lady of Lourdes, etc. in the Roman Catholic tradition.
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Indians have many gods, we also; some of their gods like meat, beer and cigars,
same for us. We also have spirit mediums who can talk to our gods, Indians
the same. We must both suffer for our gods so they will listen to us. Only thing
is our gods look different and talk different languages, doesn’t matter. They
work the same way — both powerful!
A male Hindu devotee of the goddess Samayapuram Mariamman
shared with me that Chinese visitors to his home are surprised to see
statues of Kuan Yin and the Laughing Buddha at his home prayer altar
but he invoked a pragmatic rationality to explain their co-presence with
Hindu deities, as follows:
It’s like a mixture. To them, it is something different. For instance when you
go to Loyang Way Vinayagar Temple it is also like that: you see one Indian
god. . . and then a Chinese god. You pray to both and see who can answer your
prayers fast. That’s all. Everybody wants that kind of thing.
Another articulate Hindu informant explained to me the integration of
Hindu and Taoist deities on his home altar by making a distinction
between ‘form’ and ‘substance’ — arguing that while the deities may
look different, they function in a similar mode, adding that ‘the form
does not matter, what matters is substance, and that is the same and
they work in the same way.’
(c) Practices: Moving from the physical and symbolic spaces to the complex of rituals and practices that occur within their boundaries provides further supporting evidence. Both on a daily basis and on
important festive occasions it was commonplace to see large numbers
of Chinese Taoists joining Hindus in ritual events at the underground
temples. I have observed Chinese Taoists participating in such rituals
as the bearing of kavati and agni catti (Tamil, ‘fire pots’), self-mortification rituals like whipping oneself and slashing different parts of the
body (like arms, stomach, shoulder and back) with swords and knives
and walking on them. Another core activity that occurs in these temples, as well as homes of devotees, is the practice of spirit mediumship, in which specific deities or spirits are ‘called down’ or ‘invited’ to
inhabit a human form, who functions as a medium, for the purpose of
direct communication with a deity. I have been at sessions where ‘Chinese’ deities (especially the Monkey God) embody Hindu spirit mediums and are consulted by Hindus. The centrality of spirit mediums
and oracles in local versions of folk Hindu and Taoist domains
and their salience in the religious life of the communities has been
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well-documented (Babb, 1974,1976; Rajah, 1975; Wee, 1976; Tong,
1988). Approaching renowned spirit-mediums for a variety of pragmatic and utilitarian individual needs is a legitimate form of religious
activity for Hindus and Taoists alike. I know of countless Hindus who
seek consultations with Taoist mediums, and Taoists who approach
Hindu mediums, convinced of their efficacy. For example, I observed
the presence of large numbers of ethnic Chinese in the homes of
Muneeswaran devotees on the occasion of ‘ayya prayers.’ The latter
typically included a séance or a ‘healing session’ during which the deity
was ‘called down’ via the spirit medium in attendance. During these
sessions I saw ethnic Chinese individuals participating in the proceedings — stepping forward to either receive blessings from the deity or
to consult him via an interpreter. In recent years, the more visible participation of large numbers of ethnic Chinese who call themselves
‘Taoists’ in the two conspicuous festivals of taipucam and timiti has
been hard to miss and has been featured widely in the print and visual
media.
Such participation in the ritual complex of a religious tradition
defined as ‘different’ is possible partly because of the common mode in
which divinity is conceptualised by Taoists and Hindus. Hindus I spoke
to noted patterns of affinity and similarity between Hinduism and
‘other’ religious traditions. For both groups, deities are viewed as having
specific strengths and functions; however, they are literally embodied
and have varied needs and preferences, an awareness which shapes how
they must be appeased and ‘prayed to.’ I heard the dualism of ‘vegetarian’ and ‘non-vegetarian’ deities in both Hindu and Taoist folk domains,
this being constructed by the various kinds of offerings (including food
items) made to them. For instance, a category of Hindu and Taoist deities who are offered meat items and stimulants, such as beer and
tobacco, are the ‘non-vegetarian’ deities. Others in the pantheon are
considered clean and pure and are only offered vegetarian substances,
such as fruits, flowers, nuts, grains and rice items. The mode of attending to the mixed pantheon approximates a style that Muller has called
‘henotheism’ such that each deity is invoked for different reasons, and
deemed to be superior at that moment, but this does not deny the
importance of other deities. This is the modus operandi for both Hindus
and Taoists in terms of their attention to deities and spirits which are
called upon to assist devotees. It is noteworthy that the narratives of
Hindu practitioners is dominated by the discourse of ‘sameness’ rather
than ‘differences’ across religious traditions, not an insignificant notice
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given the broader societal context which views both races and religions
as being distinct and mutually exclusive.
A notice of sites, practices and symbols which practitioners identify as meaningful meeting points serves to reiterate the point that theologically given differences across religious tradition do not lock people either at the level of
practice or thinking into designated, prescribed boundaries of belief and ritual. The possibilities for crossing-over and making connections do exist in
practice. As we have seen, even though, and perhaps because, the dominant
discourse is dominated by talk of irreconcilable differences on cultural grounds,
the daily life level is where connections are made across boundaries and journeying back and forth are not issues for practitioners.
Mixing and Matching
In Singapore, multi-religiosity in the sense of naming and counting adherents
of different faiths is a reality not just at the level of groups and communities,
but also at the level of households. There is overwhelming evidence that Singapore households (many of which still continue to house families and kingroups across several generations) include individuals who belong to ‘different’
religious traditions. For example, in a household with a three-generation family has individuals all of who name varied religious identities. Even within a
nuclear family set-up, households are not necessarily religiously homogeneous
as the parents and siblings might declare adherence to different religions. Thus,
in addition to the sites already noted, different religions are brought into close
proximity in numerous Singaporean households, where there is no conscious
attempt to bridge religious differences or to engage diverse religious traditions.
In such settings, religious encounters can culminate in a variety of eventualities: religious tolerance, religious syncretism, religious harmony, or religious
conflict, all of which clearly occur at an everyday life level. However, neither
tolerance, syncretism, nor conflict are desirable options as categories of analysis. On the question of religious tolerance, I agree with King (1976:9) in that:
‘There is something intolerable about the concept of tolerance.’ He continues
(ibid. 22):
. . . to tolerate, generally means to endure, suffer or put up with a person, activity, idea
or organisation of which or whom one does not really approve. One can ‘put up with’
an item both when we can and cannot do anything about it . . . An agent will be said
to be ‘tolerant’ of an item where the item is objected to — whether disliked or disapproved — and is yet voluntarily endured.
V. Sinha / Asian Journal of Social Science 37 (2009) 83–106
97
The idea of syncretism, as Peter van der Veer notes, refers to the ‘borrowing,
affirmation, or integration of concepts, symbols or practices of one religious
tradition into another by a process of selection and reconciliation’ (Berlin,
1980:9, quoted in van der Veer, 1994:196). But the term itself is neither
‘transparent’ nor simply ‘descriptive’ (ibid. 196). The notion of ‘supposedly
equal theological viewpoints’ (ibid. 196) being put together is further not tenable. My own formulation, ‘mixing and matching’ resonates with van der
Veer’s approach to ‘syncretism,’ especially in his emphasis on conscious choice
and harmonisation amongst selected features of diverse traditions. However, I
remain sceptical of interpretations that invoke the term ‘religious syncretism’
but which do not recognise the non-judgmental acceptance of diverse worldviews, and may also not allow one to theorise domination by one and more
religious tradition with the corresponding marginalisation of weaker ones.
The data just presented allow me to speak of the idea of ‘mixing and matching’ across Hindu and Taoist traditions. It is important to say a few words
about my use of this description. The phrase ‘mixing and matching,’ a somewhat lay and admittedly inelegant description, is one I have found to be a
useful metaphor for making sense of everyday Hindu religiosity in Singapore.
Rather than invoke such terms as hybridity and syncretism, I use this alternate
descriptor to signify a process of picking, choosing and enacting a style of
religiosity preferred by a practitioner. I use it to articulate the image that elements from these two religious traditions maybe ‘coming together,’ ‘meeting’
or ‘touching’ each other and engaging with each other in performing religious
acts. However, it does not convey the idea of the two religious traditions thus
becoming a unitary whole, merging or uniting as one, and thus becoming
indistinguishable. This ‘mixing and matching’ of elements produces a scenario
where diverse (and sometimes contradictory) components of ritual behaviour
and thinking co-exist without trauma. Despite official efforts to organise,
codify and delimit the Hindu realm in Singapore, the field is defined by diversity and the incorporation of various ‘external’ religious elements. In practice,
not only does one witness the incorporation of elements from within different
Hindu strands, but also easy borrowing from ‘non-Hindu’ religious traditions,
such as Taoism, Islam and Roman Catholicism. Of course these inclusive acts
can seem jarring and anomalous, especially to practitioners of monotheistic
religious traditions. Raj and Harman (2006:7) make precisely this observation
in their discussion of votive rites in South Asia, but I suggest that the insights
they offer can be extrapolated constructively to the present discussion:
Western monotheistic traditions are accustomed to the idea — and the practice —
of mutually exclusive boundaries between religions; to the idea that a person must
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participate in only one religious tradition at a time. We have treated religious affiliation as a form of monogamy: being faithful to your tradition is as morally important as being faithful to your spouse. But the common folk among South Asian
Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Jains and Christians don’t understand religious adherence in such exclusive terms. They are willing on occasion to step outside their own
traditions and to take vows in traditions and sacred spaces to which they do not
formally have an allegiance.
In my data as well, I am struck by the candour, simplicity and abandon with
which Hindus I encountered are able ‘to step outside’ the prescribed boundaries of their own religious traditions, even momentarily. This, for me, constitutes the crux of everyday ritual activity which entails effortless forays into the
realm of ‘other’ religious traditions. What is most remarkable is that practices
that are considered transgressive, deviant and illegitimate — normatively
speaking — are viewed as thoroughly commonplace, ordinary and unspectacular from the perspective of the individuals who ‘mix and match’ without
restraint. The convergences and affinities in practices I have been led to note
are not entirely surprising, if one pursues Geoffrey Benjamin’s (1987:10–11)
exposition of the idea of ‘coherence,’ which he defines thus:
Coherence — the antithesis (or absence of alienation) — is generated through imaginative acts of positive mental appropriation in which we each lend structure to our
world (including the cultures in it) by a process of ordered filtering in which some
phenomena re for the moment focused on, while other phenomena recede into the
background.
Following this interpretation, the idea of coherence serves as a sense-making tool
by lending order and structure to the otherwise necessarily fragmented world of
lived experiences. Benjamin goes on to delineate four ideal-typical modes of
coherence, with classic examples of three of the four cases: (1) transcendental
(typical in monotheistic civilisations, Theravada Buddhist polities, and the
worldview associated with modernism); (2) immanent (normal in, among others, some of the classical East Asian civilisations, such as Java and China);
(3) dialectical (normal in many, but not all, tribal cultures as well as in much of
Hindu culture); and (4) Zen. Benjamin considers Chinese religion as typified by
an ‘immanent’ mode of coherence and ‘Hinduism’ by the ‘dialectical’ one.
Relying on data from the domain of everyday religiosity, I contend that folk
varieties of Hinduism and Taoism can be approached using the ‘immanent’
mode of coherence. Here the emphasis is on participation, engagement and
enactment, while the religious style is highly diffused and fluid, operating with
an informality that is disconcerting to the authorities, with a disregard for
uniform and standardised rules and procedures, and certainly nonchalant
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99
about the level of disorganisation and ‘messiness’ in this sphere. This form of
religiosity displays a loose structure, is more or less unbounded and the boundaries are seen to be flexible and permeable. This is to be expected in a style of
religiosity that is as unconcerned with marking religious boundaries as it is
with policing them. It also articulates a mode of social interaction that is noninterfering, almost to the point of being indifferent about another individual’s
state of spirituality. This is in sharp contrast to transcendental modes of coherence, which are by definition, ‘fundamentally interfering mode . . ., and a continuous attention by ego to other people’s actions’ (Benjamin, 1987:12). It is
not accidental that it is in this marginal, peripheral realm (as seen from official
perspectives) that these convergences occur, as Hindus and Taoists find in each
other’s traditions meaningful points of engagement. The folk Hindu and Taoist domains I have pointed to are located on the fringes of their respective
communities, functioning in a manner (in terms of reproducing specific complex of rituals) not altogether approved by the relevant religious authorities.
Singaporeans are used to the Census exercise of measuring the size of ethnic
and religious populations, and while some get allocated to specific religious
categories by default, many gravitate to religious behaviour not captured or
sanctioned by religious authorities. In the realm of religious practice, ethnic
and religious labels may mean little for those who are more concerned with
‘doing’ religion and than being worried about how to describe or denote their
religious identities by recourse of labels. Certainly my data suggest that for
many Singaporean Hindus, a label like ‘Hindu’ does not serve to delimit the
sphere of religious behaviour, nor does it preclude or prohibit practices that
may be defined from official perspectives as ‘non-Hindu.’ It is simply that the
“what it means to be ‘Hindu’” expands to include practices which may be
typically associated with ‘other religions.’ The context of homes and jungle
temples, and the activities therein, is by and large located outside the range of
direct organisational, administrative policing and surveillance gaze, thus
affording a degree of ‘freedom’ to ‘mix and match’ without inhibitions. The
fluidity, openness, extension and connection with ‘other’ traditions are viewed
by practitioners as ‘normal.’ Ironically, this ‘indiscriminate mixing’ is precisely
what is seen as a ‘problem’ and an ‘obstacle’ from the organisational perspectives committed to defining Hinduism in an unambiguous fashion. In such an
exercise, clear limits and boundaries are desirable for the sake of clarity and
simplicity while reaching out to incorporate other ‘non-Hindu’ traditions
complicates this task. I am not by any means suggesting that the ‘mixing and
matching’ of traditions is completely open-ended. There are obvious limits to
such inter-mingling: some liaisons appear to occur spontaneously and unproblematically, while others are not seen to even be possible. For instance, none of
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my Hindu informants cited visiting a mosque to attend daily prayers or a
church for a Charismatic Christian service. Trying to figure out what these
limits are and how the parameters of these ‘out of bounds’ religious domains
are constituted would help us to grasp individuals’ ‘mental map of religious
traditions’12 with regard to ‘mixing and matching’ religious behaviour.
Concluding Thoughts
Efforts to guide the nation towards harmonious ethnic relations, official discourses convey the impression that the story of Singapore’s multiculturalism
only begins with the project of the nation-state in 1959. This requires both
selective remembering and the erasure of historical memory with regard to
entrenched religious and cultural encounters in the region, the evidence for
which is overwhelming.
Pre-Islamic Southeast Asia was defined by the conflation and confluence of
Buddhist and Hindu elements which typified cultural and political regimes in
Java, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand and Bali. Historians of Southeast Asia have
documented the production of ethno-religious pluralism and cultural diversity in the region through the routine back and forth movement of people
culminating in a rich cosmopolitanism. A good example of the integration of
pre-Islamic and Hindu-Buddhist elements is discernible in the popularity of
keramat(s) in Malaysia and Singapore which have been patronised by nonMuslims and non-Malays, including Chinese Taoists and Buddhists and
Indian Hindus. The more recent evidence from the religious landscape of 19th
Century Straits Settlements is further instructive. Despite the rhetoric of the
latter space being ‘wholly uncultivated an uninhabited,’13 Francis Light makes
the following observations about Penang in a number of early despatches to
the Bengal Government:
It is become necessary to have some regulations established for the peace and safety of
individuals. Our inhabitants are composed of Chinese, Malays, Christians, Choolias,
Siamese and Tannoes. The Siamese and Chinese are nearly of the same religion and
12
I would like to thank the reviewer for this phrase and also the notice is that this is an important point to pursue, something I intend to follow up elsewhere. At this point, the data I have
suggest that the reluctance to engage in some practices of ‘other religions’ is tied, in part, to the
perceived exclusivity of these traditions, the absence of reciprocity and the sense that practitioners of these religious traditions would resist such their desire to engage.
13
IOR-G 34/8, pp. 1–8 ‘The East India Company’s petition for letters patent establishing a
Court of Judicature at Penang to the King’s Most Excellent Majesty’, 28 March 1805.
V. Sinha / Asian Journal of Social Science 37 (2009) 83–106
101
manners, the Malays, Choolias and Tannoes are Mohomedans and governed by
Mosaic Law. A strict police for the punishment of such offences as disturbing the
public peace is sufficient, while each sect are governed by their own municipal laws.14
. . . from the great diversity of inhabitants, differing in religion, laws, language and customs
[emphasis added], a constant and patient attention to their various complaints must
be afforded; and that to endeavour to subject these people to our strict military law
and discipline would soon depopulate the island of all the most wealthy and useful
inhabitants.15
Data from the 1849 Census of Singapore are crucial as evidence of religious
pluralism on the island. According to the ‘Census of Singapore and its dependencies taken under orders of government in the months of November and
December 1849,’16 a range of nationalities and religions amongst a total adult
population of 52,891 is captured thus: amongst adults of named nations17 are
included the ‘Europeans, Eurasians, Armenians, Arabs, Balinese, Boyanese,
Bugis, Caffries, Chinese, C. Chinese, Javanese, Jews, Malays, N. of India, Parsee and Siamese,’ while their religions are denoted as ‘Christian, Jews, Parsees,
Mahomedans, Hindoo and Buddist.’ An instance of early religious interaction
comes from the observance of the festival Mohurrum in the Straits Settlements. Although this festival was ultimately associated with convicts, its
importation into Penang, Malacca and Singapore was through the presence of
members of the Indian regiment stationed in these places, and observed initially as a ‘religious’ event by both Hindus and Muslims from South India, and
involved members of the local Arab community as well.
The ethnic and religious pluralism that is the cornerstone of the contemporary modern nation-state of Singapore has deep, historical roots. There is further evidence of multi-ethnic participation in religious festivals from at least
the middle of the 19th Century, both as participants and as witnesses, something that interestingly also troubled colonial authorities of the time. A newspaper account of the Hindu festival ‘Churruck Poojah,’ held in Singapore in
1844, finds mention in Charles Buckley’s Anecdotal History of Old Times in
Singapore (Buckley, 1969:417–418):
Not only is the practice which we condemn, abhorrent to the feelings of Europeans,
but we are afraid that it produces anything but a good effect on other classes of Asiatics
14
S.S. (F). R. Vol. 2. Penang to Bengal, 7 May 1787 (cited in Tregonning, 1965:46).
J.R. Logan (1857).
16
The Straits Times, 26 February 1850, p. 5.
17
Already at this point the three groups that are dominant demographically are the Chinese,
Malays and the natives of India.
15
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who crowd to witness it. On Thursday evening, the number of Chinese much exceeded
the Hindoos or any other class.
Historically, the island of Singapore has been a fertile ground for the sustenance of ‘traditional’ religions as well as novel ‘religious’ movements — both
local and imported. In fact, given the history of Singapore and the constitution of its population by migrant groups, the island has been defined by religious pluralism from the earliest decades of its founding. Even more so today,
a strong sense of choice and religious experimentation defines the local religious domain, as the island hosts a vast array of religiosities — across a number of diverse religious traditions — making it possible for both the official,
institutional variety and the myriad innovative interpretations of the same, to
co-exist. Yet, while private religiosity is constitutionally guaranteed and is
indeed largely unregulated, the relevant authorities are more circumspect
about collectivised expressions of religiosity in the public domain and these
are thus subject to a variety of regulations and constraints.
It is striking that in official narratives with respect to inter-racial interactions, the collective memory is repeatedly taken back to a number of riots that
occurred in Singapore in the 1950s and 1960s. Especially important in these
renderings are the Maria Hertogh riots of 1950 and the ‘racial riots’ of 1964
and 1969, cited as evidence of inter-ethnic conflict and tension. Interestingly,
they are marked as anomalous occurrences in the otherwise peaceful trajectory
of communal relations in Singapore and serve to remind citizens that these
regrettable events must never be repeated. The multicultural discourse in Singapore is defined by a heightened sense of different kinds of ‘differences,’
including that between religious traditions. The various religions which exist
here and occupy the same space are not only defined as different, but the
noted distinctions render religious boundaries firm and impermeable.
Although religious differences are perceived to irreconcilable, the state takes
the position that these must be managed through appropriate regulatory measures, including legislation if necessary (Hill, 2001). At the same time, one
increasingly hears of an emphasis on building a common space and shared
identity for Singaporeans, even in official pronouncements on the subject. The
value of maintaining racial and religious harmony in a plural context is a further strand of the multicultural discourse, and one that has been translated
into practice through a number of institutional efforts. Fostering inter-faith
dialogue through recognition of religious commonalities has recently engaged
all religious communities in Singapore. But the kind of religiosity I have
alluded to through the notion of ‘mixing and matching’ transcends attempts
these at ‘inter-religious dialogue.’ In theorising the ‘doing’ of religion, I have
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103
found it instructive to turn to the notion of ‘ritual dialogue’ offered by Selva
Raj and William Harman (2006:254) in the context of making sense of South
Asian vow rituals:
Ritual dialogue . . . enables a shift in focus away from institutionally contrived, topdown dialogical experiments to bottom-up dialogue on the ground.
Furthermore, the kind of ‘ritual activity’ on the ground highlighted across
Hinduism, Islam, Jainism, Sikhism and Roman Catholicism in South Asia,
mark this domain as a different species from efforts at ‘conventional religious
dialogue’ (ibid.):
Adherents of different religious traditions, in performing each others’ customary vows
to each others’ deities, are brought into a religiously communal contact and dialogue
with each other. They transcend the rigid and apparently impermeable ritual boundaries of their respective traditions. This ritual activity differs significantly from traditionally conceived ‘religious dialogue.’ Conventional religious dialogue normally focuses
on the cerebral rather than the physical, on discussions rather than action, on the hope
for mutual understanding rather than on performing similar acts in the similar space
in honour of the same supernatural powers.
It is important to ask why the openness and receptivity to ‘other’ cultural
practices, which has been the norm in the historical experience of the region
for at least a century, should now be greeted with surprise and viewed at best
as a novelty and an aberration at worst in the current socio-political climate of
Singapore. In fact, it would be more surprising if the kind of ‘mixing and
matching’ I have documented had not occurred given the fairly long period of
interaction across ethnic and religious communities in the region.18 The
amazement that greets contemporary evidence of such religious encounters is
to be partly located in the role of the nation-state and the multiracial paradigm which it has generated to structure ethnic relations in Singapore since
the 1960s. This is known as the ‘CMIO’ (Chinese-Malay-Indian-Other)
model and is rooted in the assumption of discrete, bounded, non-overlapping
and mutually exclusive racial and religious labels that impose requisite identities on individuals, and the discourse on multi-religiosity that leads to a
bland, sterile, uncontaminated mode of conceptualising ethnic and religious
18
The convergences in belief and practice that I have noted have also been reported amongst
other disaporic Hindu communities. A good example comes from Trinidad where Steven Vertovec documents affinities between the Shango, Spiritual Baptist and Kali Mai Puja (Vertovec,
1998).
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differences in such places as Singapore and Malaysia. This does not capture the
free-flowing, fluid crossings over (in multiple directions) and interactions
across religious traditions, signifying an openness and receptivity rather than
reticence towards religious traditions defined as ‘different.’ It is tempting to
read the ‘crossing-over’ of boundaries as a kind of resistance to state efforts at
ethnic and religious compartmentalisation. However, this would contradict
the larger argument I have made here about the long history of such cultural
liaisons in the region, associations that were active prior to territorial formations of nation states.
Interestingly, the shape of authorised ‘Singaporean Hinduism’ is not entirely
textual and scripture-based but rather a fusion of disparate strands — including Agamic, Vedic and ‘folk’ elements, as well as input from non-Hindu religious traditions. Yet, driven by bureaucratic, reformist and modernist agendas,
official prescriptions continue to select and declare some rituals, festivals, philosophies as ‘Hindu’ and deny others this status. To many Hindus, this selection process appears random and ad hoc, lacking any religious backing, and
motivated instead by administrative and political concerns. The noted instances
of ‘mixing and matching’ assume further significance for the political implications they carry, seen especially in the various contestations about what constitutes ‘proper’ Hinduism (Sinha, 2005). This is evident especially in the debates
and controversies over several facets of ‘folk/popular’ Hinduism which show
strong signs of persisting in Singapore. I have argued elsewhere that the tenacity of this sphere reveals tremendous agency on the part of its proponents, who
do not accept the mandate of the Hindu religious authorities. Rather, they act
autonomously and exercise the right to construct and practice a style of Hindu
religiosity that can, and does, function without reliance upon the authorities
or their approval, for example by creating parallel sites where alternative styles
of religiosity can be reproduced (Sinha, 2005).
As my data reveal, given the socio-political dynamics of the Singapore, tensions do prevail in such participation but the dynamics of ‘mixing and matching’ are also precisely sites where religious innovation and creativity can be
identified. It is not without significance that the lead here is taken not by elite
sectors of the Hindu community but by ordinary, lay Hindus who also have
an affinity for folk Hindu practices while also being as committed to Agamic
Hindu precepts. At a theoretical level, the data I have presented further nudge
towards the recognition of diasporic locations as sites of religious creativity. It
is worthwhile detailing the socio-cultural and political context of Singapore
that allows (and in some cases limits) religious reinterpretation and innovation.
My work has also led me to note the theoretical value of recognising instances
of ‘persistence’ of ‘received tradition,’ as well as a range of ‘innovations,’ in
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105
Singaporean Hindu domains, producing contrasting styles of religiosity. Here,
encounters with non-Indian and non-Hindu cultural and religious traditions
have led to the production of novel modes of conceptualising divinity, as well
as the emergence of distinct religious practices. In my work, I have documented the growth of new festivals, rituals, mythologies, gods, ritual objects,
religious organisations, all emerging from within the Singaporean Hindu context. It is important to reiterate that Hindus who ‘mix and match’ have not
opted out of the realm of officially prescribed Hinduism but remain committed participants therein. It is as important to guard against romanticising the
realm of popular religiosity or marking it as a site where religious hegemony is
confronted and contested. However, the tenacity for engaging in religious
practices in a ‘muddled,’ ‘chaotic’ and disorderly mode in an ethno-religious
and political context where order and tidiness are preferred are bewildering for
religious authorities. Yet I propose that they can certainly be read as having
significant de-centring effects on normative modes of being ‘religious.’
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