Uniquely Zombie-pore: An Analysis of Singaporean Anxieties Through Zombiepura
By: Dennis Tan
Tags: Singapore, Politics, Society, Zombies, Film

The modern zombie has surged in popularity since its creation in George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968). These flesh-eating aberrations tread the liminal space between life and death in a constant state of “animation and decay” (Tenga & Zimmerman, 2013, p. 78), a fitting representation of its “abjection” (p. 78) — where we see “death infecting life” (p. 78). It reminds us of our mortality by which we are simultaneously fearful of yet intrigued, repulsed yet attracted.

Cohen (1996) describes the “monstrous body [as] pure culture” (p. 4) that “reveals… [and] warns” (p. 4); an “embodiment of a certain cultural moment” (p. 4). While the zombie’s ability to hold up a mirror to humanity’s shared fear of mortality allows it to transcend cultural boundaries, representations of the zombie have also evolved across time and space, becoming a “geographic phenomenon” (Kim, 2019, p. 437) revealing local anxieties. Originating from Haiti, zombies were reanimated corpses representing anxieties surrounding slavery (Kim, 2019). Entering the United States (US) in the mid-1900s, zombies evolved to embody American fears of capitalism and the ‘Other’ — those who fit not into normative society nor culture (Wood, 2020) — by becoming the popular mindless flesh-eating ghouls we find today (Kim, 2019).

In the 2000s, zombies entered Asian popular culture, evolving with early works like Bio Zombie (1998) to more recent Japanese and Korean films I Am a Hero (2015) and Train to Busan (2016) respectively. As in the US, these films’ popularity waxed alongside capitalism and foreign influence in Asia. However, “cultural traumas that reside deeply in the social unconscious” (Kim, 2019, p. 440) such as collective experiences like Japan’s Fukushima nuclear crisis and Korea’s Middle East Respiratory Syndrome (MERS) outbreak have heavily influenced East Asian zombie films, making disease and apocalyptic narratives key themes (Kim, 2019).

Nevertheless, Singapore remained relatively untouched by this global craze. Despite being a key player in the globalisation of Asian markets and having been struck by 2003’s Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) pandemic, the city-state’s first widely-distributed zombie film Zombiepura was released only in 2018. The film’s viral outbreak is set in an isolated military camp where viewers follow its trapped protagonists fighting to seek help in escaping the compound. This setting, and the film’s deeply Singaporean tropes entrenching it deeply in local culture, makes it an ideal film to analyse the zombie’s significance in uncovering local anxieties festering beneath the surface of the idyllic island-state. While the film uses the terms siao-kia and ki-siao virus — Hokkien for ‘crazy people’ and ‘gone crazy’ respectively — instead of ‘zombie’, these monsters assault the living and consume human flesh, spreading the infection and creating hordes of monsters.

Drawing upon Kim’s (2019) methodology of using East Asian contexts to analyse local zombie films, I will use Singaporean culture to examine the siao-kias and their portrayal in Tan’s film. Through that lens, I posit that the representation of siao-kias in Zombiepura reflects Singaporean cultural anxieties surrounding our relationships with different entities. I will first propose that an analysis of Zombiepura’s setting and origin of the siao-kia betrays an anxiety surrounding Singapore’s ambivalent relationship with nature. Subsequently, I will argue that the various ways siao-kias are portrayed represent a long-running fear of foreign ‘Others’ threatening normative society. Lastly, by investigating a unique cognitive characteristic of the siao-kia and scenes involving authority figures, I will contend that it reveals deep-rooted anxieties surrounding the citizen-state relationship.

Figure 1. The opening scene to Zombiepura depicting a soldier defecating alone in the jungle (Tan, 2018, 00:45)

Our ambivalence towards nature

The film opens at night with a lone soldier in the jungle (see Figure 1). While he defecates, the leaves around him suddenly start rustling. He grows increasingly anxious, before being violently ambushed by the first siao-kia seen in the film. By vulnerably exposing his posterior, the soldier initially appears comfortable in the deep jungle. However, this veneer of composure cracks the moment he thinks he is not alone, becoming wary of and hostile to the surrounding nature. This aptly reflects Singaporean society’s ambivalent attitude to nature — while aspiring to be a “City in Nature” (National Parks Board, 2020), many also abhor any animals that make their presence known by encroaching upon manmade spaces, labelling them as “pests” (Teo, 2019). As Teo writes, Singapore “aims to increase wildlife encounters, but [continues to emphasise] the need to keep human and animals apart”.

The same, now-unconscious soldier is later carried from the jungle into the camp, where he finishes transforming into a siao-kia and attacks those around him, triggering the outbreak. Being fully urbanised with more than 95% of its primary forest felled for development (Barnard & Heng, 2013; World Bank, 2018), few in Singapore have encountered untamed natural areas and fear possible dangers that wildlife may pose (Yuen et al., 1999). Therefore, by tying the outbreak’s origin to the unfamiliar jungle — a “space that contemporary urban Singapore seeks to dislocate and disavow” (Harvey, 2008, p. 31) — a primal fear of the ‘hidden monsters’ lurking within is revealed.

Our fear of the Other

Besides the siao-kia’s origin, its different portrayals also represent another long-running Singaporean anxiety — fear of the foreign ‘Other’ threatening normative Singaporean identity. Two groups forming the ‘Other’ will be examined — white-collar immigrants called ‘foreign talents’ (FTs) and blue-collar migrant workers (MWs).

In Zombiepura, the siao-kias “consume, and [make] more consumers” (Tenga & Zimmerman, 2013, p. 83), performing seemingly paradoxical functions as both predator and victim, yet pointing to the same underlying cultural anxiety over FTs. As predators, siao-kias are “voracious and fast-moving” (Lauro & Christie as cited in Kim, 2019, p. 439), rapidly overrunning the camp. While not depicted as corporate creations, the historical interpretation of zombies as “multinational interests that know no borders” (Tenga & Zimmerman, 2013, p. 83) still applies with the breaking down of borders — shutters, doors, and fences — a recurring motif in Zombiepura. The siao-kia’s personification of unrestrained, border-crossing capitalism is therefore indicative of rising anxieties over the liberal influx of FTs since the 1980s. Just as the protagonists fear the wave of siao-kias will consume them, Singapore’s unpopular immigration policy has caused palpable societal tension, with resentment and xenophobia well-documented among locals who fear the FTs replacing them and ‘consuming’ their livelihoods (Gomes, 2013; Yang, 2018).

Conversely, siao-kias also represent Singaporeans as victims of incoming FTs. As FTs are typically hired directly into management positions, bitter feelings often arise among Singaporean subordinates who feel that they are being blindsided due to their existing contributions to the company (Gomes, 2013). As Stratton (2011) argues:

“The zombie narrative is a useful way for people who do not understand… capitalism to account for how some people apparently become rich very quickly without doing any visible work: they create zombies who work for them and do not have to be paid.” (p. 271)

This hostility extends to a broader anxiety over globalisation’s perceived threat to a distinct Singaporean identity. In Zombiepura, the protagonists’ Singlish-filled speech — a native variety of English closely tied to national identity — is juxtaposed with the siao-kias’ inability to communicate comprehensibly. Here, the ki-siao virus represents globalisation: just as the virus robs victims of their ability to speak Singlish, globalisation is also seen as eroding a uniquely Singaporean identity. For instance, to boost Singapore’s competitiveness in a globalising economy, the Speak Good English Movement (SGEM) was started to encourage Singaporeans to homogenously “speak a grammatically correct English that is universally understood” (SGEM, n.d.-a) as opposed to “corrupted” Singlish (SGEM, n.d.-b, p. 1). Therefore, Zombiepura, like many zombie narratives, is a cautionary tale of a fully-globalised world where humanity becomes a “global herd without purpose or meaning” (Tenga & Zimmerman, 2013, p. 83) nor any “cultural memory” (p. 84) — in this case, a Singapore without any distinct identity.

Figure 2. Siao-kias featured in key scenes are mostly people of colour: (A) First soldier to get bitten in camp (Tan, 2018, 17:58); (B) One of the siao-kias that lead the protagonists to discover one of their unique characteristics (32:03); (C) The protagonist’s best friend is revealed to have been infected (46:02)

While mostly portrayed as a horde, individual siao-kias are highlighted in certain key scenes. Strikingly, most feature siao-kias who are ethnic minorities (see Figure 2). For instance, the first soldier in the camp to get bitten is ethnically Indian, and the main protagonist’s ethnically Indian best friend — who disappeared early in the film — was later revealed to have become a siao-kia in a scene that resulted in a protagonist’s death. While most siao-kias remain ethnically Chinese as reflective of Singapore’s ethnic composition, the film’s choice to mainly highlight siao-kias who are ethnically Indian sharply contrasts with the ethnically Chinese protagonists, with this “racialised difference… metaphorized in the [siao-kias’] difference from humans” (Stratton, 2011, p.275). This aspect is salient, pointing to anxieties over the influx of MWs who generally belong to ethnic minorities.

MWs make up 25% of Singapore’s workforce (Ministry of Manpower, 2020a, 2020b), but have been routinely depicted and thus perceived as societal threats since the 1980s (Bal, 2017). Just as siao-kias are portrayed as having “bare life” (Agamben as cited in Stratton, 2011, p. 267) — physically and socially — so are MWs. The siao-kias exist in a state of “living death” (p. 275) and only focus on obtaining the “essentials of life” (p. 275). They are also separated from the living by barriers used to contain them. Likewise, MWs are also “treated in a way that enables them to become associated with a condition mythically exemplified in the zombie” (p. 267). Mostly forced to work in labour-intensive industries to sustain themselves and their families on meagre wages, they are structurally excluded from wider Singaporean society (Neo, 2015). By highlighting siao-kias belonging to ethnic minorities, Zombiepura further tightens the similarities between MWs and siao-kias, revealing an underlying fear of MWs in Singaporean society.

Figure 3. A graph by the Ministry of Health splitting Covid-19 cases into ‘imported’, ‘dorm residents’ and ‘community’ cases (Ministry of Health, 2020)

In the film’s conclusion, the protagonists are rescued by a government helicopter that flies them out, leaving the zombies behind in the isolated fenced compound. This scene is significant as it parallels a major reason for Singaporean anxieties surrounding MWs: the fear of infection. Most MWs work in so-called “dirty, degrading, and dangerous” occupations (Rubdy & McKay, 2013, p. 159) and live in destitute conditions, leading to the perception of MWs as “filthy” (p. 165). Two years after Zombiepura, the Covid-19 pandemic has exposed this fear as high-profile outbreaks in MW dormitories led to the creation of a national narrative separating cases into ‘imported’, ‘community’ and ‘dormitory’ cases (see Figure 3), codifying the social excision of MWs from the ‘community’. Just as siao-kias were abandoned in the closed-off camp, large swathes of MWs were quarantined in fenced compounds to contain the virus.

Figure 4. The soldiers carry out their duties both in life and un-death: (A) Flag-raising (Tan, 2018, 03:50; 1:04:53); (B) Patrolling the grounds (09:16; 31:21); © Standing at attention for the national anthem (03:25; 1:00:33)

Our complicated relationship with the state

Beyond the film’s portrayal of the siao-kia, Zombiepura also reveals an undercurrent of anxiety surrounding the citizen-state relationship. Despite disliking its heavy-handed measures and control over the population, their dependency on the state complicates Singaporeans’ relationship with it.

Siao-kia­s are depicted as mindless and without independent will. However, they retain a “muscle memory” (Tan, 2018, 31:31) — while unprovoked, they automatically perform the same actions they routinely did in life. This draws similarities between their actions in life and un-death, with soldiers also shown drudgingly performing the same duties pre-infection. With scenes depicting these activities pre- and post-outbreak neatly aligned (see Figure 4), they point to a Singaporean fear of being too docile and accepting of state control. For example, when the soldiers stand at attention for the national anthem at the beginning of the film, none sing, and almost all look dreary. This mimics reality:

“When Singaporeans sing… our Malay national anthem, it is arguably the most mindless demonstration of nationalism in the world today. Five decades on, perhaps three-quarters of Singaporeans still mispronounce their anthem’s words, its meaning lost on them.” (Vadaketh, 2019)

With the siao-kias also mindlessly standing at attention for the anthem, ignoring their primal instincts and completely oblivious their surroundings, perhaps it reveals a Singaporean fear that their “brains have already been programmed” (Tan, 2018, 31:29–30) by the state’s “infantilisation of [its] citizenry as incapable of rational thought” (Lowe, 2020, p. 2) — even in death, they are not free of the state’s influence.

Furthermore, the camp’s highest-ranking officer, who is notably a minister’s son, dies trying to escape as siao-kias cause his car to crash. Moments earlier, he mercilessly imprisoned a civilian with a clearly-infected soldier, fearing that she was infected. This karmic sequence of events is perhaps representative of Singaporeans’ repressed desires (Wood, 2020) to challenge the state’s heavy-handed tactics and see them punished — actions that would be harshly rebuked by the state (Lowe, 2020).

However, the protagonists’ escape is dependent wholly on their rescue by military forces, and their chief purpose throughout the film is to seek government assistance. Their final, and thus only successful attempt at escape, is also enabled by equipment found in the camp’s headquarters where highest-ranking officers reside. Zombiepura’s ending is representative of Singaporeans’ grudging acknowledgement that they ultimately need the state to survive, especially in troubled times. Despite falling electoral support, it is well-documented that the vote tends to the ruling party when facing crises (Lee, 2020).

Moving forward

After analysing various aspects of the siao-kias and their portrayal, it is apparent that the representation of siao-kias in Zombiepura is a reflection of social anxieties in Singapore surrounding its relationships both within — ambivalence to nature and grudging dependency on the state — and without, having a fear of the ‘Other’. With zombie movies gaining popularity in Singapore, we must continue examining such films and their deeply cultural monsters for hidden revelations about our society, for only through such introspection can we grow and mature as a society and nation.