Established in 1859, the Singapore Botanic Gardens are arguably the most important colonial botanic gardens in the world. Not only have the Gardens been important as a park for Singaporeans and visitors, they have had a significant role as a scientific institution and as a testing ground for tropical plantation agriculture implemented around the world. As Timothy P. Barnard shows in Nature’s Colony , underlying each of these uses is a broader story of the Botanic Gardens as an arena where power and the natural world meet and interact.
Initially conceived to exploit nature for the benefit of empire, the Gardens were part of a symbolic struggle by administrators, scientists, and gardeners to assert dominance within Southeast Asia’s tropical landscape, reflecting shifting understandings of power, science, and nature among local administrators and distant mentors in Britain. Consequently, as an outpost of imperial science, the Gardens were instrumental in the development of plantation crops, such as rubber and oil palm, which went on to shape landscapes across the globe. Since the independence of Singapore, the Gardens have played a role in the “greening” of the country and have been named as Singapore’s first World Heritage Site. Setting the Gardens alongside the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, and botanic gardens in India, Ceylon, Mauritius, and the West Indies, Nature’s Colony provide the first in-depth look at the history of this influential institution.
I am new to Singapore, and found this book fascinating. It is a comprehensive account of the Gardens. I have visited there, found it lovely, but never imagined the complicated background and history of the place. The author places the stories in a context of a developing scientific institution that has to weave between serving masters at Kew to eventually the modern Singaporean government. It would be of great interest to anyone living in Singapore or interested in how colonial institutions evolve over time. It is well-written and the anecdotes are rich. It made me appreciate the place more on a recent visit.
This is a highly problematic book. An insult made to gardeners and colonized, but also to our kids under ecological crisis. It is for sure written by a non-gardener, white priviliged person. So be it )not his fault) but while the author claims to discuss gardens, colonization, and nature, it is glaringly obvious that he lacks an understanding of what gardens are, how colonization functions, and the concept of nature itself. The author demonstrates no grasp of these three dynamics throughout the book and goes into naively science-jacking us to serve his ideology. From the very first sentence onward, it becomes clear that this work merely perpetuates and conceals the very views it claims to critique. This is, in itself, an enigma: how can institutions promote such a book without raising an alarm or issuing even a simple caution?
The first sentence states, "Gardens are artificial," later clarified as (in the third sentence), "They reflect attempts to influence nature." The book effectively ends here—barely 15 seconds into the reading. It becomes apparent that the author never challenged, and never intends to challenge, the prevailing view that classifies non-human beings—and any humans who cooperate with them or display too much friendliness or equality toward them—as inherently part of nature.
When narrating for example the failure of a head gardener from England, sent to impose his country’s elite views on Chinese local gardeners, the author illogically and shamelessly blames the young man's management skills rather than the flawed ideology he carried (Tragically, this head gardener later took his own life). Similarly, when the Singapore Botanical Garden gained, as early as the mid-19th century, the paradoxical role of "addressing the policies of its predecessors," the author fails to see that this marked the beginning of a vicious cycle—a virus-anti-virus scheme that perpetuated and escalated the very problems it sought to solve to today’s global ecological crisis. The author neither realizes nor cares that the authorities of the time, for example, had no real understanding of what a forest truly is or what an animal might be trying to express. The author worships and glorifies the idea of nature, for instance, he produces sentences such as...
"[The botanical garden] played a vital role in establishing a plantation industry based on harnessing the power of nature in new environments as part of a network of botanic gardens overseen from the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, while also laying the foundation for forest conservation in Singapore and the Malay Peninsula."
... which litterally cover-up the exploitation of the colonized by the colonizer, the destruction of the living and gratuitously employs the phrase "harnessing the power of nature." which serves as a blatant ideological entrism (that useless expression should have been removed by an editor!). It does nothing but promotes a worldview that replaces the ancient notion of God’s supernatural power with the colonizer’ supposed mastery of nature. Barnard implicitely reveres the colonizers as if they were gods—an utterly pathetic stance when our civilisation is litterally dying of this manipulation.
No living beings are part of nature. They are all free (like us). Many types of non-power gardens honor this fundamental truth: movement gardens, primary forests, rewilding territories, and more. Even a bird flying freely in the sky exemplifies this freedom—until it is confined to a cage in a zoo. The author, however, clearly has no comprehension of what occurred in the colony or what continues to unfold. He cannot envision a future different from his limited perspective, nor, more disturbingly, can he imagine a different past than the colonizor's say, even though he is a historian.
The Singapore Botanical Garden and zoo (like all botanical and zoological gardens worldwide) have, as for primary function, the suppression of critical thinking among the vulnerable—typically children but also non-aware adults looks like—by showcasing more-than-human beings in strict captivity. These gardens are very unmistakably power gardens. Now matured, they operate as tools of initiation, spectacularly reinforcing the dystopian naturalist worldview that Timothy Barnard perpetuates. A child enters these gardens, and a naturalist dystopian exits. The same can be said for this book!
It is a genuine enigma. How could our institutions endorse such a work without issuing even the most basic caution?
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For those unfamiliar with the subject this book claims to address but fails to, it is also worth noting that the historical events the author chose to highlight fail to form a coherent or engaging narrative. At best, the book serves as a poor tourist guide for non-Singaporeans.
Great book for anyone living in Singapore who wants a nice comprehensive history of the Botanic Gardens but which also touches on its connection to the broader history of its connection to green policies in Singapore. Well researched and the footnotes offer a wealth of material primary and secondary for anyone interested to follow up on.
There is excellent tying of this work to the broader historiography and promising pushes in the direction of linking the story of the botanic gardens to the larger networks of gardens and science in empire but was more limited in following through on this when the chapters dove into the empirical section. The book was more narrative than analytic, more of a survey than an interpretative and argumentative academic work.