Professor Constance Mary Turnbull 1927-2008

Mary Turnbull has contributed more to the idea of a distinct Singaporean nation and identity than anyone else.

Such a bold statement may seem excessive. But the fact remains that until Turnbull published A History of Singapore in 1977, Singapore had always been perceived as part of the Malayan peninsula, separated by accident of history and political expedience, the border an artificial line writ on water. Turnbull’s groundbreaking work conceived of Singapore as distinct, a country with circumstance unique to itself, a nation with historical roots stretching back in time. She gave us Singaporeans a history to anchor ourselves to.

As such it was unsurprising that when the Singapore government woke up to the idea of a national education programme, it was Turnbull’s understated, matter-of-fact historical narrative which became the basis for the official ‘Singapore Story’.

Turnbull’s work was more than convenient. Her values, born of the Great Depression, forged by Hitler’s relentless bombing, and sharpened by the poverty of post-war Britain, emphasised stability, hard work, and thrift. These values influenced her work and were exactly the values that the Singapore government wished to inculcate. Her conservative approach to history, which told the story based upon the lives of politicians and leaders, mirrored the government’s view of their achievements.

However, the institutionalisation of her work as orthodoxy has also meant that the ‘Singapore Story’ inherited its weaknesses. In particular, it rejects the possibility of alternative contexts to Singapore history. Turnbull herself, having been witness to much of Singapore’s history, gave greater weight to personal experience and was doubtful of the merit of other perspectives. Her staunch defence of that approach has helped to legitimise the exclusion of other equally valid frameworks for Singaporean history.

Sunshine and Adventure

Constance Mary Turnbull grew up in Coventry, but was forced to leave often. An only child, she was sent away several times to live with relatives as the family struggled to make ends meet. During World War II, she was evacuated thrice as Nazi Germany made a determined attempt to wipe Coventry off the map. Her family, fortunately, survived, as did the spirit of defiance. Her school’s headmistress told the pupils that in order to beat Hitler, they were all going to have to get A’s in every subject at their School Certificate examinations. A gasp went around the room, but when the results were announced, Turnbull had done her part. Studying in bombed-out classrooms with no tables or chairs, she still managed to get all A's and win a county scholarship.

Opportunities for women in post-war Britain were nonexistent, and the poverty and rationing depressed her. Her heart longed for more. One morning, having arrived early for an appointment in London, she walked into the Appointments Board office near Euston Square.

“Have you got something exciting a long way away where the sun shines?” she asked.

“What about Kuala Lumpur?”

“Well, that sounds perfect!”

The only problem was, no one in the office actually knew where Kuala Lumpur was, so they got out an atlas to find it.

When the Chief Secretary of the Federation of Malaya, Sir David Watherston, learnt women were being recruited, he cancelled the scheme, arguing that the natives would never work under women. Turnbull, however, had already been despatched, one of only two female officers ever in the Malayan Civil Service.

Coming from grey, spartan England, Malaya seemed to Turnbull a technicolour land of plenty. She arrived at the height of the Emergency, in the midst of tremendously exciting times. During the 1955 federal elections, she served as an elections officer in rural Kelantan, where the local women immediately warmed to her. She would witness all the milestones of Malayan independence: Federation’s independence in 1957, Singapore’s 1959 achievement of self-government, the 1963 formation of Malaysia and separation in 1965.

In Singapore, she also met many of the future leaders she would write about. Dr. Toh Chin Chye, the PAP's first chairman, had the room next to hers at the University of Malaya in Singapore, where the PAP’s Old Guard would hold late night discussions. “If only walls could talk,” she would later muse.

Academia had come calling in 1955. The glass ceiling prevented any promotion in the Civil Service, so when she was offered a position teaching history at the University, she took it. She had intended to teach for only a year or two, but history became a fifty-three year love affair.

Cyril Parkinson, head of the History Department, instilled in her two important beliefs: the first, that they had a responsibility to educate local students to lead their own country. So, unlike the other departments, they accepted as many capable students as he could. Consequently, Turnbull taught many of Malaya and Singapore’s first generation of civil service administrators, who graduated with history degrees.

The second was that students should be learning their own history. He devised a scheme to divide Malayan history amongst his department to research. From this came the beginnings of modern Malayan historiography, including Turnbull’s first book, The Straits Settlements, 1826-67, the first in a long and distinguished career. She continued to write and research right up to the end, having finished the final revisions for the 3rd edition of A History of Singapore the week before she died.

By 1971, she was the very last expatriate left in the University of Singapore. The University had been phasing out expatriates, so with no permanent contract on offer, she moved to the University of Hong Kong, where she spent the rest of her academic career. She retired from there in 1990, a full Professor and Head of the History department.

She moved home, first to Northamptonshire and then to Oxford. There she was active in the University community, and held various fellowships and visiting professorships at other universities throughout the UK. A tireless advocate and friend of Singapore, she spent much time and effort promoting Southeast Asian studies. She was a friend and mentor to many Singaporean students who passed through. But with typical grace and humility, she always felt surprised when they came to her doorstep, looking to meet the Grand Old Lady of Singapore history. A teacher to the end, she would read and critique their work, and tell them stories of Malaya as it had been, when she stepped off the airplane, a young woman looking for a little sunshine and adventure.

Professor C. Mary Turnbull, historian, born February 9th, 1927, died September 5th, 2008, aged 81. Her husband, Leonard Rayner, an accountant, predeceased her. She is survived by two daughters and three grandchildren. A fund to benefit Southeast Asian studies in the University of Oxford is being organised in her memory.

[NB: This is an extended version of the article that was published in the Straits Times on Monday, 6 October 2008.]