Hitler didn't want his remains to be desecrated by the Russian enemy at the gates, and gave specific instructions for his body to be drenched in petrol and burnt beyond recognition. He didn't fancy the fate of Mussolini, whose body was hung upside down from a metal girder in a suburban square, the Piazzale Loreto, for a large angry crowd to insult and physically abuse. Cremation has its advantages. A burial plot could be dive-bombed by marauding pigeons, or end up a collection point for Newater. Singaporeans are more forgiving.
In light of the 24/7 bombardment by the state media, one wonders if they are planning to beatify him. Beatification (from Latin beatus, "blessed" and facere, "to make") is a recognition accorded by the Catholic Church of a dead person's entrance into Heaven and capacity to intercede on behalf of individuals who pray in his or her name. Imagine, our very own Saint Harry.
Before you choose to condemn or bless his memory, consider the childhood he may have had.
Most of us living a humdrum life have pretty happy childhood memories. Lee Kuan Yew's earliest recollection was about being held by his ears and dangled over a deep freshwater well, punishment for messing around with his father's 4711 Brilliantine hair cream. Fifty years later, "I read in the Scientific American an article explaining how pain and shock released neuropeptides in the brain, stamping the new experience into the brain cells and thus ensuring that the experience would be remembered for a long time afterwards." ("The Singapore Story", page 25). Fortunately for us, it's only spurs stuck into the behind for our lot. Perhaps he was imagining JBJ as a father figure when he called him a mangy dog.
If Khaw Boon Wan really wants something to bawl about in parliament, it should be about a tormented childhood, instead of stupid trees whose fallen branches block the road after a heavy thunder storm. Singapore would be a nicer place if the adults are all well adjusted.