Those who are familiar with the writings of the scholar James C Scott and his book, Weapons of the Weak , will know that much of Scott's writings have focused on the internal contradictions and tensions within traditional feudal societies.
In his survey of Malay rural society, Scott analyses how the Malay community has been kept together and, ironically, kept apart thanks to the working of feudal patron-client bonds that not only gloss over the problematic relations of power and privilege that mark the contours of Malay society but also helped to generate those tensions in the first place.
One of the many expressions of Malay cultural identity that Scott analyses happens to be the kenduri or communal feast, that has become a staple marker of Malay identity. In his examination of how village kenduri are organised and managed, Scott brings to the surface the internal problematics that help to shape Malay society in general.
Scott noted that the traditional kenduri was more often than not a cause of tension and anxiety among those who participated in it. This is particularly true in the case where the kenduri in question is given by a powerful and wealthy member of society.
In many cases, Scott notes that village kenduri were organised by influential figures of the local community like the local penghulu (village headman), imam , district officer or high-level bureaucrat. In other cases, the local orang kaya (wealthy businessman) may be the host. In many of these cases, those who are invited are told that they are there to share the goodwill and good fortune of their hosts.
The kenduri is therefore - on the surface at least - meant to serve as a means of establishing social order and equilibrium between the rich and the poor, the haves and the have-nots. Underlying the event is a subtext which states that all those who attend should also be grateful to their patrons and benefactors - and that they should not be too shy about showing it.
But lurking not too deep beneath the surface is the hidden transcript of muted resentment and envy as well. Scott notes that in many of these cases, those who are invited to the kenduri are not naive enough to think that the wealth and munificence of their hosts had anything to do with hard work or charitable benevolence.
More often than not, the guests to these events are well aware of the fact that the kenduri serves one vital purpose in life: to emphasise and reproduce the rigid social order and hierarchy that keeps together this contingent and fragmented social system and prevents it from falling apart.
The kenduri also reminds all of the guests of who is in charge, who is important and who comes first in the pecking order of society. What passes off as charitable benevolence on the part of the patron-host is therefore seen as an expression of largess and power on the part of the recipient. Hardly a surprise, then, if the guests often leave the party moaning and grumbling about the unfairness of life and their own miserable lot.
Leaving the party
At present, there happens to be a lot of other Malays who are leaving another party - though this one happens to be a political party instead. Over the past three years, in the wake of an economic crisis that rapidly spiralled out of control and turned into a political crisis instead, we have witnessed the massive haemorrhage of party members from the dominant United Malays National Organisation (Umno).
Umno, as it is well known to all by now, happens to be a conservative-nationalist political organisation that has based its claim to fame on the project of protecting and promoting Malay collective rights and identity. At the heart of Umno's ideology is the belief in Malay dominance ( Ketuanan Melayu ) which serves as its raison d'etre.
Since it was formed, Umno has presented itself as the patron-protector of Malay interests, and over the years it has amassed for itself vast power and influence through its hold on government and its control of key institutions such as the mainstream media.
For decades, Umno seemed to be the rational and natural choice for those Malays who felt the need to align themselves to a political party and ideology that would protect their interests and identity against the pressing changes brought about by social and cultural transformation as well as the demands of other ethnic and political constituencies.
So strong was this identification between Umno and the notion of Malay rights and identity that the two eventually became synonymous. To be a member of Umno meant being in favour of Malay dominance and Malay rights, and vice versa.
During its heyday, Umno actually meant something tangible for many: It was proof, if any was required, that Malay cultural, economic and political rights could be secured through sound developmental policies and efficient government. The leadership of Umno - particularly during the 1970s - managed to do something which few other governments in the region managed to, namely build solid social, economic and governmental institutions.
Of late, however, there seems to be a visible change in the socio-political terrain of the country. In the wake of the 1998 political crisis, Umno suffered one of the worst blows to its Islamist credentials. As a result, the party has been trying to regain lost ground by upping the stakes in the Islamisation race and trying to out-Islamise its arch nemesis, the Pan-Malaysian Islamic Party (PAS).
There have been many attempts to understand and explain why this change has taken place in Malay society.
Some have argued that this is largely due to the process of globalisation and rapid economic development itself. Thanks to such development, we are told, the notion of Malay rights and Malay identity itself has been put into question and deemed less relevant.
This school of thought argues that with the process of globalisation and economic development, societies will eventually break free from the more localised and parochial bonds of nationhood, race and ethnocentrism. The move away from the register of Malay rights and dominance is, according to this view, a natural evolutionary step for any society and Malay society is no exception to the rule.
Push to the margins
Then there are those who turn to the rising tide of Islamisation that has been in the country since the 1970s, and argue that the eclipse of Malay rights as a political goal is largely due to the shift to a more globalised and universalist Islamist register where notions of race, blood and national belonging are not only seen as irrelevant but in fact antithetical to Islam and the global worldview of the Muslim ummah .
Those who take this view argue that if Malay identity has been pushed to the margins, it is simply due to the fact that it has been superceded by something much bigger and more universal, namely Muslim identity and the unity of the global ummah .
It could be argued that there is some truth in all these explanations (indeed, there must be). But to explain the demise of the notion of Malay rights and Malay political dominance solely in terms of external variables would lead us to a somewhat one-dimensional picture of things.
It would, in the end, give one the impression that Malay society was entirely passive and innate, forever vulnerable to external variable factors beyond its control. Surely we cannot stop there and put the blame only on the outside world. This is where we return to Scott's analysis of kampung life.
Scott's examination of Malay society brings into close focus the contradictions that were always there to begin with. Indeed, one of the points he raises is that the internal dynamics of Malay society owes much to the internal tensions that exist at the heart of Malay society and the Malay feudal and neo-feudal mindset itself.
These tensions come to the surface during public events like the village kenduri. On a broader, grander scale they become manifest in the workings of Malay political culture itself.
One could therefore forward the thesis that the eclipse of the notion of Malay identity and Malay dominance has much to do with the internal contradictions that existed in the Malay body politic itself, divided as it was between the patron-protectors and the protected masses who waited on them.
If the Malays of the kampung were resentful of being the passive recipients of the charity and benevolence of those who lorded over them, it could be argued that what is happening in the country today and in the Umno party in particular is the manifestation of anger, frustration and disillusionment with a political elite that tried to play the role of the "Raja" for too long.
The younger generation of Malays in the local universities who have flocked to the Islamist banner; the poor Malay peasants who have thrown their lot with the Islamic opposition party; and the Malay middle-classes who have sided with the reformist cause - these are all examples of sections of the Malay community who no longer feel that the notion of Malay rights and Malay dominance has any relevance for them.
Poor as before
When I was in Terengganu recently I managed to speak to Malay farmers who openly stated that they voted for the Islamic opposition party. When I asked them why they did so, their response was concise and to the point: "Why should we defend Malay dominance and Malay privileges? After 25 years of living under Umno rule, what does that mean for us? We are just as poor as before!"
That sums up the predicament faced by those who still wish to champion the cause of Malay rights and identity today, a cause which seems more and more romantic by the day.
Umno, of course, knows what it can and should do if it really wants to mend the rot. The party that once promoted the economic developmental agenda was seen as the defender of Malay interests when it seemed to be doing its job well.
However, Umno can only lie to itself if it thinks that it can count on the unquestioning support of the Malays and Malaysians as a whole after decades of unresolved corruption scandals and countless skeletons swept under its increasingly uneven carpet.
For now, however, it seems that the theme of Ketuanan Melayu is about to fade into the sunset. The Kenduri is over, and Umno has to pay the bill, or some might say the bilal* ( muezzin ). And if the ordinary Malays are no longer captivated by the charms of Ketuanan Melayu , it is largely due to the fact that they have grown fed up with some of the "Tuan Melayu (Malay Lords)" themselves.
*Thanks to KR for this one.
DR FARISH A NOOR is a Malaysian political scientist and human rights activist who is currently writing a book on the Malaysian Islamic Party, PAS. "The Other Malaysia" tries to unearth aspects of Malaysia's history and culture that have been forgotten or relegated to the margins, in order to remind us that there remains another Malaysia that is often forgotten.
