|
©The Sun (Used by permission)
by Dr Farish A. Noor
I collect maps as a hobby; and have been collecting them for over two decades
now. The very first woodcut I bought was an image of the port of Malacca from
the Middleton System of Geography, dated 1786, for 30 pounds, in a small rickety
shop in Brighton.
The map collector is a curious sort of spirit, often lost without his or her
chart and a compass to show him or her the way home.
I collected maps of Asia throughout my stay in Europe that spanned more than
half of my life. Perhaps this was a less-than-subtle reminder to myself of who I
was and where I belonged (if, indeed, one can belong anywhere).
As I browse through my maps – the oldest of which is a Munster dating back to
1540 – I witness the gradual crystalisation of this country called Malaysia. The
names on the maps speak of changes in the fate and fortune of empires, and how
the “Golden Chersonese” of the Ptolemic geographies gave way to the “Malacca”
favoured and coveted by the Spanish and Portuguese, and how “the Malay
Peninsula” gave way to “British Malaya” and finally “Malaysia”.
Apart from being a pipe-puffing, Horlicks-drinking fuddy-duddy scholar of the
old school, I also happen to be a political historian by training and accident.
The historian in me values these maps as they relate the narrative of a nation
that is complex and constantly evolving. Maps tell us where we are from and how
we got to where we are today. The question that stands before us now is: Where
are we heading?
I wonder where Malaysia will be in fifty years time when I’ve long since kicked
the bucket due to my debilitating smoking habit.
The maps did not anticipate the emergence of “Malaysia” from the “Golden
Chersonese”, and they certainly hold no clues as to wherewe are going. But for
now at least, this nation that stretches across the South China Sea seems to be
held together by little more than a name. When I read the word ‘M-A-L-A-Y-S-I-A’
writ large, stretched like a rubber band, to cover the peninsula and East
Malaysia, it seems to suggest the plasticity of the cocept and how strained our
sense of collective identity has become.
If the name of our nation-state is not big enough to encompass the complexity of
our richly diverse society, then what can keep Malaysia, and we, Malaysians,
together?
Malaysia was and remains an abstract idea, a concept dreamt of in the cauldron
of geo-politics, contested claims of belonging and the vicissitudes of history
and contingency. Our founding fathers imagined a nation big enough to
accommodate us all, this messy hybrid nation of peoples of many colours, faiths
and tongues.
Our Constitution was meant to protect this diversity, though from the outset
contradictions were already thrown into the bargain with questionable notions of
rightful belonging and special rights for special people added to the recipe.
The past two decades have witnessed, undeniably, the fruition of a long process
of gestation and the natural conclusion of a somewhat skewered settlement that
should have been ironed out better: Despite the tourist ads, race, and now
religion as well, have come to the foreground of Malaysian politics and divided
this nation along communitarian lines.
Our national politics betrays curious family resemblances to the divide-and-rule
policies of the dreaded days of Empire, and the occasional lapse into ethnic
parochialism can sometimes lead to the odd keris being unsheathed in public by
the odder demagogue.
In the midst of all this, have we forgotten our Constitution, that document that
serves as the foundation to the nation-state and which should be the guideline
to our national politics and collective aspirations as well?
Now ask yourself this: After half a century of existence, how many true
Malaysians do you know? The true Malaysian is the one who places his or her
citizenship first and foremost, and despite the temptation to the contrary that
may arise, relegates his or her ethnic, racial, cultural and religious identity
to a secondary position.
The Malaysian belongs to that nation where his or her status, worth and identity
is on par with that other Malaysian beside him or her, who has likewise made
that leap of faith into thinking that national belonging on the basis of an
equal citizenship is something worth struggling and fighting for, even if it
means giving up some comfortable (and often staid and stale) settled
assumptions.
I am proud to say that I am a Malaysian; and my Javanese-Dutch-Indian ancestry
qualifies me as such. I am, however, saddened to admit that in all my years, I
can count the number of true Malaysians I know on one hand.
So my hope for the future is this: Tsunamis and coastal erosion notwithstanding,
I will live with the (hopeful) assumption that Malaysia will remain where it is
on the map.
But in the years to come, may there be more true Malaysians living here as well.
Dr Farish A. Noor is a Malaysian political scientist and historian based at
the Zentrum Moderner Orient, Berlin, and is one of the founders of the
www.othermalaysia.org
research site.
|