In this era of globalisation, that’s not an easy question to answer – nor is it a question easily ignored, of late.
CONTRADICTHEORY By DZOF AZMI, The Star
THE interesting thing about having a name like Dzof is how it confuses people about who you are.
I remember one December after introducing myself I was asked, “And will you be celebrating Christmas this year?”. I answered, “Like every good Malaysian I take every opportunity to enjoy a national public holiday when it comes along”. I think I left the poor lady a little puzzled.
I was reminded of this when the MP for Ipoh Timur challenged the Deputy Prime Minister to state that he’s a Malaysian first, and Malay second. What seemed a relatively straight-forward question produced a heated debate in the press and the blogs (tinyurl.com/ybr8otj and tinyurl.com/y6b3su8), as well as a follow-up in Parliament when the Minister in the Prime Minister’s Department was asked a similar question (except substituting “Chinese” for “Malay” – see tinyurl.com/y57m677). Why is this question so difficult to answer? As far as I can tell, it was sparked by the publication of the Roadmap for the 1Malaysia Government Transformation Programme (downloadable from tinyurl.com/yad53f8). The foreword by the Prime Minister says that the GTP will ensure that Malaysians will “live in an inclusive and diverse society where they consider themselves, first and foremost, a Malaysian (ie, 1Malaysia)”. (My italics.)
Those that answered “race before country” may have argued this: you can always emigrate somewhere else and change your nationality, but you are born into your race and will forever more remain so.
However, I believe that this shows a lack of understanding of what defines race, especially in the new era of globalisation.
For a start, simply categorising the races in Malaysia is a huge task.
One list I found presented: Malay, Chinese, Indian, orang asli, Kadazan/ Dusun, Melanau, Murut, Bajau, Bidayuh, Iban, Orang Ulu, mixed and other Malaysian.
A different list replaced Bidayuh and Orang Ulu with Dayak, and included Skih, Indian-Muslim, Serani, Bugis and the intriguingly labelled “Bumiputra Sabah” and “Bumiputra Sarawak”.
Even under the heading of “Malay”, you could justify enough differences to subdivide them into some of the individual states. Similarly so for Chinese and Indian.
Apart from the sheer number of races, mixed marriages also create new variations. How do you decide what race the child is? Genetically speaking, he will be as much one as the other. Attempts to formalise a method leads to arbitrary decisions that may have no basis in reality (eg, that the child follows the race of the father).
In fact, a number of prominent Malaysians are either a product of a mixed marriage or have married outside their race. For example, the Raja Muda of Perak, Raja Nazrin Shah, has a British father-in-law. Former Prime Minister Tun Abdullah Badawi married Tun Jeanne Abdullah (née Danker), who comes from a Roman Catholic Portuguese-Eurasian family. Datuk Seri Hishammudin Hussein’s grandfather, the illustrious Datuk Onn Jaafar, had a mother who was born in Turkey. And Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad’s father was a Malayali Muslim who came from Kerala, India.
The history of Malaysia is in itself a story of racial diversity. Our heritage is intertwined. How can people be identified as being of a single race when the backgrounds are so varied?
For some insight, I look to no less august a publication than the Malaysian Federal Constitution. It states the following: “‘Malay’ means a person who professes the religion of Islam, habitually speaks the Malay language, conforms to Malay custom.”
It is interesting that three out of the four criteria used are measures of behaviour – and behaviour is something that can change in a person’s lifetime. (The fourth criteria is that they or an ancestor of theirs also must have been born in Malaysia before Merdeka Day.)
Arguably, a newborn baby could not be defined as being Malay, according to the Federal Constitution (at least not until Dewan Bahasa Pustaka adds “googoo gaga” to its dictionaries). But as he grows up immersed in Malay culture, he becomes a Malay through upbringing.
This thus makes a mockery of the idea that one’s race is intransmutable. I suspect that if a child who has no Malay parents is adopted by a Malay family, then that child would be considered to be Malay – including for the purposes of Article 153 of the Federal Constitution (which safeguards the special position of Malays and bumiputra). Whereas if you want to know if somebody is a Malaysian, all you have to do is to check their MyKad or passport.
Back to the question of whether one should be Malaysian first or Malay. The reason why it was so difficult to answer was because it was asked by one politician of another. Thus, the answer had political overtones and had to be carefully considered.
I support wholeheartedly the intent in the GTP that citizens of our country should consider themselves, above all else, Malaysians. To me, this implies that every Malaysian should have the same rights and opportunities afforded to them, regardless of race, colour or creed.
If our nation ever develops to a point that this sentiment is reflected sincerely, then I know we would have transcended the petty arguments that slow our country down, and instead be looking up towards challenging the world together. The fact that this kind of question could be asked for political capital is already a measure of how far we are along the road.
For me, the best way to answer something like this would have been to do it straight: “Actually, both – but why should it matter?”.
■ Logic is the antithesis of emotion but mathematician-turned-scriptwriter Dzof Azmi’s theory is that people need both to make of life’s vagaries and contradictions.
CONTRADICTHEORY By DZOF AZMI, The Star
THE interesting thing about having a name like Dzof is how it confuses people about who you are.
I remember one December after introducing myself I was asked, “And will you be celebrating Christmas this year?”. I answered, “Like every good Malaysian I take every opportunity to enjoy a national public holiday when it comes along”. I think I left the poor lady a little puzzled.
I was reminded of this when the MP for Ipoh Timur challenged the Deputy Prime Minister to state that he’s a Malaysian first, and Malay second. What seemed a relatively straight-forward question produced a heated debate in the press and the blogs (tinyurl.com/ybr8otj and tinyurl.com/y6b3su8), as well as a follow-up in Parliament when the Minister in the Prime Minister’s Department was asked a similar question (except substituting “Chinese” for “Malay” – see tinyurl.com/y57m677). Why is this question so difficult to answer? As far as I can tell, it was sparked by the publication of the Roadmap for the 1Malaysia Government Transformation Programme (downloadable from tinyurl.com/yad53f8). The foreword by the Prime Minister says that the GTP will ensure that Malaysians will “live in an inclusive and diverse society where they consider themselves, first and foremost, a Malaysian (ie, 1Malaysia)”. (My italics.)
Those that answered “race before country” may have argued this: you can always emigrate somewhere else and change your nationality, but you are born into your race and will forever more remain so.
However, I believe that this shows a lack of understanding of what defines race, especially in the new era of globalisation.
For a start, simply categorising the races in Malaysia is a huge task.
One list I found presented: Malay, Chinese, Indian, orang asli, Kadazan/ Dusun, Melanau, Murut, Bajau, Bidayuh, Iban, Orang Ulu, mixed and other Malaysian.
A different list replaced Bidayuh and Orang Ulu with Dayak, and included Skih, Indian-Muslim, Serani, Bugis and the intriguingly labelled “Bumiputra Sabah” and “Bumiputra Sarawak”.
Even under the heading of “Malay”, you could justify enough differences to subdivide them into some of the individual states. Similarly so for Chinese and Indian.
Apart from the sheer number of races, mixed marriages also create new variations. How do you decide what race the child is? Genetically speaking, he will be as much one as the other. Attempts to formalise a method leads to arbitrary decisions that may have no basis in reality (eg, that the child follows the race of the father).
In fact, a number of prominent Malaysians are either a product of a mixed marriage or have married outside their race. For example, the Raja Muda of Perak, Raja Nazrin Shah, has a British father-in-law. Former Prime Minister Tun Abdullah Badawi married Tun Jeanne Abdullah (née Danker), who comes from a Roman Catholic Portuguese-Eurasian family. Datuk Seri Hishammudin Hussein’s grandfather, the illustrious Datuk Onn Jaafar, had a mother who was born in Turkey. And Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad’s father was a Malayali Muslim who came from Kerala, India.
The history of Malaysia is in itself a story of racial diversity. Our heritage is intertwined. How can people be identified as being of a single race when the backgrounds are so varied?
For some insight, I look to no less august a publication than the Malaysian Federal Constitution. It states the following: “‘Malay’ means a person who professes the religion of Islam, habitually speaks the Malay language, conforms to Malay custom.”
It is interesting that three out of the four criteria used are measures of behaviour – and behaviour is something that can change in a person’s lifetime. (The fourth criteria is that they or an ancestor of theirs also must have been born in Malaysia before Merdeka Day.)
Arguably, a newborn baby could not be defined as being Malay, according to the Federal Constitution (at least not until Dewan Bahasa Pustaka adds “googoo gaga” to its dictionaries). But as he grows up immersed in Malay culture, he becomes a Malay through upbringing.
This thus makes a mockery of the idea that one’s race is intransmutable. I suspect that if a child who has no Malay parents is adopted by a Malay family, then that child would be considered to be Malay – including for the purposes of Article 153 of the Federal Constitution (which safeguards the special position of Malays and bumiputra). Whereas if you want to know if somebody is a Malaysian, all you have to do is to check their MyKad or passport.
Back to the question of whether one should be Malaysian first or Malay. The reason why it was so difficult to answer was because it was asked by one politician of another. Thus, the answer had political overtones and had to be carefully considered.
I support wholeheartedly the intent in the GTP that citizens of our country should consider themselves, above all else, Malaysians. To me, this implies that every Malaysian should have the same rights and opportunities afforded to them, regardless of race, colour or creed.
If our nation ever develops to a point that this sentiment is reflected sincerely, then I know we would have transcended the petty arguments that slow our country down, and instead be looking up towards challenging the world together. The fact that this kind of question could be asked for political capital is already a measure of how far we are along the road.
For me, the best way to answer something like this would have been to do it straight: “Actually, both – but why should it matter?”.
■ Logic is the antithesis of emotion but mathematician-turned-scriptwriter Dzof Azmi’s theory is that people need both to make of life’s vagaries and contradictions.
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