Malaysia’s State Formation

This book comes up with the Contested Leviathan Framework to describe the essence of Malaysia’s political economy. The framework is developed from tracing Malaysia’s political economy over approximately 157 years (1800–1957) and tested against the many issues confronting post-colonial Malaysia. Using concepts of timing, sequence, path dependence and increasing returns the book explains that Malaysia’s political economy is the result of deep institutional processes, not a contrived act that was hatched at the point of independence. The book explains that whilst British administration made short-term rational choices, it failed to take into consideration the path-dependent nature of policy choices and their long-term unintended consequences that preserved Malaysia’s terms of reference and produced autonomous communities with mutually exclusive political, economic and social institutions. These institutional qualities made it imperative for actors, at some point, to embark on some form of power-sharing arrangement. Applying the Contested Leviathan Framework the book explains that recent events – the first electoral turnover in 2018 and the formation of a unity government in 2022 – have done little to dismantle the character of Malaysia’s political economy; a state that still sees political, economic and social life along ethnic imperatives driven by mutually exclusive institutions and interests.

Abdillah Noh is an associate professor in the Department of History and International Studies, Universiti Brunei Darussalam. He works in the area of institutions and institutional change. His recent book is Issues in Public Policy and Administration in Malaysia: An Institutional Analysis.

Routledge Studies on Islam and Muslims in Southeast Asia

Series Editors: Syed Muhammad Khairudin Aljunied, Kamaludeen Mohamed Nasir

1 Foundations of Islamic Governance

A Southeast Asian Perspective

Maszlee Malik

2 Indonesia, Islam, and the International Political Economy

Clash or Cooperation?

Mark Williams

3 Race, Religion, and the ‘Indian Muslim’ Predicament in Singapore

Torsten Tschacher

4 Malaysia’s State Formation

Small Steps and Large Outcomes of a Contested Leviathan

Abdillah Noh

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/Routledge-Studies-on-Islam-and-Muslims-in-Southeast-Asia/book-series/IMSEA

Malaysia’s State Formation Small Steps and Large Outcomes of a Contested Leviathan

Abdillah Noh

First published 2024

by Routledge

4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN

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© 2024 Abdillah Noh

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British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 9781032340951 (hbk)

ISBN: 9781032340968 (pbk)

ISBN: 9781003320548 (ebk)

DOI: 10.4324/9781003320548

Typeset in Galliard

by codeMantra

Contents

1 Introduction

2 The Malay Administrative System on the Eve of British Rule

3 The Pangkor Agreement and the Start of British Residential System

4 The Years of Divided Affiliations (1930–c.1942)

5 The Post-war Years and the Consociational Logic

6 May 1969 and the Events Leading to It

7 Conclusion

Bibliography

Index

1 Introduction

DOI: 10.4324/9781003320548-1

At the point of writing this book, Malaysia just concluded its 15th General Election. The results show a country divided along ethnic lines. Two political parties, the Pan-Malaysian Islamic Party (PAS) – whose votes come mainly from the Malay community – and the Democratic Action Party (DAP) – whose votes come mainly from the Chinese community – were the biggest winners; the PAS won 43 seats and the DAP 40 seats. An electoral map showing how Malaysians voted indicates such stark voters’ preference. The west coast states of the Malaysian Peninsula showed a sea of red, indicating the seats won by the Pakatan Harapan (PH) of which the DAP was the top performer. The east coast and the northern states of the Malay Peninsula saw a sea of green, indicating the big gains made by the Perikatan Nasional (PN), a coalition of which PAS was the top performer.

The election saw a hung parliament – the first time in Malaysian history – after both the PH and PN coalitions failed to win enough seats to form the next government. The few days after the election saw rounds of political bargaining. The impasse was resolved after the Barisan Nasional (BN) – the party that technically ruled Malaysia for 61 years – turned kingmaker after winning 30 seats and decided to join hands with the PH to form a unity government. The decision came after the Yang Di Pertuan Agong, the Malaysian King, called on political parties to reconcile for the sake of national stability. The formation of the unity government however left a bitter aftertaste for party loyalists as sworn and bitter enemies, the DAP and the United Malay National Organisation (UMNO) – which is the major Malay-based party in the BN – would now have to work together for the first time. This unprecedented event stumped even the most optimistic of Malaysia’s political pundits.

For those not familiar with Malaysian politics, the 2022 general election could help acquaint them with the essential vocabularies of Malaysia’s political economy. The big wins by PAS and the DAP emphasise that in Malaysian politics, identity politics matter. PAS’ huge electoral gains also show that Islam and Malay remain dominant configurations in Malaysian politics. The hung parliament and the BN’s decision to join hands with bitter enemies also show another side of Malaysian politics – the audacity or quirkiness of Malaysian politics. The intervention of the Malaysian King – the Yang di Pertuan Agong – to avoid political impasse also shows the central role of the Malay monarchy in Malaysia’s constitutional democracy. In fact, the role of the Malay royal house has become more prominent in the last few years as Malay Sultans played a more active role in arbitrating political disputes and averting prolong political crisis.

The 2022 general election further dashed any hope Malaysians have of a new chapter in Malaysian politics. Many held such a hope in 2018 after the country experienced its first electoral turnover that saw the end of the Barisan Nasional’s 61-year rule. The “new Malaysia” that many heralded did not materialise. The new Pakatan Harapan government (Coalition of Hope) lasted for only 22 months, marred by ethnic-laced issues, patrimonialism and inconsistent policy moves.¹ Change agents who were instrumental for Malaysia’s electoral turnover in 2018 were not only incapable of instituting reform promises but were themselves caught by Malaysia’s institutional qualities – that of identity politics and patrimonialism.²

But to put things in perspective, despite battling a highly fractious and fragmented polity for the most part of its post-independent years, Malaysia remains one of the most viable and attractive economies in the region. Economic growth since its independence in 1957 has been commendable. Hardcore poverty has been sharply reduced. In 1957, nearly half of Malaysians were classified as poor. Today extreme poverty stands at about 5 percent. In 1960, the country’s GDP per capita stood at USD 250. Today, Malaysia’s GDP per capita stands at about USD 11,100. Wealth distribution is also relatively even. Malaysia’s Gini Coefficient – a measure of income distribution – stands at about 60, with 100 indicating the highest level of equality. Indeed, despite its many problems, good growth has marked Malaysia’s political economy.

Malaysia’s political, social and economic particularities however, remain a knotty issue. The anomalies, quirkiness or puzzling nature of the Malaysian polity that is constantly facing the spectre of political fragmentation obviates some questions: Is there a systematic way of assessing the character of Malaysia’s political economy? Put differently, is there a blueprint by which we can understand Malaysia’s political economy?

There are attempts to explain Malaysia’s political economy. In the late 1970s and 1980s, explanations on Malaysia’s political economy were dominated by the class argument. This view explains that Malaysia’s political economy is best understood from the relationship between race, class and the colonial structure. Malaysia’s racial differentiation, this perspective suggests, is the result of the imposition of a colonial structure where race became coterminous with the class structure.³ The class explanation argues that Malaysia suffers from an overlap of class identification with ethnicity and that this class contention is perpetuated by powerful Malay bureaucratic class who is aligned not only with Chinese comprador class but also with foreign capital.⁴ Another explanation of Malaysia’s political economy is the functionalist argument. A functionalist sees current political, social and economic arrangements as the best outcome because “existing institutions and behavior are thought to evolve through some form of efficient historical process”.⁵ Malaysia’s plural society, this view argues, is a consequence of British colonial policy that introduced and structured economic order by race. In particular, British attitude in Malaya was driven by two factors: the increasing legitimacy of racial theory given the development of social Darwinist thought and the need for British authority to justify the “spread and maintenance of colonial rule”.⁶ This would see Malays indulging in small-scale agricultural setups and non-Malays involving in urban sunrise industries that inadvertently produced plural communities. More contemporary works on the nature of Malaysia’s state-society relations adopt the neoliberal/utilitarian perspective. This perspective sees policies as a result of competition between actors, each of whom attempts to achieve utility-maximising outcomes. Utilitarianism sees political and economic outcome as “a game-like contest in which power-seeking individuals, or institutions compete for resources and the support of voters to maximise personal resources”.⁷ This perspective views Malaysia’s political economy as one characterised by high state intervention (utility maximizing interest) that is organised along ethnic consideration with large consequences to resource distribution that led to forms of patronage and crony capitalism.⁸

There are merits to the above explanations. But there is also a case for an alternative explanation to Malaysia’s political economy, one that combines historical accounts that emphasise elements of timing, process, sequence and interesting returns with utility-maximising rational choice explanation. Such hybridization of explanations can provide a more comprehensive framework or blueprint to explain the character of Malaysia’s political economy. In attempting to do so, this book asks a fundamental concern: Is there a DNA to Malaysia’s political economy? Put differently, can we provide a comprehensive framework or blueprint to describe and explain the character of modern Malaysia’s political economy?

In developing this blueprint, this book employs the institutional analysis. It combines both the deductive and objective reasoning of the utilitarian approach with inductive reasoning that comes from a close analysis of Malaysia’s historical experience. Applying concepts like path dependence, timing, increasing returns and sequence, this book explains that the character of Malaysia’s political economy is the result of deep institutionalisation processes. It is the result of British colonial administration’s short-term rational policy choices that failed to take into account the path-dependent nature of policy choices that would bear long-term unintended consequences. In describing the character of Malaysia’s political economy, the book focuses on two of Malaysia’s major communities – Malays and Chinese. It will explain that British policies engendered two processes in the Malayan political economy; first, a less-than-full-retrenchment of Malay political dominance by preserving Malay de jure power and a less-than-full incorporation of new actors that bore repercussions to Malaya’s political economy in the long term. The unintended policy decisions to preserve Malay de jure power while at the same time embarked on half-hearted measures at incorporating non-Malays’ economic, political and social presence encouraged the growth of autonomous groups whose exclusive political, economic and social organisations began to exact competing demands on Malaysia’s term of reference. Ultimately, this would result in contending groups embarking on some form of consociational or power-sharing arrangement as they negotiate access to political, social and economic resources. This book develops the Contested Leviathan Framework to capture such explanation.

The Contested Leviathan Framework

The Contested Leviathan Framework is this book’s attempt to capture the dynamics and essence of Malaysia’s political economy. The framework describes the extent to which Malaysia’s mutually exclusive ethnic institutions and interests continue to make contending demands on the country’s terms of reference that necessitated the need for the state to produce some form of power sharing/consociational arrangement in its effort to bring equilibrium to a contested leviathan (Figure 1.1).

Figure 1.1 The Contested Leviathan Framework.

There are three components to the Contested Leviathan Framework. The first – the middle box – is the “terms of reference”. These are the basic terms of reference that make Malaysia. Whether we agree or disagree, Malaysia has three main terms of reference – Monarchy, Malay and Islam. These three features have stood the test of time, being a dominant feature of Malaysia’s political history – pre-colonial (Malay States), colonial (Malaya) and post-colonial period (Malaysia). While the Malaysian Federal constitution describes Malaysia as a parliamentary democracy, a representative democracy with a functioning bicameral legislature, the country remains a constitutional monarchy with the King as the paramount leader which embeds within it, the preservation of Malay and Islam. As the following chapters will describe, one cannot disentangle the Malay monarchy from the idea of Malayness and Islam. Islam has been a feature of the Malay Peninsula from as early as the ninth century. Melaka (Malacca) was the first Malay sultanate that incorporated Islamic principles in state administration after its King Parameswara converted to Islam. Islamic principles were first adopted to deal with religious matters before becoming guides in the running of state administration. One of the oldest documents to indicate this is the undang-undang Melaka (The laws of Melaka). It had six sections; two of which – the Islamic marital laws (Hukum Perkahwinan Islam) and laws on Islam and Johor (Undang-undang Islam dan Johor) – detailed the incorporation of Islam in Malay statecraft. Pre-colonial Malay States borrowed Islamic terms such as As-Syura (consensus) and Al-Adalah (equality and inclusiveness) as tools of statecraft. Every Negeri (state) had a legislative body known as mesyuarat bicara (from the Arabic term Syura), which was an assembly of ministers and nobles. At the mesyuarat or Syura, decisions were done through muafakat (consensus) rather than majority ruling.⁹ Consensus is very much part of the Malay psyche. The Malays have a saying that “muafakat membawa berkat” which means that God’s blessing comes from seeking consensus and consultation.¹⁰ These features were to become major features of Malay governance, augmented by a legislative body that treated decisions as a collective act.

British administration continued the essence of Malay States’ pre-colonial administrative arrangement. British colonial rule did not do away with the Malay monarchy, Malay customs and Islam in its policy calculations. It was a rational decision on the part of the colonial administration partly because not providing such legal institutions to “Mohamedan” laws could invite grievances from Malay aristocrats. During 100-odd years of British presence in the Malay States, Malay Sultans remained as head of the various Malay States exercising de jure power and continuing their role as guardians of Malay customs and Islam. During British rule, Malay sultans continued to head the state council even as they took advice from British residents who assumed de facto jurisdiction over administrative decisions. Despite giving up de facto rule, exercising de jure power was enough to see the Malay aristocracy continuing their roles in the colonial administration and fuelling the growth of many Malay-based institutions. British rule would see a slow build-up of Malay capacities and institutions. This build-up of Malay capacities and institutions was the result of a mixture of British policies and the changes in the political economy that forced Malay States and Malay rulers to restructure state-society arrangement. The early years of British rule saw Malay aristocrats abandoning the feudal economy for the modern economy, joining the wage economy as administrators in the colonial government that provided them with new skills in administration and statecraft. The setting up of a Malay college to prepare young Malay aristocrats for positions in the colonial administration was the work of Malay aristocrats. This would see more Malays joining the colonial administration with some of them ending up leading Malay nationalist movements. Increased experience in modern statecraft and education consolidated the de jure role of Malay rulers that would see them demanding the colonial administration to provide more special privileges for Malays to join the civil service. The laws of increasing returns suggest that with time, Malay aristocrats began to demand more from the colonial administration for Malay-based institutions that effectively accentuated Malay de jure power and created a dense network of Malay-based institutions. These institutions include the Durbar of Rulers – an upper house of representatives reserved for Malay sultans, the Malay Land Reservation Act to protect Malay lands, the Malay Administrative Service (MAS) to produce more Malay administrators, special quotas for Malays in the civil service and for more Malays to join the prestigious Malayan Civil Service, among other things. Inadvertently as a result of preserving Malay de jure power and improving Malay administrative capacity, the colonial administration became accidental champion of Malay monarchy, Malay rights and Islam. The law of increasing returns also guarantees that with greater Malay capacity, these terms of reference – Malay, Monarchy and Islam – continued to be an integral part of policy calculations in modern Malaysia. There were attempts by the colonial administration to emasculate Malay de jure power. These attempts not only failed but ironically, they led to further consolidation. One such British attempt to unwind Malay de jure power and Malaya’s terms of reference came in the form of the Malayan Union proposal in 1946. The project failed as a result of unprecedented Malay opposition that eventually led to the drafting of a new Federal agreement that would entrench Malaya’s terms of reference incorporating the role of the Malay monarchy, Malay privileges and the role of Islam. The agreement was also a prelude to the drafting of Federal Constitution. At independence, Malay, Islam and Monarchy are provided for in the many articles in the Federal constitution, specifically articles 3, 152, 153 and 181 of the constitution. The ensuing chapters will describe many episodes in Malaya’s history that threatened to remove these terms of reference which were met with resistance. The Malayan Union in 1946, the events surrounding the murder of the first British resident, J. W. Birch, in 1875 and the bloody riot in May 1969 are some examples of events that attempted to revoke Malaya’s terms of reference that not only resulted in resistance but an entrenchment of these terms of reference. It is important to emphasise at this point, that while at its very core, Malaysia’s terms of reference are seemingly non-negotiable, they are negotiable in so far there are no attempts to completely remove the position of Malay, Islam and Monarchy. In other words, constancy does not necessarily mean non-negotiability.

Another component in the Contested Leviathan Framework is the presence of mutually exclusive ethnic institutions. The exclusive nature of Malay institutions described above was evenly matched by the emergence of non-Malay exclusive institutions, specifically involving, Malaya’s second largest community, the Chinese. British facilitated Chinese labour in the nineteenth century driven by short-term, rational economic need to tap organised Chinese labour and capital. This need for labour and capital saw the colonial administration affording the growth of Chinese Kongsis or secret societies (a form of organised labour), implementing liberal immigration policy and tolerating Chinese transnational ties that, in the early twentieth century, gave China-based political movements’ access to Chinese capital and resources in the Malay States.¹¹ Unbeknown to them, the British administration became accidental champion to a growing Chinese autonomous community. Path dependence and increasing returns ensured the continued growth of autonomous Chinese community. British encouragement and accommodation of Chinese labouring and capitalist classes produced a powerful community that became increasingly factored into Malaya’s political and economic calculations. In the late nineteenth and twentieth century, this took the form of political affiliations, labour unions, schools and strong Chinese transnational political ties. Chinese transnational politics particularly began to take on a life of its own, producing many exclusively Chinese-based institutions in the form of trade unions, reading rooms, publications, political parties etc. There were British attempts to close off Chinese transnational ties and to bring about a localised Chinese community but these initial attempts failed. The Malayan Union was one such attempt as it promised common citizen rights and equal opportunity to non-Malays. But while the Malays displayed unprecedented Malay nationalism against the union project, there were no competing attempts by the Chinese community, much to British officials’ surprise. One British officer, Edward Ghent, who was promoting the union, remarked that the lukewarm response was because the Chinese community was consumed with China’s domestic political struggle. Indeed, until the late 1940s, the heavy presence of Chinese transnationalism and the war in China had diluted and diverted the community’s attention from seeking a Malayan identity. Chinese transnationalism became less of an issue after 1950 and slowly evolved into a Malayan-centred political struggle due to a confluence of factors – the start of China’s communist rule in 1949 that curtailed Chinese movement, the struggle for Malayan independence and the integration of Chinese communities within the larger Malayan community as a result of British immigration policy in 1939 that relaxed female Chinese migration to Malaya that resulted in a more settled Chinese community. The period after the 1950s would see Chinese exclusive institutions taking on domestic concerns of nation-building. Citizenship of non-Malays became an important issue and much debated during Malaya’s seek for independence. Increasingly, a localised exclusively Chinese set of institutions – in the form of political parties, schools and Chinese associations – began to play a role in dictating the direction of Malaysian politics that would see the community taking on long-running negotiation and contestation of Malaysia’s terms of references.

Taking into account the various components that make up Malaysia’s political economy, the Contested Leviathan Framework suggests that equilibrium is struck when contending parties seek and agree on sets of compromises after their attempt to exact contending demands on the terms of reference threaten to unravel the contested leviathan. Equilibrium is restored through acts of political accommodation or consociationalism. This ability by actors to strike an agreeable equilibrium has been a character of the Malaysian political economy, one that is proven on many occasions in Malaysian history, even to this day.

In describing this equilibrium, this book will use the term consociationalism. It needs mentioning that the term “consociationalism” is thrown to many interpretations and that there are those who argue that Malaysia’s accommodative politics is unlike Lijphart’s version of consociationalism. This book does not want to overindulge in semantics over the term consociationalism but suffice it to suggest that reading Malaysian history reveals many traits that adhere to Lijphart’s four characteristics of consociationalism: elites attempt to accommodate divergent interests; elites attempt to transcend cleavages and attempt a common effort; elites’ commitment to maintain a system and improve cohesion and stability and; most importantly elites’ awareness of the perils of political fragmentations.¹² The following chapters will demonstrate that on many occasions political actors agreed on consociationalism despite their persistent contest over Malaysia’s terms of reference driven by mutually exclusive sets of ethnic interests. The formation of the Alliance Party in 1955, the merger and separation of Singapore from Malaysia, the May 1969 ethnic disturbance, the formation of a new alliance in the form of the BN in 1973 and the more recent formation of the unity government after the bruising general election in 2022 all demonstrate this character of the Malaysian political economy that can be best understood by theContested Leviathan Framework.

This book is an outcome of a project that started more than ten years ago. While it took some time to compile works on the Malaysian political economy and produce a coherent story, the long gestation period has turned out to be a blessing. It has allowed me to test the Contested Leviathan Framework during Malaysia’s most trying of political episodes, the years between 2008 and 2022. What is surprising or unsurprising – depending on how one views it – is that despite the many changes that have happened in Malaysian politics, the fundamental character of the country’s political economy remains intact and this is best explained by the Contested Leviathan Framework. Despite the promise of a “new Malaysia” following the country’s first electoral turnover in 2018, Malaysia continues to be a contested leviathan. The country’s terms of reference remain intact despite being subjected to contestation throughout Malaysia’s history. The state continues to see political, economic and social life defined along ethnic imperatives and most distinctly, political coalition comprising of ethnically orientated institutions remains an indispensable configuration. We look now at the tools of analysis used in this book to explain the character of Malaysia’s political economy.

Institutions and Tools of Analysis

In explaining Malaysia’s political economy and the Contested Leviathan Framework, this book employs the historical institutional analysis. Historical institutionalism seeks to explain large outcomes and asks “big” questions¹³ like: how does a state develop certain institutional features; why are some countries stable democracies or why are some states prone to revolutions and others not?¹⁴ This approach argues that institutions matter. While individual agency cannot be fully discounted, the character of the state cannot be reduced to an aggregate of individual behaviour; individuals’ choices are “affected by the values expressed by the institutions to which they belong”.¹⁵ Institutions are “humanly devised constraints that structure political, economic and social interactions”.¹⁶ They can take the form of formal rules like law and property rights or informal constraints like sanctions, taboos, tradition and codes of conduct.¹⁷ Institutions are known, practised and accepted (although not necessarily approved) by actors. They provide predictability to behaviour¹⁸ and as a result can be stable features of state’s character.¹⁹ The Contested Leviathan Framework captures the intricacies of Malaysia’s institutionalisation process. The framework reflects members’ preferences, perceptions and demands of political, social and economic resources as well as depicts stable institutional structures, like Malaysia’s terms of reference despite the many changes that the country is experiencing.

In explaining large outcomes, historical institutionalism pays attention to historical process. Temporality and timing are important to an institutional analyst. Institutionalists see institutions as a function of time and see the importance of conjuncture of events in shaping policy decisions. In analysing policy choices and decisions, institutionalist pays attention to concepts of path dependence, increasing returns, timing and sequence.²⁰ Path dependence has many definitions. One definition is “that what happened at an earlier point in time will affect the possible outcomes of a sequence of events occurring at a later point in time”.²¹ Another definition of path dependence is of “those historical sequences in which contingent events set into motion institutional patterns or event chains that have deterministic properties”.²² Perhaps a more lucid description of path dependence is one that defines it as “once a country or region has started down a track, the costs of reversal are very high”.²³ While there could be other choices “the entrenchments of certain institutional arrangements obstruct an easy reversal of the initial choice”.²⁴ British less-than-full retrenchment of Malay power and less-than-full-incorporation of Chinese in the political economy set off path-dependent process that saw a proliferation of Malay and Chinese-based mutually exclusive institutions that would prove difficult to unwind.

Tied to path dependence are concepts of self-reinforcing mechanisms or increasing returns.²⁵ Making initial choice can be crucial because once a choice is made, a self-reinforcing mechanism will kick in where “each step in a particular direction makes it more difficult to reverse course”.²⁶ While there is a possibility of reversing the initial choice and opting for an alternative one, large setup costs, learning effects, coordination effects and adaptive expectations²⁷ might make opting for other choice points increasingly difficult. A policy, once introduced, triggers a series of processes. It encourages institutional learnings where stakeholders would invest further in the policy by way of fine-tuning the policy or expanding the policy’s relevance to other areas. A policy could also produce other institutions that support the initial policy choices that over time create a dense institutional network. Equally important, is that a policy choice create expectations and predictability of behaviour on the part of stakeholders so much so that efforts at undoing the initial decision and processes would meet resistance given high learning costs. The Pangkor Agreement gave the colonial administration de facto rule but preserved Malay de jure rule. The preservation of Malay de jure power was enough to ensure continued investment in Malay institutions that, over time, led to a dense Malay institutional network. This dense network came in the form of a specialised MAS, the creation of Malay land reservation policies, state provisions for Malay education and the creation and growth of Malay organisations. Over time, this institutional preservation and expansion reinforced Malay capacity in the new political, social and economic arrangement that translated into the production of other policy arrangements and gave rise to Malay nationalism. British policy to enact the Malay land reservation enactment in the state of Selangor in 1913 was premised on protecting Malay lands from commercial appropriation at the height of the Malayan rubber industry. The policy decision in Selangor not only gave definition to what is a Malay – which is still in use now – it set in motion similar acts in other Malay States. The increasing returns nature of such institutional formation made future British attempts to undo these institutional formations costly. Similarly, the colonial administration’s liberal immigration policy that was meant to encourage the importation of Chinese capital and labour and British tolerance of Chinese transnational politics for purpose of not upsetting Chinese economic production created a dense Chinese institutional network that would have repercussions on Malayan politics in the years ahead. This dense Chinese network took the form of close state-Chinese business nexus, promotion of Chinese labour interest (e.g. Chinese Protectorate Office) and the establishment of Chinese transnational organisations in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century that fostered the establishment of a community with exclusive sets of institutions. British policy decisions to allow privately funded Chinese schools, the use of Chinese, not English, as a medium of instruction and the incorporation of China’s education syllabus in Chinese schools contributed to the gradual build-up of an autonomous community that would in the coming years see stakeholders contesting Malaya’s terms of reference.

The above examples are just a few to demonstrate that the longer, more stable and more invested an institutional arrangement is, the harder it is to dismantle given the law of increasing returns.²⁸ Policies have a strong tendency to persist once they become deeply institutionalised. This difficulty is due to increased stakeholders’ expectations from existing institutions as a result of increasing returns. The production of webs of institutional setups in support of the initial policy also meant that doing away with particular institutions would be politically costly. Supplanting existing institutions is possible but “once a state has started down a track, the costs of reversals are very high”.²⁹ The ensuing chapters will demonstrate the increasing returns nature of institutional build-up and how attempts to undo such institutions became not only difficult but increasingly costly.

The Scope of This Book

This book pivots its argument on the Contested Leviathan Framework. In piecing Malaysia’s political economy, it adopts historical sequencing, process tracing and timing to reiterate the concepts of path dependence and increasing returns. Rather than take snapshots of historical events and policies to fit an overarching thesis, the use of historical institutional analysis forces the need to take a “moving picture” to trace important events and policies throughout Malaya’s history. This exercise required sourcing inputs from an eclectic range of works on Malaya and Malaysia – from history, politics, sociology to economics. Adopting institutional analysis improves validity and reliability because emphasis on sequence and timing eliminates selection bias as it forces the researcher to account – sequentially and temporally – major historical episodes and explain possible counterfactuals.

This book comes with limitations. One caveat is that it focuses largely on the interaction and development of Malaysia’s two dominant population groups, the Malays and Chinese. The reason is obvious. The character of Malaysia’s political economy has been dictated primarily from the interaction of these two groups. The historical literature on Malaya is centred on the political, economic and social dynamics of Malaya’s three important actors, British, Chinese and Malays. If one were to browse the archival materials on British Malaya, the Krastoka Index or the Public Records Office of the National Archive, Malays and Chinese-related issues dominated colonial administration policy considerations.³⁰ The two groups dominated Malaysia’s political, economic and social dynamics not only historically but in contemporary times. In post-independent Malaysia, political, social and economic calculations are made primarily on the basis of the dynamics of these two groups even when we are increasingly seeing intra-group differences. The focus on the two groups does not mean that other ethnic groups played no part in Malaysia’s institutional development.³¹ Rather, the focus on Malays and Chinese is solely due to the fact that the two groups indisputably dominated the political, economic and social agenda of colonial Malaya and modern Malaysia.³²

Another limitation of this book is that it focuses on the political, economic and social development of West Malaysia. It does not cover the historical development of the East Malaysian states of Sabah and Sarawak. At a glance, it is wrong to use the term “Malaysia” as the book pays attention to the historical development of West Malaysia. But this reference should be immaterial as the study is a historical analysis of consociationalism in Malaya between the period 1800 and 1957, a time when the Borneo states of Sabah and Sarawak were not part of British Malaya. In addition, the Contested Leviathan Framework, while a product of the historical development of West Malaysia, is now part of East Malaysia’s political arrangement by default. Though the two states of Sabah and Sarawak are late entrants to the polity, they have been co-opted into West Malaysia’s institutionalisation process over the years. Political arrangements in Sabah and Sarawak mirror that of West Malaysia when it comes to the formation of coalition and even voting patterns. However, it must be said that Malaysian politics post-2018 now see Sabah and Sarawak developing their own idiosyncratic institutions as they increasingly become an important bloc in deciding the direction of Malaysia’s political economy. This should be given closer attention in the coming years.

Another thing to note is that the book uses – Malay States, Malaya and Malaysia – interchangeably because when describing a historical episode switching the terms to honour historical time could end up confusing the reader. Take for instance the Sedition Ordinance/Act. It is a product of the “Malay States” (British colonial rule), Malaya (after 1957) and Malaysia (when it was revised in 1970). While there is a need to be cognisant of historical moments by using terms like Malaya, or Malay States or Malaysia, using these terms in the same sentence to pay respect to historical moments could interfere with the essential message of the sentence.

This book covers two periods of Malaysian history – the colonial period and the post-colonial period. The first period, circa 1800–1957, describes the formation of Malaya’s various institutions and the creation of autonomous communities that are major components of the Contested Leviathan Framework. The second period, between the years 1957 and 1972, will describe the various issues confronting a young independent nation. This period will test out the robustness of the Contested Leviathan Framework in dealing with various issues confronting Malaya/Malaysia. The initial plan was to describe Malaysia’s political economy from 1957 to 2022, but due to space limitations, this section will only describe the post-1969 period, in brief, mainly to explain the point that despite the many years of independence, the Contested Leviathan Framework is still very much at work.

Chapter 2 of the book covers Malaya’s history between 1800 and 1874. This chapter sets out the political and economic background of the Malay States on the eve of British presence in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It describes the founding of the Straits Settlements and how the settlements – given their proximity and their growing trade links with the Malay States – were pivotal in establishing British influence on the Malay States that led eventually to British forward movement. The chapter sets the stage in explaining the important elements of a contested Leviathan. Paying attention to historical timing, sequence and process, it will describe the early years of the development of exclusive institutions and the prevalence and persistence of Malaya’s terms of reference. This chapter will discuss briefly British colonial policy and practices in the Malay States, the purpose of which is to establish an important quality of British policy decisions – that British policies in the Malay States were short-term, rational and utilitarian in nature but with long-term unintended consequences. This chapter will also explain how the onset of British involvement followed a path-dependent process that triggered institutional changes in the Malay States. It will describe the gradual introduction of new actors purely for economic utilitarianism that ultimately changed the political economy of the Malay States. It will give a historical account of the rapid introduction of organised Chinese capital and labour and how – with time – these new actors alongside Malay rulers played an increasing role in determining a new political and economic arrangement in the Malay States. This chapter will conclude by describing the Pangkor Treaty in 1874, highlighting how the Treaty kept the terms of reference of the Malay States. While British officials had de facto rule over the Malay States, de jure rule was kept by Malay rulers that would later form the basis of Malay institutional development in the coming years. This chapter will set the tone for the coming chapters; that British colonial policy was that of rational short-term decision that saw it managing the expectations of Malaya’s old and new actors with the least of economic and political costs but one that would bear unintended long-term consequences.

Chapter 3 covers Malaya’s development between the years 1874 and 1930. It traces the changing political and economic complexion of the Malay States following the Pangkor Treaty. It will provide an overview of Malaya’s economic development and the changing nature of Malaya’s economic structure. This chapter reiterates British rational short-term policies. While the policies were effective in driving the colonial economy and managing the expectations of Malaya’s old (Malays) and new actors (Chinese), they produced long-term unintended consequences that saw a slow but sure formation of autonomous communities with exclusive institutions. In attempting to manage Malay expectations, British de facto rule did not injure Malay de jure rule that ended with the colonial administration preserving the terms of reference that define the Malay States. This less-than-complete retrenchment of Malay political power set off processes that raised Malay expectations, increased Malay capacity and created a repertoire of Malay-based institutions that saw the rise of Malay nationalism. At the other end of the scale, British administration continued dependence on Chinese labour and capital saw the growth of autonomous Chinese communities. British avoided implementing unnecessary measures that would upset Chinese resources and raised production costs. This would see the administration co-opting Chinese business interests in its political and legislative decisions. This included tolerating Chinese transnational political activities that were directed at China’s domestic political struggle and Chinese organised labour and capital (in the form of Chinese Secret Societies that were made unlawful only at the end of the nineteenth century). This forbearance of Chinese organised labour and transnational politics saw the development of an autonomous Chinese polity demonstrated by the growth of Chinese political, economic and social organisations. The chapter will conclude that by the 1930s, Malaya was seeing the firm formation of two autonomous groups, each with its own set of political and economic expectations. The period attests to how British attempts to manage the expectations of Malaya’s two communities had resulted in the formation of self-reinforcing mutually exclusive institutions that would prove difficult to unwind in the coming years.

Chapter 4 describes the Malayan political economy during the period 1930–1942. It builds on the previous chapter by describing the continued formation of two autonomous groups entrenched further by the presence of a dense network of institutions. This chapter describes heightened Malay political expression brought about by increasing number of Malay intellectuals who were beneficiaries of British policies. These Malay intellectuals were pivotal to the growth of Malay social and political organisations³³ and the development of a pan-Malay consciousness. Pan-Malay consciousness was matched by the entrenchment of Chinese institutions. The chapter will describe the aggressive promotion of Chinese transnational politics that gathered momentum during the run-up to the Sino-Japanese war of 1938 and during the Japanese occupation. This period saw a dense formation of exclusively Chinese political and social organisations, buoyed by the consolidation of the Kuomintang (KMT) activities in Malaya and the increasing influence of the Malayan Communist Party (MCP), two organisations that made special efforts to court the Chinese community by using China’s domestic struggle as a basis of support and legitimacy. This chapter will describe how British short-term rational policies that facilitated and tolerated the development of autonomous communities in exchange for optimal economic outcome have started to produce long-term change to Malaya’s political economy. British tolerance of the development trajectories of autonomous Malay and Chinese communities saw mutually exclusive institutions being reinforced over time that would give rise to dense institutional networks that would make contending demands on Malaya’s terms of reference.

Chapter 5 captures the post-war period. Elaborating on path-dependence the chapter describes how British colonial policies had brought about the maturing of Malaya’s plural society manifested by the presence of two autonomous communities with exclusive sets of institutions and expectations. The chapter also describes how the two autonomous groups found themselves facing the challenge of finding an arrangement that could best reconcile not only mutually exclusive sets of institutions and interests but one that would come to terms with Malaya’s terms of reference. Various institutional permutations were tried to best distribute political and economic resources and bridge the institutional divide. In the process, the period laid bare the potency of autonomous communities. It saw the radicalisation of ideas that precipitated political clashes along communal lines. This radicalisation of ideas took on greater momentum during the “Malayan Spring” – a time when the colonial administration relaxed the rules on political association to promote a civil society. The relaxation of rules brought about a proliferation of social and political organisations that produced greater political flux. This period also saw the unexpected emergence of Malay nationalism triggered by the Malayan Union proposal, a proposal that challenged Malaya’s terms of reference. In the struggle for independence, the Contested Leviathan Framework was on full display, one that saw Malaya’s two autonomous communities making competing political and economic demands and negotiating Malaya’s terms of references. Three institutional arrangements or permutations were put up namely, the integrationist proposal, the partition solution and the consociational arrangement. In the end, Malaya opted for the consociational arrangement that would set the tone of Malaysia’s political and economic character.

The next chapter describes Malaysia’s difficult post-independent years. The first 12 years following independence were a tumultuous one, a period that saw mutually exclusive ethnic institutions and interests testing further Malaysia’s term of reference. The chapter will describe Singapore’s inclusion in Malaya to form a new state, Malaysia. The acrimonious dispute between Singapore and Malaysian leaders that led to Singapore’s eventual split was an accident waiting to happen. The merger project highlights the importance of a fundamental feature of the Contested Leviathan Framework – the terms of reference. The hard reality is that Malaysia and Singapore inherited different terms of reference. Malaya and Singapore had different social, political and economic legacies and priorities. The two years that Singapore was in Malaysia saw leaders from both sides bickering over different institutional assumptions and terms of reference that made the whole project untenable. It was eventually apparent to leaders of Malaysia and Singapore that they were working on different assumptions on how best to organise the new Malaysian society. Singapore’s separation from Malaysia in 1965 did not stop the continued test on Malaysia’s terms of reference. In fact, the period 1965–May 1969 tested Malaysian politics. The terms of reference were subject to heavy contestation by Malay and non-Malay institutions that threatened to upset a fragile political equilibrium. The introduction of the Malay language act in 1967, the currency devaluation that led to the hartal and ethnic clashes in 1967 and the many issues leading to the May 1969 elections and subsequent riot all point to a Leviathan under severe stress from contending demands. The imposition of the emergency and an interim government to bring about normalcy led to revisions of some existing acts and the introduction of new policies that, in aggregate, served only to strengthen Malaysia’s terms of reference. The consequence of the deadly riot led to the formation of Malaysia’s unity government in 1972. This took the form of a new alliance – the BN – a coalition made up of political parties that many would never thought capable of striking partnership. Many would never guess that Malaysia would see a repeat of such an act in 2022. We turn now to the start of British presence in the Malay States.

Notes

Noh and Yashaiya (2023).

Noh and Yashaiya (2023).

Abraham (1977, p. 16).

Several works on Malaysia in the 1970s took on the class explanations. Some of them include Jomo (1986). Also Hui and Canak (1981).

March and Olsen (1984, p. 737).

Hirschman (1986, p. 341).

Buchanan and Tullock (1962, p. 13).

Gomez and Jomo (1997), White (2004) and Hui (1985).

Noh (2014, pp. 206–207).

Noh and Yashaiya (2022, pp. 56–57).

Noh (2022).

This will be elaborated further in the following chapters. Lijphart (1969).

Goldstone (2006, p. 9).

Skocpol and Pierson (2004, p. 3).

Peters (2019) in Noh and Yashaiya (2022, p. 7).

North (1990b, p. 97).

North (1990b, p. 97).

O’Donnell (pp. 34–51).

Noh and Yashaiya (2023).

See for instance Mahoney (2000), Pierson (2000, 2004) and North (1990b).

Sewell (1996, pp. 245–80).

Mahoney (2000, p. 507).

Levi (1997).

Levi (1997, p. 265).

David (1985, pp. 332–7) and Arthur (1994, pp. 13–32).

Pierson (2004, p. 77).

Arthur (1994, pp. 13–32).

Pierson (2004).

Levi (1997).

The Krastoka Index lists all British colonial documents in terms of Subject matter and/or dates. It is a useful index to get access to the important CO 273, CO 717, CO 537 and CO 426 documents.

There are substantial Indian Migration to Malaya that happened late in the nineteenth century. For more of this, read Amrith (2010).

See works by Amrith (2009) and Amrith (2010).

Emmanuel (2010).

2 The Malay Administrative System on the Eve of British Rule

DOI: 10.4324/9781003320548-2

The Malay States, on the eve of British presence in the late eighteenth century, had a feudal administrative arrangement. The political, social and economic institutions of the Malay States were fashioned after the Malacca’s Temenggong system.¹ The Malay States were formed along main rivers, with natural watersheds demarcating state boundaries.² These states were named after major rivers such as Selangor, Terengganu, Perak, Sungei Ujong and Pahang. Towns were built around river mouths and villages were dotted along main rivers. Rivers provided the main source of revenue for these settlements where states imposed various forms of taxes and tolls for people and goods servicing the waterways.³

Up until the nineteenth century, individual Malay States did not see themselves as part of a larger Malay political entity. The Malay political community did not go beyond the limits of the state or Negeri and each state pursued its own political and economic interests. The Negeri was headed by a Raja or Sultan who was given the honorific title of Yang di Pertuan Negeri. The role of the Yang di Pertuan was symbolic in nature and expressed the unity and integrity of the state. Malay Rajas were assumed to have been endowed with a sovereign power called Daulat. The Daulat was a covenant between Malay rakyat and the Sultan where in return for the unswerving loyalty of the rakyat (people), the Sultan would have to ensure that the rakyat were justly treated.⁴

The Sultan did not have absolute power. In some Negeri, power was devolved to Malay chiefs.⁵ At times such dispersion of power saw Malay chiefs exercising power far in excess of the Sultan.⁶ Succession for instance was usually decided by Malay nobilities rather than by the Sultan. Also, the appointment of the next Sultan may not necessarily follow the patriarchal line but instead lay at the discretion of the Malay nobilities.

The Malay aristocracy or nobilities formed an important component of the Malay States’ governance structure. In a typical Malay administrative structure, the Bendahara was the second in command after the Sultan and assumed the role of Chief Executive or in modern parlance, the role of Prime Minister. The Bendahara also acted as a Chief Judge and had an influential role in deciding the succession to the throne. Other senior ministers included the Temenggong who would take charge of security and the police force, the Laksamana who acted as chief naval officer and the Penghulu Bendahari who assumed the role of chief financial officer, in charge of the state’s revenue and the overall upkeep of the Sultan’s servants and clerks. Another important officer was the ulamak, or Islamic religious chief whose rank equaled that of the other senior ministers described above. Below these senior ministers were other nobles, either of royal descent or with a title bestowed by the Sultan. Besides the ministers, the Sultan was aided by territorial chiefs, who would take charge of an area in the state, most usually their place of residence. These chiefs had broad territorial power where they had near autonomy over their respective district.

The Negeri also had a legislative body known as the mesyuarat bicara, an assembly of ministers and nobles. Decisions made at the mesyuarat bicara were usually done through muafakat consensus rather than majority ruling. This is in keeping with the Malay adat (custom practices); Malays believe that muafakat membawa berkat which means that blessing comes with consensus.⁷

The relationship between Malay chiefs and the rakyat (people) was based on patronage. A typical chief would have a retinue of about 50 loyal followers who would assist in the running of the chief’s household, his fields and mines and the affairs of the district. This retinue of followers could comprise debt bondsmen and bondswomen. The bondsmen would serve as attendants, helping out in the domestic household and serving as boatmen. The bondswomen would take charge of household concerns and provide nursing care. Should extra labour be needed, manpower would be mobilised by the system of kerah or corvee labour.⁸ The territorial chiefs also had their own deputies, minor chiefs and village headman or Penghulu. The Penghulu would take charge of collecting taxes and tolls, administer the territories under his care and mobilise the rakyat as required by the Sultan.

Malay States Economic System

On the eve of British colonial influence, the Malay States had an economic production system that was based on feudal practices. The Malay States were not self-sufficient. They relied greatly on external trade where indigenous products like tin, gutta percha and forest products were traded in exchange for finished products like clothing and food.⁹ During the Malaccan sultanate in the fifteenth century, coins were used as medium of exchange.

Nineteenth-century Malay States also had an elaborate land administration system where the land tenure system was based on the adat or customary laws.¹⁰ Types of land tenure system included the tanah mati or dead land tenure system, where anyone could take up land left abandoned. There was also a land transfer arrangement where the new owner would pay the cost incurred in clearing the land and reimburse the previous cultivator for the crops planted. There were also other land arrangements like the sewa or letting and gadai or securitisation.¹¹ Despite the different types of land codes, ownership of the land resided with the state and not the cultivator. The cultivator was only a tenant and hence subject to the terms levied by the kerajaan or the state.¹²

Taxation also formed an important part of the feudal economy. The state’s main tax revenue came from land exaction and trade. Taxes were imposed on merchants for the goods traded for export as well as import. Agricultural produce was also subject to tax. In some states the tax was one-tenth of the agricultural harvest.¹³ Toll charges were also imposed on the use of waterways. In describing the governance structure of the state of Perak, Wilkinson (1971) provides a glimpse of the revenue structure and the extent of monopoly that the Malay ruling class had over the state’s revenue.

The ruler…[d]erived his principal revenue from the duty (chukai Kuala Perak) levied on all produce entering or leaving the state by the mouth of the Perak river. The duty probably varied from time to time…[T]he Bendahara…derived his revenue mainly from a toll station (Batang Kuala Kinta) that levied duties on all produce entering or leaving the Kinta River…[T]he Temenggong derived his revenue from a monopoly of the sale of salt and ataps…[T]he Maharajalela…[d]erived revenue…[f]rom certain customs dues drawn from the Sungei Dedap…[T]he Laksamana…[l]evied tolls on the river Batang Padang…[t]he Dato Bandar acted as a sort of harbour master, customer officer, protector of immigrants and superintendent of trade.¹⁴

Tin production was the main component of the economy in pre-British colonial Malay States.¹⁵ In the seventeenth century, the Malay States was the largest exporter of tin in the region before the discovery of huge tin reserves in Pulau Bangka, an island off the coast of Singapore.¹⁶ As proof of the extent of tin production in the Malay States, Dutch records for instance describe an expedition by the Kedah ruler to trade tin on the Indian Coramandel coast in the seventeenth century.¹⁷

Before the start of large-scale tin extraction, Malays dominated mining activities. Stamford Raffles and Newbold (1839) commented that, in the early nineteenth century, Malays were the principal miners in the Peninsula¹⁸ and were involved in all facets of the production cycle from the mining of ores to the transporting of the minerals. Tin production was carried out by local Malays using a technique called lampan. The tin mines in the Malay States were controlled by members of Malay aristocracies either through direct ownership or through the imposition of a levy on the production and export of the ores.¹⁹ In the early nineteenth century, Chinese miners also operated in the tin mines but they were largely concentrated in then Dutch-controlled Malacca. A report in 1818 estimated that there were about 400 Chinese spread throughout the Malay Peninsula engaged in mining activities and these were mainly concentrated in Malacca.²⁰ Wong (1965) also noted that the mines in Perak, Selangor and Sungei Ujong were operated and funded by Malays unlike the tin mines in the Straits Settlements of Malacca which were purely operated by Chinese.²¹

The scale of mining production in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries in the Malay States was small given rudimentary mining techniques. It is estimated that between 1787 and 1839, Perak produced between 5,000 and 9,000 pikuls or about 300 to 540 tonnes of tin ores.²² Given the small scale of tin production, it was obvious that the traditional tin mining methods employed in the Malay States could not remain for long. Over time, the Malay States’ exposure to the flow of cheap capital from the Straits made local tin mining methods untenable. The discovery of huge tin deposits in Perak and Selangor in the late 1840s, for instance, saw Malay chiefs doing away with the feudal arrangement and incorporating more advanced production techniques.

The indigenous political, social and economic institutions, started to change during the nineteenth century as a result of increasing British presence that introduced alternative economic and political arrangements. These new forms of labour and capital arrangements mounted a serious challenge to the Malay feudal economy that led to its slow demise.

The Weakening of the Old Malay Order

British presence in the nineteenth century led to the abandonment of feudal practices and the adoption of British-style capitalistic arrangements. This shift – from feudal to capitalist – was, however, incremental in nature. Feudal practices like corvee labour and debt bondage were only abandoned in 1890, almost 100 years after British set foot on the Malay Peninsula.

The retrenchment of the feudal arrangement was aided by the internal failings of the feudal system that afforded little entrepreneurship and incentive for capital accumulation. The feudal system had property laws that inhibited production and innovation. Land for instance remained with the state, not with the individual. Long-term investment thus was pointless because at any time the state had the right to revoke lands that had been worked.²³ The oligarchic nature of feudalism where wealth and power concentrated around the ruling Malay chiefs encouraged patronage. Under such a system, the rakyat depended on Malay rulers for political and economic resources, which gave little inducement for the rakyat to be productive.²⁴

The asymmetrical nature of the power structure meant that the feudal arrangement was open to abuse and malpractice. Malay chiefs for instance would force men to work the lands, confiscate productive agricultural lands or take away excess agricultural produce from those who worked on it.²⁵ In his expedition to the eastern coastal states of Pahang and Kelantan, Munsyi Abdullah, a well-known scholar and adviser to Stamford Raffles, wrote of how feudalism blunted the rakyat desire to be productive. People, he wrote, were impoverished not for the lack of energy but because they lived in continued fear brought by feudalistic practices. The rakyat felt that it was useless to be productive because

If a man does acquire property or a fine house or a plantation or estate of any size, a Raja is sure to find some way or other to get hold of it, or he may demand a loan or a gift. And if the man refuses, the Raja confiscates his property; if he resists, he and his whole family are killed, fines are levied.²⁶

Such feudal practices (patronage, debt bondage, forced labour, non-productivity) became gradually irrelevant with the introduction of British-style administration and economic production that saw Malay actors (rulers and chiefs) becoming increasingly invested in new economic arrangements. The higher returns from such investment reinforced the change process that made the feudal arrangement increasingly unattractive and untenable.

The changes brought by the new modes of production were far-reaching and challenged existing state–society relations. If under the feudal system, social, economic and political relations were customary (adat), under the new system, relationships would have to be law based; if authority under feudalism was personal, under the new system, Malay rulers would have to contend with the law in order to establish their authority; and if the social order was based on personal authority and customary obligation, the Malay rulers would now be increasingly exposed to the impersonality of laws or individual rights.²⁷ In short, “contracts”, “wages”, “agreements”, “property” and “individual” rights started to enter the vocabulary of these Malay States.

In sum, Malay feudal societies – which were petty, disparate, agrarian and weak – were made to undergo a sharp learning process which involved the dismantling of the feudal system, the introduction of new economic and political arrangements and the reconfiguration of the role of old political actors. These changes nonetheless generated “a great source of discontinuity” because they “froze the social trends in the antecedent political system” and “implanted a new but alien dimension of order”.²⁸ The changes brought by British-induced capitalistic economic production were huge that resulted in political, social and economic flux in Malay society. Hugh Clifford, High Commissioner to the Malay States, best summed up the transformation that the Malay States were made to undergo by the end of the nineteenth century saying that “one cannot but symphatise” with the Malays because “we are really attempting… [t]o crush into twenty years the revolutions in facts and in ideas which, even in energetic Europe [took] six long centuries… [t]o accomplish”.²⁹

We turn now to the start of the British presence on the fringes of the Malay Peninsula with the founding of the Straits Settlements of Malacca, Penang and Singapore. The setting up of these trading outposts would introduce new forms of economic and political arrangements that would precipitate many changes to existing Malay feudal arrangements.

The Start of British Rule – The Straits Settlements and British Influence over the Malay States

British initial presence in the Malay Archipelago went as far back as 1592 when a ship, the Edward Bonaventure anchored in Penang. Soon after, the British established factories in the northern Malay States of Patani (now part of southern Thailand) and Kedah, where British traders were involved in tin, silver and pepper trading. The factories in Patani were abandoned in the face of rising Dutch competition but trade with Kedah continued until the eighteenth century.³⁰

The early expeditions were preludes to an eventual British presence in Malaya in the late eighteenth century, a presence that would span almost 150 years. British interest in the Malay Peninsula and the archipelago was driven by trade imperatives. In an age where maritime powers, like the Dutch and later the French, competed for presence in Southeast Asia, there was a need for Britain to take a strategic position in the region to secure one of the world’s most important trade routes, the Straits of Malacca. In 1785, a merchant and captain, Francis Light, obtained a letter from the Sultan of Kedah that gave the East India Company the lease to the near-uninhabited island of Pinang (Penang). The agreement was in exchange for British protection of Kedah against potential attacks by Siam. In July 1786, Francis Light was appointed Superintendant of Penang which marked the start of the British presence in the Malay Peninsula.³¹

Penang’s location, at the entrance of the Straits of Malacca from the Bay of Bengal, aided the East India Company to trade opium and cotton from India and tea and other raw materials from China and Southeast Asia. Its proximity to the Bay of Bengal also made it a convenient careening station; besides Bombay, Penang acted as an alternative port for repairs of British ships plying the Bay of Bengal.³²

The acquisition of Penang was followed by British control of another island, Singapore. Singapore’s location fitted Stamford Raffles’ idea of a trading port.³³ For some time, Raffles was on the look out to set up a trading factory near the south of the Straits of Malacca as he felt that Penang was too far north to take full advantage of trade between India, China and the Malay Archipelago. Raffles believed that an optimal British station would be down south at the narrowest point of the Straits that would cater to the natural confluence of ships coming from the west and east of the Malay Archipelago.³⁴

In 1819, the island was secured from the Johor–Riau sultanate, after the Temenggong of Johor agreed to allow the East India Company to set up a small factory at the mouth of the Singapore River. In June 1823, British decided to take control of the whole island after the British-appointed Sultan Hussain agreed to cede Singapore. In exchange for ceding Singapore, Sultan Hussain received 5,000 Spanish dollars and the Temenggong of Johor received 3,000 Spanish dollars.³⁵ Singapore turned out to be the East India Company’s most important outpost. Raffles stated that in acquiring Singapore, his object was not territory but trade. Singapore, to Raffles, was the crown jewel in the east as Malta was to the Company in the west. ³⁶

After securing Singapore, the East India Company expanded its presence on the fringes of the Malay Peninsula by acquiring another important trading port along the Straits of Malacca, Malacca. Malacca came under British control in 1824 after the signing of the Anglo-Dutch Treaty, where Dutch and British governments agreed to swap territories; Britain agreed to give up Bengkulu (Bencoolen) in Sumatra to the Dutch in exchange for the Dutch agreeing to give up Malacca to Britain.³⁷ The Anglo-Dutch Treaty is a classic case of the flag following the trade argument as the treaty drew up new boundaries³⁸ for the British and Dutch as they sought territorial control for access to new markets and new trading opportunities.³⁹

With Penang, Singapore and Malacca under its control, Britain now gained an important foothold in the Straits of Malacca and in the Malay Peninsula. In the coming years, the Straits Settlements of Singapore, Malacca and Penang would act as launch pads for capital and labour to access the Malay States that would change the political, economic and social complexion of the Malay States. We turn now to a new phase in the political and economic development of Malay States after the establishment of the Straits Settlements.

The Start of British Soft Power 1800–1874

The Straits Settlements acted as an important gateway for Britain to establish trade with the rest of Southeast Asia. British presence in Penang and Singapore leveraged its control of trade with China, India and the Malay Archipelago against regional maritime aspirants like the Dutch and the French. In the early years of British presence, there was little to show of British ambition in the Malay States. British engagement with the Malay States came at the request of Malay rulers. As Cowan (1961) puts it,

The Malay States looked to the “Bengal Company”… as the arbiter of local politics. To it they reported the accession of new rulers, and from it they asked help when in trouble. Though the company was unwilling to assume this role of paramount power, and tried to keep clear of any official connexion with the Peninsula states, her links with them tended to grow.⁴⁰

The Malay rulers’ willingness to engage the East India Company was due to the British unobtrusive display of power and its lack of ambition for outright intervention. It is not surprising that the first quarter of the nineteenth century saw various Malay States (Kedah, Perak, Selangor, Terengganu, Johor and Pahang) establishing treaties with British (Straits) authority.⁴¹ The earliest treaty that was entered into between Britain and the Malay States was the Andersen Treaty in 1825. The treaty came after the Malay State of Perak asked for British protection to avert a potential Siamese attack. Despite protests from India and Siam, the Andersen Treaty was concluded by Captain James Low and Sultan Abdullah of Perak, where the Straits authority agreed to provide British support for Perak against Siamese aggression.⁴²

The Andersen Treaty was followed by the Burney Treaty in 1826 which involved Siam, the East India Company (Straits government) and the Malay States. The treaty came after Perak, Kedah, Terengganu, Kelantan and Selangor asked for British protection, given renewed fears of Siamese aggression. Under the treaty, the Siamese government agreed not to put Perak and Selangor under its rule.⁴³ The treaty also set the southern boundary of Kedah and made provision for Britain to trade with the northeast and eastern Malay States of Kedah, Kelantan and Terengganu.⁴⁴

The Burney Treaty saw the Kedah government agreeing to grant Britain a stretch of land on the mainland of the Malay Peninsula, adjacent to Penang, which was later called Province Wellesley. The new province extended Britain’s territorial foothold in the Malay Peninsula. Province Wellesley gave the British Straits Settlement a contiguous border with Kedah and Perak on the mainland that greatly facilitated the movement of people and goods from the Straits Settlements to the states of Perak and Kedah in the coming years.⁴⁵

The Andersen Treaty and the Burney Treaty and the willingness of Malay rulers to ask for British assistance could have contributed to Britain’s growing territorial ambition and intervention in the Malay States. But, Britain’s foray into the Malay States was one of caution in the early years, after its first military venture into the Malay States did not go as planned. Britain’s costly war with Naning, a small town, 10 miles from Malacca, held in check its territorial ambition. In 1831, the East India Company entered into war with Naning with the hope to exact control over the state after it claimed that Naning had breached the Anglo-Dutch Treaty. Under previous Dutch control of Malacca, Naning had agreed to give a fixed amount of tribute – one-tenth – of its harvest to the Dutch and the British were expecting the same arrangement following the Anglo-Dutch treaty. This claim however was refuted by Naning’s local chiefs. To exact its terms, the East India Company took on an 11-month war sending in 1,400 men from India to bring Naning under control.⁴⁶ The operation failed and the Naning War cost the East India Company some £100,000⁴⁷ a huge amount considering that the East India Company was struggling with its finances.

After the Naning War, there was a decided shift in British appetite for direct intervention in the Malay States, demonstrated by the various treaties that ensued. In 1832, the British entered a treaty with Rembau, another town close to Malacca. Under the Rembau Treaty, the East India Company agreed to renounce all rights over the district, where the Dutch previously had monopoly of Rembau’s tin output.⁴⁸ At about the same time, Britain also refused to interfere in the affairs of Johol, a town bordering Malacca despite calls from Chinese merchants from Malacca for British intervention to curtail the high levies imposed by Johol Malay chiefs on traders for the use of the Linggi River, a major waterway traversing both Johol and Malacca.⁴⁹ Such British retraction of any intention of direct rule is perhaps best demonstrated by the remark made by the Straits Governor Ibbetson, in 1833, regarding the boundary between Malacca (Straits Settlement) with the nearby Malay town of Johol (part of Negeri Sembilan and near to Naning). Ibettson regarded the “frontier delimitations [between Johol and Malacca] as an excellent opportunity for showing that accessions of territory and encroachments upon their rights, is the furthest from our views and intentions”.⁵⁰

Though there was no outright intervention, the changing political and economic conditions of the Malay States and the region made it increasingly difficult, perhaps impossible, for the British authority and the Straits merchants to remain uninvolved in the political, economic and social affairs of Malay States. British involvement also continued to be aided by Malay States that increasingly looked towards the Straits government for solutions to domestic problems. In 1857, the state of Terengganu asked for British protection against possible Siamese attacks. This request was augmented by appeals from Straits merchants operating in Terengganu who asked for some form of British support.⁵¹ In response to the demands, the Straits government invoked the clause in the Burney Treaty as licence to interfere in Terengganu. In November 1862, Governor Cavenagh sent warships to the Terengganu coast and shelled the fort in Terengganu, which eventually quelled the Siamese intention.⁵² Though Cavenagh’s action was condemned by Whitehall as interference, the Terengganu War highlights Malay rulers’ increasing willingness to seek the British support for political and economic redress. As one author puts it, British had established a “moral dominance” over the Malays and that Malays rulers were “overawed by the presence of a race the extent of whose perversion (sic) they cannot estimate, and whose civilisation they cannot expect ever to attain to or even to imitate”.⁵³

One state that displayed willingness to take British advice was Johor. Until the year 1866, the Johor administration operated from Singapore. And until that year, the Temenggong of Johor chose to reside in Telok Blangah which is in the southern part of Singapore and not in Johor on the mainland. So convinced of British authority, the Temenggong fashioned the Johor administration after the Straits government and had a legal adviser from the Straits Settlements.⁵⁴ The British administration also went some way to cultivate its relationship with the Johor royal house. British officials gave high regard for the Temenggong of Johor and approved of the Temenggong’s attitude towards development. British officials’ intimacy with Johor rulers is best summed up by Harry Ord, the Straits Governor when he said that the Temenggong “is deeply attached to the British government and nation” and “he is ready at all times to place the whole resources of his country at our disposal”.⁵⁵ Such was the relationship between the Straits government and the Johor administration that Frank Swettenham, Resident and later High Commissioner for the Malay States, felt that the British should have more control over Johor.⁵⁶

British influence over the affairs of Johor extended beyond the political. Economically, Johor was tied to the vicissitudes of the Straits economy, specifically that of Singapore. In the years after the founding of the Straits Settlements, Johor’s economic development became the work of the Straits authority, Malay rulers and Chinese capital. In the 1830s, the Johor government together with the Straits government encouraged Chinese migrants from Singapore, specifically pepper, opium and gambier growers to move into southern Johor⁵⁷ where they set up revenue farms along riverways. These settlements were called Kangchu or river settlements.⁵⁸ The Kangchu turned out to be a lucrative business for both Johor and Singapore. Until 1862, revenue from the tax farms was shared equally between the Straits government and Johor. In 1864 more than $1 million was invested in the gambier and pepper plantations in Johor.⁵⁹

Johor’s disposition towards British ideas is not an exception. The Temenggong of Johor’s affinity for the British administration was matched by Tengku Dziauddin, also known as Tengku Kudin, the Regent of Selangor, who ruled Klang and Kuala Selangor between 1870 and 1874. Dziauddin was highly regarded by British administrators. He was described as “a thoroughgoing admirer of European manners and customs” and retained a European lawyer.⁶⁰ Straits Auditor General, Charles Irving commended Dziauddin’s style of administration, saying that he understood the need for development and for Selangor to employ an administration “under a sound footing under the advice of a European lawyer of Singapore of good reputation”.⁶¹

The examples above indicate the attractiveness of British economic and administrative ideas to Malay rulers. The Malay elites’ willingness to incorporate British-inspired institutions eased the way for British management of Malay States and Malay actors in the years ahead. We turn now to other factors that played an important role in the political and economic configuration of the Malay States.

Britain’s Growing Political and Economic Influence in the Malay States

From the late 1830s, there was a confluence of factors that aided the political and economic transformation of the Malay States. Interest in the Malay States grew after Straits traders were squeezed by a series of regional trade restrictions and protectionist policies imposed by Spanish, Dutch and French-controlled territories. In 1833, Britain lost its monopoly of the Chinese trade that threatened the status of the Straits Settlements as transhipment hubs.⁶² Besides losing monopoly of the Chinese trade, growing regional competition also drew Straits traders to look for new markets in the Malay States. Trading opportunities were further squeezed after Spain began to take greater control of the islands of Sulu in Southern Philippines from 1840s and imposed high tariff duties on foreign traders.⁶³ Straits traders’ access to markets also became harder when, in 1855, the Dutch authority in Batavia (Jakarta) gave trading privileges to the Dutch National Trading Corporation (Nederlandsche Handelmaatschapij) that effectively meant that local traders in the archipelago gained better terms of trade from conducting trade through the Nederlandsche Handelmaatschapij rather than through non-Dutch trading companies, such as the East India Company.⁶⁴ In 1858, the French government also imposed trade restrictions on non-French ships, after it took control of Annam and Cambodia in Indochina. Foreign ships were allowed only in Saigon and the coast of Cochin China was subjected to a blockade.⁶⁵

There were other factors in the 1840s that favoured Straits’ interest in the Malay States. To start, high global demand for tin in the 1840s coincided with the large discoveries of tin deposits in the Malay States of Perak, Selangor and Sungei Ujong during that period. Interest in Malayan tin also grew after Britain lowered duties on imported tin under the Peel Reform Act in 1842. This was further boosted when in 1853 Britain completely removed duties on imported tin. The demand for tin was matched by large influx of labour migrants into the Malay States. The 1840s saw the establishment of treaty ports in China as a result of the end of the Sino-British opium war that released large number of Chinese labour migrants. These conjunctures of factors led to an increase in tin production and an influx of cheap capital and labour into the Malay States.⁶⁶

The Straits Settlements, especially Penang and Malacca – the two settlements that were closest to tin production centres of Perak and Selangor – greatly benefitted from the rise in tin production in the Malay States.⁶⁷ Exports of tin from the Malay States helped energise Penang, Malacca and to lesser extent Singapore as transhipment hubs. Not surprising, mining sites in Lukut and Sungei Ujong (both close to Malacca) and Larut (close to Penang) attracted great interest from European and Chinese merchants from Malacca and Penang.⁶⁸ Between 1846 and 1851, Malacca saw tin output increase from 231 pikuls to about 14,000 pikuls.⁶⁹ Between 1844 and 1858 the volumes of tin exported from the Straits Settlements to Britain doubled. The quality of tin from the Malay States also improved with time. By the late 1850s, Malayan tin could compete with the much-prized and high-quality Bangka Tin, which was owned by the Dutch India Company. By 1870s, Straits’ tin was comparable to the finest English tin and commanded a premium price (see Tables 2.1 and 2.2).⁷⁰

The economic attractiveness of the Malay States gave rise to growing calls from the Straits Settlements’ trading community for Britain to be more involved in its dealings with the Malay States. To the Straits traders, the Malay hinterland was a frontier economy, an untapped market that could not be ignored. As far back as 1844, Straits merchants were building a case for British intervention in the Malay States, with some calling for a full annexation. The Straits business community’s sentiment on the Malay States is well captured by an article in 1847 that urged Straits administrators and capitalists “to deviate a little from the beaten path” because they could find in the Malay Archipelago “almost unbounded stores of the most valuable articles of commerce”.⁷¹

The economic attractiveness of the Malay States inevitably led to a large movement of Chinese capital and labour from the Straits Settlements. This movement of Chinese labour and capital especially into the tin mining Malay States would result in a huge transformation of the political economy of the Malay States. We turn now to the presence of a burgeoning Chinese community that would bring deep and lasting changes to the political economy of the Malay States.

The Chinese Community in the Malay States

The large movement of Chinese migrants into the western coastal Malay States of Selangor, Sungei Ujong, and Perak started in earnest from “about the 1840s.”⁷² It was also the time when large tin deposits were being found in Perak and Selangor.⁷³ Before the 1840s, there were Chinese in the Malay States but these were small in numbers and were concentrated in the Malay States close to the Straits Settlements of Malacca that were rich in resources.⁷⁴

Chinese labour and capital offered growth to the political economy of the Malay States. The experiences of the Straits Settlements suggested to the British administration that using Chinese capital and labour was the most cost-effective way of achieving economic objectives. Early British officers like Stamford Raffles and Francis Light had a deep respect for and fascination with Chinese labour and industry. Francis Light saw the Chinese as “the most valuable part of our inhabitants” and Raffles saw Chinese as an important factor to Singapore’s success saying that “from the number of Chinese already settled and the peculiar attractions of the place for that industrious race, it may be presumed that they will always form by far the largest part of the community”.⁷⁵ It was just as well that Chinese labour was in abundant supply in the 1840s as the end of the Sino-British opium war in 1842 encouraged Chinese labour migrants to make their way to the Nanyang (Southeast Asia) and elsewhere from the treaty ports in China.⁷⁶ The sparse population in the Malay States plus the timing of the discovery of large tin deposits in these states made for a perfect fit.

The growth of the Chinese population and the Chinese role as an important economic player in the Malay States were evident after the middle of the nineteenth century. Take the town of Lukut, which borders Malacca. In 1824, there were about 200 Chinese miners in Lukut.⁷⁷ By 1874, Lukut had over 10,000 Chinese miners.⁷⁸ Elsewhere, Selangor also attracted a large number of Chinese entrepreneurs and labourers. In 1857, Raja Jemahat of Lukut took two Chinese taukehs⁷⁹ to Kuala Lumpur, in Selangor, to prospect for tin. By 1871, Selangor had some 12,000 Chinese miners. In Larut, Perak, when Long Ja’far introduced Chinese miners to the site in 1850, there was no Chinese.⁸⁰ By 1862, there were about 20,000 to 25,000 Chinese miners. And, by 1872, the Chinese population in Larut had doubled to about 40,000.⁸¹

The assessment of the political and economic transformation of the Malay States and the role of the Chinese migrant communities would not be complete without mentioning Chinese Kongsis and secret societies. We turn to this next.

Chinese Business and Chinese Secret Societies

In the nineteenth century, Chinese secret societies played a pivotal role in the economy of the Malay States. Much has been written about the Chinese secret societies, but a key concern here is the central role played by Chinese secret societies as they became locked in a relationship that involved British officials, Malay ruling chiefs and Chinese taukehs.

Most literatures agree that secret societies in the Straits and the Malay States were offshoots of the Thien Ti Hui (the Heaven and Earth League). They were also known as the Hung (Flood) league or the Sam Hup (or Three Unities League) or Triad Society.⁸² It is said that by the 1840s, the Thien Ti Hui (the Heaven and Earth League) was purportedly governed by a Council of four officers, where each officer represented different Chinese tribes: Amoy (Hokkien), Kheh (Hakka), Teouchoo (Tiuchiu) and Macao (Cantonese).⁸³

There are, however, various interpretations on the function of Chinese secret societies. One interpretation sees Chinese secret societies as a “range of social and economic configurations that includes everything from business partnerships to clan and regional associations to secret triad societies”.⁸⁴ Newbold (1841), however, sees the formation of Chinese secret societies or Kongsis as a coping mechanism to respond to an unfamiliar environment. He sees Chinese Kongsis in Malacca, Java and Borneo as a response by Chinese immigrants to bind “themselves together as a means of defence and self protection in a foreign land”.⁸⁵ Wang (1979) views secret societies as “a vehicle of Chinese autonomy within the colonial rule in Southeast Asia” and describes Chinese Kongsis as organisations rooted in Chinese partnership and brotherhood traditions. Wang does not see Chinese secret societies in Southeast Asia as a carry over of the Chinese brotherhood in China that attempted to overthrow the Ching dynasty. Rather, Chinese secret societies in the Malay Archipelago were ones that were connected with the “rise of overseas mining industry”⁸⁶ and that generally evolved “from a small partnership, either in commerce or mining”.⁸⁷

The first record of the existence of secret societies in the Straits Settlements was in Penang.⁸⁸ The earliest evidence of secret societies in Singapore was recorded in 1824 by Abdullah Munsyi, Raffles’ Malay interpreter and teacher.⁸⁹ In 1825, an inquiry into the riot involving Chinese secret societies revealed that there were seven secret societies in Penang. In 1826, reports had that there were also about 4,000 triad members in Malacca, drawn from the different plantations and tin mining areas that lay outside Malacca. In 1829, it was reported that there were nine secret societies spread across the Settlements.⁹⁰

Secret societies grew in membership throughout the nineteenth century and became more pervasive in settlements with large concentrations of Chinese immigrants. In Singapore, by the 1840s, there were 10,000 Chinese who were members of these societies from a total Chinese population of 20,000.⁹¹ Such a high membership could be due to the aggressive nature of secret society’s recruitment. It was reported that membership into these societies was close to mandatory for newly arrived Chinese migrants. Chinese immigrants who refused to join such societies would be persecuted.⁹²

By the middle of the nineteenth century, Chinese secret societies were divided into two large factions. One was the Ghee Hin group whose members were predominantly Cantonese but became increasingly dominated by Hakkas. The other was the Hai San group which was dominated by the Cantonese. During the period 1845–1860, the Hai San was absorbed into the Toh Peh Kong (Tokong) Society which assumed various names in the settlements and the Malay States. In Singapore, the Toh Peh Kong assumed the name of Ghee Hock, rivalling the Ghee Hin. In Larut, Perak, the Toh Peh Kong took the name of Hai San. In the rest of the Malay States, the Toh Peh Kong was known as the Sa Tiam Hui or Three Dot Society.⁹³ By the mid-nineteenth century, rivalry between Chinese secret societies often turned to civil disobedience and lawlessness. There were series of riots and civil disorders, especially in Penang and Singapore, and this rivalry between the secret societies would spill over to the Malay States.

Of greater relevance is the existence of a strong state-business nexus built around the Chinese Kongsis and the British administration. Trocki (1990) describes the existence of an alliance between Chinese taukehs and colonialists “in Riau, Singapore and Johor between 1740 and 1880” and was repeated “with local variation throughout the Malay world during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries”.⁹⁴ He goes on to say that Chinese-British linkages became more pronounced in the later stages of colonisation after Chinese taukehs became an integral part of Chinese secret societies. Trocki (1990) also describes that these taukehs used their position in secret societies to “establish links with colonial powers” and “establish political and military relations with Europeans which offered them status within the colonial power structure”.⁹⁵

Trocki’s (1990) assessment supports Comber’s (1959) description of the close relationship between Chinese Kapitan and the British authorities.⁹⁶ Comber (1959) puts it that “it was not long afterwards that the British authorities realised with something of a shock that the very headmen on whom they had been relying were none other than the secret society leaders themselves”.⁹⁷ Similarly, Wang (1979) confirms the existence of a close relationship between secret societies and the British administration, describing how secret societies like the Toa Peh Kong, which operated in Penang and Singapore, had “business dealings with Europeans and, among the Europeans, they counted friends and business partners”.⁹⁸

Indeed, these works confirm that the relationship between the British administration and Chinese secret societies was symbiotic. For the British administration, it needed to manage its relationship with Chinese taukehs and Chinese Kongsis for the purpose of economic production. For the Chinese taukehs collaboration with the British authority helped them “establish links with colonial powers and gain access to European capital”.⁹⁹ This symbiotic relationship helps explain why the British administration continued to tolerate Chinese secret societies despite the riotous nature of Chinese Kongsis. Such state–business relationships also explain the colonial administration’s willingness to collaborate with Chinese secret societies in Perak and Selangor in the years before the signing of the Pangkor Treaty despite the fact that the colonial administration had numerous run-ins with similar secret societies in the Straits Settlements. The following chapters will provide more examples of close state–Chinese business relationships that saw the incorporation of Chinese interests into the political economy of the Malay States which took the form of political appointment and the provisions of loans, grants and preferential treatment to Chinese tax farmers.

To sum up, nineteenth century Malaya saw many instances of close linkages between Chinese merchants, Chinese secret societies and British administrators. These linkages between British officials and Chinese taukehs and Kongsis became more pronounced after the 1850s. We turn now to the development in the Malay States and look at the key roles played by Chinese secret societies, Chinese taukehs, British officials and Malay rulers in the political and economic intrigues facing the Malay States after the 1850s.

Malay States: Political and Economic Flux and New Actors

The years between 1850 and 1874 saw the tin-bearing Malay States of Perak, Selangor and Sungei Ujong undergoing considerable political and economic changes brought about by huge increase in tin production and large influx of capital and labour. The period also saw evident changes in the relationship between Malay rulers, British administrators and the Chinese capitalist class. This period would see the Straits authority taking on a more active role in managing the expectations of Malaya’s old actors (Malays) and new actors (Chinese). We turn now to two Malay States that were subjected to intense political and economic challenges – the rich tin-bearing states of Selangor and Perak.

Selangor and the Political and Economic Flux

Selangor opened its tin mines to foreign investment after a Malay chief, Raja Jumahat, introduced Chinese miners to the tin mines of Lukut in the 1840s. These early years saw Selangor’s development being heavily tied to capital from the Straits Settlements, specifically Malacca. Selangor’s Malay chiefs, for instance, became dependent on loans and advances from Straits capitalists which came in the form of money and supplies like opium and rice. In 1839, Raja Jumahat, the son-in-law of the Sultan of Selangor, obtained loans worth about $169,000 from Malaccan merchants which was used to secure against a prospective tin mining site.¹⁰⁰ In the 1840s, the Sultan of Selangor, Muhammad, borrowed money from three Chinese merchants and Messrs Neubronner & Co from Malacca for the purpose of tin production.¹⁰¹ In the 1850s, Raja Abdullah, the Sultan of Selangor’s son-in-law, borrowed $30,000 from two Malaccan Chinese to prospect for tin in Klang, Ampang and Kanching. The Sultan of Selangor, Sultan Abdul Samad, also collaborated with his financier, Chin Ah Chan, to prospect for tin mines in Ulu Selangor.¹⁰²

By the 1860s, British involvement in the Malay States took on a more assertive role, far removed from the quiet diplomacy employed in the earlier period. One example of renewed British involvement was the case of a missing Chinese junk boat from the Straits Settlments, Kim Seng Cheong. The owner of the boat, Ong Hong Buan, told Governor Anson in Singapore that the missing boat could be off the Selangor coast. Anson then sent a steamer Pluto to search for the missing boat. It turned out that the boat had been taken by Chinese pirates who sold the loot to shops in Selangor. The British authority accused Selangor of “sheltering” pirates and declared that the state had contravened the treaty entered between Selangor and the British authority. The Straits authority demanded that the Selangor government hand over to the Straits authority all pirates, robbers and any offenders related to the incident.¹⁰³ The demands however were rebuffed by Raja Mahdi, a Malay chief who, together with his men attacked a British official, Inspector Cox, who then left Selangor in the steamer Pluto for Penang. The attack on Inspector Cox saw the British sending two ships Rinaldo and Pluto to demand Selangor to abide by the agreed terms. In a show of British force, the Rinaldo shelled the Selangor fort and burned part of the town.

The shelling of the Selangor fort gave the British authority the bargaining power to exact more favourable terms from Selangor. The Straits Governor Anson then sent J. W. Birch and C. J. Irving, the Auditor General, to negotiate some terms with the Sultan of Selangor. The British officials made two demands on the Sultan. The first involved the handover of Raja Mahdi and his aide Mahmud, who were responsible for the attack on Inspector Cox. Second, the British demanded that the Sultan install a Malay chief that the British would find easy to work with. In his demands, J. W. Birch requested that the Sultan “place some person in the office of Governor of Chief over the country about the Salangore River, whom this country can trust to carry out the Treaty between this Government and that of Your Highness”.¹⁰⁴ Birch especially wanted the Sultan of Selangor to appoint Tengku Kudin (Tunku Dziauddin), the viceroy of Selangor to take charge of the Selangor coast to replace Raja Mahdi.¹⁰⁵ Both Birch and Irving had good impressions of Tengku Kudin and saw in him someone that the British could work closely with. Irving the Auditor General, for instance, had a good account of Tengku Kudin, saying that the latter would always “meet the views of the government”, had “European ideas about his government” and would “prove a good ruler and a good neighbour to the colony”.¹⁰⁶

In the coming days both Irving and Birch made demands on the Sultan that spoke of Britain’s growing hold on the affairs of the Malay States. Birch gave the Sultan of Selangor an ultimatum, when he sensed that the Sultan was hesitant in reprimanding Raja Mahdi and in appointing Tengku Kudin, saying that¹⁰⁷

[I] informed the Sultan that I required an answer in twenty-four hours, and should expect it to be sent to me before 5 pm the next day and that any neglect to comply with this demand…would be attended by serious consequences.¹⁰⁸

The above incidence demonstrates that the British East India Company’s relation with the Malay States was no longer based on the quiet diplomacy exercised in the early years. Birch’s “gun diplomacy” and confidence were unprecedented when compared with British past policy of “non-interference”.

The 1860s would increasingly see the Straits authority playing the role of mediator, managing the complex interactions and rivalry involving feuding Malay rulers and Chinese secret societies as these parties fought for control over resources. Feuding Malay rulers would align themselves with rivalling Chinese merchants and secret societies who would then provide Malay rulers with arms and finances in return for control of mining resources. A case in point is the rivalry between Raja Abdullah – Tengku Kudin and Raja Mahdi. In March 1866, Raja Abdullah of Selangor gave control of a revenue farm in Klang to a Straits syndicate co-owned by Tan Kim Cheng, the headman of the Ghee Hin secret society and W. H. Read, the Chairman of the Straits Settlement Chamber of Commerce, in exchange for a loan. The agreement was that, for a period of two years, the Tan–Read syndicate was given the right to receive a commission of 20 percent from the revenue collected.¹⁰⁹ The granting of the farm to the Read-Tan syndicate however was disputed by another Malay chief, Raja Mahdi. The dispute led to the formation of two warring factions involving the Malay chiefs who were each aligned to rivalling Chinese secret society; Raja Mahdi had the backing of a Chinese secret society, the Hai San and Tengku Kudin had the support of the Ghee Hin, whose headman Tan Kim Cheng was part of the Tan-Read syndicate. Both Kongsis promised to provide the Malay chiefs with funds, weapons and fighting men. The Straits government stepped in to offer support for Tengku Kudin after the latter convinced “the Straits authorities that his rule in Klang would encourage peaceful trade”.¹¹⁰ When dispute was resolved the Straits authority acknowledged Tengku Kudin as “viceroy” of Selangor.¹¹¹ The same scenario, in Selangor, was played out in another tin-bearing state, Perak, throughout the 1860s and 1870s, emphasising the fragility of the feudal order brought on by feuding Malay rulers.

Perak and Its Political and Economic Flux

By the late 1850s, Larut had become a thriving mining town and a site that saw control for political and economic resources involving Chinese secret societies and Malay feudal chiefs that would increasingly see the involvement of the Straits authority. Ngah Ibrahim, who succeeded his father, Long Jaafar, as the Mantri (Minister) of Larut, inherited not only Long Jaafar’s considerable wealth but also Chinese miners who were members of two competing secret societies, the Hai San and the Ghee Hin group, with both groups having close ties with rich Straits taukehs and Chinese community in Penang and Singapore.¹¹² These competing business interests between the Hai San and Ghee Hin put the feudal administration of Perak under severe strain. Keeping the peace was problematic because the Mantri of Larut had only 40 men to keep the order, hardly sufficient to contain a growing Chinese mining population.¹¹³

In the few years before the signing of the Pangkor Treaty, rivalry between the Chinese secret societies grew more intense. Both the Ghee Hin and Hai San had the backing of rich merchants from the Straits Settlements, who knew that victory would ensure control of tin mines and revenue farms. In 1861, a fight broke out between the “Five Districts” led by the Hai San and the “Four Districts” led by the Ghee Hin over the control of a watercourse. The 1861 clash sparked a series of fighting between the two sides throughout the 1860s and 1870s that destabilised Perak that would eventually see British involvement to settle the disputes. In the 1861 clash, the Ghee Hin sought British assistance that led to the Straits Governor Cavenagh demanding the Mantri of Larut, Ngah Ibrahim – who was sympathetic to the Hai San – to pay compensation to Ghee Hin for the loss of mining rights. Cavenagh further warned the Mantri that failure to comply would see British authority putting a blockade off the coast of Perak. Under pressure the Mantri agreed to pay the compensation.¹¹⁴

Besides the rivalling secret societies, the Perak’s royal house was also mired in fights for power and control of lucrative tin resources. The rivalry between Perak’s Malay chiefs saw them courting Chinese secret societies and the Straits government for support. The first faction was led by Raja Abdullah and Raja Yusuf who wanted to take control of Perak’s throne. The second faction was led by Raja Ismail, who was third in line but who was made the Sultan of Perak by Malay chiefs. The first faction led by Abdullah aligned themselves with the Ghee Hin group who met Tan Kim Cheng, the Singapore merchant and a Ghee Hin headman, to ask for finance and fighting men. In return for the Ghee Hin support, Abdullah promised Kim Cheng that he would grant him rights to Larut’s tax farms.¹¹⁵ Kim Cheng exacted further terms to the deal asking Abdullah for five-elevenths of all duties between Telok Serah and Krian for the next decade should Abdullah be successful in taking the Perak throne.¹¹⁶ The second faction was led by Raja Ismail and Ngah Ibrahim, the Mantri of Larut. Both men allied with the Hai San who agreed to supply fighting men and two steamships to act as blockade in the event of a war.¹¹⁷

With the different royal factions aligning with two feuding Chinese secret societies, Perak was embroiled in serious civil war. The standoff between the Malay rulers saw Straits’ merchants urging the Straits’ authority to intervene in Perak affairs. British intervention in Perak gained momentum after Raja Abdullah travelled to Singapore in 1873 to ask Governor Andrew Clarke for help to put an end to Perak’s civil war and to support his bid for the Perak throne.¹¹⁸ In exchange, Abdullah agreed for Perak to be “under the sheltering protection of the English flag” and wanted Britain to “show us a good system of government” that would bring more prosperity to Perak.¹¹⁹ The Straits government took up Abdullah’s request which led to the Pangkor Agreement of 1874.

Indeed, the cases involving Selangor and Perak demonstrate the firming of British management in the affairs of the Malay States. Consistent with the path-dependent argument, the 1860s and 1870s would see increasing calls for British management of the Malay States. We turn to this next.

Increasing Expectations, Increasing Returns

The discovery of large tin deposits radically changed the complexion of the political economy of the Malay States. Introduction of capitalism to a feudal economy – driven by resources and capital from thriving straits settlements – saw turbulence within the Malay royal house, with Malay rulers competing for greater control of resources. The 1860s particularly saw intense competition between Malay rulers as they collaborated with an increasingly important Chinese entrepreneurial class in a bid to control lucrative resources.

The political and economic flux in the Malay States inadvertently saw increased British presence in managing the expectations of Malaya’s different actors, old and new. In the 1860s, calls for the Straits authority to take a more aggressive stance with regard to the Malay States became louder. Demand for British intervention in the Malay States especially came from the Straits Settlements’ business community, the very community that had contributed in no small ways to the political and economic flux over the years. With increasingly inability of the Malay feudal regime to cope with the political and economic flux, the calls from the Straits business community grew louder. They demanded for British intervention and possible annexation of the Malay States.¹²⁰ The Penang Gazette, in 1870, carried a report that mirrored this view. The paper made an open challenge to the British authority to intervene in the Malay States for commercial ends. The article asked that Britain revised its relationship with the Malay States as existing treaties entered into 30 or 40 years ago were now useless saying that

In plain words these states must be brought under European control. If England fears to assume the responsibility of doing so then let the Dutch, or any other nation that wishes for the extension of colonial territory, come to the front.¹²¹

In 1873, 243 Chinese traders from Penang, Singapore and Malacca drew up a petition stating that as “subjects of Our Most Gracious Majesty”, they needed to be protected in the Malay States. The traders called for Britain’s “moral intervention and a determined attitude in respect of the affairs of territories now in a state of anarchy”.¹²² At around the time a council member in the Straits Settlement Legislative Council added to the call for British intervention. He specifically asked for the need to protect Chinese concerns in the Malay States pointing out that

[T]o open up that country you must introduce the Chinese element and that Malay States, with a large Chinese population must be under the influence of the British flag.¹²³

The petition, including the growing demands from the Straits Chinese traders, the infighting involving Malay aristocrats over control of resources, the involvement of Chinese secret societies in the affairs involving the Malay royal houses and the increasing dependence of the Malay States on capital and other resources from the Straits Settlements, signalled a changed in the political and economic dynamics of the Malay States. It also spelt an increasingly plural nature of the society in these states. Evidently, the Chinese community had now become an important new actor in the political economy of the Malay States. The series of demands by the new actors for some form of British intervention led to the Pangkor Treaty in 1874, which marked British official rule in Perak and other Malay States.

Conclusion

This chapter describes the changing complexion of the political economy of the Malay States. In just about 50 years after the founding of the Straits Settlements, the British administration became inevitably drawn to the political economy of the Malay States. British involvement followed a path-dependent process. The various treaties entered between the Malay States and the Straits authority built up expectations on the part of both Malay and British actors that were reinforced over time. Timing and sequence are the other important considerations that accounted for the political economy of the Malay States and the coming of a plural polity. It must be said again that the political and economic changes in the Malay States coincided with a conjuncture of independent events. The end of Sino-British opium war in 1842, the consequent signing of treaty ports in China which provided a platform for large Chinese migration in the 1840s, the discovery of large quantities of tin deposits in the Malay States of Perak and Selangor in the 1840s, the intense pressure faced by British tin miners in the 1840s to source for cheap tin ores, the thriving economies of the Straits Settlements of Singapore and Penang and the growing regional trade protection in Southeast Asia that forced Straits traders to look for new markets, and Britain’s Peel Reform Act that reduced tariff on imported tin ores that eventually saw Malaya becoming the largest exporter of tin, all took place around the 1840s that brought about profound changes to the Malay States. These were independent events, but they came together in the 1840s that shaped the political economy of the Malay States.

Indeed, with foreign capital and labour entering the economy in an unprecedented way the nineteenth century saw the Malay States ushering a new era of capitalism, shedding off a feudal economy. If in the early nineteenth century, tin production in the Malay States was internally financed – from local capital that came mainly from Malay aristocrats – the large tin production and a thriving economy in the late nineteenth century saw the Malay States relying on external capital. The Malay States found ready capital in the newly established Straits Settlements, where investors were ever willing to provide to a frontier economy especially given rising protectionist trade in the region. Foreign labour and capital were also courted because Malay aristocrats were more comfortable with foreign capital and labour. To Malay aristocrats the Chinese were generally seen as “operating outside the system” and hence acceptable to the Malay kerajaan.¹²⁴ The freedom given to foreign capital by the kerajaan was unlike its treatment of the local rakyat, who was considered an insider, “whose accumulation of wealth was immediately conceptualised as a political move, and a threat”.¹²⁵

The coming years would see the British administration attempting to manage Malay expectations by working with existing Malay feudal arrangement, keeping Malay de jure power while employing British de facto rule. It would also see British incorporation of new actors, particularly Chinese for purpose of economic objectives that would give rise to the emergence of a new power centre. The long-term consequence is that British management of the expectations of new and old actors would see the formation of autonomous communities with exclusive sets of institutions and interests. We turn now to the start of British official rule in Malaya, the Pangkor Treaty of 1874.

Notes

Read Kennedy (1962, p. 13). Wilkinson also describes that there are two types of Malay government. The first type is that of Malacca and Johor. The second type is that of Acheen (Wilkinson, 1971, p. 142). See also Gullick (1981, p. 17).

The topography of the archipelago with dense tropical forest saw population concentrating along main rivers. Borders of states were defined by natural watersheds and frontier boundaries of states are undeveloped. Read for instance Trocki (2009).

Andaya and Andaya (2001) and Gullick (1958).

Hooker (2003).

Ahmat (1970) and Gullick (1958).

Gullick (1958) notes that the inability of the Sultans to obtain more than a small proportion of the total revenue of the states, especially of the taxes on tin, was the main factor which caused a dispersal of power from the central government of the state to the districts.

Hooker (2003) gives an interesting historical account of the Kingdom of Malacca and the Malay administrative structure. See pp. 58–70. Also refer to Andaya and Andaya (2001) and Gullick (1987) various pages on Malay administrative system.

For full description of debt bondage and corvee labour refer to Swettenham assessment in Gullick (1958, pp. 99–102).

Gullick (1958).

To know more about the land tenurial systems, its implementation in the different states and the juridical rights over such lands, Jomo (1986) gives a comprehensive account of pre-colonial Malay society. Read Jomo (1986, pp. 11–13).

Read Wong (1975, pp. 11–12). Jomo (1986) provides an extensive description of the land tenurial system, pp. 10–13.

The people occupied and cultivated such lands as they chose, and paid nothing for them, but the authorities, Sultan, State Officer, local headman, or anak Raja, whoever had the power and might, dispossessed the occupants at pleasure, or helped themselves to any produce that they thought worth having whenever they felt able and inclined. See Wong (1975, p. 18). The Malays possessed no proprietary rights over the land, that no land can be said descended to them from their forefather, and that, while the rulers never admitted any claim to the land on the part of the people the land belonged to the Kerajaan. Taken from Lim (1976, p. 28).

Read Jomo (1986) where he discusses descriptions by various authors on Malay land code where generally lands worked on were liable to an exaction of one-tenth of the produce of the land.

Wilkinson (1971, pp. 133–8).

Malay coinage made of tin was used before the start of Portuguese rule in 1511. During Dutch rule in Malacca tin exports from Malacca was about 6,000 pikuls (350 tonnes). Between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Dutch tried to control tin trade in the Malay States by having treaties with local Malay Chiefs in Perak, Selangor, Sungei Ujong and Kedah. See Fermor (1939) and Yip (1969, p. 56).

Yip (1969, p. 56).

Sadka (1968, p. 18).

Wong (1965, p. 17).

See Sadka (1968, p. 18) and Jackson (1961, p. 30).

Yip (1969, p. 58).

Wong (1965, p. 28).

Wray (1894, p. 9).

Read Jomo (1986) where he discusses descriptions by various authors on Malay land code where generally lands worked on were liable to an exaction of one-tenth of the produce of the land.

Corvee labour is an obligatory labour imposed by the ruling chides on the rakyat.

Maxwell (1884) was scathing in his remarks of the abusive feudal system. The only respite is that the Malay chiefs were restrained from excessive abuse because the patronage system meant that excessive oppression would result in the cultivator to abandon his land and emigrate, depriving Malay chiefs of followers. In Maxwell (1884, p. 108). Also read Roff (1967, p. 11).

The story of the voyage of Abdullah bin Abdul Kadir Munsyi, Kesah Pelayaran Abdullah, Translated by A.E. Cooper, Singapore 1949 (Abdullah, 1949).

Furnivall (1948).

Almond (1969).

Taken from Alatas (1977, p. 46).

Windstedt (1923, p. 53).

Windstedt (1923, 1948).

Read Tarling (1969, p. 11) and Windstedt (1948, p. 54) where he describes how Francis Light did not disclose to the East India Company, Kedah’s intention for protection against Siamese rule as it would jeopardise the leasing of Penang, as the British made clear that they did not want to enter into agreement that would lead to war.

In the early years, Raffles earmarked the islands of Bangka and Bintan. He however aborted his initial plans as these islands were under the Dutch influence.

Various sources Andaya and Andaya (2001), Cowan (1961), Gullick (1958) and Windstedt (1948).

Read Purcell (1965, p. 67), Kennedy (1962, p. 94) and also Windstedt (1948) account of how Raffles moved fast in preventing the Dutch any claim to the island by installing quickly a pretender to the Johor Sultanate, Hussain, to be made the Sultan of Singapore, by passing the Sultan of Johor–Riau island, who were then under Dutch surveillance, pp. 58–59. Be that as it may, pension payment to Sultan Hussain and Temenggong Abdul Rahman which was promised by the East India Company were made good only during their lifetime as they pensions for which they had ceded died with them (Wilkinson, 1971, p. 72).

Sir Stamford Raffles to Colonel Addenbrooke, 10 June 1819 in Buckley (1902, p. 5).

Malacca was initially under Dutch control in the sixteenth century but the result of Napoleonic war and French control of Holland prompted the issuance of the “Kew Letters”, where Malacca was placed under a joint Anglo-Dutch administration in 1795. Dutch regained control of Malacca in 1818 after the end of the French war in accordance with the Convention of London. Dutch rule however, was short lived as six years later Malacca was handed to Britain after the Anglo-Dutch Treaty of 1824. Read Kennedy (1962, pp. 84–86).

There are numerous works that would attest to the notion that Southeast Asia was not defined along the notion of the nation state before the advent of colonialism. Perhaps one of the recent works that depicts the porous nature of southeast region read works by Trocki (2009), Amarjit (2009), Wong (2007b) and Trocki (1990).

Cowan (1961, p. 9).

Cowan (1961, p. 17).

Buckley (1902, p. 756).

Cited from Cowan (1961, p. 18).

In fact, the Burney Treaty was not strictly adhered to by Chao P’aya that in 1826 British Lieutenant James Low gave the Perak ruler the assurance of a British protection and not to send the bunga mas (tribute) to the king of Siam. Read Kennedy (1962, pp. 114–15).

Andaya and Andaya (2001, p. 121).

Cowan (1961, p. 17). Read also Wong (2007b) and An (2010) which give a good account of the level of trade relations that existed between Penang, Kedah and Perak.

Kennedy (1962, p. 118).

Kennedy (1962, p. 118).

Read Mills (1960).

Mills (1960).

Mills (1960, p. 177).

At the time, the Terengganu’s royal house was facing internal power struggle which – under the Burney Treaty – gave the Siamese government a convenient reason to interfere. In the months that followed, Siamese battleship and boats lined coast of Terengganu. See Kennedy (1962, p. 121).

Kennedy (1962, p. 121).

Mills (1960, p. 184).

At one time, Thomas Bradell who was the Straits’ Attorney General acted as Johor state legal adviser Sadka (1968, p. 60) and Heussler (1981, p. 198).

Gov. Straits to Sec. State, 10 February 1866, in CO 273/17.

Refer to Governor to secretariat of state 18 May 1878, 273/93 and Swettenham’s memorandum on Johor 5 July 1878, 273/94. Also cited in Huessler (1981) British Rule in Malaya p. 197.

See Trocki (1976).

The document called Surat sungei or river document allowed for farms to be set up along agreed rivers. The Kangchu agreement reflects the level of sophistication of the Johor government and the Straits government’s influence in the affairs of Johor. The Kangchu agreement gave the Johor government a reputation of progress. The agreement was innovative and provided for a more systematic and regular administration. See Trocki (1976). Also Sadka (1968, p. 69).

CO 273/15 – Petition from the Chinese traders in Gambier and Pepper to governor cavenagh, 3 October 1864.

Sadka (1968, p. 27).

Charles Irving memorandum relative to the affairs of Perak, 24 July 1872, C.1111, enclosure 6 in no.52, Clarke to Kimberley, 24 February 1874 cited in Sadka (1968, p. 27).

Before the end of the British monopoly on China’s trade in 1833, the Straits Settlements benefitted greatly from such monopoly as goods from and bound for China would usually be transhipped to the Straits Settlements before being distributed to Southeast Asia, India and Europe.

Read Cowan (1961, pp. 20–23).

This preferential trading practice worked because by the second half of the nineteenth century the Dutch East India Company managed to entice local chiefs of islands in the archipelago to conduct external trade through the Nedelandsche Handelmaatschapij. The policy also led to these islands to eventually secure treaties with the Dutch government where they agreed to come under Dutch control. Read Cowan (1961, pp. 20–23). In fact, between 1843 and 1863 52 treaties were concluded with states in Borneo, the Celebes and the other islands eastwards of the Malay Penininsula that fell under Dutch influence.

Read Cowan (1961). The coast of Cochin China between 103 and 106 was subjected to a blockade which was extended to the whole of Cochin China and Cambodia in 1867. This is the proclamation of the governor of Cochin, China in CO 273/4 and CO 273/11.

In the late 1930s and 1940s, tin plate manufacturers in Britain were facing growing erosion of profit margin after Cornish smelters, a primary source for British tin plate manufacturers, demanded a high price for the metal. Given the competition, British tin plate manufacturers demanded the removal or reduction on duty on foreign tin from the British authority. This was accepted and duty on tin was reduced in 1835. Soon after, there was another demand by British manufacturers to reduce duty on foreign tin. This was duly granted in 1842 under the Peel’s Tariff Reform. In August 1853, duties on foreign tin were repealed altogether; this time to repeal the duty on foreign tin (Wong, 1965, p. 9).

Given the close proximity to the Straits Settlements, it was inevitable that access to capital and labour could only be provided by Chinese and European merchants from the Straits (Gullick, 1958).

The elimination of taxes and the availability of high tin deposits in the Malay States encouraged new capital injection to tin production in the Malay States and helped improve the quality of tin. Before 1850s, tin from the Malay States contained high amount of impurities and could not compete with Bangka Tin which enjoyed greater demand in the European markets due to its fine quality. The Malay States and Straits tin only managed to gain a foothold in the European in the 1860s – a period of mass tin production in the Malay States (Wong, 1965, p. 22).

In Wong (1965, p. 29).

Straits Tin was “always considered as of doubtful quality than the Banka tin”. In fact, Chinese tin manufacturers applied some form of sulphur to give Straits tin that lustre associated with Bangka tin and passed it off as “Banca” tin and not “ Straits” tin refer to Wong (1965, pp. 14–15).

Singapore Free Press, 1847 in Buckley (1902, pp. 462–3).

Wong (1965, p. 21).

Khoo (1972, p. 51).

Chinese labour migrants were initially concentrated in the Straits Settlements. Chinese migration into the Malay Peninsula started in a big way after the founding of Singapore, Malacca and Penang, with the first big ship from Amoy, China in 1823 carrying large number of Chinese immigrants. Read Purcell (1967).

Notices of Singapore, Journal of the Indian Archipelago, 1854, vol. vii, p. 106 cited in Purcell (1948, p. 73).

Khoo (1981).

See Blythe (1947, p. 65).

John Anderson, Political and Commercial Considerations relative to the Malayan Peninsula and the British Settlements in the Straits of Malacca. Prince of Wales, Island (1824, p. 202), cited from Purcell (1948, p. 102).

A “taukeh” is a wealthy Chinese businessman.

Yip (1969, p. 58).

Purcell (1967, p. 102). And to indicate the scale of Chinese migration, in the Malay States total migrant population (Chinese population) in the 1830s may have ranged between 15,000 and 20,000 – about a fifth of the population. But by the 1850s Yip (1969) states that there was a dramatic rise in the Chinese population see Yip (1969, p. 29) and Mills (1960).

The Hung League was formed in 1674 in the Southern provinces of China of Fukien and Kwantung. The league was behind rebellions in Formosa (present day Taiwan) in 1787, in Kiangsi in 1814 and at Canton in 1817. It was involved in the Tai Ping rebellion of 1853–1854 where the group held Shanghai for 15 months. There is the possibility that end of the Tai Ping rebellion could also prompt some members of the Hung to move to Singapore and set up a regional hub. See Purcell (1967, p. 155) and see Freedman (1960, pp. 25–48).

Freedman (1960, p. 30).

Trocki (1990, p. 11).

Newbold (1841, p. 130).

Wang (1979, p. 103).

Wang (1979, p. 103).

In 1799 a secret society defied local administration and resulted in a riot which was eventually quelled down by the British authority.

Abdullah Munsyi was brought in by a member of the triad, a Malaccan Chinese, in part to convince Abdullah of the existence of such a triad and to convey to him that the triad in Singapore was given instruction by similar triads in Penang and Malacca to attack Singapore.

Purcell provides an extensive description of the prevalence of Chinese secret societies in the nineteenth century. Read Purcell (1967, p. 157).

Freedman (1960, p. 30).

It was natural for new Chinese immigrants or the “Sin-Khehs” to gravitate towards the secret societies. Most of the workers were brought in by Straits merchants who had links with brokers in mainland China and secret societies. The Sin-Khehs were then recruited as members of Secret Society or Kongsi based on his place of origin in China. Read Blythe (1947, p. 72), also Sadka (1968, p. 25).

Purcell (1948, p. 157).

Trocki (1990, p. 45).

Trocki (1990, p. 46).

The Kapitan system was a Dutch and Malay practice, where a leader was appointed from among each migrant community. The Kapitan acted as a liaison officer between his community and the administration and acted as an authority should there be breaches of the peace and petty crimes committed by their community. In the nineteenth century, most Chinese Kapitans were wealthy Chinese businessmen with mining interests and headed Chinese secret society. See Tregonning (1965, pp. 80, 105).

Comber (1959, p. 65) and also Wong (1960, pp. 56–27).

See Khoo (1972, p. 113). It is also cited in Wang (1979, p. 10).

Trocki (1990, p. 46).

Memorandum of Lukut Grant, 17 January 1839, CO 273/93.

Wong (1965, p. 22).

References to advances between the Sultan and Chin Ah Yam are in the Selangor Secretariat Papers Sel/Sec 426/1865 cited in Sadka (1968, p. 31).

Article IV of the Selangor and Straits Government Treaty of 1825 says that His Majesty the King of Salangore engages not to permit any pirates to resort to any part of his territory; and in Article V, the King of Salangore engages to seize and return to Pulo Penang any offenders, such as pirates, robbers, murderers and others, who may escape to Salangore. In 1872 [C.466] Papers (with a map) relating to recent proceedings at Salangore consequent upon the seizure by pirates of a junk owned by Chinese merchants of Penang; and the murder of the passengers and crew. pp. 19–20.

1872 [C.466] Papers (with a map) relating to recent proceedings at Salangore consequent upon the seizure by pirates of a junk owned by Chinese merchants of Penang; and the murder of the passengers and crew, Enclosure 1 in No.6, p. 20. See also Cowan (1961, pp. 86–90).

1872 [C.466] Papers (with a map) relating to recent proceedings at Salangore consequent upon the seizure by pirates of a junk owned by Chinese merchants of Penang; and the murder of the passengers and crew. p. 22.

1872 [C.466] Papers (with a map) relating to recent proceedings at Salangore consequent upon the seizure by pirates of a junk owned by Chinese merchants of Penang; and the murder of the passengers and crew. p. 13.

In 1872 [C.466] Papers (with a map) relating to recent proceedings at Salangore consequent upon the seizure by pirates of a junk owned by Chinese merchants of Penang; and the murder of the passengers and crew. p. 22.

1872 [C.466] Papers (with a map) relating to recent proceedings at Salangore consequent upon the seizure by pirates of a junk owned by Chinese merchants of Penang; and the murder of the passengers and crew. p 22.

Even though the amount collected was not significant, it was reported that the syndicate in reality had a bigger hold on economic opportunities in Klang Straits Settlement Record, SSR, F7, Sultan Abdul Samad to Cavenagh, 6 March 1866, Raja Abdullah to Cavenagh, 6 March 1866.

Andaya and Andaya (2001, p. 148).

Andaya and Andaya (2001, p. 148). Besides Tan Kim Cheng, another prominent Ghee Hin member was Yap Teck Loy, or better known as Yap Ah Loy. Yap, who had control of the Kah Yeng Chew, would later become Selangor’s largest tin-mine operator in the Ampang district and would also be appointed as a member of the Selangor State Council during British rule in Selangor.

Trocki (1990, p. 45).

Read Jackson (1961, p. 36). In 1872, given the severity of the condition in Perak, the mantra employed Captain Speedy as a Chief of Police for the Mantri.

Governor Cavenagh from the Straits took part in the negotiations and demanded the Mantri of Larut compensation amounting to 17,000 to Ghee Hin, failing which he would impose a blockade of the Perak coast.

Raja Abdullah also promised Ghee Hin lease of the Larut mines and to pay the secret society half of Ghee Hin’s expenses incurred during the fight. Statement of the Master, S.S. Fair Malacca, 13 December 1872; Governor of Straits to Sec. State, 24 July 1873 CO 273/68 cited in Cowan (1961, p. 114).

Parkinson (1960, p. 121).

Cowan (1961, p. 114).

Kennedy (1962, pp. 151–4).

Raja Abdullah to Clarke, 30 December 1873, C.1111, enclosure 12 in no. 39, Clarke to Kimberley, 26 January 1874 cited in Sadka (1968, p. 54).

Straits Observer (1869).

The Pinang Gazette dated 12 July 1871, cited from Cowan (1961, p. 127).

Petition of Chinese Traders in Singapore, Penang and Malacca, 28 March 1873, C1111, enclosure in no.12, Ord to Kimberley, 10 July 1873 cited in Sadka (1954, p. 45).

Speech by W.R. Scott in Proceedings of the Legislative Council, 15 September 1874, C.1111, enclosure in no.72, Clarke to Carnarvon, 5 November 1874 cited in Sadka (1968, p. 50).

Milner (2011, p. 72).

Milner (2011, p. 72).

Appendix

Table 2.1 Amount of Tin Imported from the Malay Peninsula into the Straits Settlements, 1844–1873 (in Tons)

| Singapore | Malacca | Penang | Total
1844 | 269 | 429 | 173 | 871
1845 | 379 | 1170 | 0.2 | 1,549.2
1846 | 261 | 597 | 224 | 1,082
1847 | 264 | 634 | 183 | 1,081
1848 | 590 | 544 | 230 | 1,364
1849 | 386 | 554 | 245 | 1,185
1850 | 343 | 760 | 179 | 1,282
1851 | 552 | 871 | 182 | 1,605
1852 | 505 | 718 | 233 | 1,456
1853 | 486 | 629 | 210 | 1,325
1854 | 604 | 498 | 230 | 1,332
1855 | 505 | 416 | 351 | 1,272
1856 | 536 | 439 | 289 | 1,264
1857 | 520 | 371 | 167 | 1,058
1858 | 464 | 670 | 485 | 1,619
1859 | Na | Na | Na | Na
1860 | Na | Na | Na | Na
1861 | Na | Na | Na | Na
1862 | Na | Na | Na | Na
1863 | 494 | 690 | 647 | 1,831
1864 | 524 | 700 | 744 | 1,968
1865 | 475 | 1,169 | 486 | 2,130
1866 | 405 | 1,320 | 376 | 2,101
1867 | Na | Na | Na | 2,030
1868 | 515 | 1,261 | 2,321 | 4,097
1869 | 517 | 2,458 | 1,650 | 4,625
1870 | 511 | 1,807 | 2,321 | 4,639
1871 | 686 | 1,625 | 2,402 | 4,713
1872 | 530 | 1,465 | 1,653 | 3,648
1873 | 575 | 1,344 | 416 | 2,335

Source: Taken from the Straits Settlements Commerce and Shipping 1844–1858 and the Annual Trade Returns Straits Settlements 1867–1873. Cited in Wong (1965, p. 12).

Table 2.2 Tin Exports from the Straits Settlements, 1844–1873 (Figures in Tons)

Year | Europe | United States | India | China | Other Countries | Total Exported
1844–1848 | 4,099 | 1,072 | 4,824 | 1,255 | 978 | 12,228
1849–1853 | 8,124 | 3,486 | 5,081 | 1,044 | 554 | 18,289
1854–1858 | 8,563 | 4,714 | 1,766 | 2,734 | 973 | 18,750
1859–1863 | Data not available
1864–1868 | 21,817 | 6,707 | 2,820 | 7,675 | 574 | 39,593
1869–1873 | 21,884 | 13,907 | 4,441 | 9,282 | 830 | 50,344

Source: Taken from the Straits Settlements Commerce and Shipping 1844–1857 and the Annual Trade Returns Straits Settlements 1867–1874. Cited in Wong (1965, p. 12).

3 The Pangkor Agreement and the Start of British Residential System

DOI: 10.4324/9781003320548-3

The signing of the landmark Pangkor Treaty of 1874 came on the heels of a build-up of events that pointed to eventual British intervention in the Malay States. Political and economic flux experienced by the Malay States forced Malay rulers to increasingly look upon the Straits administration for solutions. The pressures from the Straits business community for the Straits government to assist in safeguarding their business exposure also led to British renewed interest in the Malay States. British appetite for intervention was also boosted after the administration of the Straits Settlements was transferred from the East India Company in Calcutta to London that made for a different communication.¹ This change would see added push by the Straits government after a report by the Anson committee in 1871 that warned that the instability in the Malay States could exact a huge cost to the Straits administration and Straits’economic interest.²

Given the spate of development in the Malay States, it is no surprise that the Colonial Office gave its endorsement to the Straits Governor to look into possible intervention. In March 1873, the Colonial Office State Secretary Kimberley wrote to Governor Ord “to put a stop” to disturbances involving Chinese secret societies in Perak and hinted on the inevitability of intervention when he added that the “difficulty is how to do anything without direct interference with Perak, which is very undesirable”.³ British motivation to intervene quickened after the appointment of a new Straits Governor, Andrew Clarke, in late 1873, who was instructed by the Colonial Office to look into the problems of the Malay States.⁴ Clarke took the despatch as a carte blanche and made proactive steps to intervene in Perak. In trying to quell the dispute in Perak, in November 1873, Clarke sent an officer, Mr. W.A. Pickering to Penang to discuss with leaders of two Chinese secret societies, the Ghee Hin and the Hai San to allow for British mediation to the two warring secret societies. When both secret societies agreed, Andrew Clarke then approached Perak’s feuding Malay chiefs. After the Malay Chiefs agreed to negotiate, a ceasefire was called and a conference in Pangkor Island was scheduled on 14 January 1874.⁵

The Pangkor Treaty 1874

The Pangkor Treaty is symbolic in the sense that it exhibited Malaya’s new power configurations that now involved three significant players – the old actors (the Malays) and the new actors, British as well as Chinese. Under the Pangkor Engagement, the Sultan would assume de jure power while the de facto power lay with the British. In the Pangkor Agreement, the Sultan would have to receive a British Resident who would take charge of all affairs of state, and whose advice would be asked for and acted upon in all matters except those touching on Malay religion and customs. The Resident would implement a taxation system and supervise on matters of revenue collection and state expenditure.⁶ The Pangkor Treaty also had a separate Chinese agreement, the purpose of which was to bring peace to feuding Chinese secret societies. The two Chinese secret societies, the Ghee Hin and the Hai San, must agree to end their feuds, failing which they would incur a fine of 50,000 dollars. The mines would be equally distributed among them and there was to be a decommissioning of arms supervised by members of the two secret societies and British officials.⁷

After Perak, British control over the other Malay States followed in quick succession; Selangor in 1874, Sungei Ujong (Negeri Sembilan) in 1885 and Pahang much later in 1895.⁸ The circumstances that led to British intervention in these states were similar to those of Perak. As in the case of Perak, British intervention in the tin-bearing states of Selangor and Sungei Ujong came at the tail-end of a series of political, economic and social changes that put stress on Malay feudal administrative system. British intervention in these states came under similar train of processes like Perak: the discovery of large mineral resources; the movement of a large influx of mainly Chinese capital and labour into the Malay States; the establishment of new state-business linkages between Chinese entrepreneurs from the Straits and Malay rulers; the feuding among Malay rulers over resources and the alignment of Chinese business interests with different Malay factions that ultimately put pressure on the Malay traditional administrative system that required eventual British intervention.

British administration in the Malay States of Selangor, Perak, Sungei Ujong and Pahang was also largely similar, involving the introduction of a British Residence, a civil service and the introduction of a new taxation system. In the coming years, the states of Perlis, Kedah, Terengganu, Kelantan and Johor would also come under some form of British protection. Before discussing British policies in the Malay States, it is best that we briefly provide the economic changes in the Malay States during the British administration. This is for the purpose of understanding the changing relationship between Malaya’s economic agents/actors and the state and highlighting the importance of timing and sequence to help us appreciate the formation of expectations of Malaya’s key actors.

Malaya’s Economy, 1870–c. 1930

The Malayan economy in the period 1870–1930 saw two types of economic production. In the nineteenth century, the Malay States economy was pre-modern and this involved traditional mining production, trading of forest products, and revenues from opium and gambling receipts. The second half of the nineteenth century saw the Malay States enjoying rapid economic growth with tin-bearing states like Perak, Selangor and Negeri Sembilan benefiting greatly from the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 and their closer trade ties with the Straits Settlements. The Pangkor Agreement and British rule also encouraged further trade links between the Malay States and the Straits Settlements. For the Straits Settlements, British rule in the Malay States boosted their position as transhipment hubs as they became important conduits for the exports of major produce like tin, rubber and agricultural products from the Malay hinterland. By 1900, Straits Settlements’ trade links with the Malay States outstripped their trade with the Dutch East Indies. The Malayan economy also enjoyed consistent improvement in its terms of trade in the period 1870–1920 (see Figure 3.1).⁹

Figure 3.1 Malaysia Terms of Trade (Commodity and Income) between 1870 and 1915.

Source: Drabble (2000), calculated from the Straits Settlement Blue Books, various years; Tables.

Towards the close of the nineteenth century, Malaya’s traditional economy made way for modern economic production. The early twentieth century saw Malaya doing away with opium and gambling tax farms which, for a long time, were major revenue drivers for the colonial economy, and incorporating a modern economy that involved large-scale mining, rubber production and the introduction of large-scale agricultural plantations. In the twentieth century, coal, tin and rubber became the main bulk of Malaya’s trade (see Tables 3.1 and 3.2).¹⁰

The changed economic structure altered the make-up of Malaya’s commercial enterprises.¹¹ In the twentieth century, British administration relied less on Chinese capital. Chinese’s near dominance of the economy of the Malay States was increasingly challenged by European business interests, which began to take a firmer footing in mining, rubber and shipping business.¹² The diminished role of Chinese business in Malaya was a result of two factors. First, the need to reduce costs of production drove the colonial government to call for more sophisticated economic production which proved advantageous to European business interest. Second, European businesses lobbied for better trade terms making the case that the British government was providing too much incentive for Chinese businesses.¹³

The new business landscape in the twentieth century proved difficult for Chinese businesses to compete. It was especially hard after the administration decided to abolish opium and gambling revenue farms – two businesses that Chinese had near monopoly of. It was also around this period that the colonial administration banned Chinese secret societies, under the Societies Ordinance in 1890, which clearly deprived Chinese businesses of organised cheap labour that had been a backbone of Chinese industry. The imposition of the Perak Mining Code in 1895 also gave European mining companies the competitive edge as the code called for more sophisticated mining technique.¹⁴ The depletion of surface tin deposits also made Chinese labour-intensive mining method uncompetitive. Chinese businesses did reinvent themselves by moving into modern economic activities like banking and finance but not many made a successful transition.

The favourable factors saw European and British companies breaking the Chinese preserve in mining and agricultural production. European business expanded along the mining product chain, moving into areas of smelting and transportation of tin ores. One successful European company was the Straits Trading Company, a British-German partnership. Established in 1887, the company set up centralised smelting facilities that effectively bypassed smaller scaled Chinese-owned smelters. The company’s control of Malaya’s tin market was also boosted after the British government granted it monopoly to export tin ores from Selangor and Sungei Ujong. The concession allowed the Straits Trading to become one of the largest operators of the tin trade, garnering 30–54 percent of the market.¹⁵ In 1890, another European enterprise, Straits Steamship Company embarked on an ambitious business strategy that attempted to control the entire mining production chain. The company not only took control of the shipment of tin ores, but also vertically integrated its operations with Straits Trading.¹⁶ European firms also moved into large-scale agricultural production. European companies capitalised on Perak government’s land banking rule in 1901. The State’s land banking favoured better capitalised British and European companies and led to the growth of large European rubber and other agricultural plantations in the twentieth century.¹⁷

It is apparent that the Malayan economy in the twentieth century was far removed from the feudal economy and driven largely by commodities like tin and rubber. Between 1870 and 1930, Malaya, on average, contributed to a third of the global tin output and, between 1900 and 1930, Malaya’s GDP per capita increased threefold (see Tables 3.3 and 3.4). Of greater relevance is that the twentieth century saw Britain’s reduced preference for Chinese business interests. This was in contrast to British policies in the nineteenth century that saw a strong State-Chinese business nexus. However, even when the twentieth century saw lesser need for Chinese capital, the twentieth century nevertheless continued to see the consolidation of an autonomous Chinese community. Two reasons can be given. First, British incorporation of Chinese interest in the political economy of the Malay States in the nineteenth century had created a path-dependent process that made it increasingly costly for the Chinese to unwind their stake in Malaya’s development process. Second, the colonial economy still needed cheap labour and capital which meant allowing Chinese community to self-rule so long as it ensured continued economic production. Given the economic imperatives, the British administration tolerated the growth of Chinese transnational politics in the twentieth century which, over time, contributed to the formation of an autonomous Chinese community with exclusive institutions. We turn now to understand the organisation that played a huge part in shaping British colonial policy in Malaya in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries – the Colonial Office.

The Colonial Office and the Early Years of British Rule

Understanding and appreciating British colonial policy will not be complete without a description of the Colonial Office. How did the Colonial Office view the affairs of the Straits Settlements and the Malay States? How did it operate and what influenced the Colonial Office policy decisions with regard to the Malay States?

The “Colonial Office” was an established institution only after 1812; before this date, Britain’s dealing with its overseas territories came under several organisations.¹⁸ The Office was headed by the Secretary of State, also called the Colonial Secretary. The Secretary of State was a political appointee and effectively acted as a minister in charge of Britain’s overseas territories and was answerable to the crown and parliament. He was aided by the Permanent Under-Secretary who was a bureaucrat. The Permanent Under-Secretary in turn was assisted by two Deputy Under-Secretaries of State.

Given the political nature of the appointment of the Colonial Secretary, the office of the Secretary of State suffered from frequent changes in government. Long periods in office were the exception, not the rule. The usual term in office was about two years. In 1855, the Colonial Office saw four Secretaries of State. Such a high turnover naturally meant that colonial policies were highly disposed to a short-term policy horizon.

The Colonial Office’s policies were centred on the following features. First, British colonial policies avoided as much as possible from taking unnecessary political risks. Second, any colonial ventures were pivoted on getting maximum economic returns and with as little costs as possible. As Lord Eggerton remarked, “whatever may have been the aspirations of Elizabethan adventures and statesman, [it] was first and foremost a business proposition”.¹⁹ Indeed, the British administration was cautious when it came to colonial expansion. The Colonial Office was “for the most part disinclined to advocate imperial expansion” and “this was as true under the Tory’s as under Liberal administration”.²⁰ Imperial expansion must be “costless, peaceful and free from any misadventure”²¹ because the use of troops for intervention would invite unnecessary attention from parliament, the British press and the British public. British official policy was “peace at any price and against colonial expansion”.²² It also did not help that the British bourgeoisie opposed the idea of colonial conquest for the obvious reason that conquest would unnecessarily raise the cost of production.²³

In the case of the Malay States and the Straits Settlements, many instances point to the colonial administration’s preoccupation with policies that exacted the least possible costs. British acquisitions of Singapore, Penang (both near-uninhabited islands) and Malacca, all came with minimum cost and no resistance.²⁴ The Naning War of 1831 which saw Britain spending £100,000 served only to remind the East India Company of the cost of intervention in the Malay States, so much so that the colonial administration did not show any indication of wanting direct intervention in the Malay States in the years before the Pangkor Treaty.²⁵ Even as late as 1868, a year after the Straits Settlements came under London’s administration, the Secretary of State, the Duke of Buckingham, gave instructions to Harry Ord, the first governor of the Straits Settlements, to stay away from intervening in the Malay States saying that,

… [I]t is generally undesirable that you should enter into formal negotiations with native powers, still less you should conclude any agreement with them.²⁶

Indeed, the Pangkor Treaty of 1874 was entered only because the benefits of intervention outweighed the costs. The Anson Report of 1871 suggested that British and Straits capital exposure in the Malay States warranted the need for more British control. British intervention in Perak and indeed in the other Malay States (Selangor, Negeri Sembilan, Pahang and later, Kedah, Kelantan, Terengganu, Johor and Perlis) came at little cost or no cost to the administration as British rule came with the approval of the Malay rulers.

To further highlight British preoccupation with costs, the Colonial Office continually warned British officials against making excessive administrative overtures that would be costly to the administration. In a letter dated 13 September 1875, days before the murder of Perak’s first resident J. W. Birch, Lord Carnarvon the Secretary of State warned William Jervois to be cautious and not make too radical a change in the Malay States saying that:

…[I] desire to see our present system something more consolidated, and the results of it somewhat more clearly ascertained and understood before we make the next move.²⁷

The murder of J. W. Birch served as a reminder of the costly overtures that the colonial administration could exact. Birch proposed that Perak fall under the direct jurisdiction of London which would effectively emasculate and nullify the role of Sultan Abdullah, the Malay ruler who signed the Pangkor Agreement. Birch’s abrasive manner to hurry a skewed agreement led to his murder by Malay aristocrats who were close aides to Sultan Abdullah. The murder of J. W. Birch and the consequent Perak unrest in 1875 cost some £70,000 and served to remind the administration of the high cost of colonial rule.²⁸ Soon after Birch murder, the Secretary of State warned William Jervois that British troop were allowed only as “punishment of outrage” and should not be used for “annexation or any other large political aims”.²⁹

Indeed, after the quelling of the Perak unrest, the colonial office constantly reminded Governors and officials on the need to avoid unnecessary costs. On the occasion of the formation of the Federated Malay States (FMS) in 1896, Joseph Chamberlain, the Secretary of State, reminded officials that:

[T]he growth of Federation may well be gradual and any attempt to prematurely hurry a closer union would …[i]nvite suspicion and mistrust.³⁰

Why was cost a main consideration of colonial policy in Malaya? One possible answer is that the Malay States did not figure as a strategic acquisition for the British administration. Indeed, the affairs of the Straits Settlements “were very small fry” for the Colonial Office and that issues pertaining to the Straits Settlements’ “petty neighbouring states [Malay States] still more so”.³¹ So “insignificant” was Malaya at the time that – among British officials – not much was known about the Malay States. Darwin (2010) classified the Straits Settlements and the Malay States as the last tier of British strategic concerns.³² To add, there was general ignorance of the geography of Malaya. One ex-British official, Cowan remarked there was “almost complete ignorance of the [geographical] position of the Malay States other than Johor”.³³ In fact, the Straits Settlements and the Malay States were not mapped until after William Jervois became Governor of the Straits in 1875. In 1863, Sir John Hay, in discussing the affairs of the Straits and the Malay States, described Terengganu as “the capital of Johore, the southern province of the Kingdom of Siam”.³⁴ Before the Pangkor Treaty, British officers – even those in the Straits Settlements – knew very little of the development in the Malay States and were dependent on pieces of information from Straits traders and the contact British officers had with Malay rulers from time to time. When the Secretary of State, Earl of Kimberly, was questioned about German interest in setting up a naval base in the State of Johore in 1870, he said that “that the first step is to ascertain distinctly where the Maharajah and his islands are”.³⁵ Before the report of the Anson Committee on Relations with Native States was published in 1871, the papers on Johor were the only ones concerning the internal affairs of a Malay State that had reached the Colonial Office.³⁶

Besides cost consideration, British colonial policy in Malaya also suffered from short-term policy horizons. British officials tended to adopt short-term horizon because of the nature of the colonial service. Generally, British officers usually spent no more than five years in any given postings. For Whitehall, a five-year tour of duty was long enough as it feared that officer’s greater attachment to an assigned place could lead to political complications and add to administrative costs. Such short-term stint meant that officers were more disposed to toe the line of previous policies and adopt measures that match Colonial Office’s expectations. Indeed, the career structures of British officers plus Whitehall’s priorities on having minimum political and financial costs made it difficult for British officers to look beyond the three or five years that they were in Malaya.

Britain’s short-term policy horizon in Malaya could also be due to the lack of talented pool of British officers. Malaya did not draw top British officers; it was not the preferred choice for talented British officers. For top British officers and would-be governors, “the [Straits Settlements] were seen as the end of the line, a place with no future”.³⁷ Also for most of British governors, Malaya was their last posting before retirement. And for some other officials, Malaya was another assignment, part of their tour of duty and a short-stop, at that. In fact, recruitment for the lower-ranked officers was done in an ad hoc manner and, as Huessler (1981) puts it “the new colonial government in Singapore was prone to slapdash methods, which allowed virtually anyone to land jobs that London wanted reserved for educated gentlemen”.³⁸ And until the last quarter of the nineteenth century, the majority of British officials came from a “mixed group in background, in character, and in personal relations with the colonial office” with little experience in colonial administration.³⁹

Finally, Britain’s short-term policy outlook could be the result of constant change in the British government and inevitable changes in the appointment of top officials in the Colonial Office. In nineteenth-century Britain, long terms in office were the exception, not the rule.⁴⁰ This continual change in the British government meant frequent changes to the Colonial Office’s Secretary of State who was a political appointee and the minister-in-charge of Britain’s overseas territories which would only translate to frequent changes in policies.⁴¹ Between 1867 and 1900 – which arguably was the most critical period of Malaya’s development – Malaya saw seven Governors which meant an average term of less than four years in office.⁴²

Taken together, British colonial policies were rational, had short-term policy horizon and riveted on keeping cost down. More importantly by focusing on short-term rational policy decisions, the British administration did not realise that over the long term such policies could trigger unintended political, social and economic consequences that would far exceed their short-term calculations. Unintended policy consequences have been a feature of British rule. As one author puts it “the imperial system that the Victorians made emerged by default not from design” and that “however clear-sighted the prophet, it would not have been easy to foresee the path followed by British expansion”.⁴³ We turn now to the early years of British rule and British engagement with Malaya’s old and new actors.

The Early Years after the Pangkor Treaty – British Administration and Malay Actors

The early years after the Pangkor Treaty saw the new administration attempting to retrench not only Malay de facto power but also Malay de jure power. The measures were meant to remove pre-existing feudal arrangements and achieve economic objectives with minimum costs. The attempt to retrench Malay de jure power, however, ended up with the colonial administration incurring unnecessary costs and forced the new administration to rethink its policies that inadvertently saw it preserving Malay de jure power. The less-than-full retrenchment of Malay power – removing Malay de facto power while keeping Malay de jure power – set off processes that with time saw improved Malay administrative and political capacities and created a Malay autonomous community with exclusive institutions.

The British inability to remove completely Malay power was due to policy missteps. To start, it did not help that the new British administration did not have a clear blueprint on how to administer the Malay States.⁴⁴ Also, early British officers wrestled with the idea on how best to engage the old actors which was made worse by the appointment of British officers who had no prior knowledge of the Malay States.⁴⁵ British officers’ unfamiliarity with Malaya was also not helped by the ambiguous nature of the Pangkor Agreement; an agreement that reflects inherent tussle between effecting British de facto rule and maintaining Malay de jure power. The treaty spelt out that the new government of the Malay States would be a “government by advice” which meant that the British Resident would play an administrative or executive role. But while the agreement stipulated that the Malay ruler would have to seek the advice of the British Resident, the Resident’s advice “….must be asked and acted upon on all questions other than those touching on Malay religion and custom”.⁴⁶ So while the treaty gave the impression that the Resident’s administrative power would far exceed that of the Malay ruler, reference made to the terms of reference of the Malay States – Malay, Religion and Monarchy – would provide enough impressions on the Malay Sultans that the terms of reference of the Malay States would remain intact.

The ambiguity between British de facto and Malay de jure power gave rise to a mismatch in expectations between British and Malay actors. For Perak’s Sultan Abdullah and the Malay Chiefs, the Agreement meant that Perak would only be provided with British advice and that existing feudal arrangement would be left intact. Abdullah and other Malay rulers did not realise that the Pangkor Treaty and the start of British administration would mean the beginning of a process that would spell the end of the Malay feudal arrangement. British officials however had different expectations. For them, the Pangkor Treaty meant the imposition of a new political and economic arrangement in place of the old. To British officials like Governor Jervois and Perak’s first Resident, J. W. Birch, the agreement was viewed as a carte blanche to introduce a new British system of administration.

The conduct of J. W. Birch demonstrates the extent of the mismatch in expectations. In his first few months as Resident, Birch introduced a new system of administration that aimed to completely remove Malay feudal practices.⁴⁷ State revenue and expenditure, for instance, were now to be handled by the British administration, erasing overnight Malay district chiefs’ long-standing revenue sources. Taxes and the use of river ways were also now administered by British-appointed officers and police force. Birch also introduced unified taxation for opium, spirits and gambling and implemented new custom duties on tin and other commodities.⁴⁸

Birch however did not take into view that the Malay rulers were still stuck on feudal arrangement; to force them to change overnight would be difficult. It did not help that Birch was reprimanding in his treatment of Sultan Abdullah, akin to that of “schoolmaster towards a delinquent boy”.⁴⁹ Birch’s no-nonsense manner towards Abdullah is reflected in his memo to Governor Jervois where he wrote

I see that nothing but decision is necessary with these people…and firmness…with Abdullah, one must be firm and even peremptory… but he will only be a puppet and, I believe, do all that one advises.⁵⁰

Birch’s approach obviously did not go well with Sultan Abdullah who thought that with the Pangkor Agreement, Birch would continue to take orders from him. At times, Abdullah retaliated against Birch’s new administrative rules and continued the previous practice of exacting revenue and taxes through his office.

Birch’s relationship with Malay ruling elites worsened with time. He remained resolute with his reform agenda and to bring about change in the shortest possible time, despite knowing the controversy he was creating.⁵¹ Birch’s next move at undoing Malay feudal arrangement, however, proved costly. The straw that broke the camel’s back, as far as Birch’s treatment of Malay rulers is concerned, was when he forced Sultan Abdullah to sign an agreement that would annex Perak and put the state under direct British rule, that is, not that of the Sultan.⁵² The annexation of Perak would mean that Perak would function as a British colony, similar to the Straits Settlements. Birch’s move irked Sultan Abdullah who knew that signing the new arrangement would mean an end not only to Malay de facto but also to Malay de jure rule. Abdullah, with several other Malay chiefs, plotted to assassinate Birch. Birch was murdered on 2 November 1875.

The Birch episode came at huge cost to the administration. To bring peace to Perak, some £71,074 was advanced by the British government to maintain British and Indian troops.⁵³ In the wake of Birch’s murder and the unrest in Perak, Lord Carnarvon reprimanded Governor Jervois for bypassing the Colonial Office. He wrote

…[I] am at a loss to understand how a careful and experienced observer should fail to recognise… the nature and extent of relations which the British residents had been permitted by her Majesty’s Government to hold with the native authorities….those relations had been violently interrupted…[and] the signal for resistance and attack was in opposition to the whole tenor of my directions….⁵⁴

The Perak crisis affected British policy outlook on the Malay States. The episode prompted the administration to take stock of the pace of administrative change. There was concern in the Colonial Office that any repeat of the Perak incidence would be costly.⁵⁵ Frequent calls were made by the Colonial Office urging Governors to remind Residents to play the proper role of advisers and to work closely with native rulers. In Perak and Selangor annual report, Sir Robert Herbert, Under Secretary in the Colonial Office, stressed to Residents the need to preserve Malay de jure rule, pointing out that the Resident’s exercise of power should not go beyond what was spelt out in the treaties. In 1878, soon after reversing an earlier decision by the Selangor Resident to suspend a Malay State council member, Straits Governor William Robinson warned Residents saying they

…[h]ave been placed in the Native states as advisers, not as rulers, and if they take upon themselves to disregard this principle they will most assuredly be held responsible if trouble springs out of their neglect of it.⁵⁶

More importantly, the Birch episode underlines British continued preservation of Malay de jure power while effecting British de facto rule. In the coming years Britain’s less-than-full retrenchment of Malay political role would set into motion the creation of institutions and the consolidation of Malay political influence and demands. We turn now to some important British-designed institutions that catered to Malaya’s different actors.

British-Designed Institutions: The State Council and Malaya’s New Actors

One prominent British-designed institution that marked the new political and economic landscape was the state council. The council acted as a legislative and executive body similar to the legislative council in the Straits Settlements. In the early years of British rule, the council mirrored that of Malay feudal arrangement where it performed the role of an advisory body for Malay chiefs to sense and act on public opinion.⁵⁷ The Perak state council consisted of a British officer and five members of the Malay royal family; the British-appointed Sultan Abdullah, Raja Ismail, Raja Yusuf, Raja Idris and Raja Bendahara.⁵⁸

In 1876, the arrangement of the Perak state council was modified. If previously membership of the council consisted of the Sultan as President of the Council, the British Resident and selected Malay Chiefs, the new council now included a new actor, in this case, two Chinese headmen from Perak’s competing Chinese secret societies, the Ghee Hin and Hai San. The incorporation of the two Chinese headmen as members of the state council was unprecedented. In fact, the Colonial Office was not comfortable with Governor Jervois’ move to elect non-Malays into the council, reminding Jervois that his move departed from Perak’s constitution where non-Malays “had no rights at all, not even the right to possess land”.⁵⁹ Jervois however insisted on incorporating non-Malay members emphasising that the two Chinese headmen represented important Chinese business interests.⁶⁰

In 1877, both Perak and Selangor had Malay and non-Malay members; Perak state council had eight members, four Malays, two Chinese and two Europeans, and Selangor had seven members, four of which were Malays, one Chinese and two Europeans. In Perak, the two Chinese councillors were Chung Keng Kwee, the headmen for the Hai San and Chin Ah Yam, the headman for the Ghee Hin. In the case of Selangor, Yap Ah Loy, who was the headman of the Hai San group, was made the first Chinese councillor in 1877.⁶¹

If one takes the path-dependent argument, Jervois’ decision to appoint Chinese headmen as council members was not a random act. Chinese involvement in the Malay political economy over the years made it increasingly logical to include the Chinese headmen. Path dependence suggests that the decision to include Chinese secret societies headmen to the State’s highest legislative body reflects the close state-business relationship between British administrators and Chinese businesses that had been entrenched over the years. ⁶² But Jervois’ short-term rational decision would have repercussions far beyond his term as Governor. His unprecedented decision set off a path-dependent process that would see the involvement of new actors in Malaya’s political and economic structures in the years to come. Subsequent British policies plus the self-reinforcing nature of Chinese business involvement and networks in the political economy of the Malay States ensured that the Chinese community, as economic agents, would continue to be factored in future state’s policy decisions and calculations. Such built-in expectations were aided by British increasing investment and dependence on Chinese enterprises and labour that made it difficult, if not impossible, not to incorporate Chinese interest in policy calculations. In the coming years, increasing returns suggest that not having Chinese representatives in the state council would be a non-option. Indeed, throughout the nineteenth century, the British administration introduced other policies to facilitate and promote the role of the Chinese as important new actor in the political economy; policies that would, inadvertently, contribute to the formation of an autonomous community. One such creation was the office of the Chinese Protector.

The Chinese Protectorate Office

The Chinese Protectorate Office is another British endorsement of Chinese as an important economic actor.⁶³ The office is peculiar to British rule in Malaya; nowhere else under British rule was there such an institution.⁶⁴ Even in Malaya, there was no similar institution that catered to another of Malaya’s new actor, the Indians.

The urgency for such an office was sparked after the big riot in 1876 in Singapore involving Chinese secret societies. Despite the administration’s running battles with Chinese secret societies, the administration did not opt to seek alternative sources of labour but continued its reliance on Chinese labour and capital. Such dependence on Chinese labour and capital, prompted the Straits government to set up a commission to look into the issues of labour abuse, migration and Chinese secret societies. The result of the commission saw the establishment of the Chinese Protectorate Office and the appointment of a Chinese-speaking officer, known as the Chinese Protector. The first Chinese Protector was William Pickering who spoke Chinese dialects and Mandarin.⁶⁵ Pickering played a mediating role, settling squabbles between Chinese migrants and ensuring that migrants were not exploited by working closely with Chinese community leaders, and invoking the community’s social and family law.⁶⁶

The Protectorate Office helped to consolidate the colonial administration’s Chinese concerns. The increasing returns from having such a protectorate saw the role of the protectorate in the Straits Settlements extended to other Malay States. A Commission of Inquiry Report 1890 that looked into providing liberal immigration policies recommended that the Chinese Protectorate Office be extended to the Malay States given the increased movement of Chinese capital and labour into these states. Selangor obtained a Chinese Protector in 1890, Negeri Sembilan in 1914, Kedah and Johore in 1914 and Pahang in 1938.⁶⁷ In 1899, the Secretary for Chinese Affairs Enactment was established. The Enactment gave wide-ranging powers to the Secretary for Chinese Affairs and the Protectors of Chinese in the Straits Settlements and the four FMS. In 1934, the office was consolidated into a single appointment, the Secretary for Chinese, Malaya.⁶⁸

The creation and expansion of the Chinese Protectorate Office entrenched Chinese role within the Malay States’ political and economic institutions. We turn now to other British policies that encouraged the introduction of Chinese labour and capital to the Malay States that only added to a repertoire of Chinese-based institutions and the creation of an autonomous Chinese community.

British Policies on Chinese Migration and Enterprise

It would be apparent by now, that Chinese labour and capital were an indispensable part of the colonial economy. Even though Indian labour was also brought in to work at agricultural plantations through the kangany (head of coolies) system,⁶⁹ it was obvious that no British officer familiar with the economic realities of the Malay States would compromise on Chinese labour and capital.

British’s preference for Chinese capital and labour was well grounded; Chinese involvement in the economy had a proven track record. Since the tin rush of the 1840s, the Straits Settlements and the Malay States saw a well-organised Chinese business network, spun by Chinese merchants and Chinese secret societies. By the 1870s, Chinese companies had a big stake in the economy. Chinese companies had a near monopoly of the lucrative tin-mining business in the Malay States of Perak, Selangor and Negeri Sembilan. Chinese enterprises also held near monopoly of tax farming businesses, mainly opium and gambling in these states.

The dependence of the economy on Chinese capital and labour saw the colonial administration introducing policies to ensure the constant supply of Chinese labour and capital.⁷⁰ At times, whole Chinese community was moved to Malaya. In 1877, an Ordinance on Chinese labour and migration saw the setting up of transit centres in the Straits Settlements to transfer newly arrived migrants from the Straits Settlements to the thriving mining centres of Perak and Selangor; these centres also doubled up as detention centres.⁷¹ That same year, British Resident Hugh Low encouraged the migration of sugar planters from southern China into Perak. These sugar planters were given land, rent-free, to operate along the Krian River. Given the large movement of Chinese labour into the mining towns in Perak, in 1883, Hugh Low appointed a Secretary for Chinese Affairs in Perak to look into the interests of Chinese capitalists and to oversee a registration system for Chinese migrants.⁷² In 1889, J. P. Roger, the British Resident in Selangor, initiated several proposals to encourage the importation of Chinese labour. These included introducing chartered steamers to service the ports in southern China and Malaya, collaborating with steamships in China to ferry migrants from ports in China to Malaya, assisting companies by granting them loans to import Chinese labour, and giving bonuses to those who imported Chinese migrants.⁷³ Such was the demand for Chinese labour that, in 1889, Frank Swettenham, then Resident General, formed a syndicate with several Chinese merchants to operate a steamship company specifically to import Chinese labour.⁷⁴ In 1903, the colonial government also approved the proposal for the large importation of Chinese agricultural communities from Foochow in China to Setiawan, Perak. Facilitated by American D. H. Leuring, 363 immigrants were shipped from China with the government providing these agricultural families with 2,700 acres of land.⁷⁵

British liberal immigration policies brought results. Between 1881 and 1899, there was a near 100 percent increase in the number of immigrant to the ports of Singapore and Penang (see Table 3.5). There are no given statistics of Chinese migration to the Malay States but what is obvious is that ports of Penang and Singapore acted as transit points, as “the attraction for most Chinese immigrants to the Malay Peninsula was not the Straits Settlements but the rich Malayan hinterland”.⁷⁶ The largest increase in Chinese labour migrants was registered in the FMS, especially in tin-bearing areas of Perak, Selangor and Negeri Sembilan, and this correlated with the boom years in the tin mining industry of the late nineteenth century (see Table 3.6).⁷⁷

The colonial administration short-termi economic priorities had little concern on the long-term impact of migration. British officials viewed migrants as birds of passage who treated Malaya as a transit point even as late as the twentieth century. To the administration, Chinese labour migration only served the immediate need of a growing economy. In 1902, for instance, during an address to the Royal Colonial Institute, Sir Hugh Clifford said

…[t]hose who fancy that the Chinese are anxious to rule the communities to which they belong… [a]re, I believe mistaken… [t]here is only one female to every 10 males among the Chinese population….[t]he bulk of the Chinese inhabitants cannot be regarded as belonging to the permanent population of the states…⁷⁸

Even in the 1930s and despite a burgeoning migrant population, Brigadier General Wilson, the Permanent Under-Secretary in the Colonial Office, wrote of a transient Chinese population mentioning that

… [I]n general it is true to say that the bulk of the Chinese and Indians like the Europeans go to Malaya not to make it their home, but in the hope of making a living and possibly amassing wealth with which to return to their native lands.⁷⁹

There is little to suggest from the speeches of British officers that the colonial administration realized that in its effort to satisfy Malaya’s short-term labour and economic needs, its policies would profoundly change the political, social and economic complexion of the Malay States. The colonial administration’s liberal immigration policies and short-term policy outlook had little appreciation of the social, economic and political processes that were taking place. British liberal immigration policies are just one of the many British policies that contributed to the growth of a strong Chinese autonomous community. The nineteenth century would also see a strong State-Chinese business nexus.

State-Chinese Business Relations

The years after the Pangkor Treaty saw increased linkages between British administration and Chinese business. So reliant was the administration on Chinese labour and capital, that in Perak, Resident Hugh Low made several concessions to appease Chinese tax farmers. On one occasion, Low was forced to change his initial plan for a new leasing procedure on opium taxation when Chinese tax farm operators opposed the move and sparked a riot in Taiping, Perak. The disapproval by the operators forced Low to come up with a watered-down version of his initial plan. What is significant is that Low changed his initial plan without going through proper legislative procedures. He negotiated his new tax deal outside the state council after meeting the headmen of two Chinese secret societies. Given that Low’s earlier tax reform measures were made in the state council and with state council’s approval, this reversal in decision was improper.⁸⁰ Nonetheless Low’s gesture bore dividend. His revised tax structure brought in revenue of about $360,000 in its first year.⁸¹

Perak was not the only Malay State that accommodated Chinese capital. Selangor awarded opium and gambling farm concessions to a Penang Hokkien syndicate in an effort to attract capital from outside the state.⁸² In 1892, the British Resident in Negeri Sembilan (previously Sungei Ujong) revamped the tax farming system to boost investment in the state, by collecting taxes directly from tax farmers in a bid to attract Chinese enterprises. In 1895, Selangor also employed similar methods, collecting revenue directly from tax farms to prevent leakage, which helped to attract investment to the state.

The close Chinese business-state nexus also saw the state willing to accommodate businesses during times of financial hardship. The colonial administration was prepared to bail out few Chinese businesses caught in financial distress. In 1876, Selangor approved an advance of $10,000 to Selangor Kapitan Cina, following a request by the Selangor Acting Resident to cushion the loss incurred by tax farmers.⁸³ In 1885, the State of Perak provided a loan of $8,000 to Chin Ah Yam – who was also a member of the state council – to allow him to continue operating the tax farm. The loan was eventually written off with the Straits Governor’s consent.⁸⁴ In another instance, Governor Maxwell approved a loan of about $50,000 to Kapitan Cina in 1890 to assist miners to tide over financial difficulties.⁸⁵ In 1896 the Governor also approved a loan of $50,000 secured to the Selangor Kapitan Cina.⁸⁶ Perhaps one of the most glaring examples of close collaboration between the state and Chinese business was the case involving the Selangor British Resident Bloomfield Douglas and a Chinese Kapitan over the release of opium and gambling farms where the bidding process was accused to be rigged in favour of the Chinese Kapitan.⁸⁷ The case had elements of insider dealing and abuse of state power. Douglas’ dealings were revealed in a letter by a certain Koh Boon Hock to the Straits authority, where he lamented on the Selangor administration’s unfair bidding practices that favoured the Selangor Chinese Kapitan.⁸⁸

The above examples demonstrate the importance of Chinese labour and capital to the colonial economy so much so that efforts were made by the administration to accommodate Chinese interests. The British administration’s encouragement of Chinese businesses not only incorporated new actors into the economic sphere, but also built Chinese expectations and created exclusive Chinese-based institutions in the years ahead. Indeed, British short-term desire to incorporate Chinese into the political economy would set off processes – slow and incremental they may be – that would prove transformational to the political economy of the Malay States in the long term.

If British management of the Chinese community involved co-opting Chinese interest into Malaya’s political and legislative structures, British management of Malay actors involved diminishing Malay de facto rule while preserving Malay de jure power. We look now at the changed political and economic role of the traditional actor, the Malays.

New Institutions and the Role of Traditional Actors

The murder of J. W. Birch and the ensued political unrest demonstrate the uneasy tussle over de facto and de jure power between the colonial administration and Malay rulers. J. W. Birch’s plan spoke of British intention to combine British de facto rule with de jure rule that, to Malay actors, would emasculate the de jure power of the Malay Sultans. Birch’s murder reminded the British administration to continuing executing British de facto rule while maintaining Malay de jure power, at least in form. This posture is well articulated by William Robinson, the Straits Governor, in his reply to Hugh Low’s memo, Birch’s successor in Perak. Robinson wrote that:

…[t]he fiction(if such you prefer to call it) that the Resident are merely advisers, must be kept up; and here is just where the adroitness and ability of the officer are so important.⁸⁹

While the Birch’s incident reminded both actors on de facto power and de jure rule, on many occasions, those roles were lost on the actors. The dynamics in state council’s meeting epitomises such confusion. In its proper form, the British Resident, assuming de facto rule, was required to conduct and prepare details of each state council meeting, advised the Sultan to assent to the minutes of the meeting and carried out measures agreed in the meeting. The final endorsement of the council meeting would come from the Sultan, clearly demarcating the Sultan’s de jure power and the Resident’s de facto rule. Such procedures at times were only good on paper. There were times when the Sultan exercised both de facto rule and de jure power. But there were many instances when British officers ventured beyond their de facto rule. There were occasions when the British Resident “assumed” the role of the Sultan as President of the state council when making decisions. Even though the final endorsement of state council meetings would come from the Sultan, the Sultan could only come to a decision with the approval of the council members and such decision by the council members was often influenced by the opinion of the Resident. Also, the Resident, rather than the Sultan, had influence over the appointment of council members with the Sultan merely endorsing the candidates on advice from the Resident. The appointment of Malay representatives in the council at times rests with the colonial administration despite such appointment being part of the Sultan’s prerogative. In 1877, for instance, Perak Resident Hugh Low refused the Sultan’s approval of the appointment of a Malay chief, Panglima Kinta, on grounds that the latter refused to meet Hugh Low during his first week as Resident.⁹⁰ The succession issue involving the Malay royal house also increasingly came under British influence, when before, it was decided by Malay chiefs. While there were times when this customary law was observed, there were occasions when British authority promoted its own candidate and objected to the candidate proposed by the Malay rulers. Such is the case in Negeri Sembilan when the new Dato Klana was installed by the Secretary of State despite the objection by the Dato Bandar, a Malay chief.⁹¹ In 1905, also in Negeri Sembilan, the British Resident Campbell refused to agree to the Yam Tuan’s candidate for the new Dato Penghulu. Campbell then appointed more acceptable candidate by invoking a clause in the Rembau Treaty.⁹² The confusion over British de facto power and de jure rule became obvious from the late 1880s when decisions were increasingly made by the Governor of the Straits Settlements, who also assumed the position of High Commissioner of the Malay States. State council’s decision was often overruled by decisions made by Straits Settlements’ governor. In July 1891, the Perak state council’s decision to impose brothel registration fees was overruled by the High Commissioner who issued a draft order for the abolition of such Brothel Registration Fees. In June 1894, the Governor Cecil Smith revoked the death sentence passed by the state council. There were also times when important matters were excluded altogether from the purview of the state council. Two matters, the State’s annual estimates and matters involving non-Malay establishment, came under the sole charge of the Governor, and the Colonial Office,⁹³ a case that clearly underlines the fuzziness between British de facto rule and de jure power.

Sensing his secondary role in administration and his diminished de facto power, the Sultan of Selangor made known to Governor Weld that he did not want to be encumbered by the State’s administration and would leave the affairs of the state to the Governor and the Resident.⁹⁴ The Sultan of Selangor’s decision was judicious because in so doing, he formally demarcated de jure from de facto power and reinstated the new power arrangement; that Malay rulers would keep to their de jure rule while leaving de facto rule to the Resident. By distancing himself from the mundaneness of state council deliberations and affairs of the state, the Sultan underhandedly reestablished his office of exercising de jure power.

By force or by choice, this demarcation of de jure and de facto power by the Sultan of Selangor would set the tone of British administration in the coming years. Despite Malay rulers experiencing diminished de facto power, the continued preservation of Malay de jure power was enough to encourage a path-dependent process where Malays would raise their expectations and make demands on political and economic resources over time. By continuing to allow Malay de jure power, the colonial administration inadvertently continued to ensure Malays’ latent ability to influence the political economy of the Malay States. In the twentieth century such preservation of Malay de jure role created new capacities that resulted in the Malays making greater political, social and economic demands. It was during this time that Malay actors began to leverage on their “special” political position, which would see the colonial administration creating institutions that became platforms for Malay political and economic expression. One administrative change in the Malay States that provided a platform for the building up of Malay capacity was the British centralisation policy in the form of the Federated Malay States (FMS). We turn to this next.

Formation of the Federal Malay States

The formation of the FMS was another British attempt to consolidate British de facto rule. But, in attempting to consolidate British rule, the colonial administration helped preserve Malay de jure position; the FMS unintentionally gave the Malay actors an institutional platform to make more demands.

The move to amalgamate the four Malay States of Perak, Selangor, Negeri Sembilan and Pahang into a federation was first mooted by Frank Swettenham in 1893. Swettenham’s proposal was economically motivated. With centralisation there would be a common taxation and land settlement codes that would make it easier for the colonial government to design and implement policies. Another reason for the formation of the Federation was the administration’s aim to offload the financial burden of the state of Pahang after the state failed to live up to its economic potential.⁹⁵ Pahang’s financial woes was initially brought to the Straits Settlements’ legislative council in Singapore but the council refused to provide further loans to the state that saw Pahang eventually being part of the FMS.⁹⁶ Indeed, the FMS was an efficient way to improve administrative coordination and communication between the Malay States. The Federation would consolidate an expanding Malayan bureaucracy and help ease the administrative burden of the High Commissioner – who doubled up as the Governor of the Straits Settlements – from having to keep tabs on four separate Malay States, each of which had its own set of codes.

The FMS was formed on 1 July 1896 with Frank Swettenham being made the first Resident-General and had a Secretariat in Kuala Lumpur headed by the Resident-General. With the formation of the FMS British Residents from the four states now had to report to the Resident-General. They must also work out administrative details in consultation with the Resident-General in Kuala Lumpur. The Resident-General would in turn report to the High Commissioner in Singapore.⁹⁷

The FMS implicitly acknowledged Malay de jure power while at the same time provided for British de facto rule. The Federation agreement defined the administration’s careful management of enhancing British de facto power without injuring Malay de jure power. For instance, the document stipulated that Malay rulers would have “to follow his [Resident-General] advice in all matters of administration other than those touching the Mohammedan religion”. The sixth clause of the document underlined Malay states’ terms of reference when it emphasised that

nothing in this Agreement is intended to curtail any powers or authority now held by any of the above-mentioned Rulers in their respective States, nor does it alter the relations now existing between any of the States named and the British Empire.⁹⁸

This careful management of Malay de jure against British de facto rule was again reflected in a letter by the Secretary of State Joseph Chamberlain to Swettenham, where he reminded Swettenham that

… [n]o pains should be spared to safeguard the position and dignity of the Native rulers, …[a]nd that by this agreement, the Rulers will not in the slightest degree be diminishing the powers and privileges which they now possess, nor be curtailing the right of self government which they now enjoy⁹⁹

British continued preservation of Malay de jure power proved critical.¹⁰⁰ By allowing its continuation, the administration kept the terms of reference of the Malay States – that of Monarchy, Malay and Islam. The administration also ended up raising Malay expectations and increasing Malay political and social capacity over time. Such processes created a dense Malay-related institutional network which in the aggregate, gave rise to Malay political expression and generated distributional consequences in the twentieth century. We now explain the creation of institutions under the FMS that helped shape new expectations.

FMS, Pan-Malay Consciousness and Growing Malay Demands

The FMS produced three main features that contributed to Malay demands in the twentieth century. First, the formation of the FMS gave rise to a pan-Malayan consciousness. The FMS brought Malay rulers together for the first time and helped create “Malaya” as a political entity.¹⁰¹ Centralisation, unwittingly, encouraged Malay rulers to approach issues with a pan-Malay perspective. This unprecedented level of cooperation was not lost on Frank Swettenham, the Resident General, who said that “so far, as I am aware no Ruler of any of the four States had ever previously visited a neighbouring Sultan with peaceful and friendly intentions”.¹⁰² The Malay rulers echoed Swettenham’s sentiment. At the first meeting of the Rulers’ Conference in 1897, they acknowledged the significance of the ceremony saying that

We, the Sultans of the Malay States of Selangor, Perak, Pahang and Negeri Sembilan, by the invitation of Your Majesty’s High Commissioner, are met together for the first time in history to discuss the affairs of our States confederated under Your Majesty’s gracious protection¹⁰³

The FMS also created new institutions that provided for a more organised platform in articulating Malay social, political and economic interest. In its early years, the FMS created the Conference of Rulers and the Federal Council. These are two important political apparatuses that accorded Malay de jure power and gave a platform for Malay political expression, underlining yet again the terms of reference defining the Malay States.

The Conference of Rulers was made up of Malay rulers and members of the state councils. The Conference, called initially the Durbar of Rulers, was first held in 1897, a year after the formation of the FMS, and was attended by all four Malay rulers. The Conference of Rulers did not grant the Malay rulers executive power other than merely served to remind the Malay rulers of their special position within the administration. But despite its seemingly ceremonial function, the Conference of Rulers provided a good enough platform for a more organised Malay political expression evident in the coming years. Malay rulers for instance, started to voice their apprehension concerning the new FMS arrangement. During the second Conference of Rulers in 1903, Sultan Idris, the Sultan of Perak, recorded his concern over the loss of state autonomy and Malay rulers’ involvement in administering the state.¹⁰⁴ At the Conference, the Sultan reminded members that Residents were advisers and he reminded the house that each state should be allowed to manage its own affairs and that even under European guidance, Malay rule, “should not be nominal”.¹⁰⁵

In 1909, the FMS created another instrument, the Federal Council. The Federal Council was a “council of all state councils.” With the Federal Council, policies that were deemed important to all states were now decided at federal level not at the state level. By its design, the Federal Council was an attempt by the colonial administration to prop British de facto rule and at the same time diminish Malay de jure power. In the Council’s hierarchy, the High Commissioner was made President of the Federal Council, not the Malay rulers. In fact, below the High Commissioner was the Resident-General. The four Malay rulers only came after the Resident General, and below them were four unofficial members. These unofficial members were drawn from European and Chinese business interests. What’s more, these unofficial members were recommended, not by the Malay rulers, but by the High Commissioner with the approval of His Majesty, the King of England.¹⁰⁶

The Council had all the arrangement geared to emasculate not only Malay de facto rule but more importantly Malay de jure rule. Malay rulers were now relegated to become ordinary members of the house, not given special privileges when it comes to making decision. There were fears among the rulers that such arrangement would further diminish Malay political power although this fear was assuaged by the High Commissioner, John Andersen, who during the opening address at the first session of the Federal Council, reaffirmed British commitment to preserving Malay de jure power reminding the Council that

…[i]t was no small sacrifice of individuality on the part of the Rulers to enter on the compact of Federation…[T]hey are confident that we will never forget that our powers are derived wholly from their gift, and that we are here in a Malay country as the advisers and councillors of its Malay sovereigns.¹⁰⁷

Still, to be counted as just mere members in a so-called “house of commons” greatly reduced their roles as Malay sultans and threatened to emasculate the position of the Malay monarchy. Sensing that their roles as de jure rulers would be compromised, Malay rulers decided to withdraw from the Federal Council and concentrate on the upper house, a more exclusive chamber for the royals. Again, by withdrawing from the federal council the rulers distanced themselves from being just another appointed member of federal council and in so doing, kept the office of the Malay royal house intact. This will be described below.

More importantly, the FMS as a political construct unintentionally gave resources to Malay elites that made it possible for them to embark on a repertoire of initiatives that would consolidate Malay demands.¹⁰⁸ The Conference of Rulers and the Federal Council exposed Malay elites to modern administrative system that would give rise to a consolidated Malay organisation in the years ahead. Both the Rulers’ Conference and the Federal Council increased Malay administrative capacity and Malay political participation in the running of the colonial administration. This increased in Malay capacities would generate new demands and created, in the coming years, new institutions that would give rise to a network of Malay-based institutions.¹⁰⁹ Indeed unknowing to the British, the formation of the FMS raised Malay expectations.

Rising Malay Expectations

Rising Malay expectations came from various sources. With the formation of the FMS, Malay rulers increasingly voiced their opinion regarding the dilution of their role in the British administration. Though the demands by the rulers largely bordered on executive and legislative issues, these demands were unified voice that sought political and legislative redress – a consolidated voice that was evidently absent before the formation of the FMS. The second source of articulation came from a growing band of Malay-Muslim scholars. These intellectuals were beneficiaries of an improved economy and an expanded education system. The following chapters will describe how these intellectuals helped set up Malay social and political organisations and became actively involved in journalism to convey thoughts on Malay development.

More importantly, the FMS and its attendant institutions raised expectations and set the momentum for more Malay elites to question British policies that saw them raising issues that they deemed disadvantageous to Malays. The early years of the FMS saw Malay rulers vigorously questioning the new power arrangement and their role in it. One of the vocal critics of the Federation arrangement was the Sultan of Perak, Sultan Idris. At the second meeting of the Conference of Rulers in July 1903, the Sultan commented on the ambiguity of the role of the Malay sultans and British officers appointed to the FMS saying that:

…..A Malay proverb says that there cannot be two masters to one vessel; neither can there be four Rulers over one country.¹¹⁰

In 1905, Sultan Idris again raised the issue of the conflation of power among Malay rulers and British officers and the increasing difficulty of individual Malay States to decide on policy matters, complaining that the new arrangement contravened the Treaty of the Federation.¹¹¹ In a visit to London in 1924, Sultan Iskandar of Perak expressed to the King his displeasure over the FMS arrangement.¹¹² He gave a memorandum to the Colonial Office, requesting that the original treaty (the Pangkor Engagement) be followed in its exact terms and called for a stronger state council where the Resident would carry out duties on the Sultan’s behalf on consultation with the Sultan¹¹³ The demands made by Malay rulers were taken seriously. In the year after Sultan Iskandar’s visit to London in 1924, Governor Guillemard made major changes to the federation arrangement. The new arrangement provided more decision-making powers to state councils and Residents.¹¹⁴

The growing confidence also saw Malay rulers informing the British administration that they were withdrawing their membership from the Federal Council. The Malay rulers reasoned that it was unfit for a sovereign ruler to be among appointed members. An Upper House, similar to the House of Lords, was designed to accommodate Malay rulers. And in place of the Malay rulers in the Federal Council, three unofficial Malay members were appointed to the house in 1927. Malay members of the council like Raja Chulan and Dato Abdullah Dahan became active voices in raising Malay issues especially those pertaining to education and Malay appointment in the civil service.¹¹⁵ Again, the decision by Malay rulers to withdraw from the Federal Council and have a separate Upper House not only reemphasised Malay de jure power but entrenched the terms of reference of the Malay States.

The above examples demonstrate that British management of Malay expectations ended up with the colonial administration becoming accidental flag bearer of Malay nationalism. British policies precipitated the creation of Malay-based institutions and raised Malay expectations. The centralising effect of the FMS, British continued recognition of Malay Sultans as heads of state, the continued honouring of treaties with individual Malay States and the formation of the Federal Council and the Conference of Malay Rulers were all forms that improved Malay capacity and entrenched Malay de jure position. The twentieth century would also see British officers like Governor Andersen, W.H. Treacher, Wilkinson, Windstedt, Cecil Smith, and Guillemard raising and promoting issues of Malay development which, in no small measure, contributed to Malay capacity building, raised Malay expectations and kept Malaya’s terms of reference. These expectations were manifested in the creation of institutions like Malay education, Malay appointment in the civil service and the provision of land to Malays. We look now at three of these “pro-Malay” policies to demonstrate how British policies created a dense Malay institutional network that in aggregate resulted in Malay political expression.

Malay Land Policy

The Malay Reservation Enactment of 1913 was a landmark policy because it is a clear signal of British twentieth century “pro-Malay” policy.¹¹⁶ The need for a Malay reservation land policy was first mooted in 1908 during the Conference of British Residents. At the conference the Residents raised concerns that Malays were selling their lands at attractive prices to commercial enterprises. This was the time when there was heavy land speculation brought on by a surge in the demand for rubber. The idea was given added attention after a Federal Secretariat Paper raised further concerns given the rate of sale of Malay lands to non-Malays.¹¹⁷ Two years later, in 1910, the Perak Resident E. W. Birch suggested measures be taken to safeguard Malay interest, pointing out that not doing so would be “to forget that these are Malay States and that the people have only taken from us a document to evidence title”.¹¹⁸

The concerns were justifiable. Between 1896 and the First World War the growth of the rubber industry during the period was nothing short of phenomenal. In slightly over ten years, rubber acreage in the FMS grew from a low of 345 acres in 1897 to 196,953 acres in 1909, an increase of nearly 60,000 percent! (see Figure 3.2). And by 1913, European planters occupied some 685,000 acres of land in Malaya, a marked rise from the 100,000 acres of land occupied in 1906.¹¹⁹

Figure 3.2 Increase in Rubber Acreage in the Federated Malay States.

Source: Various Annual Reports, Department of Agriculture 1906–1909.

The Malay Land Reservation Enactment of 1913 clearly safeguarded Malay interest but contravened the spirit of liberalism, a value highly regarded by nineteenth-century Britain.¹²⁰ The Enactment gave states the right to reserve land for the exclusive ownership of Malays, to restrict land sales in areas reserved for Malays and to allow non-Malays to only lease the land for a maximum period of three years. In justifying the Enactment, the Legal Adviser of the FMS, Frederick Belfied, acknowledged that despite contradiction “[i]t appears to me that the end here is of such importance that it justifies the means”.¹²¹

The significance of the Malay Reservation Enactment is that it raised expectations and contributed to a series of Malay-based institutions, consistent with the logic of increasing returns. The coming years saw more demands for Malay-based institutions. The Enactment of 1913 for instance was followed by the Rice Land Enactment of 1917, where certain Malay lands were not allowed to be used other than for rice plantation. In 1921, the Federal Cooperative Societies Department was formed to assist Malay peasants with credit facilities. In 1931, the Malay Reservation Enactment was fine-tuned to put further restrictions on the use and sale of Malay lands. To take the increasing returns effect further, in 1950 the colonial administration set up the Rural and Industrial Development Agency (RIDA) to encourage Malays to partake in activities like rubber and rice production. In 1956, the Federal Land Development Authority (FELDA) was established to provide agricultural lands mainly to Malays. Given the self-reinforcing logic, it is not surprising that modern Malaysia still retains such institutions.

The Malay Reservation Enactment is also significant because the manner in which it was discussed and approved by the Federal Council reflects the nascent stage of Malaya’s plural society at the time. Despite the controversial nature of the act that clearly favoured Malay interest, the Enactment was met with no resistance from the non-Malay members of the Federal Council when it was debated. The non-Malay representatives, like Eu Tong Sen, for instance did not object to the bill and only posted a cautionary note saying:

… [Now] under this Bill, they[Malays} cannot mortgage their land except to a Malay and I think it is rather hard for Malay owners because some of them have no capital to open up their land.¹²²

The muted response from council members reflects both the newness of Malaya’s plural society and an affirmation, intuitively, of the terms of reference that defined the Malay States. Such affirmative action was tolerated or met with little concern by non-Malays because of the largely unsettled nature of Malaya’s nascent plural communities. This could never be imagined in the Malaysia of 2022. In modern Malaysia, such an enactment would potentially invite acrimonious debate. Besides the Malay Reservation Enactment, there were other British policies in the twentieth century that were “pro-Malay” that served to stir up Malay nationalism. One other example is in the area of education.

Education Policy

In the early years of British rule, education was not among the administration’s top priorities. The British administration was more concerned with advancing its economic agenda than focusing on Malaya’s social development. Until the 1920s, only about 1.5 percent of total state revenue was allotted to education.¹²³ Only in 1890 that Selangor and Perak had their first Inspector of Schools; Pahang and Negeri Sembilan even did not have full-time trained education officers until the early twentieth century.¹²⁴

The formation of the FMS however gave attention to Malay education. The FMS gave Malay rulers and British officers the platform to raise concerns on developing Malay capacities and encouraging Malay employability in the modern economy. In the second Conference of Rulers in 1903, Malay rulers expressed their concern that the formation of the FMS had encouraged an “increasingly alien and non-Malay character of government” and there was the need for the British administration to address Malay development, specifically education.¹²⁵ The Malay rulers’ remarks prompted the colonial administration to address Malay education and provide “special facilities to instruct Malays to become useful public servants”.¹²⁶ The conference gave rise to a report, which was the first comprehensive initiative to address Malay education. Prepared by the Director of Education, R. J. Wilkinson, the report proposed the setting up of “a residential school for the education of Malays of good family, and for training of Malay boys for admission to certain branches of the Government service”.¹²⁷ Wilkinson’s proposal however was not met with enthusiasm by the new High Commissioner, John Andersen. Andersen had “some doubts as to the ultimate success of the scheme”, but later agreed to build a school in 1905 but only “as an experiment for three years”.¹²⁸ Anderson’s initial reservation proved unfounded. In the next few years, the school – despite being highly under-funded – performed exceedingly well.¹²⁹

The school’s unexpected achievement convinced British authority to establish a permanent school. In 1909 a Malay College was established in Kuala Kangsar, Perak. The Malay College Kuala Kangsar (MCKK) not only prepared Malay boys for administrative roles but also produced graduates who would later become key personalities in Malay nationalist struggle. Some of its famous graduates include Ishak Mohd who was instrumental in setting up the left-wing political party, the Kesatuan Melayu Muda (KMM), Tengku Ismail Tengku Yasin who set up the Selangor Malay Association and Onn Jaafar who would later found the United Malay National Organisation (UMNO).

Until the 1920s, British priority on Malay education went only as far as meeting immediate Malay demands. The colonial administration provided for Malay education that was only enough to achieve literacy.¹³⁰ One oft-quoted remark that typifies the British attitude towards Malay education is made by the Director of Education in the 1920s, who pointed out that

…[T]he aim of the government is not to turn out a few well educated youths, nor a number of less well-educated boys: rather it is to improve the bulk of the people, and to make the son of the fisherman or peasant a more intelligent fisherman or peasant than his father had been, and a man whose education will enable him to understand how his lot in life fits in with the scheme of life around him.¹³¹

Despite British reluctance to “overeducate” the Malays, British provision of Malay education raise Malay expectations. In the coming years, the success of the Malay College paved the way for greater demands for Malay education that led to the setting up of the Sultan Idris Training College (SITC) in 1922, also in the state of Perak. The SITC was initially meant to be a vocational school. The justification for a vocational education came from Richard Windstedt, whose report recommended that “the bulk of the inhabitants must turn to agriculture and other industries” and that “(a)ny ideal of education, not adjusted to local wants, must lead to economic dislocation and social unrest”.¹³² The Windstedt report also called for a revamp of Malay vernacular education, suggesting the need to curb Malay “over education” and to remove the fifth standard in Malay schools and replace it with modules in drawing, horticulture and basket making so as to teach Malays the “dignity of manual labour”.¹³³ The report speaks of the colonial administration attitude towards education, but there was no stopping the dividends reaped from education. The outcome of the college, however, surpassed Windstedt’s humble expectations.

The SITC produced more than just vocational graduates. Instead of producing horticulturalists, the college became a centre for Malay literary activity. As Roff (1967) puts it, with the setting up of the SITC “many of the most important effects of the ‘new education’ were felt but they were mostly not in ways envisaged by either Windstedt or other British administrators”.¹³⁴ The college drew Malay students from across the Peninsula and quickly became a meeting ground for bright Malay youths. In fact, the collegial atmosphere created a common Malay consciousness and a Malay intelligentsia, with some of its graduates becoming leading scholars and personalities in Malay nationalist movements in the 1930s and 1940s.¹³⁵ Prominent Malay personalities associated with the college include Zainal Abidin Ahmad or Zaaba, a well-known writer and scholar who headed the Translation Bureau at the college until 1939. Another SITC famous graduate is Ibrahim Yaacob who later formed the KMM, a Malayan radical nationalist party in 1938.¹³⁶ During the Japanese occupation, Ibrahim was made Commander-in-Chief of the Malay Militia, sanctioned by the Japanese.¹³⁷

British education policy in Malaya was meant to achieve modest outcomes. British officers like Anderson and Windstedt clearly saw the provision of education as a means to appease Malay power centres but believe that such provisions must be kept within the bounds of British expectations. The colonial administrators however, did not anticipate that its rational short-term policies would create new expectations and institutions and outcomes that were far in excess from the initial policy objectives. Besides education, the twentieth century also saw growing calls by Malay elites and British officers for Malay participation in the civil service to which we turn now.

Civil Service

The twentieth century would see Malay elites demanding the colonial administration for more participation in the civil service that would in turn increase Malay administrative capacity and led to more expectations. The recruitment of Malays into the civil service came on the heels of a conjuncture of events; the formation of the FMS, the increased calls by Malay rulers for more Malay administrators, the demand for education and the events of the First World War that forced the colonial administration to reduce the number of British officers.

Recruitment of trained Malays into the civil service started in earnest only in 1910 with the introduction of the Malay Administrative Service (MAS).¹³⁸ Together with the MAS, a Malay Probationer Scheme (MPS) was also introduced. The MPS was a recruitment scheme where Malay boys were handpicked by Residents and put through a three-year course at the Malay College to undergo courses in correspondence, finance and basic administration.¹³⁹ The best of these graduates would then be placed under the MAS.

The MAS however was never an equal to the elite Malayan Civil Service (MCS). It is a “very junior branch of the MCS”¹⁴⁰ whose training was never meant to prepare its graduates to be absorbed into the prestigious MCS. To begin with, the training of the Malay officers did not come close to the training of the lowest rank of the MCS, the cadet rank. Given the inferior training, Malay officers played ancillary roles in the British administration and were involved in routine administrative tasks and confined to duties in rural areas as settlement officers to the land office or as Malay assistant secretaries.¹⁴¹

Despite playing a “junior” role in the civil service, the introduction of the MAS raised expectations and paved the way for more Malay involvement in the civil service. In the coming years, Malay officers began to demand more from the civil service. They expressed their unhappiness with the scheme, complaining that promotion was slow, remuneration was unattractive and access to the prestigious MCS impossible. In 1917, a British official recorded Malay grievances of the MAS in a memo to the High Commissioner. The memo raised concerns over the practice of relegating Malay officers to the work of a third-class clerk, which created “…[n]ot unnaturally, a sense of dissatisfaction or even a distaste for further service with the government”.¹⁴²

The colonial administration took heed of such concerns. In 1919, the High Commissioner commented on the need to have more Malays in the civil service, saying that the Malays should “take their proper place in the administration and commercial life of these states”.¹⁴³ In 1921, qualified Malays were allowed entry to the MCS directly. In 1922 there was a major overhaul of Malay civil service recruitment. In that year, the Retrenchment Commission came up with wide-ranging policies that included an affirmative policy proposing that the proportion of Malays to local-born non-Malays be ultimately kept to the ratio of seven Malays to three non-Malays.¹⁴⁴ Between 1921 and 1931 ten posts were reserved for Malay officers in the prestigious MCS.¹⁴⁵ British Residents of the FMS also urged the government to include more Malays on the Railway and the Postal and Telegraph Department.¹⁴⁶ In fact the General Orders for the FMS specified that “Malays must receive preference in filling all vacancies in the subordinate ranks of government employment”.¹⁴⁷ Indeed more was to come as Malays demanded more participation in the civil service. In a Federal Council proceeding in 1934, Abdullah Dahan, a council member, called for the government to provide Malays with higher administrative tasks.¹⁴⁸ Indeed, Malay participation in the civil service follows a path-dependent argument. Entry to the MCS provided the “principal avenue by which Malays might acquire in the modern world the authority that was slipping from them in the old” and brought about the “emergence of a new Malay leadership group, English-educated and increasingly influenced by Western ideas of government and social organisation”.¹⁴⁹

It would have been obvious by now that institutions created by the colonial authority to manage Malay expectations produced unintended consequences. These institutions became instruments that would see greater Malay political, economic and social capacities. The creation of institutions – the FMS, the Federal Council, education, land and civil service – make the British administration accidental flag-bearers of Malay nationalism.

But if the twentieth century saw the rise of Malay nationalism, the century also saw the rise of Chinese politics of a different kind. If Malay political expression was introspective in nature and centred on Malay development, the twentieth century saw a Chinese political expression that was increasingly influenced by China’s political struggle. We turn next to the rise of Chinese transnationalism.

Chinese Transnationalism

Although this is not the place to discuss transnationalism at length, the discussion on Chinese transnational politics requires raising a few questions. Was Chinese politics in Malaya during the late nineteenth and early twentieth century that of Chinese transnational politics? If so, why did the British administration tolerate the growth of Chinese transnational politics? Also, was Chinese transnational politics in Malaya representative of the larger Chinese society? Finally, if there were indeed Chinese transnational politics, what was the nature of institutions that contributed to the growth of a powerful Chinese community? These are important questions, answers to which will help us distinguish different types of political expression present in Malaya during the twentieth century that led to the formation of Malaya’s two exclusive communities.

The term “transnationalism” gained attention in the 1990s and, thus far, studies on transnationalism have largely centred on issues of the formation of transnational social and political organisations involving migrant communities in North America. These works provide a useful framework to help us understand the issue of transnationalism in nineteenth and twentieth century Malaya. Transnationalism refers to “multiple ties and interactions linking people or institutions, across the borders of nation states”.¹⁵⁰ It is also defined as the set of processes by which immigrants build social fields that link their country of origin with their country of settlement.¹⁵¹ Immigrants who develop such social fields are called “transmigrants”. Put differently, transnationalism involves immigrants who have their feet in two or more places. They choose to live their lives across borders but make efforts at maintaining their ties to the country of their origin by developing identities and social networks that bind them to their birthplace.¹⁵² These social networks and relationships could come in the form of economic, social, religious and political organisations. Existing works on transnationalism among immigrants from the Dominican Republic, Haiti and El Salvador in the United States for instance, describe the various political, social and economic networks that transmigrants employ to maintain their links with their country of origin. There are basically three forms of linkages, which came in the form of institutional arrangements, that exist between the diasporas and their States of origins.¹⁵³ Some of these institutional arrangements include: the extension of the idea of citizenship by the mother country to migrants; the promotion of non-party immigrant organisations to allow migrants to participate politically in the affairs of their mother country and the promotion by the mother country for migrants to participate in the socioeconomic life of their place of origin.

What motivates transmigrants to establish social networks and develop identities that would bind them to their place of origin? One probable answer is that transmigrants are usually proletariats in the place of their host and in their country of origin. As such, their transnational tendencies could be due to the difficulty they face in constructing a secure cultural, social and economic base within their new setting as a result of economic and social dislocation.¹⁵⁴ In negotiating their new social and economic environment the transnational migrant “acts and reacts in ways that emphasise, reinforce or create cultural differentiation and separate identities”.¹⁵⁵

No existing literature on the Chinese community in Malaya has described Chinese political activities as transnational in nature. This is understandably so, given that the term “transnationalism” only gained currency in the 1990s. Though no reference is made to transnationalism, the activities of the Chinese community in Malaya had imprints of transnational politics. Wang’s (1970) work on Chinese politics in Malaya describes that Chinese in Malaya can be divided into three political groups which he defines as

Chinese A which maintains links with the politics of China and concerned with China’s political destiny; Chinese B which consists of the majority of the Chinese who are more concerned with the low-posture and indirect politics of trade and community associations; and Chinese C, which is the small group who is uncertain of itself because it is uncertain of its own identity, but generally committed to some sort of Malayan identity.¹⁵⁶

Wang contends that the majority of the Chinese fall into the Group B category saying that they “seldom openly engage in issues of national or international power” and that they “are usually content to work through established hierarchies, whether they be Chinese, Malay or British”.¹⁵⁷

Despite describing the majority of the Chinese (Chinese B) as pragmatic, Wang (1970) elaborates that this group were not apathetic regarding development in China when this was called for. Even though in the early part of his article Wang mentions that Chinese B “restricted themselves to a few discreet subscriptions to causes in China when hard-pressed by their enthusiastic compatriots”¹⁵⁸ in the later part of his article Wang suggests that Chinese B took an active interest in China’s politics saying that

there is ample evidence that they were moved greatly by events in China…that they engaged radical editors, paid for new schools and accepted radical teachers; most of them did not hesitate to help these editors and teachers when they ran foul of the colonial authorities, nor did they hesitate to send their children to study in their politically slanted schools.¹⁵⁹

Wang’s (1970) description of the Chinese in Malaya concurs with Yen’s (1982b) description of overseas Chinese. His description of the Chinese community again bears the imprint of transnationalism

It is natural for emigrants to feel attached to their mother countries, and Chinese emigrants were no exception. What appears to have been exceptional was their utmost devotion to their families in China… They expressed their feelings by contributing to economic, social and educational developments in their home districts. They raise funds for flood and famine relief, donated large sums of money to establish schools and colleges, and invested in railways, mining and industry.¹⁶⁰

The works by Yong and McKenna (1990), Yen (1982a) and Shoza (2009) also confirm the existence of Chinese transnational links such as the importation of China’s Kuomintang movement, the extension of Chinese citizenship by the Manchu regime, the setting up of political and non-political organisations and the appointment of overseas Chinese to official posts in China.¹⁶¹ These demonstrate that Chinese politics in Malaya in the nineteenth and twentieth century had transnational characteristics where there existed “intervention by the states of origins in the politics of the country of reception” and that there also existed “systematic forms of intervention by immigrants in their country of origin”.¹⁶² Indeed, Malaya’s Chinese community, in the nineteenth and twentieth century, saw the need to maintain transnational links with China and the nature of such transnational linkages will be elaborated below.

Several reasons can be put to the colonial administration allowing the setting up of Chinese transnational organisations in Malaya. First, the colonial administration tolerated the growth of Chinese transnationalism because doing otherwise would have been a costly activity. Curbing Chinese transnational politics by restricting or repatriating Chinese was not an option given the economy’s need for cheap capital and labour. British tolerance for Chinese transnational activities could also be due to the need to assuage Chinese businesses which were badly affected by the restructuring of the economy at the time. Chinese transnational activities also afforded Chinese taukehs to invest in China, especially in rail and tin mining. There were occasions when the British authorities attempted to repatriate Chinese political activists, but these were exceptions rather than the rule.

The colonial administration tolerated Chinese transnational politics in Malaya because they posed little danger to the administration. Chinese transnational politics was kept within the Chinese community and hence posed no threat to the administration. British officials still held the view that the majority of Chinese were sojourners and it was only proper for the Chinese community to be concerned with the politics of China. In 1902, British officials like Hugh Clifford made light work of the impact of the Chinese population, seeing them as mere transients reiterating “that the bulk of the Chinese inhabitants cannot be regarded as belonging to the permanent population of the states…”¹⁶³ Hugh Clifford’s assessment is unsurprising given the statistics at the time. In the population census of 1911, local-born Chinese made up only 23 percent of the population in the Straits Settlement, and in the Malay States the figure was marginally lower, only 8 percent of Chinese were local-born.¹⁶⁴ Hugh Clifford’s assessment reflects the views of the colonial administration even up to the 1930s. Even as late as the twentieth century, British officials never thought of the possibility of a permanent Chinese population. By not interfering in the affairs of the different communities in Malaya, in this case Chinese transnational ties, the colonial administration allowed for the growth of Chinese transnational politics that would give rise to exclusive institutions that acted as platforms for organised Chinese political expression. The early twentieth century would see a series of China-based social, political and economic institutions that had a hand in developing nationalism of a different kind – Chinese transnationalism.

The Manchu Regime and the Start of Chinese Transnationalism

Transnational links between mainland China and overseas Chinese in Malaya started in earnest towards the last quarter of the nineteenth century. Up until then, official transnational links did not exist. This is because the Manchu regime deemed overseas Chinese as traitors and overseas Chinese returnees would face persecution.¹⁶⁵ The regime punitive stance on overseas Chinese took an about turn towards the end of the nineteenth century. Impressed by the wealth of overseas Chinese particularly in Southeast Asia, a Ch’ing consulate was established in Singapore in 1877. The change in attitude was in part driven by the need to court overseas Chinese’ investment to resuscitate China’s economy and to prop the regime’s waning legitimacy. The first Consul General was Hoo Ah Kay, also known as Whampoa, a rich Singapore Chinese merchant.¹⁶⁶

In the coming years, efforts at raising China and Manchu nationalism gathered pace after the appointment of Tso Ping-Lung and Huang Tsun Hsien as Consul General in the late nineteenth century to replace Whampoa.¹⁶⁷ Consul offices were also set up in the other Malay States. Up until 1896, there were frequent visits by Ch’ing (Manchu) officials in the form of diplomats and special envoys. These visits involved maintaining contact with local Chinese communities, conducting fact-finding missions, maintaining links with the business communities and selling official titles and honours to Chinese business leaders.¹⁶⁸ Between 1890 and 1911, there were six major visits by Ch’ing imperial envoys to Malaya. These visits by the imperial envoys were often greeted by rich Chinese merchants, some of whom now assumed Ch’ing brevet titles, signifying their position as Ch’ing officials.¹⁶⁹ Gaining a brevet title was a coveted prize, for Chinese businessmen, as the title allowed them to get lucrative business contracts in China.¹⁷⁰ One example was Foo Chee Choon, a well-known Chinese millionaire in Perak and dubbed the “King of tin mining”. Foo was conferred the third-class official title and he was frequently called by the Manchu government for consultation on the tin mining business. He was also made the Superintendent of Hainan Mining and Agriculture in China.¹⁷¹

Other efforts by the Manchu regime at maintaining transnational links included the promotion of education and promotion of Chinese literature. In 1882, the Consul General set up a literary society, the first in Singapore and Malaya. There were also transnational efforts that included mobilising overseas Chinese support to raise funds to help famine victims. Southern China’s provincial governments, for instance, sent missions to Malaya to ask for financial support from overseas Chinese, many of whom came from the southern provinces of Fukien and Kwangtung.¹⁷²

Transnational linkages were further boosted when the Manchu Consul General, Huang Tsun Shie, issued ju-tan (passport) to all Chinese who applied regardless of their place of birth. Huang Tsun Shie’s move was not well received by the British authority, which saw the policy as an attempt to dilute Chinese interest in the Straits Settlements. The Assistant Protector of Chinese, G. T. Hare, expressed his displeasure at Huang’s move saying that issuing the passport would disturb “the harmonious relations that have up till now obtained between the Chinese colonists and the local government”.¹⁷³ In a quid pro quo move, the Straits Settlements authority granted Straits-born Chinese the status of British subjects based on the principle of jus soli. Despite British gesture, Chinese transnational ties moved apace.

One of the most significant initiatives of the Manchu government which has now become an enduring institution is the setting up of the Chinese Chamber of Commerce in 1906.¹⁷⁴ The Chinese Chambers served a special purpose for the Manchu regime, as conduits to raise funds and attract investment to an ailing Manchurian economy. All Chinese Chambers of Commerce in Malaya received the official seal from the Manchu government that allowed the Malayan Chamber of Commerce to communicate directly with China’s Department of Agriculture, Industry and Commerce.¹⁷⁵ First set up in Singapore, the Chinese Chamber of Commerce later expanded to Penang and Malacca and later to the urban cities of the Malay States – in Kuala Lumpur, Ipoh and Seremban.¹⁷⁶

Over time, the Chinese Chamber of Commerce became focal points for Chinese across dialect groups to negotiate and settle trade disputes. The chambers also assumed social duties and set up social welfare units, which included the Selangor Chinese Assembly Hall, the Perak Chinese Association and the Johore Bahru Chinese Association.¹⁷⁷ It is not surprising that the Chinese Chamber of Commerce produced prominent Chinese leaders who would play a significant role in the rise of China-based nationalism in the twentieth century. Some of the prominent personalities included Tan Kah Kee, Lee Kong Chian, Lim Keng Lian, Ho Pao Jin, Lau Pak Kuan, H. S. Lee or Lee Hau Shik, Ong Keng Seng and Saw Seng Kiew¹⁷⁸ some of whom would later be members of the Malayan-centred, Malayan Chinese Association (MCA).

To put things in perspective, the late nineteenth century saw the start of Chinese transnational political activities triggered by the Manchu regime’s aggressive policies and interests in building transnational ties.¹⁷⁹ Of greater import is that the inroads made by the Manchu regime in establishing Chinese transnational ties, helped lay the ground for the establishment of more Chinese transnational political organisations in Malaya in the coming years.

The Reform Movement and the Kuomintang

Malaya started to become a political theatre for other China-based political movements in the twentieth century. This was the period where China’s Reformist Movement and Kuomintang (KMT) nationalist movement started to make forays into British Malaya; these movements came on the heels of a severe political flux that was enveloping in Ch’ing China.¹⁸⁰

The Reformist Movement was led by K’ang Yu-wei. At the turn of the twentieth century, K’ang went on a road tour to Southeast Asia to garner support from overseas Chinese highlighting the political uncertainty of the Ch’ing dynasty and the need for reform.¹⁸¹ K’ang found ready support from Chinese in the Straits Settlements and the Malay States. Some of the leading personalities who supported the reform movement included Khoo Seok Wan, son of a wealthy rice merchant and Dr. Lim Boon Keng. Khoo Seok Wan, in fact donated some $250,000 in 1900 to the revolt movement in China that attempted to oust the Emperor Dowager.¹⁸²

To promote his reform agenda, K’ang established the Thien Nan Shin Pao, a Chinese news publication.¹⁸³ K’ang Yu-wei also set up the Emperor Protection Society or Pao Huang Hui in Singapore with the help of rich Chinese merchants led by Khoo Seok Wan. Though the Pao Huang Hui was not registered as a society it managed to promote its transnational activities by setting up a front organisation called the Hao Hsueh Hui (Chinese Philomatic Society) in 1889.¹⁸⁴

Besides K’ang’s royalist reform movement, Malaya also became the political theatre for another of China’s political movement – the republican Kuomintang (KMT) movement which initially went by another name, the T’ung Meng Hui. The T’ung Meng Hui was established in 1906 in Malaya and was set up as a result of anti-Manchu and republican efforts in China that began in 1901. This republican movement was promoted by revolutionaries like China’s Sun Yat Sen and Yu Lieh. Yu Lieh in fact fled China for Malaya in early 1901, where his political cause found sympathy with rich Chinese merchants in Malaya like Lim Nee Soon and Tan Chor Nam, all Straits-born Chinese. Yu Lieh and his political sympathisers in Malaya then founded an underground political party called the Chung Ho T’ang.¹⁸⁵ Lim Nee Soon and Tan Chor Nam also founded the Thoe Lam Jit Poh, a publication meant to promote the anti-Manchu revolutionary cause.

Malaya was instrumental to Sun Yat Sen’s revolutionary movement.¹⁸⁶ The movement found ready support from a large segment of the Chinese population and this included wealthy Chinese leaders and well-known personalities like Lim Boon Keng, Tan Boo Liat, son of Tan Kim Cheng and Lim Nee Soon.¹⁸⁷ Not all of the overseas Chinese, however, identified with Sun Yat Sen’s revolutionary cause. In 1906, Sun’s effort to raise fund from wealthy Chinese businessman in urban centres like Kuala Lumpur and Ipoh failed. The Chinese businessmen refused to be part of Sun’s revolutionary cause because they held brevet titles awarded by the Ch’ing dynasty.¹⁸⁸ One wealthy tin merchant in Perak, Foo Chee Choon who held the position as the Superintendent of Hainan Ministry of Agriculture and Mining of the Manchu government did not entertain Sun Yat Sen’s request; he certainly did not want to jeopardise his position by supporting Sun’s revolutionary cause.¹⁸⁹

Ready support for Sun Yat Sen’s anti-Manchu movement in Malaya made Malaya a focal point for the T’ung Meng Hui’s revolutionary push. The Singapore branch of the T’ung Meng Hui was pivotal in spreading similar T’ung Meng Hui branches in Siam, Burma and Indonesia. The Malayan branches also provided a refuge for Chinese who fled from China. In 1907, 400 Chinese soldiers found refuge in Malaya after the revolutionary movement failed to topple the government.¹⁹⁰ Between 1906 and 1910, there were 20 T’ung Meng Hui branches throughout Malaya (see Table 3.7). Though the official T’ung Meng Hui branches numbered only 20, the unofficial numbers were more as the movement took on various guises by using front organisations like the reading rooms or Shu Pao Sheh.¹⁹¹ These reading rooms acted as recruitment centres and conducted lectures to propagate anti-Manchu revolutionary cause. Between 1908 and 1911, there were 58 Shu Pao Sheh in Malaya. Besides reading rooms, Chinese publications became vehicles to promote the anti-Manchu cause. These included publications like Chong Shing Yit Pao (1907–1910), the Yang Ming Pao (1908), the Nam Kew Poo (1911–1914), and the Chi-lung-po Jih Pao (1909–1910).¹⁹² The proliferation of organisations that supported the anti-Manchu cause consolidated the KMT movement and by the 1920s, the KMT became a formidable organisation.

The KMT activities did draw the attention of the British government. In 1925 the British authority took steps to curtail the growth of the KMT with the British cabinet deciding that the “Governor of the Straits Settlements should be authorised to take the necessary steps for the suppression of the Malayan branches of the Society of Kuo Min Tang”.¹⁹³ The colonial administration dissolved all KMT branches and sub-branches and prosecuted and imprisoned two KMT branch leaders.¹⁹⁴ British clampdown on KMT branches, however, did little to stop Chinese transnational sentiment. In fact, the KMT movement took on another form, this time using various proxy organisations that made British efforts at eliminating Chinese transnationalism very difficult.¹⁹⁵

The examples demonstrate that Chinese politics in the early twentieth century were not directed towards a Malayan cause but one that was transnational in nature and directed toward China’s political struggle. Such transnational tendencies are to be expected from a largely migrant population. As Wang (1970) points out, the Chinese in Malaya “were primarily transient sojourners before 1900, increasingly settled after that, and almost entirely a settled population after 1945”.¹⁹⁶

Conclusion

The events that happened between 1874 and 1930 are important because they set the tone for Malaya’s political and economic complexion in the years to come. This chapter has reiterated a consistent British policy in Malaya; the management of Malaya’s significant actors to serve an overriding British economic objective without having to incur unnecessary political and economic costs. In managing the expectations of Malaya’s two communities and its own expectations, the colonial administration employed policies that created self-reinforcing institutions that led to the formation of two autonomous communities with exclusive sets of institutions. British failure to fully dismantle the Malay feudal arrangement led to British policies that while ensuring de facto rule did not injure Malay de jure power. Little did the administration realise that preserving Malay de jure rule meant maintaining Malays latent capacity that would see the community making more demands as provided by the law. British inability to remove Malay de jure power set off processes that raised Malay expectations, consolidated Malay political position, created a repertoire of Malay-based institutions, gave rise to Malay political expression and preserved Malay States’ terms of reference. At the other end of the scale, the administration continued dependence on Chinese labour and capital and avoidance of unnecessary measures that would result in upsetting such arrangements saw it co-opting Chinese business interests into the political and legislative structures of the Malay States. The twentieth century also saw the administration’s tolerance of Chinese transnational political activities. British tolerance of Chinese transnational politics produced Chinese political and social organisations and the gradual development of an autonomous Chinese polity.

It is obvious, that by the 1930s, Malaya was seeing the firm formation of two autonomous groups, each with its own set of political and economic expectations. British policies that attempted to manage the expectations of Malaya’s two communities had resulted in the formation of self-reinforcing mutually exclusive institutions that would prove difficult to unwind. In short, Malaya in the 1930s was a far different place than at the time of the Pangkor Treaty in 1874. This is set to change further in the coming years. We turn to this in the next chapter.

Notes

See McIntyre (1967, pp. 372–3).

McIntyre (1967, pp. 186–7).

7 July 1873, CO 273/61.

Straits Government Despatch 20 September 1873 cited from Purcell (1948).

Before his appointment as Chinese Protector, William A. Pickering was a Chinese Interpreter to the Straits Government in 1871.

Engagement entered into by the Chiefs of Perak at Pulau Pangkor, 20 January 1874, cited in Sadka (1968, p. 48).

Read McIntyre (1967) also Kennedy (1962, p. 157).

British control of the nine states that make Negeri Sembilan occurred in stages. 1885, the appointment of British collector in Jelebu and later in Rembau raised state revenue which attracted other states to want to adopt similar system that culminated in all nine states agreeing to form Negeri Sembilan.

Terms of trade is ratio of (Price of Exports)/(Price of Imports).

Traditional products refer to products such as rice, gutta percha, opium, rattans, pepper, gambiet, sago, hides, sarongs; modern products refer to coal, tin, petroleum, rubber, cotton.

Malaya’s commercial actors in the nineteenth and twentieth century can be divided into three groups. The first group consisted of large scale exporters and importers, the majority of these traders were Europeans, mainly British bulk traders who capitalised on their global trading connection. The second group consisted of medium scale traders who were mainly Chinese. They acted as middlemen, setting up retail networks in selling primary producers and distributing imported manufactured goods. The third group consisted of small scale petty traders who dealt business at the local level, by exchanging imported manufactured products with local goods. Initially this was dominated by local population but increasingly dominated by Chinese petty traders in the nineteenth century.

During the early period of the nineteenth century European mining interest failed despite having a technologically superior mining techniques. This was largely due to European business unfamiliarity with the local mining production. The nature of tin deposits (alluvial tin mining) made European mining practices uncompetitive when pitted against Chinese companies whose labour intensive mining technique fitted with the nature of tin deposits. Read Drabble (2000, p. 43). Read Perak Annual Report (1890, pp. 22–23).

Read Wong (1964, p. 149). Also Yip (1969, p. 151).

See Drabble (2000, pp. 43–44); read Wong (1965).

See Drabble (2000, pp. 43–44).

Tregonning (1967, pp. 17–19, 46–47) and Drabble (1974, p. 44).

Read Yip (1969, p. 152).

Jeffries (1956, p. 25). In 1827, the Colonial office operated from 14 Downing Street.

Eggerton (1919, p. 18).

Allen (1963, p. 8).

See Darwin (2009, p. 87).

See Fox (2008, p. 20).

See Fox (2008, p. 20).

In the case of Penang and Singapore the East India Company carefully deliberated the merit of such acquisition. Read Kennedy (1962, pp. 78–79, 94–96).

Huessler (1981, p. 4).

Secretary of State to Governor of the Straits, 22 April 1868, in CO 809/1 cited in Mills (1960, p. 64).

Carnarvon to Jervois, 13 September 1875 in PRO 30/6 – 40, cited in Cowan (1961, p. 232).

10 February 1876 CO 273/83, letter from Governor Jervois to Earl Carnarvon.

Secretary of State Papers no. 94, 2 December 1875 quoted in Parkinson (1960, p. 253).

Despach from Secretary of State, Joseph Chamberlain to Frank Swettenham in 1895 CO 882/10. This was quoted in a confidential letter by Clementi to the Secretary of State in 1932. Refer to 18 February 1932, CO 717/88/2.

Allen (1963, p. 1).

Darwin (2010, p. 130).

The Colonial Office was only interested in securing trade relationship and not quite ready for the appointment of a British political representative in the Malay States (Cowan, 1961, p. 159).

Hansard, 3rd Series, Ch.xxii, 586 quoted in Allen (1963, p. 4).

CO 273/42, minute dated 21 July 1870 on Foreign office to colonial office quoted in Allen (1963, p. 4).

Cowan (1961, p. 159).

Huessler (1981, p. 25).

Huessler (1981, p. 33).

Huessler (1981, p. 28).

Read Cell (1970) especially pp. 3–45. Also Huessler (1981) account of the civil service in pp. 24–48.

Read Heussler (1981) and Kennedy (1962, pp. 153–66).

In 1867, the first Straits Governor was Harry Ord. This was followed by Andrew Clarke, William Jervois, Frederick Weld, Cecil Clementi, William Robinson and Charles Mitchell.

Darwin (2009, p. 23).

Read Cowan (1961) and Kennedy (1962).

British officers who were appointed had short stint with not enough time to understand the complexity of the Malay States. These officers were on normal tour of duty for e.g. Harry Ord (served in the West Indies and Africa before Malaya, J W Birch (served in Sri Lanka), and Andrew Clarke (served in Goldcoast, Australia and New Zealand before Malaya).

Eastern No. 35, CO 882 – 4/773.

Birch was made Perak’s first Resident after having spent 30 years in Ceylon (Kennedy, 1962, p. 170).

Ibid., p. 171.

Purcell (1967, p. 75).

See Parkinson (1960, p. 219).

Lord Stanley to the Secretary of State, 14 August 1874, CO273/78. Cited in Huessler (1981, p. 35).

Jervois to Carnarvon, 10 July 1875 (Private) PRO 30/6/40 cited in McIntyre (1967, p. 207). Read also Cowan (1961, pp. 238–42), where he describes the colonial office displeasure of Jervois’s initiative to annex Perak.

It emptied the Straits Treasury and caused the colonial office to tap the Colonial Fund. Cited in Sadka (1968, p. 96).

10 December 1876, No. 218, Lord Carnarvon to Jervois in Parkinson (1960, p. 271).

Minute by Herbert Meade on Jervois to Carnarvon, 17 December 1876, CO 273/81; see also Sadka (1968, p. 95).

Hugh Low to Robinson, 28 May 1878, CO 273/94 cited in Sadka (1968, p. 103).

Under the Malay traditional system an assembly comprised of the Sultan and chiefs would decide on matters concerning foreign diplomacy, issues of succession and royal ceremonies. The mesyuarat bichara, was based on consensus where Sultan took into view the advice of the chiefs.

Jervois to Carnarvon 291 of 16 October 1875, C.1505, no. 49 and Jervois to Carnarvon, 62 of 10 February 1876, CO 273/83.

In CO 273/83, CO 273/90 and CO 273/91. See also Windstedt (1948, p. 69).

See Windstedt (1969, p. 69). Also Carnarvon to Jervois, 135 of 1 June 1876, C1512, no. 70; Jervois to Carnarrvon, 62 of 10 February 1876, CO 273/83; Jervois to Carnarvon, 88 of 22 March 1877, CO 273/90; Anson to Carnarvon, 201 of 23 June 1877, CO 273/91.

See Sadka (1968, pp. 179–82).

For more on secret societies in the Straits and the Malay States, see Blythe (1947) and Freedman (1960).

Legislation was passed in 1876 and a Chinese Protectorate Office was established in Singapore and Penang Huessler (1981, p. 151).

Purcell (1948, p. 151). If there was a precedent to the Chinese Protectorate in the Malay States, it was in the form of Chinese Kapitan. Kapitan Cina was first introduced by the Portuguese in the sixteenth century, after its conquest of Malacca and the Dutch to allow the Chinese Headmen to maintain their own community. These were Chinese merchants, usually linked to Chinese secret society and who were employed by Malay rulers to manage Chinese migrant population.

William Pickering was familiar with Chinese societies and business having been peace maker in Perak, Selangor and Sungei Ujong.

The Chinese protector had the power to decide on: custody and guardianship of women and children; divorce and separation; adoption and bethrothal; disputes as to charities and trust. In Purcell (1948) and Huessler (1981, p. 151).

Heussler (1981, p. 154).

Purcell (1948, pp. 152–3).

For instance, the period between 1879 and 1891, Perak saw a large surge in Indian immigration. In 1879 there were only 937 Indians. By 1891, the number of Indian migrants rose to about 14,885. In 1886, a Tamil agriculture colony was set up in lower Perak with 24 families and by 1889 there were 101 families working on 450 acres of agricultural land. By 1895, indentured labour through the Kangany system ceased except for Perak, which needed Indian labour to work in the sugar cane estates. See Annual Report, Protected Malay States 1874–1895. Cited in Sadka (1968, p. 327).

The number of indentured Chinese labourers dropped drastically between 1896 and 1897 due to depression in the Malayan tin mining industry. Read Reports on the Federated Malay States for 1897 C.9108, pp. 12 and 19.

The ordinance came a report that there needed a proper transit centre for Chinese labour to prevent labour abuse by coolie brokers (Sidhu, 1980, p. 8).

Sidhu (1980, p. 8).

Despatch from Resident General to High Commisioner, 2 February 1899 Desp. No. 26, CO 273/1899.

CO 273/245 Swettenham to CO, 13 March 1898.

31 December 1903, Acting Governor Straits Settlement to Colonial Office, Despatch No. 698, CO 273/1903.

Yip (1969, p. 67).

A substantial number of Chinese migrants to the tin bearing Malay States worked in the tin mines; in Perak 51 percent, in Selangor 52 percent, in Negeri Sembilan 48 percent and in Pahang 44 percent Pountney (1911, p. 64) cited from Yip (1969).

Krastoka (1982, pp. 268–9).

Report of Brigadier-General Sir Samuel Wilson, Permanent Under Secretary of State for the Colonies on his visit to Malaya 1932 p. 26 Parliamentary Command Papers 1932–1933[Cmd.4276] p. 40.

Low made amendments to the tax structure outside the state council after his meeting with two Chinese secret societies headmen, both of whom were members of state council (Sadka, 1968, p. 193).

Sadka (1968, p. 193).

Annual Report Selangor 1885, Sel/Sec. 2012/86.

Colonial Secretary’s Office to Acting Resident Selangor, 9 June 1876, Selangor State Secretariat. References 74/76.

Sadka (1968, p. 335).

Selangor Secretariat Papers 32/90 and 385/90.

Selangor Secretariat Papers 1208/90.

In a letter to Bloomfield Douglas, a certain Koh Hoon Bock, laments about unfair bidding practices. Selangor State Secretariat Papers, 9 December 1881 528/81.

In a letter to Bloomfield Douglas, a certain Koh Hoon Bock, laments about unfair bidding practices. Selangor State Secretariat Papers, 9 December 1881 528/81.

Letter from Governor William Robinson to Hugh Low, 9 June 1878, CO 809/18 in Cowan (1961, p. 52).

This came after the Panglima Kinta refused to meet during Low’s first week as Resident (Sadka, 1968, p. 178).

Demonstrating the growing influence of new actors, British appointment of Yusuf as the Sultan of Perak, was initially objected by one Khoo Boo Ann, a Krian Sugar planter who cautioned against the return of old times marked by the misgovernment of Rajas. In Windstedt (1948, p. 69).

Read Sidhu (1980, p. 119).

Sadka (1968, pp. 178–89).

Governor Weld to Kimberly, Secretary of State Colonial Office, 27 October 1882, CO 273/116.

Read Huessler (1981, p. 92) and Andaya (2001, p. 185).

Huessler (1981, p. 95), see minutes on Governor to Secretary of State on the 6 September 1892, CO 273/182; also Pahang Annual Report 1892.

The creation of the FMS was justified. Between 1889 and 1900, total revenue of the Federated Malay States rose 200 percent (Andaya, 2001, p. 184).

Despite the gravity of the federation, the treaty document was brief, about 40 lines and ambiguous and at times contradicting. British officials, sold the idea of the federation forcefully. The four Malay rulers (Perak, Selangor, Negeri Sembilan and Pahang) were also not given ample time to look into the details of the treaty. See Andaya (2001, p. 186).

Despatch from Secretary of State, Joseph Chamberlain to Frank Swettenham in 1895 CO 882/10. This was quoted in a confidential letter by Clementi to the Secretary of State in 1932, to persuade for decentralization policy in the 1930. Refer to 18 February 1932, CO 717/88/2.

Emerson (1964, p. 176).

The term Malaya was first used by Governor Frederick Weld in 1883 during a presentation to the Royal Colonial Institute. See Roff (1967, p. 91).

Reports on the Federated Malay States for 1897 C.9108 p. 3.

Reports on the Federated Malay States for 1897 C.9108 p. 4.

Minutes of the sessions of the Conference of Chiefs of the FMS held on 21 to 23 July 1903. Cited in Sidhu (1980, p. 119).

Minutes 23 July 1903 quoted in Huessler (1981, p. 100). See also Kennedy (1962, p. 238).

In Sidhu (1980, pp. 119–20).

Federal Council, High Commissioner address to the Council, 11 December 1909, Federal Council minutes File no 364/1910 in Arkib Negara. Archives.

Pierson (2004, p. 7).

Pierson (2004, p. 75).

Cited in Sidhu (1980, p. 119).

High Commissioner to Resident General , 16 December 1905, in High Commissioner to CO, Confidential Desp., 10 February 1906, CO 273/1906.

Sultan Idris is an example of Malay elites who benefitted from an improved economy. He was educated in Oxford, fluent in English and was the most outstanding among Malay elites in making political redress. Read Huessler (1981, p. 240).

See Huessler (1981, p. 240). Also Roff (1967, p. 198). In CO 717/39, 2 August 1924 CO 717/39. Also CO 717/34, 1 October 1924.

The new arrangement was prompted by the disagreement between Governor Guillemard and Resident General Maxwell, on the proper role of the Resident General with respect to his relationship with the Governor. As a result of the tussle between scope of power between Resident General and the High Commisioner, Governor Andersen, changed the name Resident General to Chief Secretary to reflect a more subordinate role. This appointment was abandoned after 1936.

Proceedings of the Federal Council, 1926, B55. Also in CO 717/55/7457, 13 May 1927.

In 1891, there was an attempt at safeguarding Malay land under the Selangor Land Code Under this code, no other community could buy or have rights over such lands. However, this code, was repealed and the amended code had none of the protective clause of the initial code. See Lim (1977, p. 18).

In 1908, a Selangor Committee tasked to look into the problem, pointed out that about 7,567 acres had been sold by Malays to non-Malays.

Minute by Resident Perak to Acting Resident General, 7 September 1910 cited in Lim (1977, p. 108).

Akers (1914, pp. 171–3).

The colonial authorities employed liberal land policy before the rubber boom, offering lands and encouraging planters to explore rubber plantations. See Lim (1977, pp. 34–35).

Federal Council Minutes, 9 July 1913.

Federal Council Minutes, 9 July 1913.

Various Annual Reports.

Selangor State Secretariat 108/80; Perak Annual Report 1883, Selangor State Secretariat 1880–1887, 2123/87 cited in Sadka (1968, p. 289).

Roff (1967, p. 97).

Federated Malay States Annual Report on Education for 1903 p. 5 cited in Roff (1967, p. 100).

Wilkinson to Resident General 24 February 1904, printed under para 18 of the Minutes of the Conference of Residents, March 1904, R-G File No. 422 of 1904 cited in Roff (1967, p. 100).

Roff (1967, p. 104).

Treacher (1907, pp. 503–4).

Federal Council Proceedings 1919, p. B45.

Director of Education, Annual Report on the Federated Malay States 1920 p. 13.

Education in Malaya, British Empire Exhibition: Malayan Series (London, 1924, p. 15), taken from Roff (1967, p. 141).

In the Report Windstedt states that Education for Malays had far exceeded what was required of them but “we can hardly come down from the position we have taken”. Windstedt Report 1917 cited from Roff (1967, p. 140).

Roff (1967, p. 142).

The college curriculum went beyond what Windstedt had in mind. Rather than just train teachers in agriculture, handicrafts and gardening, the college introduced literary education on Malay language and culture Roff (1967, p. 147).

The KMM was inspired by the Indonesian nationalist struggle and went underground to subvert the British colonial administration (Noor, 2004, p. 30).

Noor (2004, p. 30).

In the early years after the Pangkor Treaty, appointment of Malays into state administration was minimal. They involved Malay rulers and chiefs who were co-opted into State functionaries as members of the state councils and as officers such Assistant District Officers, tax collectors and village headmen (Puthucheary, 1978, p. 10).

The prime objectives of the Malay College was to prepare young Malay aristocrats for the civil service.

Roff (1967, p. 105).

Officers given training in “official Correspondence”, treasury work and promotion to the MCS involved several stages which could take a minimum of ten years. Read Puthucheary (1978, p. 11).

Memorandom enclosed in Despatch, High Commissioner to Colonial Office, 18 June 1917, quoted in Roff (1967, p. 107).

Annual address of the high commissioner, Federal Council Proceedings (1920, p. B65) cited in Roff (1967, p. 114).

See Roff (1967, p. 116).

Still, the appointment of Malay officer to the top scale of the MCS, the Class 1, would prove difficult. See Puthucheary (1978, p. 11).

In Roff (1967, pp. 117–19).

Clause 12 (viii) of the General Orders for FMS Government Establishments, as amended in 1923, provided that for posts requiring a knowledge of Malay but of no other language, preference should be given to Malays. Cited in Roff (1967, p. 118).

Federal Council Proceedings 1934, p. B58.

Roff (1967, p. 109).

Vertovec (1999) provides a comprehensive discussion on the different clusters or subthemes of transnationalism.

Schiller et al. (1992a, p. 2).

For a good introduction on transnationalism please read Schiller et al. (1992b).

Noh, Abdillah (2022, p. 223)

Schiller et al. (1992b, p. 13).

Schiller et al. (1992b, p. 12).

Wang (1970, p. 5).

Wang (1970, p. 5).

Wang (1970, p. 12).

Wang (1970, p. 12).

Yen (1982b, p. 398) see also Godley (1973).

Itzigsohn (2000) description is consistent with the claims made by Yong and McKenna (1990, p. 6) though the latter never use the term transnational politics.

Itzigsohn (2000, p. 1427).

Krastoka (1982, pp. 268–9).

In 1911 census, only 23 percent of Chinese in the Straits Settlements were local born; in the Malay States, only 8 percent of Chinese were local born. See Nathan (1922) and also Heng (1988, p. 10).

See works by Yen (1982a) and Godley (1973). There are other works that cite harsh punishment being meted out to returnees.

Hoo Ah Kay was also known as Whampoa named after a village in Kwangtung where he was born.

Yong and McKenna (1990, p. 6).

Yong and McKenna (1990, p. 7).

In 1894, for instance, the visit by an Imperial envoy, Ting Ju-Ch’ang was accompanied by four warships. What’s interesting is that Straits Chinese merchants were known officials in the colonial administration who also pledged loyalty to the Ch’ing government. See Yen (1982a, p. 413).

Yen (1982b, p. 411).

After China’s defeat in the first Sino-Japanese war in 1895, efforts were made by the Ching government to raise capital from overseas and efforts were made through Chinese diplomats, overseas Chinese leaders and special missions. Read Yen (1982a, p. 221) and Zheng (1997, p. 81).

Yen (1976, p. 33).

10th of June 1896, CO 273/218. No. 464.

Noh, Abdillah (2022, p. 224)

Yen (1982b, p. 414).

Yen (1982b).

Heng (1988) read pp. 19–20.

Heng (1988, p. 21) cited from Leong (1976).

Zheng (1997, p. 90).

At the time, China was suffering from the effects of the Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895, the palace coup in China where the Empress Dowager Tz’u-s took control from Emperor Kuang-hsu and the failure of the Hundred Days Reform.

See Yong and McKenna (1990, p. 8) and Yen (1982b, p. 416).

Yen (1982b, p. 420). Khoo donated the amount in support of the reform movement but a year later when the coup failed, he was disheartened and stayed away from the reform movement and in fact pledged his support for the Ch’ing dynasty.

Besides the reform agenda, the Thien Nan Shin Pao also provided a platform to the Confucian Revival movement which was led by Dr Lim Boon Keng (Yen 1982b, p. 406).

For a full account please read Yong and McKenna (1990, pp. 7–8).

Yong and McKenna (1990, p. 9).

See Yong and Mckenna (1990).

Yong and McKenna (1990, p. 12).

Zheng (1997, p. 208).

Zheng (1997, p. 208).

See Yong and McKenna (1990, p. 9).

Ting (1976, p. 135).

Yong and McKenna (1990, pp. 14–15).

1 July 1925, CO 717/45 File 30039. In Yong (1984b, p. 91).

Yong (1984a, p. 91).

Yong (1984a, p. 91).

Wang (1970, p. 6).

Appendix

Table 3.1 Composition of Straits Trade: 1870–1915

Year | Pre-Modern | Modern
1870 | 57.6 | 42.4
1900 | 58.9 | 41.2
1915 | 41.2 | 59.3

Pre-modern: Rice, gutta percah, opium, pepper, rattans, gambier, fish, copra, sugar, tapioca, arecanut, sago, coffee, hides, tobacco and sarongs.

Modern: Coal, tin, petroleum, rubber, cotton and textiles.

Source: Drabble (2000, p. 36).

Table 3.2 Distribution of Trade of Straits Settlements Merchandise

|  | Imports Form |  |  | Exports To |
Year | Malaya | British Borneo | Netherlands East Indies | Other SE Asia | Malaya | British Borneo | Netherlands East Indies | Other SE Asia
1870 | 10 | 1.9 | 16.6 | 16 | 4.3 | 1.1 | 18.2 | 19.3
1900 | 22.4 | 1.7 | 18.7 | 15.1 | 10.6 | 1.4 | 18.4 | 9.8
1915 | 30 | 1.5 | 16.3 | 20 | 14.2 | 1 | 14.9 | 5.7

Source: Drabble (2000, p. 37).

Table 3.3 GDP per Capita: Selected Asian Countries, 1900–1990 (1985 International Dollars)

| 1900 | 1929 | 1950 | 1973
Burma | 523 | 651 | 304 | 446
Thailand | 594 | 623 | 652 | 1,559
Malaya/Malaysia | 600a | 1,910 | 1,828 | 3,088
Singapore | NA | NA | 2,276b | 5,372
Indonesia | 617 | 1,009 | 727 | 1,253
Philippines | 735 | 1,106 | 943 | 1,629
South Korea | 568 | 945 | 565 | 1,782
Japan | 724 | 1,192 | 1,208 | 7,133

Source: Drabble (2000, Table 7.2).

a Guestimate.

b 1960.

Table 3.4 Malayan Production of Tin vs World Production

Year | Malayan Production | World Production | % of World Production
1851–1860 | 6.5 | 18 | 36.1
1861–1870 | 8.5 | 24 | 35.4
1871–1880 | 7.2 | 37 | 19.5
1881–1890 | 19.6 | 53 | 37
1891–1900 | 41.7 | 77 | 54.1
1901–1910 | 48.8 | 97 | 50.3
1911–1915 | 49.8 | 118 | 42.2
1916 | 47.2 | 119 | 39.7
1917 | 42.9 | 119 | 36.1
1918 | 40.1 | 116 | 34.6
1919 | 39.2 | 113 | 34.7
1920 | 36.9 | 112 | 33
1921 | 36.2 | 110 | 32.9
1922 | 37.2 | 114 | 32.7
1923 | 39.4 | 118 | 33.4
1924 | 46.9 | 135 | 34.8
1925 | 48.1 | 137 | 35.1
1926 | 47.8 | 137 | 34.9
1927 | 54.4 | 153 | 35.5
1928 | 64.5 | 171 | 37.7
1929 | 70 | 189 | 37
1930 | 65 | 172 | 37.8

Source: Adapted from Yip (1969, Appendix I).

Table 3.5 Number of Chinese Emigrants Arriving at and Immigrants Leaving Singapore and Penang

Year | No. Arrived at Singapore | No. Arrived at Penang | Total Number of Arrivals in Penang and Singapore
1877 | 10,000 | NA | NA
1878 | 34,000 | NA | NA
1879 | 35,000 | NA | NA
1880 | 47,000 | NA | NA
1881 | 48,000 | 42,000 | 9,000
1882 | 56,000 | 45,000 | 101,000
1883 | 61,000 | 48,000 | 109,000
1884 | 69,000 | 38,000 | 107,000
1885 | 69,000 | 42,000 | 111,000
1886 | 87,000 | 57,000 | 144,000
1887 | 101,000 | 65,000 | 166,000
1888 | 10,000 | 63,000 | 163,000
1889 | 99,000 | 44,000 | 143,000
1890 | 96,000 | 37,000 | 133,000
1891 | 94,000 | 49,000 | 143,000
1892 | 93,000 | 45,000 | 138,000
1893 | 145,000 | 68,000 | 213,000
1894 | 107,000 | 46,000 | 153,000
1895 | 150,000 | 61,000 | 211,000
1896 | 142,000 | 57,000 | 19,900
1897 | 91,000 | 41,000 | 132,000
1898 | 107,000 | 45,000 | 152,000
1899 | 118,000 | 51,000 | 169,000

Source: Compiled from Annual Reports, Straits Settlements, cited in Yip (1969, p. 68).

Table 3.6 Chinese Population in the FMS and Straits Settlements, 1891 and 1901

Federated Malay States | 1891 | 1901
Perak | 94,000 | 149,000
Selangor | 51,000 | 109,000
Negeri Sembilan | 15,000 | 33,000
Pahang | 3,000 | 9,000

Source: Report on the Census of the Straits Settlements, 1891, Singapore 1891; J.R. Innes, Report on the Census of the Straits Settlement, 1901, Singapore, 1901; H. Marriot, Report on the Census of the Colony of the Straits Settlement, 1911, Singapore, 1911; and A.M. Pountney, The Census of the FMS, 1911, London, 1911 cited in Yip (1969, p. 68).

Table 3.7 Revenue from Opium

Year | Total Revenue of Colony | Revenue from Opium | Percentage
1898 | 5,071,281 | 2,332,186 | 45.9
1899 | 5,200,025 | 233,426 | 44.8
1900 | 5,386,556 | 2,333,300 | 43.3
1901 | 7,041,685 | 3,747,269 | 53.2
1902 | 7,754,733 | 3,745,536 | 48.3
1903 | 7,958,496 | 3,746,659 | 47.1
1904 | 10,746,517 | 6,357,727 | 59.1
1905 | 11,657,423 | 5,368,939 | 46.0
1906 | 9,618,312 | 5,125,506 | 53.3

Source: Purcell (1948, p. 188).

4 The Years of Divided Affiliations (1930–c.1942)

DOI: 10.4324/9781003320548-4

The 1930s and 1940s saw huge changes to the political economy of the Malay States. The increasing complexity of Malaya’s political, economic and social institutions took place in an economy that was struggling to cope with structural changes and the slowdown in global economic growth. This was the period of the Great Depression that brought about a decided shift in British economic, social and administrative policies that had a huge impact on Malaya’s increasingly plural polity. A distinct feature of this period is the continued formation and maturing of Malaya’s autonomous communities that saw them developing mutually exclusive institutions. With growing number of Malay intellectuals, Malay political expression gained further traction during this period. A growing Malay intelligentsia – beneficiaries of British policies – played key roles in raising pan-Malay consciousness that saw them setting up numerous Malay social and political organisations.¹ This period also saw continued growth of Chinese transnational politics. The uncertain period of the 1930s and early 1940s would see a dense formation of Chinese political and social organisations buoyed by the consolidation of the Kuomintang (KMT) activities and the increasing prominence of the Malayan Communist Party (MCP), an organization known initially as the Nanyang Communist Party when it was setup by China’s comintern agents in 1929. These organisations became more active during the Sino-Japanese war of 1938 and the Japanese Occupation of Malaya that saw them appealing largely to a Chinese community that was still having strong transnational ties. Class struggle became part of Malaya’s political narrative during this period. Despite the proliferation of lefts organizations, a distinctive aspect of the Malayan class struggle is that it failed to develop into a pan-Malayan class struggle. Rather, class struggle took place within ethnic silos that only added to the repertoire of ethnic-based exclusive institutions. We turn now to provide a brief overview of the Malayan economy and British development policies that played significant part in shaping the character of Malaya’s political economy.

The Malayan Economy

The global economic depression in the 1930s served as a serious blow to Malaya’s economic growth as slower demand led to a sharp drop in commodity prices. Between 1930 and 1940, Malaya’s exports grew the least when compared to its Southeast Asian neighbours,² struck by reduced demand for Malaya’s two largest exports, tin and rubber.³ The sharp drop in global demand for tin prompted the drafting of the International Tin Agreement. To eliminate a production glut, the agreement required tin producing countries to impose quotas and restrict exports. The 1930s then saw three International Tin Agreements: 1931–1933, 1934–1936 and 1937–1941, where export quotas were imposed to limit tin production.⁴ Tin output in Malaya fell by 66 percent in the period 1929–1933, and the drop in output also saw the number of mining companies shrink by 25 percent. More importantly, employment fell by a massive 60 percent (see Table 4.1).⁵

Most affected by the production restrictions were small tin mining enterprises especially small Chinese mining companies.⁶ Given a high fixed and variable costs, the imposition of quota restrictions raised production costs for small mining operations, making it more lucrative for these companies to sell their quotas than to continue production. Companies that benefitted greatly from the selling of quotas were large European mining companies.⁷ By 1941, European mining companies dominated tin production, accounting for 72 percent of the total mining output.⁸

The Great Depression also affected another of Malaya’s important commodity, rubber. Before the depression, the Malayan rubber industry enjoyed huge global demand. Malaya was producing between 315,000 and 480,000 tonnes of rubber in the late 1920s. The period also saw the growth of small rubber holdings (see Table 4.2).⁹The sharp drop in rubber price in the 1930s created a glut in rubber supply. Similar to the case of tin, the drop in global demand led to the International Rubber Regulation Agreement (IRRA) where rubber producing countries agreed to impose restrictions on production and impose production quotas. The agreement stabilised rubber prices but it restructured the Malayan rubber industry by favouring large-scale operators and forcing small rubber holdings to shut down.¹⁰

The closure of small tin mines and rubber holdings created massive unemployment that particularly affected Chinese labour. For the first time, the fear of job redundancies and prolonged depression forced the colonial administration to revise British liberal immigration policy, which had been the main feature of the colonial administration. Changes in British immigration policy had a huge impact on Malaya’s demography and political economy.

The Great Depression and Immigration Policy

In 1928, the British enacted the Immigration Restriction Ordinance (IRO) to respond to a changing economy. The economic depression required that the colonial administration imposed restrictions on foreign labour “whenever the influx of immigrants threatened unemployment, economic distress or was not in the public interest”.¹¹ The Ordinance was a watershed of sorts because it marked, for the first time, British effort at rolling back liberal immigration policy which had been a centrepiece of British development policies in Malaya. The immigration policy imposed quotas on adult male immigration and the repatriation of unemployed Chinese and Indians, with the cost of transportation being absorbed by the British authority. The IRO took effect in August 1930, after it became clear that the global depression was taking its effects on the Malayan economy.

The IRO was later replaced by the Aliens Ordinance (AO) in 1933 which placed further restrictions on immigration. Under the AO, aliens were allowed entry only “in accordance with the immediate political, social and economic needs”.¹² The AO especially targeted the Chinese population. Under the new law, Chinese immigration would now come under the jurisdiction of the Immigration department, not the Chinese Protectorate Office. Registration of Chinese residents was also imposed to track their movements. Any Chinese who wanted to leave Malaya with the intention of returning needed to obtain a certificate to avoid being subjected to quota restrictions.¹³

The AO however only imposed restrictions on adult male Chinese; there was no restriction on female migration. Given the case, the movement of Chinese female into Malaya continued in the 1930s. Chinese female migration to Malaya grew apace, helped by several push factors, viz. the continuing civil war in China, the ensuing Sino-Japanese war in the mid-1930s, the economic depression and the slump in the Chinese silk industry, which left many women unemployed.

British restrictions on only male migration and non-restriction on female immigration changed the demographic profile of the Chinese community. The influx of female Chinese lessened the need for male Chinese to return home to set up a family that created, in the long run, a more rooted Chinese population. Over time, British policies on Chinese immigration changed the ratio of Chinese male and female that contributed to a stable Chinese population. In 1921, the ratio of Chinese women to Chinese men was about 3:10. But by 1957, almost 30 years after the AO was introduced, the ratio was about equal (see Table 4.3). More interestingly, by 1947 the number of locally born Chinese jumped to 64 percent of the total Chinese population, a two-fold increase from the 1931 figure (see Table 4.4). It would be obvious that by the late 1940s, there was little incentive for the large part of Malaya’s Chinese population to return to China. The stability of family life, the continuing political uncertainty in China, the morphing of Chinese transnational political activities into Malayan-centred ones after the Second World War and the start of the Chinese Communist Party rule in 1949 that imposed tighter entry requirements into China gave ample reasons for Chinese to treat Malaya as home.

The imposition of quota restrictions on tin and rubber production and British new immigration policies that restricted Chinese labour are consistent with British policies. While the IRO and the AO were rational British policy decisions meant to address Malaya’s immediate economic conditions, the policies produced long-term slow-moving changes to Malaya’s social, political and economic character. When viewed from a timeline – after almost 60 years of British official rule in the Malay States (1874) – British policy had irrevocably changed the complexion of the Malayan polity. British colonial policies had created a more settled rather than a transient Chinese population. The Chinese community however remained autonomous, caught up with Chinese transnational politics prevalent at the time. The effect of the Great Depression also meant that a large section of the Chinese community had become a separate and largely displaced group which would see them negotiating their terms in Malaya, especially with regard to citizenship and land issues. The next chapter will discuss how the colonial administration attempted to negotiate the issue of granting non-Malays citizenship rights, which was a major policy step to incorporate the non-Malay community into Malaya’s political economy. We turn now to another development in the 1930s that contributed to the change in Malaya – the rise of Malay nationalism.

Malay Nationalism in the 1930s

Malay nationalism, at least in the first half of the twentieth century, was unlike the usual nationalism displayed by many colonial societies. Malay nationalism in the early twentieth century did not call for the removal of colonial administration. Instead of attempting to dismantle the existing colonial system, Malay elites chose to work within the existing Anglo-Malay power structure by making use of apparatuses within the colonial administration to promote Malay interests. Put differently, Malay demands centred on fine-tuning existing British policies to take into account Malay concerns.

Some scholars view Malay nationalism in the early twentieth century as “Malayism” or “Malay awareness”, not nationalism. They take such a view because the issues raised were centred only on Malay concerns and that there was a lack of broad-based social, political and economic organization.¹⁴ Malay nationalism is described as “a defensive reaction against the virtual extinction of Malay culture” and the object of Malay organisations was really “to struggle against the economic and educational backwardness of the Malay race and enable it to hold its own against the immigrants”.¹⁵ At any rate, it is perhaps this peculiar nature of Malay nationalism – the absence of a vehement display of anti-colonialism and elites’ willingness to work within the existing Anglo-Malay power structure – that gave little reason for the colonial administrators not to accede to Malays’ political and economic demands. Accordingly, Malay demands – for education, land policy, civil service appointments – were all made using colonial-designed political apparatuses proposed by Malay elites who were part of the colonial bureaucracy.

Growth of Malay nationalism and Malay-based institutions was also aided by a British administration that continued to be persuaded by the need to preserve Malay de jure rule. Such built-in expectations meant that the administration had little reason to reject Malay demands, especially when these demands were clearly not targeted at removing British rule. Little did the administration realise that by acceding to Malay demands, the colonial administration played into the law of increasing returns that would see active growth of a dense Malay institutional network. But how could a dense institutional network translate to a cogent expression of Malay nationalism? Answering this question requires an appreciation that institutions experience material, technological, organisational and ideational changes over time and as they do so they generate new capacities.¹⁶ These new capacities would see more investments on the part of actors, provide them with a more systematic way of organizing and articulating ideas and help them in developing new mental maps that would lead to new expectations. Malay nationalism, for example, is the product of a series of creations and development of Malay institutions. British affording of Malay de jure power created new expectations and new demands that triggered series of institutional development. This took the form of Malay educational institutions, Malay participation in the civil service, the creation of special Malay administrative service, the protection of Malay land rights in the form of Malay land reservation in 1913 that brought about the Smallholdings (Restriction of Sale) Enactment of 1931,¹⁷ just to name a few. Accordingly, increase Malay capacities afforded by Malay de jure power and British colonial policies, produced increasing numbers of Malay intelligentsia and Malay social, political and economic institutions that, in aggregate, gave rise to Malay nationalism and in the process strengthened Malaya’s terms of reference.

The creation of a dense network of Malay-based institutions was also helped by the fact that Malay elites at the time held multiple appointments throughout their careers. Such multiple appointments allowed for a sustained and consistent transmission of ideas that encouraged the self-reinforcement mechanism. The founder of the Kesatuan Melayu Singapura (KMS), Eunos Abdullah, for instance held several positions. Eunos was the editor of the newspaper Lembaga Melayu. He was later appointed Justice of the Peace. He was then made a municipal commissioner and later the first Malay member of the Straits Settlements Legislative council in 1924. Another Malay personality who held multiple appointments throughout his career was Onn Jaafar. Onn was a Johor State Council Member in 1936. Before his appointment as state legislator, he was the editor of the newspaper Warta Malaya and Lembaga. He was also involved in the first Malay Conference in 1939 and later founded a Peninsula Malay Movement in Johor in 1946 before he established the UMNO. Ibrahim Yaacob was another Malay nationalist leader who took on leadership roles in different Malay organisations. Ibrahim headed the left-wing Kesatuan Melayu Muda (KMM) in 1939, and would also become the editor of the newspapers Majlis and Warta Malaya. This multiple appointment of influential Malay leaders across various organisations enabled the diffusion and consistent articulation of Malay demands across institutions that would, in turn, contribute to the creation of more expectations. The emergence of Malay intelligentsia during this period was instrumental in the development of Malay political expression. We turn to this next.

The Malay Elites

The creation of a dense network of Malay institutions that gave voice to Malay political expression would not have been possible without the emergence of various forms of Malay leadership came at the turn of the twentieth century. In the early twentieth-century Malay leadership became more eclectic, not just confined to the aristocratic class. Malay leaders now comprised of Malay-Muslim intellectuals who were trained in Islamic schools and were graduates of learning centres in Saudi Arabia and Egypt. These scholars were heavily involved in journalism, using publications as a vehicle to express issues dealing with Malay developmental needs and Islamic practices.¹⁸ They include the likes of Syakh Mohd. Tahir Jalaluddin Al-Azhari, Sayyid Shaykh Ahmad Al Hadi, Haji Abbas Mohd Taha and Shaykh Mohd Salim Al-Kalali, all of whom played leading roles in the newspaper Al-Imam, an influential weekly publication that started in 1906. The views articulated by these scholars were not only about political change but toward puritan Islamic practices. These intellectuals urged Malays to rid themselves of unIslamic practices in order to make progress, arguing that Malays were holding on to archaic Islamic beliefs and practices that had a mix of Buddhist and Hindu traditions.

In the coming years, the rise of a more eclectic Malay leadership led to an intellectual tussle between modern and traditional forms of authority, specifically between Kaum Muda (Young Reformist) and Kaum Tua (Traditionalist). The Kaum Muda in the likes of Syakh Mohd Tahir Jalaluddin Al-Azhari, Sayyid Shaykh Ahmad Al Hadi, Haji Abbas Mohd Taha and Shaykh Mohd Salim Al-Kalali had strong reformist ideas. They believed that one should not hold blind allegiance to traditional practices and accept traditional dictates without the use of akal or reason. One main flag bearer in propagating the Kaum Muda ideas was the Al-Ikwan. This weekly newspaper fashioned itself after the Egyptian newspaper Al-Manar, a newspaper known for its modernist and reformist ideas.¹⁹ The Al-Ikwan was scathing in his attack on Malay backwardness. In one of its publications, a writer lamented that

in other parts of the Islamic world...[the] Kaum Muda become the instrument of progress, shaking the Kaum Tua out of their senility and stupidity……(In Malaya) the ulama desire, like Saint Peter of the Roman Church, to hold the key to the gates of heaven.²⁰

The Kaum Muda was insistent on the need for Malays to do away with the adat (customs) which it deemed unacceptable in Islam. Some of its other contentions with traditional practices included the practice of interest payments which it regarded as usurious. Kaum Muda also advocated a more inclusive society where women could participate in education and social affairs. It also criticised the monarchy for its lack of leadership in helping Malays cope with political and social flux. The Kaum Muda distaste of Malay traditional authority is best described by the comment made by Haji Karim Abdullah, one of the leading scholars of Kaum Muda. Karim took a snipe at the office of the Mufti (State’s Chief Religious Officer) saying that

To become a government Mufti in Malaya is a great glory. You have an official uniform, with a whole banana-comb of epaulettes on the shoulder, a jubbah embroidered with gold thread, a silk turban and a car. The ra’ayat fear and obey you, eat the scraps from your table...²¹

The aggressive stance of Kaum Muda against traditional authority was matched by Kaum Tua. Being part of the establishment Kaum Tua employed state apparatuses to limit the influence of the Kaum Muda. The Kaum Tua imposed sanctions by issuing fatwas (religious dictates) forbidding Muslims to take into Kaum Muda’s ideas and branding Kaum Muda as kafir (infidels). In states like Kelantan, Kaum Muda’s views were countered by state-sponsored publication called Pengasoh. Kelantan also censured publications deemed to be sympathetic to the Kaum Muda’s cause and banned Kaum Muda religious scholars from conducting religious lectures.²² Besides the prominence of young reformist Islamic scholars, twentieth-century Malaya also gave birth to a more radical Malay-educated intelligentsia.

New Forms of Malay Elites

The late 1920s saw more strident Malay demands for political and economic resources and this was articulated by a growing band of Malay professional elites. These educated elites came from aristocratic and non-aristocratic backgrounds and were beneficiaries of British policies that gave them access to education and employment in the civil service. Unsurprisingly, the majority of Malay leaders at the time were members of the elite Malay Administrative Service and graduates of the Malay College and the Sultan Idris Training College. In contrast to the passive role assumed by Malay rulers in the early years of British rule, these new Malay elites were more assertive in championing Malay issues. Early figures of Malay leadership other than the Malay Sultans were Raja Chulan, the son of the exiled Sultan Abdullah of Perak, Tengku Musa’eddin, Dato’ Abdullah Dahan and Tengku Suleiman. All four were the first batch of Malay members elected to the Federal Council to replace the Malay Sultans after the rulers withdrew from council membership to take up membership in the newly set-up Upper House called the Durbar of Rulers. All of them, except Tengku Suleiman, were graduates of the Malay College.

Out of the four Malay Federal Council members at the time, two members – Raja Chulan and Dato’ Abdullah Haji Dahan – were especially active in articulating the concerns of the Malays. They were in their element when it came to issues of Malay access to civil service appointments and Malay education. In response to recommendations put forward by the Retrenchment Committee in 1932, which sought ways to reduce spending given the economic depression, Dato’ Abdullah Dahan wanted an assurance from the British government that Malays would be the last to be laid off. The request was heeded. Between July 1930 and December 1932, 4,100 foreign-born officers were retrenched and 1,198 local-born officers were laid off, out of which Malays made up only 541.²³

In the Federal Council proceedings in 1932, Raja Chulan pointed to the lack of new Malay officers in the elite Malayan Civil Service. He said that there had been only one Malay appointment annually, which paled in comparison to the numbers of foreign officers recruited during this period to the service. Raja Chulan argued, sarcastically, that the depression period would present the best “opportunity for government to take advantage of local ‘cheap labour’ which my countrymen can supply”.²⁴ He was given assurance from the Chief Secretary of the FMS that Malays’ employment in the elite service would improve.²⁵

There were also other personalities who later became prominent figures in Malay nationalist movement. One of them was Onn Jaafar, who would later lead a pan-Malay movement against the British-proposed Malayan Union. Onn took on various roles in his career. In the 1930s, he became editor of Warta Malaya and, under his leadership the paper’s editorial line was clearly pro-Malay. The publication discussed issues such as Malay underachievement and urged British authority to provide Malay access to top administrative positions in the civil service and better access to education.²⁶ Onn was later made a Johor State Council Member and in 1936 he accepted an offer to become an unofficial member of the Federal Council on the condition that he could exercise freedom of expression. In 1940 he made a cutting remark in the Federal Council, rebuking the British officials of double standards in their treatment of Malays in the government service saying

After twenty six years, we see not the equality of terms as between the Malays and Europeans in the service…[I]n matter of salary, housing, sitting of quarters, there is a complete disregard for equality of terms.²⁷

Besides Onn Jaafar, there were other Malay elites that stood out during this period and who led various Malay social and political organisations. These include Dato’ Hussain Mohd, a Malay college graduate and a senior administrative officer in the Malayan Civil service who founded the Pahang Malay Association; Dato’ Hussain is the father of Malaysia’s second prime Minister, Tun Abdul Razak. There was also Ibrahim Yaacob, a graduate of the Sultan Idris Training College and founder of the left-wing organisation, the KMM. Ishak Mohamed, also a graduate of the Malay College, was also a key figure in the the KMM. There was Tengku Ismail who founded the Selangor Malay Association, and a graduate of the Malay College.

What is apparent is that the late 1930s saw the product of British capacity-building policies. British policies that promoted Malay access to education and employment in the civil service were paying dividends in the form of an eclectic Malay leadership. Over time, this growing number of Malay elites gave rise to a visible display of Malay nationalism. They became active voices in promoting Malay development fronting various social and political organisations.

Malay Political and Social Organisations

The growth of Malay political and social organisations in the late 1920s and the 1930s was a response to changes occurring in the Malay States. The dismantling of a feudal economy saw a less-stratified Malay society needing to find new organisation. In the 1920s and 1930s, adjusting to a modern economy was made more challenging given a global recession and a restructuring of the colonial economy. Indeed, the rapid changes in Malaya’s political, social and economic landscape necessitated new leadership and organisation. Not surprisingly, the first Malay political/social organisation, the KMS or the Singapore Malay Union, was formed in Singapore, a place where Malays experienced intense challenges to their traditional lifestyle.²⁸ Formed in 1926 by Eunos Abdullah, the KMS’ objectives were: to pursue Malay social, political and economic interests by making representations to the British administration; to advance Malay progress in the political, economic and social fields; and to encourage Malay education.²⁹ In making their demands, the KMS pursued a centrist policy, preferring to work with the British government to further Malay interests rather than adopt a provocative stance. One of the KMS’s achievements was its ability to convince the Straits government to set up a Malay Settlement in Singapore in 1929 similar to the Malay Settlement (Kampong Bahru) in Kuala Lumpur.³⁰

More importantly, the KMS set the pace for the formation of other Malay quasi-political organisations in the Malay States. KMS’s success in Singapore saw the setting up of KMS branches in other Straits Settlements, in Penang and Malacca in 1937. The idea of a Malay organisation then spread to the other Malay States. In September 1937, a group of Malay professionals set up the Persatuan Melayu Perak (Perak Malay Association, PMA).³¹ The PMA was followed by the establishment of the Persatuan Melayu Pahang (Pahang Malay Association) on March 1938. In the same year, the Persatuan Melayu Selangor (PMS) was formed by Tengku Ismail, a member of the Selangor aristocracy. The PMS mooted various initiatives. One notable idea was the setting up of an educational fund to sponsor students for education in the Middle East and Europe. The PMS also requested the establishment of a Malay university and the expansion of Malay educational opportunities. It also asked for the formation of a Malay Regiment and a Malay air force. The PMS also demanded that restriction be made on migration from outside the Malay Archipelago.³²

The 1930s also saw the establishment of a Malay left-wing movement in the form of KMM. Founded in 1938 by Ibrahim Yaacob, a graduate of the Sultan Idris Training College (SITC), the KMM was an outgrowth of the Belia Malaya (Malaya Youth), which was a group established by students of SITC in the early 1930s.³³ Unlike the more centrist Malay organisations, the KMM took on a more provocative stance. It was both anti-colonial and republican in outlook and made scathing attacks on the Malay ruling class, claiming that Malay elites had gained much from British colonial presence at the expense of the peasantry. Ibrahim Yaacob saw KMM’s struggle as one that “neither professed loyalty to the Sultans and the British nor spoke of non-cooperation”. To Ibrahim, the KMM was a movement that was working for a nationalist struggle with support from the peasanty rather than aristocratic elites.³⁴ KMM was deeply influenced by Indonesia’s (Dutch East Indies) independence struggle and attempted to emulate Indonesia’s independence movements such as the Djong Djava and Jong Sumatra.³⁵ Such was the Indonesian political persuasion that the KMM contemplated political union with Indonesia to form Indonesia Raya. Later the party held another ambitious union, the Malaya-raya, which would encompass the Borneo States, the Dutch East Indies and the Philippines.³⁶

Despite its alternative narrative, very little is known of the movement. The KMM remained an outlier party failing to gain traction from the general Malayan public. One reason for this could be that the party suffered from incoherent policies. Its political message was inconsistent and its political ambition not well-articulated. Interviews with KMM members revealed that members were often confused as to the direction that the KMM was taking.³⁷ Even its famous founding member, Ishak Mohd, gave conflicting remarks concerning the KMM’s struggle. Contrary to Ibrahim Yaacob’s anti-colonial stance, Ishak said that the KMM had no desire to remove the British colonialists but served to “stop Malays being exploited by other races”.³⁸ Given the party’s inchoate ideas, KMM’s political struggle found little appeal from the larger Malay population. They found KMM’s anti-imperialist and republican stance difficult to digest. KMM membership was reported to be only a few hundred and confined to Kuala Lumpur. In fact, it had neither the skills nor the money to extend membership beyond Kuala Lumpur.³⁹ Although the KMM made little headway in mobilising mass Malay support, the movement is important because together with other Malay social and political organisations, the KMM represented “the ideological turbulence within Malay political thinking within this period”.⁴⁰ The KMM’s republican and anti-colonial stance contributed to more eclectic Malay political expressions and epitomised the ideological battle that Malays were going through as a result of the rapid political, social and economic changes.

The setting up of Malay social and political organisations like the KMS and KMM marked the changing nature of Malay organization. These modern forms of Malay organisations provided for a more egalitarian Malay leadership. Though in the early years, leaders often came from aristocratic families, membership-wise these new Malay organisations were inclusive in nature, not appendages of the Malay royal houses and not run along strictly feudal lines. The KMM leadership for instance came from non-traditional backgrounds; its leaders like Ibrahim Yaacob and Ishak Mohamad both came from non-aristocratic backgrounds.⁴¹ The KMS – set up in the Straits Settlements – also brought new forms of Malay leadership that came from non-aristocratic class.⁴² Such was the momentum of the formation of Malay political and social organisations that in 1939 the first pan-Malay National Congress was held. The novelty of the congress saw delegates making fervent initiatives among which included the call to setup a pan-Malayan Malay association called the Persekutuan Persatuan Persatuan Melayu Semenanjong Tanah Melayu (Union of Malay Associations of the Malay Peninsula). The congress also agreed to declare 6 August the Malay National Day or “Hari Kebangsaan Melayu”.

Such was the success of the first Malay congress that prompted the organisation of another congress in 1940. The second congress was a bigger meeting, this time involving delegates from the Borneo States of Brunei and Sarawak. In the congress, participants made even greater demand on the colonial administration. Some of the resolutions passed included the demand to preserve the Malay culture and for the Malays to take an active role in the running of the colonial administration. Also, affirmative action was not far off the mind of the participants. The congress raised the necessity of having a Malay to be appointed as Assistant Director of Education to give attention to Malay education. The congress also urged the colonial government to appoint Malay representatives in its entire external mission and to make English education available to Malays.⁴³ Besides Malay organisations, the changed political and economic landscape also saw the growth of Malay publications that acted as tools to voice Malay development.

Malay Publications

Malay publications gave an additional dimension to Malay nationalism. Malay newspapers in the twentieth century were more than just newspapers. They were described by Emmanuel (2010) as “views papers” as they became sites for the articulation of pan-Malay developmental concerns and Malay nationalism. This period saw Malay publications carrying “new forms of public opinion-making like the editorial, increased participation in the media through letters to the editor and contributors’ articles, public readings of newspapers, and the extension of newspapers into classrooms”.⁴⁴

One interesting observation is that from the 1920s, Malay “views papers” started to gravitate towards the Malay States, rather than Singapore and Penang; about the time when mass education in the Malay States started to produce more Malay professionals. The growth of Malay publications in the Malay States was startling. Between 1904 and 1917, for instance, there were no Malay publications in the Malay States.⁴⁵ This changed when between the years 1920 and 1930, out of 34 new vernacular newspapers, 20 were published in the Malay States.⁴⁶ Malay publications grew even during the Great Depression years. From 1930 to 1941, there were 81 new Malay periodicals and journals. In the period 1935–1936, alone, there were 25 new Malay publications.⁴⁷ Some of the prominent publications were the Saudara (1926–1941), the Warta Malaya (1930–1941), the Lembaga (1935–1941) and the Utusan Melayu (1939–1941).

These publications served to whip up Malay nationalism indulging in a fair amount of self-introspection on Malay underdevelopment. Well-known Malay scholar Zainal Abidin Ahmad, better known as Za’aba, epitomises the mood at the time when he criticised Malays for failing to keep up with the changed environment. His article “The Poverty of Malays” criticised the Malays saying:

[T]hey are not naturally of poor intellect, or incapable of high morals. Potentially, they possess such qualities as much as do any other people. But the actualised part of this potentiality is still poor to bear comparison with what we find in other progressive peoples in the country.⁴⁸

The seeds of asserting the terms of reference that defined the Malay States were firmly in place with the rise in Malay publications. Most of the views in the publications did not espouse the removal of the colonial administration. Rather they were demands that the colonial administration design ways to remedy Malays’ political, social and economic deprivation. In driving the message, comparisons were often made between Malays and non-Malays. One publication, the Saudara, highlights the advances made by the so-called “bangsa bangsa asing” (alien population) saying that:

...[T]he rate of economic progress of the alien population is in sharp contrast to the progress made by Malays who are still poor, backward and weak. These qualities should never be a part of the Malays, in their own land.⁴⁹

Throughout the 1930s, Malay publications rode on the theme of Malay economic deprivation vis a vis the non-Malays. This comparison had now formed a large part of Malay public opinion.⁵⁰ Another influential publication in the 1930s was the Majlis. Under Abdul Rahim Kajai – one of Majlis’ prominent editors – the Majlis was aggressive in rallying Malay issues, adopting the view that British authorities had the obligation to look after Malay interests no matter how discomfiting this may be to the other communities. Abdul Rahim Kajai had fixed ideas about Malay political and economic development and Malaya’s emerging plural society. In one of his editorials, Rahim Kajai wrote:

If they’re still dissatisfied, the government can inform these foreigners that the “protection” of the Malays isn’t like the protection of the deer in the forest by the game warden, who sees to it that the deer isn’t killed by hunters but allows it to be preyed upon by other enemies such as the tiger and other carnivorous animals living in the same forest.⁵¹

In the 1930s, Malay publications also fed on Malay fear of political and economic obsolescence. The various publications were never short of ideas when it came to reminding Malays of their marginal role in the political economy. The Majaallah Guru, for instance, carried a review of the book by British writer A. J. Toynbee. Toynbee was convinced of Chinese dominance in Malaya’s political economy stating that:

[T]he race for wealth and power remains between the British and the Chinese... But I have not the slightest doubt of the conclusion of this peaceful race: the Chinese will win.[….A] truly significant mark that the British Empire can leave in Malaya when she withdraws is the transformation of this country into the Nineteenth Province of China⁵²

The role of Malay publications and Malay elites in rallying Malay nationalism would not be complete without mentioning the Utusan Melayu. The Utusan Melayu was formed in 1939 by a group of Malay journalists, personalities who would later take on important political roles. Its founding fathers wanted a publication that “would be owned and financed as well as staffed by Malays of the Archipelago”.⁵³ Its founding fathers include Rahim Kajai, Haji Embok Suloh, Daud Shah, Yusof Ishak (who would later become the first Yang diPertuan Negara or President of Singapore) and Ishak Mohamed, who was one of the founding fathers of the KMM.⁵⁴

In its early years, Utusan Melayu’s articles did not veer too much from other mainstream Malay newspapers, touching on issues of Malay underdevelopment and the need for Malays to invest in education and to take an active role in Malaya’s economic development. At times, the paper made pungent remarks on non-Malays, particularly the Chinese. Some of its more scathing articles include “Orang Melayu di-perbuat seperti lembu” (Malays treated like cattle) and “Negeri Besar – Rakyat Miskin” (Great Country – Poor People).⁵⁵

The above demonstrates that a perfectly rational British policy of preserving Malay de jure power had created self-reinforcing mechanisms that over time consolidated Malay political expression and created Malay-based institutions. The formation of the FMS, far from emasculating Malay political dominance, contributed to a series of institutions that led to the growth of a pan-Malay consciousness and a more cogent Malay political expression and institutions. These institutions came in the form of Malay political and social organisations and the growth of Malay elites, and they were supplemented by a plethora of active Malay publications.

It became apparent that the voices of Malay nationalism in the 1930s were increasingly trained on Malaya’s terms of reference – Malay, Islam and the role of the Monarchy. The tussle between Kaum Muda and Kaum Tua, the political solution by the KMM toward a republican Malaya and the demands for more Malay privileges coloured Malay nationalism in the twentieth century. The rise of Malay nationalism coincided with a period where new actors – who had for a long time been incorporated into the political and economic structure – were also starting to make greater political demands, but of a slightly different kind. The 1930s saw increased politicisation of the Chinese community that saw a more active promotion of transnational Chinese politics by the Kuomintang and the MCP. Such politicisation of the Chinese masses would play a big role in defining Malaya’s future development trajectory, as we shall see in the next section.

Chinese Politics, the Kuomintang and Consolidation of Chinese Transnationalism

Chinese transnational politics continued throughout the 1920s and 1930s, riding on the momentum gained during the early twentieth century. By this time, Chinese transnationalism had produced a denser formation of Chinese transnational institutional network. Many reasons can be put for the continued attractiveness of Chinese transnational politics. The introduction of the IRO in 1928 and the AO in 1931 to limit the number of Chinese migrants made for an unsettled population. The economic depression of the 1930s left many unemployed that made the lure of transnational ties attractive. With the mining activities in major urban areas affected by a global slowdown, some chose to go back to China while others who chose to stay lived on the fringes of mining towns setting up squatter settlements. Economic desperation and an uncertain future drew many towards China’s political struggle. The Kuomintang and Chinese government continued encouragement of overseas Chinese’s support for China’s political and economic cause also contributed to the continued attractiveness of Chinese transnationalism. In 1929, China’s Kuomintang-led government issued a law on Chinese nationality stipulating that persons of Chinese race, wherever they were born, were considered Chinese nationals. Although there was the possibility of “denationalisation”, there was reluctance to “denationalise” on the part of overseas Chines due to the uncertainty of their residential status in Malaya at the time. Also, the strict regulations imposed by the Chinese government for those who wanted to “denationalise” served only to discourage overseas Chinese intentions to do so.⁵⁶ In the aggregate, Chinese transnational activities grew more pronounced in the 1930s. In fact, Chinese transnational politics picked up greater momentum during the years of the Sino-Japanese War of 1938. This was the time when the KMT movement in Malaya became an important arm of the KMT’s Nationalist Salvation Movement.⁵⁷ So strong were Chinese transnational ties that Ratnam (1965) describes that “one is struck by the complete domination of the community’s political life by external issues”.⁵⁸

Attempts by the colonial administration to curb Chinese transnational political activities proved ineffective. British efforts to curtail Chinese transnational ties were met with creative ways of circumventing restrictive colonial policies. In 1925, British authority’s crackdown on the KMT activities resulted in the formal dissolution of all KMT branches and sub-branches but did little to stop KMT activities.⁵⁹ The deep and extensive network of Chinese transnational political organisations saw the KMT coming up with creative ways to avoid the authority’s detection and this took the form of proxy organisations in the form of reading rooms, night schools and cultural bodies to promote its propaganda.⁶⁰

British authority continued curb on the growth of Chinese transnational activities. Softened in the 1930s after the Kuomintang formed the government in China. This saw the colonial administration coming under strong diplomatic pressure from the KMT government to lift the ban on KMT activities in Malaya and to allow the resumption of KMT branches in Malaya. In asking the colonial administration to revive the KMT activities in Malaya, the newly installed Kuomintang government bore vocabularies of transnational politics. The KMT government argued that it was wrong to ban the KMT activities in Malaya as the Chinese in Malaya still had a deep affiliation with China’s political development. In return, the Chinese government assured the British administration that the KMT branches in Malaya would not have extremist elements that could pose a threat to the colonial administration. In response, the colonial administration lifted its ban on KMT membership but still refused to allow KMT branches to be re-established in Malaya.⁶¹ Despite the closure of KMT branches, the KMT activities were far from over, even when a report by the Secretary of Chinese Affairs suggested a decline.⁶² The KMT employed various methods to sustain overseas Chinese interest towards development in China. In the 1920s and 1930s, for example, an increasing number of Chinese schools came under the influence of the KMT. Textbooks were imported from China. Schools had curricula that mirrored those of China and covered subjects such as Chinese literature, history and geography. In the coming years, Britain’s tacit “endorsement” of transnational political organisations fostered Chinese nationalism and contributed to a segregated educational system. This remained a feature of Malaya. Present-day Malaysia continues to employ a dual education system: a national school system and a vernacular system.

Containing Chinese transnational politics was made difficult by the presence of a number of key personalities, who had influence in the British administration and links with Chinese transnational political organisations. Straddling both sides of the political divide, these personalities made it difficult for the British administration to take a clear position on Chinese transnational politics. Take the example of prominent Straits businessman Tan Kah Kee who was well known to the British administration as a philanthropist. Tan was a leader of the Chinese Chamber of Commerce and was also highly involved in the KMT movement. Between 1929 and 1936, he was made an Honorary Adviser to the Overseas Affairs Committee at Nanking, the new capital of the Kuomintang government. In fact, Tan was conferred the Order of the Brilliant Jade, Second Class, for his services in China. But Tan’s affiliation was multifaceted. In December 1941, he was appointed by the British government to head the Chinese community in the government’s war efforts against the Japanese invasion. Another example is Teo Eng Hock. Teo was a wealthy Straits merchant who also founded a KMT branch in Singapore. Despite his links with the KMT, Teo was appointed Justice of the Peace by the British authority in 1925. And between the years 1926 and 1927 Teo went back to Kwangtung province and became the Mayor of Swatow.⁶³

The almost untrammelled growth of Chinese transnationalism and the self-reinforcing nature of Chinese transnational political activities in the 1930s made its removal challenging. Besides the KMT, the 1930s saw the presence of another movement that was attractive to the Chinese community – the MCP. In the period between the 1930s and 1950s, the MCP became an important political factor, one which the British administration could not discount in its policy calculation of Malaya. We turn to this next.

Communism in Malaya

Communism began to be a big part of Malaya’s political narrative in the 1930s. Important questions on communism and transnationalism remain: Was the Communist movement in Malaya in the 1930s transnational in character? why was the Communist movement in Malaya especially appealing to the Chinese community? and why did the MCP fail to develop into a truly class struggle movement but instead became associated with ethnic imperatives?

While there are no documents explicitly linking the MCP as an external arm of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), unlike the KMT movement which imported China’s KMT political struggle into Malaya, historical evidence suggests that there was a close link between the MCP, the Chinese community and the communist political struggle in China. There are evidences that early communism in Malaya drew its inspiration from China’s political struggle and that membership of the MCP, including its top leadership, came almost exclusively from the Chinese community. And in its efforts to obtain support, the MCP targeted the Chinese community by appealing to the community’s concerns about China and the Chinese community’s insecurity given their unsettled residential status in British Malaya and economic displacement due to the global depression.

Communism started in Malaya in 1925, as a result of the Soviet-Comintern collaboration in 1923, which encouraged the spread of communism to the Nanyang (Southeast Asia). In 1925, Chinese communist agents were sent to Malaya and used Chinese Hailam night schools, trade unions and youth movements to propagate communist ideology. The purging of the communists by the KMT leader Sun Yat Sen in China, and the breakdown in the Soviet-Comintern alliance in 1927, led to a reorganisation of the communist movement in Malaya. In 1927, five CCP agents were sent to Malaya for the purpose of establishing the Nanyang Communist Party. There was further reorganisation of the movement in later years. In 1930, the Nanyang Communist Party was dissolved and replaced by the MCP.⁶⁴

In the early 1930s, the MCP made little headway in garnering broad support. Unlike the KMT, which had wealthy Chinese towkays in its ranks, the MCP could not tap on the influential Chinese business organisations for support. It drew its support mainly from Chinese youth movements and labour unions. Only in the second half of the 1930s did the MCP manage to mobilise significant influence using labour unions to stir up support and stage mass agitation. In 1936, it took advantage of a recovering economy and high tin and rubber prices by organising labour agitation to demand wage increase using its labour arm, the Malayan General Labour Union.⁶⁵ The strikes were sporadic and carried out in various strategic locations in Perak and several tin mining areas in Selangor.⁶⁶ The MCP’s efforts, however, failed to trigger wider unrest. The failure was due to two reasons: first is that the MCP lacked organisation and control over the unions and second, the labour union movement was still nascent and had little support especially given a recovering economy. The MCP’s militant posture and involvement in the labour unrests, however, moved the British authority to crack down on its activities. In the period 1930–1938, nearly 30 of MCP’s top party officials were deported to China under the Banishment Ordinance.⁶⁷

The Sino-Japanese war in China, however, gave the MCP the much-needed platform to raise its profile.⁶⁸ The MCP used overseas Chinese concerns about China’s political development to great advantage.⁶⁹ In 1935 the MCP established an anti-Japanese movement in Malaya prompted by initiatives made at the Seventh Comintern Congress in China that same year. In the following year, seven communist agents from China were sent to Malaya to help establish the anti-Japanese movement. In 1937 the MCP set up the Overseas Chinese Anti-Japanese National Salvation Association, an exclusive movement open to Chinese of all political views, to aid China’s war with Japan.⁷⁰ The MCP also set up the Overseas Chinese Anti-Enemy Backing-Up Society (AEBUS) to rival that of Tan Kah Kee’s KMT-linked China Relief Fund Committee.⁷¹ The setting up of AEBUS led to the establishment of numerous other Backing-Up Societies linked to the MCP. These were Chinese organisations ranging from shopkeepers’ associations to youth movements (see Table 4.5). During the years 1937–1941, these organisations became part of the movement that stirred up mass agitation, which included industrial unrest, active propagation of communist ideology to the working class and aggressive recruitment of new members. One of the MCP’s moves at stirring up support included calls to boycott Japanese goods, which gained wide appeal from the Chinese community, in particular Chinese businesses. In the years leading up to the Sino-Japanese war, the MCP organised tours to Chinese schools and brought in speakers from China to talk about China’s current struggle in Shanghai and parts of China. It also set up branches in areas with large concentrations of Chinese, with these branches doubling up as a form of social organisation for the Chinese community.⁷²

The examples above show the extent of the MCP’s efforts to appeal to Chinese transnational tendencies for wider membership, and that the best way to do this was to ride on overseas Chinese anti-Japanese sentiment. The MCP’s efforts paid off as the party saw growing membership. Its members however were largely China-born and Chinese-educated comprising of workers, union leaders, shopkeepers, teachers and journalists. The party was especially appealing to Chinese-educated scholars who left China after they failed to secure administrative positions in China. The MCP was also attractive to Chinese workers, the group most affected by the depression and who saw in the MCP an organisation that was capable of providing them with support, akin to earlier Chinese organisations, the kongsis.⁷³

The MCP’s disproportionate preoccupation to build-up support from the Chinese community would come at a political cost in the future. The party’s zealousness in championing Chinese transnational politics meant that it gave little priority to obtaining membership from Malaya’s other communities. The MCP’s wide appeal to the Chinese community “increased the tendency of all racial groups to consider the MCP a Chinese activity”⁷⁴ and “created a racial barrier that made it increasingly difficult for Indians and Malays to accept the idea of joining a predominantly Chinese party”.⁷⁵

The MCP’s image as a Chinese party was entrenched by the expectations of its own members. MCP members saw little need to appoint non-Chinese into leadership roles because they “came to recognise that those Indians and Malays who joined them were outcasts from their racial communities and generally misfits with extremely limited abilities”.⁷⁶ Such remarks reinforced future expectations as even the mode of communication within the MCP was in Chinese. As Pye (1956) points out

Efficiency required that the language used in the party be Chinese, and since good communications were maintained with the Chinese Communist Party, the great bulk of Communist literature available in Malaya was in Chinese.⁷⁷

The MCP’s inability or its lack of foresight to recruit non-Chinese proved costly. Its exclusive priority towards the Chinese community merely ended up in the party being part of a repertoire of exclusive Chinese institutions. Increasingly, the conduct of the MCP was seen by the Malayan public not as an “ideological”, a “Malayan” or a class movement, but as a movement that strongly identified itself in furthering Chinese interest. This would have consequences when the MCP attempted to negotiate across the institutional divide that existed between Malaya’s autonomous communities in the post-war years which I will describe in the next chapter.

Increasing returns and path dependence suggest that unwinding Chinese transnational links would be a challenge. Understandably, it was also during this period that the colonial administration started to tinker with the possibility of weaning off Chinese community’s transnational ties by looking at the possibility of granting Chinese, Malayan citizenship. This was a major step as it symbolises for the first time, British concern on the need for Malaya to reconcile the presence of autonomous communities with exclusive institutions.

Transnationalism and Citizenship

The 1930s saw the colonial administration exploring ways to curb Chinese transnational politics. In the 1930s, the British authority mulled over the idea of Malayan citizenship for Chinese. In 1931, the British wanted to declare all Chinese born in Malaya as “British Protected Persons” and to effectively nullify overseas Chinese status as Chinese nationals. The plan, however, was abandoned because such a policy contravened International Law.⁷⁸ In 1935, the colonial administration revisited the idea. This time, the British Foreign Office tinkered with the possibility that “pressure could be applied on the rulers to approve the necessary legislation (and to make) local-born Chinese their subjects”.⁷⁹ This plan did not take off.

Noting the difficulty of convincing Malay rulers to implement such legislation, the Colonial Office came up with another plan: to convince the Malay rulers to allow the British government a limited grant of jurisdiction that would allow the authority to declare Chinese born in or resident in Malaya as British Protected Persons.⁸⁰ In 1936, the Colonial Office instructed Shenton Thomas to discuss issues of nationality with Malay rulers including the possibility of changing state nationality legislation.⁸¹ In 1939, Shenton Thomas reported that it was difficult as the laws in the Malay State stipulated that nationals must be of the Malay race and that in the case of the Chinese community, it was “not easy to see anyone can prove that he-or she- is of Malay race”.⁸² Clearly, the move to grant Chinese Malayan citizenship was the quickest option to delink Chinese transnational affiliation. But the roadblock to granting citizenship, given the existing laws in the Malay States, made the issue of Chinese transnational politics a continuing challenge.

Putting into perspective, the British proposal to grant Malayan citizenship to Chinese in the 1930s is consistent with this book’s path-dependent argument. The political and economic dominance of the Chinese community gave rise to new expectations and necessitated the need to incorporate and engage the Chinese community into Malaya’s political structure. In the coming years – after the Japanese war – the British authority again attempted to grant citizenship to Chinese. The Malayan Union and the various negotiations that culminated in the Federal Constitution were all efforts to negate transnational ties and to grant citizenship to non-Malays.

Conclusion

Up until now, we have attempted to paint a coherent picture of the formation of two autonomous groups, with mutually exclusive sets of institutions. We have described how rational British policy (given the institutionally short-term horizons of British administrators) that attempted to preserve Malay de jure power (because it would have been overwhelmingly costly to use force to dismantle it) had unintendedly created Malay nationalism with its own set of institutions and expectations. This chapter has also described that British policies in the 1930s continued to incorporate the Chinese into the political economy (also the consequence of perfectly rational British strategy of earlier periods) that inadvertently gave rise to the formation of a powerful Chinese autonomous community that had institutions with strong transnational linkages. This chapter has also described the extent to which the exclusive institutions of both communities were reinforced over time in a manner that produced dense institutional networks that further consolidated mutually exclusive sets of institutions. In analysing these exclusive institutions an important point to note is that while the array of Malay-based institutions was directed towards consolidating or challenging the terms of reference that define the Malay States (Malay, Islam and Monarchy), the same cannot be said of Chinese-based institutions whose institutions were externally directed, typical of transnational organisations. These preferences however would change in the coming years given political development in China and changing demographics that saw a more settled Chinese community.

Nonetheless, the formation of two autonomous groups with mutually exclusive ethnic institutions would in the coming years find themselves facing the challenge of attempting to find the best arrangement that could reconcile their mutually exclusive sets of interest. The post-war years would see, for the first time, Malaya’s two autonomous groups seeking various institutional permutations that could best distribute political and economic resources, bridge the institutional divide and reconcile contrasting demands on Malaya’s terms of reference. As it turned out, these attempts were far from smooth that would set the tone to Malaysia’s political and economic character in the years to come. We turn to this in the next chapter.

Notes

Emmanuel (2010).

Drabble (2000, p. 125). Refer to Table 8.1.

The great depression brought down the price of tin from a high of £289 per ton to a low of £142 – the lowest price registered since 1909 (Yip, 1969, p. 264).

It took 15 months for Malaya to clear its tin surplus after the first agreement.

Yip (1969, pp. 206–8).

Given the tin industry’s large cost fixed cost, the restraint in production would only increase cost of production.

Yip (1969, p. 208).

Drabble (2000, p. 131).

Drabble (2000, p. 129) cites these figures for Malaya as well as Sabah and Sarawak, but since 96 percent of production came from Malaya itself, the figures reflect rubber production in Malaya.

Small rubber holders complained that the formula for the distribution of production gave unfair advantage to large scale European firms. These rubber restrictions are discussed in great detail in Lim (1977), Yip (1969) and Drabble (2000).

Parmer (1960, p. 92).

In Parmer (1960, p. 93).

See Kaur (2006, p. 14).

Khoo (1974, pp. 189–90). See Smith (2006, p. 124).

Silcock (1953, p. 285).

Pierson (2004, p. 74).

The enactment protected Malay land owners and helped them restructure their debts as it “granted a twelve month stay of execution of a court order for sale, provided that payment of at least 75 percent of the interest owed was maintained,” in (Gibson, 1934). There is a further clause to the bill which states that “any sale, at the insistence of creditors of lands comprised in a small holding can only take place with the consent of the Ruler of the State in Council”. For more details, Federal Council Proceedings B17-18 and in (Gibson, 1934) Enactment No.8 of 1931.

The first Malay Muslim publication was the Jawi Peranakan, established in Singapore in 1876. The Jawi Peranakan was followed by 16 other Malay publications by the end of the nineteenth century (Roff, 1967, pp. 49–50).

In fact, one of its editor, Syakh Mohd Tahir b. Jaluddin was a close friend of Mohamad Rashid Ridha who founded the Al-Manar. Syakh Mohd Tahir also made frequent contribution to Al-Manar (Roff, 1967, p. 61).

Abu Al-Murtadzi, “Kaum Muda dan Kaum Tua: Dunia Islam” Al Ikhwan 3 October 1928 cited in Roff (1967, p. 78).

Hamka (1950, p. 59) cited in Roff (1967, p. 67).

Roff (1967) provides a comprehensive account of the several measures taken by Kaum Tua in restricting Kaum Muda teaching. For instance the works by Ahmad Nawawi Mohd Ali were refused permits by the religious authorities of Perak and that the states of Perak, Negeri Sembilan and Selangor invoke Mohamedan law enanctment to curb the propagation of Kaum Muda’s teaching.

Roff (1967, p. 203). See also footnote.

Federal Council Proceedings 1932. p. B16 and B57.

Roff (1967, p. 203).

Roff (1967, p. 170).

In Hidop Melayu (Ipoh) p. 27 cited in Soenarno (1960, p. 13).

Silcock (1953, p. 285).

Soenarno (1960, p. 10). Read also Weiss (2005).

Eunos request was initially turned down in 1927. In 1929 the colonial administration eventually gave in to Eunos’ request, granting the establishment of Kampong Melayu. Legislative Council Proceedings, 1927 pp. B24–B25, B35.

Read Roff (1968, p. 117).

Roff (1967, pp. 239–42).

Soenarno (1960a).

Ibrahim Yaacob, Nusa dan Bangsa Melayu (Malay Country and People), Djakarta, 1957 pp. 59–60 cited in Roff (1967, p. 222).

Soenarno (1960, p. 18).

Noor (2004, pp. 32–33).

Roff (1967, p. 232).

Roff (1967, p. 232).

Roff (1967, p. 234).

Smith (2006, p. 124).

Roff (1967, pp. 236–8).

The KMS founding fathers like Eunos Abdullah, Yusof Ishak and Embuk Suloh all came from non-aristocratic families.

Silcock (1953, p. 285).

Emmanuel (2010, p. 1).

Roff (1961, pp. 1–6).

Roff (1961 #369}, pp. 1–6).

Roff (1967, p. 166).

Malay Mail, 1 December 1923.

Saudara, 15 October 1932.

Saudara 9 May 1931, cited in Khoo (1981, p. 101).

Majlis, 17 December 1931.

Majallah Guru, March 1930 pp. 47–48, cited in Soernarno (1960, p. 12). Also in Toynbee (1931, p. 156). Also cited in Emerson (1964).

Roff (1967, p. 174).

The Utusan Melayu was founded in 1939 after a group of Malay activists wanted a publication that “would be owned and financed as well as staffed by Malays of the Archipelago”. They raised $12,5000 mainly from ordinary Malays – taxi drivers, hawkers and small farmers. See Roff (1967, pp. 174–6).

31 May 1939 and 1 June 1939.

To “denationalize” the Chinese government impose conditions that the applicant must give the complete details of the place his ancestors were born in China. On top that he had to secure two mercantile guarantors to testify that he had no military service liabilities. Denationalisation was not allowed for Chinese “who has attained military age, is not exempted from military service, and has not yet served in the army” Minute by Edward Gent, 7 October 1941, CO 323/1626 no. 2255/3 cited in Lau (1989, p. 218).

Yong (1977, p. 198).

Ratnam (1965, p. 12).

CO 717/45 File 30039, Cabinet 32(25): Extract from Conclusions of a meeting held on a Wednesday 1 July 1925, p. 256.

l July 1925, CO 717/45 File 30039. In Yong (1984b, p. 91).

Ratnam (1965, p. 12).

See Monthly Review of Chinese Affairs, August 1934 in CO 273/597.

Yong and McKenna (1990).

Brimmel (1956) provides a good account of the origins of the communist party in Malaya.

Pye (1956, p. 60) see also Brimmel (1956, p. 12).

Pye (1956, p. 60).

Monthly Review of Chinese Affairs, 96 (August 1938) in CO 273/646. Also see CO 273/646, File no. 50500/38, the Governor SS to Malcolm Macdonald, Colonial Office, 5 October 1938 cited in Yong (1977, p. 200).

Monthly Review of Chinese Affairs, 96 (August 1938) in CO 273/646. Also see CO 273/646, File no. 50500/38, the Governor SS to Malcolm Macdonald, Colonial Office, 5 October 1938 cited in Yong (1977, p. 200).

The late 1930s saw the MCP raising its “ideological level” which helped to raise its appeal Pye (1956, p. 59).

Brimmel (1956, p. 12).

Yong (1977, p. 201).

Pye (1956, pp. 63–64).

See Pye (1956, pp. 53–54).

Pye (1956, p. 57).

Pye (1956, p. 57).

Pye (1956, p. 57).

Pye (1956, pp. 57–58).

Clementi to Cinliffe-Lister, 3 March 1932, CO 323/1177 no. 90297; also G R Warner (FO) to R V Vernon, 1 June 1933 no. 90297) cited in Lau (1989, p. 218).

Cowell to Beckett, 20 February 1936, CO 323/1262 no. 30330/3).

Lau (1989, p. 219).

10 August 1936, Ormsby-Gore to Thomas Shenton, CO 323/1364 no. 2255/3.

28 June 1939, Shenton Thomas to Malcolm Macdonald CO 323/1626 no. 2255/3.

Appendix

Table 4.1 Tin Production and Employment

| Average Tin Price | Production | Employment
Year | £Per Ton | % Change | Tons | % Change | Number | % Change
1929 | 204 | …. | 70,000 | …. | 104,000 | ….
1930 | 142 | −30.4 | 65,000 | −7.1 | 81,000 | −22.1
1931 | 119 | −16.2 | 53,000 | −18.5 | 57,000 | −29.6
1932 | 136 | +12.5 | 28,000 | −47.2 | 44,000 | −22.8
1933 | 195 | +30.3 | 24,000 | −14.3 | 43,000 | −2.3

Source: Adapted from Yip (1969, Appendix 1).

Table 4.2 Rubber Prices and Output

Year | Rubber Prices (cents/lbs) | Output
1918 | 64.3 | NA
1919 | 80.7 | NA
1920 | 75.7 | 105,557
1921 | 31.1 | NA
1922 | 28.8 | NA
1923 | 51.2 | 66,685
1924 | 49 | 54,077
1925 | 114 | 65,158
1926 | 80.5 | 112,547
1927 | 64.3 | 92,289
1928 | 36.8 | 100,233
1929 | 34.6 | 144,578
1930 | 19.1 | 140,789
1931 | 9.8 | 141,457
1932 | 7 | 140,525
1933 | 10.2 | 137,363
1934 | 20.6 | 147,417
1935 | 20.2 | 133,067
1936 | 27 | 125,005
1937 | 32.1 | 166,255
1938 | 24.1 | 129,728
1939 | 31 | 243,000

Source: Jomo (1986, Table 6.1, pp. 158–60).

Table 4.3 Chinese – Females per Thousand Males

1911 | 215
1921 | 371
1931 | 486
1947 | 815
1957 | 926

Source: Ratnam (1965, p. 8).

Table 4.4 Chinese – Locally Born (Percent)

1921 | 20.9
1931 | 29.9
1947 | 63.5
1957 | 74.5

Source: Ratnam (1965, p. 9).

Table 4.5 List of MCP-led Front Organisation

The Chung Hwa National Salvation Society

The Chung Hwa National Salvation Backing-Up Society

The Singapore Overseas Chinese Anti-Japanese Mobilisation Society

Resist-the-Enemy and Exterminate the Traitors Volunteer Corps

The Singapore Shop Assistants Resist-the-Enemy Backing-Up Society

The Overseas Chinese Youths National Salvation and Exterminate the Traitors Volunteer Corps

The Singapore Overseas Chinese all Circles Resist-the-Enemy Backing-Up Society

Malayan Chinese Vocational Workers’ Anti-Enemy Backing Society

Malayan Labourers Anti-Japanese Corps

The Malayan Chinese National Salvation Corps

Exterminate the Traitors Corps and Mobile Troops

The Iron and Blood Corps

The Racial Revival Corps

The Chinese Anti-Enemy National Salvation Traitor Removing Corps

The Malayan Overseas Chinese Students’ Anti-Enemy Backing-Up Society

Singapore Chinese Various Trades Shop Assistants Anti-Enemy Backing-Up Society

Overseas Chinese Anti-Enemy National Salvation Society

Singapore Chinese National Salvation Service Corps

Youth National Salvation Union

Sources: Various issues of Monthly Review of Chinese affairs from August 1937 to May 1939. The last three organisations on this list were founded in 1940 after the claimed destruction of various branches of AEBUS. For this information see CO 273/666, File No. 503336/41. Extract from the Malaya Combined Intelligence Summary, 9 (l November to 30 November 1940) cited in Yong (1977, p. 201).

5 The Post-war Years and the Consociational Logic

DOI: 10.4324/9781003320548-5

The end of the war saw a different Malaya, much affected by the political, social and economic upheavals brought by the war. It was a Malaya that saw its significant actors re-evaluating the political arrangement of the pre-war years. To Malaya’s actors it became increasingly obvious that the old rules of engagement, where Britain stood as the prime arbiter in distributing resources, would have to make way for a new political arrangement.

The post-war years saw the radicalisation of ideas and laid bare the potency of autonomous communities with exclusive institutions and interests that would continually test on Malaya’s terms of reference. This clash of ideas and interests came amidst the proliferation of social and political organisations following Britain’s relaxation of rules of political association and promotion of a civil society, described as the “Malayan Spring”.¹ The “Malayan Spring” afforded space for eclectic range of political associations which saw the pitting of political ideals from Malaya’s exclusive ethnic institutions, each having different priorities and ideas of nationhood. This period saw the aggressive formation of left movements. Impressive as they are, Malaya’s left movements did not develop into a full-blown class struggle. Rather, Malaya’s class struggle existed within ethnic silos; only entrenched and added to the density of existing institutions. The post-war years saw Malay left organisations in the likes of the KMM, Angkatan Pemuda Insaf (API) and the MNP that were led largely by non-aristocratic, Malay and Islamic – educated leaders like Burhanuddin Helmy, Ibrahim Yacob and Ahmad Boestamam. Rather than developed into a pan-Malayan struggle these Malay left organisations added to the repertoire of Malay-based institutions as they competed for political voice and support. The period also saw a resurgent and better armed KMT and MCP whose struggle still had transnational motivations in the immediate years after the war.² The “Malayan Spring” witnessed an unsettled Chinese community finding support from triads, the KMT guerrillas and the MCP for access to economic and political resources that only added to the repertoire of Chinese-based institutions. It was only toward the end of the 1940s did Malaya see a more settled Chinese population. The change in demography that saw a more settled family life and the start of Communist rule that imposed restrictions to movement into China saw the transition of Chinese politics from transnational politics that were directed to China’s political struggle, to ones directed to a Malayan struggle but still operating along ethnic silos.³

The years leading to independence would see Malaya’s autonomous communities making competing political and economic demands and intensely negotiating the country’s terms of reference. This is the period that saw unprecedented display of Malay nationalism led by the UMNO that saw British abandonment of the Malayan Union proposal and the growth of new Chinese organisations in the likes of the AMCJA and the MCA. The political flux accompanying the struggle for independence would see Malaya’s actors coming up with various institutional arrangements to reconcile exclusive institutions and interests. Three arrangements were tried out viz. consociationalism, integration that involves the merging of communal interest and secession that involves partitioning Malaya into two distinct near-homogenous states. In the end, the results of the various municipal elections and the crucial Federal election in 1955 indicate to both the Malayan public and elites that the dynamics of Malaya’s political economy meant that competing demands could only be met by a consociational arrangement. We look now at the growth of Malay leftist organisations and how such movements only added to the repertoire of exclusive institutions.

Malay Nationalism and the Malay Left

Japanese rule recalibrated Anglo-Malay relations. While previous relations pivoted on British-Malay elite nexus, Malay political expression became more eclectic. The Japanese occupation gave rise to a new form of Malay nationalism and fermented ideas like “semangat (spirit) and pemuda (youth)”, that broke away from traditional elitism.⁴ It was during this period that Malay political expression developed along class lines. Besides having English-educated aristocratic Malay elites, Malay politics began to see the emergence of Malay-educated, Islamic-trained elites like Ishak Muhammad, Samad Ismail, Ibrahim Yaacob and Burhannuddin Helmy. These personalities propagated ideas that contested traditional Malay political arrangements. Active in Malay war-time publications such as Berita Malai, Semangat Asia, Fajar and Matahari Menaca, these personalities made their views available for mass consumption.⁵

One prominent Malay left-wing party was the KMM. The party – headed by Ibrahim Yaacob – changed its stripes several times but without losing its brand of nationalism. During the Japanese occupation, the KMM worked closely with the Japanese force and took the name Giyun Gun. It was later renamed Pembela Tanah Ayer (PETA), a militant outfit commanded by Ibrahim Yaacob who was made Lieutenant-Colonel. PETA’s objectives mirrored those of the KMM’s before the war. It cooperated with the Japanese in so far as it served PETA’s objectives of independence and Malaya’s merger with Indonesia. Ibrahim Yaacob was convinced of merger with Indonesia and in the closing months of Japanese rule met Indonesia’s Sukarno when the latter made a brief stopover in Malaya to discuss the possibility of Malaya joining Indonesia.⁶ In the final days of the Japanese occupation, Ibrahim Yaacob fronted another organisation, a new nationalist movement called the Kesatuan Rakyat Istimewa (KRIS). The KRIS had a similar ambition to that of PETA in seeking for independence and merger with Indonesia. The party’s founding members included known Malay personalities like Ishak Muhammad and Burhanuddin Helmy.⁷

In the immediate post-war years, the “Malayan Spring” saw a proliferation of Malay proletariats organisation. As one author puts it “this was Malaya’s ‘age in motion’ where many Malay associations were known by dynamic acronyms of Malay words such as ‘fire’, ‘beware’, ‘the plan’ and their leaders sought to introduce new kinds of political language”.⁸ In the months after the Japanese surrender, there were small political organisations that identified with KMM’s idea of a merger with Indonesia. Some of these organisations included Gerakan Angkatan Muda (GERAM), Pembantoe Indonesia Merdeka (PIM) and Persatuan Kaum Buroh Indonesia (PERKABIM). There were also other organisations that were more localised and directed to local issues ranging from local agricultural joint schemes, cooperatives to education. Rural communities for instance set up sekolah rakyat (people’s schools) to help rural education. At other times these associations took on national proportion. This is demonstrated during the Malayan Union episode where Malay school teachers and ulamas (religious scholars) came together to oppose the Union.

Among the new Malay left organisations, the MNP stood out as a serious counterweight to the largely English-educated aristocratic elites of the UMNO. The MNP was established in 1945 and helmed by Burhanuddin Helmy, who would later head the pan-Malayan Islamic Party (PMIP). The MNP joined the UMNO briefly during the Malayan Union episode but left the party in 1946 after its youth wing the Angkatan Pemuda Insaf (API) walked out of an UMNO meeting after UMNO delegates refused to adopt the flag of Indonesia.⁹ The MNP’s Dr Burhannuddin Helmy also criticised the UMNO for its lack of vision to implement economic and social programmes and failure to mobilise the Malay masses.¹⁰ The MNP then came up with programmes that rivalled that of the UMNO. It set up branches in its stronghold states like Perak, Pahang and Malacca. Its youth wing, the Angkatan Pemuda Insaf (API) set up various organisations taking on names with specific missions. It set up the Barisan Pemuda Merah (The Red Youth Front) specialising in activities like scouting, guerrilla techniques, business and agriculture. It established the Barisan Pemuda Puteh (The White Youth Front) an organisation for sons of fishermen. It also established Pertahanan Tanah Ayer (PETA), which was an elite corp that acted as a vehicle to prepare Malay youths for a militant movement. The API through the MNP also established self-help initiatives such as the Selangor Chamber of Commerce. In Malacca the API established a Malay Trading Association. In November 1946, the MNP formed the Barisan Tani (Peasant Movement) to recruit Malay peasants. It also launched the North Kedah Peasant Association to develop communal farming in that state. By mid-1947, Barisan Tani had some 8,700 members and became “increasingly anti-imperialist, anti-capitalist and republican in tone”.¹¹ The API’s various initiatives triggered the British administration to limit API’s political activity. Its leader Ahmad Boestamam was prosecuted for sedition after he proclaimed the slogan “Merdeka (Independence) through blood”.¹² API was banned in 1947 but the ban did little to stop Malay left movements. After API there was the Ikatan Pemuda Tanah Ayer in 1948. The Ikatan Pemuda Tanah Ayer was behind the setting up Malay Peasant Union, which started a series of Malay self-help organisations like rakyat (People’s) schools and Islamic cooperative like the Syarikat Persatuan Islam and trading company called Syarikat Tani. There was also the Barisan Pemuda (youth front), a group that toured villages to provide advice on healthcare, religion and cooperation. The period also saw the plan for a Malay Communist Party. This was initiated by Sutan Djenain, an Indonesian communist, who was active in Malaya. Having the idea of a Malay communist party working with the MCP, Sutan worked with Malay MCP leaders like Abdul Rashid Maidin, Kamaralzaman Teh and Abdullah Che Dat to found several organisations, like the Malay Nationalist Socialist Party and the Selangor Malay Labour Union. The partnership between Sutan and the Malay MCP leaders however broke down, putting paid to any prospect of a Malay communist movement.¹³

The Malayan Spring also saw leadership from Muslim religious scholars or ulamas who were highly critical of the Malay aristocracy and Malay royalties. One famous organisation that carried these ideas was the religious school Ehya al-Sharif at Gunong Semanggol in Perak. The school was led by Dr Burhannuddin Helmy, the leader of the KMM and MNP. Over time, the school produced Islamic scholars and teachers who were sympathetic to the KMM’s cause. In 1947, a group of religious scholars set up the Majlis Agama Tertinggi (MATA) or supreme religious council. MATA later called on Malay rulers to divest their religious authority to MATA. MATA also started the Pusat Perekonomian Islam (PERKIM) or the Centre for Islamic Economics at Gunong Semanggol which was the equivalent of the Malay chamber of commerce. PERKIM undertook efforts to improve Malay economic well-being, calling on the government “to introduce special protective rights to safeguard the economic stability of the Malay people”.¹⁴ The fascination over MATA and the dissatisfaction over the MNP’s inability led to the formation of the Hizbul Muslimim, or Muslim Party in 1948 whose aim was to found an Islamic state.¹⁵ The Hizbul Muslimin did not last, but some of its leaders then formed the PMIP in the 1950s which is now called Parti Islam Se-Malaysia or PAS.

The Malay lefts – with strong republican and egalitarian ideas – failed to take root in Malaya’s politics, despite the impressive array of organisations. One reason for the failure is the presence of a strong colonial state that was critical of the left. The ideological battle between democracy and communism that was taking root in the post-war years saw the Malayan Security Service taking on a series of moves to stamp out communism from the Malay masses. Left organisations were dealt hard. The MNP members, local Malay chiefs and the Malay Rajas were taken to task by the Malayan Special branch, for possible leftist leanings and propaganda.¹⁶ One of the chief architects of the MNP, Ahmad Boestamam, was arrested. Another reason why the left movement failed to take root in Malaya was that these organisations suffered from weak leadership and organisation. The MNP congress in 1948 revealed that the party was in debt worth about $2,000 and that only 40 percent of its members paid membership fees. Another reason why the left movement failed to take hold among the Malay masses was because Malay left organisations were perceived, rightly or wrongly, to have links with the MCP. The Malays held widespread suspicion of the MCP especially after the inter-ethnic clash soon after the Japanese occupation. The MCP’s Chinese outlook built over years of Chinese transnational activities and the party’s conduct of Kangaroo courts where it rounded up, tried and killed Malays on allegations of working with the Japanese army also raised Malay suspicion of the party. There was attempt by the MCP to court the Malay ground. Ironically, even Malay lefts would not want to be part of the MCP, underlining yet again, the pronouncement of autonomous communities. The MCP attempt’s to partner the Ikatan Pemuda Tanah Ayer (PETA), an offshoot party of the KMM and whose members were API, failed. Upon knowing of PETA’s association with the MCP, PETA’s congress, held in 1948, only managed to get a mere 350 out of an estimated 10,000 API members.¹⁷ But Malay lefts organisations also suffered from a lack of membership largely because a large portion of Malay thought leaders – school teachers and ulamas – gave their support to the UMNO who by now had built up an impressive track record in championing Malay interests. The UMNO was instrumental in galvanising Malays’ rejection of the Malayan Union proposal. The UMNO leaders’ credentials – comprising of Malay aristocrats and bureaucrats with intimate knowledge of the workings of the colonial administration – also swayed public opinion of the viability of the party in promoting Malay struggle.¹⁸

Nonetheless, the proliferation of Malay-based organisations served only to add to the density of and contributed to the growth of exclusive Malay-based institutions. The growth and exclusive nature of Malay leftist organisations prove an important point of this book’s argument; that despite Malaya’s class struggle, these struggles existed within ethnic silos. The MCP, while managing to rope in Malay leaders, failed to develop mass Malay support. While the party attempted to court the Malay ground when it tried to partner the Malay Nationalist Party (MNP), the plan failed.¹⁹ The MNP had to distant itself from the MCP, sensing that close association with the MCP would cost them much needed Malay support. The pull of ethnicity and Malay leadership was so strong that in a desperate measure to gain support the MNP “disguised their connection with the Communist Party and dallied with the feudal elites”.²⁰ So desperate was the MNP for Malay support and to distance itself from the MCP, that in July 1947, the communist leader, Abdul Rashid Maidin demanded the return of full power to the Sultan of Kedah, an about-turn from his republican leanings.²¹ If the war years saw the hardening of Malay nationalism and the proliferation of Malay leftist organisations, the Malayan Spring also raised the profile of numerous Chinese organisations.

Chinese Politics and the Chinese Lefts

The war years raised the profile of the MCP and the KMT and contributed to the consolidation of Chinese political role in the coming years. If during the pre-war years, the MCP and KMT were at the periphery, at times irritants on the British administration, the Japanese occupation brought these organisations to the centre of British policy consideration when they collaborated with the British administration during the war period.

The war years gave a military dimension to the MCP after it offered to work closely with the British administration against Japanese occupation.Days before the fall of Singapore, the MCP approached the British administration offering a guerrilla resistance army under British command in exchange for Britain providing the MCP with arms. The resistance army was named the MPAJA. This British-trained MCP outfit was deployed to parts of Malaya to offer resistance. The operation was halted midway after rapid advances made by the Japanese army but resumed in 1943. This time the British made further improvement to the deal, agreeing not only to provide the MPAJA with ammunition but also financed the MPAJA operational costs by providing 150 taels of gold every month.²²

The KMT also established its own resistance army to fight the war. It formed a Chinese resistance group, called the Dalforce or Force 136 which offered the British authority the last line of defence against Japanese attack. This 1,000-member resistance squad was put together by philanthropist Tan Kah Kee, the Chinese Chamber of Commerce, and the KMT-linked China Distress Relief Fund.²³ Force 136 was headed by Lim Bo Seng, a Chinese Government (KMT) representative in Malaya.²⁴ Lim put together this band of 1,000 men – all KMT sympathisers – soon after getting approval from General Chiang Kai Shek. Besides Force 136, the war also saw a Kuomintang-led anti-Japanese guerrilla force called the Overseas Chinese Anti-Japanese Army (OCAJA). This “One Star” KMT force, as against the “Three Star” MPAJA (MCP) force, was concentrated in the north-west region of the Malay Peninsula and by February 1945 had a total force of 2,000 members.²⁵

During the war, both the KMT’s OCAJA and MCP’s MPAJA forces became the backbone of British resistance in Malaya. The MPAJA had about eight independent regiments spanning the Malay Peninsula. Even at this stage of its involvement in Malaya, the MCP held transnational ties. The MPAJA’s fifth regiment in Perak and its sixth regiment in Pahang, for instance, included veterans of the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) eighth route army. And, out of the 1,225 MPAJA members who were killed in the war, 661 had homes in China, or an unknown place of origin.²⁶

Despite collaborating with the KMT, the British were suspicious of the KMT’s transnational links. In May 1945, the Supreme Allied Commander Mountbatten saw the KMT’s struggle as that of China’s not Malaya’s, saying that:

[…] as members of the Kuomintang, they are affiliated with China proper and may well be used as a nucleus to spread in Malaya the strong Chinese nationalism which is manifesting itself in China.²⁷

Mountbatten however had a different opinion of the MCP. In August 1945, he granted the Chief of Staff full authorisation to cooperate fully with the MPAJA and to provide the unit with sufficient funds, arms and logistical support.²⁸ But despite Mountbatten’s confidence in the MPAJA, he knew nothing of the MCP’s bigger plan for Malaya, a plan in which Britain would play no part. In 1943, the MCP came up with a nine-point programme underlining MCP’s intention to establish a Malayan Republic governed by a “representative national organisation”, where the MPAJA would be turned into the National Defence Army and the new Republic be allied with China and Soviet Russia.²⁹ The message was reiterated during the “Second Enlarged Meeting” of the MCP Central Executive committee, where members agreed to overthrow the Malayan government and to set up a “People’s Republic” – a real contest on Malaya’s terms of reference.

If anything, the Japanese occupation sharpened the distinction between Malaya’s autonomous communities where political and economic struggle was kept within communal silos. Following the war, Chinese community welcomed the presence of the MCP (MPAJA) and the KMT (OCAJA) as war heroes in the fight against the Japanese. Chinese affinity to the MCP (MPAJA) and KMT (OCAJA) and their still deep transnational links is best captured by Purcell, the Secretary of Chinese Affairs. In describing the celebration following the Japanese surrender, Purcell wrote:

Flags, especially Chinese flags, were flying from shops and upper stories and there was an occasional Union Jack[…]. The fact was that the Chinese, especially the Communists, had expected that Malaya would be reoccupied by a Chinese army[…]. Up country, it was later seen, the accent was almost entirely on the war effort of the Chinese guerrillas, the AJA and the triumphal arches and inscriptions were mostly in their honour.³⁰

Indeed, the war consolidated Chinese-based organisations but one that still had strong transnational tendencies, not Malayan-centred ones. The interregnum period after the Japanese surrender and the introduction of Malayan spring that ensued would see serious assertions by Chinese-based organisations like the MCP, KMT and Triad societies that took on very exclusive interest.

The Post-War Years and the effect of the Malayan Spring

The war depleted the Malayan economy and the post-war years saw a restless Chinese communities displaced from the plantations and the tin mines and were now forced to settle at the periphery of towns or occupy large tracts of forest reserves.³¹ Perak, for instance, had the largest number of squatters numbering more than 130,000.³² The void in Chinese leadership and the insecurity brought about by economic displacement saw the MCP, KMT and Chinese Secret Societies carving out territorial control targeting areas with large Chinese communities. Some described the settlements controlled by the KMT, the MCP and Chinese Secret societies as “state within a state”.³³ In Perak, several Bagans (fishing village) came under the control of the Ang Bun Tua Kongsi or secret society. In Kelantan, 170 KMT guerrillas managed to occupy the capital city Kota Bahru, after clashes with the MPAJA. A report, which mistook the KMT control of Kota Bahru with that of the MPAJA, states that

In Kota Bahru….[t]he Chinese guerrilla occupied the town and proclaimed themselves masters. They terrorised the local peoples, robbed them, and looted their homes.³⁴

There was a mixture of KMT and MPAJA (MCP) armies in Perak and Ulu Kelantan. The KMT ruled the jungle in the north of the Malay Peninsula in areas like Grik, Sungei Golok and Betong. The MCP however was dominant in several areas in Perak like Sungei Siput and some areas in Johore. While the MCP had control mainly in the rural areas and the KMT in the urban areas, at times the two ventured beyond their known area of control. There were times when the KMT challenged the MCP’s stronghold in the country side by setting up branches³⁵ and there were times when the MCP’s took claims on some areas. The conflicts between the MCP and the KMT to win over Chinese communities were made complicated by their links with Chinese triad societies; the KMT was affiliated with the Hung triad while the MCP had affiliation with the Han. In Setiawan and Pangkor in Perak where the MCP had a stronghold, there was an all out battle by the KMT – Hung societies to reclaim these areas from MCP domination.³⁶ At times there were open wars involving secret societies, MCP and KMT all in a bid to take control of strategic areas. A Force 136 official commented on the various factions within the Chinese community describing that “there were in the Malayan jungle all sorts of camps of Chinese who were under no sort of authority, and would have been classified as gang robbers”.³⁷

During these times, leadership of the Chinese community were mainly captured by the MCP, the KMT along with secret societies. These organizations were often behind the demands for land-related issues and settlements. In Selangor, the KMT acted on behalf of Chinese settlers to demand the state to take in outside settlers. Squatters were also drawn to “Peasants Union” as a platform to get their demands heard. The New Democratic Youth League, a conduit of the MCP, formed cooperative stores in Endau in Perak and Jemalang and Rompin in Pahang to support the displaced communities and to rake up support for the MCP. The Ipoh Labour Union, under the influence of the MCP, demanded that all trees felling be done by “democratic workmen”. At Tronoh, in Perak, labour cooperatives were claimed to be responsible in encouraging about 200 Chinese to attack Malays and burn them alive. In Perak, Sungkai district, Malays fled after Chinese settlers under the influence of the resistance army (MCP or OCAJA) began to undertake large- scale work.³⁸

The MCP, KMT and Secret societies’ efforts in carving out control of the rural Chinese communities unsettled the British administration. The constant civil flare-up saw the administration coming up with measures to address the insecurities of the Chinese community and to wean the community off the influence of the MCP, KMT and Secret societies. Some urgent issues that were high on the list for the British administration related to land and squatter settlements. Addressing the issue of land and massive squatter settlements was difficult given existing laws and the discomfort to local communities. Malay associations were urging the British authority to reverse the encroachments by non-Malays on Malay reserved lands.³⁹ The grievances by the Malay association came after squatter settlements encroached on Malay kampongs on the fringes of forest reserves that raised ethnic tensions. In Kedah, Malay settlers complained that Chinese settlers at the fringe of forest reserves were causing soil erosions and hurting their paddy plantations.⁴⁰ Given that existing laws in the Malay States “were not able and unwilling to alienate areas of land largely enough to satisfy the Chinese”,⁴¹ the administration came up with other options. In a bid to bring these fringe settlements under control and address industries’ concern on illegal occupation of land, the colonial administration started to reclaim large tracts of land purportedly for timber revenue.⁴² To quell growing disquiet the government issued 20,000 Temporary Occupation Licences (TOL) which was largely mining lands.⁴³ Still the temporary licences issued by the state did not provide comprehensive solutions to the huge squatter problems.⁴⁴ Chinese settlements, in the 1940s, continued to be sites of control for the KMT, MCP and secret societies.

While it is not right to assume that all rural Chinese communities were under the influence of the MCP, the KMT and the triad societies, it is equally hard not to suggest that rural Chinese communities – in need of leadership – were influenced by these organisations. One author describes that the Chinese squatters were the MCP’s “invisible army” and that during the war the Chinese community looked towards the MPAJA as a “hidden force of moral power”.⁴⁵ British Military intelligence reports also hinted that Chinese community’s demands for access to lands were not random acts but had sophistication that could only come from a well-thought-out organization.⁴⁶. This is because these “demands were presented in a similar form which indicated that the squatters were drawn into wider solidarities”.⁴⁷ The historical trajectory suggests that this is not surprising because the cultivators had been in contact with various militant organisations and had forged links with the resistance army during the war.⁴⁸ The MCP for instance had a sizeable contribution to Chinese peasants’ resistance movement. In Jelebu, Negeri Sembilan, the MCP destroyed land office records.⁴⁹ The MCP also ran an article “The peasants’ struggles in Perak” in its communist periodical where it lauded the resistance shown by Sungei Siput’s peasants after they confronted forest workers.⁵⁰ There were also a series of violence in areas where Chinese employers called on the KMT and the secret societies to enforce economic dominance.⁵¹ A memo by one Mr Rich of Tronoh Mines Company in December 1945 to the Colonial Office encapsulates how in parts of Malaya, the MCP’s influence still captured the imagination of Chinese communities.⁵²

The cases above demonstrate the formation and presence of autonomous Chinese community and the formation of a dense network of highly exclusive organisations, ones that still had strong transnational links. The KMT, the MCP and the triad societies all rode on the restlessness and insecurity of the Chinese peasantry. Such mobilization of Chinese communities inadvertently contributed to the creation of a dense exclusive autonomous communities. The MCP, for instance, had a clear idea of what it wanted from its Malayan struggle that touched directly on Malaya’s terms of reference. As late as 1947, for example, the MCP publication, the “Freedom News” quoted one MCP member saying that the role of the MCP was to remove British power and its “feudalist” Malay allies. In its place, there would be a democratic socialist Republic of Malaya, with a broad united middle class and “under the vanguard leadership of Chinese working classes” and the Communist Party.⁵³

Indeed, the “Malayan Spring” exposed the stark differences and competing demands of Malaya’s autonomous communities. While the British administration attempted to provide a more inclusive Malayan community by encouraging active citizenship, lifting restrictions on associations,⁵⁴ and providing a more liberal political atmosphere, the attempts also exposed the potency of mutually exclusive institutions harnessed from many years of development. The period after the war exposed the potency of such mutually exclusive interests. The post-war years saw a visible class struggle that ended up enhancing ethnic-based institutions and reinforcing the formation of exclusive parallel communities. The growth of Malay lefts and Malay nationalism and the Chinese class struggle for instance were dominated by ethnic consideration and transnational imperatives. But what would be obvious in the coming years is that these exclusive interests and demands would be increasingly directed at Malaya’s terms of reference. We turn now to two events that took place in the immediate months after the end of the war that capture the change in Malaya’s political dynamic; two events that exhibit contention over Malaya’s terms of reference – the ethnic riots and the Malayan Union proposal.

The Post-war Years: Ethnic Riots and the MCP

The post-war period unearthed the consequences of the institutionalisation process of the pre-war years. It revealed the gravity of Chinese transnational politics that had been in the works since the early part of the twentieth century. The power vacuum left in the days after the end of the Japanese occupation saw the MCP at the centre of one of Malaya’s worst ethnic strife.

The MCP’s power display after the war did little to instil confidence that it was pursuing a Malayan interest. It wasted no time in filling the power vacuum in the three weeks before an interim British Military Administration (BMA) was put in place.⁵⁵ During this period, the MCP conducted its own “people’s court” that saw them targeting a disproportionate number of Malays and Indians. These suspected Japanese collaborators were rounded up, given trial in a kangaroo court and, when found guilty, summarily executed.⁵⁶ MCP’s actions pitted non-Chinese against Chinese. As one author describes, “the fear of the MPAJA became fear of the Chinese” and many Malays “lost sight of the distinction between Chinese who were Communist and Chinese in general”.⁵⁷

In the immediate weeks after the war, the MPAJA’s behaviour sparked unprecedented clashes between Chinese and Malays.⁵⁸ Ethnic skirmishes which started in Johor soon spread to the rest of the Malay States. In the period September 1945–March 1946, almost 400 people were killed in ethnic conflicts. The BMA reported that, during this period, 1,000 people were displaced in Muar and another 4,000 in Batu Pahat, both districts in the state of Johor. There were also reports of killings by the MPAJA of a Malay District Officer and Police Chief in Kluang, in the state of Johor. The BMA report in March 1946 starkly describes the extent of the racial strife:

[T]here were later outbreaks in various parts of the country, especially in Lower Perak where in the first three weeks of January, the death toll amounted to approximately sixty Chinese and thirty Malays, and in the Raub districts of Pahang where on the 11th of February the Malays made a sudden attack on the Chinese and killed thirty and wounded sixteen, two of themselves being killed and ten wounded. The first big incident in which the Chinese were the aggressors was at Bekor, on the Perak River, on the 2nd of March when seventy-six Malays were massacred in a surprise attack made at dawn.⁵⁹

These early days after the war gave a glimpse of what was to come for Malayan politics. While it may not be apparent at the time, the ethnic strife, for the first time, exposed the potency of Malaya’s autonomous communities with exclusive interests. The ethnic flare-up led by the MCP was a manifestation of Malaya’s deep institutionalisation process, a process that had taken roots many many years before the war. The early days after the war not only exposed Malaya’s parallel communities with mutually exclusive institutions they also gave a taste of the potential problems these institutions might inflict on the political economy. In the coming months, the display of a politicised Chinese community was equally matched by an unprecedented display of Malay nationalism that had been gradually honed over the years, by British policies that catered to the preservation of Malay de jure power. Malay political expressions – mainly premised on maintaining Malay political primacy – took on unprecedented display during the ill-timed British-proposed Malayan Union. We turn now to the Malayan Union proposal and Malay nationalism.

Malayan Union and Malay Nationalism (October 1945–June 1946)

The Malayan Union was a bold attempt at creating a unitary state by amalgamating the Federated Malay States (FMS), the Unfederated Malay States (UMS) and the Straits Settlements (with the exception of Singapore) into one political entity. Under this new arrangement, Malaya would fall under Britain’s Foreign Jurisdiction Act and would “render unnecessary any further dependence on Treaties with rulers in any future revision of the constitutional arrangements”.⁶⁰ In other words, the Malayan Union would be a crown colony, just like the Straits Settlements. The Union would effectively replace indirect rule through the Sultans with a centralised administration headed by a Governor based in Kuala Lumpur. It would also grant non-Malays citizenship status, employ equal citizenship rights, and revoke Malay special status. In short, the Malayan Union would do away completely the remnants of Malay feudal arrangements and end Malay de jure power.

The idea for a Malayan Union or at least some form of British direct rule had been thought of as early as the 1930s and had the Chinese community in mind. As pointed out earlier, by the 1930s, the administration increasingly saw the need to grant Malayan citizenship to Chinese as part of an effort to mute Chinese transnational links. The colonial administration also saw the need to incorporate the Chinese community into Malaya’s political process given that the community had become an integral and indispensable part of Malaya’s political economy.

Although earlier efforts in the 1930s to promote common citizenship hit a roadblock due to restrictions imposed by existing Malay States’ laws, the colonial administration continued to explore ways to grant Chinese citizenship right in the years to come. In October 1941, just months before the Japanese occupation of Malaya, Edward Gent, the Head of the Eastern Department of the Colonial Office, asked Shenton Thomas, the High Commissioner, to come up with ways for the British government to annex the Malay States to resolve the problem. Gent was clear in his reason for annexation, saying that “our concern is with the Chinese”⁶¹ and that direct rule was the only way because, unless the British administration could “clearly say H.M (His Majesty) has jurisdiction in the Malay States concerned, it [would be] impossible to make headway”.⁶²

Gent’s idea was revisited during the war years. This time the idea took the form of a Malayan Union. Though the idea of a Malayan Union was economically appealing given that centralisation of power would give Britain better control of Malaya’s economy and help resuscitate Britain’s post-war economy, it was also apparent that the British administration had the issue of Chinese citizenship in mind. Britain’s motivation for a common citizenship for the Chinese was all the more urgent because of the war. The KMT’s and the MCP’s involvement in the war resistance efforts had made it more imperative for London to have a more inclusive Malayan citizenship.⁶³ There was also the pressure from prominent Straits Chinese for the British administration to seek a more inclusive Malaya.⁶⁴ Such was Britain’s preoccupation to grant Chinese citizenship rights, that the Colonial Office came up with a special report that dealt with proper treatment of the Chinese community in the Malayan Union. The report included provisions that persons of Chinese race in the Malayan Union would be given Malayan Union citizenship, would have the rights and privileges of a citizen and would enjoy the benefits of any British policies except British policy on Malay land reservations.⁶⁵ The Union was endorsed by the British government in September 1945. This was followed by a visit by Harold McMichael, the Special Representative to the British Crown, to Malaya between 18 October 1945 and 21 December 1945.

In spite of Britain’s best efforts in promoting the Malayan Union, the project failed. It failed for a number of reasons. One good reason is that the Malayan Union project came during Malaya’s worst political upheaval. Harold McMichael’s visits to the various Malay States between October and December 1945 to seek Malay rulers’ endorsement of the Union came at a time when Malaya was embroiled in serious ethnic strife involving the MCP. On 20 November 1945, at the time of McMichael’s visit to Johor, a telegram was issued jointly by the MCP, the KMT in Johor and the various Chinese Associations asking for British protection after Chinese had been killed in ethnic skirmishes in Padang Lebar, Johor.⁶⁶ In Kelantan, days before McMichael’s visit, KMT elements were plotting to kill the deputy Mentri Besar, Datuk Nik Ahmad Kamil. It was also during this time, that the MCP/MPAJA put eleven Malays on trial and executed three Malays in Kuala Krai, Kelantan.⁶⁷ In fact, the McMichael visit to Kelantan was met with protest and ethnic violence, which ended up with three Chinese and two Malays being killed and several more injured.⁶⁸

The Malayan Union proposal also failed to take off because of the manner in which the proposal was introduced to the Malay Sultans that invited strong Malay reactions. Harold McMichael was nothing but blunt when he introduced the Union proposal to the Malay rulers. The rulers were not allowed to consult one another on the proposed changes and they were not briefed on the specifics of the proposal.⁶⁹ McMichael was abrasive and criticised the Malay rulers for being punctilious. Noting that he did not have time on his side, he put his authority to good use when he threatened the Sultans, saying that should they reject the Union proposal he would exercise the right to appoint a new Sultan, one whom the British felt would accept the Union proposal.⁷⁰ Arm-twisted, the Malay rulers had little choice but to accept the Union but not without deprecation. The Sultan of Kedah, for instance, reported how McMichael’s high-handed approach gave him little option but to agree with the proposal. In lobbying his case to Frank Swettenham, who was one of the staunchest critics of the Union, the Sultan remarked that

I was presented with a verbal ultimatum with a time limit, and in the event of my refusing to sign the new agreement, which I call the instrument of Surrender, a successor, who would sign it, would be appointed Sultan.⁷¹

In another letter to the British government, the Sultan of Selangor also complained of McMichael’s haste and strong-arm tactics

I replied, “I have [knowledge of the proposal], but the [the details] are not very clear to me.” Sir Harold said “The object of the Union is to ensure peace and progress[…]I ask your Highness and the other Rulers to give your consent and not to be a recalcitrant[…]. I shall convey Your Highness’ views to higher quarters, but the sole purpose of my coming here is to obtain Your Highness’ signature.⁷²

It is apparent that the radical nature of the Malayan Union, the hasty and abrasive manner in which it was put together and presented to the Malay Sultans, and the unfortunate timing of the proposal coming as it did amid massive ethnic strife, only stoked Malay fear of political emasculation. Taken together, the conjuncture of events – the bitter racial strife, the egalitarian nature of the Malayan Union proposal and McMichael’s “high-handedness” – sparked off an unprecedented show of pan-Malay nationalism. Sensing that their rights had been sold off, in a show of protest, the Persatuan Melayu Johor (Johor Malay Association) made clear that they no longer wanted Sultan Ibrahim of Johor to be their ruler, one of the rare occasions when the rakyat spoke against a monarchy. In late 1945, Onn Jaafar, an officer in the civil service, mobilised a mass protest against the Union in Johor, a state which, coincidentally, experienced Malaya’s worst ethnic strife.⁷³

The show of protest that started in December 1945 became more pronounced after details of the Union were released in January 1946. In March 1946, a party called the UMNO was formed in Johor whose prime objective was to urge the British government to reverse the Malayan Union proposal. The UMNO made several initiatives. First, it pressured Malay rulers into rethinking the Malayan Union project, which the rulers subsequently did by drawing up a petition to the King of England. The UMNO also managed to lobby external support by asking former British Malayan officials to petition against the Union. The high point of UMNO’s effort was its ability to galvanise Malay grassroots support and pressure Malay rulers to boycott a ceremony that would mark the installation of the new Governor General of the Malayan Union. The incessant pressure exerted by the UMNO and its supporters against the Malayan Union resulted in the project being abandoned by the end of May 1946.

In mid-July 1946, the British government, the UMNO and the Malay rulers agreed to replace the Malayan Union with a Federation agreement. By 25 July 1946, a working committee was put together to draft the Federation Agreement. The committee, which was also made up of UMNO members, invited members of the public to provide recommendations. The Federal constitution was finalised by mid-December 1946.⁷⁴

A significant point of the Malayan Union proposal is that, rather than weakened Malay de jure power, the Malayan Union episode only enhanced it. The proposal and the opposition to the Union contributed to the strengthening of Malay nationalism and the continued preservation of Malay de jure power. The episode not only restored Malay rulers but also led to the involvement of Malays in future political process.⁷⁵

It is also worth mentioning that, even though the Malayan Union had the non-Malays, specifically Chinese in mind, the proposal was surprisingly met with a muted response by the community. The non reaction was unlike the unprecedented wave of Malay opposition of the Union. In the early months that eventually led to the abandonment of the project, there was no organised non-Malay support for the Malayan Union proposal even when the proposal clearly provided for a more inclusive Malaya that would give non-Malays citizenship rights.

An attachment to Chinese transnational politics could be a reason for Chinese indifferent response to the Union. In a report to the Colonial Office, Edward Gent, the main architect of the Union, expressed his surprise at the Chinese and Indian reactions to the Malayan Union concluding that the Chinese and the Indians wanted to retain separate nationality along with the Malayan Union citizenship.⁷⁶ The Malayan Security Service also supported Gent’s claim reporting that

[…] it appears to have been generally thought that acceptance of Malayan Union Citizenship would entail renunciation of Chinese nationality and this was regarded as ridiculous by the Chinese.⁷⁷

Another remark suggests that majority of Chinese were concerned with the struggle in China and that “few Chinese were interested in a Malayan constitutional reform, fewer still prepared to commit themselves”.⁷⁸ The editorial in the Chung Hwa publication, a Chinese newspaper publication, cogently portrays the Chinese dilemma saying:

Malaya is the second mother country [of the Chinese] […]. If we want to have the rights of citizenship in Malaya, we must either openly declare or quietly consent that we are separated from our mother country.⁷⁹

It would be obvious that the indifferent reaction by the Chinese community could also be due to the lack of Malayan-centred Chinese leadership,⁸⁰ as Chinese leadership, as demonstrated earlier, was highly aligned to Chinese transnational links. A Malayan-centred Chinese political struggle only came about at the end of the 1940s. This was the result of diminishing effect of Chinese transnational links, the growing number of settled Chinese families and the start of the Chinese Community Party rule in China that discouraged migrants from returning to mainland China.⁸¹ Indeed, one possible explanation for the muted response with regards to the Malayan Union is that the bulk of the Chinese community was still overwhelmed by Chinese transnational politics.⁸²

The events in the post-war years – Malaya’s bitter ethnic strife and the Malayan Union proposal – brought to bear the consequences of past British policies, ones that had created two autonomous communities with exclusive sets of institutions. But the events during the post-war years – the ethnic strife and the Malayan Union – also altered the expectations of Malaya’s significant actors in the coming years. The late 1940s and the early 1950s would see Malaya’s two autonomous communities attempting to create institutions that could best distribute political and economic resources. We turn now to some of these arrangements and the shaping of Malaya’s consociational logic.

The Consociational Logic and Other Options

The “Malayan Spring” brought forth the sharpness of the institutional divide that existed between Malaya’s actors. The ethnic riots and the Malayan Union controversy laid bare the deep differences between Malaya’s two communities both with mutually exclusive sets of institutions. The difficult episodes however raised new expectations as well as questions amongst actors on how best to distribute Malaya’s political and economic resources. The post-war years would see how these expectations were increasingly bordered on the contestation over Malaya’s terms of reference.

The post-war years leading to Malaya’s independence in 1957 saw Malaya’s significant actors attempting three approaches to best distribute political and economic resources. The first approach was the consociational arrangement that required political constituents to come up with common terms but without them having to surrender their core values. This arrangement is demonstrated by the AMCJA – PUTERA and the MCP – MNP alliances, the workings of the CLC and the UMNO-MCA alliance.

The second approach is the integrationist approach. This approach required autonomous communities to surrender their identities and work towards having common core values. This arrangement was put forward by Onn Jaafar that led him to establish the Independence of Malaya Party (IMP). The approach demanded that political parties (mainly ethnically based) be dissolved and their members subsumed within a common multi-ethnic political platform. This is a tacit arrangement required contending parties to agree on Malaya’s term of reference and to drop mutually exclusive interest. It is indeed an ambitious plan that in hindsight was an idea far ahead of its time. Onn’s plan was wrought with impediments. By requiring contending parties to surrender their exclusive institutions and interests and to be subsumed under a common ideological platform demanded a huge leap of faith. Given the prevailing circumstances at the time giving up such exclusive interests was a tall order.

The third option was the easiest but potentially the most fractious. It involved creating partitions that would ensure – at least on paper – that each autonomous group would retain and promote their exclusive institutions. This method involved the sectioning of Malaya into two states; the urban and Chinese majority Straits Settlements of Singapore, Penang and Malacca and the Malay-majority states of Johor, Negeri Sembilan, Trengganu, Pahang, Perak, Selangor, Perlis and Kelantan. This idea was aggressively pursued by Penang and Singapore in the late 1940s and early 1950s. It was a logical idea in so far as the proposal intuitively took into consideration the variance of the terms of reference between the Malay States and the Straits Settlements given that both entities had different institutional legacies. We turn now to the early experiments that Malaya’s autonomous groups embarked on to best distribute political and economic resources.

The First Option: The Start of Malayan Organisations and the Shaping up of Consociationalism

One of the earliest efforts at seeking a consociational arrangement was the setting up of the AMCJA in December 1946, initiated by the MDU with Tan Cheng Lock as Chairman.⁸³ The MDU was a left-wing party, founded in Singapore in December 1945 and widely known to have links with the MCP. Its membership came mainly from more moderate English-educated Chinese with its top members known to be MCP sympathisers.⁸⁴

The AMCJA’s prime concern was to reject the proposed Federation Agreement, on grounds that the Agreement did not grant equal opportunities to non-Malays. In fact, the AMCJA rejection in December 1946 was the first organised reaction by non-Malays on the Malayan Union issue.⁸⁵ The AMCJA proposed an alternative solution: a united Malaya inclusive of Singapore; self-governance through a fully elected legislature and equal citizenship rights to those who made Malaya their permanent home and the object of their undivided loyalty.⁸⁶ In the months between December 1946 and February 1947, the AMCJA went on an aggressive publicity drive using news publications and staging demonstrations to seek public rejection of the Federation Agreement.

Imperative to this arrangement is that the AMCJA understood that its goals would be better served if it involved Malaya’s other actors,⁸⁷ specifically Malay support. In 1947 the AMCJA partnered with a number of left-wing Malay cultural organisations collectively called the PUTERA. In the months leading to the final drafting of the Federation Agreement, the AMCJA-PUTERA partnership went on a concerted effort to reject the Agreement. This included boycotting the government-sponsored Consultative committee and calling on the British authority to set up a Royal Commission to draft a new constitution. Towards the end of March 1947, the AMCJA-PUTERA coalition sent a six-point agreement to the Colonial Office to counter the Federation Agreement. The AMCJA-PUTERA even considered sending a delegation to London to be headed by Tan Cheng Lock to convey their dissatisfaction with the Federation Agreement.⁸⁸ One of AMCJA-PUTERA’s most impressive moves was coming up with their own version of the Federation Agreement called the People’s constitution which, among others, recommended that⁸⁹:

British government to end colonial rule and place real power in the hands of the people who would elect not only their state legislative Assemblies but also a Central Legislative Assembly, or Parliament, which would in turn elect the Prime Minister and his Council of Ministers.

The British king would be the constitutional monarch of the settlements of Singapore, Malacca and Penang…and the Sultans would become constitutional monarchs in their own states.

Malay to be the National Language.

Citizenship of all to be “Melayu”.

Council of Races to be formed to vet any racial discrimination.

The People’s constitution was a response at reconciling Malaya’s terms of reference, but nonetheless an ambitious one. But, more significantly, the effort bore the imprint of a consociational logic as it reflects an attempt by Malaya’s two large communities to seek common grounds to reconcile the presence of mutually exclusive political and economic interests. AMCJA-PUTERA’s novel effort was poignantly captured by the Straits Times in its report of the new realities and essence of Malaya’s political economy. The report describes the constitution as “the first attempt to put Malayan party politics on a plane higher than that of rival racial interests and also the first attempt to build a political bridge between the non-Malay communities and the Malay race”.⁹⁰ In some ways, the founders of the AMCJA-PUTERA understood the complexities of contending demands and the need to agree on the terms of reference that characterised Malaya.

The Straits Settlement Governor General, however, was not overly optimistic that the AMCJA-PUTERA alliance would work deeming the partnership as “idealistic and impracticable”. The Colonial Office view the People’s constitution as a document that was purely academic put together by people who were

either unaware of, or unwilling to face, the real difficulties of personal and racial animosities, and of economic activities, which make Malayan politics so confused and the problem of settling a stable constitution so intractable.⁹¹

To put things into perspective, the People’s constitutions required renegotiating Malaya’s terms of reference. It required non-Malays to assume the “Melayu” nationality and to acknowledge the Malay language in exchange for citizenship right. For the Malays, the constitution demanded that they would be willing to give up the Sultan’s special position and lose Malay privileges. Agreeing on the People’s Constitution required a huge leap of faith, a big hurdle given the prevalence and proliferation of mutually exclusive ethnic institutions at the time.

The AMCJA-PUTERA alliance failed to take off. In hindsight, the failure should not come as a surprise. The alliance failed because parties disagreed over Malaya’s terms of reference. Between February 1947 and October 1947, cracks began to appear in the partnership that saw both sides mired in bitter and at times petty squabbles. One occasion saw the AMCJA attempting to appease its non-Malay constituents by refusing to accede to PUTERA’s demands for Malay to be the official language and “Melayu” to be the Malayan nationality. Another instance saw the AMCJA rejecting PUTERA’s ultimate objective for an eventual merger with Indonesia which the AMCJA feared could lead to political obsolescence of the Chinese community.⁹² PUTERA also refused to give in to AMCJA’s demands to amend the proposal of the People’s Constitution from the original statement that stated Malay language as the national language and “Melayu” (Malay) as the official Malayan race. PUTERA understood that giving in to such demands risked losing substantial Malay support.

The failure of the AMCJA-PUTERA coalition highlights the complexities that came with a consociational arrangement. Evidently, the AMCJA and the PUTERA exacted too much from each other and failed to appreciate the presence of highly entrenched mutually exclusive institutions. They did not fully appreciate that making compromises required high levels of mutual trust and confidence – scarce properties at that point in Malayan history. Indeed, the failure of the AMCJA-PUTERA partnership made clear that having lofty solutions such as the AMCJA-PUTERA’s six-point agreement and People’s Constitution would not be enough. The attempt failed because parties did not take into account contending demands and how these contending demands negotiate Malaya’s terms of reference. From that perspective, AMCJA-Putera’s People’s constitution was very much populist in nature, devoid of political realities.

Before the AMCJA-PUTERA consociational attempt, there was another almost similar initiative by the MCP. In the months after the Malayan Union project was mooted, the MCP attempted to win Malay support by partnering with the left-wing MNP. The alliance however became untenable as both parties took on extreme positions and could not compromise on fundamental differences that touched on Malaya’s terms of reference. The MNP advocated a Union of Malaya that gave all ethnic groups equal opportunities but with the ultimate aim of a merger with Indonesia. The MCP rejected such a stance, fearing that a merger with Indonesia would diminish Chinese political strength.⁹³ Having failed to make the MCP-MNP coalition work, the MCP made another attempt to court the Malay ground. This time it came up with a more comprehensive initiative, realizing that any meaningful national movement must incorporate Malay support. In August 1946, the MCP started the Malay National Movement. The strategy included: intensifying the spread of party propaganda among Malays to entice them to join the party; to train Chinese personnel to be well-versed in Malay affairs and if need be, adopt their religion and nationality; to mobilise members to work with the Malay community; to give support to the setting up of Malay division within the MCP and to submit regular reports on Malay development.⁹⁴ To demonstrate its seriousness in shedding its Chinese image and win Malay support, the fourth issue of Freedom News, MCP’s own publication, criticised its members for clinging to transnational ties, reminding them that:

Is it proper to love the China Communist Party and not the Malayan Communist Party…[t]he Chinese and Indian nationals have their hearts in China and India respectively…[w]e communists are internationalists…what is the communists’ fatherland? It is neither China nor India, it is Malaya.⁹⁵

Despite its best efforts, the MCP failed to obtain mass Malay support. But an important point is that the MCP’s efforts to incorporate Malay political constituents reiterate that the MCP intuitively understood the need to cut transnational ties and that a sustainable political solution required it to bridge Malaya’s mutually exclusive institutions and acknowledge Malaya’s terms of reference.

The above cases made it obvious that, after almost 100 years of British management, de facto consociationalism (or at least its inevitability) was built into Malaya’s political arrangement. It became increasingly apparent that some form of consociationalism was the only feasible way to negotiate Malaya’s autonomous communities and their exclusive interests and the country’s terms of reference. This consociational arrangement became more obvious in the coming years. Another important demonstration of the consociational logic was the formation of the CLC that brought together Malay and Chinese political leaders who would later become core members of the UMNO and MCA and the eventual formation of the Alliance party. Before we turn to the detailed workings of the CLC, it would be appropriate to provide a brief description of the MCA.

The Malayan Chinese Association

The MCA needs special mention, because, unlike previous Chinese political organisations like the KMT and the MCP, the MCA gave a Malayan focus to Chinese politics and provided the Chinese community with a political vehicle that was amenable to British authority. The MCA was formed on 27 February 1949, ten days after High Commissioner Henry Gurney floated the idea for a Malayan Chinese organisation. Gurney’s proposal was part of the British effort to court the Chinese middle ground and to cancel out the influence of Chinese transnational and left-wing political organisations which at the time were courting Chinese support. Gurney wanted an association that could help the colonial administration resolve the Chinese squatter problems and restore “contact between isolated Chinese communities and the authorities”.⁹⁶ Henry Gurney’s initiative came at a time when Britain’s old method of curtailing Chinese political activism had little effect. The option of deporting Chinese political activists under the Banishment Ordinance became increasingly unrealistic after the victorious Chinese Community Party closed all its ports and restricted the entry of political deportees. Also, the presence of a more settled Chinese community by the late 1940s meant that repatriation became increasingly a non-option.

Given the changed political scenario, Gurney approached an influential Chinese towkay, HS Lee – who was then a member of the Federal Council and the Chairman of the Selangor Chinese Chamber of Commerce (CCC) – to look into the possibility of setting up a Chinese political association that could provide an alternative to left-wing Chinese political movements. It was an astute political move because even though the British authority knew that some Chinese leaders like H. S. Lee and Leong Yew Koh had links with the KMT, the British felt these wealthy Chinese and their control of the CCC would provide the best countervailing force against the MCP.⁹⁷

The forming of the MCA in the post-war years saw the merging of two Chinese leaderships – the Straits-born English-educated Chinese and the wealthy Chinese towkays who at the time held control of the KMT-influenced CCC or Huay Kuan.⁹⁸ This merging of leadership of Straits Chinese and the larger Chinese-educated community was made possible due to the convergence of political and economic interests between the two groups. Both groups understood that having a common Chinese association would serve the long-term interest of the community. For the Straits Chinese, this new association would give them renewed relevance in Malayan politics. The Straits Chinese – who were English-educated, spoke little or no Chinese dialect – had long enjoyed special relations with the British administration. Using their own exclusive Straits Chinese Business Association (SCBA) as a vehicle to promote their business interests, the Straits Chinese prospered for the most part of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Their business influence started to wane after the war and so this new partnership with wealthy Chinese-educated businessmen was a wonderful opportunity to resuscitate business dealings. For the Chinese-educated, this partnership would be a good chance to lend their political voice and provide security to a Chinese community unsure of their future.⁹⁹

The merging of interest between the Straits Chinese and Chinese-educated elites in the formation of the MCA proved to be a smart move. For the Straits Chinese, the new partnership regained their political and economic influence. For the Chinese towkays co-opting, the English-educated Straits Chinese allowed them to better articulate their demands with the British administration.¹⁰⁰ The Chinese-educated community needed spokespersons who were known to the colonial administration to articulate their political and economic concerns. They found ready personalities in the likes of Straits Chinese like Tan Cheng Lock from Malacca and Lim Chee Yan from Penang. These Straits Chinese leaders were also among the few who were actively calling the administration to provide equal treatment for the Chinese.¹⁰¹

Structurally, the MCA leadership mirrors this symbiotic relation; the party’s leadership was a mix of Straits-born Chinese with Chinese business leaders who headed the various Chinese Chambers of Commerce. The MCA Central Working Committee (CWC), the party’s highest decision-making body, was headed by Tan Cheng Lock, a Straits Chinese, with strong links with the British authority. Tan was aided by a group of Chinese-educated wealthy towkays who also headed various CCC branches. The next highest level was also headed by Chinese-educated leaders who provided the much-needed grassroots link with the Chinese community. The CWC leaders were also co-opted into the British administration where they held appointments in various federal bodies and local boards.¹⁰²

The formation of the MCA was instrumental in helping the British authority win over the Chinese community. The MCA made use of its access to the CCC to obtain broad grassroots support. In the various states, members of the MCA’s CWC headed the CCC. The MCA’s CWC members were also involved in Chinese schools heading the board of governors of several prominent Chinese schools and playing a large part in helping these schools raise funds.¹⁰³

By playing the role of an “ideal broker” between the British authority and the Chinese community during the Malayan Emergency that lasted between 1948 and 1960, the MCA proved to be an effective partner in British’s effort to cancel out leftist influence among rural Chinese community. The MCA helped blunt the development of a communist-organised Chinese working class, when it assisted the colonial administration in convincing Chinese squatters to resettle in new villages.¹⁰⁴ The MCA set up branches in 314 out of 444 new villages built between 1949 and 1960 to ward the villages from MCP’s influence.¹⁰⁵ MCA members also headed local organisations and schools in these villages and mediated disputes between residents. Besides relying on funds from rich Chinese towkays, the MCA also operated a lottery to raise money to improve infrastructure in the new villages. Between 1950 and 1953, the lottery raised 4 million dollars with the bulk of the proceeds going toward funding resettlement activities in the new villages.¹⁰⁶ These activities included supporting welfare programmes, promoting small agricultural and livestock holdings for resettled families and funding educational programmes. MCA’s involvement in the Chinese community saw its membership grew to about 300,000 in 1957, the year of Malaya’s independence, with a large portion of its members coming from rural areas.¹⁰⁷

The MCA gave the British authority the much-needed Chinese leadership to quell Malaya’s post-war political flux. Given the difficult political circumstances, the MCA was instrumental in the morphing of Chinese politics from one that was transnational in nature to one that was Malayan centred. By bringing together two influential segments of the Chinese community – the wealthy towkays and the Straits Chinese – the colonial administration managed to bring about a more centrist and Malayan-centred Chinese politics. In the coming years, the British increasingly co-opted the MCA in public policy making process which turned out to be hugely crucial. By allowing the MCA to handle Chinese politics and promote Chinese socio-economic development within the Malayan context, the British inadvertently helped contribute to a workable power-sharing agreement between the Chinese leaders and Malaya’s other important political actor, the Malays. The MCA leaders were infact heavily involved in another British-designed instrument – the CLC – a committee prior to the formation of the MCA that would prove pivotal in Malaya’s ability to strike a workable power-sharing arrangement. We turn to this next.

Communities Liaison Committee and Consociational Arrangement

The CLC came on the back of the failed power-sharing attempts by the MCP – the MNP in 1946 and the AMCJA-PUTERA partnership in 1947. The CLC was the brainchild of Malcolm MacDonald, the Commissioner General for Southeast Asia who prodded Onn Jaafar, the UMNO president, to form a loose forum involving Malaya’s various leaders. MacDonald’s initiative was perhaps prompted by British concerns of Malaya’s recent political development marred by ethnic clashes involving the MCP, the Malayan Union episode and the strong leftist movements demonstrated by the MCP-MNP and the AMCJA-PUTERA partnership. The CLC was formed in 1948 involving the UMNO president, Onn Jaafar and 20 members, most of whom were members of the Federal Council. Founding members included Tan Cheng Lock and H. S. Lee who would later become core members of the MCA. The first meeting was held in December 1948 at Onn Jaafar’s residence. Unlike the AMCJA-PUTERA and the MCP-MNP partnership, the CLC meetings and negotiations were informal, wrapped in secrecy and away from the public glare. The modus operandi was geared towards finding a broad consensus and minimising friction between contending interests. Such was the arrangement that, at times, issues raised in the CLC were not discussed at individual party level to prevent unwanted “noise”. It was only after decisions had been reached by the CLC members that the agreed matter would be forwarded to the Federal Council for deliberation.¹⁰⁸

Away from public scrutiny, the CLC managed to tackle thorny issues involving non-Malay citizenship rights and Malay political and economic privileges. With regard to the issue of non-Malay citizenship, the committee acknowledged the presence of Chinese transnational attachment but argued that alienating non-Malays by not granting them Malayan citizenship would be detrimental to Malaya’s long-term political development. In his memo to the Secretary of State for the Colonies, Tan Cheng Lock pointed out that

The only effective way of weaning the China-born Chinese from being concerned with Chinese national politics is to make a generous offer to them…[W}e cannot have it both ways, i.e. prevent the Chinese from embracing the Kuomintang or any other Chinese National Party or object thereto and at the same time place obstacles to their becoming Malayan citizens.¹⁰⁹

The call to grant more liberal citizenship rights to non-Malays became a focal issue in the CLC. Using the CLC platform, Malcolm MacDonald convinced the UMNO leaders that failure to grant citizenship to non-Malays would run the risk of encouraging the Chinese population to take on extreme position and force them to align with the MCP and left-wing politics.

In exchange for granting more liberal citizenship rights to non-Malays, the CLC also agreed that Malay special rights provided in the Federation of Malaya Agreement remained non-negotiable. UMNO leaders in the CLC also wanted economic privileges to be given to Malays. This led to the setting up of the Rural and Industrial Development Authority (RIDA), the provision of government subsidies to Malay businesses and granting of access to Malays in certain industries. Other Malay demands raised in the CLC included providing employment for Malays in the public sector, greater access to education and quota allocation for Malays in non-Malay business setups. In negotiating the various demands the leaders did not take a provocative stance. Rather, the party reiterated the idea of trust and voluntary cooperation on the part of non-Malays to assist Malays economically.¹¹⁰

There were occasions when one side found it difficult to accede to the request of the other. On one occasion a Chinese businessman refused to give his approval of the special provision provided to Malays for the setting up of a bus company. This non-cooperation provoked a reaction by Malcolm Macdonald who pointed out the need to maintain the Sino-Malay business cooperation saying

….[T]he position of the Malays must be safeguarded in Malaya, that all sorts of steps should be taken and that the High Commissioner is charged with the responsibility of seeing that they are taken, to safeguard the Malays, so economically they have a proper share in the wealth of Malaya.¹¹¹

But, on the whole, the CLC provided a platform that allowed Malayan leaders to negotiate difficult issues and seek realistic political solutions. The CLC’s modus operandi that emphasised elite negotiation without public scrutiny was tactically astute; it allowed CLC members to find politically workable solutions without much public distraction. This proved crucial as the CLC negotiations concerning Malay privileges and non-Malay citizenship rights were carried out at a time of much political volatility and an uncertain post-war economic environment.

The decision by Malaya’s elites to form the CLC reemphasises the point that Malaya’s political and economic trajectory had fully taken on board the consociational logic. In hindsight, the CLC was a nursery for Malayan leaders to work out deals on acceptable institutions amidst the prevalence of exclusive ones. The success of the CLC paved the way for an eventual formation of the Alliance Party which was made up of the UMNO, the MCA and later the Malayan Indian Congress (MIC). Besides the communal-based partnerships portrayed by the CLC, the AMCJA-PUTERA and the MCP-MNP partnership, there were other political arrangements that attempted to do away with the consociational logic. We turn now to the integrationist approach.

The Second Option – The Integrationist Approach

In 1951, Onn Jaafar the founding father of UMNO attempted an alternative to the consociational logic when he established the IMP. If the CLC, AMCJA-PUTERA and the MCP-MNP alliances were attempts to reconcile the institutional differences between Malaya’s two significant actors in the search for a common platform, Onn Jaafar’s IMP was integrationist in nature that required Malaya’s autonomous communities to surrender their core values and work for common ones. It demanded that political parties (that were ethnically based) be dissolved and their members subsumed within a common political platform. More importantly, the project required negotiating Malaya’s terms of reference.

Onn Jaafar’s decision to set up a non-communal party like the IMP was prompted by several reasons. First, there continued to be doubts amongst Malaya’s major constituents about the workability of the newly-minted Federation Agreement. The contest yet again revolved around Malaya’s terms of reference. The Agreement raised nagging issues regarding non-Malay citizenship and matters regarding Malays’ and non-Malays’ political and economic rights. It was felt that a way out of this conundrum was to do away completely with ethnic politics. Second, there was dissatisfaction among some quarters on the British decision to exclude Singapore from the Federation. For these interested parties especially members of the CCC in Singapore and Penang, there should be no fear that Singapore’s Chinese majority would overwhelm Malay political dominance. Onn Jaafar felt that a non-communal party like the IMP could erase such a fear.¹¹² Finally, Onn’s decision to set up a non-communal party was probably due to his desire to convince the colonial administration that Malaya was ready for independence. He was of the belief that Malaya would be granted independence by Britain only when it could resolve its ethnic-based political challenges; hence the name Independence of Malaya Party.¹¹³

In promoting his integrationist agenda, Onn Jaafar proposed allowing non-Malays to be members of the UMNO. As President of the UMNO, Onn wanted to rename UMNO the “United Malayan National Organisation” and called on UMNO members to replace the slogan Hidup Melayu (Long Live the Malays) with a more inclusive slogan Merdeka (Independence). Onn also reiterated his ambition to work towards a possible merger with Singapore in response to calls especially from business interests in Penang and Malacca.¹¹⁴ Having failed to convince the UMNO members to allow non-Malays membership of UMNO, Onn relinquished his post as President of UMNO on 5 June 1951 and set up the IMP. On 16 September of that year, Onn together with Tan Cheng Lock, who was then the President of the MCA, and S Thuraisingham¹¹⁵ presided over the first meeting of the IMP.¹¹⁶ The party passed a number of resolutions. One of IMP’s main objectives was to establish a sovereign independent state of Malaya that would provide equality of opportunity and provide Malayans equal political, social and economic rights,¹¹⁷ an intuitive attempt at renegotiating Malaya’s terms of reference.

Onn Jaafar’s decision to establish the IMP turned out to be a political gamble that would eventually lead him into political wilderness. Though Onn was confident that his non-communal stance would get him ample support, he soon found that support for the IMP was in short supply. Chinese leaders, like Tan Cheng Lock, who had previously shown his intention to support Onn’s political plan began to distance himself from the IMP’s activities and started to have reservations on Onn’s non-communal political gambit. Unlike Onn Jaafar who gave up his post as president of the UMNO, Cheng Lock – despite presiding the first meeting of the IMP – held on to his MCA party post. Months before the setting up of the IMP on 16 September 1951, Cheng Lock wrote to George Maxwell, a former Resident General, showing his support for Onn’s proposal, but in words which fell short of a full commitment to join the IMP.¹¹⁸

Tan’s move made it apparent to Onn Jaafar that the IMP’s non-communal politics would not get much support from the MCA leadership. To be fair, Tan Cheng Lock did try to raise the issue of non-communalism in the MCA. Tan, for instance, mooted the idea to the MCA’s CWC to allow non-Chinese to take up party appointments and to have voting rights. This, however, was roundly rejected by MCA members. Strongest opposition to Tan’s proposal came from the MCA Selangor and Perak branches, both strongholds of the influential CCC.¹¹⁹

Tan’s failure to convince the MCA leadership echoed the general sentiment of the larger Chinese community that Malaya, at the time, was not prepared for an integrationist approach. In fact, Tan Cheng Lock’s deputy, the wealthy businessman, H. S. Lee, who headed the influential Selangor CCC, felt that “Tan Cheng Lock’s vision of a political utopia in Malaya – symbolised by harmonious multiracial coexistence under the leadership of the IMP or other such multiracial organisations – was mere wishful thinking”.¹²⁰ H. S. Lee together with other members of the MCA’s CWC felt that the time was not ripe for the IMP’s non-communal politics.¹²¹ More importantly, instead of advocating that the MCA join the IMP coalition, H. S. Lee surprisingly wrote to Tan Cheng Lock urging him to consider a possible UMNO-MCA alliance for the Kuala Lumpur municipal election in February 1952. Lee suggested that “if the UMNO-MCA could be established in other parts of the country, it would go a long way to achieve a united Malaya”.¹²² Despite his earlier promise to Onn Jaafar, Tan Cheng Lock could do nothing to dissuade H. S. Lee from arranging an MCA-UMNO alliance.¹²³ During the ensuing municipal election, Tan Cheng Lock chose not to comment on the MCA’s decision to partner with the UMNO, and stayed away from IMP activities during the Kuala Lumpur election.¹²⁴

H. S. Lee and the MCA’s decision to join the UMNO proved to be a well-taken gamble. Despite Onn’s initial confidence, the IMP’s integrationist non-communal formula failed to live up to expectations in the elections. The party fared poorly in Malaya’s first municipal election in Kuala Lumpur in February 1952. Out of twelve seats, the IMP only managed to win two with the remaining ten seats won by the UMNO-MCA alliance. The pull of communal politics and the attractiveness of a consociational arrangement under the UMNO-MCA ticket were evident when all six MCA candidates won the seats they contested. UMNO candidates won three out of the five seats contested.

IMP’s heavy loss could well be due to its unpreparedness in facing the election. Having been formed five months before the first municipal election, some argued that the IMP could not match the well-organised election machinery of the UMNO and the MCA. However, the election results could also reflect the premature nature of Onn Jaafar’s experiment with non-communal politics. Onn Jaafar’s IMP overlooked the prevalence of mutually exclusive ethnic institutions present in Malaya’s two dominant communities which warranted a different solution. For Malaya’s communities, choosing the IMP demanded a huge leap of faith which required them to give up some or all of their exclusive institutions. The “regrettable conclusions” of the election as pointed out by a newspaper is that “is that by and large it was, however, a communal vote”.¹²⁵

In the months following the election, the IMP found it increasingly hard to detach itself from the realities of Malaya’s communal politics. Unsurprisingly, the IMP began to relinquish its non-communal stance and started to veer towards a more consociational stance. Take, for instance, the report by IMP election agent, Yong Pung How. In a confidential memorandum to the IMP leadership, Yong pointed out that the present structure of Chinese society “necessitated the setting up of a Chinese community liaison committee”.¹²⁶ A month after the election, the IMP set up a Chinese Advisory Committee “with powers to advise and implement party policies in so far as they affected the Chinese”.¹²⁷ Though the committee was never fully operational, the proposal indicates the IMP’s recognition that their non-communal political stance needed serious rethinking.

Besides the appeal to the Chinese community, the IMP leadership also realised the need to address the Malay problem. In a surprising overture, the party’s founding member E. C. Thuraisingham wrote to Onn Jaafar, telling him that the IMP’s non-communal stance and idealism must be tempered with realism. In the letter, Thuraisingham wrote of the need to promote pro-Malay affirmative action to gain Malay support, arguing that “equality for all communities is an ideal but how can there be real equality when there is so much of inequality in practically all fields of human endeavour?”¹²⁸ In fact, Thuraisingham proposed affirmative action policy for Malays, suggesting that “a percentage of employees in non-Malays concerns should be federal citizens, at all levels of employment, and that at least a minimum of 50% of such federal citizens should be Malays”.¹²⁹ In the coming months, Onn Jaafar increasingly realised the challenge of establishing a non-communal political platform. He aptly captured Malaya’s political complex and the prevalence of mutually exclusive institutions when he said:

We have one community that desires to control the destiny of this country on the ground that they are sons and daughters of the soil. We have, on the other hand, another community which also desires to control the destiny of this country on the ground of its economic and financial influence.¹³⁰

Despite attempts to resuscitate its image, the IMP’s political relevance began to wane, no doubt aided by its vacillations of Malaya’s communal politics. In fact, in the coming years, Onn Jaafar began to take on a more communal posture. Onn was visibly disenchanted by the non-committal stance of Tan Cheng Lock and the MCA. He began to pander towards winning the Malay support and using the MCA and its leadership as a convenient target. Onn Jaafar raised the issue of the MCA being allowed to run a lottery which he said gave the MCA an unfair financial advantage. He also maintained that the MCA had transnational political linkages, saying that there remained strong links between MCA leaders and Taiwan’s Kuomintang government:

I would remind you of the delegation of the Chinese Chamber of Commerce to General Chiang Kai Shek pleading the allegiance of 98% of the Chinese in Malaya to him. I have noted with some interest that moves and demands on behalf of the Chinese population have invariably been initiated by the Chinese Chamber of Commerce and then endorsed by the MCA.¹³¹

Over time, Onn Jaafar’s incessant attacks on Chinese politics, particularly the MCA, made the IMP increasingly irrelevant. The party was now perceived as no better than other communal political parties, perhaps even a party that exhibited an extreme form of communal politics.

In the coming years, the IMP’s inchoate political philosophy saw it suffering a series of heavy election losses. In the period 1952–1953, out of 134 local government seats, the IMP only won 3. This was in sharp contrast to the UMNO-MCA performance. In 1952, the UMNO-MCA alliance won 32 out of the 43 contested seats in the various municipal and town elections. In 1953, the UMNO-MCA alliance won 64 out of the 92 seats contested in local government elections. In 1954 the alliance chalked up 69 out of the 76 seats contested. In 1955, in the landmark Federal election, the UMNO-MCA alliance won all but one of the 52 contested seats.¹³²

Given its waning political currency, the IMP ceased operation on February 1954. In its place, Onn Jaafar set up the Parti Negara, which presumably was intended as a multiracial party but increasingly took on a more Malay outlook and relied less on non-Malays for support.¹³³

In sum, it is apparent that the non-communal political vision set out by idealists like Onn Jaafar was ahead of its time. The idea came at a time when Malaya’s two dominant communities still held deeply entrenched mutually exclusive expectations and were contesting Malaya’s terms of reference. The IMP leaders failed to appreciate that for Malaya’s two communities to renounce exclusive institutions and to opt for integration it would require huge trust, which at the time was evidently wanting. There is yet a third approach that attempted to best distribute political and economic resources. We turn to this next.

The Third Option – Partition

A third option is the neatest yet potentially most fractious. It involved creating partition that aimed to ensure the maintenance of exclusive institutions without the difficulty of a consociational or power-sharing arrangement. This method involved the sectioning of Malaya into two parts; separating the majority – Chinese and urban Straits Settlements of Singapore, Penang and Malacca – from the rest of the Malay States. There were also efforts made by Kelantan and Johor, both with large Malay majorities, to break away from the Federation but the idea lacked sustained efforts.¹³⁴ This is unlike the demands made by the Straits Settlements, specifically Penang.

The partition idea was aggressively pursued by Penang between the period 1948 and 1957. For those familiar with how Malaya’s political economy was developing at the time, Penang’s demand for secession was not surprising. There was a natural tendency for Penang to reject the Federation arrangement, given its predominant non-Malay population and having had the experience of being under direct British control. The demands to stay outside the Federation were made by business interests and headed, among others, by the Penang Chamber of Commerce, the Penang CCC, the SCBA and even the Penang Indian Chamber of Commerce. In the early months after the formation of the Federation, there were emotional responses from Chinese business interests in Penang, who refused to give up their British citizenship and take on Malayan citizenship. Heah Joo Seang, who at the time headed Penang’s SCBA, remarked

I really cannot understand the desirability of donning the mantle of Malayan citizenship unless I am forced to…. It is below my dignity to do so.¹³⁵

The secessionist movement proposed various initiatives. In late 1946, the movement proposed that Penang be allowed to stay as a crown colony and for Britain to retain the Straits Settlements arrangement comprising Malacca, Penang and Singapore. They felt that, by being part of the Malay Federation, Penang would have to give up its free-port status that would erode its competitiveness when compared to Singapore. They also feared that Penang’s development interest would be compromised as “the needs and claims of Penang are likely to be drowned in the clamour of the ten other members of the Federation for their own particular needs and claims…”.¹³⁶

The calls for an alternative arrangement for Penang intensified in 1948. The economic slowdown in that year put further fear on Penang’s business interests that besides losing its free-port status, Penang’s revenue would now have to go towards subsidising poorer Malay States. The Straits Chinese were particularly apprehensive about Penang’s change of status. To them, joining the Malay Federation would mean losing their political status, which they enjoyed as British subjects. Stripped of being British subjects they would now have to accept Malay special rights which meant inter alia having reduced access to civil service appointments. These fears were underlined by a remark made by the President of Penang’s SCBA, Koh Sin Hock. In reaction to the question of Chinese loyalty and Malay special rights, he said:

I can claim to be more anak Pulau Pinang (a son of Penang) than 99 percent of the Malays living here today¹³⁷

The most vocal demand for secession came from T. W. Ong, the President of the SCBA in Singapore. On November 1948, Ong wrote to the Presidents of the SCBA in Penang and Malacca, urging them to restore the Straits Settlements and seek a referendum. Ong’s proposal was taken up by the Penang Chamber of Commerce, the Penang CCC and the Penang Indian Chamber of Commerce. It led them to set up an interim Secession Committee which was made up of several Straits and Federal Legislative Council members. The committee held its first public meeting on 13 December 1948. This was followed by another meeting on 2 January 1949 when the Secession Committee members met with Governor Malcolm Macdonald, now Governor of Malaya, to seek a referendum for partition. The request however was turned down. On 9 February 1949, the committee proceeded for a vote in the Straits Settlement Legislative Council for a partition. Again the proposal was defeated after only 10 of the 25 members of the council voted for secession.¹³⁸ Having failed to secure a vote of approval in the Straits Settlement Legislative Council, the Secession Committee – recognizing that seeking approval from the Federal Council would be an uphill task – decided to make a direct appeal to the Colonial Secretary on 15 February 1949. Again the response was negative. London, in fact, shilly-shallied the request, not replying until September 1949. This series of rejections eventually made it clear to the committee that the odds were heavily stacked against them. With the lack of leadership and no mass support, the committee knew that, short of a revolution, secession was not politically feasible.¹³⁹

The issue of secession, however, resurfaced in the period 1953–1957. This time the interested parties called for the reinstatement of the Straits Settlement arrangement comprising Singapore, Malacca and Penang. Again, this was proposed by T. W. Ong, the President of the Singapore SCBA. There was also another call from the President of the Penang SCBA, Koh Sin Hock, for the island to be a separate state and to be placed under the jurisdiction of the British crown. However, this second wave of secessionist demands was more muted and disorganised as the Straits Chinese started to have reservation and self-doubt on the possibility of Penang breaking away from the Federation.¹⁴⁰ The demands were also ill-timed coming as it did when Malaya was preparing for independence. The colonial administration’s preoccupation with Malaya’s independence effectively drowned out the secessionist movement’s request for a separate state.¹⁴¹

In sum, the calls to partition Malaya proved daunting for various reasons. First, partition required near-homogenous divisions of population, failing which it would only add to political and financial costs and an unsustainable political solution. Second, the secessionist calls were ill-timed, coming as they did at a time when Malaya was still recuperating from bitter ethnic strife and heightened Malay nationalism following the Malayan Union proposal. Third, the demands fell on deaf ears because they were made during the Emergency in 1948, a time when the British authority was preoccupied with containing the MCP’s influence over the rural Chinese community. Finally, the British administration was highly involved in the CLC which was working towards a sustainable political solution; entertaining the partition request would add to the complication. In fact, Governor Malcolm Macdonald saw the separation demand as an impediment to his Malayan cause as he felt that every effort should go into ensuring that the Federation Agreement be allowed time to work. Macdonald’s refusal to accede to the request put up by the secessionist committee on 2 January 1949 and the rejection by the Penang Resident Commissioner made clear that the demands to separate Penang from the Federation was a “proposition that the Federation Government [could not] accept”.¹⁴²

In later years, there was little reason for the British administration to attend to secessionist demands as the Federation arrangement was showing stability and positive results. Indeed, the increasing realisation of the consociational nature of Malayan politics and the evident viability of the UMNO-MCA alliance in providing a common Malayan voice saw prominent Straits Chinese like Heah Joo Seang, who headed the Penang SCBA, to join the alliance ranks. It was evident that Malaya was heading towards consociational politics. We now briefly discuss the emergence of the consociational logic.

The UMNO-MCA-MIC Consociational Arrangement: The Unity Government 1.0

The UMNO-MCA alliance was formally hatched only months before Malaya’s first municipal elections in 1952. In the 1952 Kuala Lumpur election, the first election which saw a joint UMNO-MCA representation, the Alliance won 9 out of the 12 seats. In the various municipal elections held in 1952 and 1953, the UMNO-MCA alliance won 92 out of the 124 seats.¹⁴³ Mass acceptance of the UMNO-MCA pact gained further ground in the coming years. In Malaya’s first Federal election in 1955, the Alliance registered an impressive mandate securing 51 out of 52 seats contested. And to indicate the party’s commitment to consociationalism, the 1955 Federal election saw, for the first time, the participation of the MIC under the alliance ticket. The Alliance was indeed a product of a gentleman’s agreement where the UMNO, MCA and MIC agreed to work together, initially, under a loose political partnership. Such acceptance of the Alliance’s formula was aptly captured by the Straits Times calling it a “curious feature”. While short of mentioning the term consociationalism the article encapsulates the Alliance’s power-sharing arrangement:

A curious feature of the Alliance is that it exists by virtue of a gentleman’s agreement between three political parties – the UMNO, the MCA and the MIC. This political marriage has never been regularised to define the precise relationship between these partners. To press the analogy, the partners never became one. Each retained its identity and its freedom of action. The Alliance has been no more than a voluntary subordination of the identities of the individual parties for cooperative action in the common objective of winning independence and fighting the elections last year.¹⁴⁴

The success of the UMNO-MCA-MIC alliance invites interesting questions. What could explain the success of the UMNO-MCA consociational pact when other arrangements – like the AMCJA-PUTERA, the MCP-MNP partnership, the IMP and the Partition movement – failed? Second, why did the MCA – and later the MIC – choose the UMNO over the IMP, when it was clear that the IMP’s attractive non-communal stance and support from the British administration would have meant that the non-Malay communities would get a better political deal? Finally, why didn’t the UMNO choose to go alone in the 1955 Federal elections especially when more than 80 percent of eligible voters were Malays?

One reason for the Alliance’s success in striking the right power-sharing arrangement is that both the UMNO and MCA understood the dynamics of Malaya’s politics and the need for a workable power-sharing arrangement. The colonial administration had a hand in this; they were accidental champions of the Alliance’s consociational arrangement. In establishing the CLC, the administration provided Malay elites as well as wealthy Chinese towkays, the opportunity to establish personal relations and to be sensitised to the reality of Malaya’s plural society.¹⁴⁵ The CLC, in other words, was a nursery of sort for the Alliance’s power sharing arrangement. Bringing together personalities like Tan Cheng Lock, Onn Jaafar, H. S. Lee, E. Thuraisingham and Abdul Razak Hussain – who (with the exception of Onn Jaafar) would play key roles in the tie-up between the MCA and the UMNO – the CLC exposed elites to Malaya’s divergent political, social and economic interests and complexities. From their discussions in the CLC, elites would have realized Malaya’s terms of reference and how they needed to build common institutions, avoid ethnic fragmentation and seek agreeable political, economic and social solutions. In CLC, the colonial administration brought together community leaders with exclusive institutions and interests, and forced them to try to seek a common ground and make moderate claims that would be acceptable to all.

Along similar lines, the UMNO-MCA alliance worked because the colonial administration – perhaps unintendendly – exposed Malayan elites on the constraints and challenges of a plural society and the need to consider a consociational logic. By incorporating Malayan elites in the policy process – the UMNO in the drafting of the Federation Agreement and the MCA in the setting up of new Chinese villages – the British authority exposed the two parties to the demands of a plural society and the rigours of public policy-making. For UMNO and MCA leaders, exposures to policy-making could go some way towards tempering expectations and prevent elites from making unrealistic demands. This capacity-building exercise provided by the British authority to UMNO, MCA and MIC elites gave traction to the consociational arrangement and place it high on the list of the UMNO and MCA’s strategic political calculations in the years to come.¹⁴⁶

Economic pragmatism could be another reason that the MCA chose UMNO over the IMP. MCA’s objective was to ensure that Chinese business interests would continue to access Malaya’s political resources. With Britain’s imminent withdrawal, it is not hard to imagine that MCA towkays like H. S. Lee would be realistic and pragmatic enough to place their bets on the UMNO and the Alliance party, knowing that at this stage of Malaya’s development, political, social and economic decisions would rest on not tempering with Malaya’s terms of reference. Given the circumstances, the MCA leaders must have realised that the partnership with the UMNO - whose key members were part of the bureaucracy – would not be a bad choice. It must be apparent to MCA leaders by now that with the UMNO’s ability to mobilise massive Malay support during the Malayan Union episode and with 80 percent of eligible voters being Malays, partnership with the UMNO was the best strategic choice. For the UMNO its partnership with the MCA also offered the party much-needed funds. H. S. Lee for example assured Datuk Yahya, a key figure in the UMNO, that the MCA would provide UMNO with funds as part of the coalition agreement. In July 1952, the MCA used part of its lottery proceedings to set up a Malay welfare fund.¹⁴⁷

Unlike the previous consociational arrangements (AMCJA-PUTERA, MCP-MNP), the UMNO-MCA alliance worked because the alliance made substantial efforts to design structures for joint-actions. This is very much in keeping with one of the conditions for a successful consociational democracy which requires the presence of a mixed arrangement or joint representation at the elite level that cuts across cleavages and promotes moderation.¹⁴⁸ Months after registering a convincing win in the Kuala Lumpur municipal election in 1952, the UMNO-MCA coalition set up the alliance roundtable, fashioned after the CLC. The Roundtable acted as a decision-making body for the UMNO-MCA alliance and was responsible for the setting up of the UMNO-MCA branches throughout the Peninsula. The Roundtable was also instrumental in setting up UMNO-MCA state liaison committees in the various states. Each UMNO-MCA state liaison committee comprised 12 members, with six members each from the UMNO and MCA. Besides carrying out decisions at state level, the liaison committees doubled up as coordinating bodies during elections.¹⁴⁹ These UMNO-MCA state liaison committees then set up similar liaison committees at district, town and village levels. The initiatives were important not just to make the UMNO-MCA alliance work but more importantly to reassure the British government that the two parties were serious in setting up an inter-ethnic alliance, without which independence would be more difficult.

Another reason that the UMNO-MCA alliance worked is because elites from both parties understood Malaya’s terms of reference. They used those terms of reference as a starting point when indulging in political bargaining. This ability to frame issues and bearing in mind Malaya’s terms of reference could be due to UMNO and MCA’s exposure to the processes in the CLC. This commitment to strike an optimal equilibrium to a contested Leviathan was evident during moments when trust and goodwill were evidently called for. In the local government election in Johor Bahru in 1952, the UMNO allowed the MCA to contest in areas where the Chinese were in the minority. In the Johor Bahru election, the UMNO agreed to give the MCA three of the nine contested seats, even when Malays comprised 80.8 percent of the electorate and the Chinese only 13 percent of eligible voters. The goodwill and trust were also exhibited during the crucial Federal election in 1955. In this election, the MCA was given 15 seats out of the 52 seats contested or 28.8 percent of the total seats. This was well in excess of the percentage of Chinese voters who made up only 11.2 percent. In the Federal election, the UMNO contested 35 seats, with the MIC taking the remaining 2.

The UMNO-MCA alliance worked because its members cooperated when it mattered. The Alliance’s resolve as a party was tested when the British administration imposed numerous roadblocks to stop the party’s popularity after it registered convincing wins in municipal elections. In 1953, General Gerald Templer, the High Commissioner called for the UMNO and the MCA to participate in the National Conference. This was part of British effort to force the UMNO and MCA members to allow non-elected officials to form the majority of members in the Federal Council¹⁵⁰ which – if approved – would possibly delay the UMNO-MCA bid for Malaya’s independence. The UMNO-MCA members boycotted the conference. The Alliance instead organized their own conventions between 1953 and 1954.¹⁵¹ In the conventions, the UMNO-MCA alliance pressured the British authority to allow elected members to form three-fifths of the Federal Council.¹⁵² In fact, so convinced were the UMNO and MCA leaders of the long-run viability of their partnership, that despite British efforts to stem the Alliance’s movement, Tunku Abdul Rahman, Abdul Razak Husin and Tan T. H. went to London to meet the Colonial Secretary Oliver Lyttleton in 1954 to request the British government to accede to the Alliance’s demands for an elected majority in the Federal Council and to have a Federal election that would prepare Malaya for eventual independence. The requests were initially turned down by the Colonial Office. This then prompted the Alliance to ask its members to boycott all state apparatuses, namely, the Federal Legislative and Executive Council, state, municipal and town councils but excluding local councils in the new villages due to the Emergency.¹⁵³ Besides the boycott, the Alliance also staged rallies throughout the Peninsula between June and July 1954 demanding that the British authority accede to its requests.¹⁵⁴ In July 1954, the High Commissioner of Malaya, Donald McGillivray held talks with key Alliance leaders, Tunku Abdul Rahman, H. S. Lee and Abdul Razak Husin, assuring the UMNO and MCA leaders that the British had agreed to the party’s request for a Federal election with a view of possible independence.

Finally, the UMNO-MCA consociational formula worked because it had the mandate of the Malayan public. The consensus reached at the elite level was reciprocated at the mass level. The alliance’s victories in the various municipal elections between 1952 and 1954 and its convincing victory in the crucial Federal election in 1955 that would determine Malaya’s readiness for independence showed Malayans’ overwhelming acceptance of the Alliance’s consociational logic.

It became increasingly apparent to the colonial administration that support for the Alliance and its brand of consociational politics was gaining good ground. The success of the Alliance’s national conventions, the party’s convincing victory in the 1955 election and its resolute demand for independence gave a clear enough impression to the British authority that the Malayan public at the time saw the UMNO-MCA alliance as attractive and workable. The alliance’s broad acceptance among the Malayan public indicated to the British authority that it would be more sensible to pursue the Alliance’s power sharing formula than to place its bet on Onn Jaafar’s IMP non-communal politics.

The UMNO-MCA alliance mirrors Lijphart’s (1969) opinion that for consociational democracy to work, the different political communities and their elites must understand the dangers of political fragmentation that will then encourage a commitment to cooperate. Judging from their performance in the elections and the formation of state liaison committees, the UMNO and the MCA understood the perils of fragmentation and the need to reinforce cooperation and impose moderation. The power-sharing arrangement embodied in the UMNO-MCA alliance was more than a marriage of political convenience hatched on the eve of elections.

Conclusion

The post-war years leading to Malaya’s independence show the coming into form of Malaya’s plural society manifested by the presence of two large autonomous communities with exclusive sets of institutions and expectations. The war and post-war period exposed the competing interests and expectations of these two communities. This period saw the intermeshing of ideas and expectations between Malaya’s communities and such interactions laid bare the potency of mutually exclusive ethnic institutions. The ethnic strife after the Japanese surrender, the Malayan Union episode and the “Malayan Spring” exposed the deep institutional divide of Malaya’s different communities that had competing expectations.

This post-war period saw the extent to which autonomous exclusive institutions negotiated their interests and in the process exacted different demands on Malaya’s terms of reference. Various institutional permutations were tried: consociationalism, integration and partition. The IMP’s integrationist approach failed because the project demanded a recalibration of Malaya’s terms of reference. The approach required non-Malays to give up their exclusive identity and demanded Malays to dilute Malay privileges. Put differently, the IMP’s formula required autonomous communities to place large doses of trust on each other, something that was difficult for Malaya’s plural communities at the time when Malayan communities found greater comfort and security in their own exclusive ethnic institutions and interests. The IMP’s call for Malayans to drop their ethnic concerns and promote a pan-Malayan outlook was indeed ambitious.

The partition movement initiated by the Straits Settlements of Penang and Singapore was also a non-starter. Essentially the proposition was an attempt to demarcate the Straits Settlements’ terms of reference from that of Malaya’s. On paper, this is a neat proposition. The Straits Settlements, especially Penang and Singapore, had developed different political, economic and social character under British colonial rule. Both did not inherit a Malay monarchy, were not subject to indirect rule, had sizeable Chinese population and had an economy that operated largely on neoliberal principles. But given the contiguous nature of Penang and Malacca with mainland Malay States and given the sizeable Malay population in both Penang and Malacca, the idea would prove politically and financially costly. While many initially thought that excluding Singapore from the Federation was not a sensible decision, the initial decision to exclude Singapore turned out to be prescient. Singapore’s different terms of reference from that of Malaya made the Union with the Federation in 1963 unsustainable. We discuss this in the next chapter.

The consociational arrangement stood out. In fact, out of the several political permutations that Malaya saw during this period, four exhibited some form of a power-sharing arrangement (the AMCJA-PUTERA, the MCP-MNP partnership, the CLC and the UMNO-MCA Alliance). This higher number of power-sharing arrangement testifies that Malaya’s political constituents understood the consociational logic. The failure of the AMCJA-PUTERA and the MCP-MNP experiment lay with their rigidity and ambitious demands that would require each party to give up “core” values, something which was difficult. The AMCJA-PUTERA’s People’s constitution and the MCP-MNP’s leftist approach were attempts at redesigning Malaya’s terms of reference that proved unattractive and untenable. The two propositions required Malays and non-Malays to shed their exclusive identities and to be subsumed by a new Malayan identity, one that both communities were not prepared. The republican nature of the MCP-MNP alliance dominated by Chinese communist leadership made the coalition especially unattractive to Malays. The consociational logic however worked with the UMNO-MCA alliance. The coalition worked because its members – who were already highly exposed to public policy-making – took into account the sharpness of the institutional divide and attempted to bridge the divide by forming an institutional arrangement that encouraged moderation without infringing too much on Malaya’s terms of reference.¹⁵⁵ The core terms of reference were preserved: Malay leadership was kept, Islam was made the official religion of the Federation and a constitutional Malay monarchy was installed operating under a representative democracy. When measured against Lijphart’s (2008) consociational design, the UMNO-MCA-MIC alliance was more viable against all other permutations because of a number of factors: the elites’ ability to accommodate divergent interests of constituent actors, their ability to transcend the schism and form a real partnership, their commitment to maintain an existing system (terms of reference) and to work towards improving cohesion and stability and their ability to fully understand the repercussions of political fragmentation.¹⁵⁶ The UMNO-MCA-MIC alliance and the consociational formula that the parties designed would come under severe test in the years after independence. We turn to this next.

Notes

Harper (1999).

Png (1961, pp. 1–7), Leong (1977, pp. 41–42).

Png (1961, pp. 1–7), Leong (1977, pp. 41–42).

Harper (1999, p. 46).

Harper (1999, p. 46).

Read Soernarno (1960, pp. 20–21).

Harper (1999, p. 47).

Harper (1999, p. 116).

Ahmad (1979, pp. 67–22).

Harper (1999, p. 117).

Harper (1999, p. 119).

Harper (1999, pp. 118–19).

See Harper (1999) for a full account.

Harper (1999, p. 123).

The “MCP connection was the kiss of death to the MNP” that led to MNP losing legitimacy among the Malay peasantry. See Harper (1999, p. 121).

Harper (1999, p. 125).

Harper (1999, p. 125).

Harper (1999, p. 127).

MCP’s Chin Peng own admission. See Cheah (2012, p. 149).

Stockwell (1979, p. 76).

Malayan Security Service, Political Intelligence Journal no.12/47.

For the collaboration between the MPAJA and the British government read Purcell (1948, p. 259).

The China Distress Relief Fund was to raise money among overseas Chinese to help fund China’s war effort, Malaya was the largest contributor to the fund Purcell (1948, p. 263).

Read Purcell (1967, p. 258) and Cheah (1977, pp. 54–56).

For a full account of the MCP and KMT involvement read Harper (1999, pp. 48–50).

Harper (1999, p. 48).

Mountbatten to Chiefs of Staff, 12 May 1945 War Office, 203/2967 cited in Cheah (1977, p. 58).

Cheah (1977, p. 58).

Brimmel (1956, p. 15).

Purcell (1967, pp. 263–4).

Harper (1999, p. 95).

Harper (1999, p. 174).

Harper (1999, p. 5).

Miller (1954, p. 51).

Harper (1999, pp. 110–11).

See Harper (1999, p. 111).

Harper (1999, p. 108).

For a full description see Harper (1999, pp. 107–14).

Harper (1999, p. 99).

Harper (1999, p. 98).

See Harper (1999, p. 104).

Harper (1999, pp. 98–99).

Harper (1999, p. 102).

Besides Selangor, in Perak, for example, no land could be granted, except those for forest reserves or Malay reservation Harper (1999, p. 104); “Chinese squatter settlement: summary of replies from states/settlements”. FS/2318/48.

Hack (2001, p. 114).

Harper (1999, p. 107).

Harper (1999, p. 107).

Harper (1999, p. 107).

See Harper (1999, p. 114).

MCP Review, No.2, May 1948, reported in MSS/PIJ/10/1948 cited in Harper (1999, p. 114).

See Harper (1999, p. 114).

Memo from Mr Rich to Colonial Office, Tronoh Mines Ltd, Kempas Section, 30 December 1945, CO 537/1533.

Hack (2001, p. 115) and Chin (1976, pp. 117–20).

Harper (1999, pp. 56, 307). Also read Caine (1958, p. 262).

In days before the war ended, a secret memo was sent to MCP members that the MPAJA was a “liberation army” in the struggle to form People’s Democratic Republic.” In December 1945, during the “Second Enlarged Meeting” of the MCP Central Executive Committee, the Secretary General Lai Teck called for the overthrow of the Malayan government. Read Brimmel (1956, pp. 15–18).

The large number of Malays and Indians was not surprising as Malays and Indians served under the Japanese administration (Cheah, 1977, p. 70).

Pye (1956, p. 71).

For a full account read Cheah (1977). The MPAJA and elements of the KMT refused to disarm.

H. R. Hone, Report on the British Military Administration in Malaya, September 1945 – March 1946, cited in Cheah (1981, p. 115).

Draft Directive on Policy in Malaya in Appendix I of the report of War Cabinet Committee on Malaya and Borneo, CAB 98/41, dated 18 May 1941. In Cheah (1979, p. 12).

Minutes by Edward Gent, 11 April 1942 CO 825/35 no. 55104.

Minutes by Edward Gent, 11 April 1942 CO 825/35 no. 55104.

Gruesome accounts of how Chinese were massacred by the Japanese could have influenced British policy on the status of Chinese in Malaya.

Memorandum in Allen (1967, p. 132).

Long term Policy Directives: Chinese Policy, 27 April 1945, CO 537/1533.

Telegram from Johor Bahru to Supreme Allied Commander for Southeast Asia (SACSEA) 20 November 1945, in WO 172/1792.

For the full account read Cheah (1977).

Lau (1989, p. 228).

Details of the Malayan Union were not finalized until after McMichael visit.

During the Japanese occupation, many new Malay rulers were appointed. These Malay rulers were unsure and feared that their appointment would get the approval of the British government, hence the willingness to sign the Malayan Union document.

The Sultan of Kedah to Sir Frank Swettenham cited in Allen (1967, p. 169).

The Sultan of Selangor to Lord Marchwood, 18 February 1946, cited in Debates on the Straits Settlements (Repeal) Bill in the House of Commons on 8 March 1946 taken from Allen (1967 in Appendix D, excerpt D.5, pp. 170–71).

On 21 August 1945, there was violent Chinese-Malay skirmishes in district of Muar-Batu Pahat, in the Johor State and the BMA reported that refugees in Muar amounted to 10,000. See Cheah (1977, p. 70).

Sopiee (1976, pp. 38–39).

Noh (2014, p. 247)

4 May 1946, Gent to Hall in CO 537/1529 no. 50823.

30 April 1946 Malayan Security Service MSS/PIJ cited in Lau (1989, p. 229).

Allen (1967, p. 70).

Malayan Press Comment on the White Paper on Malayan Union in CO 537/1536 no. 50823/6/4.

Leadership of the community during the war years were helmed by the MCP and the KMT. The war years discredited Chinese traditional leaders. Some fled Malaya while others who stayed behind did not join the resistance movement and were deemed as Japanese collaborators, as they helped the Japanese raised $50 million.

Read Godley (1989) who describes the plight of returnees to mainland China where they were put to do hard labour and where many then escaped to Hong-Kong and Taiwan.

Noh (2022, pp. 232–233).

The MDU first set up the Council for Joint Action in Singapore on December 1946. Only later was the council extended to the Malay States with the setting up of the All Malayan Council for Joint Action.

Cheah claims that the MDU had links with MCP. The MCP worked on two levels to manipulate the MDU. The first level involved having MCP members as representatives on MDU’s committee and the second level involved having key MCP members among MDU’s top leadership. For more details read Cheah (1979, pp. 74–75).

MDU rejection of the Malayan Union was a belated reaction as until December 1946 “the colonial office had encountered little overt opposition from the non-Malays as it engaged in confidential discussions with the Malays” (Lau, 1989, p. 229).

Malay Mail, 23 December 1946 cited in Sopiee (1976, p. 39).

The AMCJA first asked the Chinese Chamber of Commerce (CCC) to join its ranks. The CCC initially refused, mainly due to AMCJA’s links with the left-wing MDU and MCP. In later years, the CCC changed its mind after the British authority refused to concede to CCC demands of granting non-Malays citizenship right based on jus soli and British refusal to include Singapore in the Federation. In Heng (1988, p. 49).

The six point agreement include: a United Malaya inclusive of Singapore; a fully elected central legislature for the whole of Malaya; equal political rights for all who regard Malaya as their real home; the Malay Sultans to assume the position of fully sovereign and constitutional rulers, accepting the advice not of British advisers but of the people; matters of Islam and Malay customs to be under the sole control of the Malays; special advancement of the Malays.

This was launched in October 1947 Read Lau (1989, p. 241) and Cheah (1979, p. 137).

23 September 1947, The Straits Times

O. H. Morris, 13 November 1947, CO 537/2146 no. 52243/2/1 cited in Lau (1989, pp. 241–2).

Read Sopiee (1976, footnotes, p. 155).

Cheah (1979, p. 65).

Cheah (1979, p. 66).

Political Intelligence Journal MSS, 30 April 1947 cited in Cheah (1979, p. 67).

Henry Gurney, Federal Legislative Council Proceedings, 17 February 1949, B 771 cited in Heng (1988, p. 55).

During the Malayan Emergency, Leong Yew Koh proposed to the High Commissioner Henry Gurney that he could recruit 10,000 KMT soldiers based in Taiwan.

One of the wealthy towkays was HS Lee who was a member of the KMT. This is known to the British administration. Read Heng (1988, pp. 87–89).

Read Godley (1989)

MCA leaders were linked with the KMT. Some of the prominent KMT leaders in the MCA were Lau Pak Kuan, Leong Yew Koh, Ong Chin Seong, Peh Seng Koon, H S Lee, Ong Keng Seng and Goh Chee Yan. Read Heng (1988, p. 84).

There are various works that describe the MCA. Read Heng (1988, pp. 56–60), Wang (1970) and Yong (1977).

Heng (1988, p. 62).

Heng (1983, p. 298).

Heng (1983, p. 299).

Read Heng (1988, pp. 78–79).

Heng (1988, p. 109).

Heng (1983, p. 300).

The above description is largely gathered from Heng (1988, p. 149) and Sopiee (1976).

Tan Cheng Lock Confidential Memorandum on Malaya submitted to the right honourable James Griffiths, Secretary of State for the Colonies, 19 May 1950, Tan Cheng Lock Papers, SP 13, Item 169, Arkib Negara cited in Heng (1988, p. 149).

In Heng (1988, pp. 149–51).

Notes of Discussion of the Communities Liaison Committee held on the 13 August 1949.

Read Sopiee (1976, p. 101).

Inter-ethnic cooperation was a prerequisite set by the British for the transfer of power to Malayans. The colonial authorities believed that the races needed to work together to counter the Malayan Communist Party’s. See Lee (2010).

The Singapore Free Press, 6 June 1951.

Tan Cheng Lock and Thuraisingham were both keen to form a political organization free from ethnic affiliation.

Sopiee (1976, p. 101).

In Vasil (1971b, p. 50).

12 July 1951, Letters from Tan Cheng Lock to Sir George Maxwell, Tan Cheng Lock Papers, TCL/V/148.

Heng (1988, p. 158).

Heng (1988, p. 161).

The MCA state working committee felt that Tan Cheng Lock’s idea of an alliance with the IMP and to allow MCA to be non-communal was premature as they were convinced that Malaya’s politics was still dominated by ethnic consideration.

Letter from H S Lee to Tan Cheng Lock dated 18 February 1952, Tan Cheng Lock Papers, TCL /9/33.

MCA decision to join UMNO put Tan Cheng Lock in a difficult position. Tan Cheng Lock was also hesitant to involve himself in the setting up of an IMP branch in Malacca despite his earlier promise, preferring instead to allow Tan Siew Sin, his son to write to Onn Jaafarassuring the latter of the active support of Tan Cheng Lock. Tan Siew Sin to Dato Onn Jaafar, 18 January 1952, Tan Cheng Lock Papers, TCL /9/38.

Vasil (1971b, p. 64).

The Straits Times, 17 February 1952 cited in Vasil (1971b, p. 60).

Memorandum to the Kuala Lumpur Branch Committee from the former election agent, Petaling Ward, Kuala Lumpur, Yong Pung How cited in Vasil (1971b, pp. 61–62).

Minutes of Branch Committee Meeting, Kuala Lumpur, 11 March 1952 cited in Vasil (1971b, p. 62).

Personal letter dated 2 July 1952 to Dato Onn Jaafar by EEC Thuraisingham cited in Vasil (1971b, pp. 67–68).

Personal letter dated 2 July 1952 to Dato Onn Jaafar by EEC Thuraisingham cited in Vasil (1971b, pp. 67–68).

Sunday Times, 18 September 1952.

The Malay Mail, 26 March 1953.

See Heng (1988, p. 168).

Many non-Malays were kept out as Parti Negara as the party refused applicants who had stayed in Malaya for the past ten years but chose to remain non citizens. Over time Parti Negara took on a more Malay outlook.

These were sporadic, disorganized demands. It was a knee jerk reaction to the Federation agreement. For more see Sopiee (1976, pp. 61–67).

(“Federal Misgiving of the Straits -born” 1948) cited in Sopiee (1976, p. 61).

Straits Echo, 30 December 1946.

(1948)

There was a string of dramatic move carried out by the secessionist committee. After their request was rejected by Malcolm Macdonald, the Committee then made the decision to table its motion for a separation in the Straits Legislative Council and Federal Council which was due to meet in February. When the committee tabled its proposal in the Legislative Council, three members of the council who were having a Sino-Malay Goodwill Committee meeting in Johor rushed to Penang in time for the council meeting where the council voted overwhelming against the proposal. Read Sopiee (1976, pp. 65–67).

Sopiee (1976, pp. 65–67).

Read Sopiee (1976, p. 67).

Sopiee (1976) provides a detailed account of why the movement failed to convince the British government for Penang to be separate from the Federation, pp. 70–74.

(1949) cited in Sopiee (1976, p. 67).

Ting (1976, p. 171).

The Straits Times, 12 July 1956 cited in Vasil (1971b, p. 13).

Fernando (2002, p.18).

It was apparent that British officials and High Commissioner like General Templer and Malcolm Macdonald were more comfortable with the IMP, and wanted it to work. This was evident because despite the UMNO-MCA success in local elections in 1952 and 1953, the British administration still nominated more IMP leaders compared to the UMNO-MCA leaders. See Heng (1988, p. 181).

Heng (1988, p. 164).

Read Lijphart (2008, pp. 25–39).

Minutes of the fifth MCA cabinet meeting held on 3 October 1952, p. 10; minutes of the seventh MCA cabinet meeting held on 9 March 1953, p. 12; and T. H. Tan, Secretary to Alliance, “Memorandum on Alliance Organization, Election Machinery and Finance”, mimeo, 26 October 1954. Also by 1954, 30 UMNO-MCA Liaison Committees were established at the state, district, town and village levels. Cited in Heng (1988, p. 169).

The Conference was called to get UMNO-MCA to agree for British-appointed unofficial members to make up the majority of the members of the federal legislative council (48 nominated versus 44 elected members). This meant that the UMNO-MCA would have a minority voice despite winning the elections. This meant that postponing Independence as one of the conditions for independence was for the legislative council to have majority of elected members. Heng (1988, p. 182).

This convention was held on 23 August 1953, 11 October 1953 and 14 February 1954.

The Election Working Committee preferred to take on board IMP leaders, including Onn Jaafar, as members of the committee. During the conventions, plans were put together to seek ways for an eventual Malayan independence. Some of the important resolutions passed by the conventions included the call for an elected majority in the reconstituted Federal Council, to allow civil servants to stand for elections and to hold the important Federal Elections no later than November 1954, which was eventually held in April 1955. Also, non-elected membership will be phased out gradually, p. 183.

See Heng (1988, p. 186).

Malayan Mirror, Vol. 2, No. 13, 15 July 1954, p. 186.

Read Lijphart (2008, pp. 25–39).

Lijphart (2008) provides four guidelines for a successful consociational democracy, p. 32.

6 May 1969 and the Events Leading to It

DOI: 10.4324/9781003320548-6

Introduction

After more than 100 years of British presence, a newly independent Malaya had the challenging task of administering a society that was hugely different from the political economy of a collection of Malay States at the start of British presence. On the eve of its independence, Malayans inherited a highly plural, fragmented and potentially contentious polity. Ethnic-based political parties, ethnic-based schools, an economy driven by foreign and non-Malay interests, a dominant Malay bureaucracy and a rural-urban demographics defined by sharp ethnic composition, had become defining features of Malayan society. What also stood out on Independence Day was that Malayans, wittingly or unwittingly, opted for the consociational or power-sharing arrangement.

What is obvious is that the first 12 years of independence intensely tested Malayans’ disposition at striking an equilibrium to contending interests. This period saw Malaya’s terms of reference coming under heavy contestation. While parliamentary democracy and deliberative politics allowed for this, the design of the Malayan Federal Constitution also encouraged this political contestation. To start, the Malayan constitution was a product of a “permissive constitutional approach”,¹ an approach that saw constitutional drafters circumventing direct conflicts and reconciling deep disagreements by adopting strategies like indecisiveness, ambiguity and vagueness. By being vague and ambiguous, the framers of the Malayan constitution avoided conflict at the time of independence and “transferred these decisions from the legal/constitutional level to the realm of ordinary parliamentary politics”.² So while Malay, Islam and Monarchy defined the essence of the constitution, there are clauses in the constitution that provided space for contestation of these terms. This “permissive constitutional approach” afforded a deliberative approach which is facilitated by parliamentary democracy. Indeed, this was what happened in the years after independence. Between 1957 and 1969, there were many episodes of contest of the country’s terms of reference exacted by mutually exclusive ethnic institutions and interests. We look now at the different episodes.

The 1959 General Election

The general election of 1959 was the first litmus test of the robustness of the character of Malaysia’s political economy formed after years of British administration. The election was the first gauge of public endorsement of the Alliance Party’s policies since 1955. It was also a test of Malayans’ endorsement of the terms of reference spelt out in the federal constitution.

The election saw many new political parties. All, if not most, sought support from specific ethnic communities. There was the Parti Negara, headed by Onn Jaafar. Unlike his previous party, the IMP, that he founded, Onn’s new Parti Negara, courted Malay votes and appealed to Malay nationalism. There was also the Semangat Pemuda Melayu, a party that concentrated on wooing Malay voters. There was the People’s Progressive Party, a party set up in the state of Perak by two Ceylonese Tamil brothers whose support came mainly from Chinese and Indian voters. There were also two parties that would pose a formidable challenge to the Alliance Party, the Socialist Front and the Pan-Malayan Islamic Party (PMIP). The Socialist Front was a coalition of two parties – the Labour Party and the Parti Rakyat. The Front fought on labour and class issues and hoped to bring an end to ethnic politics. Novel as their ideas are, both the Labour Party and Parti Rakyat relied on contrasting vote banks. The Labour Party counted among their supporters, Chinese voters mainly in the urban areas in Selangor and Penang who were finding the Malayan Communist Party (MCP) increasingly unattractive.³ The Parti Rakyat in contrast relied on rural Malays, specifically fishermen and rural workers. Another party that posed a formidable challenge to the Alliance in 1959 election was the PMIP. Formed under a different name in 1948, the party was led by Dr Burhanuddin Al-Helmy, a free-lance journalist and a former President of the Malay Nationalist Party. The party mainly sought support from Muslim religious functionaries in rural areas and among Malay and Islamic school teachers. The PMIP had a huge following in the Malay agricultural hinterlands, specifically in the east coast and the northern states of Kelantan, Terengganu, Kedah and Perlis. Even now, the PMIP, now called PAS (Parti Islam SeMalaysia), still hold considerable political sway in these states.

The 1959 elections were vastly different from the 1955 elections. To start the number of electoral seats in contest in the latest election doubled from the 52 seats in the 1955 election. The 1959 election also saw a sharp increase in the numbers voters as a result of new citizenship and naturalisation laws. The election saw 2.17 million voters compared to 1.28 million in 1955, a two-fold increase. The most apparent increase involved Chinese voters. It was estimated that there were 750,000 Chinese voters in the 1959 election compared to 150,000 in 1955. In all, about 57 percent of the voters were Malays, 36 percent Chinese, with Indian voters making up 7 percent. This was a sharp contrast from the 1955 elections where 84 percent of voters were Malays, 11 percent Chinese and 5 percent Indians.⁴ Understandably, the key sites that saw huge demographic changes were in urban and industrialised electoral seats, seats that saw a high concentration of non-Malay voters. In the state of Perak for example, the voting population more than doubled from 201,000 to 450,000. Chinese voters formed the bulk of the electorate in Perak making up 47 percent of the voting public while Malay voters made up 36 percent of the electorate.⁵ In the state of Selangor, Chinese made up over 50 percent of the voting public, whereas Malays made up 26 percent of the electorate. In Malay rural hinterland in states like Kelantan and Terengganu, the demographics remained the same with Malays making up 91 percent of the electorate.⁶

Towards polling day, many touted that the Alliance party would not be able to return the impressive results it obtained in the 1955 election. This is because the Alliance party fared poorly in the various state and municipal elections in the years prior to the 1959 general election, losing substantial grounds in states like Penang, Perak and Selangor, states that had since seen huge changes in voters’ demographic profile. In the 1956 municipal elections in Penang, the Alliance lost all eight seats; the party also lost in the legislative council by-election in the state of Perak the same year. The Alliance was also losing the Malay grounds. The party suffered losses in the state elections in Kelantan and Terengganu – both Malay majority states.

Heading towards the election in 1959, it was apparent that the consociational stance adopted by the Alliance would face huge challenges given the glaring competing demands that political parties were exacting on Malaya’s terms of reference. The Parti Negara, headed by Onn Jaafar, turned its attention to Malay rights and privileges. Onn called for more safeguards to Malay rights and privileges, a sharp contrast to his egalitarian stance when he led the IMP. He took the government to task, complaining that the Federal constitution had not done enough for the Malays. The People’s Progressive Party (PPP), which appealed to non-Malay voters and largely operating from the state of Perak, had contrasting demands. Founded by two Ceylonesse Tamil brothers, S. P. and D. R. Seenivasagam, the party’s manifesto demanded class solidarity of workers, the acceptance of Tamil and Chinese as official language, equal citizenship laws on the principle of jus soli, equal privileges for all and the amendments to immigration and education laws that give equal treatment to all.⁷ The party condemned Malay nationalism and to woo the non-Malay ground, the party demanded that the constitution be amended to allow for equal rights, equal privileges, multilingualism and “one class of citizenship”.⁸ The party also called for the continuation of vernacular schools where medium of instruction should be in the ethnic mother tongue with Malay made a compulsory subject. The Socialist Front, specifically its component party, the Labour Party, entered the election from a position of strength after it trounced the Alliance Party in the 1956 Penang Municipal Elections where it captured five out of the eight seats. Sensing a huge win in the 1959 election, the Socialist Front fielded 37 candidates. The party contested in all states except in the predominantly Malay east coast states of Kelantan and Perlis. The socialist front spoke the language of egalitarianism and equality, urging the removal of Malay privileges. The Front came up with a manifesto that entailed plans to eliminate racial separatism, set up a socialist economy, establish national enterprises, remove middlemen through setting up agricultural cooperatives, introduce an unemployment insurance scheme and eliminate racial separatism.⁹ The PMIP however had contrasting demands from that of the PPP and the Socialist Front. Led by Dr Burhannuddin the party made a couple of pledges in its manifesto. The first is to have stringent citizen laws for non-Malays. The second is for immigration laws to be more restrictive for non-Malays. The third is to reserve the posts of Mentri besar (Chief Minister), ministers, governors and heads of the armed forces to Malays. The fourth is that Malay should be the only official language. The fifth is that the education policies must be Malay-oriented and the sixth is that there should only be a Malay nationality and not that of other ethnicities.¹⁰ The PMIP targeted the Malay hinterlands and chose to speak in Malay in its rallies or ceramahs. In the heat of the election campaigning, the party accused the UMNO leaders, like Tunku Abdul Rahman, of selling out Malay birthrights after the UMNO agreed to relax the citizenship rules. To the party, the granting of citizenship to non-Malays was seen as unnecessary, improper and a betrayal of Malay interests. The party also mentioned the need to preserve the rights of the Malay sultans. It reminded Malays that the UMNO was not a natural vanguard to Malay and monarchical rights and that they saw in UMNO leaders apologists to colonial terms. The PMIP also called for greater incorporation of Islam, invoking that Malays should not look at culture and religion as separate because in Islam there is no separation between the spiritual and the secular world.¹¹

The 1959 election was hard fought. The election campaigning was highly divisive with political parties invoking Malaya’s terms of reference in various manners and directions. Surprisingly, the Alliance Party secured two-thirds of parliamentary seats. The party’s popular vote however declined sharply from 80 percent in the 1955 election to just 51.5 percent in the 1959 elections. The results showed a sharply divided populace; Malayans voted largely along ethnic lines. The Alliance won all seats in the majority Malay States of Kedah, Perlis, Johor and Pahang and all but two seats in the state of Negeri Sembilan. The Socialist Front made inroads in urban seats with large non-Malays, specifically the Chinese population. The Front which secured majority seats in the Penang municipal elections won three out of eight seats in Penang. In Selangor, the Socialist Front won 5 of the 14 seats. The PPP won four seats, all in majority non-Malay seats in Perak. The PMIP retained its dominance in the east coast Malays states of Kelantan and Terengganu. The party took 13 of the 16 seats contested in the two states. The PMIP’s popular vote also rose from a low of 3.99 percent in 1955 to 21.2 percent in the 1959 elections. The biggest casualty was Onn Jaafar’s Parti Negara. The party won only one seat, a seat won by Onn himself.

The results of the 1959 elections, the bitter contestion and the contrasting demands by political parties fit the Contested Leviathan Framework. The election demonstrates the extent to which exclusive ethnic institutions and interests – represented by political parties – made contrasting demands on Malaya’s terms of reference. For parties that were courting the non-Malays, the proposition was to contest and dilute the terms of reference, specifically Malay privileges and the role of Islam. For parties who were courting for Malay votes, the electoral campaign was geared toward entrenching Malay privileges and Islam. While the election results secured the Alliance for another 5 years, the contested leviathan would be subject to severe test in the coming years.

The Merger with Singapore and the Formation of Malaysia

Unlike the popular belief that Malaysia and Singapore are similar, a close reading of their political, social and economic character shows that these are two contrasting polities so incompatible that a merger should never be an option. Despite people-to-people interactions, cultural bonds and family ties, Malaya and Singapore had different institutional sets and political economies. Under the British, Singapore was a crown colony, part of the Straits Settlement, administered first from Calcutta, and then from London in 1867. To Britain, Singapore was the “Queen of the further East”, the biggest entrepot trading centre, east of the Suez. Singapore was a major trading nerve for Malaya and the region. Liberal economics and capitalism loomed large in the organising of the Singapore society then and still now.

Being a thriving trading hub and at the centre of an important sea route in the Malay archipelago, Singapore naturally drew migrants from outside the Malay archipelago, mainly from China and India. By the 1960s, Singapore’s population was nearly homogenous; 75 percent of its population was Chinese. Very much in keeping with the nature of its political economy, Singapore’s politics in the 1950s and 1960s were heavily dominated by issues of economic well-being, of capitalism, of socialist ideas, of labour rights and of ideas of egalitarianism and meritocracy. Political parties in Singapore were organised on these imperatives, the prominent ones being the Labour front, the People’s Action Party (PAP), the Barisan Sosialis and the Workers Party. In a near-homogeneous society that is organised on economic competition, inter-ethnic politics so dominant in the Malay States were evidently absent.

While post-independent Malaya was experiencing inter-ethnic politics, Singapore politics, at the time of the merger talks, were dominated by intra-Chinese politics. The period saw the tussle between Singapore’s Chinese-educated and English-educated population which was entangled with socialist and capitalist ideas. Singapore’s political parties, trade unions, rural associations and Chinese educational institutions were sites for socialist movements which was a huge concern for the colonial administration. There was the fear among British administrators that the inability to put down Chinese politics and socialist ideas in Singapore would produce security repercussions to the rest of the region.¹² In the age of the cold war and the possible domino effect, Singapore’s falling into communist rule was real and unacceptable to the British.

It was under such circumstances that both Malaya and Singapore leaders entered the merger talks. The contrast in the politics, economics and social system between the Federated Malay States and Singapore was palpable and the conflict that came with the merger should not come as a surprise. There were stark differences between the two countries.

In terms of politics, the heavy presence of socialist ideas and dominance of Chinese politics in Singapore put fear in Malayan leaders that Singapore’s inclusion would aggravate ethnic politics. Malayan leaders feared that an economically well-developed Chinese-majority state with a huge leftist movement could exacerbate Malaya’s political woes. Singapore’s demographics would offset Malaya’s racial balance that would only intensify the contest on the country’s terms of reference. This fear was not unfounded. As far as Malayan leaders were concerned, Malaya just recovered from a bruising 1959 elections which saw the country’s terms of reference coming under heavy attack from both Malays and non-Malays. If the Malayan leaders had their fears, Singapore’s different terms of reference from Malaya should have also raised red flags for Singapore leaders. Indeed, it would not be hard to imagine that Singaporeans would have found Malaya’s terms of reference – Malay, Islam and Monarchy – alienating just as Malayans would find Singapore’s brand of political economy – dominated by labour, liberal economics, class considerations, socialism and Chinese politics – equally alienating. It is puzzling why these glaring differences were lost on both leaders. Both Singapore and Malayan leaders pushed for merger and ignored the red flags.

Contrasting economic structures also made for a difficult merger project. The Malayan economy was mainly an agricultural and resource-based economy with a strong presence of state enterprises and cooperatives and doses of affirmative action policies. Singapore’s economy thrived on trading of goods and services and highly hinged on free-market ideals. Merger would mean a clash of economic structures that could produce political and social repercussions. For Malaya, merger would mean that the Malayan economy – couched in a blend of capitalist-socialist practices with strong state intervention – would have to negotiate Singapore’s open, laissez-faire, capitalist economy that could have social and political impact. For Singapore, the practice of cross subsidies to other states, for example, would be problematic given its ideals of capitalism, competition and efficiency. Indeed, taxation, unsurprisingly, became an issue during the merger talk. Malaya expected Singapore to contribute more, beyond the per capita basis which the Singapore leaders disagreed. In arguing its case the Malayan leaders reasoned that the taxation quantum was in return for Malaya spending on Singapore’s security needs. Also, the merger would allow Singapore greater access to the Malay hinterland and a near frontier economy. Access to a common market, Malayan leaders argued, would work in Singapore’s favour.

The Merger Dynamics

Ethnicity was a dominant consideration in the merger talk. Singapore’s 75 percent Chinese population had huge social, political and economic ramifications for Malaya. Communism was another factor that worried the Malayan leaders, embittered by Malaya’s own experience with the MCP in the post-war years. Singapore’s battle with communism was real. The incessant riots over labour-related issues and Chinese education purportedly organized by socialist elements only added to the fear that the new Malaysia would inherit Singapore’s problem and aggravate Malaya’s long standing political contests. Understandably, Singapore’s majority Chinese population and heavy presence of left and socialist movements put fear on Malayan leaders that the new Malaysia would be overwhelmed by Chinese chauvinism and left politics¹³ that would only complicate Malaya’s running battle over the country’s terms of reference. In assuaging public anxiety, the Tunku was adamant that weeding out communism from Singapore politics was his top priority. During the merger talks.¹⁴

Political parties from both sides of the causeway had different impressions and expectations of the merger. Singapore’s main opposition party Barisan Sosialis was not in favour of the union. The party preferred that Singapore consolidated its self-rule and not forced into a premature merger. The Barisan Sosialis also feared that Chinese would be treated as “second class citizens” and that having a Chinese-dominated state in the new Federation would result in conflict.¹⁵ Lee Kuan Yew, one of the main architects of the merger, was well aware of such concerns. He admitted to then acting UK High Commissioner, Philip Moore, that some Singapore leaders feared that Chinese schools in Singapore would become Malay schools that some Singapore residents would lose their citizenship and that Singapore’s entrepot trade would be severely compromised with new tariff barriers.¹⁶ In Malaysia, the PMIP opposed Singapore’s inclusion. Its leader Burhanuddin Helmy criticized the Alliance for selling out Islamic values and Malay privileges for a Malaysia that would see greater Chinese political presence. Malaya’s Socialist Front – which drew support mainly from non-Malays in urban areas – welcomed the merger speculating that the party could form a coalition with Singapore-based parties that could put an end to the Alliance Party’s rule.¹⁷

After rounds of horse-trading and ironing out the many concerns, the Singapore and Malaya union was finally sealed. This came after Malayan leaders agreed that the new union would include the Borneo states of Sabah (North Borneo) and Sarawak. With Sabah and Sarawak’s indigenous population that included Malays, the new federation would ensure a Malay majority. The fear of a strong communist presence was also allayed after Britain, Malaya and Singapore launched operation cold store in 1963 under the Malayan Internal Security Act. The operation in Singapore saw the arrest of about 110 leftist students, union and political leaders and a ban on pro-communist publications.¹⁸ The initial crackdown on socialist sympathisers led to subsequent riots and more arrests. Operation cold store did its job as far as Singapore, Malaysia and British leaders were concerned; the operation greatly diminished communist threats paving the way for a merger.

The leaders of both Singapore and Malaya laboured over the merger agreement. Reconciling differences were made complicated by the sharp contrast in politics, economics and social structures. At stake was the divergent terms of reference. Malayan leaders were cautious not to produce terms that could add to contestation of the country’s terms of reference. Singapore leaders were careful not to overly compensate the island’s economic, social and political dictates. In the end the merger agreement had features that, essentially, attempted to insulate both Malaya and Singapore’s political, economic and social interests. The agreement had features of “one country, two systems” model. Citizenship, for instance, was kept separate. Singapore residents would have Singapore citizenship, not Malaysian citizenship. Singapore citizens however were considered Malaysian nationals. This perplexing arrangement was meant to prevent Malaysian or Singapore citizens from contesting in each other’s election. This was an ingenious method to insulate and prevent potential attacks on each other’s terms of reference. Singapore also had control over its education, labour and trade policy. The agreement also gave Singapore control over the collection of taxes. In return, Singapore agreed to contribute 40 percent of its tax revenue to the Federation, subject to review after 31 December 1964. Singapore’s chief executive also retained the title of Prime Minister. Lee Kuan Yew was addressed as Prime Minister of Singapore in his many state visits, not as Chief Minister or Mentri Besar, as in other states in Malaysia. Technically, Malaysia had two prime ministers. In exchange for the concessions and Singapore’s higher tax contribution, the Malaysian central government would take charge of Singapore’s internal security matters, external defence and foreign affairs.¹⁹ Also, in exchange for greater autonomy over its domestic policies, Singapore agreed to have only 15 seats in the Federal parliament, not 21 seats, if it was based on population ratio.

While it may not be apparent to Malaya and Singapore leaders, the merger talks had an underlying motivation: that Malaya and Singapore’s terms of reference had to be kept separate. The balkanising of voting rights by way of separate citizenship was one such move. Keeping Malaysia and Singapore citizens from contesting in each other’s jurisdiction meant keeping out conflicting ideas of how the state should be organized. Intuitively, the drafters of the merger were hoping that Malaysia’s brand of political economy and terms of reference would be kept out from Singapore’s brand of liberal – capitalistic – socialist political economy.

While the agreement was an ingenious attempt at insulating Malaya and Singapore’s terms of reference, it left out an important consideration; the agreement did not disallow political parties from both sides of the causeway from contesting in each other’s territory. Political parties are purveyors of terms of reference and this oversight on the part of the leaders would turn out to be costly. In the coming months, such omission saw political parties contesting in each other’s jurisdiction that would see Malaya and Singapore’s brand of politics encroaching into each other’s political space.

With no rules prohibiting political parties from contesting in each other’s election, political parties from both sides of the causeway started to export their brand of politics into Malaysia and Singapore’s political scene that ended up touching on each other’s terms of reference. The Singapore’s election in September 1963 – five days after the merger – saw the UMNO, MCA and MIC contesting under a coalition, the Singapore Alliance Party. To be fair, the Singapore Alliance party was a coalition formed in 1961 – before the merger. Nonetheless, the absence of any rules restricting political parties from contesting in each other’s jurisdiction saw the Singapore election of 1963 setting the pace of what was to come.

The Singapore election saw the Prime Minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman, making his presence in one of the rallies. The Tunku’s presence – a Malaysian citizen and an UMNO member – sparked the first seed of discontent. In his memoir, Lee Kuan Yew mentioned that the Tunku’s presence in the election rallies “had brought him quickly into Singapore politics” and according to Lee, gave the impression that “the UMNO did not intend to allow Singapore to look after itself as we had agreed”.²⁰ In commenting on the Tunku’s presence in the election, Lee mentioned that he initially hoped to postpone entering into Malaysian politics for at least one election term but the Tunku’s presence in the Singapore election made it no longer possible. Lee said that “sooner rather than later we would have to enter Malayan politics to defend our interests”.²¹ The PAP then harboured intention to enter politics in Malaya in the coming 1964 election.²²

The PAP’s entry in the Malaysian election in August 1964 invited unsurprising reactions from Tunku Abdul Rahman. The Prime Minister was not happy with the PAP’s decision as he thought that the PAP would confine itself to politics in Singapore. He said that

When Singapore came into this new nation of Malaysia, we had agreed under the Constitution that she should have representation in our Parliament and fit into the pattern by having her own machinery, and her own elections. The first sign of Singapore’s attempt to have a hand in the affairs of Malaysia was in the last election when PAP contested some of the constituencies. That was quite contrary to what we agreed.²³

PAP’s decision to participate in the 1964 Malaysian election however would see the party taking on a different political persona than the ones it adopted in Singapore. While the PAP’s political language in Singapore was one of a socialist democratic party that played on issues of labour, class, neoliberal concerns and better quality of living, the PAP’s political vocabularies in the Malaysian election took on issues that played right into Malaysia’s terms of reference. While the party was careful not to infringe on the UMNO, the PAP’s attack on the MCA during the election season, inadvertently, brought it deep into Malaysia’s ethnic politics. The PAP questioned the MCA’s relevance in Malaya’s Chinese politics. It argued that the MCA had lost touch of the Chinese ground saying that traditional loyalty that the overseas Chinese communities had for Chinese businessmen – which the MCA was associated with – was fast disappearing.²⁴ The PAP described the MCA as “effete and corrupt and that the organization is chiefly responsible for Chinese votes going by default to the anti-Malaysia Socialist Front”, a party seen as a proxy for communist sympathisers.²⁵ Lee said that the reason that Chinese were deserting the MCA was because the “Chinese educated world – is a world teeming with vitality, dynamism and revolution, a world in which the communists had been working for the past thirty years with considerable success”.²⁶ At the height of the election campaigning, the PAP made clear that the Chinese leadership in the Alliance Party, a.k.a. the MCA, “was replaceable”.²⁷ Lee remarked that the MCA had “politically unintelligent and insensitive men” and warned that to save Malaysia from harm, the Tunku had to be saved from his “friends”.²⁸ Lee then mooted a new form of alliance – with the PAP in it – which would make the Alliance Party and its approach impregnable.²⁹ Lee was sure that, in the PAP, the Alliance party led by the Tunku would find a suitable replacement for the MCA, saying that half of the problems facing Malaysia were created by the Tunku’s “old friends who skilfully and cynically exploit his personalities and loyalties”.³⁰ The Tunku was not convinced. In his reply to Lee’s statement he maintained that he was determined to stick with the MCA and described any disagreement as “our own internal party troubles”.³¹ Having worked with the MCA since the late 1940s and being involved with MCA leaders in the many issues and processes leading to independence, the Tunku – acting totally in character – had to place his bets on his own long-term ally in the MCA than on an untested new friendship in the PAP. To the Tunku, Lee and the PAP’s attacks on the MCA were attempts to court Chinese voters away from the MCA.

More importantly by targeting the MCA, the PAP – in Malaysia – inadvertently became to be perceived as a Chinese party. This is not helped by the PAP’s heavy Chinese membership and Chinese supporters. Indeed, the PAP’s campaigning in the election of 1964 tore at the heart of the merger project; it put two distinct terms of reference on a collision course. In the campaign, the PAP promoted Singapore’s term of reference – the island’s brand of socialist-democratic – capitalist ideals. Lee Kuan Yew was convinced that Malaysians would buy into Singapore’s institutional sets and legacies saying that

if it can be shown that the people in the bigger towns in Malaya support Malaysia by supporting pro-Malaysia parties, better still, if it can be shown that they support an economic and social policy similar to that of Singapore, it will give us added strength in convincing the UMNO leadership that this policy should be adopted in Malaya.³²

The PAP’s manifesto unwittingly sold Singapore’s terms of reference. The manifesto spoke of the party’s long-term objective “to assist in the building of a united democratic and socialist Malaysia, based on the principles of social justice and non-communalism”.³³ One PAP official openly expressed his rejection of the Federation’s terms of reference saying that “our long range objective…is to start a social revolution in Malaysia and break down the communal walls in this country. Our short-term objective is just as clear. We want to defeat the Socialist Front and the Malayan Chinese Association (MCA)”.³⁴ Lee also considered the PAP’s involvement in the 1964 election as an important step to prepare the party for the election in 1969, an election that the party hoped to consolidate Singapore’s and the PAP’s own terms of reference. In Lee’s words, he said that “if it is possible to get the winds of change to blow gently this year so much less of an upset it will be in 1969”.³⁵ Increasingly, the PAP – in Malaysia – was not only exporting Singapore’s brand of politics but also increasingly buying to the political colours that defined Malaysia. Without him realizing it, Lee’s statement, especially with regards to the MCA and Chinese in the election campaign, played right into the hands of Malaysia’s terms of reference. What is more important is that unwittingly – through the PAP – Singapore’s political ideas began to take hold on Malaysia’s political vocabularies that would further test the country’s terms of reference.

Going into the 1964 election the PAP was confident of winning all nine seats it was contesting. Should the PAP get a clean sweep, Lee Kuan Yew said that Malaysian politics would have to be reappraised adding that “no leader can afford to ignore the need for change if the urban areas, constituting more than half the people of Malaya give their verdict for the winds of change”.³⁶ Lee also said that UMNO’s close partnership with MCA would need a rethink should the change happen justifying that

even if there were five MCA MPs left, UMNO might want to continue to have MCA in the alliance but can UMNO leadership go through the awful predicament of pretending for the next five years that these 5 MCA MPs really represent the urban Chinese?³⁷

The election results were somewhat a surprise. The Alliance Party secured a two-third majority. It obtained 58 percent of the popular vote, an improvement from the 52 percent vote it secured in the 1959 election. Despite the improvement, the party only managed to clinch 89 parliamentary seats, a significant drop from the 100 seats it won in the 1959 election. The PAP, however, did not perform as it expected. The party won only one parliamentary seat winning the urban seat of Bangsar.³⁸

Impressive as the election results were for the Alliance Party, the outcome showed a worrying trend in Malaysian politics. The bitter campaigning reified ethnically exclusive institutions. Malays voted overwhelmingly for the UMNO, possibly alarmed by a resurgent ethnic radicalization and the perception that only the Alliance party and the UMNO could protect Malay interest and hold a divided nation. Such was the fear that Malays voted down the PMIP which saw its parliamentary seats reduced to four. Likewise, non-Malays, specifically Chinese voters, turned away from the Alliance and the MCA. Even in seats where the Malays were the majority, Chinese voters preferred not to vote for the UMNO.³⁹ Non-Malay parties – the Socialist Front and the PPP – managed to hold on to their previous seats. The PAP’s winning the urban seat of Bangsar also indicated non-Malay voters’ preference. The election of 1964, far from strengthening the consociational arrangement, made the contested leviathan increasingly fragile. Singapore’s involvement in Malaysian politics not only spooked many Malaysian leaders but made the merger project increasingly unsustainable.

Undaunted by the election outcome, the PAP set up party branches in all states, underlining its intention to be in Malaysian politics for the long term. Lee Kuan Yew justified the PAP’s expansion by saying that “there was still a potentially large audience interested in the ideas and beliefs of the PAP” (People’s Action Party, Our First Ten Years; Singapore, 1964, p. 11; Straits Budget, 6 May 1964). He said that the election had put the PAP as a Malayan party and that “between now and then we shall build up our organisation and recruit able men in Malaya to help carry on the battle for a more just society” (People’s Action Party, Our First Ten Years; Singapore, 1964, p. 11; Straits Budget, 6 May 1964). Lee’s decision not only underlined its promotion of Singapore’s terms of reference but the PAP’s decision to set up more branches inadvertently saw the party getting caught in Malaysia’s own institutional sets. By default, the PAP now became active participants of the contested leviathan. In the coming months, the imposition of the PAP and Singapore’s ideals on Malaysia’s terms of reference proved problematic. In invoking a liberal and a multiracial Malaysia based on Singapore’s term, Lee Kuan Yew and the PAP’s political vocabulary increasingly challenged that of Malaysia’s. Singapore leaders were inevitably heading towards a collision course with Malaysian leaders.

The months after election saw further polarisation of the Malaysian society. Exclusive interests and institutions exacted contending demands on the country’s terms of reference that threatened disequilibrium to a contested leviathan. The campaigning in the 1964 election was bruising so much so that the political debates took to the streets with Malaysia experiencing a series of ethnic riots. The tiff between Singapore and the Federation leaders saw riots in Singapore in July 1964 where 22 people were reported dead. There was also a riot in Penang, in Bukit Mertajam in July 1964, after a procession of Malay youths attacked a Chinese policeman who allegedly pushed a Malay steward. The trouble lasted 11 days.⁴⁰ The heightened communal politics saw both Malaysia and Singapore leaders agreeing to a political truce. The PAP agreed not to “expand its present activities in the branches already established in Malaya”.⁴¹ The truce however was short-lived. It was broken weeks later when the Minister of Agriculture and Cooperatives, Khir Johari, opened five new Singapore UMNO branches on 26 October 1964 and made a remark that the Singapore Alliance Party, of which UMNO was a member, was reorganizing in its effort to contest the next Singapore election in 1967. Khir’s statement reneged on the truce agreed by both Singapore and Malaysian leaders. His statement was greeted with sharp rebuke by PAP’s Toh Chin Chye. In retaliation, Chin Chye announced that the PAP would now be “reoriented and reorganized so that we can get at Malaya”.⁴² In the coming weeks, more remarks were made by Singapore leaders that openly questioned Malaysia’s terms of reference. The PAP’s grievances were no longer directed at the MCA but increasingly at the political privileges of the Malay community. In May 1965, Lee questioned the validity of Malays’ claim to privileges. Lee said no racial group in Malaya was more native than the others and that, based on historical findings, it was “wrong and illogical for a particular racial group to think that they are more justified to be called Malaysians and that the others can become Malaysians only through their favor”.⁴³ Lee took issue with Malays’ special position saying that history suggests that Malays began to migrate to Malaysia in noticeable numbers only about 700 years⁴⁴ ago and that 39 percent of Malays in Malaysia were comparatively new immigrants, using the example of the secretary-general of UMNO, Syed Ja’afar Albar, an Arab who came to Malaya from Indonesia just before the war at an early age.⁴⁵ Lee’s statement spooked the establishment at the Federal government. His open attack on Malaysia’s terms of references was met with unsurprising rebuke from Malayan leaders. To the Malayan leaders, especially the extreme factions within the UMNO, the PAP now stood for another communal party. To them, Lee’s remark was an open admission that the PAP leadership had issues with Malay rights. The extreme elements within UMNO were especially vociferous, calling for stern action against Lee. Lee’s attack on Malay privileges and ensuing rebuttals by Malayan leaders saw a regrouping of Malay nationalism and made the Malaysia-Singapore relationship increasingly unsustainable.

It was also during this time that the PAP mooted the idea of a “Malaysian, Malaysia”, targeting, again, at the heart of Malaysia’s terms of reference. At the PAP’s tenth Anniversary Congress, the party leadership proposed the setting up of a united opposition Front to promote coalition on the principle of equality. On 9 May 1965, five opposition parties met in Singapore to form the Malaysian Solidarity Convention (MSC). The MSC comprised of the PAP, the PPP, the United Democratic Party (UDP), the Sarawak United People’s Party (SUPP) and Machinda. In responding to questions on the reasons for the formation of the MSC, Lee Kuan Yew made clear that he wanted to change the rules of the game of Malaysian politics saying that “if it is necessary to have a Malaysian Malaysia through such a group of parties making an effort to win the majority of seats in Malaysia to form the government, well so be it. It has to be done”.⁴⁶

Malaysian Malaysia connotes Lee’s long-standing promotion of egalitarianism and socialism. While good as an idea, it puts Singapore priorities on direct collision course with Malaysia’s. Regardless of the PAP’s best intentions, for Malaysian leaders, the PAP and Lee’s remarks were open contestation of Malaysia’s terms of reference. They were convinced that the PAP leadership had openly attacked “Malay, Islam, the Malay language as the official language and even the Malay sultans”.⁴⁷

Months leading to the eventual separation, Singapore leaders again raised the matter of Malaysian Malaysia, this time in the Malaysian parliament in reaction to the King’s speech at the start of a new parliamentary session. The PAP proposed an amendment to the King’s speech saying that it “regretted” that the King did not assure the people that Malaysia would progress toward a Malaysian Malaysia. The PAP’s call for amendment led to harsh debates in parliament that erased any hope of a possible reconciliation between Singapore and the Federation. The events that took place between April and July 1965 made Singapore’s position in the federation increasingly untenable that led to the announcement of the separation on 9 August 1965.

Singapore’s eventual split from the federation was an accident waiting to happen. Both countries inherited different sets of institutions that were irreconcilable from the start. Malaysia’s terms of reference and Singapore’s were never in congruent. Three months before the separation, Lee Kuan Yew admitted that Malaysia and Singapore leaders had different ideas of how to get to a Malaysian Malaysia saying that “We both want to get a Malaysian Malaysia, but we propose route ‘A’”, direct from many states together into one federation, from many groups together into a multi-racial party, towards a multiracial, united Malaysia. They say “No, let us go slowly – separate states – Singapore different from Malaya. You keep to Singapore, please don’t interfere in Malaya. We will run things for you, but we will still try to get to the point of a multi-racial Malaya” (Straits Time, 25 May 1965; Nancy Fletcher, p. 58). Lee’s statement, while poignant is perplexing. It is perplexing because Malaysia and Singapore leaders should have realized that the negotiations and measures to insulate Malaya and Singapore’s interests during the merger talks would have raised ample red flags that both Malaysia and Singapore operate on very different terms of reference. Surprisingly the need to ensure safeguards to avoid confrontation was lost on the leaders of the two states.

While the merger project exposed the complexity of the Malaysian polity, Singapore’s entry and eventual exit had a lingering effect on Malaysian politics in the coming years. Between 1965 and 1969, there was even more intense contestation of the country’s terms of reference – of Malay, Islam and Malay Monarchy – which was now made complicated by a complex mix of new ideas of pluralism, capitalism, democracy and egalitarianism brought about by Singapore’s entry in the federation. Negotiations became more difficult due to the pervasiveness and entrenchment of mutually exclusive ethnic institutions. We turn now to the period 1965–1969 that saw intensification of competing demands and contestation of Malaysia’s terms of reference.

May 1969 and the Events Leading to It

Singapore’s separation from Malaysia did not douse the communal tension of the last few years. If anything, the years between 1964 and 1969, leading up to the May 1969 election saw a ratcheting of communal issues on various fronts. These events, between the years 1964 and1969, tested further the contested Leviathan hypothesis, one that saw the Alliance government managing – often clumsily – contending forces of exclusively ethnic-based institutions that were constantly putting pressure on Malaysia’s terms of reference.

The 13 May 1969 riot did not happen overnight. What happened on that fateful day was the result of a slow but sure build-up of tension taking place in the Malaysian political economy since 1957, which constantly put pressure on the contested Leviathan. One best way to capture Malaysia’s worst race riot is to pay attention to the idea of sequence, timing, increasing returns and path dependence. By adopting process tracing and path dependence and applying the law of increasing returns, we will note that the riot of May 13 was the result of a series of events that took place many months before the 1969 election. As a metaphor, the May 13 racial disturbance was a full-blown eruption that came from a series of seismic political disturbances that happened over a period of time in Malaysian politics. The political rhetoric and contending demands seen in the 1959 election, the bitter acrimony surrounding Singapore’s inclusion and later separation from Malaysia, the bitter exchanges in the 1964 elections, and the disturbances that happened after 1965 must be accounted for if we were to get a better picture of what led to the riot in May 1969.

Adjusting to a New Malaysia without the Malaysian Malaysia Cry

Singapore’s merger and eventual separation left a huge impact on Malaysian politics. Singapore’s separation sparked both despair and relief among Malaysia’s various interests. It brought despair for those rooting for Lee Kuan Yew’s version of “Malaysian Malaysia”. And it brought relief to those who feared that Singapore’s continued inclusion would contest and undermine Malaysia’s terms of reference. While the actors might be gone, their ideas lived on. There was a carry-over of Lee Kuan Yew’s “Malaysian Malaysia” cry. “Malaysian Malaysia” coloured the many demands and resistance from various exclusive interests that continually test the country’s terms of reference. The years between 1965 and 1969 reflected this battle over the country’s terms of reference that would see more political tumult.

One glaring event that took place after the separation was the attempt to decouple Malaysia and Singapore’s brand of politics. Days after separation, both Malaysia and Singapore made efforts to delink the PAP and UMNO from each other’s jurisdiction – something that should be done during the merger. The Malaysian Registrar of Societies (ROS) asked the PAP (Malaysia) to give reasons on why it should not deregister the party after 8 September 1965 citing that the party was connected “with an organization of a political nature” outside Malaysia. In reply, the PAP leadership said that the new office bearers in PAP (Malaysia) were all Malaysians. ⁴⁸ Devan Nair, the only PAP member in the Malaysian parliament, maintained that the PAP (Malaysia) is organizationally and institutionally independent of the PAP in Singapore.⁴⁹ Nair questioned the registrar’s demand for a show-cause letter reiterating that the PAP had notified the registrar that all of the party’s office bearers were Malaysians. Nair accused the registrar of being a government functionary.⁵⁰ Nair’s appeal did not change anything. On 11 October 1965, the PAP Malaysia filed an application for the setting up of a new party, the Democratic Action Party (DAP).⁵¹

Singapore followed Malaysia’s act. The UMNO Singapore was asked by Singapore’s ROS, to produce a show-cause letter on why the “identity of names between UMNO Singapore and UMNO Malaya was purely coincidental” because the “people of Singapore might well conclude that the Singapore Government was allowing a political body to exist in Singapore, which would serve the interests of a political party outside Singapore”.⁵² The party maintained that the “UMNO Singapore was formed before Malaysia and has never been part of UMNO Malaya, but only affiliated to UMNO Malaya since Malaysia”.⁵³ The party later agreed on 6 March 1967, to amend the party’s constitution and rename the party as Pertubuhan Kebangsaan Melayu Singapura or the Singapore Malay National Organisation.⁵⁴

While the name change was an important step at decoupling Singapore and Malaysia’s politics, it did little to douse the lingering effect of the merger and eventual separation. Indeed, the merger and its failure left a bitter aftertaste. The UMNO leaders continually see the DAP as a proxy of the PAP. The DAP unrelenting sloganeering of a “Malaysian Malaysia” however did little to assuage such fear. In the run-up to Malaysia’s next general election in 1969, the Alliance Party accused the DAP of still taking orders from the PAP. The DAP denied it. But the party’s continued use of “Malaysian Malaysia” was unsettling to the Alliance’s leadership suggesting to them that the DAP had not quite severed its link with the PAP.⁵⁵

The post-1965 years saw the Alliance-led government attempting to heal political wounds and seek political reconciliation. In August 1967, to celebrate ten years of Malaysia’s independence (Merdeka), the government introduced the freedom of the press act. Also, to celebrate the ten years of Merdeka, the government released 180 political detainees on 30 August 1967, the eve of Independence Day, in what it called “Operation Bebas”. The 180 political prisoners included top left-wing leaders and five prominent Singapore trade unionists. This was gesture of political goodwill despite the concerns that the government’s release of the political prisoners would aggravate the political situation. In defending the government’s decision, the deputy Prime Minister Tun Abdul Razak justified that while he was by “no means convinced that 180 political detainees had renounced their political affiliation, their conduct and demeanor had shown inclination to change” and that to him “was an acceptable security risk”.⁵⁶

While the release of the political prisoners was positive and a show of trust and goodwill on the part of the state, it also set Malaysian politics on the unknown. Coincidence or otherwise, the months leading to the election in May 1969 were tumultuous, that saw the Malaysian government negotiating the many expectations that almost always touched on the country’s terms of reference.

The National Language Bill

The year 1967 proved to be a challenging one for Malaysian politics. Marking ten years of independence, it was the year that Malaysia had to revisit its language policy. In the pre-independence negotiations, it was agreed that English would be given equal status with Malay for only a period of ten years after which parliament had to decide on the nature of the language policy directions. The National Language Bill was introduced in parliament on 24 February 1967. Negotiating the bill was a wicked problem; how best to keep Malay as the national language while at the same time retain the right of other communities to their own language at a time when Malaysian politics had sown deep mistrust between communities? In the end, the bill was passed with Malay as the national language of the federation. But to compensate the contending demands, the bill also afforded the use of other languages for the purpose of “translation of official documents or communication” deemed necessary for the purpose of national interest.

Before the bill was debated, arguments between members of parliament revealed the extent of mutually exclusive interests on the country’s terms of reference. Non-Malay members of parliament saw the bill as only adding to Malay nationalism. They demanded that the language bill should not compromise the intellectual and cultural heritage of other languages. For non-Malay political parties, the fight was to have four official languages (Malay, Chinese, Tamil and English). The Peoples’ Progressive Party (PPP) for instance was a fierce advocate for four official languages. The PPP prided itself in championing non-Malays issues that had earned the party commendable wins in the general elections as well as state and municipal elections. Unimpressed by the bill and to show his disagreement, the PPP’s Seenivasagam spoke in English throughout his response to the bill. He said that the “duly elected Representatives of the people of West Malaysia…(were) asked to commit one of the greatest acts of treachery and betrayal on one-half almost of the population of west Malaysia”.⁵⁷ The DAP and the UDP echoed Seenivasagam’s views saying that the bill was a betrayal to non-Malay voters. Such was the intensity of the debate and the pull of exclusive interests that even the MCA had disagreements among party members. The MCA branch in Penang passed a resolution stating that “Chinese should be respected and accepted as a language for official and extensive use throughout the country.” ⁵⁸ This was followed by a country-wide effort by some MCA leaders to obtain support for more liberal use of the Chinese language without the approval of the MCA Central Committee.⁵⁹ The move sparked a crisis within the MCA. On 18 October 1966, in an extraordinary meeting to discuss the language issue, the MCA central committee decided that it was not able to support the idea to make Chinese as the official language but “pledged its support for the more liberal use of Chinese language in selected fields and in Government notices, forms and so on”.⁶⁰ The MCA’s head Tan Siew Sin spoke in Malay and then English and promised that the MCA “had pledged that it would do what it could to ensure a fair deal for the Chinese community of this country”.⁶¹

The Malay leaders had contrasting reactions. Malay leaders argued that the bill did not go far enough. They were disappointed with the continued provision of English. The often-used expression is that the bill proposed by the Alliance government was a betrayal of the trust the community had of the party. The PMIP leader Asri Muda had tough words for the Alliance Party and UMNO. He said that the bill was the latest of UMNO’s policies that undermined Malay interests, especially those living in rural areas. He said UMNO’s tolerance for other languages came at the expense of the national language that would result in the Malay language having no economic value and this was a betrayal of the party’s promise to protect Malay interest.⁶² Some UMNO members also expressed their displeasure. One branch of the UMNO in Selangor called for the resignation of the Prime Minister. The Chief Minister of Malacca called for certain members of UMNO to resign or at its worst, forced to leave the party should they refuse. The argument within UMNO was so heated that the UMNO had to sack the deputy-chairman of the party’s branch in Penang for his stance on the bill.⁶³ One of the most vocal critic of the language bill was Syed Nasir Syed Ismail who headed the Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka (language and literary agency). Syed Nasir who for many years was waiting for the time when the Malay language would replace English saw no reason why the government had to make compromises. Knowing that he had the support of Malay leaders and associations, Syed Nasir wrote a confidential memorandum to the Prime Minister and all cabinet ministers and Chief Ministers calling for Malay to be made the sole national language of Malaysia. The Language bill also saw the formation of the Barisan Bertindak Bahasa Kebangsaan (National Language Action Front) made up of members from UMNO and like-minded parliamentarians whose grievances were directed at UMNO and the Alliance government.⁶⁴ The Malay teachers’ association, the national writers’ association, the University of Malaya Student Association and the Malay Language society all expressed their displeasure at the bill. Along with the National Language Action Front, these groups organised a rally at the Dewan Bahasa and Pustaka to show their disappointment. At the rally, copies of the Utusan Melayu were burnt after the paper made compromising stance on the language issue, contrary to many expectations.⁶⁵

After much debate, the bill provided that Malay, the national language, would become the sole official language. Official documents or communications however can be translated to the language of any for the purpose of public interest. Also, the King, the Yang di-Pertuan Agong, may allow the continued use of the English language for official purposes as he deemed fit. The wordings of the National Language Act were a clear compromise; an attempt to strike an agreement by neutralising non-Malays’ and Malays’ expectations. In defending the government’s decision, the Tunku stressed that the essence of the bill was to appease every group and maintain inter-communal peace. He assured the Malays that the use of the Malay language will be expanded and the use of English reduced. To the non-Malays, the Tunku said the bill would not in any way put other languages at risk of obsolescence and that the bill was necessary to guarantee peace.⁶⁶ The Tunku adamantly defended his government’s decision saying that his team was prepared to face the risk of being voted out.

The 1967 Language Act demonstrates the dilemma of a state trying to maintain equilibrium of a contested Leviathan. It required delicate manoeuvring on the part of the government. While on one hand it tried to make the Malay language primus inter pares, on the other, it struggled to keep the relevance of the other languages. It was a deft act on the part of the Tunku. Trying to please two opposing demands was difficult. The Tunku knew too well that the promises were seemingly difficult and the delivery of the policy a tall order to keep. The language act is just one of the many attempts by the state to appease exclusive interests while at the same time keep to the country’s terms of reference.

The debates and acrimony surrounding the tabling of the 1967 Language Act must not to be seen in isolation. Rather they must be seen as products of the many issues that have consumed the Malaysian public in the first ten years of independence. What stood out between the period 1957 and 1967 and the years ahead was the hardening of Malaysia’s mutually exclusive ethnic institutions. Trust between different communities was evidently in huge deficit. The coming months would reveal more pent-up contestation over Malaysia’s terms of reference.

The 1967 Hartal and Riot

In November 1967, the Malaysian government decided to devalue the Malaysian currency. The decision came after Britain decided to devalue the pound. Two types of currency were in circulation at the time – the old currency based on the sterling that was legal tender in Malaysia, Singapore and Brunei, and a new currency based on the gold standard and issued by the Malaysian government that was at par with the old currency. In an unpremeditated attempt to encourage the use of the new currency, the government announced that the old currency – while still legal tender – would be valued at 15 percent discount to the new currency. Though no deadline was announced on the phasing out of the old currency, the announcement caused much anxiety especially among older generations and rural folks. They were worried that they might not have enough time to change the old currencies for the new. It was estimated that the public who held on to the old currency lost some $42 million (US$14 million).⁶⁷

In retrospect, the unease speaks of a larger issue. The anxiety was not just about doing away with the Sterling for the Ringgit. It was about breaking away from the past (doing away with the Sterling) and embarking on a new (the use of the Ringgit) that kept many uncomfortable. Despite the government allaying fears that no date had been decided to terminate the old currency and that the old currency would retain its value, political parties, particularly the Labour Party, took up the issue. The Labour Party chose Penang, as a site to hold a hartal. Penang was chosen for good reasons. The party got its support mainly in Penang.⁶⁸ Penang was also ripe for the protest as its economy was struggling and the timing of the devaluation could not have come at the worst time. Unemployment was high and rising. Penang’s entrepot status – one that rivalled Singapore – was also hard hit after the government introduced a 2-percent surtax on Indonesian goods that were re-exported from Penang. Penang’s municipality was also riddled with charges of corruption that created public unease.⁶⁹

The hartal was launched on 24 November 1967 in Penang led by the Labour Party. Lim Kean Siew, chairman of the Labour Party in Penang, decided that the hartal would follow Gandhi’s civil disobedience protest. In its demands, the Labour Party asked that the government gives time for the lower-income groups to change their currencies from the old to the new. The government reciprocated. It announced that the lower denomination in the old currency would retain its old value. For the political parties, this did not go far enough. Hartal ensued. Shops were told to stop their business and close their shutters in a sign of protest.

While the conditions during the initial hours of the hartal were calm, things began to get out of control. Small skirmishes started to take place not just in Penang but in the other states. Blames were put on the Labour Party for exacting more demands that saw secret societies taking the opportunity to incite violence. The hartal took a turn for the worst when protests took on ethnic undertones. The Eastern Sun daily described the hartal as fanning “the dying embers of communalism in the country into a white-hot all-consuming flame which touched off racial clashes in other parts of the country including Kuala Lumpur”. ⁷⁰ In the main capital of Penang, Georgetown, there was chaos on the main trunk roads from Chulia Street, Penang Road, Prangin Road and Beach Street. There were looting cases taking advantage of the disturbance. Windows of a department store – the Cold Storage – were smashed by youths chanting anti-devaluation slogans. On the first day of the hartal, 24 November 1967, 5 people were killed and 92 injured.⁷¹

At the height of the chaos, the left-wing arm of the Labour Party threatened to produce a similar hartal in Kuala Lumpur. To calm the situation, the government urged the public to stay indoors and not participate in any form of civil disobedience. While violence was kept at bay with the deployment of the police force in the capital, there were still sporadic skirmishes in Kuala Lumpur that had ethnic undertones. There was the story of thugs who went into an argument with the roadside seller in the Dato Kramat area, a Malay-dominated settlement in Kuala Lumpur, before killing a guard at the Standard Chartered Bank. Malays retaliated and the whole episode became a Sino-Malay conflict. There were cases of revenge gang clashes in Penang when a group of Chinese youth blocked Malay passersby in retaliation to similar acts by Malay groups to Chinese passersby. Malay gangs also retaliated to what happened in Penang by committing arson attacks and burning down Chinese properties. The PMIP and UMNO youths were also accused of egging the crowd⁷² (Hawkins and Drummond, 1969, p. 396). The government launched operation X to prevent escalating disturbances. Curfews were imposed in parts of Penang. But when the curfew was lifted in Penang, riots started north of the country, in four districts in Kedah prompting curfew in that state. To prevent things from getting out of hand, the government arrested key opposition leaders. The Labour Party leader Lim Kean Siew was arrested along with 23 other party leaders. Those arrested also included political leaders from the PMIP and the Alliance Party. The government also shut down the Labour Party headquarters and closed down the party’s eight other branches in Penang.⁷³

At the end of the hartal, the incident saw about 29 people killed, more than 200 people injured and some 1,300 people arrested. The Prime Minister expressed his shock over the “outbreaks of violence in Penang over such a small thing” as the devaluation of the old dollar. In attempting to calm the situation and not put the blame on any particular ethnic group, the Prime Minister put the blame on the organisers of the hartal saying that the organiser failed to rein in gangs, thugs and extremists who took advantage of the situation and perpetuated the racial riot.⁷⁴

The timing and sequence of the hartal and the riot signalled growing civil grievances. Coming as it did months after the acrimony over the language act in February of 1967, the civil disobedience, devaluations and ensuing ethnic clashes were symptoms of a deeper problem that revolved around the contestation of the country’s terms of reference. The devaluation and the decision to part with the old currency were a break from the past that many were not comfortable with. This anxiety was taken advantage by political parties playing on exclusive ethnic interests. For PPP leader, Seenivasagam, the public’s trepidation and the ensuing riot were a result of public grievances over a series of acts by the government that discriminated large sections of the Malaysian population. He mentioned acts that favoured Malays over non-Malays claiming that the civil service practised an eight-to-one ratio in favour of Malays when hiring civil servants. He latched on to the idea of Malay privileges stating that there was discrimination in the grading of an examination certificate that favoured Malays saying that “God has now made the non-bumiputras so stupid and dull that they cannot pass the LCE examination”.⁷⁵ Seenivasigam also questioned the police over delays in quelling the disturbances following the hartal. He claimed that the police was selective in their arrest of people in Penang and Kedah riot where non-Malays were mostly detained while members of the “holy Army” a Malay-muslim group were given a pardon.⁷⁶

After the hartal and racial disturbances, the Alliance Party took steps, with much struggle, to mend race relations and recalibrate the equilibrium of a contested Leviathan. The finance minister, Tan Siew Sin, proposed establishing an all-ethnic group club to improve race relations. There were also calls for the government to conduct a royal inquiry to investigate the civil disobedience. The Alliance Party also proposed making changes to the party constitution to allow direct membership to the Alliance Party without having to be a member of any the Alliance’s component parties. ⁷⁷

Regrettably, the riot that took place in November 1967 did not serve enough warnings to the Alliance government of the racial situation in the country. Between the end of 1967 and May 1969 election, there were incessant and continuous demands made on Malaysia’s terms of reference. About four months after the hartal and civil disturbances and months before the government announced the 1969 election Malaysia witnessed another incident that only raised racial sentiment and grievances. We turn to this next.

The Release of Prisoners and Another Riot

A few months after the hartal, another issue surfaced that tested national security. In the early months of 1968, there were news that six men – all aged below 21 years old and all Chinese – had their final appeal to avert the death sentence turned down. The six men – all members of the socialist front – were sentenced to death in 1965 by the Johore State High Court for treason, after they were accused of aiding in Indonesia’s confrontation with Malaya between 1963 and 1966. The six had undergone military training in Indonesia after which they were air-dropped near Labis, in the state of Johore and subsequently arrested by the Malaysian security forces. Besides the six men, there were five other men (also all Chinese and members of the socialist front) who faced execution in Johore for similar acts of treason after they were found to be in possession of ammunition and arms during the Indonesian confrontation.⁷⁸ All 11 men were supposed to be executed in the middle of August 1968. There were two other men, both Malays, who were also found guilty of similar acts of treason and sentenced to death by the Perak State. Both were facing execution about the same time. The case of two Malay men did not surface until much later, eclipsed by news and discussions of the 11 Chinese men. This was unfortunate, because the manner in which political leaders promoted the case of the 11 men (all Chinese) turned this issue into a deeply communal one.

The sentencing of the six young men went quickly from a security issue to one that took on ethnic dimension. Political leaders – all non-Malay political leaders – attempted in concert to change the death sentences of the 11 men to life sentences on grounds that the men committed the treasonous acts when there were below 21 years old. The issue was first taken up by the leader of the Gerakan Malaysia (Gerakan), Dr Tan Chee Koon. Tan made an initial appeal to the Prime Minister urging the Tunku – who was then away – for a stay of execution for the six men pending an appeal for clemency. But rather than wait for the Prime Minister’s reply, Tan went to the press with his appeal to the Prime Minister. The appeal became public consumption. It drew the attention of other political leaders. In his reply, the Prime Minister expressed disappointment at Tan’s action to take his appeal to the public. The Prime Minister replied that there was nothing that the central government could do because the sentencing was within the jurisdiction of the state of Johore where the acts were committed. Also the acts involved a national security issue. The government also mentioned that an appeal for clemency would be difficult because even when the men were below 21 years old at the time of the act, the six men were aware that they were recruited by members of the Socialist Front and volunteered to be trained in parachute jumping and armed training in Sumatra, Indonesia, to prepare them for their mission in Labis, Johore.

The next coming days saw more opposition leaders making pleas for clemency for the six men. Undaunted by the Tunku’s reply, Dr. Tan Chee Koon wrote to the Sultan of Johor asking the Sultan to “please stop the execution of the condemned men and exercise your royal prerogative of mercy”.⁷⁹ The PPP President, Dr Seenivasagam and the party’s secretary-general, Chan Yoon Onn, also wrote to the pardon boards of Johore asking for clemency.⁸⁰ The Socialist Front, the party at the centre of attention, also attempted for clemency, appealing to the Sultan of Johore, the Regent of Perak and the Pardons Board. The DAP also wrote to the Sultan of Johor asking that all cases be reviewed.⁸¹ The DAP’s secretary-general, Goh Hock Guan, made an appeal to the government to review the case of the six and all other “confrontation” cases on humanitarian and security grounds.⁸² Knowing that besides the six men, five other men were also facing death sentence, Dr. Tan Chee Koon made a fresh appeal to the Prime Minister for the men to be commuted to life sentence.⁸³ The local branch of the MCA in Johor also called for clemency for the 11 men. Keeping up the pressure and knowing that there was nothing that the Federal government could do to overturn the decision of the Johor state’s high court, the PPP leader Veerappen, in a last-ditch attempt, also urged the Prime Minister to persuade the Yang di-Pertuan Agong to stay the execution, not realising that such act, if executed, could set the Yang di-Pertuan Agong on collision course with the Sultans of Johor and Perak.⁸⁴ On 2 August 1968, the Sultan of Johore turned down the plea for clemency for the six men.⁸⁵ The next day, the Sultan of Perak also turned down the plea for clemency for the two men from the death sentence, both were Malays.⁸⁶

Undaunted by the announcement of the Sultan of Johore and Perak, the opposition leaders began to turn to government leaders, suggesting that they could do more to intervene. Gerakan’s Dr Tan Chee Koon criticised the Johore Chief Minister for prejudging the decision of the pardons board ahead of the pardon’s board meeting of which he was a member. ⁸⁷ The PPP, the DAP and the Gerakan then proposed that the government introduced a bill in parliament to substitute all death sentences in connection with the confrontation to life imprisonment.

While non-Malay political leaders piled on the pressure to give clemency to the 11 men, Malay leaders did not take too well to the pressures that were put on to the government and the Malay royal houses. The UMNO leaders asked that the court ruling be honoured as the men had created treason and had caused the loss of lives. Johor UMNO division chief mentioned that the issue was of national security and that the men had committed treason by being scouts for the Indonesian army and that their actions had cost death to Malaysian armed forces. They feared that by pardoning the men, more security issues would prevail.⁸⁸ UMNO leaders condemned the action by the likes of Dr. Tan Chee Koon claiming that it was a publicity stunt on the part of the party now that the next election was nearing. In his reply to Dr. Tan Chee Koon’s criticism that he was prejudging the pardons board decision, Johore Mentri Besar criticised Chee Koon for overlooking a serious security issue and for being insensitive to the fate of wives and children of Malaysian soldiers who gave their life to ensure peace.⁸⁹ His remarks did not go down well with Tan Chee Koon, who criticised the minister of prejudging the matter before fresh petitions were considered.⁹⁰

The pressure from political parties was intense, as both sides of the political divide were now accusing the government of not doing enough. Under pressure from public perception that it was not serious in handling the case, the deputy Prime Minister Tun Abdul Razak wrote to the Attorney General asking him to reexamine the case of the six men while maintaining that the ultimate decision lay with the Johor Sultan and the Pardon Board presided by the Sultan. In his defence, the Attorney General mentioned that he could only give his points of opinion to the Johore State Pardon Board because the power to review the case or pardon the men rest with the state and the Sultan of Johor.⁹¹

Towards the final hours before the execution, the pleas and public pressure became more intense. There were signs of public disorder that bordered on the communal. In Kuala Lumpur, hundred people protested in front of a theatre where 13 youths were arrested. In Penang, the authority arrested two Labour Party officials for collecting signatures for clemency.⁹² The police also raided the Labour Party headquarters where three party officials were arrested. The DAP organised a signature campaign to get public support for the executions to be delayed. The DAP launched its nationwide signature campaign and collected 50,000 signatures.⁹³ The party also proposed “mercy march” on 7 August 1968⁹⁴ but called it off at the eleventh hour after its request for the march was turned down by the police. Keeping up the pressure, the DAP sent appeals to the Human Rights Committee of the United Nations and even the socialist International urging them to convince the government to redress the sentence.⁹⁵ The Gerakan led by Dr Tan Chee Koon also held a rally on the esplanade in Penang to get public support for the 11 men.⁹⁶ The party’s secretary-general also asked support from the Afro-Asian People’s Solidarity Organisation. There was even a message from the pope asking the government for mercy.⁹⁷

There were last minute efforts by all parties following indications that the moment of reckoning for the 11 men was near after the Johore prison authority sent letters to parents of the men asking them to sign the necessary documents by August 15, 1968. In a last-ditch attempt, the Tunku made another appeal to the Sultan of Johore, citing rising communal violence that risked the possibility of insurgency. On August 16, the Johore Pardons Board postponed the execution and a week later the Sultan and the Regent of Perak commuted the 11 men to life imprisonment. On 3 September, the two Malay men in Perak, who were also on death sentence for the same offence, had their sentences commuted to life sentence. The immediate reactions were one of relief and appreciation of the Tunku’s last minute plea.

While praised by some, the Tunku’s success in releasing the men from the death sentence did not go down well with his own party members. There are those in the Alliance and UMNO who disagreed with the Tunku’s decision to make the final plea. The MCA was left dismayed by the Tunku’s decision. They felt that the Tunku’s unilateral appeal to the Sultan put the MCA in a bad light as the party was now perceived as not doing enough for the Chinese. This was especially when the parents of the 11 men appealed to Finance Minister Tan Siew Sin for a last minute intervention which the MCA chief turned down saying that there was nothing that the central government could do to change the judgement.⁹⁸ UMNO members were also not satisfied with the Tunku’s decision, discrediting the Tunku for being outtalked and outmanoeuvred by non-Malays over a serious security issue. They argued that this was another case of the UMNO leadership failing to protect Malay interests and that the issue made real champions of opposition parties – the Gerakan, the PPP and the DAP ⁹⁹ – never mind the fact that the Tunku was trying to bring a peaceful end to what could potentially be a race conflict.

The episode involving the 11 men tore the Malaysian society further. The fervent and persistent pleas by non-Malay political leaders left an indelible mark on future race relations. The episode demonstrate the extent to which actors would go to exact their demands on Malaysia’s terms of reference. More significantly though, the episode came a few months before Malaysia’s next election, in May 1969. How much of a carry over effect would this issue be in the election? Would the Tunku’s last-minute appeal be enough to win back non-Malay support? Or would the Tunku’s action alienate Malay support? Or worst, would this episode tear Malaysian society further in the coming election? These political calculations would show in the coming months as the country braced for another battle, the May 1969 general elections.

The 1969 Elections

Seven months after the case involving the 11 men, the Malaysian government dissolved parliament on 20 March 1969. The Prime Minister announced that polling day would be on 10 May 1969 which would allow political parties to campaign for more than 50 days, which, in hindsight, was a very long campaigning period. In announcing the election, Tunku Abdul Rahman advised all parties to keep to the election code and refrain from making personal attacks or inciting ethnic hatred during campaigning.

To put into perspective, much has changed and happened in Malaysian politics since 1964, the last election. Voters had a lot to chew on come polling day on 10 May 1969. The bitter separation of Singapore, the occasional riots, the devaluation issue, the hartal and the ensuing disturbances, the rancorous debates over the National language act, the issue of 11-men on death row were still fresh in the minds of many Malaysians. All of the issues tested, in varying ways, the country’s terms of reference.

Despite more than ten years of independence, Malaysia’s fundamental challenges remained. While new political parties were formed and new alliances forged, a constant feature of Malaysia’s political economy is that political parties remained largely aligned with ethnic interest. In the election, parties knew that their survival rest on support from specific ethnic groups. There was the PMIP which, over the years, had consolidated its support in predominantly Malay States of Kedah and Perlis as well as the east coast states of Kelantan and Terengganu. In the run-up to the election, the PMIP positioned itself as a serious alternative to the UMNO. The party’s election campaign touched on ensuring Malay privileges. Its main message was that the UMNO had failed to rein in non-Malay demands demonstrated by the party’s handling of the 11 men on death row, the hartal and the language and education policies. The PMIP’s strong stance against the Alliance party was bearing results. The party saw increase in membership and expansion of its branches especially in the northern states and the east coast states. The party’s courting of Malay teachers and Islamic preachers also soared its popularity in majority Malay States.

The election also saw a serious contender in the form of the PPP. The party made significant grounds among non-Malays especially in the state of Perak after it became a forceful voice during the Malay language policy, the appeal for the 11 men on death row and the hartal. The election also saw a new party based in Penang, the Gerakan Rakyat Malaysia (Gerakan). The party was led by Lim Chong Eu and some of its members included former members of the Labour Party in the likes Dr. Tan Chee Koon, who was instrumental in organising the hartal and in demanding the release of the 11 men on death row. The Gerakan party got its support mainly from the non-Malays community in Penang. In the election the party turned out to be a serious contender of the MCA. There was also the DAP which was contesting the election for the first time after trading its old name, the PAP (Malaysia). As in the 1964 elections , the DAP saw itself as an alternative to the MCA with the main message that the MCA had not done enough for the Chinese community especially when it came to Chinese education and language. The Gerakan and DAP were similar in many ways. Both were democratic left parties that concentrated their support in urban areas and in states like Penang and Selangor, which had large presence of ethnic Chinese community. There was also a new Chinese party, the United Malayan Chinese Organisation (UMCO), whose support came from localised Chinese communities from the state of Negeri Sembilan. There was also the Malay left party, the Parti Rakyat, a party that chose to concentrate in rural areas, promoting the idea of agricultural reform and targeting Malay fishermen and farmers. The tension on the Malay Peninsula also spilled over to the Borneo states of Sarawak when two parties aligned with the Alliance Party – Party Pesaka and Party Bumiputera – decided to contest in similar constituencies. The big surprise was the no contest of the Labour Party, the party that was at the centre of the organisation of the devaluation issue, the hartal and the sentencing of the 11 men on death row. The Labour Party decided to boycott the polls in protest against the arrest of nine of its members who were accused of working with the MCP. While the party denied that it was working with the MCP, one of the arrested Labour Party members, Sim Kok Chye, confessed that the Labour Party, in its conference in November 1968, called on members to commit to “mass struggle as expounded by Mao Tse-Tung”.¹⁰⁰ Sim also mentioned that the Labour Party planned to sabatoge the election by “demonstrating, hoisting banners, writing slogans on pavements, house-to-house persuasion, dissuading people from voting and sabotaging polling stations”.¹⁰¹ It would turn out that the Labour Party’s non-participation did not stop the party from lending its voice to the election campaign. On the eve of polling day, on 9 May 1969, the labour party organised a procession through the streets of Kuala Lumpur to commemorate the death of one of its members that would raise ethnic sentiment several notches.

The election was also marked by strategic alliances among opposition parties. In a loose pact, the PPP, the DAP and Gerakan avoided three-cornered fights to prevent vote-splits. Despite banking on similar voting constituents, the DAP and Gerakan agreed not to contest in the same seats, learning perhaps from the by-election in Serdang in 1968, where the Alliance party won in a three-cornered that also involved the DAP and Gerakan. In the 1969 election, both the DAP and Gerakan agreed that Gerakan would contest in Penang, while the DAP would contest in urban areas in Selangor with some seats going to the Gerakan. The PPP also agreed to avoid three-cornered fights in the state of Perak, the party’s stronghold, deciding to split its seat with the DAP. The DAP also contested in the state of Johore, Negeri Sembilan and Malacca. What is perplexing is that while it avoided three-cornered fights with the Gerakan and the PPP, the DAP managed to convince the PMIP to enter into three-cornered fights in marginal – Malay majority seats in Perak and Penang. It turned out to be a strategic move; the PMIP took away some of the Malay votes from the Alliance party that worked in favour of the third party, the DAP.¹⁰²

The hustings started well but became heavy with ethnic overtures and violence as polling day neared. The parties were consistent in their rhetoric; every party exacted different demands from Malaysia’s terms of references and these were reflected in the parties’ political sloganeering and manifesto. The DAP slogan was “Towards a Malaysian Malaysia”. The PMIP’s election had the “Establishment of the Islamic State” as its election rallying cry. The Gerakan slogan was “Equality, Justice and Equal Opportunities for All”, while the PPP came up with a slogan similar to the DAP’s “Malaysia for Malaysians”.

The campaigns were heated. Promises and demands were made that inevitably touched on Malaysia’s terms of reference. The DAP, Gerakan and PPP promised a multiracial Malaysia. The DAP was committed to its “Malaysian Malaysia”. Extending its debate on the Malay language policy, the DAP promised that the party would recommend having four official languages instead of just Malay. The DAP also demanded the resumption of Chinese and Tamil secondary schools and promised the setting up of a “Merdeka University”, a university where the medium of instructions would not be Malay. Just like the 1964 election, when the PAP trained its eyes on the MCA, the DAP criticized the MCA of not doing enough for the Chinese community. In return, the MCA took on the offensive, reminding Chinese voters that should the Alliance won together with other opposition parties like the Gerakan, PPP and DAP instead of the MCA, the Chinese would be left without representation. Tan Siew Sin, the MCA chief, mentioned that

if the opposition manages to wrest key seats from the MCA, it will mean that the country will be ruled by an Alliance Government without Chinese participation. It would mean in effect a confrontation between a Government without Chinese participation and a practically all-Chinese opposition.¹⁰³

Gerakan was the more muted of the opposition parties. The party had a multiracial leadership and wanted to be seen as a Malaysian party. This saw its leaders towing the middle ground and treading carefully on issues of non-Malay education. While the DAP, Gerakan and PPP trained their campaigns on the MCA, the PMIP trained its eye on the UMNO, telling its supporters that the Tunku and the UMNO’s weak leadership had seen the Malays being outmanoeuvred and outgunned on so many issues in the past years. The PMIP promised to entrench Malay privileges and more, importantly, pushed for an Islamic state. The socialist–left, Parti Rakyat which was contesting in several rural Malay seats, called for a republican Malaysia, doing away with Monarchy. Many however touted that the Parti Rakyat had a slim chance of winning and that its presence in the election was merely to take away some votes from the UMNO and the PMIP.

For the UMNO drawing away support from the PMIP and the DAP was the party’s top agenda. In the heat of the electoral debate, the Tunku took aim at the three-cornered fight involving the DAP, PMIP and the UMNO. The Tunku added that he had evidence that “the PMIP has received financial assistance from Singaporeans here and I have taken action to send these people back to Singapore”.¹⁰⁴ This, he said, gave credence behind the three-cornered fight involving the DAP, PMIP and the UMNO in Perak and Penang. The MCA’s chief, Tan Siew Sin came to the Tunku’s defence saying that the government had evidence that the Singapore government was trying to interfere in the internal affairs of Malaysia. Tan Siew Sin’s statement saw the Singapore government sending a protest note to the Malaysian government. In his note to the Malaysian High Commissioner, Singapore’s foreign minister S. Rajaratnam wrote that Singapore “regretted” that its silence over the allegations had encouraged Alliance leaders to “make even more unwarranted embellishments to their accusations”.¹⁰⁵ A recently released declassified document from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) however provides insights that the Alliance government had “hard intelligence pointing to substantial funding of DAP and PMIP parties by Bank of China in Singapore for election purposes” (FCO 24/484).¹⁰⁶ The intelligence report suggests that the funding operation ran into millions of Malaysian dollars and that “cases are coming to light on voters in rural areas being bribed at the rate of fifty dollars for each vote”.¹⁰⁷ While the intelligence report mentioned funding from a bank in Singapore, it did not implicate any Singapore government’s involvement. As part of its strategy the Alliance’s also employed strong arm tactics to persuade voters to vote for the Alliance. This it did by threatening voters that opposition wards would be deprived of federal government funding. This threat became fodder for opposition parties. The Gerakan took swipes at the Alliance’s overzealous effort to reclaim the state of Kelantan from the PMIP after news that the Alliance promised voters that the party would allocate RM10 million to build religious institutions should the Alliance take control of Kelantan.¹⁰⁸

The arguments and counter-arguments by political parties in the election were relentless. The Alliance’s verbal attacks on the PMIP and the DAP, the rebuttals by the PPP, DAP and Gerakan’s over the Alliance’s treatment of non-Malay issues and the PMIP’s remarks on the UMNO, encapsulated the contestation so typical of Malaysian politics. So much vitriolic and promises were made at the hustings that the deputy Prime Minister, Tun Abdul Razak warned the public against possible unrealistic political demands and promises that would be at Malaysia’s peril. Razak rejected a one-race government saying that “the Alliance totally rejects the PMIP Concept of an all-Malay government just as we reject the DAP concept of a non-Malay government”.¹⁰⁹

Days before polling day, political temperatures went up several notches. On 24 April 1969 – about two weeks before polling day – a Malay man Kassim Omar, an Alliance Party publicity officer, was attacked and killed by a mob of Chinese men purportedly from the Labour Party after he tried to stop a man from painting “Don’t vote” on a road in Penang.¹¹⁰ Kassim’s head was smeared with red paint by the mob. The incident was met with reprisals from Malays especially UMNO supporters in the Jelutong area where the incident happened. To prevent racial tension from escalating, curfew orders were air-dropped and curfew was imposed on 26 April 1969 in the area of Jelutong. Ninety-eight people were arrested for breaking the curfew.¹¹¹ To calm frayed nerves, UMNO decided to have a quiet funeral for the dead UMNO man. The party also cancelled all rallies in Penang to de-escalate tension.¹¹²

In its report, the police claimed that the act was perpetrated by the Labour Party. It reported that the incident came after a labour party meeting attended by about 100 Labour Party members. Soon after the meeting a group of men broke away and painted the “Don’t Vote” sign on a sidewalk. In justifying the report, the police said they managed to recover anti-election pamphlets, photographs of Mao Tse-Tung and Lenin and a sketch showing how to destroy ballot boxes, indicating the Labour Party’s intention to sabotage the election.¹¹³ This latest act of violence only added to the dangerous trajectory of racial violence that the country had witnessed in the last few years.

As polling day neared, political parties – from all sides of the political divide – intensified their campaigns without regards to the country’s constitutional parameters. There was no stopping racial incitement. Politics of identity reared its ugliest head with rally speeches touching on highly sensitive ethnic issues, without exception. The PMIP told the crowd that Chinese should either convert to Islam or be sent to China to solve Malaysia’s Chinese problem. One DAP candidate told the crowd that if his party wins, Malays would be made to learn Chinese in two months.¹¹⁴ Mahathir Mohamad, one of the most vocal voices in the UMNO, told his Chinese constituents not to vote for him because he would not be able to represent them. Even the MCA entered the argument. The party said that there were extremist elements within UMNO, telling voters that only by having more MCA members in parliament can the party counter the demands of extremism within the UMNO.¹¹⁵ UMNO’s Tun Abdul Razak tried to break away from the populist stance and tow the middle ground, telling the crowd in Kelantan – where more than 90 percent of the voters were Malays – that the PMIP’s idea of forming a Malay government like the Melayu Raya and Nusantara were concepts of deposed Indonesia President Soekarno and a “grand illusion”.¹¹⁶ He said one-race government would destroy the state.¹¹⁷

The election fever hit a crescendo, days before polling day. On 4 May 1969, six days before polling day, a group of Chinese youths, all members of the Labour Party, were rounded up by police after they were found painting anti-election slogan on a sidewalk in Kuala Lumpur. In retaliation, the group attacked the police with iron pipes, iron spikes and sticks. The police retreated taking refuge in a market but was pursued by the youths. In defence, the police fired shots that wounded one of the youths, Lim Sun Seng, who later died from gunshot wound.¹¹⁸ The Labour Party blamed the police for the killing. Unlike the killing of the UMNO man that saw a quiet funeral, the Labour Party planned for an elaborate funeral for Lim Sun Seng. The family of the boy – with the urging of political leaders – asked the police to allow the body to be carried in a funeral procession on the streets of Kuala Lumpur on 9 May 1969 – one day before polling day. The request was initially declined but the police relented after the organizer agreed that the procession would take on a designated route. On the day of the procession, an estimated 3,000 people marched behind Lim Sun Seng’s casket. The procession also ignored the route approved by the police and went to other parts of town. Some members of the procession went overboard shouting “the thoughts of Mao and waving communist banners and posters”.¹¹⁹ Most of the slogans were written in Chinese with some in Tamil.¹²⁰ The procession also provoked the crowds who were watching, with some members of the procession taunting Malay passersby. Some protesters deviated from the agreed route and headed towards the MARA building, the UMNO headquarters, shouting insults at Malays. There were shouts of “Malai si” (Death to the Malays) and “Hutang darah dibayar darah” (Blood debts will be repaid with blood).¹²¹

The potent mix of intense ethnic emotions could not have come at a worst time. Coming as it did just one day before polling day, the procession scored many sympathy votes as well as incurred the wrath of many others, depending on which side of the political divide voters belonged. Some summed up the emotions of the different ethnic groups succinctly, saying that the crowd

must have been impressed by Chinese power…now they turned out in mass, regulated traffic and apparently controlled Kuala Lumpur…for the moment at least the ideal of Malaysian Malaysia merged into the vision of Chinese control… Few Malays witnessed the procession…in urban enclaves and kampongs they heard about the “Chinese defiance” and the “Chinese arrogance.” The Malays frustration was fueled by PMIP’s campaigns when PMIP candidates spoke of the erosion of Malay political power.¹²²

The latest procession and the scale of ethnic hate that came out of it was a prelude of things to come. The death of Lim Sun Seng’s mirrored growing Chinese and non-Malays disenchantment over the terms of references while inviting Malays discontent and latent frustration. The contested Leviathan equilibrium, so painfully calibrated and maintained in the last ten years or so, would quickly unravel in the coming days. Malaysia’s most serious of ethnic clashes since independence was waiting to happen.

Polling Day

Only 94 out of 104 electoral wards were open for polling on 10 May 1969. The Alliance won uncontested in nine constituencies with one constituency postponed because of the death of one of the candidates. In the election, the Alliance won 66 seats, 23 seats less than what the party won in the 1964 election. The opposition parties scored big gains, winning 37 seats from the meagre 15 seats they won in the 1964 election. More significant was that the Alliance secured less than 50 percent of the popular vote, taking 1,016,989 votes compared to the opposition parties who obtained 1,076,694 of votes tallied.

There was cause for celebration for opposition leaders as most won with big majorities. The Alliance saw heavy casualties. Senior members of the Alliance either lost their seat or saw a dip in the number of votes won. The biggest casualty was the Chief Minister of Penang, Wong Pow Nee who lost to a Gerakan candidate. Another prominent UMNO leader, Mahathir Mohamad lost to PMIP candidate.¹²³ The Alliance could have lost more seats had there been a contest of the ten seats (9 uncontested and 1 postponed). At the state level, the opposition won big, taking control of several key states. The Gerakan took a clean sweep of the seats it contested in Penang. With Gerakan winning 16 votes, the DAP winning 3 seats and Partai Rakyat winning 1 seat, Penang, for the first time, came under the opposition. In another key state, Selangor, the state assembly saw a hung legislature after both the Alliance and the opposition parties were deadlocked with 14 seats each out of the 28 seats. The results in Selangor saw stark ethnic divide. All 14 seats were won by non-Malay opposition candidates, with the Alliance winning the other 14 mainly Malay majority seats.¹²⁴ The three-cornered fights proposed by the DAP worked. In the seat of Ampang in Selangor, where Malays held marginal majority, the contest for Malay votes between the PMIP and UMNO saw the DAP candidate winning the seat.¹²⁵ In Perak, the PPP together with the DAP and Gerakan tipped the Alliance Party winning 20 of the 40 seats and were in the position to form a coalition government. As expected the PMIP secured the state of Kelantan. The party also came close to taking the east coast state of Trengganu and the northern state of Kedah. In both states, the Alliance managed to secure a thin majority of two and four seats, respectively.¹²⁶

Malaysia’s power sharing arrangement was put to serious test in this latest election. Not only did Malays and non-Malays reject the Alliance policies, the results showed a sharply divided nation. With the PMIP winning the Malay votes and non-Malay voters giving overwhelming support for non-Malay parties, Malaysia’s political equilibrium came under severe stress. Two days after polling day, the MCA which suffered the biggest loss, announced that it would take no part in the formation of the new Alliance government. While a close reading of path dependence and increasing returns point to imminent things to come, the scale in which ethnic strife unravelled in the coming days took everyone by surprise.

Malaysia’s Worst Riot

On the night of the election, the Selangor Club – where opposition parties were camping to follow the election results – was a scene of jubilation. As results trickled in, the initial congratulations turned into a raucous joy after it became evident that the opposition had scored big wins especially in Penang, Perak, Selangor and Kelantan. The ebullient crowd, mostly non-Malays, mentioned of a “new political arrangement, the repeal of the Bumiputera privileges, amendments to the National Language Act, in fact a new constitutional contract”.¹²⁷The reactions from Malays were a huge contrast. The PMIP success seemed hollow as the Malays “were sullen and their depressed fury hardly containable”.¹²⁸ The Tunku however was calm and took the results lying down. He said that “the people wanted a strong opposition and they are getting it this time” and that the results showed that no one could deny that there was democracy in Malaysia.¹²⁹ In a Kenduri, a religious gathering on 12 May 1969 to celebrate UMNO’s anniversary, the Tunku gave no hint that he knew about the trouble that was brewing. In the gathering he mentioned that while the election was a major setback for the Alliance, he reminded his supporters that the defeat was a good lesson for the party to be better prepared in future election.¹³⁰ So nonchalant was the Tunku of the election results that he even set down to work, officiating the opening of the Pedu Dam on 12 May 1969.¹³¹

While the Tunku seemed little ruffled by the lost, the opposition leaders were excited about the possibility of change. The Gerakan Secretary-General said that the “the swing away from the Alliance shows there is a pro-opposition wave sweeping the country…that the people have been disillusioned with Alliance misrule over the past 14 years”.¹³² DAP’s Lim Kit Siang said that the good performance by the opposition was “victory for the concept and ideals of a Malaysian Malaysia” and that Malaysians wanted a change from the Alliance’s misrule, corruption, racialism and incompetence. Lim then went to the heart of the terms of reference, telling the government that the election results indicated that it was time to appraise and modify the entire nation and address issues of language, education, economics and political equality.¹³³

Despite the big wins, there were issues in the forming of state governments. As if to drive home an irrepressible fact of Malaysian politics that to be in power one has to share power, the wins registered by the opposition parties in the states of Selangor and Perak was not enough to form the state government. In both states, none of the opposition parties managed to win a simple majority raising the spectre of an alliance between the most unlikely of parties or worst, forced a fresh state election. In Perak, the PPP together with Gerakan and DAP won 20 out of the 40 seats with the remaining seats won by the Alliance Party (19 seats) and the PMIP (1 seat). In Selangor, the 28 state assembly seats were split with the opposition taking 14 seats – the DAP 9 seats, the Gerakan 4 seats and 1 seat won by an independent candidate – with the Alliance winning the remaining 14 seats (Straits Times, 13 May 1969, Selangor, Perak to Poll Again).

The next two days following the election saw opposition parties – Gerakan, PPP and the DAP – making plans for a coalition to form the state government. The PMIP – even though an opposition party – was left out of the discussion. In Perak, the PPP president Seenivasagam was confident that he would form the state government announcing that he would send a letter to the Perak Sultan informing him of the formation of a coalition government involving the PPP, DAP and Gerakan. While Seenivasagam was confident of heading a coalition government, the number of opposition parties did not add to a simple majority. A possible solution to the impasse would be a coalition of the PPP, DAP and Gerakan with either the Alliance or the PMIP but PPP’s Seenivasagam dismissed such an option saying that there was no question of cooperation with either the Alliance or the PMIP¹³⁴ (Straits Times, 13 May 1969, Selangor, Perak to Poll Again).

It was a similar scenario in Selangor with the DAP Secretary-General, Goh Hock Guan, saying that his party would go all out to try and form a merger with Gerakan and other opposition candidates for a viable solution to the impasse.¹³⁵ After the election, the DAP approached the sole winning independent candidate, Lim Tuan Siong, to join the DAP, which the latter agreed. The DAP leader then met Gerakan’s Tan Chee Koon for possible coalition which the party agreed.¹³⁶ The Alliance who won 14 out of the 28 seats in Selangor also held hopes that it could work with Gerakan to form the state government. This possibility was dismissed by Gerakan’s chief Tan Chee Koon reiterating that “I have said many times that I will not sleep with Alliance… Now more than ever when they are castrated”.¹³⁷ While the opposition parties were busy making plans for a coalition government in Selangor and Perak, such plans were eclipsed by Malaysia’s worst episode – the May 13 riot.

The Day of Rioting

Recently released intelligence reports from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) reveal the chronology of events that led to the country’s worst riot. The chronology is consistent with the many versions of the events written by various authors but the difference between the accounts is one of emphasis.¹³⁸ For a more systematic account of the event that unfolded after the election results, it is best that we adopt process tracing, a method that gives emphasis on sequence and timing. The sequence and timing of events following the election – described below – are based on the latest intelligence reports and are verified using various existing sources.

On 11 of May and 12 May, the opposition parties held jubilant procession throughout Kuala Lumpur. There was no restraining their joyous mood. Infact the Gerakan leader Tan Chee Koon admitted that he had difficulties tempering the mood of his jubilant supporters. But the unchecked joy of victory turned into over exuberance and the victory parade became communal. The parade became decidedly communal when the crowd started to make inference on Malays and Malaysia’s terms of reference. Leon Comber, the author of 13 May 1969, who was also a former police officer wrote that “as the unruly crowd slowly wound its way through the town, past Kampong Bahru, the largest Malay residential area in Kuala Lumpur, where 30,000 Malays lived, hurling abuses and insults as it went such as “Melayu sudah jatuh” (the Malays had fallen), “Kuala Lumpur sekarang China punya” (Kuala Lumpur now belongs to the Chinese), “Ini negeri bukan Melayu punya, kita mahu halau semua Melayu” (This country does not belong to the Malays, we want to chase out the Malays) and the likes.¹³⁹ Kua Kia Soong’s account of the night of 11 and 12 May 1969 also confirmed that the opposition celebrated their victory. Kua mentioned of a large Gerakan procession to welcome the party’s left-wing leader V. David after the latter won the Federal seat in Penang. But unlike Leon Comber’s account, Kua Kia Soong’s version did not provide the details of the procession and the mood of the jubilant crowd.¹⁴⁰ Latest declassified documents from the FCO gave greater insights to the mood following the election results. The report mentioned that the “immediate reaction to election results was Chinese Jubilation and deep Malay shock and fear”.¹⁴¹ The report went on to say that “on night of 11 and 12 May, Chinese celebrated their victory, taunting Malays, in particular a large (unauthorised) Gerakan procession welcome the left-wing Gerakan leader V. David back from winning Federal seat in Penang”.¹⁴² The report went on to describe that as a result of the taunts on Malays, a group of Malays spent 13 May armed themselves with a variety of weapons while some Chinese groups made ready to retaliate or pre-empt and matters rapidly got out of hand.¹⁴³ In the book “Nation Before Self”, the author, who was a police officer then, wrote that there were plenty of provocations by the opposition supporters and that the funeral procession of the Labour Party member on the eve of polling day also contributed to strong reaction by the Malays describing that :

the sudden surge of excessive Chinese chauvinistic and uncontrolled emotions during the May 69 elections following opposition camps victory was accompanied by even some simplistic presumptuousness that even greater Chinese political ascendency and successes would follow. The aggressive posturing and defiance seen during the funeral procession of an opposition shot by the police few days earlier had already fumed the situation. All these acts together could only create anger and inflict humiliation on the fragile sensitivities of a basically proud race and people. Very strong Malay anger arose intermixed with political anxieties for the community’s future. A counter procession in strength with much embedded racial pride and improvised self-protection was planned and organized.¹⁴⁴

While most account furnished details of what happened during the riot, they missed out on another important fact: that Malays’ reaction could also be the result of sustained provocation given the coterie of events before and after the election. The brutal murder of the UMNO polling officer whose body was smeared with red paint in Jelutong weeks before polling day, the funeral procession of the Labour Party member on the eve of polling day and the taunting that came from the crowd on Malay passersby, the uncontrolled victory parades through the city of Kuala Lumpur, especially to high density Malay enclaves like Kampong Bahru and the accompanying taunts by the crowd that the Malays had lost power tested the Malays in ways unimaginable. While non-Malays heralded the new change, to the Malays the election results signalled that Malaysia’s terms of references would be changed in fundamental ways. Given the heightened emotions following the election, Malays reacted in ways that surprised many. The reaction is very much within the Malay character. In the coming days, the Malays went amuk (amok), a Malay word that has been imported to the English lexicon which means a psychic disturbance characterised by first, brooding followed by manic urge to murder.

On Monday May 12, a group of UMNO youths told the Chief Minister of Selangor, Harun Idris, that they planned to organise a procession as a counter to the victory parade of the opposition. The procession was to be held in Kampong Bahru, the large Malay enclave in the middle of Kuala Lumpur, and it was planned for the evening of May 13. Trouble however broke out before the procession after reports of fights between a group of Malays and Chinese in the morning of May 13. That morning a Malay group enroute to Kampong Bahru from the outer part of the city-Gombak – claimed that they were taunted by Chinese bystanders in Setapak, a few kilometres away from Kampong Bahru. Fights broke out between the two groups. News of the fight soon spread to the gathering crowd in Kampong Bahru. Some groups of Malays decided to break away from the rally and headed to Setapak. The fight in Setapak then spread to other parts of the city. In the afternoon of May 13, two Chinese lorries were burnt. Groups of Malays went to Chinese areas of Kuala Lumpur seeking for revenge. Vehicles were smashed and Chinese shop houses were set on fire and looted. Almost 450 houses were burnt by Malay rioters. When the Malay crowd retreated, there was counter-revenge by Chinese. Malay-owned cars and shopfronts were smashed or burnt. There were also attempts to set fire to the UMNO headquarters where three vehicles in the vicinity were set on fire.¹⁴⁵ There were also reports that the police did not fully impose the curfew with equal force. The report noted that despite the curfews there were still Malays with parangs and sharpened bamboo spears in areas under curfews. There were also reports that shots were fired at Chinese shop houses.¹⁴⁶

The madness of 13 May 1969 saw many killed. The official number was that 196 people were killed but unofficial figures estimated that 600 people were killed while other sources reported that the figure could be more than 1,000, mainly Chinese. A total of 102 bodies, mainly Chinese, were buried in the Sungai Buloh Leprosium, with the names of the victims inscribed in the tombstone, with some labelled as “Unidentified Chinese”. Eleven of the 102 bodies were Muslims and buried in a Muslim cemetery in Gombak while only one Malay was buried in the Sungai Buloh Leprosium.¹⁴⁷ On Wednesday, May 14, a state of emergency was called and a 24-hour curfew imposed. The curfew was in force throughout the month of May.

The Tunku blamed communist elements for provoking the Malays to run amok. Many – even UMNO members – refuted the Tunku’s claim of communist involvement. But a recently declassified document from the FCO revealed that the Labour Party – the party that boycotted the elections, killed a polling officer and held procession on the eve of polling day for one of their members – had intentions to create disturbances in the election. Pamphlets seized from the party’s headquarters and branches spoke of the Labour Party’s plan to disrupt the election. The Labour Party’s pamphlets spoke directly of contesting and subverting Malaysia’s terms of reference. The pamphlets were written in Chinese (translated by the FCO report) and contained suggestive slogans. Some of the slogans include: “Malaysia Green Guards (Chinese)! Unite Together to oppose Malaysia, oppose UMNO, oppose American and British imperialist, oppose the Alliance”…. “Down with Malaysia, the Government of the Malay….” …. “Massacre the Malays, topple the Chinese cabinet ministers”…. “preserve Chinese education, eliminate the sole national language”.¹⁴⁸ The pamphlet went on to describe that “We (Chinese) do not need the phony citizenship of Malaysia. What we want is the eternal cultural revolution and thoughts of Chairman Mao Tse Tong”.¹⁴⁹ These were powerful slogans that, at that time, could provoke strong reactions and rattle the Malay leadership should they know of such plans.

Was the Tunku right in blaming the Labour party for the riot? As Prime Minister, the Tunku might have access to intelligence report that made him blame the Labour Party and the communists for the riot. It might well be that the Tunku kept the intelligence away from public knowledge to restore public confidence and prevent more senseless bloodbath. Whatever it is, the Tunku’s refusal to put the blame on any one ethnic group spoke of the state’s effort to diffuse tension. A secret dispatch from the British High Commissioner hinted at the possibility that the Tunku could have chosen to blame the communist because he was not prepared to blame the Malays or the Chinese; it is his way of making peace and not aggravate the sentiments of Malays and Chinese.¹⁵⁰ The comment by the British High Commissioner may well be true as it is consistent with the Tunku’s character. At a time when racial tension was fever pitch, the Tunku – as prime minister – could be trying to calm nerves and maintain a semblance of equilibrium and sanity to a contested and highly volatile Leviathan. It is likely that the Tunku might be persuaded to use the Labour Party as a bogeyman given the Party’s involvement in the various disturbances leading up to the election– the party’s involvement in the hartal of 1967, the release of 11 men on death rows in 1968 and the funeral procession of a Labour Party member on the eve of polling day in May 1969. If this was the Tunku’s attempt to appease all parties, he ended up appeasing no one as the months ahead saw the Tunku’s exiting from the political scene.

The Aftermath of May 13 Riot: Recalibrating Equilibrium

In the aftermath of the riot, emergency orders were put in place, parliament was suspended and the National Operations Council (NOC) operated as the interim government. Elections planned for East Malaysia was also postponed indefinitely. The NOC was intended to bring normalcy to the tense situation. The council was task to draw up plans for a long-term solution to Malaysia’s political, economic and social issues. It was headed by Tun Razak, who was the Director of Operations and senior members of the Alliance Party like MCA’s Tan Siew Sin and T. Sambathan from the MIC. Tunku Abdul Rahman was not a member of the council but was in communication with Tun Razak. Tan Siew Sin who announced earlier that the MCA would not be in the cabinet after the party’s heavy loss, decided to be part of the NOC given the new situation. The council also included the police, the military and senior public servants.

One of the first tasks of the NOC was to bring back normalcy to inter-ethnic relations and this it did by setting up goodwill committees. These are “multi-racial” committees and they were setup at all levels of society. Another immediate task of the NOC was to prevent the ethnic conflict from spreading beyond Kuala Lumpur especially to more ethnically plural states like Penang, Malacca and Perak which, if not checked, could result in a full-scale civil war that would stretch resources. Curfew was initially imposed for 24 hours to limit ethnic interactions but was later relaxed after calm was restored. Security was beefed up under joint police-military operations throughout Kuala Lumpur and the areas beyond by way of patrols and imposing road blocks. Arrests were made on groups or individuals suspected of inciting violence. Communist sympathisers and secret societies members suspected of having possession of or access to weapons were arrested. Political meetings and political party publications were banned to prevent possible escalation of political views and violence. Strict censorship was carried out on the printing of materials and photographs that could disrupt public order and security. Foreign publications were also scrutinised before being circulated.¹⁵¹ The NOC also called on all those who were granted citizenship under Article 30 of the constitution and who obtained it before October 1962 to resubmit their citizen documents for review. The exercise affected 250,000 Malaysians, all of them non-Malays.¹⁵²

To remove frayed nerves and demonstrate that the NOC held no fear or favour to any group, security forces clamped down on a group of Malays who went on a rampage in one area of Kuala Lumpur, in Chow Kit Road, that killed a policeman. The flare up that later spread to the nearby town of Sentul saw security forces coming down hard on the arsonists with 80 people arrested.¹⁵³ The NOC also reined in vocal political leaders that could worsen the fragile order. The authorities arrested opposition leaders – Gerakan’s V David and DAP’s Lim Kit Siang – on suspicion that they were involved in the riot. The arrest of the two men were heavily contested by the Gerakan and the DAP. Two UMNO members were also purged from the party for extreme views. One of them Dr Mahathir Mohamad was asked to leave UMNO after he wrote a terse letter to the Prime Minister which was then circulated to the public. In the letter Mahathir blamed the Tunku for his weak leadership. The UMNO leadership felt that the letter was an affront and certainly not helpful at promoting peace and normalcy to an already tense situation.¹⁵⁴ Five of Mahathir’s works were also banned from circulation. Another of UMNO’s young leader, Musa Hitam, was also ousted from the party for breaching the party’s discipline. In justifying the dismissal of the two UMNO leaders, Dr Ismail commented “that these ultras believe in the wild and fantastic theory of absolute dominion by one race over the other communities, regardless the constitution”.¹⁵⁵ Ismail reiterated the Tunku’s firmly held view of a multiracial Malaysian society saying that a one-race dominant society “is not just a harmless pipe-dream but an extremely dangerous fantasy”.¹⁵⁶

But the more important task for the NOC was to recalibrate the equilibrium of a contested leviathan, broken by the bloody riot. While the Tunku refused to blame any ethnic groups for the violence of May 13, other leaders like Dr Ismail and and Tun Razak came down hard on both Alliance leaders and opposition leaders. Ismail and Razak’s decision to take out extreme voices in UMNO and opposition parties were very much in keeping with the need to recalibrate the equilibrium. The effort though produced mixed reactions. UMNO’s decision to remove Mahathir and Musa Hitam was well-received by Gerakan, the PMIP, Chinese Chambers and Indian Unions but not so by Malays and some UMNO members. Displeasure towards the UMNO, particularly Tunku Abdul Rahman’s leadership over the dismissal of the two leaders, saw student protests at the University of Malaya, Islamic College and MARA.¹⁵⁷ The arrest of V, David and Lim Kit Siang also bore the ire of opposition parties with the DAP refusing to take part in any reconciliation process until the government released the party’s stalwart. The emergency and heavy military presence also raised public fear that Malaysia would see an unprecedented military government. The Alliance leaders however were quick to dismiss this, saying that the emergency was needed to restore civil order and that it was never the party’s intention to allow the emergency and the NOC to operate indefinitely.¹⁵⁸

Another effort to recalibrate the equilibrium was the NOC’s initiative to set up the National Consultative Council (NCC). The NCC was part of the national reconciliation effort and given the mandate to provide a safe space for members of society to raise and discuss contentious issues and provide policy suggestions. The NCC was planned as an inclusive setup comprising of various stakeholders. The 65-member strong NCC comprised of bureaucrats representing the Federal and state governments, religious organisations, professional associations, trade unions, the press and minority representations. Political parties were also invited. All political parties participated in the NCC dialogue, except for the DAP. The party insisted that it would only participate in the NCC on condition of Lim Kit Siang’s release. In the NCC, the UMNO had five members, the MCA three members, the MIC one, PMIP had two, Gerakan had one, the PPP had one and Parti Rakyat had one member.¹⁵⁹ With regards to ethnic representation the NCC’s 65 members had an ethnic representation of 30 Malays, 17 Chinese, 7 Indians and 11 “others”.¹⁶⁰ The government also approved and gazetted amendments to the Seditious Act in August 1970. This was part of a string of measures to prevent the raising of issues that could result in another ethnic flare-up. Under the new act anyone found guilty of inciting ethnic hate would be fine up to $5,000 or jail a maximum of three years.

The aftermath of the riot saw not just a recalibration of the equilibrium but an entrenchment of Malaysia’s terms of reference. With calm restored, the NOC introduced a series of acts. A new education policy was announced on 9 July 1969, which stood to reinforce Malaysia’s terms of reference. Coming as it did after May 1969, the policy had all the signs of knee jerk reaction to establish the primacy of the Malay language. The new policy was to begin on September 1969 where instructions in all Primary one subjects (Standard 1), including mathematics and science would be in Malay. Teaching in Malay would progressively be extended to all levels of schooling, a year at a time. The plan was that by 1982 all instructions up to A levels (Form VI) would be conducted entirely in Malay. In the midst of a nation recovering from its worst riot, the latest education policy invited obvious reactions. The education minister Rahman Yakob stayed firm with the ministry’s policy saying that “those who chose to row their boats against the national currents will undoubtedly be swept away”.¹⁶¹ In a special meeting with Utusan Melayu, Rahman said that the “government has been very lenient, persuading certain sectors to learn and use Bahasa Malaysia, but if persuasion still does not provide results, then we must resort to whip”.¹⁶² The Prime Minister was not particularly happy with the minister’s abrasive remarks pointing out that the minister could have worded his remarks in a manner that was less provocative.¹⁶³

There were others measures that not only recalibrated the equilibrium of a contested Leviathan but also reinforced the country’s terms of reference. Before parliament reconvened on 23 February 1971, the emergency government released a white paper proposing a series of amendments to the constitution to be discussed and passed by parliament. The white paper had two objectives. The first is to “remove sensitive issue from the realm of public discussions so as to allow the smooth functioning of parliamentary democracy” and the second is to redress the racial imbalance in certain sectors of the nation’s life and thereby promote national unity.¹⁶⁴ An interesting feature of the white paper is that it made reference to the term “entrench”. It is a loaded term because essentially the documents underscored a reemphasis of Malaysia’s terms of reference. One initiative of the white paper was the introduction of a national ideology, the Rukun Negara. The objective of the Rukun Negara was to promote broad consensus and take out extreme demands of a plural polity. Proclaimed on Malaysia’s Independence Day on 31 August 1970, the Rukun Negara has five pillars or pledges: the Belief in God; Loyalty to King and Country; Upholding the constitution; Rule of Law and Good Behaviour and Morality. Rukun Negara reiterates Malaysia’s terms of reference. At the heart of it, the Rukun Negara speaks of the need to respect the spirit of the Federal constitution, which embeds the country’s terms of reference. The Rukun Negara is yet another social contract. Just like the pre-colonial, colonial period, the Rukun Negara is emblematic of the need to preserve the country’s terms of reference – Malay, Islam and Monarchy.

Another law that came under review was the Sedition Ordinance. While the amendment to the Sedition Act was first made in August 1970 subsequent amendments were introduced to consolidate and preserve Malaysia’s terms of reference. In the latest amendments, it was now an offence “to question any matter, right, status, position, privilege, sovereignty or prerogative established or protected by the provision of Part III of the Federal Constitution or Article 152, 153 or 181 of the Federal Constitution” (Government of Malaysia, Emergency Ordinance No.45 of 1970). These articles touch on the rights of citizenship, Malay special rights, the status and powers of the Malay rulers, the status of Islam and the status of Malay as the sole national language. The Seditious act explicitly prohibits contempt against the government and the nine Malay sultans. The Ordinance also tightened laws against any acts that incite hatred between the various races and religions or acts that question the special position of the Malays and the natives of Sabah and Sarawak. This includes matters relating to Malay as a national language, the special position of the Malays and the sovereignty and position of the Malay rulers. The Act also applied to members of parliament. While members of parliament were free from civil or criminal liability when making speeches in parliament, they are liable for cases involving the Sedition Act.¹⁶⁵

Changes were also made to the Election Offences Act and the Local Government Elections Act. The amendments disallowed anyone who has been convicted of seditions to contest as a candidate in the Federal, State or local government elections for five years. There were also amendments to the Societies Act that allows for the deregistering of any society if it is found that “members of the societies indulge in habitual seditious activities”.¹⁶⁶ Another amendment to the constitution was a bill that aims to address the racial imbalance in certain sectors of the economy. This new law provides the King – the Yang di-Pertuan Agong – the power to reserve Malays and natives of Sabah and Sarawak a reasonable proportion of places in universities, colleges and other institutions of higher learning.¹⁶⁷ There were also other safeguards to Malaysia’s terms of reference. One of it is that any proposed changes with regards to the “entrench laws” such as the Seditious Act must obtain the consent of the Conference of Rulers. In justifying the government’s introduction of the bills, Tun Abdul Razak told parliament that the government had to introduce such measures because “at stake is the survival of the nation” and that “democratic system in which we are working has to bear the stresses and strains of a multi-racial society”.¹⁶⁸

The series of measures under the seditious Act obviously invited heated debates. The slew of amendments to the Act saw the PPP and the DAP arguing for revision of the bill. Lim Kit Siang from the DAP did not agree with the Alliance’s version of the riot and protested against the slew of amendments in the white paper. Lim said that we are “swiftly reaching a stage where the practice of racialism is a virtue, and the criticism of racialism a crime”.¹⁶⁹ He also said that the proposed amendments stood to accelerate rather than arrest racial polarisation. Lim also asked for a review of the language policy to include other languages not just Malay, as official languages. Lim’s idea was shot down by the Attorney General who said that advocates of multilingualism are “standing on dynamite” arguing that “what is good for one country does not mean that it is applicable to another as each country has different historical background and traditions”.¹⁷⁰ The opposition members also asked that the parliamentary immunity be given to law makers with respect to the sedition Act. Not doing so, they argued, was counter to the idea of parliamentary democracy. They rued that such provisions under the act would compromise the power of the legislature as the mere raising of such issue would be considered seditious.¹⁷¹ The PPP leader Dr Seenivasagam argued that “in no other country which practices democracy…do we find such repugnant provisions giving power to the executive to arrest MPs for what they speak in parliament”.¹⁷² The Gerakan Party member, Dr Tan Chee Koon also saw the bill as “a cure that was worse than the disease”.¹⁷³ The debates over the Sedition Act saw harsh words being traded between the Deputy Minister Tun Dr Ismail and PPP’s Seenivasagam with the former accusing the latter of being a “rouge and a scamp” that prompted four PPP MPs to walk out of parliament. In the end, the amendment to the Sedition Ordinance was passed on a vote of 125 to 17. All the opposition parties voted for the amendment with the exception of members from the DAP (13 members) and the PPP (4 members).¹⁷⁴

One landmark initiative by the newly setup Department of National Unity is the New Economic Policy (NEP), a policy that would hog Malaysia’s political, social and economic debates for years to come. The NEP was tabled as part of the Second Malaysia Plan 1971–1975 and presented to parliament on July 1971. It was an economic policy with specific political and social ambitions. The policy had two objectives. The first objective was to eradicate poverty by raising income levels and creating more employment opportunities. The second objective was to restructure the Malaysian society by correcting economic imbalance between the different ethnic groups and in the process eliminate the identification of economic function with ethnicity. As a policy idea the NEP had a mix of neoliberal economic ideas and state intervention. Redistribution is a big part of the policy, premised on the idea that Malaysia’s challenge with identity politics would be mitigated with a growing economic cake, non-identification of race with economic function, a more even distribution of wealth and a wealthy bumiputera community. The drafters of the NEP had the Malays in mind targeting that by 1990 – when the policy expired – Malays would own 30 percent of corporate wealth, with Chinese owning 40 percent and Others 30 percent. It is a crude measure by any account, but the policy was drawn up against a wealth distribution in the 1970 where Malays owned a mere 2 percent of corporate wealth with 63 percent of wealth owned by foreigners, 35 percent owned by non-Malays of which Chinese owned 27.2 percent of wealth.¹⁷⁵ In deliberating the policy, the newly appointed Prime Minister Tun Abdul Razak presented a host of measures meant to “create a viable and thriving Malay industrial and commercial community” and to accelerate employment for Malays. The NEP was greeted with anxiety from non-Malays who feared that greater economic opportunities for Malays would come at the expense of economic deprivation of non-Malays. In allaying the fears, Tun Razak assured that the NEP would not be the case of robbing Peter to pay Paul reiterating that the “the rights, properties or privileges now belonging to whichever groups or individuals will not be taken away and given to others”.¹⁷⁶

In tabling the $14-million development plan, Tun Abdul Razak announced programmes earmarked for the NEP. This included promoting the agricultural sector – a sector that would potentially benefit the Malays – and using existing institutions such MARA, Pernas and State Economic Development Corporations to encourage Malay participation in new growth sectors and create a new Malay commercial and industrial community.¹⁷⁷ Additional plans were put in place in the mid-term review of the Malaysian Development Plan 1971–1975, this time targetting the growth of Malay entrepreneurial class. This included initiatives to enhance the provision of finance to Malay entrepreneurs, encourage non-Malays and foreign-owned companies to provide training and other business supports for Malays and to encourage Malay capital ownership with the setting of a special Unit Trust to be operated by MARA.¹⁷⁸ The mid-term review also set out specific target to achieve the NEP, spelling out that by 1990, the Malays and other indigenous people “will own and manage at least 30 percent of total commercial and industrial activities of the economy in all categories and scales of operation”.¹⁷⁹

Did the NEP serve its objectives? Malaysia’s adoption of liberal economic policies, its strong emphasis on export-led industrialisation, its promotion of growth sectors, its investment-friendly fiscal policies, its high savings rate and fiscal discipline saw the economy outperforming many regional economies between 1970 and 1990s.¹⁸⁰ With a growing economy, per capita income increased from RM 1,937 in 1970 at the time when the NEP was introduced to RM 6,298 in 1990 at the end of the NEP period. Poverty was sharply reduced. If in 1970, 65 percent of Malays were considered poor, by 1990 poverty among Malays was reduced to just 20 percent. Other ethnic groups also saw their wealth increasing. In 1970, 26 percent of Chinese were poor but by 1990, only 6 percent of Chinese were considered poor. For the Indian community, 39 percent were considered poor in 1970 but by 1990, only 8 percent of Indians were classified as poor.

While the NEP scored on economic growth and overall poverty reduction, the policy produced unintended consequences. With heavy state involvement, the NEP produced economic distortions that resulted in less-than-optimal economic output. The policy suffered from capture – both by the state as well as political and business elites – that would see rising levels of rent seeking and patronage. More importantly, the NEP produced social and political distortions. Rather than reduced exclusive institutions and interests as the drafters of the NEP envisioned, the policy accentuated, deepened and proliferated mutually exclusive ethnic interests. Every sector of the Malaysian society is now distinguished by ethnic imperatives be it schools, workplaces, residential areas, universities, trade unions, NGOs and of course political parties.¹⁸¹ The imperfections of the NEP’s implementation bore the hallmark of what could possibly go wrong with state intervention. To its critics, the NEP had failed. It brought about political patronage, created a rentier class society, sapped Malaysia’s of much-needed talent, accentuated the intra-ethnic divide, increased urban-rural income gap and polarised further an already divided society. But on a more measured note, the NEP could well be a necessary evil because the policy forced Malaysia to maintain a diversified economy to increase its economic cake, without which Malaysia’s attempt at affirmative policy would have collapsed. Without the NEP and efforts at eradicating poverty and inequality, it would be hard to imagine Malaysia registering the success and political peace it had during this period.

A Unity Government?

The May 13 crisis brought about the most unlikely of political arrangement, but one that is turning out to be a character of Malaysian politics. The crisis led to the coming together of political parties that for years fought tooth and nail over many issues with regards to Malaysia’s terms of reference. The move to form a “unity” government was first made public by MCA’s Khaw Khai Boh and UMNO’s Ghafar Baba and Abdul Samad Idris who called for the Alliance to join hands with the PMIP, who had control of the state of Kelantan. PMIP’s chief Asri Muda welcomed the idea. In 1973, the PMIP (now called PAS) joined the Alliance to form a joint state government in Kelantan and Trengganu. Dato Asri himself was made a federal minister being appointed as the minister of Land and Mines. In Penang, the Gerakan, which had been a staunch opponent of the Alliance also agreed to partner the Alliance. In Perak, the PPP – the party that walked out of parliament in protest of the Seditious Act (1970) – also agreed to join and be part of a new coalition. In the Borneo states of Sabah and Sarawak, the Alliance Party now had the Sabah Alliance, SUPP and Parti Pesaka Bumiputra Bersatu Sarawak. In what would be an unthinkable proposition months before, the Alliance Party together with the other parties agreed to come together under a new party – a grand coalition called the Barisan Nasional or National Front. The coming together of all parties – with the exception of the DAP and the Labour Party – was yet another show of the commitment by Malaysian actors to restore equilibrium to a highly contentious Leviathan. Perhaps the May 13 riot and membership of the NCC provided political parties with deeper knowledge of the difficulties and intricacies of public policy works and designs that made them realign their political posturing and come together for national reconciliation. As it turned out, the formation of the Barisan Nasional in 1973 was not Malaysia’s last at consociationalism. In a repeat of the 1973 act, political foes came together to form a unity government in 2022 following a bitter and divisive election. This time the most unlikely of parties, the UMNO joined hands with the DAP and other opposition parties to form a unity government. It must be said that this coming together of political foes in times of crisis is becoming characteristically Malaysian.

Conclusion

The 12 years after independence turned out to be Malaysia’s most challenging, a period that saw it battling to maintain equilibrium to a contested Leviathan. This period witnessed the extent to which mutually exclusive ethnic institutions – crafted from many years of colonial rule – acted on the country’s terms of reference. The elections of 1959, 1964 and 1969 demonstrate how political parties – whose main support remains ethnically centred – stood ever ready to capitalise on ethnic-based issues for political capital that eventually led to a full-blown crisis in May 1969.

The events that took place in the first 12 years of Malaysia’s independence seemed to confirm that every time there is a crisis, Malaysia would see the reinforcement of the state’s terms of reference. The 1969 riot and the policies that ensued saw a reaffirming or entrenchment of the country’s terms of reference. These responses were not unlike the policy responses that came after the murder of J. W. Birch in 1875, the formation of the Federated Malay States in 1896 and the Malayan Union proposal in 1946 that threatened to do away with Malay privileges and the Monarchy. The NEP, the Seditious Act and the Malay Language policy that followed the 1969 crisis are the latest production of these entrenchments. In fact, the political change that Malaysia experienced in 2018 did not dilute the country’s terms of reference.¹⁸² The outcome of the latest election in 2022 and the most recent state elections in 2023 suggest that a reinforcement of the state’s terms of reference could be in the offing.

Notes

Lerner (2013, p. 11).

Lerner (2013, p. 11).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 148).

Smith (1960, p. 40).

Smith (1960, pp. 40–41).

Smith (1960, pp. 40–41).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 149).

Smith (1960, p. 43).

Smith (1960, p. 44).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 148).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 147).

Fletcher (1969, pp. 72–73).

Milne (1963, p. 76).

Lee (1998, pp. 242–3).

Milne (1963, p. 76).

Telegraph 363, Moore to Macleod, 1 September 1961, CO 1030/982.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 154).

Fletcher (1969, pp. 72–73).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 154).

Lee (1998, p. 507)

Lee (1998, p. 507).

Milne (1967, p. 179).

Straits Times, 21 September 1964.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 158).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 159).

Josey (1980, p. 191).

Josey (1980, p. 296).

Straits Budget, 8 April 1964.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 166).

Straits Budget, 8 April 1964.

Straits Budget, 11 March 1964.

Straits Budget, 25 March 1964.

People’s Action Party, Election Manifesto, Singapore 1964, p. 4.

Fletcher (1969, pp. 72–73); New York Times, 19 April 1964.

Lee (1964, p. 20) in Fletcher (1969, pp. 72–73).

Milne and Ratnam (1974, pp. 146–7).

Milne and Ratnam (1974, pp. 146–7).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 168).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 168).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 169).

Straits Budget, 21 October 1964.

Straits Budget, 4 November 1964.

Straits Times, 5 May 1965.

Straits Times, 5 May 1965.

Straits Times, 5 May 1965.

Straits Times, 25 May 1965.

Parmer (1966, pp. 111–18).

Straits Times, 5 September 1965.

Straits Budget 1 September 1965.

The Straits Times, 24 August 1965.

Straits Times, 12 October 1965.

Straits Budget, 27 October 1965.

The Straits Times, 27 October 1965.

Berita Harian, 6 March 1967.

Eastern Sun, 29 May 1968.

The Straits Times, 26 August 1967.

Van Vorys (1975, p. 208); Malaysia, Dewan Rakyat, Parliamentary Debates, Vol III, No. 45, March 2, 1967, col. 6004 in Von Vorys (1975, p. 208).

Straits Times, 10 October 1966, Countrywide tour to gather support for Chinese language.

Straits Times, 10 October 1966, Countrywide tour to gather support for Chinese language.

Straits Times, 25 October 1966, HQ youth back Tan on language issue.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 208).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 208).

Roff (1967, pp. 316–28).

Roff (1967, pp. 316–28).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 207).

3 March 1967, Berita Harian.

Snider (1968, pp. 960–75).

In 1957, Penang population was 340,000, out of which there were 230,000 Chinese, 60,000 Malays and 40,000 Indians.

Snider (1968, pp. 960–75).

Eastern Sun, 1 January 1968.

Eastern Sun, 1 Januray 1968

Snider (1968, pp. 960–75).

The Edge, 11 September 2013, Penang’s Untold Story: Hartal 1967.

The Edge, 11 September 2013, Penang’s Untold Story: Hartal 1967.

Straits Budget, 31 January 1968.

Straits Budget, 31 January 1968.

The Edge, 11 September 2013, Penang’s Untold Story: Hartal 1967.

Von Vorys (1975, pp. 193–4).

The Straits Times, 5 July 1968.

The Straits Times, 5 July 1968.

The Straits Times, 6 July 1968.

The Straits Times, 6 July 1968.

The Straits Times, 6 July 1968.

The Straits Times, 3 August 1968.

Straits Times, 2 August 1968, Sultan Turns down mercy plea.

Straits Times, 3 August 1968, Now a Perak “no” to mercy plea.

The Straits Times, 10 July 1968, Death Row Six: Decision tomorrow.

The Straits Times, 6 July 1968, New Hope for Death row six.

The Straits Times, 10 July 1968, Death Row six: Decision tomorrow.

The Straits Times, 9 July 1968, Pardons Board gets A-G’s opinion.

Straits Times, 9 July 1968, Pardons Board Gets A-G’s opinion.

Straits Times, 25 July 1969, Two more join death row.

The Straits Times, 9 July 1968, Death Row Eleven: New Move by Counsel.

The Straits Times, 5 August 1968, Death Row 11: “Stay” writ hearing today”.

Straits Times, 14 July 1968, Death row 11 – a last desperate appeal to Tun Tan by parents.

Straits Times, 19 July 1968, Death Row Eleven: New Move by Counsel.

Straits Times, 19 July 1968, Death Row Eleven: New Move by Counsel.

Straits times, 14 July 1968, Death row 11 – a last desperate appeal to Tun Tan by parents.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 198).

Straits Times, 11 March 1969.

Straits Times, 11 March 1969.

Snider (1970, pp. 1070–80).

Straits Times, 22 February 1969.

Eastern Sun, 1 May 1969, Tunku to Evict Singaporeans who gave money to PMIP.

Straits Times, 7 May 1969, Singapore denies polls aid charges.

FCO 24/484.

FCO 24/484.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 276).

Slimming (1969, pp. 12–13).

Straits Times, 25 April 1969, Stop Press Man Fatally Injured.

Straits Times, 28 April 1969, Curfew by 13 hours.

The Straits Times, 26 April 1969, Curfew Orders dropped by Copters.

The Straits Times, 26 April 1969, Curfew Orders dropped by Copters.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 285).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 285).

Straits Times, 11 April 1969, One-race Govt “will destroy”.

Straits Times, 11 April 1969, One-race Govt “will destroy”.

Straits Times, 5 May 1969, Youth Killed in clash with police.

Slimming (1969, p. 17).

Slimming (1969, p. 17).

Comber (1983, p. 67).

Von Vorys (1975, pp. 287–8).

Straits Times, 11 May 1969, Gerakan Wins Penang: Shock Defeats for Senu, Mahathir.

Straits Times, 12 May 1969, The State Contests: Who’s in control where.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 309).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 298).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 294).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 294).

Straits Times, 12 May 1969, Rough Passage for the Alliance Boat.

Straits Times, 13 May 1969, Tengku to form “More Dynamic Cabinet”.

Straits Times, 12 May 1969, Tengku for today’s ceremony at Pedu Dam.

Straits Times, 12 May 1969, Rough Passage for the Alliance Boat.

Straits Times, 12 May 1969, A Victory for Malaysian Malaysia, says DAP’s Kit Siang.

Straits Times, 13 May 1969.

Straits Times, 12 May 1969, Rough Passage for the Alliance Boat.

Straits Times, 12 May 1969, Rough Passage for the Alliance Boat.

Straits Times, 13 May 1969, Selangor, Perak to Poll Again.

FCO 24/486.

Comber (1983, p. 69).

Kua (2007, p. 42).

FCO 24/484.

FCO 24/484.

FCO 24/484.

Leng (2006, p. 174).

Kua (2007, p. 44).

Malaysia: Requiem for Democracy? Bob Reece, Far Eastern Economic Review, Vol 64, No.21, 18/24 May 1969, 437 quoted in Kua (2007, p. 44).

Nordin Yusof (2021, p. 98).

FCO 24/249.

FCO 24/249.

FCO 24/249.

Vasil (1980, p. 188).

Vasil (1980, p. 188).

Straits Times, 9 July 1969, 13 More Held for Sentul Murders.

Straits Times, 13 July 1969, Mahathir out of top UMNO body.

Straits Times, 3 August 1969, Stop it! Ismail warns the ultras.

Straits Times, 3 August 1969, Stop it! Ismail warns the ultras.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 378).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 342).

The Straits Times, 13 January 1970. Way now open to resolve race problems

Means (1991, p. 10).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 397).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 397).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 397).

Means (1991, p. 140).

Vasil (1980, p. 190).

Vasil (1980, p. 191).

The Straits Times, 24 February 1971, Razak: We Can’t take Risks.

The Straits Times, 24 February 1971, We cannot take risks.

Von Vorys (1975, p. 420).

The Straits Times, 26 February 1971, Warning to DAP: This is dynamite.

Vasil (1980, p. 191).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 421).

Von Vorys (1975, p. 421).

The Straits Times, 4 March 1971, 125 to 17 Triumph.

Drabble, John (2000, p. 20).

The Straits Times, 13 July 1971, Call to make $14 Mln plan a success.

The Straits Times, 13 July 1971, Call to make $14 Mln plan a success.

Vasil (1980, p. 198).

Vasil (1980, p. 198).

Noh, Abdillah (2013).

Noh and Yashaiya (2023).

Noh and Yashaiya (2023).

7 Conclusion

DOI: 10.4324/9781003320548-7

The objective of this book is to make sense of the character of Malaysia’s political economy. It has done this by tracing the pre-colonial and colonial political, economic and social arrangements of the Malay States, between the period 1800 and 1957. This is the period when capitalism was introduced that reordered the pre-colonial political, administrative, economic and social structures of the Malay States. The founding of the Straits Settlements in the early nineteenth century and the availability of capital, labour and natural resources expedited interest in the Malay States. Utilitarianism, capitalism and modern bureaucracy entered the lexicon of the political economy of the Malay States. With time, the feudal arrangement gave way to modern bureaucratic arrangement. The confluence of events – the discovery of large tin deposits, the end of the Sino-British opium war, cheap availability of capital and labour and the favourable terms of trade – only speeded up the process of change. The introduction of large number of Chinese labour and capital into the sparsely populated Malay peninsula – that started in earnest after the end of the Sino-British opium war – saw not just rising economic productivity but created much flux in a political economy that was still getting acquainted with modern production and a capital-driven economy. This was the time of great upheaval, a time when old actors (Malays) had to make the difficult transition from a feudal economy to one that was based on a wage-economy, consumerism and capital. The huge changes in the political economy saw not just changing expectations of the old actors (Malays) as they adjusted to a modern economy but also the formation of new actors (British and Chinese). Applying the law of increasing returns and path dependence, it became obvious that after nearly a hundred years of British presence, British short-term rational economic policies bore long-term unintended consequences that would see Malaya having new political, social and economic arrangements. The essential feature of this new political economy is the presence of autonomous communities with mutually exclusive institutions and interests that began to compete for Malaya’s social, political and economic resources. Indeed, 100-odd years of British rule transformed Malaya. In 1957, at the point of its independence, Malaya was vastly different from the political economy of the Malay States at the start of British presence.

Another purpose of this book is to develop a framework to understand the mechanics of Malaysia’s political economy, that is, to develop a sort of a blueprint to make sense of Malaysia’s political, social and economic character. By applying institutional analysis, this book develops the Contested Leviathan Framework. Essentially, the framework describes the extent to which Malaysia’s mutually exclusive ethnic institutions and interests continue to make contending demands on the country’s terms of reference. This contentions necessitated the state to form some form of consociational arrangement to bring equilibrium to a contested Leviathan. There are three components to the framework. The first is the “terms of reference.” This is the basic terms of reference that defines Malaysia. This terms of reference refers to three basic characteristics of the Malaysian polity – Monarchy, Islam and Malay. The book has explained that based on historical accounts of the Malay States, Malay, Islam and the monarchy have been a constant feature of Malaysia’s political history – pre-colonial, colonial and post-colonial period. While modern Malaysia is a representative democracy, it is also a constitutional monarchy. Malay, Islam and Monarchy are provided for the country’s Federal constitution, specifically articles 3, 152, 153 and 181 of the constitution. Together with Malayness, Islam cannot be disentangled from the idea of the Monarchy. Islam has been a feature of the Malay Peninsula from as early as the ninth century. Islamic principles were first adopted to deal with religious matters but later became guides in the running of state administration. So integral are elements of Malayness, Islam and monarchy in the organization of the Malay States that the Pangkor Treaty of 1874 provided for the role of the Malay sultan in safeguarding elements of the “Mohamedan religion”, customs and traditions. In effect, the treaty provided for British de facto rule operating alongside Malay de jure power. This arrangement would entrench the terms of reference over time. The law of increasing returns and path dependence ensured that Malay demands continued to be kept up. With Malay demands comes greater Malay capacity that saw the creation of strings of Malay-based institutions – the Malay land reservation enactment, the Malay Administrative service, the Conference of Malay rulers, the special quotas for Malay civil servants, the creation of Malay education institutions that produced intellectuals who then contributed to Malay nationalism. There were British attempts to remove Malay de jure power. These attempts not only failed, they ended up strengthening further Malay de jure power. Indeed, after more than 100 years of British presence, British preservation of Malay de jure power made them accidental champion of Malay, Islam and Monarchy – terms of reference that are enshrined in the federal constitution.

When discussing the terms of reference, questions remain: does the constancy of the terms of reference mean that the terms of reference are non- pliable or non-negotiable? Should we conflate the term constancy with the idea of rigidity and non-negotiability? While at its very core, the terms of reference are seemingly non-negotiable, they are negotiable in so far as there are no attempts to completely remove them. Malayness, Islam and Monarchy are pliable institutions. These institutions have gone through changes. It is only when there were attempts to revoke these terms of reference completely did we see strong reactions to reinstitute them. The murder of J.W. Birch, the MCP-MNP coalition, the AMCJA-PUTERA People’s Constitution, the IMP’s integrationist project, the Malayan Union proposal, the PAP’s “Malaysian Malaysia” project, the May 1969 election and the ensuing riot were all attempts – perceptibly – to revoke the terms of references that produced a pushback. The incorporation of Islam in the administration, for example, is never static. Infusion of Islamic practices in the bureaucracy has been very much a function of Malaysia’s changing political, economic and social configurations (Noh and Yashaiya, 2022, 53–77). Granted, there is always the fear of creeping Islamisation in Malaysia. Rising ethno-religious nationalism gives further reason not to dismiss the possibility of extreme behaviour. But such fear is also based on a monolithic interpretation of Islam. There are varieties of Islam. Islam in Southeast Asia, specifically, in Malaysia, operates in a highly plural and cosmopolitan context that gives it a distinct character.¹ In post-colonial Malaysia, Islam has been retooled to adapt to changing political, social and economic environments, all in an effort to strike a compromise given competing demands (Noh and Yashaiya, 2022, 53–77). In my readings of Malaysian history, I cannot see Malaysia legislating an extensive Islamic code of conduct and punishing non-conformance. Malaysia’s political, economic and social history has always celebrated and benefitted from cross-civilisational interactions. It must be said that Southeast Asia’s brand of Islam has shown to be well-adept to changing conditions and Malaysia is not an exception. The growth of China and India and the increasing geopolitical and economic significance of regions west of the Pacific would require an Islam that is attuned to such changes and any form of extreme Islam would be too much of a risk for a functioning plural society like Malaysia. On a more optimistic note and based on Malaysia’s past experiences, any forms of extremism would upset the contested Leviathan that would trigger mechanisms to correct the disequilibrium. The monarchy is also an institution that has proven to evolve to cater to a plural society. The institution in its current form is vastly different from the Malay monarchy at the start of British rule. Despite a difficult political environment in the last few years, the Malaysian monarchy has proven to be a steady voice of reason. The abrupt end of the PH rule in 2020 saw the Monarchy displaying astute judgement when it exercised extra-parliamentary prerogative to elect a new Prime Minister who was agreeable to all. Indeed, constancy does not mean non-negotiability. Malaysia’s terms of reference are pliable. An important caveat is that actors can recalibrate the equilibrium and negotiate these terms of reference so long as the intention is not to revoke such terms of reference in its entirety.

Another component of the Contested Leviathan Framework is the presence of autonomous communities. These communities come with mutually exclusive ethnic institutions and interests that continually exact contending demands on Malaysia’s terms of reference. These institutions are products of British colonial rule. They are products of unintended consequences of the colonial administration’s short-term rational economic policies. British preservation of Malay de jure power contributed to the build-up of Malay-based institutions and political expression. Britain’s less-than-full retrenchment of Malay political dominance gave rise to increased Malay administrative, political and economic capacities that saw the production of Malay-based institutions. The early twentieth century for instance saw the production of institutions that reinforced Malay de jure power. These include the establishment of the Durbar of Rulers, the introduction of the Malay reservation enactment act, the setting up of the Malay College and the Sultan Idris Training college to train would-be Malay administrators and intelligentsia, the establishment of the Malay Administrative Service, the introduction of a special quota system to allow more Malay participation in the civil service, just to name a few. These are capacity building measures. And they led to the growth of Malay-based and Islamic political organisations. The emergence of the Kaum muda and its debates with Kaum Tua on Islam’s proper role in governance, the growth of Malay left organisations and the founding of various Malay organisations, first in Singapore and then to other parts of the Malay States, all contributed to the growth of Malay nationalism (Noh, 2014). As the preceeding chapters have demonstrated these Malay-based institutions became accentuated, entrenched and expanded over a period of time, afforded, of course, by British colonial policies. At the point of independence, these institutions contributed to the preservation of Malaya’s terms of reference – Malay rights, Islam and monarchy.

The exclusive nature of Malay institutions was evenly matched by the emergence of non-Malay exclusive institutions, particularly involving Malaya’s second largest community, the Chinese. The colonial administration facilitated movement Chinese labour in the nineteenth century driven by the need for labour and capital to grow a frontier economy. A confluence of events in the middle of the nineteenth century that facilitated the movement of Chinese capital and labour. The growth of the Straits Settlements – particularly Singapore and Penang – that saw increased presence of organised Chinese labour and capital, the discovery of large tin deposits in the Malay States, the introduction of Britain’s Peel Reform Act in 1942 that reduced tariffs on imported tin ores, the end of Sino-British opium war and the consequent freeing of Chinese ports that allowed large migration of Chinese, all facilitated the growth of organised Chinese capital and labour into the Malay States. British encouragement of Chinese labour and capital came in many forms. The incorporation of Chinese business interests into state legislative structures, the establishment of Chinese protectorate offices, the employment of liberal immigration policies that facilitated Chinese labour, the provisions of tax incentives that saw Chinese monopoly of tax farming and mining businesses are just a few examples. Such incorporation of Chinese interests in the political economy of the Malay States set off a path-dependent process that would see the consolidation of Chinese economic, political and social presence in the Malay States. The increasing returns from the incorporation of Chinese capital and labour is such that even when British policies became less favourable to Chinese businesses in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, the returns from Chinese labour and capital made it costly, even impossible, for the British to completely unwind Chinese economic and increasingly political role in Malaya’s political economy. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, amid a slowing global economy and greater European investment interest in Malaya’s tin and rubber industries, the colonial administration tried to halt or reverse some of its earlier policies that favoured Chinese capital and labour. This proved difficult, even impossible. The increasing returns from Chinese labour and capital meant that unwinding immigration policies would come at significant economic cost to the colonial economy. Such difficulty saw the colonial administration accommodating new forms of Chinese political affiliations powered by strong Chinese transnational ties and organisations. Chinese transnationalism started with the setting up of the Manchu Consul in the late nineteenth century that led to the intensification of Chinese transnational links which took on a variety of forms and organisations. The coming years would see the creation of dense Chinese transnational organisations, in the form of political movements, schools, reading rooms and labour organisations. Chinese transnationalism evolved into a Malayan nationalism probably in the late 1940s and almost certainly after the 1950s. But in aggregate, British tolerance for Chinese transnational linkages contributed to the creation of an autonomous Chinese community that became increasingly politicised with exclusive sets of interests and institutions (Noh, 2022).

Indeed, British short-term, rational economic objectives bore long-term unintended consequences. It led to the presence and consolidation of two large autonomous communities that – in the years to come – would see them competing for access to political, economic and social resources and searching for mutually compatible institutional arrangement. British de facto rule without retrenching Malay de jure rule and its less-than-full incorporation of Chinese political, economic and social life saw two communities with exclusive sets of interests and institutions. The Contested Leviathan Framework captures the dynamics of such competing and mutually exclusive institutions and interests. The framework captures the extent to which these institutions negotiate the complexities of Malaysia’s political economy. Ultimately, the framework demonstrates the need for contending parties to make compromises, that is, striking an equilibrium while keeping into account Malaysia’s terms of reference. Striking such equilibrium requires deftness. It is a difficult act. But the UMNO-MCA-MIC partnership at the point of Malaya’s independence somewhat mirrored Lijphart’s characteristics of power sharing such as the ability of elites to accommodate divergent interests, their attempts to transcend cleavages and make for a common effort, their commitment to maintain a system and improve cohesion and stability and most importantly, elites’ awareness of the perils of political fragmentation. Indeed, this consociational character continues to be a marked feature of modern Malaysian politics.

How much of a guide is the Contested Leviathan Framework in helping us understand Malaysia’s political economy? How reliable and rigorous is the framework in making sense of the issues facing Malaysian politics? Put differently, can the framework capture succinctly the issues and the inner workings of Malaysia’s political economy? I have tested the framework against the many issues facing Malaysia in the first 12 years of the country’s independence. The framework has indeed provided a coherent story of the trajectory of the Malaysian political economy. With the help of the framework, we now know that the myriad of issues facing Malaysia between 1957 and 1969 should not be treated as standalone events; the issues are not isolated from one another. These major issues are highly correlated and they relate to a fundamental problem best explained by the Contested Leviathan Framework. The rancour and arguments on the national language act, the merger with Singapore and the bitter separation, the devaluation issue and the hartal that ensued, the spiteful arguments over the sentencing of the 11 men on death row, the unrelenting provocations and revenge that led to the bloody May 13 riot and the formation of the first unity government in the form of the Barisan Nasional requires an appreciation of Malaysia’s terms of references, the ominous presence of mutually exclusive interests and the ultimate effort at striking an agreeable equilibrium. Having said that, the May 1969 election and the riot that ensued should not be seen in isolation from the many issues facing Malaysia prior to the election. Indeed, the framework provides us with a blueprint from which to appraise the thicket of issues facing modern Malaysia.

Another question that needs asking is: has the character of Malaysia’s political economy changed since 1973 after the formation of a unity government in the form of the Barisan Nasional? The election results in the last few years suggest that the Contested Leviathan Framework is still a helpful tool to understand the logic of Malaysia’s political economy. Space does not allow a detailed account, but the 2008 and the 2013 general elections , the ground-breaking 2018 election, the 2022 general election and the most recent state elections in 2023 all show consistent narrative; Malaysia is still witnessing autonomous communities exacting and negotiating competing demands on the country’s terms of reference and searching for equilibrium. The 2008 and 2013 general elections – that witnessed a decided erosion of support for the Barisan Nasional – were fought mainly on ethnic and religious lines. The outcome of the 2008 elections for example seemed like a reenactment of the 1969 elections when the state of Penang, Selangor and Perak fell to the opposition coalition. In the elections, the Barisan Nasional lost two-thirds majority mainly on the back of non-Malays rejecting the “incumbent regime in favour of secular opposition parties”.² The 2013 general election underlined yet again, Malaysians long running battle with exclusive interests and contending demands on the state’s terms of reference. The election also saw Malaysians voting along ethnic lines that prompted then Prime Minister Najib Razak to blame his party’s huge loss to a wave of “Chinese Tsunami”. Najib’s remarks created an uproar. But closer scrutiny of the results shows that Chinese voters were indeed significant vote banks for then opposition coalition, Pakatan Rakyat. In the election, nearly 97 percent of state seats with majority Chinese voters went to the opposition. Also, from the 31 parliamentary seats that had more 50 percent Chinese majority voters, the opposition coalition, the Pakatan Rakyat, swept all 31 seats. Within the Pakatan Rakyat coalition, the DAP was the biggest winner. The party contested in 22 parliamentary seats, all Chinese majority seats, and won all 22 seats. In fact on its website, the DAP acknowledged that Chinese voters overwhelmingly supported the party.³ Indeed, to put things into perspective, the 2013 election subscribed to the Contested Leviathan Framework. The results yielded stark Malay/non-Malay political dichotomy that saw ethnic-based political parties appealing to their vote banks by exacting contrasting demands on the country’ terms of reference. The election saw two big winners, UMNO and the DAP. While the DAP clinched seats in majority Chinese constituencies, the UMNO won big in majority Malay constituencies. The years after the 2013 elections saw a ratcheting of demands and intense contest on Malaysia’s terms of reference. The post-2013 election also gave the Pakatan Rakyat, a taste of the difficulty of managing contrasting demands. Months after the election two of Pakatan Rakyat’s largest ethnic parties – the DAP and PAS – started to make contending demands on Malaysia’s terms of reference, under pressure to appease their voting constituents and fulfil election promises. The PAS and the DAP indulged in acrimonious contest over issues of Islam, the implementation of the Islamic shariah and the need to keep to a secular Malaysia. The heated debate and incompatible demands eventually led to the PAS leaving the Pakatan Rakyat.⁴ In hindsight, the PAS-DAP partnership and the eventual split were not unlike the breakdown of the AMCJA-PUTERA and the MCP-MNP. In all of the cases, parties made extreme and contrasting demands on the country’s terms of reference that eventually made the partnership untenable. The 2018 elections and what comes after it demonstrate yet again of what could go wrong when extreme demands on Malaysia’s term of reference were to go unchecked. The 2018 election saw the Pakatan Harapan coalition led by the PKR, the DAP, BERSATU and Amanah, sweeping into power and promising institutional reforms. Many heralded Malaysia’s first electoral turnover as the beginning of new era calling it Malaysia Baru or “New Malaysia.” They were hoping that the new government would be a game changer, a break from the past. It was not to be. The years after the regime change of 2018 turned out to be one of the most tumultuous in Malaysian politics. The Pakatan Harapan coalition lasted for only 22 months, weighed down by a series of issues that is best understood using the Contested Leviathan Framework. Identity politics reared its ugly head months after the new government was installed. The months that ensued saw political parties riding on ethnically related issues to impress their exclusive vote banks that touched almost always on Malaysia’s terms of reference.⁵ There was the case of a riot involving a Hindu temple that saw ministers taking sides. There was the issue of the Jawi script (Malay alphabets that are improvisions of the Arabic alphabets) being introduced in school textbook that split opinions among leaders in the new government. There was the pressure from Chinese interest groups for the state to preserve, recognize and fund Chinese independent schools that provoked strong reactions within the PH coalition and among opposition parties. There was the case of an Islamic preacher accused of making scathing ethnically laced remarks that further broke the ranks within the PH. There were the issues involving the signing of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD) and the depositing of the accession to the Rome Statute of International Criminal Court that threatened Malay royal immunity and Malay privileges. There was the organising of the Malay dignity congress (organised by Malay leaders) and an anti-Jawi conference (organised by Chinese leaders) that further cracked the PH coalition.⁶ PH government’s 22 months in power testified yet again the extent to which extreme and contrasting demands from exclusive interests on Malaysia’s terms of reference can exact on a fragile Leviathan such as Malaysia. The political flux between 2018 and 2022 saw the country having an unprecedented three prime ministers. The 2022 general election could not have come at a worst time. Malaysians were still reeling from many issues. The political instability and the frustration from having three prime ministers in four years, the Covid-19 pandemic that was wreaking havoc on the economy, the mounting fiscal debt made worst by the pandemic, the haunting experience of Malaysia’s worst flood and the incessant political wrangling saw a highly disillusioned and frustrated voting public. The debates during the 2022 elections was a classic reproduction of the contested leviathan seen in the 1959, 1964 and 1969 elections. Political parties played on voters’ primal sentiment – identity politics. The election saw three huge coalitions, the Pakatan Harapan (PH) of which the DAP and PKR are dominant parties, the Barisan Nasional (BN) of which the UMNO remained a major party and a new coalition the Perikatan Nasional (PN) made up mainly of two dominant parties, the PAS and Bersatu, a Malay party which was part of the PH coalition in 2018. The election results showed a deeply polarised country. The PN surprisingly swept control control of Malay majority states in the North and east coast states in the peninsula while the PH secured the west coast and urban states of Penang, Selangor and Negeri Sembilan – states with sizeable non-Malay voters [Marzuki Mohamad and Ibrahim Suffian (2023). Malaysia’s 15th General Election: Ethnicity Remains the Key Factor in Voter Preferences]. The DAP (PH) and PAS (PN) won the highest number of seats, the PAS winning 43 seats and the DAP securing 40 seats. In 47 non-Malay majority constituencies, the PH won all the seats with the DAP securing the majority of the seats. In 86 Malay majority seats, the Perikatan Nasional (PN) won 67 seats with the lion’s share won by the PAS [Marzuki Mohamad and Ibrahim Suffian (2023). Malaysia’s 15th General Election: Ethnicity Remains the Key Factor in Voter Preferences]. The bruising election saw none of the coalition able to secure a simple majority to form the government. The PH’s 82 seats and PN’s 74 seats were short of the 112 seats needed to form the next administration. The election would see an unexpected twist. The BN - the party that was ousted in 2018 – turned kingmaker after winning 30 seats which saw it being courted by both PN and PH to form the next government. On the advice of the Yang DiPertuan Agong, the King, the BN decided to join hands with PH to form a unity government. What is even more interesting is that for the first time in Malaysia’s modern political history, sworn enemies – the UMNO and the DAP – would now be working together in the new administration. It is an unthinkable union, one that confounded many pundits of Malaysian politics. History however is the best teacher. The union between the BN and the DAP in 2022 is not unlike in the year 1973 when sworn enemies – in the likes of the PPP, Gerakan and the PMIP – decided to join hands with UMNO’s dominated Alliance Party to form the Barisan Nasional.

At the time of finishing this book, Malaysia just had six state elections, the first time that the UMNO and the DAP worked together under the Unity government. Fresh from the 2022 election, the state elections returned similar voting patterns. It is a worrying trend. The results show a sharply divided house. The big winner in the state elections is the Perikatan Nasional (PN). The coalition took 146 seats from the 245 state seats contested, consolidating their presence in Malaysian politics. The PAS contributed the biggest to PN’s big win. The party fared well in Malay-majority northern and east coast states of Kedah, Kelantan and Trengganu. The PN coalition also made inroads in the state of Selangor in Malay-majority areas. At the other end of the pole, Chinese voted overwhelmingly for the PH led coalition, just like in the last 3 general elections. In the six state elections, almost 96 percent of Chinese voted for the PH-led coalition. Unsurprisingly the PH scored big wins in Penang with the DAP taking the lion’s share of the seats contested. The DAP won 45 out of the 46 seats it contested, all in majority non-Malay or Chinese constituencies. The recent state elections show yet again the presence and persistence of exclusive interests. The elections show a leviathan that is still grappling with striking the right equilibrium. Indeed, this post-reformasi period – and I define this period as starting from the 2008 – prove that the Contested Leviathan Framework remains a good guide to understand the character of Malaysia’s political economy.

It remains to be seen whether, in the coming years, the Anwar Ibrahim-led unity government will be able to reach an amicable solution that successfully shuts out exclusive interests’ contrasting demands. My view is that Malaysia’s latest unity government will not be the country’s last. But, if there is any consolation, the flux in the Malaysian political economy could still be read by the Contested Leviathan Framework. I am however optimistic of the trajectory of Malaysia’s political economy. I say this because the events in 1955, 1973 and 2022 demonstrate the country’s propensity and ability to negotiate contending interests. Consociationalism – and I mean the terms in all its variations – will continue to be Malaysia’s trusted policy tool in negotiating contending interests and searching for new equilibrium. On the eve of British rule in Malaya, the Duke of Gloucester, representing the Queen, gave his vote of confidence that “Malaya will respond worthily to the challenging tasks of independence” and “will continue to show the world the example of moderation and goodwill between all races that has been so marked a feature of her history”.⁷ The Malaysian state is still holding up as a state that sees logic in sharing power. Malaysia’s ability at moderation and goodwill will continue to be tested as it negotiates nation-building while operating in a highly contested Leviathan. All said, I believe Malaysia can draw strength from its own history and will continue to come up with novel ways at negotiating contending demands as it navigates new political, social and economic landscapes.

Notes

Aljuneid (2019).

Pepinsky (2009, p. 88).

Noh (2014a, p. 267).

Noh (2014b).

Noh and Yashaiya (2023).

Noh and Yashaiya (2023).

Miller (1965).

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Index

Abdullah Dahan 67, 73, 97–98

Abdul Razak Hussain 148, 150

AEBUS (Anti-Enemy Backing-Up Society) 107, 115

Aliens Ordinance see AO

alliance government 172, 175–76, 179, 186

alliance party 136, 140, 160–62, 168–69, 174–75, 179, 184–85, 187, 189, 191, 195, 201–2

AMCJA 117, 132–34, 155

AMCJA-PUTERA 133–35, 138–40, 148–49, 152, 213

AMCJA-PUTERA coalition 133

Andersen Treaty 23–24

Angkatan Pemuda Insaf 116, 118

Anglo-Dutch Treaty 23–24, 38

Anti-Enemy Backing Society Malayan Labourers Anti-Japanese Corps 115

Anti-Enemy Backing-Up Society see AEBUS

Anti-Enemy National Salvation Society Singapore Chinese National Salvation 115

AO (Aliens Ordinance) 93, 104

API 116, 118–20

Banishment Ordinance 107, 136

Bank of China in Singapore 186

Barisan Nasional 1–2, 202, 212, 214–15

Barisan Sosialis 163, 165

BMA (British Military Administration) 126, 154–55

Britain 22–24, 26–27, 32, 34–35, 38, 40, 49, 52, 55, 121–22, 128, 163, 165

Britain’s Foreign Jurisdiction Act 127

Britain’s Peel Reform Act 36, 210

British administration 25–26, 30, 36–37, 46, 48–52, 54, 61–62, 66–67, 69–70, 72–73, 105–6, 121, 128, 137, 147–48, 156–57

British Colonial Administration 3, 85, 218–19

British colonial policies 3, 13–14, 49–50, 52, 94–95, 210, 223

British government 23, 48, 52, 55, 98–99, 105, 109, 128–30, 133, 149–50, 153–54

British Intervention in Malaya 224

British intervention in Perak 34, 50

British Military Administration (BMA) 126, 154–55

British Resident Campbell 62

British Resident Hugh Low 58

British Residential System 45–87, 89–90

British Resident in Negeri Sembilan 60

British Resident in Selangor 58

Burhanuddin Helmy 116, 118

Burney Treaty 23–25, 39

CCC 77–78, 105, 121, 136–37, 144, 155

CCP 106, 108, 121, 126

Chiang Kai Shek 121, 144

China Communist Party 135

China Distress Relief Fund 153

China’s comintern agents 91

China’s Department of Agriculture 77

China’s education syllabus 10

Chinese, repatriate 76

Chinese Advisory Committee 143

Chinese Affairs 57–58, 105, 112, 115, 122

Chinese Chamber of Commerce see CCC

Chinese Communist Party see CCP

Chinese headmen 56, 83

Chinese Kapitans 41, 83

Chinese Protectorate Office 10, 57, 83, 93, 210

Chinese secret societies 13, 28–31, 33–35, 41, 45–46, 57–58, 60, 83, 123, 219, 223

Chinese squatter problems and restore 136

Chinese squatter settlements 124, 138, 154

Chinese tax farms 31, 59

Chinese tin manufacturers 40

Chinese transnational 10, 78, 80, 93, 104–6, 136, 211

Chinese transnational activities 76, 104–5, 120

Chinese transnationalism 7, 73, 75–76, 80, 104, 106, 211, 227

Chinese transnational links 75, 108, 131

Chinese transnational politics 7, 10, 14, 49, 73, 76, 80, 91, 94, 104–5, 108–9, 126, 130–31

Chinese transnational politics in Malaya 73

Chinese transnational ties 7, 76–77, 104

Chinese triad societies 123

Ch’ing China 78

Ch’ing government 86

citizens, federal 143

citizenship 7, 74, 94, 109, 131, 133–34, 162, 165–66, 198, 221

civil disobedience 30, 178–79

civil service 6, 46, 67, 71–73, 82, 86, 95, 97–98, 130, 179, 210

elite Malayan 72, 98

civil service appointments 94, 97, 145

CLC 132, 136, 138–40, 147–49, 152

Coalition Government in Malaysia 223

coalition government in Selangor and Perak 191

Coalition Politics 223

Cochin China 27, 40

colonial administration 5–6, 10, 13–14, 50–53, 58–63, 65–67, 70–72, 75–76, 79–80, 92, 94–95, 101–2, 104–5, 108–9, 127–28, 136–38, 148, 209–11

Colonial Office 45, 49–52, 55–56, 59, 62, 81–83, 86, 109, 112, 125, 128, 130, 133–34, 154–55, 217–18

Colonial Office’s policies 50

Colonial Office’s Secretary of State 52

communism 106, 119, 164–65

early 106

Communism in Malaya 106

Communist and Chinese 126

communist movement in Malaya 106

Conference of Rulers 64–67, 199, 208

congress 101

consociational arrangement 15, 117, 132, 134, 136, 138, 142, 148–49, 152, 170, 208

consociationalism 8, 11, 117, 132, 135–36, 147, 151, 202, 215, 225

consociational logic 116–58

contested Leviathan 4, 7–8, 12, 163, 170, 173, 176, 179, 196–97, 202, 208, 214, 216

contested Leviathan framework 4, 6–9, 11–12, 14–15, 162, 208–9, 211–13, 215

Council for Joint Action in Singapore on December 155

CWC (Central Working Committee) 137

DAP (Democratic Action Party) 1, 173–75, 181–87, 189, 191, 196–97, 199, 202, 206, 213–15

death row 183–84, 195, 204, 212

democracy 119, 172, 190, 205, 217, 219, 221–22, 224, 226–27

Democratic Action Party see DAP

East India Company 22–24, 26, 38, 50, 81

East Malaysia 12, 195

economy 36, 58, 75–76, 152, 159, 198, 200, 207, 214, 217–18, 221

education 6, 67, 69–73, 77, 85, 94, 96–99, 101, 103, 118, 139

education policy 69

elections 1, 142–43, 147, 149–51, 157–58, 160–62, 164, 166–70, 172–74, 183–87, 189–95, 209, 212–15

FCO (Foreign and Commonwealth Office) 186, 191–92, 194, 204–5

federal constitution 6, 109, 130, 160–61, 198, 208

Federal Council 65–67, 69, 73, 84–85, 97–98, 136, 139, 146, 150, 157

Federal Council Proceedings 85–86, 98, 111

Federal election 117, 144, 147–48, 150

Federated Malay States see FMS

federation 63, 65, 67, 84, 141, 145–47, 152, 155, 157, 166, 172, 175

Federation Agreement 63, 130, 133, 147–48, 157

FELDA (Federal Land Development Authority) 69

feudal arrangement 20–21, 54, 207

feudal practices 18, 20–21

feudal system 20–21

FMS (Federated Malay States) 51, 57, 59, 63–70, 72–73, 83–85, 90, 98, 103, 127, 220, 224–25, 227

Foreign and Commonwealth Office see FCO

General Gerald Templer 150

Gent, Edward 112, 127, 130, 154

Gerakan 180–87, 189, 191, 196–97, 201, 205, 215

Gerakan Angkatan Muda (GERAM) 118

Gerakan Party 199

GERAM (Gerakan Angkatan Muda) 118

Ghee Hin 29–30, 33–34, 42, 45–46, 56

Governing Tamil Migration to Malaya 218

Governor 32, 39–40, 51–52, 55–56, 60, 62–63, 79, 81, 84–85, 127, 137

hartal 15, 177–80, 183–84, 195, 204, 212

hartal in Kuala Lumpur 178

High Commissioner 21, 25, 62–63, 65, 72, 84–86, 127, 140, 150, 157

historical institutionalism 8–9

immigration policies 92–93, 211

Immigration Restriction Ordinance see IRO

IMP (Independence of Malaya Party) 132, 140–44, 148, 151, 156–57, 160–61

Independence of Malaya Party see IMP

institutional analysis 3, 11, 224

institutional change 223–24

institutional reforms 213

institutions 3–12, 14, 55, 57, 63–64, 67, 69, 73, 103, 109–10, 131, 199–200, 209–11, 220, 221, 224

International Rubber Regulation Agreement (IRRA) 92

International Tin Agreements 92

IRO (Immigration Restriction Ordinance) 92–93, 104

IRRA (International Rubber Regulation Agreement) 92

Islam 1, 4–6, 96, 103, 152, 162–63, 171, 208–10, 213, 217, 224

Islam and monarchy 6, 110, 159, 164, 198, 208, 210

Japanese administration 154

Japanese occupation 14, 71, 117–18, 120–22, 126, 154

Johor 5, 22–23, 25–26, 30, 37–39, 46, 50–52, 123, 126, 128–30, 132, 180–82, 185

Johore Pardons Board 182

J W Birch 54

Kampong Bahru 99, 192–93

Kapitan 30, 41, 60

Kapitan Cina 60, 83

Kesatuan Melayu Singapura see KMS

KMM 70–71, 85, 95, 98–100, 103, 116–17, 119–20

KMS (Kesatuan Melayu Singapura) 95, 99–100

KMT, Kuomintang 14, 78–79, 91, 104–6, 121–25, 128, 136, 139, 154–56, 225

kongsis 7, 28–31, 33, 41, 108

Kuomintang Movement in British Malaya 228

Labour Party 160–61, 177–79, 182, 184–85, 187–88, 192–95, 202

land 18–20, 24, 37–38, 56, 58, 67–69, 73, 85, 102, 124, 223

land and Chinese squatter settlements 124

languages 86, 108, 161, 175–77, 184, 190, 199

laws 5–6, 9–10, 21, 95, 104, 109, 124, 198, 207–8, 220, 223

equal citizenship 161

Lee Kuan Yew 78, 136, 139, 142, 148–50, 156, 165–73, 203, 222

legislative body 5, 18

Leong Yew Koh 136, 155–56

Lijphart 8, 16, 152, 158, 222

List of MCP-led Front Organisation 115

loans 21, 31, 33, 58, 60, 63

Long Jaafar 33

Lukut 27–28, 31

MacDonald, Malcolm 112, 138–40, 157

Mahathir 196, 205

Malacca 19, 21–25, 27–29, 31, 35, 37–38, 40–43, 118, 132–33, 145–46, 152, 223, 225

Malay Administrative Service 6, 72, 208, 210

Malay administrators 6, 72, 210

Malayan Chinese Association see MCA

Malayan citizenship 108, 139, 145

grant Chinese 109, 127

Malayan Civil Service see MCS

Malayan Communist Party see MCP

Malayan Council for Joint Action 155

Malayan Democratic Union, MDU 132, 155

Malay and Islam 4–5, 64

Malayan Emergency 137, 155

Malayan Federal Constitution 159

Malayan General Labour Union 107

Malayan Indian Congress see MIC

Malayan Spring 14, 116, 118–19, 121–23, 125, 131, 151

Malayan Tin Industry 227

Malayan Union 6–7, 10, 14, 117–18, 120, 125, 127–31, 135, 146, 149, 151, 154–55, 202

Malayan Union and Malay Nationalism 127

Malayan Union Citizenship 130, 222

Malay College 5, 70–72, 86, 97–98, 210

Malay customs and Islam 5

Malay education 10, 67, 70–71, 97, 99, 101

Malay feudal arrangements 21, 37, 54–55, 80, 127

Malay Land Reservation Enactment 10, 68, 208

Malay land reservations 95, 128

Malay language policy 184–85, 202

Malay leftist organisations 117, 120–21

Malay lefts 117, 119–20, 125

Malay monarchy 2, 5–6, 152, 172, 226

Malay nationalism 10, 13–14, 67, 69, 73, 94–95, 99, 101, 103, 117, 125, 127, 208, 210, 224–26

Malay nationalist movements 5, 71, 98

Malay Nationalist Party see MNP

Malay organisations 10, 94–95, 99–101, 210

Malay Peninsula 1, 5, 19–24, 40, 43, 58, 101, 121, 184, 208, 226

Malay privileges 6, 103, 134, 140, 151, 161, 163, 165, 171, 179, 184

Malay Probationer Scheme (MPS) 72

Malay publications 101–3, 111

Malaysia and Singapore 15, 163, 172–73, 218, 222

Malaysia and Singapore citizens 166

Malaysia and Singapore leaders 15, 170, 172

Malaysia Baru 213

Malaysian Malaysia 171–74, 185, 189–90, 205

Malaysian Registrar of Societies 173

Malaysian Solidarity Convention (MSC) 171

Malaysia-Singapore relationship 171

Malaysia’s New Economic Policy 226

Malay States 4–5, 12–13, 17–21, 23–32, 34–36, 40, 45–53, 55–60, 62–65, 67–69, 76–78, 82–83, 99, 101–2, 109–10, 128, 207–8, 210, 217–18, 227–28

Malay Sultans 2, 5–6, 53, 61, 66–67, 97, 129, 155, 162, 171, 198

Al-Manar 96, 111

Manchu 75–78

Manchu government 77, 79

Mantri of Larut 33–34

MARA 196, 200

MCA (Malayan Chinese Association) 78, 136–44, 147–51, 156, 167–70, 175, 181, 183–86, 188, 190, 195, 197, 225

MCA leaders 138, 144, 148–50, 156, 168, 175

MCA’s CWC 137, 142

MCP (Malayan Communist Party) 14, 91, 104, 106–8, 116, 119–28, 132, 135–36, 138, 155–56, 160, 165, 184

MCP and Chinese Secret societies 123

MCP-led Front Organisation 115

MCP members 108, 125, 154–55

MCP-MNP alliances 140, 152

MCP’s Chinese outlook 120

MCS (Malayan Civil Service) 72–73, 86, 98, 221

MIC (Malayan Indian Congress) 140, 147–48, 150, 195, 197

MNP (Malay Nationalist Party) 116, 118–20, 135, 138, 153, 160

MPAJA 121–24, 126, 153–54

MPS (Malay Probationer Scheme) 72

MSC (Malaysian Solidarity Convention) 171

Muhammad, Ishak 117–18

Musa Hitam 196

Naning War 24, 50

Nanyang Chinese Nationalism 227

Nanyang Communist Party 91, 106

National Consultative Council see NCC

national language 133–34, 175–76, 194, 198

National Language Action Front 176

National Operations Council see NOC

NCC (National Consultative Council) 196–97, 202

NEP (New Economic Policy) 199–202, 218

New Economic Policy see NEP

new villages 17, 86, 138, 148, 150

NOC (National Operations Council) 195–97

OCAJA (Overseas Chinese Anti-Japanese Army) 121–22, 124

Onn Jaafar 70, 95, 98, 130, 132, 139–44, 148, 156, 158, 160–62

Overseas Chinese Anti-Japanese Army (OCAJA) 121–22, 124

Pahang 17, 20, 23, 46, 50, 57, 63–64, 83–84, 118, 121, 124, 127, 132

Pahang Malay Association 98–99

Pakatan Harapan, PH 1–2, 209, 213–15

Pakatan Rakyat 212–13

Pangkor Treaty 10, 13, 30, 34, 36–37, 45–87, 89–90, 208

pan-Malayan Islamic Party see PMIP

PAP (People’s Action Party) 163, 167–74, 184–85, 203, 209

Parti Islam Se-Malaysia 119, 160

Parti Negara 144, 157, 160–61

Parti Rakyat 160, 184, 186, 197

partition 132, 144, 146, 148, 151–52

Party Pesaka 184

path dependence 3, 7, 9, 11, 56, 108, 173, 190, 207–8, 218, 224

Peel Reform Act 27, 210

Pemuda Tanah Ayer see PETA

Penang and Malacca 27, 41–42, 77, 99, 132, 141, 145–46, 152

Penang and Selangor 184

Penang and Singapore 21, 23, 30, 33, 58, 81, 89–90, 132, 145, 152

Penang Chamber of Commerce 145–46

People’s Action Party see PAP

People’s constitution 133–35, 152, 209

People’s Progressive Party see PPP

Perak 19–20, 23–24, 27–28, 30–31, 33–34, 36, 38–39, 45–47, 50–51, 53–56, 58–61, 63–67, 70–71, 81–84, 118–19, 123–25, 160–62, 181–82, 184–86, 189–91

Perak and Selangor 20, 24, 27–28, 30, 55–56, 58, 161

Perak Malay Association 99

Perikatan Nasional 1, 214–15

PERKIM 119

Pernas and State Economic Development Corporations 200

Persatuan Melayu Johor 130

Persatuan Melayu Perak 99

The Persatuan Melayu Selangor 99, 225

PETA (Pemuda Tanah Ayer) 117–20

PMIP (pan-Malayan Islamic Party) 118–19, 160, 162, 165, 169, 179, 184–87, 189, 191, 196–97, 201, 204

power-sharing arrangement 4, 138, 144, 147–48, 151–52, 159

right 148

PPP (People’s Progressive Party) 160–62, 169, 171, 175, 181, 183–87, 189, 191, 197, 199, 201

Protected Malay States 83, 225

PUTERA 132–34

Rahim Kajai 102–3

republic 79, 100, 103, 119, 122

Rice Land Enactment 69

RIDA (Rural and Industrial Development Agency) 69, 139

riot 29–30, 165, 170, 172–73, 177–80, 183, 191, 193–97, 199, 202, 209, 212–13

ROS 174

Rural and Industrial Development Agency (RIDA) 69, 139

Sabah 11–12, 110, 165, 198, 201

Sabah Alliance 201

Sarawak 11–12, 101, 110, 165, 184, 198, 201

Sarawak United People’s Party (SUPP) 171

Saudara 101–2, 112

SCBA (Straits Chinese Business Association) 137, 145–46

Secession Committee 146

Secretary for Chinese Affairs Enactment 57

Secretary for Chinese Affairs in Perak 58

Secretary of Chinese Affairs 105, 122

secret societies 7, 28–30, 33–34, 41–42, 45–46, 57, 83, 123–25, 178

Sedition Act 198–99

Seenivasagam 161, 179, 181, 191, 199

Selangor 10, 23–24, 26–28, 30–33, 36, 42, 46, 55–58, 60, 62–64, 83–84, 154, 160–62, 184–85, 189–91

Selangor Land Code 85

Singapore 15, 21–23, 25–27, 29–30, 32–36, 38, 40–43, 57–58, 76–78, 88–90, 99, 132–33, 141, 145–46, 152, 155, 163–74, 186, 210, 217–28

Singapore Alliance Party 167, 170

Singapore leaders 163–66, 170–72

Singapore Malay National Organisation 174

Singapore Malay Union 99

Singapore Overseas Chinese Anti-Japanese Mobilisation Society Resist-the-Enemy 115

Sin-Khehs 41

Sino-British opium war 27–28, 36, 207, 210

Sino-Japanese war in China 107

SITC (Sultan Idris Training College) 71, 97–99, 210

Socialist Front 160–62, 169, 180–81

state council 5, 55–56, 60–62, 65, 67, 84, 86

state council meetings 61

Straits administration 20, 22–23, 29, 39–40, 42, 45, 51, 81, 83, 157, 220

Straits-born Chinese 77

Straits Chinese 35, 79, 86, 128, 136–38, 145–47

Straits Chinese Business Association (SCBA) 137, 145–46

Straits Legislative Council and Federal Council 157

Straits Settlement Legislative Council 35, 146, 219

Straits Settlements 23–31, 34–36, 39–40, 43–45, 47, 49–52, 54–55, 57–58, 62–63, 76–79, 90, 99–100, 127, 145–46, 152

Straits Settlements of Singapore and Penang 23, 36

Sultan Abdullah 23, 51, 54

Sultan Abdul Samad 31, 42

Sultan Hussain 22, 38

Sultan Ibrahim 130

Sultan Idris 65–67, 85

Sultan Idris Training College see SITC

Sultan Iskandar 67

Sultan of Johor 38, 181–82

Sultan of Johore 181–82

Sultan of Johore and Perak 181

Sultan of Kedah 22, 120, 129, 154

Sultan of Perak 65–66, 84, 181, 191

Sultan of Selangor 31–32, 62, 129, 154

Sultan of Singapore 38

Sungei Ujong 17, 19, 27–28, 31, 38, 46, 48, 60, 83

Sun Yat Sen 79

SUPP (Sarawak United People’s Party) 171

Swettenham, Frank 25, 58, 63–64, 82, 84, 129

Tan Chee Koon 180–82, 184, 191, 199

Tan Cheng Lock 132–33, 137, 139, 141–43, 148, 156

Tan Cheng Lock Papers 156

tax farms 26, 59–60

Terengganu 17, 23–25, 39, 46, 50–51, 160–62, 184

terms of reference 4, 8, 159, 164–66, 169–70, 172–75, 177, 179, 183, 197–98, 202, 208, 212–13

Thuraisingham 141, 143, 148, 156

tin production 19–20, 27, 31, 36, 40, 92, 114

TOL (Temporary Occupation Licences) 124

transnationalism 73–75, 86, 106, 109, 225

T’ung Meng Hui 78–79

Tunku 165, 167–68, 176–77, 180–83, 186, 190, 194–96, 204

Tunku Abdul Rahman 165, 167–68, 176–77, 180–83, 186, 190, 194–96, 204

Tunku Dziauddin 32

UDP (United Democratic Party) 171, 175

UMCO (United Malayan Chinese Organisation) 184

UMNO (United Malay National Organisation) 1, 70, 117–18, 120, 130, 140–42, 147–51, 162, 167, 169–71, 176, 184, 186–89, 196–97, 213–15

UMNO Malaya 174

UMNO-MCA alliance 132, 142, 144, 147–52

UMNO-MCA state liaison committees 149

UMNO Singapore 174

UMS (Unfederated Malay States) 127, 227

Unfederated Malay States (UMS) 127, 227

union 4, 7, 51, 107, 118, 127–30, 152, 165, 215

United Democratic Party (UDP) 171, 175

United Malayan Chinese Organisation (UMCO) 184

United Malay National Organisation see UMNO

unity government 1, 8, 15, 147, 201–2, 212, 215

Utusan Melayu 102–3, 112, 176, 197

Whampoa 76–77, 86

Windstedt 38, 67, 71, 80, 83–85, 227

Workers Party 163

Yang di-Pertuan Agong 176, 181, 198

Yong Pung How 143, 156