Interlocking issues

Some musings of mine on the issue of Interlok ran in The Nut Graph today. I have reproduced it here in full:

 

The debate about the novel Interlok by Malaysian national laureate Abdullah Hussein continues to rage, but among a select few. The Malaysian Indian Congress (MIC) wants the book to be withdrawn from the Form Five syllabus for Malay literature on the grounds that the novel contains “offensive” words and depictions of Indian Malaysians. The MIC claims that the book will offend the entire Indian Hindu community, who, according to them, no longer practise the caste system.

Coming from the MIC, this smacks a little too much of hypocrisy, because I know of Indian Malaysians who still have to battle with issues of caste within their communities and families. The issue of caste has also come under scrutiny for its implications on the internal politics of the MIC. And it’s hypocritical because the MIC itself is part of a power structure that continues to practise and propagate race-based discrimination.

Interlok may or may not be right in its depiction of the Indian Malaysian community, which is taken for granted to be monolithic when it is not. But the MIC’s claim that the book highlights issues that are no longer relevant for the Indian Malaysian community is a blatant lie. It’s also a blatant form of politicking in order to win back the Indian Malaysian vote. By fighting for the rights of Indian Malaysians through this issue, the MIC is no doubt hoping that the community will forget its complicity in promoting race politics.

Selective arguments

There’s also hypocrisy from those who want the book to remain in the syllabus. These are people I follow on Twitter, traditional media columnists, as well as other writers and scholars quoted in media coverage of the issue. They claim that to censor or remove words from a published work of literature is to insult the author’s integrity. On one hand, I agree with this, because as a writer myself, I believe that the craft of writing must be respected.

More importantly, however, books, including works of creative expression, should be judged on their merits. Speculations as to the author’s intentions should not tilt the scale either way. Further to this point is the argument for free speech: something should not be censored, banned, or restricted simply because it offends some people’s sensitivities.

What would these same people who argue for the author’s integrity say about the tendency of the ruling coalition to ban any book that challenges its authority? 1FunnyMalaysia, perhaps?

Education system the problem

My greater concern is how a national education system that is fundamentally structured to be racist can attempt to teach a text as problematic as Interlok.

This book, because of its content, is the kind of book that should help further, deepen, and intensify national discourse on race relations. It is a book that should be handled with maturity and critical yet intelligent interrogation. Precisely because it offends some people, it should be deconstructed and taught with sensitivity.

But how are we going to do this through a nationally constructed pedagogy that promotes half-truths and prejudiced views, which alters history, neglects critical thinking, and undervalues the role of the teacher and student? How can we fill our schools with racist, defeated teachers, hand them a racially problematic text, and expect these very same people to teach it with any degree of responsibility, compassion, or intelligence?

Scholastic hypocrisy

Some scholars argue that Interlok depicts the “social reality” of the time in which it was set, and thus should be studied as a realistic portrayal of Malaysian society during that period of time. The Malaysian Institute of Historical and Patriotism Studies says that Interlok is a “suitable novel for use of as a textbook for the literature component of the Bahasa Malaysia subject in Form Five because it is based on historical facts”. The National Writers Association (Pena) has come out strongly against the removal of the book. A memorandum has also been signed by several groups, including the Malay Consultation Council and Ikatan Persuratan Melayu.

Will these scholars say the same about Anthony Burgess’s The Malayan Trilogy, which is arguably one of the best novels about colonial-era Malaya? Burgess is equally scathing of all races, including the British. Will any Malay Malaysian politician champion for Trilogy to be taught in schools the way some of them are for Interlok?

In fact, as Sharon Bakar has pointed out, The Malayan Trilogy is not only not taught in our schools, it has also at one time or another been banned or restricted, presumably because it takes the mickey out of not just the Indians or the Chinese, but the Malays as well. I would like to hear scholars, politicians and writers come out in defence of this book for English Literature classes in Malaysia. I think all we would hear are crickets.

We uphold free speech only when it’s convenient, and argue for the integrity of artists and the free circulation of art only when it suits us. But let us not be gullible enough to assume that if Interlok is allowed to be taught in schools nationwide, we’ve won a small part of the battle. It might only be dispiriting confirmation that the national discourse favours the sensitivities and sensibilities of one particular group or race over another.

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On the kicap-ness of being

Let us all take a moment to acknowledge our Prime Minister Najib Razak’s treatise on not calling his MIC friends “kicap”.

I found his comments interesting for many reasons, not least for the revelation that Najib is not as smart as I had assumed. For all his flaws, I thought the man had some semblance of intelligence, even if it mostly manifests itself as cunning and shrewdness. However, he seems to have fallen prey to that unfortunate malady that befalls all Malaysian Prime Ministers – foot-in-mouth horror. But as with every blundering politician’s remarks, there is always more to the utterances than what has been overtly stated.

Malaysians typically like to say, even as we acknowledge the realities of the inequalities played out in our daily lives brought about by race and ethnicity, that our jokes about race and ethnicity and skin colour are always just that – jokes. We tend to take refuge in the fact that we have a good sense of humour and have been capable – in the past, but lesser so now as people like to complain – of taking jabs directed at our skin colour/race/ethnicity or whatever without raising a hue and cry and ranting on about “appropriateness”. We pride ourselves on being aware but not foolishly invested in being rabidly politically-correct, like those childish Americans.

Malaysian social and private discourse has thus always been “coloured” (do forgive me) with inappropriate jokes about skin colour, race, and ethnicity. It’s something of a false truism in Malaysia to say that friends can utter these jokes around one another without anyone becoming offended because these jokes were uttered in good faith, in good intentions, and only with a desire to amuse. In fact, it can be said that any sort of negative reactions to these jokes are always-already pre-empted by the declarative statement that these jokes are not meant to offend. If it’s already understood (implicitly or obviously) that these jokes are not meant to offend, then how can anyone take offense? They can’t, not unless they want to be called killjoys or spoilsports or be termed as being “over-sensitive”. It’s a false truism because everyone is taking pains to assure the other that they’re not being offensive while at the same time acknowledging that someone might be taking offense.

As someone who grew up in 1980s Malaysia, I can comfortably say that we existed within a very contradictory framework where sensitivity both reigned supreme and was easily mocked. While the government and powers-that-be consistently reminded us not to bring up “sensitive topics” premised on race, ethnicity, and religion, private and non-official discourse was rife with these jokes. Even in college, Chinese guys would put their arms next to mine and comment on how much darker I was than them. I was meant to laugh – and did. Thanks to my robust Tamilan genes, I was also hairier than them, which they also pointed out with glee. I laughed, too. Weakly. At the time.

 

One of these is not like the other

Most of us Malaysians, I think, have similar stories. What’s interesting is that those who laugh loudest at these jokes, even when it’s being made at their expense, are the ones who remember it differently when recounting the jokes. There seems to be a slight disconnect between the need to laugh at the joke at the time when it is made and the desire to give meaning to it in retrospect. Certainly, in my own experience and from what I’ve learned in discussion with others, this laughter is never truly “pure”. There is always a sense of disturbance underlying it, a sense of rupture, if you will, that compels one to laugh even louder to mask that split. The person who always wants to remember the joke as being “non-offensive and in good fun” is the person who made the joke at another’s expense, or the person at whose expense the joke was made and who doesn’t want to acknowledge that it might have been slightly embarrassing, shameful, or painful at the time.

I am always somewhat suspicious of people who say they don’t mind being insulted because they often insult themselves and their “people”, too. What they don’t seem to acknowledge is the difference in power structures underlying social relations that, yes, colours each insult differently depending on who and where it’s coming from. If we lived in a Care Bears land where everyone was equal (the only form of difference being truly superficial – different pastel colours!), then yes, the “I don’t mind” refrains would seem authentic. As it is, it just seems to be an easy way out for most from thinking about issues that are potentially painful, problematic, and deeply unsettling. In the Lacanian sense, the Malaysian symbolic order rests on this belief that we’re all sensitive-but-not-easily-offended; as Zizek has said, “One should never underestimate the power of appearances. Sometimes, when we inadvertently disturb the appearance, the thing itself behind appearance also falls apart.”

The fiction, as it were, of Malaysians being a generally jovial and egalitarian society falls apart the moment someone refuses to laugh along with a racially-tinged joke, or points out the contradictions and problems behind it. Following Zizek’s conclusion till its end – the Emperor is now naked and we’ve all actually admitted to it.

This brings me back to Najib and his curious statement, which revealed its contradictions even as it tried to mask it. In Kedah, Najib says, it’s not uncommon for dark-skinned Malays to be teased with the term “tohyu”, which means “kicap” (dark soy sauce, in English). Within that cultural context, Najib explains, the term carries no derogatory connotations – presumably because Malay skin, even at its most tan, never approximates the colour of kicap. However, as Najib clarifies, he would never say the same thing to his Indian friends in MIC – presumably because Indian skin can approximate the colour of kicap. Therefore, that joke would be too literal, and no longer symbolic. If someone does actually look like the thing, then the point of the teasing insult is lost – it’s no longer teasing, it’s just an outright insult.

But isn’t that simply an admission that the term “kicap” has its roots in derogatory comparison? As in, between Najib and his friend there is this tacit understanding: I can insult you for having kicap-coloured skin which we both know is untrue – it simply means you’re darker-skinned than the average Malay, which, thank god, is not as dark as Indian skin. But, in the presence of Indian people who are entirely able to look like kicap (or have kicap-coloured skin, at least), then we can’t say it, because it would truly offend, thereby revealing this non-derogatory, non-offensive insult for what it really is – offensive and insulting.

If we take an official stand to condemn racism yet excuse racist terms in private discourse by justifying it within specific “cultural contexts”, how do we know when racism IS racism or simply yet another joke?

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