Malay is the problem.
The problem that is Malaysia is a problem that runs from the banal to the idiotic, from what to eat and wear to having girl friends, having a fuck then onward to an utterly callous government, a tyrannical police and corrupted legal system. Imagine for a moment in the place of Altantuya’s parents or, closer to home, Teoh Beng Hock’s: the Malaysian police is a band of available-for-hire assassins, sanctioned by government, after which the legal system can’t and won’t punish them.
No political system in the world, not even under hardcore communism, is more perverse than that found in Malaysia. No social system is more topsy-turvy than Malaysia’s. Next to Jesus Christ, there is no god, no Allah, more inhumane and powerless than that which the Malays import.
After Malays slaughtered the Chinese in 1969, Malay politicians, Mahathir Mohamad pertinent among them, imagined that the core of Malaysia’s problems was in ‘race relations’. What was that exactly was never spelled out. But in the hearts of of the Malays, it was this: The Chinese were not Malays at all and especially not Malay enough. So May 13th would have had happened anyway; the Chinese got what’s coming to them.
Since then improving race relations meant only one thing: everybody become a Malay.
From that single notion and that alone — Chinese are not Malay enough — flowed rivers of perversity, in both directions. Chinese are money-grubbing, prostitutes, greedy, selfish, insensitive — generally immoral. Those bigoted ideas survive to this day, trolled out regularly, for example, in Malaysia Today, in Malaysiakini, by Mahathir Mohamad, by Petra Kamarudin and Ahirudin Attan and Ismail Sabri.
In the other direction — the thing to aspire to — is to be Malay. To be Malay meant to be genial, upright, sensitive, tolerant, generally moral, ‘so sweet’, says the PKR Anglophile named Wong ‘Sweet Malay‘ Chen and the motherfucker Helen ‘Aku Cina’ Ang.
Race relations was fundamentally to become a Malay Thing, a one-way street: to make Chinese more like Malays. Chinese were thus instructed to acquire the Malay language, their custom, in schools wear their baju and songkok while, outside, believe in their Allah (Ridhuan Tee).
Anglophiles in particular (Lisa Ng, Rowena Rotweiller Yam) helped Malays turned on the screws against the Chinese, advocating that those not speaking Malay, or speaking badly, is unpatriotic. Equally as perverse, Sheridan Mahavera, another fucked-up Anglophile, took the argument a step further. By not speaking Malay, he wrote in Malaysian Insider, the Chinese are a ‘barrier‘ to improving race relations. (Lisa Ng added English as another criterion for both patriotism and better race relations.)
All the fault then is with the Chinese. That bigotry, once extrapolated, it became clear that the problem with Malaysia is, therefore, the existence of the Chinese.
Malays were sometimes told, though rarely, to be somewhat like Chinese but only for the sole purpose of getting rich. After which they’d flip around the idea then blame the Chinese in not hiring Malays, so preventing bumis from acquiring better business skills, to be doctors, engineers, builders and motor mechanics although Malays still had Mara, an apartheid institute, specifically created to fulfill a fascist agenda.
To Malays, nothing the Chinese do or don’t do could ever make sense, much less appease Malayness.
Many generations on, after endless repetition of the Mahathir racist lines, the received wisdom became such that the problem of Malaysia is the Chinese.
Today those same notions, when expressed by Mahathir and his propaganda stooges, one in particular named Kadir Jasin, are couched in terms such as ‘parochial’, ‘refused assimilation’, Chinese won’t be soldiers or firemen, won’t die for country. And why not? Because, he would say, the Chinese are after only money, nothing else, suggesting they are immoral, self-centered and selfish.
The Petra ‘Moron of Manchester‘ Kamarudin has trolled out identical notions, the same man who Anglophile Malaysiakini editors had once hoisted up as an exemplary Malay, a man of outstanding lofty principles who would never bribe a policeman, not even to rescue his son from jail. Today, he is Najib’s prepaid mouthpiece and main rabblerouser.
Portraying the Chinese in those terms produced the perfect cover for Kadirian fascism. It masked the underlying idea that only in the Malay, only in becoming Malay, as Chinese are told to, one has national pride, loyalty to country and patriotism. This fed the popular, undisputed assumption that the Malay is the only patriot around so that, purely by ethnic origin, the Chinese has to be unpatriotic to begin with.
How often have the Chinese been told to ‘prove’ their patriotism? Ever heard this asked of the Malay?
In this way was established the racial requisite for loyalty. The result? Every other motherfucking reader in RPK’s Malaysia Today or in Helen Ang repeatedly demands from the Chinese to prove their loyalty to Malaysia, by which they mean loyal to Malays. Annie of the Valley, for example, is half-Chinese (on her mother’s side) but nobody, not one out of 3 million views in her blog, has ever asked her to prove her loyalty. It is assumed she is already a patriot, and that’s because half of her is of Malaiyoo extraction. Since she was conceived through a Malay penis, she had already masuk Melayu; she had become Malay, growing into a Malay bitch to boot.
This perversity continues to grow, and the perception of it multiplies. Even to be a recognized footballer (Faiz Subri) one has to be Malay first.
PAS and elements in Umno such as Ismail Sabri have also thrown in their Allah into the bargain, suggesting, if only the Chinese were Muslims, all of Malaysia’s problems and divisiveness would go away.
The inference is plain to see: To be patriotic, to be loyal, is therefore to be patriotic and to be loyal to Malays. Malaysia is, after all, Malay — and Malays only. Be Malay and all of Malaysia’s woes are taken care of.
This suffocating hokum — as absurd as looking for hot water under the ice — is so thoroughly-infused into minds that when China invested in land, buildings and ports in Malaysia, Anglophile readers of bigoted Malaysiakini jumped at the opportunity: Chinese in Malaysia are told to prove their loyalty. How to? Say ‘no’ to China’s money.
In Malaysia, even currency bills are colored by race so that, at the heart of Muhyiddin Yassin’s bitching, the sale of domestic assets to foreigners, wasn’t sovereignty nor patriotism nor even if the sale was carried out by Najib or his government. No, it was purely a question of selling to whom? Americans and British and Japanese are welcomed but not Chinese; they are enemies of the Malay after all.
Muhyiddin was following a tradition of Umno-inspired bigotry and fascism, cemented during Mahathir’s days. The most successful Malay politician is the one who can best beat up the Chinese. Anti-Chinese racism was, and still is, the primary, perhaps also the only, requisite to success and wealth and to secure Malay political prestige: Najib threatening the Chinese Assembly Hall, Hisham and keris, Ibrahim Ali and Perkasa, Ismail Sabri and Low Yat, Anwar Ibrahim and Abim, Jamal’s Red Shirts….
After Najib Razak stole and filched more than 50 billion ringgit — Umno thought nothing of it since the money was for a worthy, Malay cause — Kadir Jasin spun the act of thievery and squarely blamed it on Jho Low as the mastermind. It implied that Najib himself was the victim of a Chinese scam. Kadir, stupid editor that he is, couldn’t see his own contradiction. Which is, Najib stole and risked his reputation and life to support Malays, politically and financially, but it is the Chinese who drove him to the theft!
Fifty, 60 years after Mahathir manufactured the problem of ‘race relations’, after the Chinese were compelled and made to be Malay-like, after Malays were hoisted up as undisputed fuckers of Tanah Melayu, as ketuanan masters of their own fate, true believers of some imported god, and the Chinese well shunted aside as kafir with restricted political rights and a greatly diminished economic and human presence, Malaysia still needs to be saved.
If Malaysia needs saving, then it couldn’t be from the Chinese. Over the passage of time, its people had been reduced to Malay minions, living in a constant stage of siege, perpetually in fear of the Malay health inspector calling at the restaurant, the Malay bureaucrat, the Malay-Umno thug such as Jamal Yunos, and especially the Malay policemen.
Such fears were not unfounded. Case in point, Teoh Beng Hock, snatched from the office, interrogated, certainly abused — ‘awak orang Cina?‘ — then killed through a tall building window. DAP constituencies would not get roads paved; Chinese schools denied government financial support; policemen hiding behind trees; Malay youths, after stealing, shout ‘orang Cina pukul Melayu’ because it has become right to steal, especially from the pendatang, and because theft from the Chinese has become a moral Malay duty. Remember Low Yat? (Najib Razak gave a near identical excuse after USD1 billion is found in his account: money is for Umno, for Malays, therefore the theft is a moral right.) Malay thugs who gathered at Chinese-held ceramahs in 2013 would disrupt and shut it down. One excuse for the disruption which happened to Anthony Loke was this, his ceramah doesn’t pay ‘hormat‘ to Islam.
Mahathir’s doctrinaire racism had ensure all of that, and especially no Chinese would have any meaningful contribution in national affairs. Not democracy nor God nor morality nor politics nor rally marches nor the general elections of 2013 could the Chinese affect, even marginally, sway the Malay establishment. It had to be the other way around.
So, now, there is just the Malays left.
The greater is power accumulated in their hands, the greater is the rate of national decline. True to that dictum is Najib. After having honed in on the Mahathiristic rapine, depredation Malay culture, he sits at the top of the pile of even more thieving Malays, world renown today as a corrupt race, Muslim to boot.
The problem, as 60 years of history have perennially demonstrated, is the Malay. Being Malay — which the Chinese have steadfastly and rightly refused to be, or they’d end up like them, like Ridhuan Tee or Annie — was never the solution to the problem that is Malaysia. The Malay was all along and has always been the problem. Even the name of Malaysia bears the name of this amok sickness — Malay.
And if Malay-ness is the cancer in the national body politic and in national society, then there could only be one solution: cut and toss it out. Kill the Melayu in the Malay. That, or let the Malays screw each other — as they are doing now, even to their own nieces and daughters in their kampung huts.
To the Ahis, Ismails, Alis, Syeds, Akbars of Tanah Melayu and similar others, wish you 踣街 咸家铲 haamgaacaan. Selamat Tahun Baru Cina.
Though so much hated, the man paraded on the streets isn’t the primary cause of the problem that is Malaysia; he is purely its biggest manifestation. It is simply that the man above can’t see, and won’t, and don’t have to.
The problem that is Malaysia began, mostly, with the man below, leaving behind an illusion called Malay and called Ketuanan, the two being flip sides of a sour monstrous Ramly burger that is everything the dog shit is. So that if, indeed, Mahathir is right in what he says and if he were true to his word — ‘musuh ialah kita sendiri‘ — then he ought to be the first man to throw himself out of the windows of his Petronas towers. That would a fitting beginning to save Malaysia.
Die Old Horse. Malays have turned into a tired, sick and perverse nation and everybody is distraught, don’t know what to do. Please die: you are not the solution but the ultimate problem. You yourself said so. So die! We’ll wait for the day to see you tossed into the grave.
Malay indeed is the problem, and this is even made official by his ‘official religion’.
Malaiyoos need a hippie-hair Chinese conductor to orchestrate their ruinous, pathetic lives to give them order and music and beauty.
Without any cultural refinement, Malays, still lodged in their coconut kampung heads, so anti-sex, so full of fictitious piety, so undisciplined, chaotic and contradictory, could never deliver a musical performance such as that above, a visual episodic feast. Not even in a thousand years. Nor (below) could the Malay as simple as sing to the forest, the mountains and to love. Malay jungles are instead full of pious ulama monyet monyet and tuan muftis, not humans, who have never experienced joy and don’t know what it is to be happy.
My Love is in the mountains,
Breeze, please take my words to her