Back when Abdullah Hussein’s Interlok was first published in 1971, Malaysia was a different place.
In the ensuing 4 decades, we have become much more multi-racist. This entrenched communalism has been, to a large extent, caused by the implementation (rather than original aims) of the New Economic Policy. In the 1980s, the racist rhetoric of ‘Malay supremacy’ also started to be bandied about, further alienating non-Malays. The Malays were never intended to be ‘supreme’. The assistance given to this group was meant to be (to quote former DPM Tun Dr. Ismail) akin to a golf handicap. But when you have an Establishment dominated by a coalition of mainly ethnic-based parties, each party will be called upon to champion only ‘its’ people, against the ‘other’ people. (Lest we forget, Barisan Nasional started in 1971, too).
The National Cultural Policy, also implemented in 1971, further helped turn what should be national institutions into very Malay ones instead. Hence, organisations like Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka and even the national education system became identified as mainly ‘Malay/Muslim’ rather than ‘Malaysian’, as can be seen not only in their staff ratio but their actions, such as having long doa sessions before the start of each event.
I think Interlok is a worthwhile novel. There are many stereotypes (both good and bad), and at times it feels like a more benevolent (though, unfortunately, less humorous) version of The Malayan Trilogy. The fact that the first three Parts of the book are divided into ‘Malay family-Chinese family-Indian family’ also recalls the introduction to P. Ramlee’s 1968 film Sesudah Subuh. (The two men were friends; one of the books I read during the research of 120 Malay Movies was Abdullah’s P. Ramlee: Kisah Hidup Seniman Agung, 1973).
It is sadly indicative of our sorry intellectual climate that most of the rhetoric about Interlok has been led by people who have not read the whole novel. (For proof, check out this statement: “I have instructed my researcher to read the book and find passages that may have degraded the Malays and point it out.” This is by someone who held a press conference to explain why he found the book ‘degrading’!)
It’s easy for people with an axe to grind to read certain sentences and try to make those sentences fit their political agenda. Hey, you can even try it for Huckleberry Finn or To Kill a Mockingbird, not to mention The Merchant of Venice (a work whose racial politics is far more problematic than Interlok‘s.) A good teaching system for this book would be a wonderful chance for students to relearn some of the basic empathy that we have lost over the past four decades. In other words, it is the opposite of a racist book. It is even earnest. I will just pick three scenes that I really like.
In one scene, Cing Huat as a boy had just left his village in China with his father; they are flat broke and as they pass a town market, they are enticed by the food they cannot afford:
Ada bakul-bakul besar yang berisi beras (beras putih, beras gandum merah, hitam dan mas muda), kacang keledai yang kuning, kacang hijau yang besar, jelai. Daging babi bergantungan di lehernya, dibelah sepanjang-panjang tubuhnya yang merah, lapis-lapis lemaknya, kulitnya yang putih, tebal dan lembut. Itik bergantung berjajar-jajar, itik merah yang sudah dibakar di atas pemanggang, itik putih, angsa yang dipotong berjurai-jurai.
This is very evocative prose; and the pork becomes a crucial part of the scene in a totally non-judgemental way that you wouldn’t expect from a stereotypically songkok-wearing sasterawan.
Another is when Maniam first catches sight of the land that would become his new home:
Waktu kapal itu mendekati pantai Pulau Pinang, Maniam terasa negeri yang didatanginya itu sama seperti negerinya sendiri. Pohon kelapa melambai-lambai di tepi pantai dan warna hijau menutupi sebahagian besar daratan pulau itu. Negerinya juga begitu. Lereng Gunung Nilgiris hijau dengan pokok-pokok kayu putih yang tinggi-tinggi mewangi. Maniam sedikit pun tidak berasa bahawa dia datang ke negeri asing.
Lovely. An enlightened school syllabus would have the teacher discussing with her students the extent to which Indian and Southeast Asian histories have been entwined for centuries. In fact, the early kingdoms of the Malay peninsula were all Hindu-Buddhist.
Take this bit where Maniam’s wife (unlike the men around her) dares to confront the white tuan of the estate, in order to defend the truth about her husband:
Malini membesarkan anak matanya. Dia tidak takut pada orang putih itu lagi. Mem itu juga dia tidak takut … Sekali lagi Perumal menjeling. Dia menyumpah-nyumpah anaknya, kerana berani bercakap dengan orang putih begitu … Orang putih itu rasa kagum juga pada perempuan yang kurus ini.
What a great chance for students to then discuss gender roles in society; why was it surprising that she would speak up, and what would be the consequence if women always kept mute?
The book was written in the late 1960s for a contest commemorating the 10th anniversary of Malayan Independence. As such, there are elements that are contrived in order to fit this theme. There is a lot of emphasis on the suffering that the individual characters go through, so that the redemptive unity at the end would seem more glowingly optimistic. Hence, the (at times melodramatic) insistence on ‘negative traits’ in the first three sections of the book, which need to be transcended and therefore ‘cured’ by the time the novel reaches its muhibbah end. The way the book is structured therefore emphasis certain ethnicised ‘negative traits’ (such as the Hindu caste system, which is referenced twice). The ‘Malay part’ alone has: laziness (Seman’s father would rather pawn his land than work harder at the fields), superstition (the same man, when deathly ill, is treated by an unreliable bomoh rather than a doctor) and hostility to education (Seman is kept illiterate because his parents don’t see the point of school).
Interlok is one of the few Malay novels to have prominent non-Malay characters. The utter shame is that it should really have been the first of many more local novels that did the same. If this had been the case, we would be spoiled for choice for a ‘1Malaysia novel’ to fit the literature syllabus. But as it is, the cultural politics of 1971 onwards made more novels of this kind very difficult: ‘Malay’ writers started to write ‘Malay’ books; ‘Chinese educationists’ started to develop the ‘Chinese school system’ (which was not nearly as robust in 1971 as it is now); and so on.
Because supposedly national institutions now seemed more ‘Malay/Muslim’ than ‘Malaysian’, there came a corresponding lack of faith on just how neutral these institutions could be. Hence, the automatic cynicism that greeted the Prime Minister’s 1Malaysia slogan. How to believe it, when the Establishment had been thriving on divide-and-rule for decades? (And when even his Deputy said he is ‘Malay first‘?)
In the last four decades, how many writers have had a national appeal? I think only Lat, and to a certain extent Usman Awang (but do kids read Usman Awang nowadays?). Even in the more accessible realm of showbiz, the names of entertainers who have had pan-national appeal are few and far between: Sudirman, Alleycats, Yasmin Ahmad. Almost everyone else becomes ‘Malay’ rather than ‘Malaysian’. (Now, there is also a parallel ‘Chinese’ star system, as seen in the success of movies like Tiger Woohoo (2010) onwards).
In the brouhaha over Interlok, we have heard from ‘Indian NGOs’ and ‘Malay NGOs’. Why are there so few ‘Malaysian NGOs’ or indeed Malaysians? (Except from the admirable statement from Chandra Muzaffar, with which I agree.) It’s also a bit rich for associations like Gapena and Perkasa (which are both more ‘Malay’ than ‘Malaysian’) to suddenly champion freedom of expression. If they were consistent, they would do the same with Namewee, whose right to create and share his work I defend.
I am appalled that people who have not bothered to read the novel are being so loud and even pyrotechnic in their protests. If taught properly, Interlok will be a fascinating chance for our students to find ways in which they can build upon the essentialist (but not racist) worldview it depicts. But, at the same time, I think I understand how we have come to this. Each community is now addicted to what in America was once called, by an Australian critic, “the culture of complaint“. Our wounds are our badges of honour. We have been made so aware of what countries our ancestors came from that we have lost sight of what country we are creating for our descendants.
Interlok, the novel, is innocent. It is we, as Malaysians, who have allowed ourselves to become guilty.
Bottom of Form