Generasi ME (Melayu 2.0)

When I coined this term back in November 2008, it was a term I used to define this movement which I co-founded with other Malay New Media professionals and practitioners as well as to initiate a culture of improvement within the Malay community.

I was present about 9 years ago when the “Melayu Baru” debate came up. As a teenager, sitting in the old MUIS building’s board room, listening to the older youth (then about 30+ years old) discussing definitions and semantics to the Melayu Baru debate. It was afterall the year 2000. A new Millenium. An “Alaf Baru”.

A lot of politicising was happening. There was the Collective Leadership issue between AMP and the government, the Tudung issue of Fateha.com and Madrasah issue of the respective Madrasahs and their stakeholders.

9 years has passed and exactly what have the Malays achieved? For all the politicking, debates and constant chatter about these and many other issues especially post-9/11 Singapore, all we had to show for, was the incidental PSLE top scorer in a certain 12 year old from a blue-collar, lower class, Malay family.

Her success was not the result of some concerted effort by the Malay community. It was her own success. No one intervened to help her achieve it.

If anything, the Malay community needed a revitalisation which would help them renew their efforts towards this Muslim community of excellence that is prescribed across all the relevant Muslim bodies.

I wanted the Malay community to upgrade itself, yet retain its Malay-ness. I wanted the Malay people to have a more technological definition, yet still remain true to what is a Malay, self-defined, on your own terms.

Thus, I coined the term Melayu 2.0, a combination of the word Melayu, and Web 2.0. On its own, Web 2.0 is a definition of what the web is today, an amalgamation of social technologies and networks. It is from this web-derived vocabulary that the term Melayu 2.0 should be understood.

When we first came onto the scene on Facebook, much of the criticism of the term Melayu 2.0, came from the Malaysians. As this was a Singaporean effort, we responded that we’re not out to redefine orang Melayu such that the essence of the Malays are lost. There were questions on what’s the need for another identity? Melayu je lah. Kan senang.

My response is simple. If you want to identify yourself as simply Melayu. Then that’s your own prerogative. No one is forcing you to be a Melayu 2.0 if you even understand what that means. Melayu is still a race. Melayu 2.0 is not a race. It’s a Web 2.0 movement consisting of Malays who upgrade themselves to better their society.

If you cannot appreciate the intent of this movement, then you should look in the mirror to see if you have indeed justified the meaning of being a Malay? The word Melayu, defined by Javanese vocabulary, means to run as fast and far as possible. The entire Malay culture was seafaring. Malays expanded throughout the globe all the way to the ends of South Africa from the first anthropological evidence of Malays in Hainan Island. We’re a race that defines globalisation without eroding its culture. The Chinese have lost much of their culture through modernisation. But Malays everywhere, whether they are in Taiwan, Cham, Papua, Manila, Sandakan, Cape Town, Kuala Lumpur and Geylang have rode on the waves of globalisation and have not lost the essence of their Malay-ness. We keep our heritage proudly.

But as Singaporean Malays, where are we now? As a community, have we truly, really progressed in the past 10 years since the Melayu Baru debate first arose?

Have we built a confident informal Malay leadership in the absence of a Collective leadership? Have we managed to build trust and greater confidence with other races, so much so that they better appreciate and understand our differences and religiosity? Yet, most pressing, have we improved educationally? economically? spiritually or religiously enlightened?

The reality is that we’re nowhere near these things.

Thus Melayu 2.0 defined itself 3 areas of focus, in Education, Economics and Enlightenment (to be read as both spiritual and religious).

To create a pleasant environment for people participating in the discussion, we prescribed the OB markers of the debate. We believe in Free Speech. But hate speech is not free speech. We also believe that discussions need to be productive, and people need to come away with a sense of fulfillment. So we want to avoid potentially divisive chatter which more often than not revolves around religion.

I personally laid down the rules of engagement. Islam is not up for debate. I did not say you cannot talk about Islam. You can! You can make points with religion as a reference. What you cannot do is debate religion based on political schisms. We recognise that there are Malays of other Mazhabs like the Shia. And instead of excluding them from the discourse, we’d rather include them. They’re still Muslims all the same. So what I do not wish inside the discussions are questions over someone’s religiosity, or someone’s particular flavour of Islam. This is not respectful and not productive, and I cannot allow this in the discourse. The few Shia Malay/Muslims have taken the initative to write Shia-centric postings, so that Sunnis are better informed about their Shia brothers. It is this culture of respect and tolerance that make us Singaporean Malay/Muslims so much more different than the warring Arab tribes as we can see in the Middle-east.

Next, we’re an independent movement. We’re not created by the government. We don’t work for the government. The government works for us and we ensure that the government works with us with mutual interests in mind. We’re part of civil society engaged with the government over policies that affect the Malay community. We’re an informal leadership, allowing others within the Melayu 2.0 community to take up an issue so long as it is with our blessings and approval.

Do we discuss politics? Yes. We’re a non-political movement. That means we’re not a political party. That does not mean we’re apolitical. We’ve defined the focus areas which we want to see an improvement, and these are social issues at its core. So what we want in discussions are not political discussions that are rants of displeasure. We don’t want to have discussions that light the flame of discontentment. What we want are discussions that are productive and arrive at solutions which in turn could become policies the government may implement. This is a community with many different political affiliations. I am not a PAP member. I criticise quite openly, the affairs of this government. But politics is a divisive matter. And what we want is to put aside political ideologies and focus on getting things done for the greater good of the community. The Malays need to stand united as one people in order to improve. Not bicker over politics.

Our channels with the government are clear. We work on respectful, mutual interest basis. We do not believe in locking horns with the government. We give direct criticisms to the proper channels. But we do so respectfully. The fact that we are re-invited for more dialogue is a step in the right direction. The government is listening. The people are speaking up. Isn’t this way so much more better than the aggressive, combative methods used by different community movements of the past?

When we discussed the name Melayu 2.0, we recognised the limiting definitions that affect our mode of administration. So we arrived first by public vote and then by internal vote to choose the name Generasi ME as the official name of the movement, and Melayu 2.0 as the concept of the establishment of this movement. This allowed us to purchase a domain name gen-me.org which would not be possible with Melayu 2.0. Because melayu2.0.org is simply technically impossible.

We then prescribed ME as self-defining. We established that ME means MElayu, Millenium, ME (a collective success of self). You can intepret ME however you like to suit your tastes. We’re not going to push the meaning down your throats. You define your own idea of success. It is about yourself and your success.

It is hoped, through this informal, lightly-managed movement, the Malays will take the initiative on their own to carve a future that defines who they are in this new Knowledge-Based, highly globalised economy. We only established the parameters of this success. You, the Malays, are the ones responsible to realise it. You fail in 10 years time. That’s your own fault. You succeed, that’s your own success. I’m not responsible for your success. You are. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t owe you anything. But in order to achieve this success which you crave for, we need to work collectively.

So enough of this debate on semantics. You can argue all you want but you know as much as I do that it is not helpful. If you want progress, we need to move away from debating about these semantics, and more about finding solutions to pressing problems like the education of the Malays, the economic standing of the Malays, and the spiritual or religious enlightenment of the Malays.

Every morning reciting the pledge, repeating every word, instilled in me a belief of the greatness of this nation. When I grew up, everywhere I turned, I had friends of different races and faiths. I could go to the mainstream PAP kindergarten in the mornings and I also went to the mosque kindergarten in the afternoon. I was exposed to different customs and languages and I had the opportunity to bask in the rich multi-racial flavour of our nation.

“Pledge ourselves as One United People, Regardless of Race, Language or Religion…”, I oathed. Every pledge taking ceremony, this line mattered to me most.

This was what made me different. Whether you’re Malay, Chinese or Indian, this is what makes us different from our ancestral nations. Chinese law states that you must be ethnically Chinese to be a citizen of (PRC) China. In Malaysia, non-Malays don’t get Bumiputera rights. And in India, while you could now naturalise as an Indian citizen, one needs to be a resident of India for at least 11 years. Of course, it would be quite difficult to find Indian citizens of non-Indian ethnicity in India though there is evidence of mixed ethnicity due to the large diaspora of Indians who have since returned.

But in Singapore, no matter what colour your skin is, what language you speak, or what religion you profess (or not), you are always welcome. So long as you pledge yourself as One United People.

The British Surrender

I used to frequent Johor as a child. I have relatives in a kampong at Jalan Setanggi. I remember one morning when my cousin and I talked about our countries, and learnt what it was like in our different countries. I was curious what it was like living in my ancestral land. I asked what was school like, and what they do in school. And we suddenly broke into patriotic competition. We’d sing our national anthems and we’d recite our pledges. I was a darn proud Singaporean but I respected my Malaysian cousins for what they have.

We don’t have kampongs anymore. Gotong-royong is still alive across the border. Here, it’s a different story. We exchanged our simple pleasures for the ones provided to a metropolis. Without the Internet, we wouldn’t know what to do with our time, as evident when I made my trips to Malaysia and Indonesia. Or perhaps, the connectedness with our virtual reality is a way for us to escape the realities of life.

I remember in one of my trips to my cousin’s kampong, I flipped through their photo albums, and in one of them, I discovered a historical relic. There slit behind the clear plastic was a Japanese banana note.

This was a time when Singapore was a significant part of Malaya. What Singapore went through, is shared with our brothers up north. This was a time when you could cross the causeway without a passport. A time when Singapore residents got along with each other, no matter what race.

The table where the surrender negotiations happened

“I want you to surrender without conditions! We shall stop all firing by 0700 hrs ” said General Yamashita to the British officers, led by General Percival. Percival tried to negotiate a later end to hostilities so that there would be enough time to destroy all British government documents. It was a convenient solution for them. Our men battled at the front, bled and died. And they raised their hands in surrender to save their lives.

What Percival didn’t know was that Yamashita was forcing the British to accept a quick surrender as the Japanese had almost run out of ammo and supplies, and had far less men than the Allies.

Had the British any idea of the custom of Ta’at Setia, Singapore as with the rest of Malaya would not have fallen to the Japanese. It was a war of attrition. A war which apparently was in our favour to win, despite the odds and the well-trained Japanese army.

Percival nodded, eventually agreeing to the Japanese terms. “I want to hear from your mouth that you agree to the unconditional surrender!” demanded Yamashita. Percival said in a dejected tone, “Yes, I, on behalf of the British and Allied forces in Singapore and Malaya, agree to surrender and stop all hostilities at the agreed upon time”.

Malay women used as comfort workers turning Geylang into a Red-light district

And then began 3 years of military internment for all in Malaya and Singapore. The Japanese used the British system of administration by race. Colonial master to colonial master, race was seen as an efficient way to administer its territory and subjects. The Chinese would suffer the worst from the racial discrimination of the Japanese. Chinese men were executed at random. They were tortured, and mutilated. Shot and bayoneted.

Every race was used differently by the new colonial masters. The Chinese were treated worse than animals. The Indians were to be re-used as soldiers to fight for the Japanese against British India. But the Japs weren’t quite sure of what to do with the Malays, so they tried to put them to work as labourers in place of the Chinese to revitalise the Japanese administered Syonan and Malayan economy.

Despite the better treatment to the other races, the Japs didn’t pay well. Inflation soared and life was hard. Everyone suffered under the Japanese. Food was rationed and the Japanese encouraged planting our own crops. But hard as it was to buy anything to plant, the only cheap crop was tapioca.

Zaman Ubi Kayu

My uncle described how it was like under the Japanese. “Zaman Jepun, kita takde apa-apa nak makan. Semua mahal. Ubi Kayu aje lah.”

I couldn’t quite imagine eating just tapioca.

“Kalau dapat ayam tu masa raya je. Tak macam zaman sekarang, hari-hari makan ayam,” he continued explaining how luxurious our life is today.

“Duit Pisang ni, jangan di bawak keluar. Ni lah kenangan Zaman Ubi Kayu tu,” he ended his short story about the hardships of war.

I could not help being reminded of the Banana Note as I crossed back the causeway into Singapore. No one in class had ever seen a real Banana Note. Most of my friends in class were Chinese.

And then it struck me. Of course none of them had seen it. Most of them were killed. And these memories were too painful for their grandparents to have. Why would they keep a relic of the past that reminded them of the discrimination against them?

I don’t have fond memories of my time in PAP kindergarten. As much as I appreciated being exposed to the richness of multi-racial cultures, my best memories were the afternoons at mosque kindergarten. Mostly because after lessons, we got to play at the neighbourhood playground, supervised by our teacher. I learnt the same things in mosque kindergarten, except for Chinese language and the ritualistic Islam that were taught to me.

Why? Because I enjoyed mosque kindergarten. People were nice to me, and we had lots of fun. We were taught Malay and English but were mostly instructed in English. At PAP kindergarten, we didn’t get to play. But it was ok. I made some friends there, mostly Chinese. For a kid, if you had a friend, it was fine.

Malay students learning Japanese under occupation

But what made my time there least memorable was how I was discriminated as a non-Chinese speaker. Everyone was expected to take the same subjects. And even if you were a Malay or Indian, you had to learn Chinese. Other mother tongues were not offered yet because the resources were not yet available.

I couldn’t understand a single thing in Chinese class. The teacher kept speaking Chinese! I sat at the back everytime she came in, and she often gave me the least attention. Perhaps, she didn’t think Chinese was important to me. But I tried hard to absorb whatever was taught in class. I didn’t care what the mother tongue was, passing was very important to me!

In my 2 years there, all I understood were the words “mouth” and “people”, mostly because of the gestures and the occasional slip into English. I could write those words too and I was proud of it. But what I couldn’t do was pass Chinese. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t because firstly, my Chinese friends spoke to me in English, and secondly but most importantly, my Chinese teacher did not give me the desired attention of a non-native Chinese speaker. So only knowing those 2 words, imagine how shocked I was when I arrived for school to take an exam. Apparently, even the words “exam” was instructed in Chinese, and I was hardly prepared.

Like the British, and the Japanese masters, this one Chinese teacher didn’t know what to do with the Malay boy sitting by the window. She probably thought I was lazy for not studying hard enough, but I tried very hard to get along. I’m a Singaporean! Regardless of race and language remember?

Malays were given free education under the Japanese to prepare them for economic revival.

Mum was mad at me for failing Chinese. Mum, a Malay lady, mad at me for failing a language I hardly spoke at the age of 5 or 6? I rebutted Mum, “It’s not MY language!”, only as a frustration of how difficult it was to pass the darn thing when my teacher did not make the effort to teach me well. I aced all other subjects, so don’t tell me I was stupid or lazy!

And then, primary school came and I was introduced to the pledge. I already understood the national anthem. It was in Malay! I felt patriotic everytime I sang it, because I understood what it meant. This is my country, and I was singing my anthem in my language! In a way, I pitied my Chinese friends who struggled learning the anthem and could never quite get the words right. I was there before just a year ago, never understanding what was it I was asked to mouth during Chinese lessons. We were an anglicised society and my generation no longer had Malay as the lingua franca. We were asked to preserve our individual community’s languages and customs, maintaining Malay as the only official language at the risk of it being used only for ceremony, whilst using English as a common tongue even though our former British masters had left us to our doom during the war.

The only thing that bonded us, that we often used as inspiration, was the pledge. It was the only thing we understood as One People. In a country where we sing Majulah Singapura, perhaps our disconnectedness from our anthem is a way for us to escape the realities of Singapore life. Maybe we could do better if “One United People, Regardless of Race, Language or Religion”, meant that we embraced each other’s cultures and languages, and treat them as part of our own. Have we surrendered too much of our heritage and our common sense for the sake of “progress and prosperity for our nation”?

Memories at Old Ford Factory. Where the British surrendered.

(End of Part 3)

The last stand

The enemy shelled relentlessly. “Tuan! Peluru dah habis tuan!”, shouted a private. Charlie company had ran out of ammo. Lieutenant Adnan knew the inevitable. They were outnumbered 10 to 1. The 1st and 2nd Regiment gave everything they had, frustrating the Japs, pushing them back to Reformatory Road. But the moment of no return had come. Lieutenant Adnan had a choice to make. It would be untruthful to say that he was glad to make that choice. It would be untruthful to say that he was fearless. His courage was not the absence of fear. Rather it was fear, blinded by honour.

Where were the British? Most of them have left for England months before the war entered Malaya. All who are left were a few British officers, the ANZ regiments and the Indian Brigades. The Brits had never considered to use the Chinese as soldiers. They gave the Communist Resistance old rifles and sent them into the forests of the peninsula in the hope to slow down the Japanese onslaught. Ill-trained, with only their shirts on their back, the Japs had easy pickings against the helmet-less Chinese. The Japs had landed only 7 days ago, and now they try to break past Pt. 226.

We fought with honour. They surrendered.

Lieutenant Adnan could probably hear his heart thumping loudly masking the sounds of grenades and bullets around him. His was a choice shared by many commanders. It’s never a choice between good and bad. Only bad and worse. Between surrendering and dying in action, it wasn’t a no-brainer for a valiant soldier like him. All he could think of was his family; his wife, sons, and a newborn he has yet to see.

His last words

“Company! Pasang bayonet!!” he commanded. “Askar-askar Melayu! Inilah saat yang kami nantikan! Biar putih tulang… Jangan putih mata!”, he bellowed. “Ta’at Setia!” came the echo. His men expended whatever rounds they had left. Lieutenant Adnan scuttled through the communications line to Abbas Manan who manned the machine gun. “Tuan Abbas, jika hari ini ajal saya, saya rela menemuinya. Asalkan ada seorang yang menjaga keluarga saya,” sighed the lieutenant.

“Tuan Adnan!” gasped a shocked Abbas. “Pulang ke markas sekarang! Ini amanah awak!” barked Lieutenant Adnan. Abbas hastened back to base, knowing those would be the last words he would hear of his lieutenant.

These 42 men weren’t fighting for land. They were fighting for love. Fighting to return home safely to the love of a wife, and a son or a daughter. But they died for the love of their country. Ta’at Setia. Ta’at to who? Setia to who? The Sultan? The British?

Lieutenant Adnan

No. None of these things. If this country were void of a sultan, like Malacca or Penang, Ta’at Setia would still be echoed. Were they loyal servants to his royal highness? These men couldn’t care less about the British crown. Regardless of where these men came from, they voiced the same pledge. Certainly those soldiers that were raised in Malacca wouldn’t be pledging their loyalty to the Governor.

2 archaic words, that possess so much complex meaning. Ta’at. All they would ta’at are the wishes of their brothers in arms. Abbas was a survivor of the famous 42 men who battled the Japanese. He lived long enough to tell us his rendition of events on the 15th of Februrary 1942. To tell us that those were Lieutenant Adnan’s last words. All they were setia to are to each other. They fought together and they would die together. Abbas was ta’at to Adnan, which prevented him from dying loyally with his brothers.

Taat Setia

These were ordinary men, who performed extraordinary duties. Duties, not for country, for theirs was a colony on their father’s land which they did not own. But duties to each other. They defended each other, so that their comrades could return safely to someone they love. And if they were to return alive in the face of defeat, how could they explain to a widow, an orphan, a father, or a mother, that their son died in battle. Certainly, only honour could save them from that shame.

Honour.

It begins with a pledge. A pledge taken seriously. It was a pledge they’d bring to their graves.

“Ta’at Setia!” Hairul commanded from the school podium as he brought his clenched fist to his heart. My friend, the prefect, would lead the pledge taking every sleepy morning in primary school.

“We, the citizens of Singapore. Pledge ourselves as One United People…”.

I recollect my time in primary school… and I ask myself. Would I bring this pledge to my grave? Do I have the honour to perform that duty?

(End of Part 2)

The first Malay Regiment recruits

Marker at the entrance of Bukit Chandu memorial

Second Lieutenant Adnan Bin Saidi.

Lieutenant Abdullah Bin Saad.

Lieutenant Ariffin Bin Haji Sulaiman.

Lieutenant Ibrahim Bin Sidek.

Lieutenant Abdul Wahid Bin Mat Kidam.

These are just some of the names that no one knows, who fought, bled and died for this land. These are the officers of the Malay Regiment. These are the anak watan who lived a short life, but left a great legacy. These are the men who lost their lives, so that we could gain our freedom.

The irony of it all, is that these brave men, pre-independence, gave up their lives for a country that has yet to exist. Yet, our country built a memorial for these men, so that we may remember all that they have given up, so that we could live.

Our citizens though have seem to forgotten the deeds of these men. The valiant few who stood tall in the face of danger, who fought to death to uphold honour and spilt their blood for the land they called home, even though Singapore was home for only a few months.

The British had decided that their stand would be at Singapore. That anything defensible was only at Singapore. They posted the Malay Regiment to Pasir Panjang, Singapore, and that was home for the next few months awaiting the arrival of the Japs.

What these men defended was more than land. It was the land of their fathers, and the land of their fathers’ fathers. This was a land of a mystical past, and an optimistic future. This, Singapore (and the rest of the Malay peninsula), was where they belong, and they would not allow another colonialist to take it away from them.

Pepys Road off Pasir Panjang Road

Our country is young. The concept of a national identity is still forming. There is some idea of what it means, and how much a difference it is between being a Singapore citizen and being a Malaysian, and Indian or a Chinese citizen. But if you look into the past, regardless of where our forefathers came from, all of them defended this “foreign land” against the invaders.

Whether it is the Malay Regiment, the Indian Regiment or Force 136, all of them spilt blood for this land, and you cannot take it away from them. It is obliged upon us that we remember these names, and honour them, because our citizenship owes them our respects.

Kastam Malaysia Quarters

When you walk up Pepys Road, up Bukit Chandu, reminisce how this land we call home was once a part of our neighbour’s. We will always be reminded of it. Part of our land is still owned by our neighbour, and they left remnants of pre-65 behind. We must always remember, that no matter how different we are from the Malaysians, no matter what race, our neighbour is our brother. We divided only because of political differences. Only because a few men in politics had differing views. There are many of us, whether they be Malay, Chinese or Indian, have relatives up north. When I served in the army, my Indian seargeant-major, a regular, was born in Johor. My Indian warrant officer, was born in Selangor. They spoke perfect Malay. Yet they served the Singapore army.

I have Chinese friends, Singapore PRs, who were born in KL, Malacca or Selangor. Yet despite their blue ICs, their allegiance was to Malaysia. It was evident where their loyalties lied when I’d bring them to Singapore-Malaysia football matches. They bunched up with their Singapore friends, whom they’ve lived with for years. But their shirts reflected the Merah, Putih, Biru, Kuning. It was to the “Negaraku”, they’d sing and chorused.

It is more important today, that we Singaporeans realise that we are not much different than our Malaysian brothers. We share a common heritage, a common past, and common heroes. The only thing different is our political ideology, and what we stand for in this land we call home.

In order to understand Singapore, we must also understand Malaysia. We are who we are, because of our brothers. Our Singaporean-ness can sometimes be described by how un-Malaysian we are. Yet in the same meaning, it can also be how Malaysian we are.

We both confer the Durian as the King of fruits and we both love our Nasi Lemak and Nasi Ayam. We both use “lah” in our daily conversations, and we both strive for a more harmonious multi-racial country.

Our Fallen Heroes

Sweating from the climb up Bukit Chandu, read every name on the roll-of-honour. Every single soldier who fell, fighting for this land, who formed the last stand of Singapore. From the lieutenants to the drummer, each one of them boots to helmet, dug in along that ridge, and gave everything for the freedom we enjoy. Some of them, like Lieutenant Adnan, mutilated, decapitated, refusing to remove their uniforms. Refusing to die without honour.

Ta’at Setia. Each soldier echoed their pledge to the regiment, to their land. Ammo was short. Fix bayonets! Fight to the death. Honour before death. And we… we call ourselves patriots? We call ourselves proud Singaporeans?

Pertempuran di Pasir Panjang

(End of Part 1)

As usual, on Sunday’s morning, Hazman (me) doing his research on how information (knowledge) science works in our community. He found this lyric which is really make him ponders deeply about his community and why all these while has happened throughout his studies in his post graduate areas. (more…)

When I coined this term back in November 2008, it was a term I used to define this movement which I co-founded with other Malay New Media professionals and practitioners as well as to initiate a culture of improvement within the Malay community.

I was present about 9 years ago when the “Melayu Baru” debate came up. As a teenager, sitting in the old MUIS building’s board room, listening to the older youth (then about 30+ years old) discussing definitions and semantics to the Melayu Baru debate. It was afterall the year 2000. A new Millenium. An “Alaf Baru”.

A lot of politicising was happening. There was the Collective Leadership issue between AMP and the government, the Tudung issue of Fateha.com and Madrasah issue of the respective Madrasahs and their stakeholders.

9 years has passed and exactly what have the Malays achieved? For all the politicking, debates and constant chatter about these and many other issues especially post-9/11 Singapore, all we had to show for, was the incidental PSLE top scorer in a certain 12 year old from a blue-collar, lower class, Malay family.

Her success was not the result of some concerted effort by the Malay community. It was her own success. No one intervened to help her achieve it.

If anything, the Malay community needed a revitalisation which would help them renew their efforts towards this Muslim community of excellence that is prescribed across all the relevant Muslim bodies.

I wanted the Malay community to upgrade itself, yet retain its Malay-ness. I wanted the Malay people to have a more technological definition, yet still remain true to what is a Malay, self-defined, on your own terms.

Thus, I coined the term Melayu 2.0, a combination of the word Melayu, and Web 2.0. On its own, Web 2.0 is a definition of what the web is today, an amalgamation of social technologies and networks. It is from this web-derived vocabulary that the term Melayu 2.0 should be understood.

When we first came onto the scene on Facebook, much of the criticism of the term Melayu 2.0, came from the Malaysians. As this was a Singaporean effort, we responded that we’re not out to redefine orang Melayu such that the essence of the Malays are lost. There were questions on what’s the need for another identity? Melayu je lah. Kan senang.

My response is simple. If you want to identify yourself as simply Melayu. Then that’s your own prerogative. No one is forcing you to be a Melayu 2.0 if you even understand what that means. Melayu is still a race. Melayu 2.0 is not a race. It’s a Web 2.0 movement consisting of Malays who upgrade themselves to better their society.

If you cannot appreciate the intent of this movement, then you should look in the mirror to see if you have indeed justified the meaning of being a Malay? The word Melayu, defined by Javanese vocabulary, means to run as fast and far as possible. The entire Malay culture was seafaring. Malays expanded throughout the globe all the way to the ends of South Africa from the first anthropological evidence of Malays in Hainan Island. We’re a race that defines globalisation without eroding its culture. The Chinese have lost much of their culture through modernisation. But Malays everywhere, whether they are in Taiwan, Cham, Papua, Manila, Sandakan, Cape Town, Kuala Lumpur and Geylang have rode on the waves of globalisation and have not lost the essence of their Malay-ness. We keep our heritage proudly.

But as Singaporean Malays, where are we now? As a community, have we truly, really progressed in the past 10 years since the Melayu Baru debate first arose?

Have we built a confident informal Malay leadership in the absence of a Collective leadership? Have we managed to build trust and greater confidence with other races, so much so that they better appreciate and understand our differences and religiosity? Yet, most pressing, have we improved educationally? economically? spiritually or religiously enlightened?

The reality is that we’re nowhere near these things.

Thus Melayu 2.0 defined itself 3 areas of focus, in Education, Economics and Enlightenment (to be read as both spiritual and religious).

To create a pleasant environment for people participating in the discussion, we prescribed the OB markers of the debate. We believe in Free Speech. But hate speech is not free speech. We also believe that discussions need to be productive, and people need to come away with a sense of fulfillment. So we want to avoid potentially divisive chatter which more often than not revolves around religion.

I personally laid down the rules of engagement. Islam is not up for debate. I did not say you cannot talk about Islam. You can! You can make points with religion as a reference. What you cannot do is debate religion based on political schisms. We recognise that there are Malays of other Mazhabs like the Shia. And instead of excluding them from the discourse, we’d rather include them. They’re still Muslims all the same. So what I do not wish inside the discussions are questions over someone’s religiosity, or someone’s particular flavour of Islam. This is not respectful and not productive, and I cannot allow this in the discourse. The few Shia Malay/Muslims have taken the initative to write Shia-centric postings, so that Sunnis are better informed about their Shia brothers. It is this culture of respect and tolerance that make us Singaporean Malay/Muslims so much more different than the warring Arab tribes as we can see in the Middle-east.

Next, we’re an independent movement. We’re not created by the government. We don’t work for the government. The government works for us and we ensure that the government works with us with mutual interests in mind. We’re part of civil society engaged with the government over policies that affect the Malay community. We’re an informal leadership, allowing others within the Melayu 2.0 community to take up an issue so long as it is with our blessings and approval.

Do we discuss politics? Yes. We’re a non-political movement. That means we’re not a political party. That does not mean we’re apolitical. We’ve defined the focus areas which we want to see an improvement, and these are social issues at its core. So what we want in discussions are not political discussions that are rants of displeasure. We don’t want to have discussions that light the flame of discontentment. What we want are discussions that are productive and arrive at solutions which in turn could become policies the government may implement. This is a community with many different political affiliations. I am not a PAP member. I criticise quite openly, the affairs of this government. But politics is a divisive matter. And what we want is to put aside political ideologies and focus on getting things done for the greater good of the community. The Malays need to stand united as one people in order to improve. Not bicker over politics.

Our channels with the government are clear. We work on respectful, mutual interest basis. We do not believe in locking horns with the government. We give direct criticisms to the proper channels. But we do so respectfully. The fact that we are re-invited for more dialogue is a step in the right direction. The government is listening. The people are speaking up. Isn’t this way so much more better than the aggressive, combative methods used by different community movements of the past?

When we discussed the name Melayu 2.0, we recognised the limiting definitions that affect our mode of administration. So we arrived first by public vote and then by internal vote to choose the name Generasi ME as the official name of the movement, and Melayu 2.0 as the concept of the establishment of this movement. This allowed us to purchase a domain name gen-me.org which would not be possible with Melayu 2.0. Because melayu2.0.org is simply technically impossible.

We then prescribed ME as self-defining. We established that ME means MElayu, Millenium, ME (a collective success of self). You can intepret ME however you like to suit your tastes. We’re not going to push the meaning down your throats. You define your own idea of success. It is about yourself and your success.

It is hoped, through this informal, lightly-managed movement, the Malays will take the initiative on their own to carve a future that defines who they are in this new Knowledge-Based, highly globalised economy. We only established the parameters of this success. You, the Malays, are the ones responsible to realise it. You fail in 10 years time. That’s your own fault. You succeed, that’s your own success. I’m not responsible for your success. You are. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t owe you anything. But in order to achieve this success which you crave for, we need to work collectively.

So enough of this debate on semantics. You can argue all you want but you know as much as I do that it is not helpful. If you want progress, we need to move away from debating about these semantics, and more about finding solutions to pressing problems like the education of the Malays, the economic standing of the Malays, and the spiritual or religious enlightenment of the Malays.

Every morning reciting the pledge, repeating every word, instilled in me a belief of the greatness of this nation. When I grew up, everywhere I turned, I had friends of different races and faiths. I could go to the mainstream PAP kindergarten in the mornings and I also went to the mosque kindergarten in the afternoon. I was exposed to different customs and languages and I had the opportunity to bask in the rich multi-racial flavour of our nation.

“Pledge ourselves as One United People, Regardless of Race, Language or Religion…”, I oathed. Every pledge taking ceremony, this line mattered to me most.

This was what made me different. Whether you’re Malay, Chinese or Indian, this is what makes us different from our ancestral nations. Chinese law states that you must be ethnically Chinese to be a citizen of (PRC) China. In Malaysia, non-Malays don’t get Bumiputera rights. And in India, while you could now naturalise as an Indian citizen, one needs to be a resident of India for at least 11 years. Of course, it would be quite difficult to find Indian citizens of non-Indian ethnicity in India though there is evidence of mixed ethnicity due to the large diaspora of Indians who have since returned.

But in Singapore, no matter what colour your skin is, what language you speak, or what religion you profess (or not), you are always welcome. So long as you pledge yourself as One United People.

The British Surrender

I used to frequent Johor as a child. I have relatives in a kampong at Jalan Setanggi. I remember one morning when my cousin and I talked about our countries, and learnt what it was like in our different countries. I was curious what it was like living in my ancestral land. I asked what was school like, and what they do in school. And we suddenly broke into patriotic competition. We’d sing our national anthems and we’d recite our pledges. I was a darn proud Singaporean but I respected my Malaysian cousins for what they have.

We don’t have kampongs anymore. Gotong-royong is still alive across the border. Here, it’s a different story. We exchanged our simple pleasures for the ones provided to a metropolis. Without the Internet, we wouldn’t know what to do with our time, as evident when I made my trips to Malaysia and Indonesia. Or perhaps, the connectedness with our virtual reality is a way for us to escape the realities of life.

I remember in one of my trips to my cousin’s kampong, I flipped through their photo albums, and in one of them, I discovered a historical relic. There slit behind the clear plastic was a Japanese banana note.

This was a time when Singapore was a significant part of Malaya. What Singapore went through, is shared with our brothers up north. This was a time when you could cross the causeway without a passport. A time when Singapore residents got along with each other, no matter what race.

The table where the surrender negotiations happened

“I want you to surrender without conditions! We shall stop all firing by 0700 hrs ” said General Yamashita to the British officers, led by General Percival. Percival tried to negotiate a later end to hostilities so that there would be enough time to destroy all British government documents. It was a convenient solution for them. Our men battled at the front, bled and died. And they raised their hands in surrender to save their lives.

What Percival didn’t know was that Yamashita was forcing the British to accept a quick surrender as the Japanese had almost run out of ammo and supplies, and had far less men than the Allies.

Had the British any idea of the custom of Ta’at Setia, Singapore as with the rest of Malaya would not have fallen to the Japanese. It was a war of attrition. A war which apparently was in our favour to win, despite the odds and the well-trained Japanese army.

Percival nodded, eventually agreeing to the Japanese terms. “I want to hear from your mouth that you agree to the unconditional surrender!” demanded Yamashita. Percival said in a dejected tone, “Yes, I, on behalf of the British and Allied forces in Singapore and Malaya, agree to surrender and stop all hostilities at the agreed upon time”.

Malay women used as comfort workers turning Geylang into a Red-light district

And then began 3 years of military internment for all in Malaya and Singapore. The Japanese used the British system of administration by race. Colonial master to colonial master, race was seen as an efficient way to administer its territory and subjects. The Chinese would suffer the worst from the racial discrimination of the Japanese. Chinese men were executed at random. They were tortured, and mutilated. Shot and bayoneted.

Every race was used differently by the new colonial masters. The Chinese were treated worse than animals. The Indians were to be re-used as soldiers to fight for the Japanese against British India. But the Japs weren’t quite sure of what to do with the Malays, so they tried to put them to work as labourers in place of the Chinese to revitalise the Japanese administered Syonan and Malayan economy.

Despite the better treatment to the other races, the Japs didn’t pay well. Inflation soared and life was hard. Everyone suffered under the Japanese. Food was rationed and the Japanese encouraged planting our own crops. But hard as it was to buy anything to plant, the only cheap crop was tapioca.

Zaman Ubi Kayu

My uncle described how it was like under the Japanese. “Zaman Jepun, kita takde apa-apa nak makan. Semua mahal. Ubi Kayu aje lah.”

I couldn’t quite imagine eating just tapioca.

“Kalau dapat ayam tu masa raya je. Tak macam zaman sekarang, hari-hari makan ayam,” he continued explaining how luxurious our life is today.

“Duit Pisang ni, jangan di bawak keluar. Ni lah kenangan Zaman Ubi Kayu tu,” he ended his short story about the hardships of war.

I could not help being reminded of the Banana Note as I crossed back the causeway into Singapore. No one in class had ever seen a real Banana Note. Most of my friends in class were Chinese.

And then it struck me. Of course none of them had seen it. Most of them were killed. And these memories were too painful for their grandparents to have. Why would they keep a relic of the past that reminded them of the discrimination against them?

I don’t have fond memories of my time in PAP kindergarten. As much as I appreciated being exposed to the richness of multi-racial cultures, my best memories were the afternoons at mosque kindergarten. Mostly because after lessons, we got to play at the neighbourhood playground, supervised by our teacher. I learnt the same things in mosque kindergarten, except for Chinese language and the ritualistic Islam that were taught to me.

Why? Because I enjoyed mosque kindergarten. People were nice to me, and we had lots of fun. We were taught Malay and English but were mostly instructed in English. At PAP kindergarten, we didn’t get to play. But it was ok. I made some friends there, mostly Chinese. For a kid, if you had a friend, it was fine.

Malay students learning Japanese under occupation

But what made my time there least memorable was how I was discriminated as a non-Chinese speaker. Everyone was expected to take the same subjects. And even if you were a Malay or Indian, you had to learn Chinese. Other mother tongues were not offered yet because the resources were not yet available.

I couldn’t understand a single thing in Chinese class. The teacher kept speaking Chinese! I sat at the back everytime she came in, and she often gave me the least attention. Perhaps, she didn’t think Chinese was important to me. But I tried hard to absorb whatever was taught in class. I didn’t care what the mother tongue was, passing was very important to me!

In my 2 years there, all I understood were the words “mouth” and “people”, mostly because of the gestures and the occasional slip into English. I could write those words too and I was proud of it. But what I couldn’t do was pass Chinese. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t because firstly, my Chinese friends spoke to me in English, and secondly but most importantly, my Chinese teacher did not give me the desired attention of a non-native Chinese speaker. So only knowing those 2 words, imagine how shocked I was when I arrived for school to take an exam. Apparently, even the words “exam” was instructed in Chinese, and I was hardly prepared.

Like the British, and the Japanese masters, this one Chinese teacher didn’t know what to do with the Malay boy sitting by the window. She probably thought I was lazy for not studying hard enough, but I tried very hard to get along. I’m a Singaporean! Regardless of race and language remember?

Malays were given free education under the Japanese to prepare them for economic revival.

Mum was mad at me for failing Chinese. Mum, a Malay lady, mad at me for failing a language I hardly spoke at the age of 5 or 6? I rebutted Mum, “It’s not MY language!”, only as a frustration of how difficult it was to pass the darn thing when my teacher did not make the effort to teach me well. I aced all other subjects, so don’t tell me I was stupid or lazy!

And then, primary school came and I was introduced to the pledge. I already understood the national anthem. It was in Malay! I felt patriotic everytime I sang it, because I understood what it meant. This is my country, and I was singing my anthem in my language! In a way, I pitied my Chinese friends who struggled learning the anthem and could never quite get the words right. I was there before just a year ago, never understanding what was it I was asked to mouth during Chinese lessons. We were an anglicised society and my generation no longer had Malay as the lingua franca. We were asked to preserve our individual community’s languages and customs, maintaining Malay as the only official language at the risk of it being used only for ceremony, whilst using English as a common tongue even though our former British masters had left us to our doom during the war.

The only thing that bonded us, that we often used as inspiration, was the pledge. It was the only thing we understood as One People. In a country where we sing Majulah Singapura, perhaps our disconnectedness from our anthem is a way for us to escape the realities of Singapore life. Maybe we could do better if “One United People, Regardless of Race, Language or Religion”, meant that we embraced each other’s cultures and languages, and treat them as part of our own. Have we surrendered too much of our heritage and our common sense for the sake of “progress and prosperity for our nation”?

Memories at Old Ford Factory. Where the British surrendered.

(End of Part 3)

The last stand

The enemy shelled relentlessly. “Tuan! Peluru dah habis tuan!”, shouted a private. Charlie company had ran out of ammo. Lieutenant Adnan knew the inevitable. They were outnumbered 10 to 1. The 1st and 2nd Regiment gave everything they had, frustrating the Japs, pushing them back to Reformatory Road. But the moment of no return had come. Lieutenant Adnan had a choice to make. It would be untruthful to say that he was glad to make that choice. It would be untruthful to say that he was fearless. His courage was not the absence of fear. Rather it was fear, blinded by honour.

Where were the British? Most of them have left for England months before the war entered Malaya. All who are left were a few British officers, the ANZ regiments and the Indian Brigades. The Brits had never considered to use the Chinese as soldiers. They gave the Communist Resistance old rifles and sent them into the forests of the peninsula in the hope to slow down the Japanese onslaught. Ill-trained, with only their shirts on their back, the Japs had easy pickings against the helmet-less Chinese. The Japs had landed only 7 days ago, and now they try to break past Pt. 226.

We fought with honour. They surrendered.

Lieutenant Adnan could probably hear his heart thumping loudly masking the sounds of grenades and bullets around him. His was a choice shared by many commanders. It’s never a choice between good and bad. Only bad and worse. Between surrendering and dying in action, it wasn’t a no-brainer for a valiant soldier like him. All he could think of was his family; his wife, sons, and a newborn he has yet to see.

His last words

“Company! Pasang bayonet!!” he commanded. “Askar-askar Melayu! Inilah saat yang kami nantikan! Biar putih tulang… Jangan putih mata!”, he bellowed. “Ta’at Setia!” came the echo. His men expended whatever rounds they had left. Lieutenant Adnan scuttled through the communications line to Abbas Manan who manned the machine gun. “Tuan Abbas, jika hari ini ajal saya, saya rela menemuinya. Asalkan ada seorang yang menjaga keluarga saya,” sighed the lieutenant.

“Tuan Adnan!” gasped a shocked Abbas. “Pulang ke markas sekarang! Ini amanah awak!” barked Lieutenant Adnan. Abbas hastened back to base, knowing those would be the last words he would hear of his lieutenant.

These 42 men weren’t fighting for land. They were fighting for love. Fighting to return home safely to the love of a wife, and a son or a daughter. But they died for the love of their country. Ta’at Setia. Ta’at to who? Setia to who? The Sultan? The British?

Lieutenant Adnan

No. None of these things. If this country were void of a sultan, like Malacca or Penang, Ta’at Setia would still be echoed. Were they loyal servants to his royal highness? These men couldn’t care less about the British crown. Regardless of where these men came from, they voiced the same pledge. Certainly those soldiers that were raised in Malacca wouldn’t be pledging their loyalty to the Governor.

2 archaic words, that possess so much complex meaning. Ta’at. All they would ta’at are the wishes of their brothers in arms. Abbas was a survivor of the famous 42 men who battled the Japanese. He lived long enough to tell us his rendition of events on the 15th of Februrary 1942. To tell us that those were Lieutenant Adnan’s last words. All they were setia to are to each other. They fought together and they would die together. Abbas was ta’at to Adnan, which prevented him from dying loyally with his brothers.

Taat Setia

These were ordinary men, who performed extraordinary duties. Duties, not for country, for theirs was a colony on their father’s land which they did not own. But duties to each other. They defended each other, so that their comrades could return safely to someone they love. And if they were to return alive in the face of defeat, how could they explain to a widow, an orphan, a father, or a mother, that their son died in battle. Certainly, only honour could save them from that shame.

Honour.

It begins with a pledge. A pledge taken seriously. It was a pledge they’d bring to their graves.

“Ta’at Setia!” Hairul commanded from the school podium as he brought his clenched fist to his heart. My friend, the prefect, would lead the pledge taking every sleepy morning in primary school.

“We, the citizens of Singapore. Pledge ourselves as One United People…”.

I recollect my time in primary school… and I ask myself. Would I bring this pledge to my grave? Do I have the honour to perform that duty?

(End of Part 2)

The first Malay Regiment recruits

Marker at the entrance of Bukit Chandu memorial

Second Lieutenant Adnan Bin Saidi.

Lieutenant Abdullah Bin Saad.

Lieutenant Ariffin Bin Haji Sulaiman.

Lieutenant Ibrahim Bin Sidek.

Lieutenant Abdul Wahid Bin Mat Kidam.

These are just some of the names that no one knows, who fought, bled and died for this land. These are the officers of the Malay Regiment. These are the anak watan who lived a short life, but left a great legacy. These are the men who lost their lives, so that we could gain our freedom.

The irony of it all, is that these brave men, pre-independence, gave up their lives for a country that has yet to exist. Yet, our country built a memorial for these men, so that we may remember all that they have given up, so that we could live.

Our citizens though have seem to forgotten the deeds of these men. The valiant few who stood tall in the face of danger, who fought to death to uphold honour and spilt their blood for the land they called home, even though Singapore was home for only a few months.

The British had decided that their stand would be at Singapore. That anything defensible was only at Singapore. They posted the Malay Regiment to Pasir Panjang, Singapore, and that was home for the next few months awaiting the arrival of the Japs.

What these men defended was more than land. It was the land of their fathers, and the land of their fathers’ fathers. This was a land of a mystical past, and an optimistic future. This, Singapore (and the rest of the Malay peninsula), was where they belong, and they would not allow another colonialist to take it away from them.

Pepys Road off Pasir Panjang Road

Our country is young. The concept of a national identity is still forming. There is some idea of what it means, and how much a difference it is between being a Singapore citizen and being a Malaysian, and Indian or a Chinese citizen. But if you look into the past, regardless of where our forefathers came from, all of them defended this “foreign land” against the invaders.

Whether it is the Malay Regiment, the Indian Regiment or Force 136, all of them spilt blood for this land, and you cannot take it away from them. It is obliged upon us that we remember these names, and honour them, because our citizenship owes them our respects.

Kastam Malaysia Quarters

When you walk up Pepys Road, up Bukit Chandu, reminisce how this land we call home was once a part of our neighbour’s. We will always be reminded of it. Part of our land is still owned by our neighbour, and they left remnants of pre-65 behind. We must always remember, that no matter how different we are from the Malaysians, no matter what race, our neighbour is our brother. We divided only because of political differences. Only because a few men in politics had differing views. There are many of us, whether they be Malay, Chinese or Indian, have relatives up north. When I served in the army, my Indian seargeant-major, a regular, was born in Johor. My Indian warrant officer, was born in Selangor. They spoke perfect Malay. Yet they served the Singapore army.

I have Chinese friends, Singapore PRs, who were born in KL, Malacca or Selangor. Yet despite their blue ICs, their allegiance was to Malaysia. It was evident where their loyalties lied when I’d bring them to Singapore-Malaysia football matches. They bunched up with their Singapore friends, whom they’ve lived with for years. But their shirts reflected the Merah, Putih, Biru, Kuning. It was to the “Negaraku”, they’d sing and chorused.

It is more important today, that we Singaporeans realise that we are not much different than our Malaysian brothers. We share a common heritage, a common past, and common heroes. The only thing different is our political ideology, and what we stand for in this land we call home.

In order to understand Singapore, we must also understand Malaysia. We are who we are, because of our brothers. Our Singaporean-ness can sometimes be described by how un-Malaysian we are. Yet in the same meaning, it can also be how Malaysian we are.

We both confer the Durian as the King of fruits and we both love our Nasi Lemak and Nasi Ayam. We both use “lah” in our daily conversations, and we both strive for a more harmonious multi-racial country.

Our Fallen Heroes

Sweating from the climb up Bukit Chandu, read every name on the roll-of-honour. Every single soldier who fell, fighting for this land, who formed the last stand of Singapore. From the lieutenants to the drummer, each one of them boots to helmet, dug in along that ridge, and gave everything for the freedom we enjoy. Some of them, like Lieutenant Adnan, mutilated, decapitated, refusing to remove their uniforms. Refusing to die without honour.

Ta’at Setia. Each soldier echoed their pledge to the regiment, to their land. Ammo was short. Fix bayonets! Fight to the death. Honour before death. And we… we call ourselves patriots? We call ourselves proud Singaporeans?

Pertempuran di Pasir Panjang

(End of Part 1)

As usual, on Sunday’s morning, Hazman (me) doing his research on how information (knowledge) science works in our community. He found this lyric which is really make him ponders deeply about his community and why all these while has happened throughout his studies in his post graduate areas. (more…)

Generasi Me boys leading Wordpress Singapore; Check out http://wordpress.sg.

Generasi Me boys leading Wordpress Singapore; Check out http://wordpress.sg.

Generasi Me boys leading Wordpress Singapore; Check out http://wordpress.sg.

Generasi Me boys leading Wordpress Singapore; Check out http://wordpress.sg.

Generasi Me boys leading Wordpress Singapore; Check out http://wordpress.sg.