The final episode in the series is now available here. It examines the issue of how countries such as the United States and Australia should get ready for the so-called “Asian Century”. The interviewees offer a range of different perspectives on this intriguing set of issues. It begins with Columbia University’s Professor Carol Gluck who argues that this century will not be “Asian” after all.

Since the coup of 19 September 2006 analysis of Thai politics has gone through phases. Army politics, Thaksin politics, Yellow politics, Red politics, lèse majesté politics, border politics, protest politics, electoral politics, flood politics: you all know the drill. If you crawl through the back catalogue of New Mandala you get some appreciation for how the evolving story has been dealt with at particuar moments in time. We are, to a lesser or greater extent, captured by the zeitgeist.

And a partial détente is the spirit of the current age.

In response I have noticed some new analytical fashions beginning to emerge. These are all motivated by efforts to come to grips with what could be considered Thailand’s détente — the set of understandings that now see Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra working, mostly in harmony, with those who could be her most fearsome enemies. The return of Thaksin is still at stake and appetites for further conflict appear to have diminished. 

Thitinan Pongsudhirak, writing in The Wall Street Journal, argues:

As Mr. Thaksin angles for a return, members of the establishment have sent conciliatory signals. Gen. Prem warmly received Ms. Yingluck at his residence late last month. And she was recently awarded one of the highest royal decorations.

On the same general theme, Pavin Chachavalpongpun makes the point that:

Initially, it was speculated that her arrival in power could further deepen the crisis because of the conflict between her brother and his enemies. Evidently it now seems that the Yingluck government is interested in making peace with the royalists for its own political survival. This has disappointed her red-shirt supporters.

The fear is that any reconciliation between the government and the palace will likely eclipse the public call for the amendment of the lèse-majesté law for the sake of freedom of expression and the protection of basic human rights.

Depending on how you understand the situation, the disappointment of some Red Shirts may herald a fresh round of factional bickering and re-configuration. Under these conditions, will more explicitly “royalist” Red Shirts, such as Yingluck, carry the day? Or do the republican sentiments catalysed in April-May 2010 still retain their potency? Will they spark an inferno that even Yingluck and Thaksin would struggle to contain?  Or, put another way, can Yingluck safely navigate between “royalist” and “radical” Reds? For her, is lèse majesté simply too hot to handle?

Later in May 2012 Prime Minister Yingluck will visit Canberra. Perhaps there will be an opportunity to ask these questions while she is here. Under the prevailing détente she could hope to continue as Prime Minister for many years to come. But even with apparent understandings between Yingluck and her notional enemies we should not assume that things will run smoothly.

Détente can be dangerous.

Min Aung, a former Burmese soldier and police officer, has penned a lengthy meditation on civil war. It is well worth reading in full.  In the final section he introduces some philosophy:

Please permit me to express this in relation to the teachings of the Buddha. The Buddha was very clear on politics, war and peace. It is well known that Buddhism advocates and preaches non-violence and peace as its universal message and does not approve of any kind of violence or destruction of life. According to Buddhist teachings, nothing can be called “a just war”; it is a false term coined and used to justify and excuse hatred, cruelty and violence. How would one decide if a war is “just” or “unjust” anyway? In the history of war, mighty victors were “just” and the weak and defeated were “unjust”. Buddhism does not accept this concept.

Lord Buddha not only taught non-violence and peace but he even went to the battlefield and intervened personally to prevent a war between the Sakyas and the Koliyas, who were prepared to fight over ownership of the waters of the Rohini. His words once prevented King Ajatasuttu from attacking the kingdom of the Vajjis.

Today, our country is entering a new era, one that promises a better life for all citizens without discrimination based on ethnicity. Development is being encouraged in all sectors and regions of the country. There is much to be optimistic about but for me, a soldier, the sad memories of our decades-old conflict linger on.

I would like to pay my solemn respects to my lost friend, Thura Saw Myat Moe, and all the other fallen soldiers – including those who were once our foes – and request that, if we are really changing to democracy and a free, fair and civilised society, we put an end to civil war once and for all.

Recently, when asked, I have been making the point that:

Myanmar deserves to be at peace with itself. President Thein is in charge. I guess there is a Nobel Peace Prize waiting for whoever manages to finally end Burma’s tragic history of civil war. The real question at this stage should be: is President Thein Sein up to the task? Millions of Myanmar citizens certainly hope so. 

This analytical thrust has got a bit more attention now that The Myanmar Times is running it so prominently. You can read their article here.

Before anyone asks, for the moment, at least, I don’t actually think President Thein Sein is in the running for a Nobel Prize. But I can foresee cicumstances where that changes quite quickly, especially if a “grand negotiation” of the type discussed at the end of The Myanmar Times article was to succeed. I could imagine a joint Nobel Peace Prize for any political leaders who can bring lasting peace to Burma. And that might include U Thein Sein.

For now, we should be asking: What would such lasting peace look like? Who will take charge? And who else needs to be involved?

Malaysia: wanted – a genuine new economic model

There is much to admire about Malaysia, in addition to it being arguably the world’s best place to eat. Its development record is admirable. Since Independence in 1957, its per capita income has risen 8-fold. It has long since left behind its two earlier comparators, Ghana and Sri Lanka. It features prominently and positively in all major international economic comparisons, from the World Bank’s 1993 East Asian Miracle to the 2008 Growth Commission report. The 2.5 to 3 million migrant workers are there for a good reason – even if they are sometimes subject to abuse, life is a lot better than in their homelands.

As a result of the country’s adept macroeconomic management, it has suffered just one serious economic setback, in 1997-98. That event had its origins at least partly in external factors, and it was promptly overcome, without the ‘assistance’ of the IMF. The country has managed to avoid the ‘resource curse’, which has bedevilled the majority of resource-rich developing countries. It features well on most comparative rankings, such as the World Bank’s Doing Business, and the Global Competitiveness Report.

Along with Singapore, it has enjoyed an early mover advantage from its adoption in the early 1970s of export-oriented industrialisation through foreign direct investment, before it was fashionable to do so. As a consequence, it is a major player in the global electronics industry. And although inequality remains high, there is no doubt that the bottom 40% of Malaysian citizens have benefitted materially from the country’s economic growth.

What’s the economic problem, then? Principally, that the economy has yet to regain the dynamism evident before the 1997-98 Asian financial crisis. Even before the more recent global financial crisis, which Malaysia navigated quite successfully, economic growth in the new millennium was at least two percentage points below that of the decade 1986-96.

Particularly worrisome is the slump in investment, which has been stuck at little more than 20% of GDP. This is 10-15 percentage points of GDP lower than the country’s historic ratio. With savings remaining buoyant, the country’s external position has been transformed dramatically. In 2002, the country had net liabilities equivalent to 35% of GDP. By 2008, this had been transformed to net assets of 20% of GDP. Put simply, Malaysians have been finding overseas investment increasingly attractive, while foreigners have been less attracted to Malaysia.

The nub of the problem is that, from a position of early leadership, the country has failed to keep up with fast reforming economies, including the Asian NIEs, China, and even the politically messy states of India and Thailand. That is, insufficient attention has been paid to developing high-quality institutions to underpin a vibrant, modern, internationally competitive market economy.

For example, the country’s industrial policies have backfired. Malaysia might have been expected to be the leading Southeast Asian automotive producer, but Thailand has become the ‘Detroit of Asia’ owing to Malaysia’s disastrous national car program. This is a puzzling outcome when one considers the country’s early successes as the world’s most efficient producer of tropical cash crops, based on its effective R&D, infrastructure and agricultural extension.

In addition, the ‘spillover’ benefits from the country’s large multinational presence in manufacturing have been limited by the fact that Malaysia’s SME’s, that are predominantly owned by the ethnic Chinese community, prefer to stay small, mainly outside the export zones, and below the threshold above which Bumiputera employment quotas become mandatory.

The country’s public universities, once among the region’s best, and still well-funded, have also slipped in East Asian rankings owing to these ethnic quotas, as well as heavy bureaucratic control. The country is now well established to be a regional higher education hub, with the establishment of several major international campuses. However, while welcome, these institutions cannot be expected to lead the country’s transition into a research and knowledge-based economy.

One striking feature of Malaysia’s policy settings is that, although the country is generally very open, it has been slow to liberalise several major service sectors, such as telecommunications and various business services. In turn, this reflects the continuing large presence of state-owned enterprises, termed ‘government-linked corporations’. These GLC’s constitute an unusually large proportion of the economy, and their operations constitute something of a ‘black box’. The slow pace of GLC reform, and in particular the government’s reluctance to expose them to competition and public scrutiny, is testimony to the widespread suspicion that they operate as sinecures for the politically well-connected, in addition to the role they play in the ubiquitous NEP-style contracting and preference schemes.

Although Malaysia has always has always had an impressive commitment to education, the country’s human resource performance is indifferent. The public universities as noted are in need of reform. The country continues to experience a substantial brain drain as a result of the exodus of skilled professionals, mainly those disaffected in the Chinese and Indian communities. The civil service is bloated and in need of major reform. Its growth in recent years reflects in part the pressure the government is under to employ the many (mainly Bumiputera) graduates who are the products of a university system insufficiently attuned to the needs of the market place.

Moreover, paradoxically for a country so concerned about equity, there are major distributional concerns. For all the attention, inequality remains very high, little changed since the 1970s. Malaysia has one of the longest-running affirmative action programs in the developing world. Designed to redistribute employment and wealth to the dominant Bumiputera community after the nasty communal conflict of May 1969, the NEP and its successors played an important role in promoting racial harmony in a country with very large differences in living standards across racial groups. But the programs have created a culture of entitlement, and they have resulted in institutionalised leakages that permeate practically every aspect of Malaysian commercial, social, political and educational life. The NEP needs to be reformulated as a genuine pro-poor policy instrument, based on need not ethnicity.

The case for reform is also highlighted by the drift in fiscal policy. Fiscal deficits have become institutionally embedded since the Asian financial crisis, regardless of the state of the economy. The budget is riddled with large, poorly directed subsidies, which are unsustainable for three reasons: they are reliant on declining petroleum revenue; they are maintained in part owing to a large pool of compulsory savings (the EPF) that has a sub-par return to its contributors; and the demographic clock will start ticking in about a decade, as the currently youthful Malaysian population begins to age.

It is fashionable in Malaysia to attribute its current malaise to China, a country that is able to out-compete Malaysia in low-end and increasingly a sophisticated range of manufactures. While the ‘export similarity index’ (that is the composition of their exports) for the two countries is quite high, and thus there has some been some loss of market share to China from Malaysia in third-country export markets, the notion that the rise of China explains Malaysia’s current difficulties is untenable. That view overlooks the positive sum game for Malaysia from China’s rise. As a resource-rich economy, Malaysia has benefited from the general China-fuelled rise in commodity prices, for example its exports of palm oil and oil and gas. Similarly, commercial opportunities in tourism and education have been rising rapidly, with two-way investments rising very quickly. And Malaysia is a central player in the increasingly China-centred East Asian production networks that export to the world.

There is also currently a muddled narrative in Malaysia and elsewhere that the country is in some sense ‘stuck in the middle’. It is true that growth has slowed, that the country has been in the ranks of middle-income developing countries for some decades, and that export-oriented economies may not be able to rely on strong global trade growth for the next few years. But the notion of being ‘stuck in the middle’ is devoid of analytical content. It is one thing to observe that, at very high levels of per capita income, as countries approach the frontiers of wealth, growth slows down. But Malaysia is way off such a point. The country’s slowdown is self-inflicted, and there is nothing mysterious about the way out. What is needed is determined, reform-oriented government.

I leave it to better informed analysts to explain the deeper political obstacles. The overwhelming impression is of a party in continuous power for 55 years, one of the world’s longest-serving governing parties currently in power among all ‘quasi democracies’. Not surprisingly, elements of UMNO exhibit the problems of complacence and arrogance that one expects from such entrenched dominance.

One thing is for sure: the solutions to the current malaise are well known, and Malaysia is blessed with many able people who understand the problems and know what to do. For this optimist, it is just a matter of time before these two irresistible forces are aligned.

Hal Hill is the H.W. Arndt Professor of Southeast Asian Economies at the Australian National University. This note draws on his February 2012 Boustead Lecture delivered at the Nottingham University Malaysia Campus, which in turn draws on the 2012 volume he co-edited with Tham Siew Yean and Ragayah Haji Mat Zin, Malaysia’s Development Challenges: Graduating from the Middle, Routledge, London.

On Friday, 4 May 2012 about 500 Myanmar migrant workers employed at the SD Fashion/Idea Garment factory in Mae Sot, Tak Province, claimed victory in a struggle against their employer for increased wages and improved living and working conditions.  The workers achieved a doubling of their wages as a result of a two-day wildcat strike they initiated on Wednesday 2 May.  This case is just one of a string of collective actions carried out by migrants in Songkla, Kanchanaburi and Tak Provinces following the 1 April increase in Thailand’s minimum wage.

The following account provides some details on this action as a contribution towards developing greater understanding of the possibilities for workers’ self-organisation under contemporary conditions of flexible labour.  Recent scholarship on labour “flexibilisation” has called attention to global transformations in employment regimes, which have given management greater flexibility in setting the terms of work while challenging earlier models of labour organising.  Yet the fact that workplace struggles nonetheless persist amid such conditions suggests that much remains to be learned about the possibilities for organising under contemporary labour regimes.

In the case of the SD Fashion/Idea Garment factory (locally known by its former name “Champion”), most of the day-rate workers had been earning 75 baht for a daily 8:00 am to 9:00 pm shift.  From 9:00 pm onwards these workers received overtime pay at a rate of 7.5 baht an hour.  As most factories in Mae Sot begin overtime pay at 6:00 pm, the three hours from 6:00 to 9:00 pm were for the Champion workers as though unpaid forced overtime.  Furthermore, the wage of 75 baht per day was far below the legal minimum wage in Tak Province, which was increased from 162 to 226 baht per day on 1 April.  Beyond the problems of wages and work time, the workers complained of grossly unhygienic sanitation facilities, a lack of water in the washrooms, and the fact that there was no door on the toilet.  Not willing to endure this situation any longer, the workers began demanding increased wages and improved conditions on 8 April.  Their employer, however, repeatedly asserted that he could not afford any increase.

As their demands continued unmet some of these workers attended a local May Day rally in Mae Sot where they ran into colleagues from Royal Knitting, another Mae Sot-based garment factory.  The Royal Knitting workers told them how a couple weeks prior they had won a wage increase to 155 baht per day through collective action at their factory.  The Royal and Champion workers discussed common grievances and exchanged ideas about workplace struggles.  Stimulated from the May Day rally and the discussion with the Royal Knitting factory workers, the Champion workers organised themselves that night to carry out a wildcat strike the next day, if their demands remained unmet. 

By 11:30 the next morning word reached workers throughout the factory that the employer was not going to make any concessions.  Thus, as planned, the wildcat began with workers in the knitting department shutting off their lights and walking out.  As workers in the other departments saw the signal, they too shut off their lights and walked out.  At this point the workers’ chosen representatives approached the manager to issue the following demands, which had been collectively decided upon the previous day:

1. An increase in the daily wage to at least 155 baht/day for the lowest paid workers
2. A piece rate increase of 30%
3. A fixed work time of 8:00 am to 5:00 pm for the daily wage
4. Provision of water and an improvement in sanitation facilities
5. An overtime wage rate of 30 baht per hour
6. A 20 baht payment for their daily “time card” check

Rejecting these demands, the manager instead offered the workers a 15 baht per day increase and told them “If you want to work at this rate, work.  If not, get out.”  As the workers were not satisfied with this amount they contacted the Mae Sot branch of the Thai Labour Protection Office (LPO), which sent a lawyer on 3 May to meet with the factory manager.  The workers, meanwhile, remained out on strike.  Following this meeting, the LPO lawyer visited the workers and told them to send their representatives to the LPO on Friday, May 4^th at 10:00 am for a negotiating meeting with an LPO staff member and the employer.

At 9:45 on Friday morning, 14 workers, along with staff from the Yaung Chi Oo Workers Association and the Joint Action Committee for Burmese Affairs (JACBA), met outside the Labour Protection Office.  The workers discussed the recent events and went over plans for the negotiating meeting.  The Yaung Chi Oo and JACBA staff offered the workers encouragement, information and suggestions.  JACBA’s U Moe Kyo, for example, stated “When you’re in the negotiating room, if there aren’t enough chairs, don’t crouch down on your haunches.  It’s better to stand.  Don’t put yourself at a lower level than the employers.  You need to show that you are their equals.  And make sure to spit out your betel nut before you go inside.”

Shortly before 10:00 am we saw the general manager and two sub-managers enter the LPO office.  The LPO interpreter then came out to invite seven worker representatives inside.  The negotiating meeting lasted close to three hours.  At one point, two staff from the local worker organisations and I were invited inside when negotiations got stuck over the amount of increase for the piece rate.  The workers had demanded a 30% increase and the employer responded with an offer of 17.5%.  The worker representatives were mostly on daily wages and therefore phoned to consult some of the piece-rate workers about the offer of 17.5%.  The employer and LPO staffer, however, were pressing the representatives to hurry up.  At this point, the Thai factory manager, who did not appear very content with the situation, turned to me and said in English, “I want to cut this short. These workers have been off work for two days already and I’ve lost 200,000 baht.”  The worker representatives nonetheless took their time in order to ensure that the concerns of their piece-rate colleagues were fully included in any final agreement.

When negotiations finished at around 1:00 pm, both sides signed an agreement under the auspices the Labour Protection Office, according to which:

1. The base daily wage will be increased to 155 baht per day (with wages of higher paid workers increasing commensurately)
2. The piece rate will be increased by 20%
3. The standard shift for the daily wage will be shortened to 8:00 am – 5:00 pm
4. Management will address workers’ concerns about the lack of water and poor sanitation facilities
5. No workers will be fired for taking part in this action

The overtime rate and “time check” payment are to be decided at a future negotiating session scheduled for 1 June

Although the new wage rate remains far below the official minimum wage (and even below the pre-1 April rate) the workers involved in this action were generally satisfied with the final agreement.  At a meeting of workers following the Friday negotiations those involved in the action were exuberant about their victory.  They were also pleased with their own capacity to act collectively to achieve their goals in the face of management intransigence.  I asked one worker who had taken a leading role in this action what he thought were the workers’ key strengths.  He replied: “Our solidarity, of course!”  In addition, this worker pointed to the fact that his previous experience of workplace struggle at a different factory in Mae Sot had given him knowledge and confidence with which to engage in the present action.  He also acknowledged his appreciation for the support he and his coworkers had received from local worker support organisations, especially technical information on Thai labour law.  Sitting together after the event the workers chatted contentedly about their victory and, what is for many of them, a newly realised capacity for self-organisation and collective action, which some told me they hoped to apply again in the event of future workplace conflicts.

Stephen Campbell is a PhD student in the department of anthropology, University of Toronto, researching precarious labour and worker organising among Myanmar migrants in Thailand.

On Monday night I had the great honour of sharing a stage here at the Australian National University with Sandar Min, Phyo Zeya Thaw and Phyo Min Thein, three of Burma’s newly elected National League for Democracy Members of Parliament. They were in Australia supported by the international outreach arm of the Australian Labor Party, and addressed a bumper audience at Bruce Hall. The other speakers were Janelle Saffin MP and Dr Jane Ferguson.

A comprehensive account of the event is available from the ANU College of Asia and the Pacific website. 

During their days in Canberra the NLD delegation also met with Foreign Minister Bob Carr. You can read Mr Carr’s take on that meeting here.

At the ANU event my remarks were made immediately before the evening lurched into a wide-ranging Question and Answer session. The following text reflects, to a large extent, what I ended up saying.  For those who are interested, a video of the event, including the speeches by the NLD MPs, should be available soon.

********

Good evening ladies and gentlemen,

Thank you to Jessica Avalon and the Asia Pacific Learning Community for organising this evening’s event. This must be one of the best attended discussions of Myanmar’s politics I have ever seen. It is a credit to all who have participated. It is truly a beautiful evening when we can welcome Myanmar’s elected democrats to Canberra and benefit from their unfiltered views on the country’s future.

Tonight it is my unenviable duty to follow such distinguished speakers. They have provided us with much analytical insight and fresh information. In the hope of leading us into a fruitful Question and Answer session let me offer a very brief, critical appreciation of what might happen next in Myanmar.

In Myanmar today there is an understandable urge to see everything change, right now. With 43 National League for Democracy representatives endorsed by the people to take part in the official political conversation there are reasons for great optimism. Nobody can remember a time when Myanmar’s people could dare to dream like they can today. And not just dream but also vote, debate, scrutinise. However, I think there are reasons to consider the prospects for change with one eye on the problems just over the horizon.

So to fertilise our discussion of what happens next in Myanmar let me offer four areas where Burma’s government, whether led by President Thein Sein or President Aung San Suu Kyi, will need to work with diligence, goodwill and savvy. This will be a bumpy road, with countless obstacles and hidden dangers.

First, there is the issue of demilitarising the political elite. Perhaps we saw the first signs of this when one of the Vice Presidents, former general and decorated combat commander Tin Aung Myint Oo, stepped down from his post last week. Maybe other senior figures, to include most of the President’s cabinet, will one day be replaced by civilians. In Myanmar, the process of demilitarisation will need to be extensive; it will, I’d suggest, last a generation. No country in Southeast Asia has completely taken the military out of politics but there are some in the neighbourhood, such as Thailand, where history offers warnings about the uniquely destabilising potential of a coup-prone army. Myanmar doesn’t want to go down that path.

Second, if Myanmar hopes to avoid that path it needs to find more productive outlets for the energy of the army’s 400,000 troops; killing Kachin in the re-ignited war in northernmost Myanmar is hardly the way forward. My humble suggestion to the President is to declare a unilateral ceasefire, take armed force off the agenda, and get the Kachin to the negotiating table in a more meaningful way. The President should, in my mind, lead the negotiations himself. In Myanmar ending inter-ethnic civil war is a President’s job. I also guess there is a Nobel Prize waiting for whoever can finally bring Burma’s many ethnic groups into peaceful coexistence.

Third, there is the problem of grinding poverty in many regions of the country. Myanmar is, as our colleagues from the NLD will attest, still a very poor place. Its economy need injections of capital, and will also benefit if some of the millions of Burmese scattered to the four corners of the earth decide to try their luck back at home. Economic transformation will be just as important as the political reforms we see today.

Fourth, there is the need for national reconciliation. Truth and reconciliation will go hand-in-hand. Accounting for the horrors of the past will be a crucial step forward. 1988. 2007. Everything. Among ethnic minorities, especially, peace will only come with justice. Ceasefire stalemates will need to be followed by long-lasing and sustainable peace.

These four issues—demilitarisation, ethnic war, poverty and national reconciliation—will loom large for many years to come. There is also a chance, however modest, that factions in the armed forces will disavow the reformist instincts of the President and his men. A coup would be disastrous, and is the last thing Myanmar needs right now. It is only by working through the messiness of political participation that things will improve.

On that note it is promising that the current government is even prepared to consider these challenges. And it is a credit to so many Burmese, including those who join us here this evening, that Myanmar is heading in such a positive direction.

Hope has returned to their beautiful country. We all wish them the very best of luck.

In an challenging recent book, ‘Malaysia at a Crossroads. Can we make the Transition?’ (Abdul Rahman Embong and Tham Siew Yean, 2011), colleagues of mine from IKMAS (Institute of Malaysian and International Studies) at the Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia (UKM) floated the idea of a ‘critical transition’ for Malaysia (p.17). This involves significant changes in social structure and relations, and in the politics, economy and culture of Malaysian society. The impetus for such transition is associated with the reformasi movement and consequent altering aspirations since the 1990s.

As an involved outsider, I see clearly that transition is needed, and agree with my UKM colleagues in their further prescription that this will involve key elements of investment, technology upgrading, institutional reform and changes in state-society relations. These elements are applicable to Malaysian agriculture, which is my personal preoccupation.

Malaysian agriculture has largely missed out in discussions about Malaysia’s future. It does not even get much attention in the 10th Malaysia Plan (2011-2015). But in fact agriculture, along with fisheries and forestry, still accounts for 7-8 percent of Malaysia’s gross domestic product, which is a high level for a country at Malaysia’s stage of economic development. The sector also involves around one million workers, with about half of these being temporary migrants. Parts of the agricultural sector are highly dynamic, and have good potential for the future. But there are also numerous emerging problems needing to be considered in future transformation.

The scope of the agricultural sector is reflected in Table 1, which presents the areas of the main crops in 2012. The Table shows the huge predominance of oil palm in the total estimated crop area of 6.8 million hectares, followed by smaller extents of rubber and rice. It also denotes the relative roles in cultivation of the three main types of Malaysian agricultural entity – the estates, the land development schemes and the independent smallholdings.

Table 1: Crop Areas on Estates, Land Development Schemes and Individual Smallholdings in Malaysia, 2012 (‘000 hectares)

The estates are what many people term ‘plantations’, with individual units being large and commonly covering 2,000-10,000 hectares. The units are often grouped in big estate companies. The biggest of all, Sime Darby, controls 500,000 hectares of which 300,000 hectares are in Malaysia. The land development schemes are also extensive, with those managed by the Federal Land Development Authority (Felda) being the most significant and being frequently managed like estates. In contrast, independent smallholdings are limited to 1-2 hectares, and are managed by family households which often only work part-time.

All agricultural entities involve foreign workers, with those on estates and land development schemes being mainly hired through contractors, while those on independent smallholdings are usually provided through dealers purchasing fresh fruit bunches or latex. A key feature of Malaysian agriculture has been the migration of younger people to urban areas since the 1980s, with numerous estates today having almost lost their original Malaysian workers, and with land development schemes and smallholdings being chiefly inhabited by older people. Harvesting oil palm bunches with long sickles, for example, is difficult for older people, and without the foreign workers would be largely impossible. It is predominantly a job for young males of 20-35, who can easily conduct such work on a regular basis.

Oil palm and rubber

Oil palm and rubber continue to do well, despite their reliance on migrant labour. Palm oil commands relatively high international prices, which are sustained by high persisting demand in both the food and non-food sectors. The latter is especially connected with biofuels, where petroleum is predicted to grow scarcer in relation to burgeoning global consumption. Rubber too remains a vital industrial product, and has seen a quadrupling of price over the last decade. It also has favourable forecasts for the future. Returns to producers from these crops are accordingly high, and there is as well substantial ‘downstream’ development into manufactured products. Hence both estates and Felda have important manufacturing interests, which are also taking in palm oil and rubber produced in neighbouring countries.

Another positive feature of both oil palm and rubber are the associated research facilities, mainly financed by government but also operated by estate companies. These have produced a stream of vital new innovations over the years, enabling crop productivity and quality to be raised and costs to be reduced. Such innovations can be readily absorbed by the estates and land development schemes with their centralised management structure and access to capital, but are more difficult to adopt on independent smallholdings. This research continues strongly, although the emphasis has moved to some extent to facilitating downstream aspects that enable Malaysia to compete effectively on international markets.

Despite this good picture, however, there are major problems for the future, one being the rising cost of labour associated with increasing wages in neighbouring countries from which workers are recruited. It is not unusual in 2012, for example, for workers in West Java to earn Rp1.600.000 ( RM600) per month. This is still below the Malaysian plantation wage, but the rapid expansion of Indonesian manufacturing could push Jakarta wages up to RM1,000 per month within a few years. At that stage Indonesian workers would hesitate to come to Malaysia without wage increases well above this level. Such increases can be absorbed by the Malaysian oil palm and rubber producers, but will reduce profits substantially. This development emphasises the importance of labour-saving technologies, which are easier to secure in rubber than in oil palm.

Another emerging difficulty is the growing scarcity of land for further expansion. The estates have doubled in area over the last two decades, and would like to expand further in a move I personally believe undesirable. But the overall difficulty of scarce land is connected with the need for woodland preservation, where the general Malaysian consensus appears to be that 50 per cent of the land area should be retained as forest. The figure is below that already on the peninsula, but above it in Sabah and Sarawak. Thus while some further expansion may occur, the emphasis will soon shift from extensifying to intensifying production on existing areas. There is good scope for further productivity rises in the intensification process, and research and extension agencies need to concentrate on this.

A further and more severe difficulty entails promoting oil palm and rubber improvements on the large sub-sector of individual smallholdings. Here there are special social and cultural problems to be dealt with, and these are examined below.

Rice 

This relatively small sub-sector is a sphere where Malaysia faces continuing problems in promoting change and improvement. It is largely, although not exclusively, a subsector operated by independent Malay family households. The two overweening official policies have been to assist these households in securing better livelihoods, while at the same time obtaining self-sufficiency in national rice consumption. Thus generous policies of financial assistance and technical help have been pursued for 30 years, and have obtained some improvement. But in 2012 only 71 per cent of rice is being produced in Malaysia, while yields are still lower than those under comparable conditions elsewhere. Costs of production, on the other hand, are considerably higher. Many rice producers remain locked in to a relatively unproductive agricultural system, and the gap between their and urban incomes has grown wider.

There seems little doubt that Malaysian policymakers and Malaysians broadly favour the idea of some self-sufficiency. This is because there have been times, as in 2008 and 1974, when international rice shortages severely threatened Malaysian supplies, and such difficulties are likely to re-occur. But it should be possible to improve production facilities in a way that benefits participating farm households, while at the same time achieving part of the self-sufficiency objective. There are difficulties in land tenure which need to be overcome so farmers can get bigger holdings, and an urgent need for improvements in extension along the lines suggested below.

Looking to the future

As already noted, the four elements in critical transition of investment, technology upgrading, institutional reform and changes in state-society relations all have roles in transforming Malaysian agriculture. There is indeed continuing investment and technology upgrading in the cases of the Malaysian estate and land development sub-sectors. The directions of this investment and upgrading nevertheless raise many questions, and there are additional issues of institutional structure and of how the state should act in facilitating progress. These important aspects of transition will be explored in a subsequent contribution.

The focus of the remaining discussion will be on the role of the four elements in critical transition to improving the most backward sector of Malaysian agriculture, the independent smallholdings. These smallholdings, which in different parts of Malaysia are importantly involved in cultivating oil palm, rubber and rice, have big potentials for better performance. They are also in many ways the most important players in the total Malaysian rural scene.

The basic goal in improvement of independent smallholdings is to build a modern dynamic small farm agriculture, based largely on family households and producing returns which at least match those secured from alternative urban enterprises. This goal is not easy to attain, and is attended by needs for change in many social and cultural aspects springing from traditional society. One need is the institutional reform of land tenure, which as suggested above restricts possible increases in holding size. Such tenure is a State matter in Malaysia, and deserves far more attention than it has done to date. Another need is in technology upgrading through providing more information, and this is associated with the further need for investment in funding new innovations.

There is finally the state-society need for government to facilitate the other 3 needs of critical transition. One major vehicle for this is the provision by government of an extension service effectively supplying information and training, and facilitating the provision of appropriate funding. Good extension services have been crucial to small farm development in many countries around the world, with part of this process entailing progressive adjustment by extension personnel to the burgeoning needs of small farmers. A promising recent start to this end in Malaysia was the initiation three years ago of the ‘Tunas’ oil palm extension service of the Malaysian Palm Oil Board, which is now directed to assisting oil palm independent smallholders and administering planting grants for establishing high-yielding materials. This national service of some 200 extension officers, backed up by specialists, is an effective example of what can be done.

Malaysian agriculture is a sphere of major economic potential, whose transformation needs to be underlaid by substantial social change. There are many possibilities of improvement, and these deserve to be actively canvassed. National discussions of agricultural improvement have however, been unduly limited, and that the sector deserves more attention in policy thinking and implementation.

Dr. Colin Barlow has worked on the socio-economic problems of Malaysian agriculture for many years, being especially involved with oil palm and rubber. He is currently CEO of the Nusa Tenggara Association, an Australian NGO engaged in rural development in eastern Indonesia. He is a visiting fellow in the Department of Political and Social Change at the Australian National University.

Reference

Abdul Rahman Embong and Tham Siew Yean (eds, 2011), Malaysia at a Crossroads. Can we make the Transition? Bangi: Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia.

Jati Bening, Bekasi, Indonesia, 27^th April, 2012.

Earlier today it was announced that Ampon Tangnoppakul, also known as “Ar Kong”, has passed away. The 62-year-old grandfather was serving a 20 year sentence after being convicted of lese majeste for sending SMS messages. He will forever be known as “Uncle SMS”.

It was always a tragic and wasteful situation. Now, with their lack of leniency and compassion, the Thai authorities have digraced the kingdom.

Ar Kong was hoping for a royal pardon. This is a sad day indeed.

Previous coverage of Ar Kong’s tragic predicament is available here, here and here. This article also has some useful details on his case and its context, as does this earlier report.

Condolences to his family and friends at this sorrowful time.

This other statue, which stands in the grounds of the enormous new Defence Services Museum, consists of three life-size figures. One holds aloft a leafy branch, another raises a five-pointed star, and the one in the middle carries an unfurled flag. As seen in Nic’s photo below, the statue’s massive red and white pedestal surmounts a large white star, above the emblem of Burma’s armed forces (Tatmadaw).

Photo of statue, by Nic Dunlop

This striking triptych does not appear to be identified in any way, raising a number of questions not only about the meaning of the statue itself, but also the symbolism of each component part. It is possible to read too much into such public displays but, by looking back through modern Burmese history, a number of possibilities present themselves.

Judging from their uniforms and military helmets, the three figures are soldiers. Taken together, they probably represent the Tatmadaw. It is curious that these figures are not portrayed in a way that better illustrates the three services, namely the army, navy and air force, but perhaps the designers of the statue wanted to emphasise that each figure had the same symbolic significance.

The figure on the left could be holding up a branch of the padauk tree, long revered by the Burmese for its strength and durability. Alternatively, it could be a sprig of laurel leaves, which represents victory in most Western cultures, or even an olive branch, universally known as a symbol of peace — as seen for example in the seal of the United Nations.

Another, albeit less likely, explanation is that the soldier is holding up a sheaf of rice, Burma’s staple crop and — under Ne Win’s socialist regime — used to represent the country’s peasants. Together with a pinion, or cog-wheel, symbolising the workers, a stalk of rice figured on the national flag which was used from 1974 until 2008. During this period, the state seal included two ears of rice surrounding a cog-wheel and an outline map of Burma, flanked by two chinthes.

After promulgation of the 2008 constitution, Burma adopted a new flag and state seal. On the latter, the map of Burma which makes up the central motif is surrounded by two (indeterminate) leafy branches. Since at least 2002, similar branches have bracketed the Tatmadaw crest on the cap badges of military officers. Police cap badges are different, but they too incorporate garlands of leaves. However, it is not clear what kind they are.

The five-pointed star has a long history in Burmese iconography. During the Second World War, the nationalist Burma Independence Army and Burma Defence Army wore the star of the Imperial Japanese Army on their caps. After Burma’s nominal independence in 1943, officers of the renamed Burma National Army seem to have worn the traditional peacock emblem, but most soldiers retained the star.

A white five-pointed star also appeared on the red banner of the Resistance or Revolutionary Army, later called the Patriotic Burmese Forces (PBF), which General Aung San led against the Japanese, after striking a deal with the invading Allies in March 1945. After Burma regained its independence in 1948, the same flag seems to have been adopted as the flag of the new Burma Army.

The first national flag of independent Burma incorporated a large star surrounded by five smaller stars. The large star stood for the unity of the nation. The smaller stars stood for five of the constituent parts of the Union, as outlined in the 1948 constitution, namely Shan, Kachin, Karen and Kayah States and the Chin Special Division. All the stars were coloured white to denote truth, purity and steadfastness.

After the 1962 coup, Ne Win’s Revolutionary Council adopted a red flag with two overlapping white stars in the canton. This design was clearly derived from the PBF and Burma Army flags.

On the flag of the Socialist Republic, introduced in 1974, the Union star of the democratic era was replaced by the cog-wheel and rice device, to denote workers and peasants. However, the flag incorporated fourteen small stars, representing the country’s seven states and seven administrative divisions. The regime also added a large star to the national seal, replacing a third chinthe which had stood above the central motif.

It might also be worth recording that leftist groups in Burma set aside the hammer and sickle (used, for example, by the nationalist Dobama Asiayone during the 1930s) in favour of stars on their flags. The two main factions of the Burmese communist party adopted different coloured flags, but both included a large star and three smaller stars – presumably representing the party and three classes identified in communist doctrine.

And, of course, since September 1988 the flag of the National League for Democracy, of a fighting peacock on a red field, has had a white, five-pointed star in the canton.

The national flag devised by the SPDC for the new Republic of the Union of Myanmar, and formally adopted in the 2008 constitution, is based on the yellow, green and red tricolour used by ‘independent’ Burma during the Japanese era. Instead of a central peacock device, however, it has a large white star, presumably representing the Union.

The Tatmadaw has always used the five-pointed star as a symbol. In addition to the Resistance and army flags, mentioned above, the formal crest of the armed forces has a large star representing the Union, above symbols of the three separate services — wings for the air force, an anchor for the navy and a smaller star representing the army. Several regional military commands incorporate stars in their flags and shoulder patches.

The timing is unclear, but the SLORC seems to have changed the Burma (now Myanmar) Army crest and flag to the now familiar red and white device showing a traditional Burmese (‘Bandoola’) helmet crossed by a spear and dah (sword). The naval ensign and air force flag, however, still incorporate white stars. Burmese soldiers and policemen still wear a white star on their helmets.

To return to Nic Dunlop’s photo of the mysterious statue at the Defence Services Museum in Naypyidaw, the flag being held by the central figure is hard to identify. It could be the flag of the armed forces, but is more likely to be the new national flag. Like governments the world over, Burma’s military regime has consistently used the flag to represent the country, in particular its national sovereignty.

With all these factors in mind, a possible explanation of the statue presents itself. Could it be a graphic, if rather grandiose, representation of the former regime’s three ‘national causes’, which were promoted endlessly by the SLORC and SPDC through public propaganda campaigns, school education programs and military indoctrination courses? Stated briefly, these were stability, unity and national sovereignty.

Photo of Myanmar Police Force personnel on parade in front of the three kings statue, by Nic Dunlop

In 2008, these three national causes were elevated to the level of ‘basic principles’ and, along with three others (such as the Tatmadaw’s national leadership role), were enshrined in the new constitution. They thus remain relevant to the hybrid civilian-military parliament ‘elected’ in 2010 and the government formed by President Thein Sein in 2011.

Applying this logic to the statue, the branch could be a sprig of olive, representing peace (or, in the regime’s parlance, internal stability). Based on its past use, the star most likely represents the unified country (the Union), while the flag probably represents Burma’s national sovereignty and independence.

Photo of Myanmar soldiers with star on the helmets, by Nic Dunlop

If this is a correct reading of the statue’s meaning and motifs, then the military garb of the three standing figures most likely represents the Tatmadaw’s perceived central role in promoting and safeguarding these three causes. Such an interpretation is also supported by the nature of the symbols found on the statue’s massive pedestal.

All this is rather speculative, however, and begs some hard facts. If any New Mandala readers can identify this particular statue, or can add anything to the train of thought which has led to this conclusion, comments would be most welcome.

Dr Andrew Selth is a Research Fellow at the Griffith Asia Institute.

Bersih 3.0 had a lot of Baru (new) in it. Among other things it was no longer a march, it was a sit-in occupation of a symbolic venue. It wasn’t dominated by one ethnic group or class but comprised many new communities: the middle-classes, religious groups, many more Chinese and even some children joined. Some would say, surely correctly, that Bersih 3.0 was more 1-Malaysian than 1-Malaysia.

Another important element of Bersih is how it signals a new era in Malaysian socio-political activism. A new kind of civil mentality. Given the excitement and passion surrounding April 28^th, it may be easy to forget that less than half a decade ago, the biggest and most ‘enjoyable’ political story was of this lone ranger, Raja Petra Kamaruddin, tearing up Putrajaya’s veil of corruption with his high-class exposés, now it’s about half a million people in the streets getting tear-gassed.

In 2008 the symbol was a fist; in 2012 it’s a flower. With RPK, the colour was always black (or a fierce red) – now we all know what colour rocks.

From RPK to Bersih. Has Malaysia made a transition? Maybe.

RPK is essentially an individual pleasuring himself via exclusive access to and dissemination of sensitive information (and his readers pleasuring themselves by watching him pleasure himself whilst secretly wishing they were privy to such restricted data, documents and, well, self-pleasuring). Bersih is about a collective movement that, quite literally, refused to be hemmed in, deals openly and transparently with public issues and cannot be limited to one or even a million persons, all of whom won’t find much pleasure in being tear-gassed.

RPK’s primary method is exposing classified information; everything hinged on the truth of RPK’s clandestinely obtained and thus by nature highly exclusive files. Bersih’s method is striking at the heart of a public and non-exclusive process which involves a more risky journey of debate, reflection, ‘grey areas’, conversations and scores of people doing something as radical as sitting down. (It is thus no coincidence at all that in his recent series of essays about Bersih 3.0, RPK brags that he will reveal the ‘real story, the untold story’ of Bersih).

RPK tells of dark, secret things and asks us to believe that he – and usually he alone – can  guarantee knowledge no other can (willingly) provide. RPK, like a social pervert, ‘flashes’ and displays the obscene underside of political society and begs us to stare aghast and cry foul. Bersih, via its demands for fair and clean elections, asks for nothing more than what is already guaranteed in the Constitution. Its objectives were not to show off how much it knows about the dark side of Malaysian elections but to undermine the obscene practices of a ruling regime which publicly declare one thing (i.e. fair elections) but secretly cheats.

RPK requires an exceptional way of doing and knowing things; Bersih promotes a collective and open method. RPK tells you he knows something and asks that you believe him; Bersih says it doesn’t know anything other than the fact that the election process fails to meet the standards everyone agrees on. With RPK, one doesn’t debate or have a conversation; you either believe or disbelieve him. With Bersih, debate and engagement are part-and-parcel of the process; without participation, there would be no Bersih.

A fan of RPK is essentially homogenous, fantasising about how he/she too can be as powerful a writer as RPK who himself remains the exception to the activist community i.e. he is undeniably special. On the contrary, a Bersih supporter, whilst remaining within the community called ‘Bersih’, is nevertheless heterogenous, unique, with the colour yellow and the demand for clean elections being the unifying factors. And yet each of them is special in their own way. Each of them will have their personal stories, their unique experiences.

An RPK fan is essentially a non-participating voyeur, pleasuring himself on RPK’s fantasmatic quasi-truths, with RPK being the ultimate self-pleasuring purveyor of exotic information. A Bersih sit-in protester first of all believes in something bigger than herself, then participates as if everything depended on her (which is of course the most one can ask of a participant). With RPK, it was largely him against the government, one huge public arena with minimal substantial involvement by the public. Bersih, on the other hand, elicited greater communal debate and engagement (witness the unprecedented number of personal reflections, for example).

There is detectable shift from the RPK-style logic of exception and categorical rigidity (i.e. the masculine) towards BERSIH-like openness, non-boundedness and even ‘mystery’ (i.e. the feminine) in that no 100% absolute clear ‘resolution’ avails itself. RPK’s ways of exposes may unveil many dirty little government secrets, but the process is itself cloak-and-dagger-ish. He unmasks one lie only to hide another (his own). Bersih, on the other hand, pushes for an all-out national un-masking. RPK’s logic is that of exclusivity and exception; Bersih’s is about mutuality and transparency.

It’s also telling that those who seek to attack Bersih usually revert to accusing the movement of secret conspiracies and unstated connections. E.g. Helen Ang’s insinuation that Christians are the buddy-arm of DAP seems like an RPK-ish shot a exploding a kinky national secret except, unlike RPK, she doesn’t have men in black feeding her hidden files, hence her quasi-thesis comes across as boring conspiracy and torrid sociology.

RPK is phallic, Bersih feminine. One still relies on the cover-up of fantasy, the other seeks to expose all cover-ups. RPK behaves exactly like the political personalities he exposes in his work, creating admirers who love him without questioning his methods and sources. Bersih invites everyone to work and to please mind their methods.

In this vein, the controversy over the use of Dataran Merdeka for Bersih 3.0’s protest was a struggle between covering up (via fantasy) and the uncovering (via immersion). The government’s denial by force of the protesters right to ‘occupy’ the square with peace seeks to conceal the lie that there is already a hegemonic ‘occupation’ in place. To declare, as Kuala Lumpur’s City Hall did, that the square is permitted only for “sports and cultural (entertainment) events as these events are beneficial to the public” and to reject events of a “political nature” was not just hypocrisy (as if the barring of the Square was without partisan concerns), it was also a political gesture par excellence of separating and drawing a line between domains Political and otherwise. By disallowing Bersih the use of the ‘Independence / Freedom Square’, the ‘elected representatives’ of the people are now declaring that the very people whom they represent are not permitted to independently or freely exercise their rights to gather at one of the nation’s symbolic locations of independence and liberty to demand reformation to the way people’s representatives are chosen(!).

If Dataran Merdeka itself masks the originary violence of Malaysia as a nation-state and the ruling regime’s barricade of the Square signals their defense of the national lie (and everything that the process of Independence covered up), then Bersih’s occupation of the Square’s margins points at a rhizomatic perpetual ‘keeping open’ of a gap within the nation. This is to say that an event like Bersih directs attention to the cracks within society, fissures that hegemonic powers would like to pretend don’t exist.

In terminology made popular by French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan, one could say that the government’s position – like that of most if not all political usurpers – is akin to that of the Master, seeking to name and control the symbolic order; RPK approximates that of the Pervert who delights in presenting and showing off to the public the obscenities and inherent transgression of the powers that be without seriously demanding a change; and Bersih’s role is that of the Analyst who seeks to keep open the gap, the generative, productive space which is the Real and around which perpetual circulation happens.

Finally, in speaking against Bersih 3.0, Prime Minister’s Najib Razak’s insistence that Malaysians can demonstrate but not ‘lose their senses’ paradoxically echoes what, according to Lacan, feminine jouissance (or enjoyment) is fundamentally about i.e. losing one’s self (which surely includes one’s senses) within the framework of one’s existence and by so doing reconfigure one’s reality by bringing out that which is most ‘dangerous’ at the heart of it.

If enjoyment is a key political factor, then the Malaysian’s people ‘shift’ from RPK to BERSIH is to be welcomed. This is a move away from voyeuristic esoteric knowledge towards openness, participation and solidarity. This is a shift away from masculine arrogance to feminine immersion, from a craving for private ‘secrets’ to a demand for public truth, from the fist to the flower.

And nobody except those with something to hide would feel that’s a bad thing?