Racial Discrimination in East and West Malaysia

Malaysia is split into east and west Malaysia. West is where I grew up and like many westies, when I think about Malaysia, I invariably think about west Malaysia. I often forget what it’s like in east Malaysia. This is unforgivable, seeing that I really liked places like Kuching, Miri and Sabah and that many of my great friends are from Sarawak. In fact, Sabah continues to give me great memories – mount KK was exciting and the islands at the TAR Park are gorgeous, as is the Karambrunai resort off Kota Kinabalu.

Just how different east Malaysia is from its cousins in the peninsular, came into apparent focus last Saturday night, when I met up with 2 other lawyers to chat about work and life in general. 1 of them was a Sarawakian and the other was a westie. When this westie and I talked about the discrimination we experienced in Malaysia, our eastern friend had a curious look on his face. It was apparent that he didn’t agree and thought it strange we should say that.

My father was a self-employed trader. In his younger days he’d ply his trade from a commercial vehicle, often a lorry or a commercial van. There was a chendol man (chendol is a Malaysian sweet dessert) who told me he could sell his chendol anywhere and not worry about local council enforcement agencies hounding him, as he was a Malay. If it was a Chinese selling noodles, there would be summons galore for sure. Ditto the Indian rojak seller (rojak is a Malaysian salad with spicy peanut sauce – mouth watering stuff). Whenever I buy my chendol from this Malay seller, I’d wonder what it was like when my father had to ply his trade on the streets, vending anything from soy and chilli sauce to toys and playing cards. Certainly my father in law constantly regaled how the Klang Council harass him over his textile shop on a constant basis, whereas the Malay foodstalls on the same street as his shop barely copped anything. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

When I was in primary school, if you scored 5A’s in the primary assessment exam, you stood a chance of getting into a select school in the capital. We all knew in these schools, a Chinese would be totally out-numbered by Malays. A good friend of ours went there and confirmed that to be true, not that it needed verification. The big number Malay students tend to suggest there are many of them with 5As’ but we all knew if you were a Malay, you didn’t need 5A’s to get into those schools. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

The primary school assessment exam was the first of many levels in school, where we learned we were different from the Malays not just in terms of the colour of our skin or the sort of food we ate. They could do things we couldn’t do, go places we couldn’t go. They were special. This differentiation went all the way to the University. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

When I was in University in Sydney (UNSW), I stayed in various places, as each year I would seek out cheaper rooms or flats. In my final years, I found a really cheap place – in a dilapidated backroom on top of a shop. To go to the loo, I had to get out of my room, walk down a corridor and get into the flat. I had to work to pay for my fees and my board, cheap as it was. I worked on weekends in a fish market – did it for close to 6 years. Had to be in by 5am and worked through till 5-6 pm on Saturdays and often on Sundays as well. I delivered newspapers at 5.30 in the morning 3-4 times a week, on weekdays. In between classes, I worked in the University faculty doing odd jobs – in the print room, moving furniture, etc. I worked full time in a hospital as a ward assistant during each summer, while also holding down the fish market and newspaper delivery jobs. All through this, I knew a Malay guy who lived nearby. He was alone when I first met him. He later got married and had kids. He didn’t do any part time work. While I slogged away trying to make ends meet, he was busy having babies. I earned every penny while every one of his came from the Malaysian government. I think many of us know someone like this Malay friend of mine. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

When I was working in Malaysia, I regularly drew up contracts for Chinese who used Malays to tender for contracts. Stock standard requirements in Malaysia. Every commercial lawyer in Malaysia has loan contracts, trust deeds, powers of attorney, transfer instruments, management agreements, shareholder agreements and all these other instruments locked away in a drawer somewhere, designed to protect the Chinese businessman who needed the Malay to open doors. They were known as the Ali Baba schemes. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

As a lawyer in financial institutions in Malaysia, I had also had to draw up correspondence with regulators, either telling them we have the required minimum 30% Malay staff in a given level of management, or explaining why we didn’t. I had to sit in meetings where management had to agonize over paying Malay graduates just to fill the payrolls and report to the regulators. The Malaysian Securities Commission and the KL Stock Exchange had to be satisfied that you had enough Malay licensed dealers, before they agreed to issue licenses to non-Malay dealers. Every month I had to go over the reports and come up with the requisite correspondence with the regulators. Many securities dealing companies simply employ Malay graduates to fill up the quotas and as these “staff” could not be trusted to sit at the dealing board, they were asked to perform other tasks, including clerical tasks. Some don’t even bother to show up for work. This was true when I first got involved in the securities dealing industry in 1994 and when I left it in 2004. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

When I was the Company secretary of a bank in Malaysia, I had to submit profiles of potential board candidates to Bank Negara, the regulator of banks in Malaysia. The forms invariably had Malay/Non Malay boxes which you had to tick. The more Malays you had on your board, the better you got on with the regulator, especially if these Malays were from the establishment, ie approved by the ruling party and its goons. Each board meeting is preceded by long talks about golf and women and trips abroad. They would come in their jacket and tie and know next to nothing about the industry. They wouldn’t take a second look at the minutes, resolutions, letters or contracts you drafted. They only needed a nod from their puppet masters in the ruling party to put their signatures down. In my present place, each director is an industry expert. Their contribution is quick, meaningful and weighty. They had to be interviewed by the company through a selection process. The draft you gave them would be circulated and re-worked through half a dozen times before all are happy to sign, and it all takes 2-3 days. That imbecile in that Malaysian bank would probably have taken the whole week to get to speak to his master, before returning the document to you without any questions asked, signature grandiosely and artistically penned. Why were these buffoons there? Simply because they are Malays. Didn’t my east Malaysian friend on Saturday night experience this?

The list goes on – subsidised housing, scholarships, promotions, I once foolishly got into an argument with a Malay in a parking lot. Over a car park space, obviously. I was so incensed at his “holier than thou, you migrant” attitude I told him there wasn’t yet a Malay quota for car parks, and walked off without giving in. The discrimination is so pervasive in the peninsular I wonder how my east Malaysian friend could have denied it. Maybe it is very different in the east.