Partnered Content

PEDIXS Centre (Peace, Dialogue & Xenophobia Studies Centre), in collaboration with stratsea and PASRU, will be organising a forum with the Iqbal Centre for Critical Muslim Studies of the University of Leeds on the 24th of April 2025.

On their visit to Malaysia and IIUM, we hope to explore avenues of cooperation and collaboration between the Iqbal Centre at the University of Leeds and AHAS KIRKHS to facilitate international intellectual and engagement partnership and efforts that promote tahwhidic epistemology and ummatic excellence especially in ongoing discourses on decoloniality, Islamophobia and counter-narratives relevant to Malaysia and the broader Muslim World.

The forum will be conducted physically at Al-Tabari Meeting Room (Lvl 3, HS Building), IIUM on Thursday, 24th April 2025 from 11:30 AM – 1:00 PM. Click here to register for the forum.

For participants outside of KL, Malaysia, the forum will be livestreamed on PASRU’s youtube channel.

Slave Trade

Before we begin Ya’s story, we need to tell you that Ya and her friends are not the type of slaves that we have known.

For many of us, slavery belonged to the White, Western world, especially in America, where Africans were taken from their homes to work on American and Caribbean plantations. The story we wish to tell is not Alex Haley’s Roots: The Saga of An American Family.

However, the transatlantic slave trade has dominated public imagination, knowledge and even academia. Slavery, in all its varieties and forms, has been in existence since antiquity. It seems perplexing, but, ever since, something has always compelled human beings to take each other into forced captivity. It has been a human practice since time immemorial.

This is not an attempt to justify it—nor is it necessary to provide moral justification for this abhorrent practice. To us, it is important to unpack and understand the nuances of how slavery was different in different contexts.

A loaded term, “slavery” carries so much weight and has many definitions, depending on time period, geography and perspective.

In colonial times, the Portuguese had the honour of being the first modern human traffickers, trading in hundreds of thousands of humans from the west coast of Africa for their plantations and colonies in the New World.

Such a history has not been easy to face, and Portugal has, for the most part, avoided acknowledging its “pioneering role” in establishing and participating in the transatlantic slave trade that lasted for about four centuries. Only in 2021 did Portugal install a public monument called the Memorial-Homage to the Victims of Slavery.

The lucrative trade soon saw the participation of the British, the Dutch and the Spanish. Local agents were also involved, bartering their own people for profit.Indeed, even before the arrival of Europeans, there was already an African slave trade.

For centuries, small kingdoms and large empires existed in West and Central Africa, divided along cultural and ethnic lines. Frequent conflicts led to captives who became part of the local trade system, which formed the basis for the transatlantic slave trade.

War for Profit, Profit from War

The grand ancient civilisations of Egypt, Mesopotamia, Rome, Greece and Persia had slave classes. Slaves were usually taken from enemy nations, lower classes, rural areas or even kidnapped from different lands. Some were taken to pay off debts, but most were trafficked into forced labour.

From these ancient times, Roman gladiators who were often slaves come to mind—glamorous (and glistening) fighters combatting for entertainment, their freedom and, ultimately, to return home. In reality, however, many slaves – and their families – lived, worked and died in captivity, some under hard circumstances working in construction or hard labour.

Slavery is complex—Ya and friends came to work as house servants and then were absorbed into the Malay families who took them in, eventually becoming one of them.

Ya, in fact, settled in the royal household of Sultan Muhammad II of Terengganu. She and her friends were known to be Muslims, and when they moved to Terengganu, in some ways, they masuk Melayu.

The Arab-Muslim slave trade has long been in existence, especially from Africa. Black Africans were the earliest type of slave known to Arabs. One of them, Bilal, who became the first muezzin, was an Abyssinian who was owned and freed by Abu Bakr, Prophet Muhammad’s father-in-law.

With the advent of Islam came the Arab conquests, which saw the spread of the Muslim-Arab armies to different parts of the region, from Persia to North Africa. Once they conquered the Sahara, Arab merchants bought Black Africans to be traded.

While Islam taught tolerance and the importance of knowing each other despite differences of clan and skin colour, Arabs subjugated Black Africans into slavery anyway.

Africans who were brought into slavery were sometimes bought, taken or born into it. Some were born out of unions between African mothers and Arab fathers. Some were given their freedom but mostly became Arabised and were converted to Islam. They emulated Arab language and culture and, while being subject to prejudice by elite Arabs, did contribute to medieval Islamic society.

The locals in Terengganu called Ya and her friends hamba habshi, possibly because they came from Madinah and Mecca. The Metropolitan Museum of Art explained that “… Habshi is the Arabic term for Abyssian, a nationality known today as Ethiopian. This term is used to describe the Africans who came to live in India, arriving as merchants and fishermen as well as slaves. Sidi (‘my lord’) is another Arabic term to identify the same group, but connotes an elevated status.”

Ya did tell me that her origins were from Ethiopia, which coincides with the definition above. However, she was seen as a local Meccan, as her family had settled in Mecca.

At that time, they were regarded as locals but of African origin. Identity was fluid before and now: people move to seek work and some fortune and integrate into the local landscape. (Another question that we will address in the future: what is truth and memory?)

We were told that her aunt had spoken to her parents about a good future and brought her to meet the new family. She stayed with the family and their descendants until the end of her life.

At least, that was what we were told.

—

When I first met Ya in 1996, at the entrance of the house she lived in, she had a cloth/towel on her head. Many years later, my third cousin Ku Mei and third aunt – the now deceased Tengku Halipah, whom we called Bonda Ku Ah – told me that when hamba habshi arrived in Terengganu, they took to the cloth and various versions of the selendang because they felt embarrassed by their hair. It had nothing to do with religion. I was told that one or two of them resorted to hanging durian fruit from their hair in a bid to straighten it.

Most of them took to living quietly and in the shadows, even if they were popular with the locals, because they knew they looked different. Their skin was darker. They were tall too. Ya and another lived with their adoptive families, while the others lived and worked in the royal fortress—Dalam Kota Istana Maziah.

The cursory Malay(sian) reader may find this as positive ammunition for populism: Ya and friends had assimilated into this new, strange society, where Islam and Malayness were upheld, but when the team and I heard this, it broke our hearts. They were so young then – they had not even reached puberty when they reached Singapore and Terengganu – and had to figure  out assimilation as well as acculturation on their own. That they had this awareness of how different they were from the new country they lived and died in is heartbreaking.

When we met in 2006, Ya asked me if I was the writer-granddaughter of my grandparents, and whether I knew who she really was. When I offered that I thought she was a tall Indian woman, she laughed.

“Patik dulu… hamba. hamba habshi.  Pelawok budok ni sunggoh. Patik bukang orang India. Dari Mesir! Afrika!” Ya remarked. (I was… hamba. Hamba habshi. You are such a joker! I’m not Indian. I’m from Egypt! Africa!”).

What struck me when we conversed were two things: she spoke fluently in the Terengganu dialect and in Bahasa Istana (the palace language). I then called out for my mother, who had entered the kitchen, and motioned for her to join us.

While my mother spoke to the other inhabitants of the house, Ya and I stayed in the back. I was entranced by her: she was tall, lanky and most animated. She told me I had to write a film about her life—she loved films and wanted to be an actress. She made me promise in the back of the kitchen – an amanah – to tell her story to the world.

She stood up, waving her arms in the air, with her sleeves rolled back to her elbows. Her arms were the colour of dark chocolate and the skin was almost parchment-like, with deep creases I fancied as details of life. Age. I was struck by the fairness of her palms and said so. She smiled and said it was because she took wudhu (ablution) all the time.

“Ye lah. Patik kuak semayang. Ni kalu ambik wuduk sokmo, kulit ceroh. Same dengan selawat. Baca banyok banyok kali pah tu usap muka. [Ber]seri.” (Of course. I pray all the time. This is what happens if you always take ablution: your skin will shine. Same with reciting salawat. Do that a lot and then rub your face. It would glow).

This is how Ya sounded. This is a snippet from an hour-long audio.

Enslavement in Malay Society

Understanding the lives of slaves within the royal household encompasses several key elements. Firstly, it requires contextualising the practice of slavery within the Malay world, considering its religious, cultural and class dimensions. Secondly, tracing the movement of slaves from their places of origin to their destinations is essential for gaining insight into their experiences. Finally, it is important to consider the nuances of their lives within the domestic sphere, where strong familial ties often played a significant role.

In the Malay world, slavery was practiced, but its definition and concept differ from Western understanding. Slavery in Southeast Asia (including in the Malay world) is fascinating to observe. This is because of the interaction between various concepts of slavery, such as Islam, Hinduism, Chinese, European and local beliefs.

The institution of slavery was a societal practice that had been observed in the region since the time of the Malacca Sultanate. Slaves symbolised the influence and wealth of a nobleman during that era. The more slaves a nobleman owned, the higher his status in society and the stronger his economic position.

For example, Tun Mutahir owned so many slaves that he himself did not recognise the slaves he acquired. This indicates the vast wealth he obtained, surpassing even the wealth of Sultan Mahmud Syah of Malacca. Occupying the lowest stratum of society, they could not act according to their own desires because they were controlled by rules and orders determined by their owners (masters).

However, slavery in the context of the Malay world is not solely seen in terms of economics and slaves as property. Practices resembling slavery in the Malay world are more focused on the concept of indebtedness.

The concept of indebtedness in the Malay world extends beyond monetary debt. According to Gullick, the concept of indebtedness in the Malay world encompasses economic interests. “It is clear… that debt-bondage, although in the form of an economic institution, was in substance a very mixed complex of several elements. The Chief acquired and retained bondsmen as a means of augmenting his power and prestige. The bondsman might expect the creditor to provide him with a wife….”

For Malay royalty and aristocrats, the institution of slavery played a role in contributing labour to the economy and granting status to their masters.

Slaves can be divided into three main groups: hamba raja (royal slaves), hamba hutang (debt-slaves) and hamba abdi (abdi slaves).

Originally, hamba raja were disobedient individuals such as prisoners of war or convicts who committed crimes but were successfully apprehended and later pardoned by the raja. The status of hamba raja is higher compared to other slaves. This group receives special legal status compared to other slaves. Fasal Ke-lapan dalam Undang-undang Melaka states that the law for killing hamba raja should be reverted back to the killer.

They receive protection from the government and are also known as biduanda, dayang-dayang, beti-beti, and perwara (female slaves). Hamba raja and their descendants perpetually served their royal masters.

There is more, but we will continue in the next few chapters of this story.

The GKC Collective is seeking funds for the Malaysia leg of research. Please contact us at gongkapaspictures@gmail.com

Introduction

The Democratic Action Party (DAP) has long been a dominant force in Malaysia’s political landscape, particularly among the urban and ethnic Chinese electorate.

Founded in 1966, it advocates a centre-left, social democratic platform and was historically associated with the “Malaysian Malaysia” slogan – championing equal rights regardless of ethnicity.

For decades, it functioned as a principal opposition force against the long-ruling Barisan Nasional (BN) coalition and, more specifically, against the Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA), BN’s Chinese-based component party.

DAP’s confrontational stance and vocal defence of Chinese education and civil liberties earned it both staunch support among Chinese voters and criticism as being anti-Malay or anti-Islam.

In recent years, however, DAP has transitioned from its traditional oppositionist posture to a key partner in Malaysia’s ruling coalition under Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim’s Madani government. Meanwhile, its recent internal election signifies DAP’s evolving ideological identity and strategic repositioning, particularly in relation to ethnic representation and governance.

New Election, New Era

DAP concluded what is arguably the most intense internal party election in its history on 16 March 2025.

There are three noteworthy points to be analysed.

First, the results mark a symbolic end to the era dominated by the Lim family, signalling a generational transition in leadership and political strategy.

The most notable development was the removal of Lim Guan Eng from his position as national chairman—a shift popularly described within the party as “sending off the god”.

Lim, who served as secretary general from 2004 to 2022, barely retained his seat in the 30-member Central Executive Committee (CEC), placing 26^th out of 30. His sister, Lim Hui Ying – Malaysia’s Deputy Finance Minister – failed to secure reelection despite the existence of a female candidate quota.

Other close allies of the Lim faction, such as Teresa Kok (MP for Seputeh, Kuala Lumpur Territory) and Lim Lip Eng (MP for Kepong, Kuala Lumpur Territory), were similarly defeated.

In the run-up to the election, the Lim family launched a “Kit Siang’s birthday tour” to galvanise grassroots support for Guan Eng’s continued leadership—a move interpreted as a pre-emptive bid to maintain influence amid waning support, yet it does not seem to be working out in favour of Lim’s family.

Gobind Singh Deo, son of the late party icon Karpal Singh, received the highest number of votes for the second consecutive election and was appointed as the new party chairman.

The secretary general role remains with Anthony Loke, who is also Malaysia’s Minister of Transport. He has formally succeeded Lim Guan Eng in 2022.

This leadership reshuffle effectively ends the Lim dynasty’s hold over the party. For context, Lim Kit Siang, the family patriarch, served as secretary general for 30 years and as chairman for an additional five years until his retirement in 2022.

Table 1. List of the newly elected CEC members, their ages and the votes obtained

Second, the election outcomes do not only represent a shift away from the Lim family but also indicate a broader generational and ideological renewal within the party.

The new CEC is largely composed of MPs or State Assembly representatives in their 30s and 40s, many of whom grew up during DAP’s rise to national prominence and tasted political power during the party’s brief stint in government (2018–2020).

This younger cohort is more open to engaging Malay voters directly and is working to project a more inclusive, multiracial image. Their multilingual capabilities and cross-ethnic social networks enhance DAP’s strategic goal of becoming a truly Malaysian party.

The rebranding is particularly significant in combatting long-standing accusations of Chinese chauvinism and in adapting to Malaysia’s deeply communal political terrain.

Third, a significant milestone in this party election is the inclusion of two Malay leaders – Syahredzan Johan (MP for Bangi, Selangor state) and Young Syefura Othman (MP for Bentong, Pahang state) – in the CEC. They garnered 2,065 and 1,943 votes, respectively. Syahredzan was appointed as one of the party’s four vice chairmen, while Young Syefura became assistant publicity secretary.

In previous party elections, Young Syefura was the sole Malay representative in the leadership. The dual election of Malay leaders signals DAP’s strategic recalibration: it recognises that it could no longer rely solely on urban, Chinese-majority constituencies. As many as 96% of Chinese voted for DAP in the 2022 general election, whereas only 18% of Malays voted for DAP.

While no official data exists on DAP’s Malay membership, Syahredzan has already announced efforts to recruit more Malay members and voters. These appointments reflect the party’s understanding of the demographic and electoral imperatives of a Malay-dominated society—and an electoral system that rewards broad-based, interethnic appeal.

Between Muting and Maturing

As DAP transitions to a new generation of leadership, the party faces a delicate balancing act: sustaining the loyalty of its traditional Chinese support base while expanding its appeal among Malay and other non-Chinese voters. This requires not only a shift in rhetoric but also demonstrable commitment to inclusive governance and coalition pragmatism.

Moreover, the party’s entry into the unity government has already been met with mixed reactions, particularly from its core Chinese electorate. While the party continues to enjoy overwhelming Chinese support, it has been notably subdued on issues historically central to its platform—such as Chinese vernacular education and minority rights. Critics have even labelled it “a silent party”.

Hence, the party’s current dilemma is how to avoid becoming an “MCA 2.0”—a euphemism for being seen as compliant or ineffective within a Malay-majority government.

Being in power means DAP can no longer simply critique from the sidelines; it must deliver tangible results. If it fails, it risks losing credibility and electoral support.

Nevertheless, the prospect of Chinese voters shifting back to MCA remains unlikely. A more probable outcome would be voter apathy and abstention.

The deeper challenge lies in how DAP balances its “Malaysian Malaysia” ideals within the constraints of Malaysia’s racially stratified political landscape. Its transition from antagonist to conformist illustrates the compromises required under coalition governance. Whether DAP can maintain ideological clarity while expanding its electoral reach remains to be seen.

In short, DAP’s future depends on whether it can reconcile its activist roots with the compromises of coalition politics without losing the ideological clarity that once defined it. If it can achieve this balance, DAP may yet complete its transformation into a truly national party with multiracial appeal. If not, it risks fading into the same irrelevance that befell the very parties it once opposed.

Introduction

After years of debate, Indonesia’s military law, which was first enacted back in 2004, is officially revised. This process, however, seems rushed and lacks clarity.

The legislative discussion, which was not even a prioritised item in the national legislative programme, was conducted behind closed doors without adequate meaningful public participation, contrary to the prevailing norms in a democratic system.

The rushed deliberation process, coupled with the fact that it took place in a luxurious five-star hotel, raised suspicions about the government’s motives. This is compounded with the fact that officers of Tentara Nasional Indonesia (TNI) and Kepolisian Negara Republik Indonesia (Polri) were deployed to guard the House of Representatives compound, complete with dozens of tactical vehicles, a day before the plenary session.

Rushed Revision

Even more problematic is that the revision process was held in the midst of President Prabowo Subianto’s budget cuts to finance his ambitious programmes and promises.

The points included in the revised law are not entirely negative. For example, the addition of the phrase “military diplomacy” should be appreciated, as it justifies an increase in TNI’s international cooperation with its regional and international counterparts. This is especially important at a time when global security dynamics are highly uncertain, as signified by President Donald Trump’s mercurial policies and the response from the rest of the world.

Additionally, expanding TNI’s primary task to include operations other than war – such as cybersecurity operations and protection of overseas citizens – demonstrates TNI’s ability to adapt to the evolving nature of threats.

Concerns abound nonetheless. The expansion of TNI’s duties, such as in the field of counternarcotics, could easily overlap with the jurisdictions of Polri and Badan Narkotika Nasional (the National Narcotics Agency – BNN). Although counter-narcotics was finally excluded from the list of military operations other than war, BNN is still cited as one of the bodies that can be occupied by active TNI personnel. This is clearly contradictory and has opened the potential for multiple interpretations in the future.

There are also missed opportunities. The government, for instance, could have pushed for the establishment of a cyber force to complement the works of the army, navy and air force – an imperative in the wake of the hacking scandal targeting TNI’s Strategic Intelligence Agency. Additionally, the establishment of a space unit within the air force could improve TNI’s ability to safeguard Indonesia’s national airspace.

Controversies

Unfortunately, the focus of the law’s revision was not on the technical areas that would improve TNI’s professionalism and combat readiness.

One of the most controversial aspects of the revision is Article 47, which significantly expands TNI’s authority to place active personnel in civilian positions. The number of ministries and institutions that can be occupied by active TNI personnel has now increased from 10 to 14.

The government justified this by pointing out that several ministries and institutions, such as Badan Keamanan Laut (the Maritime Security Agency – Bakamla), Badan Nasional Penanggulangan Terorisme (the National Counter Terrorism Agency – BNPT) and others, have long been occupied by active TNI personnel.

Even though various government representatives have expressed assurances that the placement of active TNI personnel in civilian positions would be strictly regulated, the public needs to remain cautious, given that Prabowo ordered a management and business course for active duty soldiers to prepare them for roles in both state-owned and regional-owned enterprises.

Furthermore, the government’s one-sided claim that assigning active TNI personnel to civilian positions could alleviate human resource shortages is also questionable. This argument appears weak and suggests the government lacks a real solution to the surplus of TNI personnel.

Previous administrations explored various avenues to address this particular issue, such as the establishment of the Defence University and the expansion of TNI’s organisation. Prabowo has also pursued another option – increasing the number of TNI figures in his cabinet.

However, these solutions have often resulted in policies that contradict the principles of reform, such as placing high-ranking officers in non-military positions without removing their military status.

Furthermore, the government’s insistence on extending the age for active service is counterproductive. For one, this is pursued without instituting a moratorium on recruitment. Worse, it could afford Prabowo an undue influence, particularly over four-star generals. This appears to be politically motivated and could seriously hinder TNI’s meritocracy principle.

Challenges to Military Administration

In fact, even without the law revision, TNI personnel have been holding civilian positions for quite some time. As many as 2,569 active personnel are already serving in civilian roles, with 29 of them holding positions in ministries or institutions not stipulated under the old TNI law.

It is unfair that job opportunities available for civilians must shrink to accommodate TNI personnel who are stuck in their careers due to a surplus of military personnel. Evidently, this would also disrupt the career paths of civilian employees in the institutions they are serving.

Rather than revising the TNI law, it seems more urgent to revise the military court law in order to uphold equality before the law and ensure fair trials.

An ongoing problem is when active TNI personnel who hold civilian positions are involved in criminal offences—they are still processed in military courts, not public courts. This hampers the legal process because of the different characteristics between military and public courts, particularly in terms of independence, transparency and accountability.

The polemic between the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) and TNI regarding the arrest of the former head of Badan Nasional Pencarian dan Pertolongan (the National Search and Rescue Agency – Basarnas) offers a chaotic picture surrounding law enforcement on TNI personnel.

Meanwhile, military courts trying corruption cases involving TNI personnel do not apply as strict legal processes and pass more lenient sentences compared to those in the corruption courts.

The military criminal procedure law mentioned above is not the only problem; the military administrative procedure law is equally problematic. The main issue is the lack of procedural laws governing military administration and institutional structures to examine, address and settle disputes in this area.

Although the military court law mandates that such procedural laws be established through a government regulation within three years of the law’s enactment (the military court law was enacted in 1997), there has been a 25-year legal vacuum in this regard. This gap reveals a troubling reality: all TNI legal products cannot be challenged, leading to a system of impunity.

Conclusion

Despite the controversy, TNI remains the most trusted and popular in Indonesia. Many Indonesians view TNI as a versatile problem solver. This high public trust is due to the fact that TNI is considered capable or sufficiently distanced from political or civil affairs. For those who grew up under Suharto’s authoritarian regime, TNI’s involvement in socio-political affairs is also seen as necessary and natural.

However, if its role continues to expand, there is a fear that it would alienate this public trust, which could backfire on TNI itself.

This recent, heated public debate could have been avoided if the government had been more transparent about the revision process. The government’s response to civil society’s strong rejection, claiming that the draft being circulated was not the one under discussions, highlights its poor public communication and a lack of transparency—both of which go against the principles of meaningful public participation.

If the government is serious about enhancing TNI’s professionalism, there are more effective steps it could undertake. The proposed revision, which focuses on extending the service period of active TNI personnel and granting them access to civilian positions, is both a shortcut and a lazy solution.

Instead, the government should focus on the welfare of TNI soldiers and modernise its weaponry system. TNI’s performance allowance currently accounts for only 70% of salary, which is lower compared to other institutions like Polri (80%) or the Ministry of Finance (100%).

More pressing is the task to modernise TNI’s weaponry system, considering Indonesia’s failure to meet its Minimum Essential Forces target by the end of 2024.

As for the surplus of personnel, rather than expanding their authority to fill civilian roles, the government should implement a moratorium on TNI recruitment or at least review its current practices. Another option is to increase TNI participation in peacekeeping missions and send more personnel abroad for educational purposes.

Understanding Trump’s Tactics

In the first few weeks since his inauguration, President Donald Trump followed through on his campaign promises to impose tariffs on other countries.

Initially, his administration imposed 25% tariffs on goods from Canada and Mexico – except for energy imports from Canada at 10% – plus additional 10% tariffs on all Chinese products coming into the United States.

The media and pundits quickly signalled the return of Trump’s trade war. However, it is worth considering that Trump’s imposition of high tariffs is not an end in itself – it is part and parcel of his psychological warfare with other countries.

This was demonstrated when Trump decided to delay the tariffs on Canada and Mexico after “fruitful” discussions with both countries’ leaders. In this regard, tariffs should be understood simply as an economic tool to achieve the United States’ national interests, though critics have decried and deemed it illegal.

Trump’s co-written book The Art of the Deal gives an insight into his aggressive and assertive negotiation tactics in doing business, which he has applied to his political game as well. This negotiation style involves setting the initial terms aggressively – terms which may be bold and ambitious – to set the standard and tone of the negotiations around this reference point.

This is called the anchoring tactic, though he likes to impose extreme terms to turn the negotiations in his favour. His recent ordeals with Mexico and Canada exemplify this – he has also issued follow-up threats of increased tariffs should these countries retaliate.

Trump understands that his unpredictability has given him an advantage over others, thus making his threats more effective. He succeeded; following these salvo of threats, Canada and Mexico agreed to address the issue of drug smuggling and illegal immigration in exchange for a one-month pause in tariffs.

Unlike his first term – which saw him imposing tariffs on others and allowing negotiations only after some time had passed – this time he had reached an agreement with Canada and Mexico before any real actions were taken.

This is exactly what Trump hopes to achieve. He is using aggressive tactics by instilling fear and unpredictability to get what he wants before really starting a tariff war. In fact, a tariff war might be something that he does not desire after all, as it would cause inflation in the United States.

Sun Tzu might have approved – in The Art of War,he postulated that a “skillful leader subdues the enemy’s troops without any fighting.”

Past Lessons

As this is his second and last presidency, Trump understands that he is running out of time to achieve his political agenda. He hopes to quickly achieve concessions that others will make in exchange for not imposing high tariffs.

Although Trump has toyed with the idea of running for a third term, the odds are almost zero. The US Constitution limits a person from getting elected more than twice as a president and it would be very difficult to amend the constitution because of its rigidity.

Constitutional expert Bruce Fein argues that one possible way for Trump to hold on to power is by disregarding the law, though this is very unlikely to happen given that the United States has a long democratic tradition that provides checks and balances. A case in point: Trump’s bid to hold onto power after he lost the 2020 election was unsuccessful.

Even more important is that Trump seemed to have learned lessons from his first presidency.

After a years-long trade war with China, Trump concluded his Phase One trade deal successfully. This trade deal appeared to be a massive victory for the United States, as China pledged to protect intellectual property rights and agreed to purchase more goods from the United States to correct the trade imbalance between both countries. However, China failed to fulfil its obligations under the Phase One trade deal.

Trump is not keen to repeat this mistake, which could explain why Trump would want to achieve concessions as soon as possible.

He is using this plan of reciprocal tariffs as a bargaining tool for countries to reduce tariffs or eliminate non-tariff barriers.

A recent poll run by Reuters showed that over 90% of economists believe that the rapidly shifting trade policies would increase the likelihood of a recession, which could lead to unintended consequences of Trump’s own doing. This is a situation that Trump would want to avoid.

Weeks before he unveiled his “Liberation Day” plan, Trump also announced the imposition of 25% tariffs on all aluminium and steel imported to the United States without any exceptions or exemptions.

Interestingly, after a phone call with Australia’s prime minister, Trump said that an exemption for Australia is under consideration, given that Australia is one of the few countries with which the United States has a trade surplus. Such statements have sent an ambiguous signal to other countries, thus prompting countries such as South Korea to also request exemptions.

Trump also managed to extract concessions from India and Japan, both of which promised to buy more goods from the United States. Before the meeting with Trump, Modi announced that India would cut import tariffs on selected products. Following the meeting between both leaders, India agreed to buy more energy from the United States, thus aligning with Trump’s goal to make the United States the leading energy supplier.

Trump’s tariff tactic would be a mainstay in his administration – his unveiling of a base 10% global tariff on the rest of the world suggests he is willing to play this long, uncomfortable game with both allies and enemies alike.

Trial and Error

However, this kind of psychological tactic may not always work.

The United States and China were unable to come to an agreement and have since led to China’s quid pro quo levies. While the Chinese do not want to back down from the trade tensions with the United States, news reports from early March showed that Trump might visit China in April to hammer out a deal. This indicated that Trump might not be interested in fighting a tariff war.

Though the prospect of Trump visiting China has been dampened by Chinese countermeasures against his recently announced global tariff plan, he responded by threatening to further increase tariffs on China by 50%, in addition to the recently announced 34% tariffs as part of the Liberation Day plan. This led to over 100% cumulative tariffs on Chinese goods exported to the United States.

Due to the price and quality competitiveness of Chinese products, Chinese products are not easily replaceable. Since American consumers have to bear the brunt and inflation is expected to rise, Trump will be put in a difficult position, potentially prompting a revision to his tariff policies.

Impacts to Southeast Asia

Trump announced his Liberation Day global tariff plan on 2 April 2025, a drastic move that caused stock markets across the globe to tumble. A baseline of 10% tariffs on all exports to the United States are imposed, but all Southeast Asian countries are levied different rates of tariffs depending on their trade balance with the United States.

Cambodia and Laos are slapped with the highest tariffs (at 49% and 48%, respectively), followed by Vietnam (46%), Myanmar (44%), Thailand (36%), Indonesia (32%), Malaysia and Brunei (24%), the Philippines (17%) and finally Singapore (10%).

Barely a day after the new regime came into effect, however, Trump announced a 90-day pause on tariffs for 75 countries, including those in ASEAN. This hard reverse adds on to the psychological pressure that Trump aims to impose on leaders of other nations.

Before the Liberation Day announcement, ASEAN countries had diverse responses to the ongoing situation. Vietnam was already restless and expressing willingness to purchase more US agricultural products, open its market to US investments and refrain from imposing retaliatory measures. Thailand, on the other hand, was seen to be slow in responding to the trade issue and had no clear negotiation strategy, which was a great concern for the private sector in Thailand.

The Philippines and Malaysia appeared more optimistic, holding the opinion that the United States’ tariff policies have less direct implications on them. Both believed that they should maximise the existing regional trade agreements and diversify their trade partners in light of the steps pursued by the Trump administration.

Needless to say, the announcement must have sent massive shocks across the region, especially to countries with no concrete strategy and response plan.

Moving forward, ASEAN countries need to understand that Trump’s end goal is not to have a tariff war with the rest of the world. The United States is simply using threats of tariffs to force other countries – particularly those who have trade deficits with the United States – to reduce or remove tariffs and non-tariff barriers.

If this is a psychological war, how should Southeast Asian countries respond to it?

In such a setting, it is never a good idea to fully accede to the demands, as it would only lead to more concessions. We have seen, for example, how Vietnam’s good offer to the United States was being rejected.

Instead, countries should preserve their autonomy and continue to engage with the United States to get a mutually beneficial deal. A good instance is how the president of Mexico handled Trump – she kept a “cool head” and persuaded Trump with evidence that the deployment of Mexican soldiers to the borders has slowed down the flow of fentanyl.

Such a diplomatic approach led to praises from Trump and also to Trump’s decision to reverse some of the tariffs. Though Trump also reversed some of the tariffs on Canada, Trump continues to target its prime minister due to the latter’s more aggressive approach.

As ASEAN chair this year, Malaysia bears a huge responsibility to ensure that ASEAN has a united and coordinated response towards the trade issue. Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim has engaged some ASEAN leaders and called for a united front against this challenge.

If ASEAN is divided and chooses to negotiate bilaterally with the United States, the deals that each member secures would be different, potentially benefiting the United States more than ASEAN collectively. In the negotiation, ASEAN must present the hard facts to the United States, showing that the tariffs would not only harm ASEAN but would also be equally damaging to the US economy. If it is indeed psychological warfare, then ASEAN needs to know that it goes both ways.

Introduction

In late October 2024, rumours circulated in Bangkok’s diplomatic circle that Thailand would hand over the remaining 48 Uyghurs in a Thai prison and Immigration Detention Centers to China in February 2025. Despite strong objections from the international community and human rights groups, this was seen as a “gift” from Thailand to China to commemorate the 50^th anniversary of diplomatic relations.

Former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra was the brain behind this idea. As the father of the current prime minister and the nominal head of a powerful political machine dominating Thailand’s political scene for more than two decades, nobody stood in his way. Reasons as to why the previous government led by General Prayuth Chan-ocha did not deport the Uyghurs did not seem to matter.

If anything, Prayuth was in a better position to do so. Being the chief of the junta behind the 2014 coup that ousted Thaksin’s sister – Yingluck – from power, his government was at first isolated by the West, particularly the United States. The isolation pushed Thailand closer to China, leading to, among others, an important submarine deal.

What Happened to the Detainees?

The Prayut administration did not know what they were waiting for, but they played that waiting game and kept the Uyghurs in Thai detention centres. They knew that a deportation would invite the wrath of the international community, potentially isolating Thailand further.

Adding to the drama was a jailbreak (some said it was assisted by officials) at the Songkhla detention centre in November 2017, where 25 Uyghurs escaped from to make their way to Malaysia. The Malaysian government later resettled them in Turkey. Beijing raised a stink, but bilateral ties normalised quickly because China needed Malaysia’s support for its Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Besides, no Malaysian leader was about to compromise his standing in the Muslim world.

Thailand, on the other hand, was not exactly a champion of anything.

The 40 Uyghur who were sent back to China on 27 February 2024 by the Thai government were part of some 220 men, women and children who were caught on the Thailand-Malaysia border in March 2014 as they were about to cross into Malaysia (scores of others were arrested in separate occasions around the same time period).

Shortly afterwards, about 170 women and children were resettled in Turkey, but around 100 men were transferred to the Chinese authorities a week later.

Worse, the following month (17 August 2015) saw suspected Uyghur terrorists bomb the Erawan Shrine in the heart of Bangkok, killing 20 and injuring 125. The shrine is popular among Chinese visitors, who made up the majority of the dead and wounded.

The remaining 50 or so Uyghurs were charged with illegal entry and served their jail time; afterward, they remained in Thailand’s detention centres under no clear justification other than the lack of political will to take decisive actions on the leaders’ part. Some had passed away due to illness, while five were serving prison time for attacking security guards as they were escaping detention.

Between the United States and China

China never let up with their demand for Thailand to deport the rest. To avoid further headaches, Thai law enforcement was told not to detain any Uyghur coming through the country. They were told to direct any incoming Uyghurs to Malaysia.

Thaksin came afterwards with his quirky ambition to be some sort of a statesman and perhaps the first among equals – in the eye of China. He and his long-time associate, Foreign Minister Maris Sangiampongsa, were tone-deaf to the international community from the start to the last minute, even as US Senator Marco Rubio was going through a Senate hearing to confirm his appointment as the US Secretary of State.

“Thailand is a very strong US partner, a strong historical ally,” Rubio said during his Senate hearing on 15 January 2025. “That is an area where I think diplomacy could really achieve results because of how important that relationship is and how close it is.” Or so he thought.

Rubio, a leading critic of Beijing, co-sponsored the 2021 Uyghur Forced Labor Prevention Act, which bans imports from Xinjiang unless free of forced labour. His stance on human rights in China has subjected him to Chinese sanctions since 2020.

It appeared that the Thailand government did not care about what Rubio had to say. Even if they did, it probably would not matter, as Thaksin was already set on his effort to please the Chinese.

On 14 March 2025, Rubio hit back and announced “visa restrictions on current and former officials from the Government of Thailand responsible for, or complicit in, the forced return of 40 Uyghurs from Thailand on February 27.”

One day before the US order on visa restrictions, the European Parliament condemned the deportation and “urges Thailand to halt any further forced returns to countries where people’s lives are at risk.”

The resolution also urged Thailand to reform its lèse majesté law (Article 112) and called on the European Commission to “leverage free trade agreement negotiations to press Thailand to reform the country’s lese-majesty law, release political prisoners, halt the deportation of Uyghur refugees, and to ratify all core International Labour Organization (ILO) conventions.”

China was quick to hit back but directed its comment to Washington. “On the one hand, the US engages in indiscriminate deportations of illegal immigrants, yet, on the other, it points fingers at and smears other countries’ legitimate law enforcement cooperation, imposes sanctions, and pressures others,” said China’s Foreign Ministry spokeswoman, Mao Ning, describing the United States’ actions as “typical bullying”.

While the fear among human rights activists that the remaining Uyghurs would be deported to China did not subside, it was not until January 2025 that everybody sensed something was not right; a group of Thai government officials visited the Uyghur detainees and politely asked them if they would like to return to China voluntarily. They were asked to sign the deportation paper, which they rejected outright.

Words of the meeting got out and the activists as well as opposition parties responded in full force, demanding an explanation from the government. Some of the detainees staged a hunger strike to protest what they saw as a ploy to get them to agree on the deportation.

The situation had gone quiet and the Uyghurs ended their hunger strike. Then, on 27 February 2025, it was rumoured that the Immigration Police were preparing to deport the Uyghur detainees. Reporters and activists went to the detention centre in Bangkok where they were held, but as the vehicles pulled out of the station, reporters were blocked. The rest was history.

Dumbstruck by Rubio’s harsh responses, Thailand insisted that the deportation was voluntary despite evidence to the contrary.

Raised Questions

A trip was organised for a group of journalists to tag along with Thai ministers to Xinjiang to visit the returnees. Observers said it was a sham, but the government insisted that it was not.

According to photos released by the government, the deportees were united with their relatives – but their immediate family members were sent to Turkey by Thai authorities over a decade ago.

Critics and activists came out in full force, particularly the Malay Muslims in the southernmost provinces who had looked up to Justice Minister Thawee Sodsong and considered him to be one of their own, especially as one of the leaders of a political party from the region. They had hoped that he would stand up against the deportation of the Uyghur detainees.

Asmadee Bueheng, a writer from Pattani, said that for Thai and Malay activists, deportation was about human rights. However, for local Islamic leaders, it was about Muslims being mistreated.

Moreover, many Thais wrongly assumed that the government, being democratically elected, would be more sympathetic to the voices of human rights activists. They felt let down, especially those who had given the government the benefit of the doubt for changing their words on military and constitutional reforms.

Concluding Thoughts

For the time being, officials in Bangkok are putting on a brave face, playing down Washington’s sanctions on government officials. However, it was nothing less than a major embarrassment, considering the fact that the two countries are treaty allies. This is not to mention the fact that Washington was quick to point out to Bangkok the repeated offers to resettle the Uyghur.

The United States has in the past imposed sanctions on Thailand, suspending military aid after coups. This marked the first time that the sanction targeted government officials, although the United States has not identified these individuals. How this will affect the bilateral ties between these so-called longstanding allies, on the other hand, remains to be seen. However, there is no indication that the sanction will slow down Thaksin and his quest to steer Thailand in the direction that serves his personal and political ambitions.

Partnered Content

Assalamu’alaikum and greetings!

CCIGE is pleased to invite you to our upcoming Webinar Session via Zoom. Come and join us for an engaging and insightful discussion with Dr. Zouhir Gabsi. The session will be opened and moderated by Assoc. Prof. Dr. Danial Yusof (Director, CCIGE).

 Date: Thursday, April 10, 2025

 Time: 11:30 AM (Kuala Lumpur Time)

 Platform: Zoom

 Join Zoom Meeting:
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Promoted Content

GK Pictures is a collective of researchers and creators who wish to bring Ya’s story to life. We are seeking support and funds for research that will take the team around the country, Europe and the Middle East prior to production. You may contact us at gongkapaspictures@gmail.com.

Introduction

In the tome Terengganu Darul Iman 1881-1936, written by Muhammad Yusoff Hashim, he wrote:

                Bersuka-sukaan di sana ia

                dua tiga orang matinya sahaya

                dibeli pula yang maha mulia

                beberapa cariat muda belia.

                Kulitnya hitam warna gelat

                berkilat pandang seperti shakhalat

                kedua mata putihnya bulat

                rambut seperti di sarang ulat.

                Gemar melihat mahkota negeri

                kulitnya hitam tiada berperi

                diajar pelayan di dalam qasri

                sangat dikasih muda bestari.

                Tiadalah hamba memanjangkan cerita

                di sana tidak lama sang nata

                lepas mengambil haji yang nyata

                kembalilah ia semua serta.

                Di negeri Terengganu tempat sedia

                menderulah datang hamba dan sahaya

                serta kaum kerabat dia

                mengunjungi datang di tanah bahagia.

Hashim wrote about the arrival of dark-skinned slaves, who aroused the curiosity and later acceptance from Terengganu locals. Was this just a story, or were there bondsmen from the Middle East and Africa who lived in the state?

–

When I was a child, my holidays in Gong Kapas, Terengganu, were marked by imaginary adventures or passive curiosity of the neighbourhood. I would stay with my grandparents and their youngest children – and of course my mother – while my father worked abroad. As I grew older, any holiday or reason to go back to Terengganu would see us there.

At that time, in the 1970s and 80s, Gong Kapas was green and lush. My late grandparents’ home was covered with mango and rambutan trees, and behind the house was a wall with an opening to the house behind us. Cats and kittens scampered about. From time to time, goats sauntered in and out of the compound. My late grandmother employed quite a number of maids and help who cooked, massaged, and observed the goings-on in the house. The people from the back of the house trooped into Toknda’s house too to exchange gossip, news and – of course – food.

I was quite young that time, but I was always at the back of the house, because the cats and food were there. My babysitter and the maids would congregate to talk about their men and ghosts. Occasionally, a tall, dark-skinned woman would pop her head in, speak softly, and leave. We never spoke. But I remembered that my cousin, Nadia, would go over to the house behind; she was friendly with the tall lady. That was all I knew of her.

—

By 2006, I was in my mid-20s. I visited Terengganu a lot while my grandparents were still alive. One evening, I was in the garden – which was now a rather strange rock garden – and went inside for a drink. That was when I saw the tall lady, waving at me from outside her window, motioning to me to meet her. I left the kitchen to meet her at the back entrance of her home, thinking throughout the whole process about how very tall she was.

She asked me if I was the grandchild of (now deceased) Tengku Asmak, who was a writer. I nodded.

She asked me to come into her house. In her spare kitchen, she asked me if I knew who and what she was. I shook my head. I only knew that she was called Ya and I assumed she was a very tall Indian Muslim.

She smiled and told me she was an African slave, who came from Mecca.

Terengganu in Brief

To understand Terengganu is to understand its history, which scholars such as the abovementioned Yusoff Hashim have explored in detail.

In his book Terengganu Darul Iman: Tradisi Pensejarahan Malaysia, he describes Terengganu’s geographical challenges that include strong north-east monsoon winds, rough seas and annual floods. These natural conditions shaped the livelihoods of its people, with fishing, skilled labour and farming being the primary occupations. In 1921, the population stood at 66,135, increasing to 95,800 by 1931, with Terengganu town housing around 12,453 residents.

The Terengganu Sultanate traces its origins back to the 18^th century, with 17 sultans ruling since its inception. Mubin Sheppard (1949) details its founding, linking it to Johor’s Bendahara dynasty. In 1718, Sultan Abdul Jalil of Johor was exiled by Raja Kechil, who claimed descent from Malacca’s Sultan Mahmud Mangkat Dijulang. Sultan Abdul Jalil took refuge in Terengganu but was assassinated in 1721. His son, Tengku Sulaiman, allied with Bugis warrior Daeng Perani to reclaim Johor. According to Tuhfat Al-Nafis, Sultan Sulaiman, with Bugis support, appointed his uncle, Tun Zainal Abidin, as Terengganu’s first sultan in 1725.

Patani tradition states that he fled to Patani after his adoptive father, Wan Derahman, was wrongly executed and was sheltered by the ruling Queen Nang Chayam. During Sultan Abdul Jalil’s visit to Patani, an agreement was made to divide Johor’s territories, with Terengganu assigned to Tun Zainal Abidin. After Abdul Jalil’s death, Patani honoured the deal, sending Tun Zainal Abidin and 80 Patani families to Terengganu, where he was installed as sultan. He further strengthened ties by marrying the queen’s cousin, Che Puan Besar. The settlement, Kampong Patani, still exists today.

One of the most well-known rulers was Sultan Zainal Abidin III who ruled from 1881 to 1918. His reign marked Terengganu’s transition from a nominal vassal of Siam to an Unfederated Malay State under British protection. He was known for his charisma, personal adherence to Islamic law and efforts to modernise Terengganu. Breaking from isolationist policies, he embraced reforms and welcomed foreigners. He maintained Terengganu’s independence by showcasing historical manuscripts proving sovereignty and resisting British interference. With the support of religious leader Tok Ku Sayyid Paloh and noble Haji Ngah Muhammad, he opposed colonial control.

Despite his efforts, the 1909 British-Siamese Agreement was signed without Terengganu’s knowledge, placing the state under British influence. Sultan Zainal Abidin III countered by introducing Itqan al-Muluk (Terengganu State Constitution) in 1911, ensuring leadership followed Quranic principles and upheld Malay-Islamic identity. He passed away on 26 November 1918 at the age of 54, deeply mourned by his people.

His successor, Sultan Muhammad Shah II, was born on 1 May 1889 in Kuala Terengganu to Cik Khalthum binti Haji Daud, also known as Cik Istana. His reign was short-lived due to British pressure. The 1918 Bucknill Commission investigated his rule, citing mismanagement, particularly in land and mining concessions. British officials deemed him illiterate and temperamental, justifying their intervention. In 1919, he was forced to accept a British Adviser, officially integrating Terengganu into the British Empire. Struggling under colonial oversight, he abdicated after 18 months in favour of his brother, Sultan Sulaiman Badrul Alam Syah, to take control.

Sultan Sulaiman’s rule (1920–1942) saw Terengganu fall further under British control. British-backed officials attempted but failed to install Tengku Besar Mahmud, a prince of full royal blood (meaning both his parents were of royal descent), as sultan. His reign was marked by natural disasters, including the devastating 1926–1927 floods, and peasant uprisings led by Haji Abdul Rahman Limbong against British taxation policies. The Japanese invasion in 1941 worsened conditions – he died in 1942. His son, Sultan Ali, was later dethroned in 1945 due to a series of alleged misconducts – from holding wild parties, associating with unsavory women, to being pro-Japanese – and was replaced by his uncle, Sultan Ismail Nasiruddin.

The early 20^th century was a turbulent period in Terengganu’s history, marked by frequent shifts in power. Foreign pressures from British colonial administrators and Thailand played a significant role in shaping the decisions of Terengganu’s rulers. The legacy of Sultan Zainal Abidin III endured, as three of his sons became sultans, each navigating the challenges of British colonisation and governance. The evolution of Terengganu from an independent sultanate to a British protectorate, and eventually a part of Malaysia, was deeply influenced by the strength, or weakness, of its rulers. Ultimately, Terengganu’s history is inseparable from the story of its sultans, whose leadership defined its fate.

The Slave Trade in the Malay World: A Global Context

The story of slavery in the Malay world is a truly global one. It is one that can be told alongside the story of how trade and ideas came from the Middle East to the people of Southeast Asia. It is a tale of intricate networks, of characters from all walks of life, told within a wide context that sees the overlapping of religion, local and international geopolitics and economics.

By looking at slavery in a Malay(sian) context, we gain insight into a new history, one that brings together themes that are familiar to us. We are talking about European imperialism, cosmopolitanism, trade networks, Islam, Malay identity and even Malay power. It also involved non-Europeans and local traders who were heavily involved in the trade of slaves, namely from East Africa.

For decades, scholarship on slavery has mainly concentrated on the Atlantic trade. In recent years, however, scholars are looking at other geographical contexts for slavery, especially eastwards, from East Africa, through the Middle East, down the Indian Ocean and to the Malay Archipelago.

The Indian Ocean has emerged as a new context of study. This mass body of ocean has been a witness to the movements of peoples and goods, facilitating travel, trade and even colonialism. Scholars such as Amal Ghazal and Fahad Bishara have contributed to this field by examining the trade networks that connected various points along the Indian Ocean, from Zanzibar to the Indian continent. Slavery scholars are also beginning to look at this context to broaden the global scope of slavery’s history.

The demand for slave labour from East Africa stemmed from the expansion of European-controlled plantations in the 18^th century. In the French-held Mascarenes islands (the group of islands of which Mauritius belongs to), slaves from the East African coast were trafficked to the sugar plantations there. Plantations owned by Arab Muslims growing cloves and dates in the East African islands of Zanzibar and Pemba in the Persian Gulf region also increased the demand for slaves. Demand increased even further with the growing dominance of the British in the region who wanted to maintain their imperial control by propping up slave dependent economies. Slaves did not only appear on plantations, but also in other places too, from factories to the household.

When the European powers arrived, they took slaves from the eastern part of Dutch East Indies (Indonesia) and southern India as a labour force for their newly conquered and established cities in Asia. The Dutch relied extensively on the populations of Batavia to work on building sites or warehouses. Some of them were also owned property of Dutch citizens.

The African slave trade started in the 15^th century, when European powers expanded their lands in the Americas. They traded with local African leaders along the Western coast of Africa, gaining slaves to be brought across the Atlantic to work on European-owned plantations in the Atlantic coast of the Americas and on the Caribbean islands. However, it did not take long until the Europeans started trading slaves from the eastern coast of Africa eastwards for their possessions in the Indian Ocean.

For instance, the Portuguese were the first to bring slaves from Mozambique and Madagascar over to South Asia. Hundreds of thousands of Africans were taken and forcibly resettled on this route, as claimed by Shihan de Silva Jayasuriya. Termed Afro-Asian communities in India, they can be found in Gujarat and Karnataka, the two coastal states facing the eastern coast of Africa.

However, slavery in Southeast Asia cannot only be understood within the context of European imperialism. As noted by Anthony Reid, there was a “fluid spectrum” and conditions of bondage. He pointed out the ambiguous, if contradictory, position of slave – both as a property and person – as part of the household but also an outsider. In the Southeast Asian region, the concept of bondsmen, as opposed to slaves as property, had been in existence for centuries. In the Angkor court, slaves would be taken from less fixed populations, such as fishermen, cultivators and hunter-gatherers.

Furthermore, when examining slavery in Southeast Asia, it is also important to consider the role played by Islam. Stephanie Cronin has urged to move away from viewing slavery within a Eurocentric lens and to understand the institution of slavery within a religious-ideological framework. Much of how Islam and slavery is understood has been through a post-abolition Western discourse that is orientalist and othering in its approach.

In the Middle East, slavery had been in existence since ancient times. The arrival of Islam provided a new legal framework for slavery, but the practice did not die out. While domestic slaves and such were commonplace in the Muslim world, so too was the rise of elite slaves, who were taken by Islamic leaders to hold high positions in the government and military. In some cases, such as the Mamluks in Egypt, they even went on to overthrow their leaders and rule.

Muslim traders had been coming to the Malay lands along tried and tested routes through the Indian Ocean, even before the arrival of the Europeans. They were also active in the trade of slaves from East Africa. These African slaves who were brought over to Southeast Asia lived in a more open slave society, as compared to their Atlantic counterparts. Scholars such as Titas Chakraborty and Matthias van Rossum have urged the need to emphasise the local character of “Asian” slaveries. Many married into the local population and assimilated relatively well into the local population. Islamic law stipulated for fair treatment for slaves, disallowing exploitation, cruelty and prostitution. They were entitled to a formal contract and had the right to access legal aid and protection. Arab leaders took slaves from a variety of communities, including Christians in the Balkans and Africans. In Southeast Asia, local laws, from imperial Chinese ordinances to laws of the Melaka sultanate covered the rights of slaves.

Through studying the presence of African slaves in Southeast Asia, we thus gain insight into a long history that encompasses different geographic spaces that are united by trade, networks and religion across the Indian Ocean.

Introduction

Indonesia’s political landscape has solidified following major elections last year. President Prabowo Subianto has continued his predecessor’s political consolidation strategy of sporting a big coalition of parties in the parliament, thus almost effectively neutralising any potential opposition.

This has raised concerns about the weakening of the checks and balances system, the absence of alternative policy debates and accountability.

His ability to accommodate multiple political parties from various backgrounds, including various Islamic ones, influences the makeup of his big and fat cabinet. These Islamic parties have successfully secured ministerial positions despite their opposition of one another in pre-Prabowo years. They prioritise influence and political access to power and policy making rather than disputing issues of governance, indicating a conformity with pragmatic and transactional form of politics.

This article attempts to critically examine the dynamics and future trajectory of Islamic political parties.

Decline of Votes

In the 2024 general election, Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (PPP) only secured 3.87% of the votes, which effectively pushed them out of the legislative body for the first time (the parliamentary threshold is at 4%). Prior to this, Partai Bulan Bintang (PBB) was the last Islamic party that lost all their parliamentary seats, which happened in the 2009 election.

However, despite PPP’s decline, the remaining Islamic-based parties experienced a slight increase in votes. Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (PKB) secured 11,72% of the votes, Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (PKS) gained 9,14% and Partai Amanat Nasional (PAN) earned 8,28%. These three parties now occupy 169 out of the available 580 seats.

The decreasing number of Islamic parties in Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat (DPR) could point to the dimming vibrancy of political Islam in the legislative body. This also proves that the majority of Muslim voters do not vote for Islamic parties, which comprise less than a third of all DPR seats.

For example, members of Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) prefer to vote for Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan (PDI-P) and Prabowo’s Gerakan Indonesia Raya (Gerindra) over PPP or PKB, to which NU has historical affiliation and attachment. A reason for this is that nationalist parties like PDI-P has attracted more NU adherents by establishing Islamic wing organisations such as Baitul Muslimin Indonesia (BAMUSI).

Pragmatic Politics

Meanwhile, new Islamic parties such as Gelora Party and Ummat Party emerged, participated and failed in the last election. Like PBB, both parties obtained a very small fraction of votes (less than 1%). This seems to point out that the appetite for new Islamic parties, instead of the more established ones, is still very low.

Based on the past trends, it is almost impossible for new parties, including non-parliamentary ones, to get plenty of votes instantly. This explains why the parties’ elites shifted and adjusted their strategy in order to survive in the current landscape. 

For example, these non-parliamentarian Islamic parties pragmatically chose to foster an alliance with Prabowo’s Koalisi Indonesia Maju (Onward Indonesia Coalition – KIM), instead of improving the cadre and internal systems.

Elites of Gelora and PBB also campaigned for Prabowo, for which they were well rewarded with strategic positions in the cabinet. PBB’s Yusril Ihza Mahendra is now Coordinating Minister of Law and Human Rights. Gelora’s Anis Matta and Fahri Hamzah are both vice ministers in different portfolios (Foreign Affairs as well as Housing and Residential Area respectively).

This is despite their parties failing to pass the parliamentary threshold.

PKB’s pragmatism is also on full display, having joined Prabowo’s KIM that later became KIM Plus, despite previously backing his rival Anies Baswedan. Prabowo later teased the party for “returning to the right path” after their accession to his coalition.

PKB was later awarded two crucial positions. Its chairman Muhaimin Iskandar now serves as Coordinating Minister of People’s Empowerment while its executive Abdul Kadir Karding functions as Minister of Migrant Worker Protection.

Similarly, Prabowo’s loyalist PAN secured nine ministerial positions, whereas PKS, which joined under the KIM Plus arrangement, obtained one.

Securing a cabinet position is significant to these parties for multiple reasons.

Firstly, it accords access to state resources which, through various means, could be utilised to strengthen their base and finance operations such as future political campaigns. By controlling a ministry or a state institution, a political party has the ability to create and distribute jobs as well as projects that keep its internal members occupied.

Secondly, it allows parties to shape policies and control programmes that align with their political agenda. Moreover, a minister’s good performance will reflect positively on their party’s public image and credibility.

Thirdly, securing top ministerial position ensures a degree of political protection from legal scrutiny and law enforcement, although this may depend on that party’s relationship with coalition leaders and Prabowo himself.

All of these suggest that Islamic parties are moving in the same direction, further casting into question the purpose of the party’s Islamic ideology and identity. Evidently, what is relevant to them now are power, access to financial opportunities and bureaucratic connections. The line between Islamic and nationalist parties has thus become blurrier. 

This strategy to “play safe” clearly aims to avoid risks of becoming an opposition. It seems that to these parties, electoral survival and political influence outweigh ideological rigidity. Consequently, however, it also contributes towards the disappearance of diverse voices and views in the political landscape, thus a symptom of Indonesia’s declining democracy.

Status Quo Yes, Opposition No

In February 2025, student protests and demonstrations erupted across big cities in Indonesia. Under the banner of Indonesia Gelap (Indonesia in Darkness), such demonstrations aimed to express public dissatisfaction with Prabowo’s policies, such as the free meal programme, budget cuts and many more. Some students were arrested by local police while others were allowed by local governments to share their opinion.

These protests reflect the public’s growing frustration towards the perceived government’s failure to deliver goods and services. Yet, despite their magnitude, Islamic-based parties remained silent.

In the last decade, PKS had actively positioned itself as the primary opposition. They had challenged government policies and advocated for the needs and aspirations of the conservative Muslims, its vote base.

However, PKS’ recent reluctance to criticise the government shows a shift in the political dynamic, one that marks the erosion of the checks and balances system as alternative voices become restricted.

Likewise, the largest Islamic organisations, NU and Muhammadiyah, might replicate the attitude of these Islamic parties, contributing to a homogenised political discourse in which dissenting views struggle to gain traction. A key figure in Muslimat NU, Khofifah Indar Parawansa, recently stated that NU will continue being a loyal supporter of Prabowo’s administration.

This situation raises concern about why more religious elites are taking part in maintaining the status quo rather than becoming an opposition.

Ideally, an opposition serves the fundamental role in any democratic system by providing scrutiny, offering policy alternatives and acting as a counterbalance to the government. Without it, policies risk being unchecked, leading to lack of accountability and potential overreach.

Conclusion

All in all, the stance of Islamic-based parties today is clear: they are close to the government and reluctant to be an opposition. Consequently, they cannot be relied on to express alternative voices and provide checks and balances against the government. This forces the people to take to the streets to express their dissatisfaction and dislike towards the government’s policies. If this trend continues, Indonesia’s democratic space would continue to shrink under the weight of political conformity, while demonstrations and online protests would become more frequent.

Actors in the current political landscape can be said to adopt the “wait and see” approach to Prabowo’s policies. It remains to be seen how Islamic political parties would react to key government agendas and legislative priorities, especially if these could affect their chance at getting re-elected in the next contestation.

Agriculture has long been the backbone of Southeast Asia, contributing significantly to food security, economic stability, and rural livelihoods. The ASEAN region, rich with diverse agricultural practices and resources, faces common challenges such as climate change, urbanization, market volatility, and policy discrepancies. As countries navigate these complexities, understanding the socio-economic dimensions of agriculture within the ASEAN context becomes crucial for fostering resilience, sustainability, and collective growth.

In light of these challenges, Yayasan Strategik Lestari (YSL) and stratsea are honored to create a platform for dialogue and knowledge exchange to achieve three primary aspirations: to cultivate a society that understands international relations, to identify Malaysia’s role in addressing agricultural socio-economic issues through expert perspectives, and to gather recommendations for further research and policy benchmarking.

The webinar will delve into critical questions such as:

• What are the socio-economic dynamics shaping ASEAN’s agricultural sector?

• How can collaboration among ASEAN countries enhance agricultural productivity and resilience?

• What policy interventions are necessary to address the impacts of climate change and market volatility on the region’s food security?

• How can Southeast Asia harness its agricultural diversity for mutual benefit and sustainable development?

Webinar Details

Date: Friday, 11 April 2025

Time: 09:30 AM (Indonesia/Thailand) / 10:30 AM (Malaysia/Philippines/Singapore)

Speaker Details

Dr. Dona Laily Wahyuning is a prominent scholar in agribusiness management, specializing in agricultural competitiveness, trade dynamics, and rural socioeconomics. As Head of the Agribusiness Management Laboratory at Universitas Pembangunan Nasional Veteran Jawa Timur, her research offers valuable insights into Indonesia’s agricultural landscape and its regional implications.

Among her notable works is the analysis of rice farming competitiveness in Bojonegoro Regency, which explores strategies to enhance productivity and resilience in one of Indonesia’s key rice-producing areas. She has also examined factors influencing rice imports in Indonesia, shedding light on trade policies and food security challenges. Additionally, her study on the competitiveness of Indonesian cloves compared to Tanzania and Madagascar provides critical perspectives on global spice markets and Indonesia’s position within them.

Dr. Dona’s research reflects a deep commitment to strengthening agricultural resilience and market performance, making her a valuable voice in advancing sustainable agricultural development across ASEAN.