Introduction

Dina: “Betul ke hok Ya cakak tu? Ya betul betul hamba? Dari Ethiopia?” (Is it true what you said? You are really a slave? From Ethiopia?)

Ya: “Ye. Betul, patik dari Mesir. Asal usul patik… pernoh dengor Ethiopia. Tapi patik duduk kat Mesir, dulu pah tu Mesia lama do-oh.”(Yes. I’m from Egypt. I think my roots are from Ethiopia. But I used to stay in Egypt before moving to Malaysia.)

I met Ya about three times in 2006. She called me on the telephone, telling me to hurry, hurry, time was flying past fast, so we had better get cracking. I flew back each time she called and dashed to the kitchen where she always waited.

One time, she wanted to show that she could dance the tango. She sashayed in the room to an imaginary song and said“Kalu patik dok jage umoh ne, patik jadi pelakon kat Amerika tu! Pelakon favourite patik… Marilyn Monroe. Nok dengor cite Ya, Ku Dina? Ingak ye, lepas tu buat pilem Ya.” (If I were not a caretaker of this house, I would have become an actress in America. My favourite actress is… Marilyn Monroe. Do you want to hear about my story, Ku Dina? Just remember to make a movie about me later.)

Ya stood up and acted out a Hindustani film love scene. She pretended she was behind a tree, wooing her lover. I was delighted.

Ya continued. “Patik nok semboh cerita kat Kak Dina. ini lah cite patik. Orang umoh panggil patik, Ya, Mariam, tapi nok senang, panggil patik Ya. Tapi, nama sebenar Ya, Desta. Bonda patik bagi nama tu kak patik. Itu la hok patik boleh ingat masa patik kecik. Desta.” (I want to share my story with you. This is my story. The people in this household call me Ya or Mariam, but it is easier to call me Ya. But my real name is Desta. My mother gave me that name. That is what I can remember from my childhood. Desta.)

Our interviews were recorded and the excerpts would be shared on this platform here from time to time, just like in chapter one of this series.

Whispers of Ya’s Past

There are many truths to Ya’s story. Family members said she was sent to work for Almarhum Sultan Muhammad Syah II and was accepted as part of them later on.

Another family member and the late Ku Ah had heard that Ya’s aunt had persuaded Ya’s parents to allow her to work for a rich Malay family. What we unanimously agreed on was that Almarhum was a pious man, who abdicated the throne in protest against colonial rule.

“Zaman tu, patik banyak kena belajar. Bahasa baru, care idup baru. Mulanya musing sikit. Maklumlah, patik ni orang pasir. Oooofff. Tapi nok kate idup patik susoh dok. Bila patik masuk

keluarge baru, patik tengok dalam umoh, macam istana. Ramainya cucu ketua umoh tu! Ada tukang masok – baik orang dia – dia ajor patik masok, jaga umoh, semua lah! Baik-baik belaka. Lepas kerja, mereka ajok patik main. Macam macam main kita semua. Masok masok, guli guli. Ya masa kecil-kecil di Mekah, main tutup mata, cari orang. Kalau jatuh, jatuhlah! Budak-budak di Mekah bermain macam budak-budak di sini juga.

“Patik kerja kuat. Patik buat apa yang disuruh. Semua untuk patik dapat lupakan hidup patik dulu. Oh, Ku Dina. Bila matahari terbit kat kampung patik dulu, macam masuk syurga, cantik. Bila dah petang tu, macam alam lain.”

(During that period, I had to learn a lot. A new language, a new lifestyle. It was a bit confusing. What to do—I am a “sand people” [coming from a desert area]. Oooofff. But I am not saying my life was difficult. When I joined this family, I was surprised by the house—it is like a palace. The family’s head has so many grandchildren! There was this cook – they were nice – they taught us how to cook, look after the house, everything! Everything was fine. After work, they would invite me to join their games. We played all sorts of games. Cooking, marbles. When I was a child in Mecca, we used to play hide and seek. We fell all the time! Children in Mecca play games like the children here do.

I worked really hard. I did everything I was asked to do. I did everything to forget my past life. Oh, Ku Dina. When the sun rose in my old village, it looked like paradise. When the sun set, it was as if you have entered a different realm.”)

Ya was not the only young child to work for the family. Safar, Berserah and one young boy who remains unnamed joined her and they became fast friends. According to my cousin and late grandaunt Ku Ah, Safar had a tragic story.

Beyond Servitude

Safar was walking in the desert alone, aways from her home when she noticed something. Safar saw a comb of bananas, which appeared out of the blue, all yellow and ripe, on the sand. She looked at it curiously. Prior to this, her sister and friends had been taken away by slave traders. Her mother and father cried and called to the gods to get them back.

The bananas enticed Safar. Then, the bananas moved – probably tied to a string – and the young girl followed it. In an instant, a sack was thrown over her head and she was taken away.

In her adult years, she had expressed great regret that she had not stayed home.

Then there is the story Ya whispered to me, of how some of the young boys who had gone out to play in the desert found a trail of flowers not native to their country. Like all young people, curiosity won out and they met their fate.

It was when they arrived in Malaya that they recognised the flower: bunga mawar Melayu (Malay rose). That was the story I was told.

Despite the fact that they had become a part of the family and the local landscape, they were still enslaved people. Their truths and memories would always be disputed and silenced by their masters and their descendants.

In the time we undertook this research project, we have learned one thing: truths were manufactured to protect reputation at the cost of the innocent.

We found documents from the British Archives that reveal the base character of certain personalities, which led to rigorous discussion. Whose truth are we to show in the would-be documentary?

In two emails sent to me by my late cousin Tengku Ismail Su, the songket maker, dated 21 September 2007 and 14 April 2008, he wrote: 

Ya recalled as it was yesterday. “I was playing games with my elder sisters and friends further away my house when a band of Arab slave traders raided our village”. This happened so sudden we were caught by surprised with those noises of gun fire really stunt us which hamper our movement of escaping from the life of slavery. We were rounded up and handcuffed, forced to walk for nearly a week to the nearest coast, were then transferred into a dawf crudely made Arab wooden boat to a slave trading collecting centre near the port of Aden at the tip of Arabian Peninsula.   

I came from a noble tribe my father a handsome and tall, a village chieftain. Our village is somewhere between the border of Ethiopia and Somali the horn of Africa. Being captured and handcuffed is a terrible ordeal for us. We were first auctioned at a slave market and bought by an Arab slave merchant, then taken by camel across vast desert to Jeddah slave market. With my exotic beauty was spotted by the head Nubian eunuch from the household of the Sheriff Hussein. Luck is on my side I and my parents and sisters were bought into this illustrious family the descended of Prophet Muhammad, the Guardian of the two Holy Cities of Mecca and Medina. The slave merchant make a handsome profit from us, it is always a custom for them to take a great care of their newly captured slave from being sexually abused such rape in order to fetch a good price. I was presented as a gift to the ex-Sultan Muhammad who was at that time a state guest of the Sheriff Hussein. Unlike other Nubian slaves bought by your grandmother and Tengku Maimunah directly from trader”

He continued, “Ya traced and managed to find her family again in 1935 during ex-Sultan Muhammad second pilgrimages to Mecca. She was welcome to go back to her family but she prefers to be with her master handsome prince living in Singapore and country palace of Gong Kapas in the back water of Terengganu Sultanate.”

“Mariam or Ya affectionate know in the family quiet passed away at the age of 85 years old in rundown Istana Gong Kapas where her handsome Sultan passed away 50 years ago but her linger as it was yesterday. When ever I saw her story of her life unfold of tragic to romantic love.”

The email above has been replicated verbatim from the email.

Introduction

In January 1998 – when the Malaysian government handed over four senior members of the Patani United Liberation Organization (PULO) to Thai law enforcement – few knew what to make of it.

Thailand’s Malay-speaking South was relatively peaceful at the time; armed insurgency had already subsided for some years. The blanket amnesty given to various separatist groups from the late 1980s to early 1990s appeared to have paid off—or so it seemed.

While combatants put down their arms and returned to their villages, many leaders remained abroad, obtaining residency status or citizenship in Northern European countries and Malaysia.

Thailand wrongly assumed that peace had been achieved in this Malay historical homeland known as Patani. So, when Malaysian authorities detained Abdul Rohman Bazo, Haji Daoh Thanam, Haji Mae Yala, and Haji Sama-ae Thanam and handed them over to Thai counterparts in January 1998, Patani residents and members of various Patani liberation groups were dumbstruck.

Four years later, when a new generation of Patani Malay fighters under the command of the Barisan Revolusi Nasional (BRN) resurfaced – carrying out sporadic attacks against police and military outposts in the region – Malaysia realised they had shot themselves in the foot with the handover of the four PULO members.

Rocky Road

The official explanation as to why the Thais were after these PULO leaders was unconvincing. No one believed they were trying to start another standing army, as they were living openly in Malaysia, running legitimate businesses such as a restaurant.

One explanation that made the most sense came from a senior Thai diplomat who said the request for the arrest of the Thanam brothers and their associates was Thailand’s way of testing the waters with Malaysia—to gauge the level of commitment from then-prime minister Dr Mahathir Mohammed to his Thai counterpart, Chuan Leekpai.

At first, as sporadic attacks occurred in mid-2001, the then-government – led by Thaksin Shinawatra – was dismissive, calling the insurgents “sparrow bandits”. Following the 4 January 2004 arms heist, in which BRN combatants made off with more than 350 military weapons from an army battalion in Narathiwat, Bangkok could no longer deny the political underpinnings of these attacks.

Suddenly, there was acknowledgment that a new generation of Patani Malay Muslim separatist combatants had resurfaced.

The first few years were not smooth sailing for the two countries as public accusations and microphone diplomacy took their toll on bilateral relations, with each side accusing the other of not doing enough to quell the insurgency.

Fleeing Villagers

One low point came in August 2005 when 131 Malay Muslim villagers from Narathiwat’s Sungai Padi district crossed the border and took refuge in Kelantan’s mosques following alleged harassment by Thai security forces.

Deporting these villagers back to Thailand would have been difficult as Malaysia sought to maintain its place in the Muslim world. Moreover, the 131 displaced villagers were not just Muslims; they were fellow Malays who shared the same cultural and linguistic traits as Malays in Malaysia.

At the time of the exodus, death squads were on a killing spree, targeting ethnic Malays at village teashops; the imam from Narathiwat’s Sungai Padi district and a female teacher at an Islamic preschool in the village were shot dead by unknown gunmen.

The atmosphere was tense and a climate of fear enveloped the entire region.

Malaysia did not push the 131 back to the Thai side but refused to recognise or treat them as asylum seekers. There were concerns that more would come. Eventually, the Malaysian government asked the United Nations High Commission on Refugees (UNHCR) to assist these fleeing Patani Malay villagers, thus internationalising the issue.

Thaksin was furious because he never wanted the problem in the far South to be more than a bilateral issue. Putting Patani on an international stage forced Thailand to confront this disturbing aspect of its state-minority relations. This is not to mention its failed assimilation policy that Patani Malays violently rejected because it threatened their ethno-religious identity and historical-cultural narrative.

Eventually, over the years, the issue faded from officials’ memories. Some of the displaced villagers quietly returned to their homes in Narathiwat, while others remained in northern Malaysia as undocumented migrants.

Yet, someone must pay the price. Thaksin was ousted in a coup in October 2006 by an army general who cited his handling of the separatist insurgency as one of the reasons.

Strings of Prime Ministers

The relationship between Malaysia and Thailand during the reign of prime minister Surayud Chulanont was described as cordial and respectful. The former army chief placed great emphasis on the root causes of the conflict. In late 2007, Surayud made a public apology to the people of Patani for the deaths of 87 unarmed protesters in Tak Bai in late 2004.

He reached out to the international community for help to establish a foundation for peace negotiations with the rebels, but his time in office lasted just 16 months. The foundation he laid was largely ignored by the subsequent government of prime minister Samak Sundaravej of the Thaksin-linked People Power Party (PPP).

In March 2012, Thaksin held a quiet meeting in Kelantan with leaders from various Patani Malay separatist organisations, during which he blamed his heavy-handedness on distorted information given to him by the Army. Thaksin thought his direct participation would help improve the situation. He urged all participants to let bygones be bygones and start over.

Two weeks after the meeting, a triple car bomb exploded in the heart of Yala, one of Thailand’s three southernmost border provinces, killing 13 and wounding about 140 civilians. Conflict observers and Thai security officials said the attack was a stern message to Thaksin that nothing in the far south comes easy.

The following year, on 28 February 2013, prime minister Yingluck Shinawatra, Thaksin’s sister, caught everyone by surprise, including the Royal Thai Army, by launching a peace process with a group of exiled old guards claiming to be BRN members. Malaysia was officially designated as the facilitator.

It has been repeatedly pointed out that, due to geographical proximity, Malaysia cannot be seen as an honest broker. Some conspiracy-minded officials in Thailand even suggest that Patani wants to join Malaysia.

However, among security officials, it was generally understood that mainland Southeast Asian borders have a life of their own. At one time or another, buffers and proxies along borders were common among countries in the region while diplomatic relations took their course.

To some BRN members, Malaysia’s opposition to an independent Patani already disqualified them as an honest broker. But this is Southeast Asia, where peace and conflict resolution theories do not align well.

Malaysia took up the mediation role, thinking that Thailand was politically stable. Nevertheless, just over a year after peace negotiations launched, Yingluck was ousted in a coup.

The coup leader, General Prayut Chan-ocha, appointed himself the country’s prime minister and deliberated continuing Yingluck’s peace initiative. After all, the Army had not been consulted and learned about it just days before the official launch in Malaysia. In the end, Prayut relented and allowed the talks to continue.

From the start, Yingluck’s peace initiative wavered between a hoax and a leap of faith. The representatives at the table lacked command and control over the combatants on the ground. But when BRN finally came to the table in January 2020, these old guards from the 2013 talks were immediately sidelined.

Having the real BRN at the table did not mean violence on the ground would end. The new chief negotiator, General Udomchai Thamsarorat, was appointed in October 2018 and immediately sought help from local civil society organisations, hoping they could amplify messages to BRN about the need to talk and reconcile differences.

However, it remained unclear what the Thai side had to offer or what concessions the government was willing to make to the people of Patani. Besides engaging local CSOs, Udomchai also asked Malaysia to bypass BRN negotiators and arrange a meeting for him with top leaders from the BRN military wing. BRN refused.

Decline

Another low point between Thailand and Malaysia came in late 2019 when Bangkok created a back channel with BRN through foreign mediation without informing Malaysia.

There are several reasons as to why Malaysia was uninformed. Firstly, Thailand blamed Malaysia for its failure in bringing BRN’s military leaders to the table. Secondly, Thailand was still not satisfied with talking to the BRN negotiators, even through a proper channel.

Thailand assumed that if it can talk to the military wing, it can (somehow) convince the movement to lay down their arms. Thus, Thailand approached a foreign NGO to establish a back channel with BRN, with the assumption that this could be done without giving any concession to BRN or the Malays of Patani.

In theory, a back channel is supposed to support the main (official) channel. However, in this case, the two tracks continue to compete against one another (the official track with Malaysia as the lead and the back channel with a foreign NGO trying to convince everybody that Malaysia needs to be dumped because it is not an honest broker).

Tensions arising from this competition took their toll on BRN unity. Thus, in early 2022, the BRN central committee decided to end all forms of back channels unless Malaysia is kept in the loop.

Udomchai was replaced by retired National Security Council (NSC) chief General Wallop Raksanoh, who spent the next three years developing a blueprint to serve as the roadmap for the peace process. A commitment from BRN that future negotiations would align with the Thai Constitution was a significant victory for Wallop, but more work remained for the Malaysian mediator to get both sides to agree on the roadmap’s content.

Meanwhile, Thailand held a general election in May 2023 that created a coalition government, with Thaksin’s Pheu Thai Party coming in second but successfully forming a coalition with like-minded partners, including parties from the junta leaders who ousted Yingluck in 2014.

Later, real estate tycoon Srettha Tavisin became prime minister. During his tenure, Malaysia was left pondering when Thailand would appoint a chief negotiator. This was because national security was not an immediate concern of the Srettha administration.

This was demonstrated with Srettha making no reference to the far south (or to Burma) during his speech to the Parliament. His priorities were clear. Firstly, to prioritise the economy as a means to winning back the constituency whom his party had lost after the Faustian deal with the pro-junta/military camp to get Thaksin back to Thailand. Secondly, to deny the Move Forward Party the lead in setting up a government. Thirdly, to make the Pheu Thai Party the overall lead in this coalition of political parties that compromised their stated democratic principles in exchange for a political truce that may not last very long.

Eventually, then-NSC deputy chief Chartchai Bangchuad was appointed as chief negotiator. His stint lasted only a few months, as the Constitutional Court removed Srettha from office in August 2024 following ethical violation charges.

The government of Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra, much like the one preceding it, showed little concern for the conflict in the far south. Last December, BRN threatened to walk away from talks and withdrew its earlier commitment to operate under the Thai Constitution if Thailand continued to drag its feet on the peace process.

Bangkok refused to yield and insisted that a new negotiating team would be appointed only after BRN curbed violence on the ground. BRN maintained that even the reduction of violence had to be negotiated.

Just before Ramadhan in 2025, the new Malaysian facilitator, Datuk Mohd Rabin Basir, tried to help Thailand secure a ceasefire during the holy month. However, Bangkok found BRN’s demand for international observers to monitor the ceasefire too much to accept. Thailand has always resisted outside intervention, leading to the rejection.

Interestingly, BRN sources had shared with the author that Datuk Mohd Rabin’s appointment to replace Tan Sri Zulkifli Zainal Abidin, the retired chief of the armed forces and a professor at the National Defence University of Malaysia, was perceived as a setback to the peace process. This was because Tan Sri Zulkifli had worked hard to gain BRN’s trust and respect during his appointment as Malaysia’s facilitator.

The recent spike in violence has become the new normal. Targets include Defense Volunteers (DV), locally hired security personnel assigned to the Ministry of Interior’s provincial governors and district chiefs. These DVs have been asked to serve as government informants. BRN has demonstrated that they have no qualms about targeting DVs who spy on them.

In March 2025, Thaksin offered to carry out a direct talk with BRN leaders from the military wing. He suggested Phuket as the venue and offered legal immunity. BRN leaders turned down the offer, as no one was certain about what kind of mandate Thaksin had to be making such an offer.

Observers said Thaksin just wanted photo ops with BRN military leaders. For BRN, the peace process is the start of a very long journey, one that should not be taken lightly, much less used as a photo op for an ageing, former fugitive prime minister who does not seem to know his place.

Conclusion

Despite the challenges, Malaysia plays an important role in attempting to resolve the long-running insurgency in Thailand’s southernmost provinces. The relationship with Thailand has become much calmer compared to the early days of microphone diplomacy.

Both Thailand and BRN see Malaysia’s geographical proximity as beneficial to their logistical and operational needs. Furthermore, ethnic Malays in Malaysia may share similar cultural-religious characteristics with the Malays of Patani, indicating that a great sympathy for the plight of the latter might exist among the former.

But it stops there. Both government and non-government entities in Malaysia know that nurturing this bilateral tie is extremely challenging, as one wrong move could bring down the whole house.

Balancing its relationship with Thailand while maintaining credibility with insurgent groups has not been an easy act to follow for Malaysia. Some in Malaysia say the Malaysian government should do nothing more than facilitate discussion, while others said the proximity makes the country a stakeholder and intervention is extremely necessary. Nevertheless, it is generally agreed that BRN needs all the help it can get from members of the international community and that Malaysia should facilitate the discussion. Getting Thailand to go along with the idea, on the other hand, is like moving a mountain.

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.

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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.

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.

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Evolution

Stigma continues to overshadow conversations on mental health in Malaysia, often framing mental health disturbances as tests of resilience. Meanwhile, those who seek help – whether professional or not – continue to be viewed as weak individuals that could bring shame upon their family. Such an “obligation” to quietly endure one’s life challenges is deep-rooted in Malaysia’s cultural norm, with some individuals potentially taking pride in it.

This has left little room for open conversations about mental wellbeing in the country, though recent years show that there is a powerful cultural shift. What has driven this transformation and what challenges lie ahead?

Cultural Context

We must first acknowledge the historical context to understand this shift. In Malaysia, where there is a strong emphasis on cultural and religious norms, mental health is long considered of lesser priority to physical health.

Family members are discouraged from openly discussing their personal struggles due to the prevalence of norms such as saving face and honouring family reputation. Such norms remain deep-rooted in the Malaysian community and thus one’s admission to mental health struggles is akin to tarnishing their family’s image in front of the wider community.

The norm of saving face is so ingrained in the society that major cultural proverbs or practices are associated with it.

For example, the famous prophetic hadith sabar itu separuh daripada iman (patience is half of faith) captures the Malay cultural emphasis on patience and endurance as a sign of religious strength and piety.

Meanwhile, the Chinese concept of xiao shun or filial piety reflects the importance of familial reputation and the expectation to prioritise family’s honour over personal struggles. The famous animated Disney movie Mulan captured this well, as the main character struggles to bring honour to her family by challenging the society’s standards of what is considered honourable.

On the other hand, among the Indian communities in Malaysia, there is a tendency to approach mental health challenges through a spiritual lens, whereby personal struggles are often associated to karma, divine punishment or unbalanced spiritual practice. Consequently, such an approach encourages a dependence on religious solutions to address the problem, instead of seeking advice from professionals.

There is a silver lining across all three: these sayings and perspectives may discourage those with mental health challenges from openly discussing them. This is a problem prevalent not only in Malaysia but also in other parts of Asia, where mental health disturbance is more often than not attributed to weakness in character rather than a legitimate health concern. Moreover, the lack of familiarity with the mental health concept among older generations often leads to chronic underreporting and lack of treatment.

Fortunately, there are signs that this trend is shifting. Institutions and organisations such as Mental Illness Awareness & Support Association (MIASA), the National Association of Christian Counsellors Malaysia (NACC Malaysia) and the Kuala Lumpur Buddhist Mental Health Association have started integrating spiritual therapy and counselling into their mental health services.

Such progress received a boost during the pandemic when there was a hike in the number of people suffering from stress, anxiety and depression. On the flipside, this was perhaps a blessing in disguise: During this period, the government increased funding for mental health needs, having recognised this growing problem as a public priority.

These steps emit a positive signal of the changing conversation surrounding mental health in Malaysia – that it is acceptable to seek help and that silence should not be the norm.

Despite this, Malaysia’s vibrant social media continues to pose risks as well as afford opportunities to the country’s mental health landscape.

The Two Sides of Social Media

Social media does pose risks to one’s mental health, with problems such as online bullying, data breaches and exposure to negative content. Within Malaysia’s younger communities, what should we be looking out for?

The comparison trap is the first instance. Platforms like Instagram and TikTok could instigate one to engage in constant self-comparison due to the promotion of idealised portrayals of life by other users and influencers. For example, trends like the “that girl” aesthetic on TikTok showcase luxury lifestyles with unrealistic living standards that do not sit well with the lived reality of the B40 and middle-class communities in Malaysia. Contents promoted by the algorithm also often leave viewers feeling inadequate and adds the continuous stress of meeting an unattainable lifestyle.

In general, over 60% of youth reported their lives were lacking compared to others, creating a strong urge to stay connected online and avoid experiencing the fear of missing out (FOMO). Malaysian youths are also susceptible to this, with the community already being pressured to excel academically and professionally.

Doomscrolling is another issue. It is an endless consumption of content on social media, which could leave a user losing hours of life in a day. Doomscrolling could intensify feelings of fear and insecurity, especially if a user falls into the comparison trap discussed above.

The effect could be worse if the content is negative and distressing in nature, such as political brouhaha or visuals of Israel’s carnage in Gaza. In Malaysia’s context, prolonged exposure to sensationalised news like Malaysia’s political instability and economic challenges only increases anxiety, depression, and a sense of helplessness.

Mental health challenges, unfortunately, have also prompted individuals to seek information online and engage in self-diagnosis. This could be a problem, especially since there is so much false information spreading online whereas mental health diagnosis requires a professional touch. Wrongful self-diagnosis could also lead to misguided treatments that further complicate the problem. It has to be acknowledged that the tendency to self-diagnose could be born out of fear of being stigmatised by the society, as discussed above.

These, however, should not erase its positive contributions.

Platforms such as Facebook, Instagram and TikTok have provided Malaysians (especially younger ones) with a safe space to find support during challenging times. This has also ushered in the burgeoning of mental health influencers as well as online advocates such as Dr Joel Low, Tengku Puteri Iman Afzan, Che Puan Sarimah Ibrahim and Dr Amer Siddiq in the last few years. All of them have encouraged conversations around this topic that was once considered taboo.

The growing acceptance of mental health discourse in social media has made it easier for Malaysians to acknowledge that they are not alone in their struggles. There are positive examples of how this has manifested lately.

The #KitaJagaKita campaign during the pandemic shows the power of social media to transform community-based pandemic relief initiative into a nationwide movement centred around mutual care and wellbeing. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Health’s TikTok campaign offered information regarding suicide prevention resources to stave off the alarming increase of  the suicide rate during the pandemic. The Ministry also hosted live sessions featuring mental health professionals to help the audience address the pressure on their mental health as they navigated the lockdown.

All in all, these activities and campaigns have contributed to the destigmatisation of mental health but also enabled access to mental health resources such as the Malaysian Mental Health Association (MMHA) and Befrienders.

We should thus acknowledge that social media can be a double-edged sword in relation to mental health. Responsible use of social media is thus a solution for Malaysians to be able to navigate the risks while benefitting from its boon. When used mindfully, social media can serve as a powerful tool for raising awareness and connecting Malaysians with support networks and coping resources.

Way Forward

This article aims to portray a fraction of the mental health landscape in Malaysia. While cultural barriers remain, there are trends challenging these that help destigmatise mental health conversations in the country. Though social media poses risks, it has proven instrumental in enabling open conversations, connecting users to online resources and shifting attitudes towards this “taboo” subject. Any mental health-related campaign in Malaysia could benefit immensely from the opportunities that it affords.  

Moving forward, a focus on increasing digital literacy is critical to building a healthier and more inclusive mental health culture. These efforts ensure that mental health becomes as equally prioritised as physical health, fostering a community where openness and compassion define resilience. While the journey toward mental health acceptance is ongoing, each step forward brings us closer to a culture that embraces vulnerability and openness as signs of strength.