Projek Dialog

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Viralising the Climate Emergency is working?

by Yvonne Tan

 

In April 2021 a viral Google satellite image of a heavily deforested land located next to the Kuantan District Forest Department prompted the Pahang Forestry Department to hold a press conference to clarify the ownership of the land pictured. The Pahang Forestry Department Director Datuk Mohd. Hizamri Mohd. Yassin stated that the land was privately owned outside the Bukit Galing Forest Reserve and explained that mining activities have been put to a stop twice in 2016 and 2017. 

Later in June, Malaysiakini reports on a company with links to the Pahang royal family plans to mine iron from the degazetted Som Forest reserve at Kuala Tembeling on top of a previous royalty-linked mining project near Tasik Chini in Pekan. Days later, several questioned this move on Tengku Hassanal Ibrahim Alam Shah’s Instagram video post of himself doing push-ups with the hashtag #pushUp4environment. Soon after this, he proposes mining activities to be stopped, ordered the former mining areas be reforested and for the expansion of the Tasik Chini forest reserve. This was also in conjunction with a Facebook post going viral which claimed a new mining site was allowed to open near Tasik Chini after March 2019. The State Land and Mines director’s office had to release a statement that no new mining leases nor exploration licenses have been issued since then.

Aside from Pahang, on 12 August the Selangor government had completed the legal process for the degazettement of Kuala Langat North Forest Reserve for mixed commercial development despite many online petitions and signatures objecting to the proposal since January.  A week later, the Selangor state government decided to postpone the degazettement despite 54% of the 931.17 h.a. had already been degazetted and following more criticism decided to re-gazette Kuala Langat forest reserve.

The coalition “Pertahankan Hutan Simpan Kuala Langat Utara (PHSKLU)” [https://selamatkanhsklu.carrd.co/] encouraged sending pressure emails to the Selangor MB and protest on social media using the hashtags #HutanPergiMana #SelamatkanHSKLU #SaveKLNFR #RevokeTheDegazettement. Take for example, @iqtodabal’s Instagram reels where he spoke about the Kuala Langat Forest Reserve and those who would profit from their degazettement garnered over 59,000 views while a similar video on Tasik Chini got over 244,000 views at the time of writing. It is hard to pinpoint to a particular reason why both state governments have suddenly decided to listen to public outcry and the reality could be a mix of pressure from Orang Asli, NGOs and CSOs, media attention and social media outrage. PHSKLU in their latest press statement attributed media as one of the major contributing factors on the reversal of degazettement: “We also recognise the important role played by the local media in their extensive coverage of the issue over the past 18 months, including more than 200 articles and interviews in various languages”.

The RM 46 billion Penang South Reclamation (PSR) megaproject also got cancelled in early September due to public pressure. The proposed megaproject would include 3 islands the size of 4500 acres that would cause disruption to fishermen’s livelihoods, marine ecosystems and coastal habitats to not only Penang but also Perak where sand mining would take place. Although the Penang government may apply for judicial review against the Appeal Board under the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA), this move came hard-fought by Penang Fishermen’s Association (PenMutiara) who challenged the EIA assessment, environmental organisations, and social media campaigns with #PenangTolakTambak trending on Twitter in June. The volunteers of Penang Tolak Tambak, a coalition between PenMutiara and Penang Forum initiated the online campaign and Khoo Salma Naution, a member of Penang Forum stated “With the MCO, we can’t physically protest, so we’re trying to do things through social media. It’s really good to see a local environmental issue trending on Twitter, I don’t remember the last time that happened, especially since a lot of people will look at this as a Penang problem.”

There is clearly a pattern here. Although the cancellations of these projects that come after public pressure might seem like the government does listen, month after month might seem like the government does listen to demands of affected communities, the public, and environmental groups, it is not the case. Take for example,  Shakila Zen who has been vocal against degazetting the Kuala Langat Reserve received an anonymous letter threatening an acid attack against her with a replica of a severed hand. Meanwhile, the fishermen associations have appealed against the Department of Environment’s approval of the PSR project since 2019 while many voiced their concerns since the approval of the project in 2015. Not to mention, Penang Tolak Tambak were also closely associated with Save Portuguese Community Action Committee (SPAC) in Malacca, Koalisi Selamatkan Teluk Jakarta, Kumpulan Indah Tanjung Aru (KTIA) in Sabah and Persatuan Aktivist Sahabat Alam (KUASA) in Perak in collectively resisting against land reclamation culminating in a joint statement “Stop Stealing our Seas, joint statement by Malaysia-Indonesia groups against reclamation” which has garnered almost 129,000 signatures.

If anything, the continual outrage and viralising of problematic development projects that would adversely affect communities and climate change reveal there is a clear awareness that powers that be stood to benefit most from the destruction of our environment. As a developing country that saw the rapid restructuring of our economy for the proliferation of white elephant projects under the guise of national development that came with Wawasan 2020 that is now behind us, maybe there is a shift in a Malaysia that we would like. Criticising callous development at the expense of the environment has now become the norm. 

State governments have become private sector monopolies, where ownership and control have been legitimized via “decentralised” power made up of political elites. In the case of Pahang and Selangor, after public outcry, the state governments would quickly shift blame to the private companies to whom they have sold licenses to. However, there is persistent attention, both online and offline, on respective state management of the environment calling for more transparency and accountability. This does not discount the hard work of on-the-ground organisations and advocacy groups, but rather harking to the beginnings of maybe a wider climate movement in Malaysia, one which gives power to the communities most affected by climate change.

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Bahasa Pasca-Reformasi

by Yvonne Tan

When the #Lawan black flags were raised from July 3 onwards along with the hashtags #BenderaHitam and #KerajaanGagal, I couldn’t help but see similarities the 2019 Indonesian Protests which also featured the black flag with the hashtag #ReformasiDiKorupsi which became the slogan of the movement along with #DewanPenghkianatRakyat, #SemuaBisaKena, and #MosiTidakPercaya. Plenty of comparisons have been made between Indonesia and Malaysia’s Reformasi movement in 1998 which saw the resignation of Suharto and challenged Mahathir’s administration. Without a doubt, the slogan and idea of Reformasi continue to remain salient in the protest language of both our nations, but this time around the protests hold a deep sense of distrust against the state’s ability to carry out meaningful reforms.  

1998 protests were some of the biggest student-led demonstrations the two countries have seen which primarily went against the corruption of the New Order and Mahathir regimes, encapsulated by the term “KKN” which stands for korupsi, kolusi and nepotisme. The 2019 Indonesian protests were the largest student movement since that of 1998 followed by larger nationwide 2020 Omnibus Bill Protests. One of the early petitions which garnered thousands of signatures was titled “Indonesia Bersih, Presiden Tolak Revisi UU KPK!” echoing Bersih’s yearly electoral reform movement.

Ariel Heryanto argued that “pembangunan/development” has deeply shaped the social history of modern Indonesia beginning with Suharto’s New Order. There same can be said with Mahathir officially dubbed as “Bapa Kemodenan” and despite debates about what “Mahathirism” means, at the heart of it, lied some weird sense of “Malay economic backwardness” and the concept of “Bangsa Malaysia” of which its nationalism would be rooted in heavy industrialization and privatization.  

On the other hand of preoccupation with socio-economic prosperity which took a turn with the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis, Heryanto states that the Center for Development and Advancement of Language assisted the New Order government in ‘purifying society’s vocabulary and memory of political elements” where “demonstrasi” or “demo” has been officially replaced by the term “unjuk rasa”. In 1985, “buruh” and “Serikat Buruh” was officially replaced with “pekerja” and “Serikat Pekerja” citing its left-wing connotations which was later replaced by “karyawan” [1]. The same attempts at de-politicization happened in Malaysia with phasing out the student movement in higher education via the Universities and University Colleges Act 1971 while typically dismissing political mobilisations as ethnic strife dividing the nation. 

With heavy state interventions, the recent social movements under the black flag and accompanying hashtags have built their own vocabularies to capture their struggle and demands and utilize social media channels. #ReformasidiKorupsi was marked by the involvement of many musicians as well such as Ananda Badudu (one half of folk duo Banda Neira) who was arrested for funding the protest movement and Efek Rumah Kaca’s 2008 song “Mosi Tidak Percaya” resurfaced to form the one of the protests’ anthems: “Ini mosi tidak percaya, jangan anggap kami tak berdaya / Ini mosi tidak percaya, kami tak mau lagi diperdaya”. While singing another band formed by political science students from Universiti Indonesia called .Feast released the song “Peradaban” which could land you in jail whenever it was sung in front of DPR. The ending of the song prompted people to “Lawan, Kawan” while other lines of the song went:

Beberapa orang menghakimi lagi
Walaupun diludahi jaman seribu kali
Beberapa orang memaafkan lagi
Walau sudah ditindas habis berkali-kali

The protest anthems echoed the cyclical oppression their country continues to be embroiled in despite the masses having offered repeated chances, and an eventual call for people to reclaim power. It was part of the “air of optimism clouded the students who were once again labeling themselves as the agents for change. Labour unions sang the songs of revolutions […] The nation was hopeful that the massive protests could finally end the unjust state-citizens social contract deeply rooted in Indonesia’s political practices.” [2]

Badan Eksekutif Mahasiswa Universitas Indonesia initially gathered under a much more forgiving title “Gerak Kolaboratif Kamisan: Tolak Capim KPK Bermasalah” on 5 September hosting consecutive events. They eventually called for protests ranging in titles from “Aksi #NyalakanTandaBahaya” and “Aksi Menolak Upaya Pelemahan Pemberantasan Korupsi” before culminating into the title “Aksi #Reformasi diKorupsi” and “Aksi Tuntaskan Reformsi” on 19 September 2019. What began as holding Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi (KPK) accountable via their leader election process as an independent state agency tasked with eradicating corruption quickly developed in the span of weeks. Mass protests throughout the nation under the 7 demands were carried out with the passing of a bill to weaken the role of KPK on 17 September. Corruption remains at the heart of the 2019 protests like in 1998, the tagline of “Reformasi” is invoked and the continuation of the struggle and rejection of New Order with the tagline “Aksi atau Orba” or “Orba paling baru”:

“Reformasi merupakan hal yang telah diperjuangkan oleh seluruh elemen masyarakat, termasuk mahasiswa. Sejatinya, reformasi merupakan cerminan bahwa mahasiswa memiliki kekuatan besar sebagai penyambung lidah rakyat. Hal tersebut ditunjukkan melalui rangkaian perjuangan dan aksi mahasiswa.

Namun, hari ini reformasi justru dicederai melalui undang-undang yang berbanding terbalik dengan cita-cita reformasi. Korupsi yang menjadi faktor kunci terciptanya reformasi justru dihidupkan kembali. Demokrasi diberangus dengan pasal-pasal di RKUHP, rakyat kecil ditindas melalui RUU Pertanahan, dan masih banyak lagi produk hukum yang bermasalah.

Inilah saatnya seluruh elemen masyarakat terutama mahasiswa menyatakan sikap untuk mendesak pemerintah untuk segera menuntaskan reformasi, bukan justru memangkasnya! Mari, bersama kita lanjutkan perjuangan pada hari, tanggal: Selasa, 24 September 2019” 

On the other hand, the #Lawan movement began very differently with online protests, where netizens were encouraged to express dissent and their 3 demands via posting a picture of the black flag raised in their homes on social media. It eventually culminated in calls to protest physically via car drive-bys under the banner #KonvoiLawan and eventually a call to #KeluardanLawan gathering at Dataran Merdeka. With more police intimidation tactics used, “#LawanTetapLawan” would be used to signify doubling down on one’s beliefs, typically with a picture in front of IDP Dang Wangi. It was also adopted by Syed Saddiq after being charged with two counts of money laundering in a politically motivated move. The protest songs emphasized the government’s mishandling of the Covid-19 situation and also the importance of their voice:

lawan
derhaka
lawan
durjana

gagal bodoh bangsat
antara dua darjat
rakyat makin tenant
pembunuh dah melarat

suara bergema
minta jatuh segera
rasakanlah gempa
turun ke jalan raya

Rather than a larger system that has allowed corruption to thrive, Muhyiddin and his government are targeted as the “Koruptor” echoing the surge of the use of “Kleptocracy” and “Kleptokrat” for Najib and his administration’s role in 1MDB. With figureheads targeted as the problem, #KerajaanDerhaka was also adopted by the #Lawan movement after the Royal Palace issued a statement of disappointment that emergency ordinances had been revoked with His Majesty’s consent. With 3 demands, the #Lawan movement emphasizes the problem to be in in the government’s leadership unlike Indonesia’s demand for alternative political practices at large:

“Sekretariat Solidariti Rakyat menegaskan bahawa Kerajaan Perikatan Nasional tidak ada kemampuan untuk menyelamatkan negara ini keluar daripada pandemik Covid-19 serta kesannya terhadap ekonomi, kehidupan dan nyawa rakyat. 

Sudah tiba masanya rakyat mempunyai pemimpin yang sedar diri, bertanggunawab dan rendah hati dalam memahami denyut nadi rakyat. Kita tidak perlukan pemimpin yang sentiasa memperlekeh derita rakyat dan membuat keputusan yang menyusahkan rakyat jelata.

Kini rakyat perlu menunjukkan di mana letak duduk martabat kita dalam negara ini. Kita tidak ingin bermusuh dengan sesiapa melainkan politikus yang gila kuasa dan mengendahkan kesusahan yang dialami oleh rakyat.”

The Indonesian protests recognize that Reformasi was never a short-term struggle but one that would take decades and consistently hold the government accountable for, a struggle that anyone could take up. However, Reformasi in Malaysia continues to be tied closely to the political figure of Anwar Ibrahim. The freeing of Anwar Ibrahim and his party PKR garnering electoral victory in 2018 stirred people to utilize the Reformasi slogan rather than during the #Lawan movement. This continuation of a larger struggle under this banner of “Reformasi” is not necessarily felt in Malaysia having to deal with the conundrums of voting Mahathir back into power and having witnessed political careerism during the pandemic from all camps. 

Although there are plenty of differences between both very dynamic and decentralized social movements that are impossible to capture in this short article, they are both mobilized primarily by youths without political party affiliations and a deep critique against the failures of the government to make any politically meaningful changes. Unlike 1998, where particular politicians have been attributed with contributing to the movement in a big way, this time there is no such optimism in that the people in power have any interest to do so. From scathing protest slogans surrounding DPR such as #DewanPenghkianatRakyat and “Dewan Tikus Berdasi” and while Malaysia dubs opposition politicians that switched parties to no end to form the ruling party called the “11 Pengkhianat” and “Penipu Nasional”. As we struggle to carve out the countries we would like to see and create new vocabularies, solidarities, and ways to resist, let them know they messed with the wrong generation, let the black flag fly across the region!

 

[1] Ariel Heryanto, “Ideological Baggage and Orientations of the Social Sciences in Indonesia” in Vedi R. Hadiz and Daniel Dhakidae (eds.) Social Science and Power in Indonesia, (Jakarta and Singapore: Equinox Publishing and Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2005).  

[2] Aldo Marchiano Kaligis, A Year After Reformasi Dikorupsi Movement, The Whiteboard Journal, 10 September 2020, https://www.whiteboardjournal.com/column/a-year-after-reformasi-dikorupsi-movement/

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Jalsa Salana 2021

by Low Tse Yenn

 

Every year, Ahmadiyya Muslims around the world await the Jalsa Salana – a formal annual religious convention, which allows attendees and spectators alike to explore and expand upon their faith. The convection spans across 3 days, always beginning on a Friday after Friday prayers and coming to a close on a Sunday. While many countries often host their own national Jalsa, the Jalsa Salana UK is an international spectacle – drawing the eyes from Ahmadiyya Muslims worldwide as it is broadcasted on Muslim Television Ahmadiyya (MTA).

 

The Ahmadiyya Muslim community, who otherwise refer to themselves as the Jama’at, refers to the Islamic movement which exalts Mirza Ghulan Ahmad, a religious leader from Punjab, British India who rose to prominence in the 19th century, as the Messiah and Mahdi – the metaphorical second coming of Christ. Believers of this branch of Islam are referred to as Ahmadi Muslims – named after the prophet Muhammad’s alternative name, Ahmad.

 

This year marks the return of Jalsa Salana UK after its 2-year gap due to the Covid-19 pandemic., though accompanied by various health and safety measures. It was held on the 5th to 8th of August at the Hadeeqatul Mahdi, hosting a total of 8,887 invitees – 6,709 and 2,168 men and women respectively; though this pales in comparison to the usual 35,000 Ahmadis it usually draws from around the world.

 

The invitees were chosen by ballot while 4,000 Muslims who were unable to attend gathered virtually at 40 mosques and centers across the UK to watch the Jalsa. This stands testament to how Jalsa Salana is the largest annual Islamic convention in the UK, having run for over 50 years and organized every year by the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community (AMC)

 

On each day, an address was given by the global Islamic Caliph of the AMC – Hazrat Mirza Masroor Ahmad (aba), otherwise called Huzur by Ahmaddis. The Jalsa began with an inauguration, held at the Jalsa Gah – the stage and seating area where Huzur and attendees congregate. Here, Huzur affirms that while this year’s Jalsa might be small in size, it was nevertheless held to quench the spiritual thirst of the people and to allow those chosen to serve the guests of the Promised Messiah.

 

Through these addresses, Huzur commends the Jama’at’s great work – speaking of missionaries worldwide and testimonies from new believers. He speaks of the fruits of their labor, in the 211 mosques built, in the many new converts, in the numerous people reached through their publications and translations, and how connections between past and lost converts have been strengthened and rebuilt. He also details the good work done beyond the religious realm – speaking of their humanitarian and medical efforts in emergency situations worldwide.

 

Yet, at the core of his addresses are spiritually riveting sermons – ones that expands upon the core teachings of Islam. In his address on the last day, he builds upon sermons from prior Jalsas, speaking of the rights of others and how Ahmadis should act in propriety of them. He speaks on the rights of friends, the sick, the orphans, oaths, and others during the war – reiterating the significance of duty, righteousness, and intention. In the end, he closes the address as usual and ends the convention with a silent prayer.

 

Featured throughout the convention are interviews and testimonies by the invitees, staff, and volunteers. Here, they recount the significance of the Jalsa and the very visceral experience which accompanies it. Often, they speak of Huzur as an awe-inspiring and close figure – one they hold a deeply personal relationship with.

 

The Huzur commands a powerful presence, one which invokes in Ahmaddi Muslims a spiritual and emotional experience. Beyond the teachings and sermons the Jalsa will impart them, the Jalsa presents Ahmaddi Muslims the privilege of being in his presence and the chance to serve and hopefully meet him.

 

This year Jalsa’s stands as a feat in and of itself – a large convention held during one of the most vulnerable and dangerous periods in history. According to Huzur, the organizers had initially believed that the Jalsa would not be held due to the current Covid-19 conditions.

 

This assumption would continue to spill over to affect the preparations of the Jalsa – leading Huzur to believe that the organizers were not doing it with full conviction. Worrying that the half-hearted conditions of the organizers would affect the volunteers and workers, Huzur had expressed his concern to them – jolting them into a greater sense of urgency despite delays in preparation.

 

Huzur recognizes the workers and volunteers as the true driving force of the Jalsa. He mentioned that while many were disappointed that they were not chosen to serve, those that were chosen had fulfilled their duty to their utmost conviction and would be thoroughly rewarded by Allah. Though faced with weather setbacks such as heavy rain, the volunteers came together to dirty their hands with great spirit in order to help the many struggling cars in the muddied parking lots throughout the tiring weekend – showcasing a great display of their conviction.

 

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Dialect

by meixiu

 

My extended family finally made a WhatsApp group. Although everyone speaks Cantonese, my aunts, uncles and cousins communicate primarily in English via WhatsApp. On some occasions, they use voice notes to record themselves speaking in Cantonese. Other times, they resort to typing in loosely romanized Cantonese. This is how my family navigates not knowing written Cantonese.

My paternal side is Hokkien, eventhough no one knows how to speak it. My maternal side is Hakka, though many eventually learned Cantonese later in their life as Cantonese was the lingua franca of Malaysian Chinese in Kuala Lumpur and Ipoh. This was before vernacular schools drove the shift to Mandarin Chinese.

Barnes’ report in 1951 suggested the government should unify schools with Malay or English as the main language, while Chinese and Tamil would be taught as subjects. This suggestion was eventually incorporated in the Education Ordinance of 1952. The same year, the Fenn-Wu report was submitted. William P. Fenn was the associate executive secretary of the board of trustees for a number of institutions of higher learning in China. He and Wu Teh-yao, then an official at the United Nations, were invited by the federal government to conduct a study of Chinese schools in Malaya. This study became the Fenn-Wu report. [1] It was critical of the Barnes report and advocated for Chinese as a cultural language, promoting trilingualism.

On my maternal side, this shift to Mandarin Chinese was apparent. My mother was the last person educated in English as the medium of instruction before national secondary schools moved to Malay in the 1970s. My grandparents decided to send my younger uncles to Chinese-medium schools. By the 80s, the Selangor Chinese Chamber of Commerce and Industry launched the Speak Mandarin Campaign in Malaysia in 1980 and 1985, following the Singaporean government’s own campaign launched in 1979. This trend carried on to my cousins who went to a vernacular Chinese school at primary level and eventually went to a national secondary school rather than an independent Chinese school, thus becoming trilingual while I remained a banana as my mother is. My paternal side, on the other hand, did not prioritize education as much and hence did not experience this jarring split between “Chinese dialect” and “Mandarin Chinese” within their family like my maternal side did.

There have been concerted efforts to preserve Penang Hokkien due to its connections to the Peranakan community. It has also been recognized as a disappearing language. However, others dialects like Kuala Lumpur Cantonese, Sabahan Hakka, Sarawakian Hokkien and so on are not so lucky. These regional dialects have developed their own unique identity in Malaysia given exposure to other languages. There are endless Malay, Hokkien, Hakka, English and Tamil words in Malaysian Cantonese, such as 蘇嗎 (su1 ma1), from “semua”, while Hong Kong uses 全部 (chyun4 bou6). There is also bak1 sak1 from “pasar” while Hong Kong uses 市塲 (si5 ceong4). In true rojak fashion, you can also sprinkle Cantonese words in between non-Cantanose words. For instance: kacau can become kalan2cau.

With the 2019 Hong Kong protests, there was an eruption of discussion especially among the Malaysian Chinese community. A friend pointed out that many times, support for the Hong Kong protestors came down to whether you knew Cantonese or Mandarin as pro-democracy papers from Hong Kong were typically in Cantonese while pro-China news was evidently in Mandarin. The theory held true for my extended family. This said, there are still some gaps as Hong Kong slogans like 光復香港，時代革命 (gwong1 fuk6 hoeng1 gong2, si4 doi6 gaak3 ming6) made no sense to my parents, especially due to their political context. The protestors themselves have translated the phrase as “Hong Kong Restoration, Age of Revolution” before settling for “Liberate Hong Kong, Revolution of our times”. 革命 (gaak3 ming6) was also a word hardly used within Hong Kong prior to the slogan, but it has since become a main feature of the protests after the 721 Yuen Long attacks and the stand-off at Sheung Wan.

The political uprising in Hong Kong shows how the locals reassessed and played around with their language. On top of that, Cantonese romanization was also increasingly employed to localise their identity and ideas (and reflect the trilingual and biliterate policy Hong Kongers grew up with). Take for example the 2014 Umbrella Revolution where the unofficial Chinglish motto of the movement is “Hong Kong, Add Oil!”. Various news outlets such as localist magazine 100毛 demonstrated the increased use of the wider linguistic phenomenon Chinglish/Kongish […] which uses loose Cantonese romanisation, code-mixing and Hong Kong English to caption and share news updates in line with an understated localist agenda.” [2]

Another aspect of the protests was the consistent affirmation of “Chinese dialects” in Malaysia like Teo Chew, Hokkien, Hakka, Cantonese and Hainanese to be different languages. There was a movement to resist standardization through stressing such localizations and mixing of languages. These dialects are not mutually intelligible to Mandarin. The Speak Hokkien Campaign in Penang asserts this as well, pointing out that the similarity between Mandarin and Hokkien is less than that of English and German.

Hence, there is a need to reframe languages thought of as “dialects” within Malaysia that reflect the many varieties of Malaysian Chinese identities. “Dialects” typically have a reputation as a language that people default to in order to fully express their anger. The mixing of languages in Malaysia is typically celebrated for multiculturalism and achievement of the 1Malaysia agenda but the discourse on individual Malaysian Chinese and Indian identities really only begins and ends with if you are banana or coconut. Rarely do we assess the internal dynamics and identities of being Malaysian Chinese beyond defending its right to exist. It is as Li Zishu 黎紫书 asks: “In our generation, we have no homeland nor cultural origin [in China]. We grow up here [Malaysia]. How  do  we  face  this  place?  How  do  we  learn  about  ourselves?” [3]

There was a saga that happened a while after the 2019 protests surrounding Nigel Ng, a UK-based Malaysian comedian who became viral for his reaction video to BBC Food’s egg fried-rice fiasco. Ng was heavily criticized for apologizing on Weibo after featuring YouTuber Mike Chen, who has been openly critical of the CCP, in one of his videos. This prompted several netizens on Twitter to say it was an open secret that Malaysian Chinese were devoutly dedicated to their homeland, while others have praised Ng as a “vision of a globalised Asian citizen: he’s fluent in English and dresses stylishly.”

Teaching an English-speaking audience “haiya” and “fuiyoh” (Cilisos claims the latter is from Malay and Tamil!) while validating audiences from the east, Ng represents the dream many Malaysian Chinese have for their children, which is for them to eventually become international citizens in the West or East. However, ethnic Chinese continue to face the assumption that they carry “imputed nationalism: the assumption that Chinese outside China continue to focus on their Homeland, whether historically, culturally or even politically” and that they continue to expand the homeland into a global setting. [4] As the Hong Kong protests have opened up space to bring up regional identities and languages, maybe we in Malaysia should start challenging this assumption.

 

References

[1] Selvadurai, Sivapalan, Ong Puay Liu, Marsitah Mohd Radzi, Ong Puay Hoon, Ong Puay Tee, and Badariah Saibeh. “Debating education for nation-building in Malaysia: National school persistence or vernacular school resistance?.” Geografia-Malaysian Journal of Society and Space 11, no. 13 (2017), p. 15.

[2] Leung Rachel Ka Yin, “Word generation,” Mekong Review, September 2019 [https://mekongreview.com/word-generation/]

[3] Tse  Shuen,  “黎紫書的「閱」、「歷」人生,” Ming   Pao,  3 July 2017 [http://mingpaomonthly.com/mpm/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/bookc000180.pdf]

[4] Kuhn, Philip A. The homeland: Thinking about the history of Chinese overseas. Vol. 58. Canberra: Australian National University, 1997.

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Rethinking the Mamak Stall

by Yvonne Tan

 

Before the pandemic, like every other Malaysian, I would frequent the same mamak at all times of the day. Eventually the workers recognized me, and they too also remembered my friends that tagged along. However, after some time the workers themselves started disappearing one by one and never returned. When my friend prompted one of the remaining workers we recognized about where the rest went, there was only a short reply “kena tangkap” before it got awkward and moved on to our order.

There is no need to stress the cultural significance of mamak in Malaysia. Hailed as an everyman restaurant in proximity to just about anyone’s home and workplace, a relaxed atmosphere any time of the day and also an exemplar of Malaysia’s multiculturalism that celebrates the “inadvertent space for cosmopolitan togetherness by facilitating our enactment of a seemingly banal collective national pleasure and pastime: our love of food and eating” [1]. However, just as food plays a social role in bringing communities together, it also divides of which the latter we have yet to reckon with including the high cost to sustaining food identities only for the government-mandated three races. [2]

A UiTM study for a course assignment in January 2021 had conducted a small study of nine mamak stalls in Shah Alam took to social media to share their findings which eventually became viral on Twitter. The study showed that most workers in the mamak worked shifts of up to 12 hours a day with no overtime pay, no annual leave for at least 3 years and that abuse is rarely reported. It was also one of the first few times popular discourses on mamak was not simply about a special roti canai they had or how cheap the food was but rather how exploitative the business model was, and recognized that it was mostly run by exploited foreign workers despite being a hub of national pride.

The infographic also calls to be more understanding towards workers via the question “How to help them? Be kind”. As the initial assignment was to investigate the level of public awareness on the Malaysian Employment Act 1955 which prohibits such practices, the reality of upholding such protections is very different. This is of course not the first feature of mamak stall’s abusive labour practices. BBC’s feature story back in 2011 titled “Malaysian business’ labour dilemma” reported that workers had regular 16-hour shifts and still had to eventually close down most of its locations because of a shortage of foreign workers given the government had rejected their application for more Indian workers in an attempt to reduce the reliance on cheap labour while little is done to protect the rights of migrant workers.

Mamaks that get exported elsewhere consistently faced fines for breaching labour laws such as Mamak Pty Ltd in Sydney was fined twice for underpaying staff and allegedly forging false records to hide underpayments, however, the company was liquidated during the court case with an AUSD 1.3 million tax bill. New Naratif had also reported on the unsustainability of Singapore’s hawker model which has been made a “cultural institution” by the government with UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity recognition. Without opportunities to truly be equal members of Singaporean society via the hawker profession, with 12 to 14 hour working hours, more often than not 6 days a week, our neighbours also lament their diminishing hawker culture.

Lim in the article critiques the unpremeditated national celebration of systems unfavourable to hawker workers: “Yet we embrace and perpetuate a social and economic system that is essentially spawning more jobs like this [Business Development Managers], and that keeps Singaporean wages competitive partly by keeping the price of hawker food low, with the result that hawkers are driven out of the profession”. Lim’s critique has striking similarities to the food sector in Malaysia which has been supported by corruption and exploitation in our immigration and labour systems, but we too continue to welcome this system to ensure the price of hawker and mamak food remains low.

It is as Muniandy aptly describes “communities and individuals become enrolled as surplus within the capitalist economy – they serve the function of increasing profit margins, thanks to the devaluation of their lives and reduction as human waste, desperate to work at any cost, whose bodies become easily replaceable by the availability of more surplus populations.” [3]. Although the identity of mamak stall has always been rooted in migration, and celebrated as our national identity, it is but in a deeply exploitative setting where migrant workers are praised for doing a job that no Malaysian would do given the harsh working conditions.

And it has only gotten worse with the new wave of raids on migrants following MCO 3.0 where videos of authorities spraying disinfectant spray on them became viral and a now-deleted tweet featuring a poster by the Malaysian Immigration department stated: “Migran Etnik Rohingya Kedatangan Anda Tidak Diundang”. One of the recent images that surfaced during the raid was a man wearing a black “I Love KL” T-Shirt illustrating the poignancy of Malaysia’s intolerance despite being the highest recipient of migrant workers in Southeast Asia.

Hence, let us reassess the identity of the mamak which has become the exemplar of food as both a point of national unity and division. Lauded as democratic and popular spaces for multiculturalism when turning a blind eye to the plight of the migrant workers operating such stalls, the pandemic has amplified this divide. As memes of missing mamak food proliferate while another mass immigration crackdown is carried out, it is a dichotomy that we should reconcile with. Malaysian food continues to be a point of national pride for most of us and as empathy can be a starting point, there is a need to demand for change to the precarious systems that will eventually result in the end of such establishments with efforts by authorities every so often to curb “social ills” such as “concerns that the young spend too much idle time in such places and get involved in unhealthy activities […] besides being favourite haunts for foreign immigrants”.

 

References

[1] Duruz, Jean, and Gaik Cheng Khoo. Eating together: Food, space, and identity in Malaysia and Singapore. Rowman & Littlefield, 2014, p. 68.

[2] Perry, Melissa Shamini. “Feasting on culture and identity: Food functions in a multicultural and transcultural Malaysia.” 3L: Language, Linguistics, Literature® 23, no. 4 (2017): 184-199, p 186.

[3] Muniandy, Parthiban. “From the pasar to the mamak stall: refugees and migrants as surplus ghost labor in Malaysia’s food service industry.” Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 46, no. 11 (2020): 2293-2308, p. 2305.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Antara dua Darjat (MCO 3.0 version)

by Yvonne Tan

 

Whoever you thought was an untouchable celebrity, people have now decided they are not.

As the COVID-19 pandemic carries on and livelihoods are on the deep end, more than ever people are enraged at the class divides that determine how unaffected one can be from the pandemic. This phenomenon is of course a global one. Kim Kardashian was told to “read the room” when she posted her surprise birthday trip for the whole family to a private island. Meanwhile half of Hollywood has moved to Australia, earning the nickname “Aussiewood” and enraging the nation for the double standard as many Australians remain stranded overseas since its borders were closed.

Ahmad Fuad Rahmat argued “the class war” outrage against Vivy Yusof and Ashraf Ariff was now populist. The former reacted with a series of defamation lawsuits against netizens who “allegedly slandering her on the issue of the government helping the B40 and M40 groups affected by the Covid-19 outbreak”. She continued to make social media headlines afterwards for plagiarism issues from multiple local designers and threatened legal action against some. Soon after, Vivy Yusof doubles down on COVID-19 donations and Fashion Valet celebrates its 10th anniversary.

SEREMBAN, 20 Mei — Selebriti Noor Neelofa Mohd Noor dan suami, Muhammad Haris Mohd Ismail memasuki pekarangan Mahkamah Majistret hari ini bagi proses pendakwaan berhubung pelanggaran prosedur operasi standard (SOP) Perintah Kawalan Pergerakan Bersyarat (PKPB) yang ditularkan di media sosial pada 2 Mei lepas.
Neelofa dan suami mengaku tidak bersalah di Mahkamah Majistret di sini atas kesalahan melanggar SOP PKPB.
— fotoBERNAMA (2021) HAK CIPTA TERPELIHARA

By now, Neelofa’s wedding and Siti Nurhaliza’s son’s tahnik ceremony has been viral for the wrong reasons. Farah Nabilah and Neelofa’s honeymoon was met with intense backlash. Come Raya where many lamented they had already made preparations only to be told MCO 3.0 would be in effect. Outrage against ministers ensued and Neelofa was once again trending on Twitter for her consistent violation of SOP even in court. Norman Hakim, famous for his police role in Gerak Khas, came under fire as well for similar Hari Raya Aidilfitri family photos.

George Packer’s op-ed “Celebrating Inequality” situates modern celebrities through the lens of class. He argues that the modern American celebrity that was once the illusive, illicit “Great Gatsby” of the roaring twenties has been transformed into “self-invented” celebrities that commodify their persona that is associated with the consuming class:

The celebrity monuments of our age have grown so huge that they dwarf the aspirations of ordinary people, who are asked to yield their dreams to the gods: to flash their favourite singer’s corporate logo at concerts, to pour open their lives (and data) on Facebook, to adopt Apple as a lifestyle. We know our stars aren’t inviting us to think we can be just like them. Their success is based on leaving the rest of us behind [1].

Although Packer exclusively looked at America, Neelofa fits the bill. Far from her days on MeleTOP, today she is an Instagram influencer representing modest fashion which led to the creation of Naelofar Hijab and The Noor, marketing exclusively religious products for her ever-growing empire. Her choice to don the niqab and remove previous photos where she did not do so, her marriage to preacher PU Riz makes her the epitome of a celebrity anchored to an essential class identity in the B40 and M40. One could argue that it is the reason for her mass appeal especially when celebrity culture is typically associated with the erosion of traditional values. We are called to adopt a more religious lifestyle together with her products, but leaves us behind as her sponsored posts feature Swarvoski, Gucci and other luxury brands.

Azwan Ali became a fierce critic of Neelofa and other celebrities in this viral video filmed at Bangsar Village. In the interview, he spoke a mishmash of things from asserting his right to speak as “hak rakyat kita sebagai orang Malaysia”, his knowledge of the law and that people should not fear to voice out their opinion. However, he offhandedly mentioned that the government is not to be blamed and that the law should be followed. I am inclined to believe Azwan Ali’s sentiment represents the outrage towards celebrities.

Amid social media calls for brands to boycott Neelofa, like Vivy Yusof before, with many petitions floating around the internet, there is a sense of participation that is central to celebrity culture. People are being sorely reminded that despite the clear double standard on display, class divides remain pervasive but there is still a clear belief that the law should be upheld, and people like Neelofa should be treated the same as everyone, rather than an overhaul of the system.

“Celebrity is a form of improvisatory, excessive public theatre. It is class pantomime” [2] where participation whether in support or in humiliation is central to celebrity culture. Some would argue that people derive entertainment from engaging even virtually via boycott campaigns, petitions, social media hashtagging and so on. Discontent is growing and only time will tell if it expands into a sustained critique of our penal institutions as for now it remains targeted to specific high-profile individuals who were once held in high regard in Malay pop culture.

During the ongoing outrage directed against Neelofa, a small tide turned a little into questioning the police on a separate matter. In stark contrast within the span of almost a month, there have been two deaths in police custody at Gombak district police headquarters (IPD). Security guard Sivabalan Subramaniam died within an hour in police custody while cow milk trader A. Ganapathy succumbed to his injuries caused by police brutality after spending over a month at the Selayang Hospital’s intensive care unit. The Gombak police chief has openly threatened the general public for questioning the events leading up to Ganapathy’s death and made an example by investigating Syed Saddiq’s TikTok video under Section 503 of the Penal Code and Section 233 of the Communications and Multimedia Act.

Some groups have called to bring back the Independent Police Complaints and Misconduct Commission (IPCMC) Bill 2019. As #JusticeForGanapathy and #BrutalityinMalaysia trends alongside #Neelofa in Malaysia, the two ends of the Malaysian social media have yet to be placed side by side as a clear representation of the deep class divides that plague Malaysia. Unlike Neelofa who is caught in a media storm, Ganapathy and Subramaniam were on the receiving end of disciplinary power exercised through its invisibility.

References

[1] Packer, G. 19 May 2013. ‘Celebrating Inequality’ The New York Times [https://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/20/opinion/inequality-and-the-modern-culture-of-celebrity.html]

[2] Tyler, I. and Bennett, B., 2010. ‘Celebrity chav’: Fame, femininity and social class. European journal of cultural studies, 13(3), pp.375-393, p. 380.

 

 

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24th April 2021

by Yvonne Tan

 

24 April 2021, Fahmi Reza lifted up the three-finger salute after being detained for alleged sedition. Far from Dang Wangi police station, the United Front of Thammasat and Demonstration stood for 112 minutes, symbolic for their rejection of the lèse-majesté law, Section 112 and their friends who have been imprisoned under the criminal code for their role in the Thai democracy demonstrations. The Hunger Games salute was also prominent, which was initially used to signal the three demands of the rallies in its early stage of last year: resignation of Prayut Chan-o-cha and his cabinet, end intimidation of the people and redrafting a new constitution.

BANGKOK, THAILAND – FEBRUARY 01: Demonstrators and activist Parit ‘Penguin’ Chiwarak make the three finger salute during a protest outside the Embassy of Myanmar in Bangkok, Thailand on February 01, 2021. Burmese demonstrators gathered in front of the Myanmar Embassy in Bangkok on the day Myanmar’s military detained State Counsellor of Myanmar Aung San Suu Kyi and declared a state of emergency while seizing the power in the country for a year after losing the election against the National League for Democracy (NLD). (Photo by Guillaume Payen/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images)

On the same day in Indonesia as well, there were protests outside of the ASEAN Secretariat to oppose the ongoing ASEAN leaders’ meeting with Myanmar’s military junta chief, Min Aung Hlaing in attendance. They flash the three-finger salute to show solidarity with the people in Myanmar, who have also adopted the symbol to represent their ongoing Civil Disobedience Movement. These events, as you may know, also fall under the wider solidarity movement encapsulated by the hashtag #MilkTeaAlliance.

Nevertheless, an intriguing part of the hashtag and its offline solidarity mobilization has also fostered dialogue of reevaluating racist propaganda by respective governments. Take for example Thailand and Myanmar. Just as in Malaysia, migrants from Myanmar bore the brunt of the blame during COVID-19 in Thailand.

Besides viewing Myanmar people as indispensable cheap migrant labourers, Thai people have been taught by their national curriculum that Myanmar people were a threat to the Thai nation-state, based on state “interpretation” of the Burmese-Siamese war and the fall of the Kingdom of Ayutthaya attributed to the Burmese in 1767. It goes vice versa as well, as Myanmar people recognized they also had a similar education system where they were taught to view Thailand as the adversary in their history textbooks.

However, becoming disillusioned with their own authoritarian governments and subsequently reevaluating the narratives they propagated, Tanyalak Thongyojaroen explicates this phenomenon:

Thais have learned about Myanmar people in their everyday lives rather than solely from state-developed propaganda textbooks in social-studies classes. “Actually, Myanmar people are good,” a Thai protester told me last week. “I have to be here to support them because we want genuine democracy.”

Bridging mutual understanding of the sociopolitical situation in Myanmar and the immense sacrifice its people are making every day for a chance of having a civilian government with Thai students who have risked their future at an opportunity of a more democratic Thailand has led them to protest numerous times together on Thai soil. This led to both protestors adopting similar slogans such as “Let it end with our generation”, “You messed with the wrong generation”, “We reject military coup of all kinds” and adopting similar resistance symbols.

This brings us to Malaysia. Myanmar people continues to be viewed through the lens of not only as “migrant workers” but Pendatang Asing Tanpa Izin. The rhetoric of PATI spread like wildfire during COVID-19, implying there was immense trust in our systems to ensure no one was wrongly charged and belief that they were spreading the government’s resources thin. This is despite having little to no transparency and the immigration department’s long history of corruption and abuses, on top of its links to human trafficking. When the deportation of the 1,086 Myanmar nationals went through despite the Kuala Lumpur High Court order, while there were revived #MigranJugaManusia online protests, there was also a strong sentiment that they should simply be “sent back to where they came from”.

This sort of sentiment is not new of course. It has also been a year since Zafar Ahmad Abdul Ghani, a Rohingya refugee who fled persecution, continues to be the victim of online attacks when false demands for a Malaysian citizenship were attributed to him. Until today he receives death threats and has been diagnosed with depression. The anti-migrant rhetoric has become so prominent that during the ASEAN summit on the same 24 April, Muhyiddin Yassin mentioned that he would like Myanmar asylum seekers, including Rohingya refugees, to be granted “safe return” due to Malaysia’s “anti-refugee sentiments”. This is despite the fact that terrible crimes against humanity are currently being carried out by the military junta throughout Myanmar. He stated “our resources and capacity are stretched in the management of refugees and asylum seekers, further compounded by the COVID-19 pandemic. Our detention centres are now already overcrowded […] they were once accorded sympathy, but the mood on the ground has turned from affinity to anger, with anti-refugee sentiment rapidly building up”.

It was once impossible for Thai and Myanmar people to stand in solidarity against their respective military coups, but they have shown us it is possible. With renewed camaraderie, the Thai pro-democracy protestors have been highly critical of Prayut’s support for the Tatmadaw and blocking fleeing refugees from Myanmar. Although the problem is far from solved, as some circles have seen the refugee crisis as a point of praise for Prayut’s military coup unlike Myanmar’s, there are still strong voices holding the government accountable to do right by their neighbours.

2018 was supposed to be a watershed moment for Malaysia with many articles citing what had happened as an opportunity for the region. Failure to view our struggles as interconnected against our increasingly authoritarian governments is a failure to understand why people from Myanmar have to flee in the first place. It is but easy to fall back on the economic prosperity of one’s country as a reason to morally judge and treat those from countries that are not so lucky.

And it is but worse to believe one’s country would be threatened by the influx of those fleeing persecution who value peace, is but a highly powerful rhetoric that has gripped us for far too long. The coronavirus pandemic has provided an opportunity for the strongmen of the Southeast Asian region to consolidate more power and in the process “over-emphasize our personal responsibility for the [coronavirus] problem, demanding that we pay more attention to […] behavioral issues. Such a focus on individual responsibility, necessary as it is to some degree, functions as ideology the moment it serves to obfuscate the bigger questions of how to change our entire economic and social system” [1]. With this overemphasis on individual responsibility, it is but tragic to use the responsibility as a means to embolden ourselves towards supporting the removal of the people of Myanmar in Malaysia. Our neighbours have seen through this, and have stood together in rejection of despotic regimes.

Out of fear, Myanmar people have not publicly protested en masse in Malaysia unlike its diaspora in Thailand, Australia, Taiwan, Japan and so on. However, one high profile act of resistance was by Hein Htet Aung, from Selangor FC II. He celebrated his goal win with the three-finger salute. He was then suspended for a game, with netizens supporting the idea of “not bringing over one’s politics to another’s soil”. Echoing the same fear of importing instability, it is only fitting to say, “it must be a fragile system if it can be brought down by a few berries”.

References

[1] Žižek, Slavoj. Pandemic!: COVID-19 shakes the world. OR Books 2020, p. 88.

 

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The Interpretation of Women

by Faisal Tehrani (Translated from “Tafsir untuk Perempuan”)

 

THERE is a book by Faqihuddin Abdul Kodir, an Indonesian scholar that I think is very interesting. It’s called Qira’ah Mubadalah: Progressive Interpretation for Gender Justice in Islam. It reminds me of a video published by Projek Dialog with a similar title ‘Feminism is not Anti-Islamic’ (2013) which discusses the fears that some have of this idea.

 

The Qira’ah Mubadalah book will definitely answer various criticisms and negative comments against the speaker in the video, namely Saudara Suri Kempe. Qira’ah Mubadalah was created from a discussion to read and view the holy verses of the Qur’an from a cross-cutting perspective, its discourse and with the aim of giving a debate on women’s rights in a more transparent and honest manner. It’s a disturbing read of course for those who are closed-minded, but fresh for those who dare to quarrel with self -ratio. It does not in any way dismantle or reject the thought of classical scholars, but rather celebrates it; but more importantly, the book adds value so that there is an alternative to existing readings.

The author created this reading in a meticulous manner. It has gone through debate, discussion and acceptance through various non-governmental organizations in Indonesia. Even the concept presented by Faqihuddin emerged from his dissertation at Gajah Mada University in 2015 in which he discussed the hadiths in the Tahrir al-Mar’ah fi ‘Ashr al-Risalah.

The intention of this book is to look at gender fairly. Therefore, it poses a heavy challenge, which is to no longer read the sacred text patriarchally.

How is it done? The policy of the debate or the idea of ​​Mubadalah begins by emphasizing the monotheism of Islam, the basis and core of the faith which is completely anti-patriarchal. The author argues that the Qur’an should not be misunderstood at all and that Prophet Muhammad came to humanize the ignorant Arabs, and to return the status of humanity to women. Before the arrival of the Prophet, unfortunately, women were not considered human. Women in the age of ignorance were oppressed at will. They are slaves to lust, women are given gifts, debt security, hostages, to be raped, married or divorced, to the point of being buried alive simply because of their gender.

The tawhid introduced by the Prophet Muhammad negates all of the above by comparison, the woman to that of a man. The method of Islamic improvement is by applying the teaching, in which the origin of the creation of women is the same as that of men. Second, no creature is better than women but in fact, men and women are the caliphs of Allah on earth. So with that thirdly, women should only dedicate themselves to Allah, not to the husband or father where piety is the real measure used by the Divine.

Maka Mubadalah membawa kita menelusuri perlahan-lahan bagaimana Islam memberikan pengajaran bertahap untuk bangsa Arab agar menerima pembaikan untuk wanita ini. Jika sebelumnya lelaki tiada had untuk mengahwini dan meniduri perempuan; kini ada batasnya di mana monogami lebih dianjurkan kerana ia jauh lebih adil dari poligami. Juga bangsa Arab jahiliah digoncang lagi oleh Islam apabila nilai kesaksian perempuan diperhalusi, serta bahagian warisannya untuk perempuan diperkukuhkan supaya niat Islam iaitu untuk mendobrak tradisi patriarki masyarakat Arab berhasil disampaikan oleh al-Quran dan Rasulullah saw sendiri.

So Mubadalah allows us to slowly explore how Islam provides a gradual lesson for the Arabs to treat women better. If previously men had no limit to marrying and sleeping with women; there is now a limit to where monogamy lies as it is fairer than polygamy. Also, the ignorant Arabs were shaken again by Islam when the value of women’s testimony was refined, as well as making the share of heritage for women stronger so that the Islamic intention of breaking the patriarchal tradition of the Arab community was successfully conveyed by the Quran and Rasulullah saw himself.

The methodology of this reading is determined by looking at the text by category, namely the text of mabadi ‘(general Islamic values); the text is viewed as qawa’id (a more specific value in life) and finally the juz’i text in which certain behaviours are dealt with specifically. It is this ability and hard work or ijtihad that we do not find in the Muslim community in Malaysia. Our scholars almost failed by not doing so.

Therefore, in this lengthy book – 616 pages long – for example, he tries to reconsider the meaning of the hadith ‘women that lack in intellect and religion’ by looking at the full context of his words. Is it true that was what the Prophet meant by, that women are stupid? Or is intercourse (sexual activity) really analysed, where it’s considered as charity and something that is necessary, even when the woman is unwilling to do so.

What makes it even better is the author’s ability to master the science of hadith and tafsir. Thus, providing a meaningful space for debate, very meaningful that we do not see it in the discourse on women’s jurisprudence among us, even by our scholars who have a doctorate in hadith.

Therefore, this book not only re-examines the gender text as a whole, but also ranks and establishes women as equal to men. This is done so that the claim that women are the source of slander is refuted and no longer accepted recklessly. The issues of nusyuz, polygamy, iddah and child-rearing are given a great context so that they are not isolated in just one space. It seeks to liberate women where the issue of women’s prominence as scholars are given attention. This includes resolutely challenging the position of women as the prayer imam. Then, the hadith ‘it will not be happy for the people to leave the affairs of their leadership to a woman’ as an example is seen not on the issue of gender but rather, is actually a prophecy of the Prophet Muhammad on the fall of the Persian empire at the hands of a woman. Reading this perspective provides us with logic for today’s world where women’s leadership is far more successful than men’s, as highlighted by Chancellor Merkel in Germany or the Prime Minister of New Zealand, Jacinda Adern.

It is difficult for us to dispute this author’s study which comes with various sources, from the classical scholars themselves to making us collectively agree that women and feminist rights demands (hence feminism) are in fact a human rights claim that Islam has long championed. This book will make our patriarchal scholars lose. 

This book should be read by every man and woman, especially scholars in the field of Islamic studies as it provides much more values to the discussion of gender. Thus, we will no longer ridicule speakers or supporters of feminism for not wearing a headscarf, or being familiar or fluent in Arabic terms that do have the gender of muzakkar and muannats. 

The book can be purchased online through its publisher Diva Press.