Chapter 6 Great Nation, Great Leaders (Cont’d)

Malaysian Leadership

The political leadership of Malaysia is in Malay hands; consequently there is a strong influence of Malay culture.

In traditional Malay society, the government (kerajaan), despite its seemingly formal structure of rulers and ministers, had in reality no effective power. Those officials were essentially royal courtiers, not administrators. The Malay Negara, according to the anthropologist Clifford Geertz, was a theater state, with little resemblance to the modern political state as we know it. Court and state officials were merely playing their role as in a sandiwara or theater. To say that the traditional Malay bendahara (prime minister), menteri (minister), and laksamana (admiral or defense minister) are the equivalent of their modern counterparts, as the literal translations would imply, involves considerable “concept stretching.” Operationally, they bore no resemblance to the political leaders of a modern state. Or to quote Geertz’s elegantly succinct prose, “their energies were parochial and ambitions cosmic.”21

Traditional Malay leaders did not lead; on the contrary they served more as icons for the peasants to revere, much like the idols and statues representing the deity that are common in Hindu households. Hinduism was the prevailing pre-Islamic Malay culture. Consequently the peasants could easily transfer their allegiance from those lifeless idols to the real live sultans and their courtiers.

These peasants implicitly believed in their leaders; it is a matter of faith, much like their belief on those idols. If those peasants did not show sufficient reverence, those sultans, like the gods on the altar, could unleash their wrath on those poor hapless villagers. This is still the belief and concept Malays have of their leaders.

Malays believe that their leaders—especially the sultans—are divinely ordained to rule; they have daulat (mandate from God). The sultans in turn behave accordingly, they consider themselves as God’s representatives on earth. Malays venerate their sultans and attribute mystical powers and God-like authority to them—rahmat. Sultans can do no wrong, and of course their every whims must be attended to, for like God, there would be hell to pay should the peasants “diss” or in any show disrespect for their Gods and sultans.

In my book With Love, From Malaysia, I related an incident while assisting in the surgery of one of the sultanahs (the sultan’s official, in contrast to ‘unofficial,’ wife).22 I was shaving her scalp and was about to throw the clippings into the garbage can (as I do with all patients’ hair) when I felt a sudden powerful grip on my wrist directing it to a yellow shawl on a silver tray. I let go of the clippings and the royal nurse then carefully folded the shawl and solemnly with great ceremony took it away. To her (and other Malays), that hair had divine attributes.

It is not surprising that this mysticism, of being specially selected by God, would percolate down to the lowly village headman. Prime Minster Tunku Abdul Rahman once related how as a junior district officer in Kedah, he met a village palm reader who predicted that the young Tunku would one day lead his nation. Similarly when Abdullah Badawi became prime minister, the newspapers highlighted how his great grandfather, a religious teacher (another leader in Malay society presumed to have mystical abilities), predicted a great future for his newborn great grandson. The surprise is that the Malay masses in this 21st century still believe in such silly lore.

We all have had our palms read and future predicted at carnivals and the like, but we never took that seriously.

Malay leaders purposely do not discourage this legend and myth making. Though it would be considered blasphemous were they to claim any divine calling, nonetheless they encourage through their deeds, ceremonies and pronouncements that they too have wahyu—divine radiance. Thus when they visit their constituencies, there are always many hangers-on ready with their umbrellas to protect these leaders, together with the ceremonial sprinkling of holy water and flower petals. Of course the peons and peasants would bow low, grovel themselves in the most humiliating and degrading way, and then top it off by kissing the leader’s hand.

At least Malays are not as bad as the Thais. As seen in the movie, The King and I, they had to prostrate themselves on the floor when approaching their king, and then awkwardly retreat in the same fashion.

The current tradition within UMNO that its two top leaders not be challenged has less to do with threats to party unity and stability, as its leaders ceaselessly remind the membership, but everything to do with reinforcing this illusion of being divinely destined, and therefore not to be challenged by mere mortals. Thus Malays rarely question their leaders; that would be akin to questioning one’s god or idol. The leaders encourage this attitude; hence Mahathir’s wrath on those Malays who dared question his leadership. Even supposedly modern Malays tend to deify their leaders, both the royal and non-royal variety. In late 2006 when Mahathir lobbed those stinging criticisms at Prime Minister Abdullah, his (Abdullah’s) ministers instinctively rallied around him. Much to his chagrin, Mahathir found himself “blacked out” by the government-controlled mainstream media despite the fact that he was a popular and highly effective Prime Minister for over 22 years.

Many sultans today are appointed to be chancellors (titular head) of public universities. Observe how the senior academic staff, men with impressive PhDs from modern western universities, genuflect and grovel themselves in front of these sultans. A simple handshake would not do it when greeting these royal visitors. No! One has to bow down low, clasp one’s hands together bringing them to the forehead, and then only would one dare shake the royal hand. That still would not be enough, now one has to also kiss it!

With leaders expecting to be treated like gods and the masses obligingly feeding that illusion, little wonder that this vicious cycle is difficult to break. Even lowly village heads expect to be treated like mini sultans. In the classrooms, especially in Islamic Studies, the teachers too want to be so treated; anything less would be considered disrespectful. Hence there are few discussions; asking a question would be viewed as being disrespectful. Religious teachers have been known to chant Arabic mumbo jumbo (purportedly readings from the Quran) in order to cast a spell on wayward students. Not that it would do any good.

Malay leaders do not serve their subjects; instead they expect to be served. In classical Malay literature, all the sultans had to do was to merely sound the gong, and the villagers would all stop what they were doing and rush to the palace inquiring what it was their sultan wanted of them.23 Today’s Malay leaders are no different, endlessly exhorting their followers to do their (leaders’) bidding. Sadly, this pattern is entrenched among today’s Malay leaders, a phenomenon I refer to as the Sultan Syndrome: leaders behaving as detached figureheads rather than engaged executives.

Abdullah Badawi, like the first Prime Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman, exhibited this sultan syndrome very early in his tenure. Mahathir too exhibited this tendency, but towards the end of his term. These leaders set an unfortunate pattern for the citizens. The sultan syndrome is rampant in the civil service; no surprise as the service is essentially a Malay institution.

There is no problem with having a symbolic or titular head as long as you have capable executives under you. Tunku successfully played the role of sultan while being prime minister because he had as his deputy the very able Tun Razak. Tun effectively ran the country while Tunku received all the credit.

I read somewhere that such a system also operates at embassies of the old Soviet empire. The ambassador was only the symbolic head while his number two (the Chef de Mission) was actually in charge and wielded all the power and decision making. In that way the ambassador could get himself drunk at parties or otherwise involve himself in embarrassing behaviors, but the state secrets would not be compromised.24 Ingenious idea!

In the Malaysian public service however, there is no capable number two to be the effective executive running the show. All the underlings are busy being mini sultans in their own little bureaucratic fiefdom. Hence the whole administrative system collapses, and nothing gets done.

Next: Leadership In The Era of Globalization

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 5th, 2007 at 5:34 pm and is filed under Towards A Competitive Malaysia. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.