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Malaysia: death of a democracy
Hardcover
First published January 1, 1969
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
February 24, 2011
My parents were 15 years old on May 13, 1969. Their age group peers who survived the racial riots of Malaysia (which began on May 13 1969) are now managers, directors, ministers, congress representatives, and all that jazz. While reading John Slimming's Death of a Democracy, I was shocked to see how bad the atrocities were (on par with Japanese war crimes, or worse).
In a flash, I realized: the survivors of the worst racial incident Malaysia has seen are now the people leading the country. These people carry memories of such crimes as an 11-year-old boy, ferried home from school, dropped off meters from his house, and shot dead as he was running to the safety of his own house. These people carry memories of a shop, burned down with 4 young children still inside (because the shopkeeper and his wife only managed to escape with one child). These people carry memories of starving with nothing but tapioca roots to eat, while less than a kilometer away, the army guarded a stockpile of food that was only for one racial group. These people carry memories of police officers being ordered by their superiors to shoot and kill instead of attempting peaceful control.
The result? An entire generation of people who were children during the racial riots, whose most indelible childhood impression is of this expression of racial hatred. They don't trust the government, because the government was broadcasting "all is well" over the radio while people were being shot or hacked to death with parangs on the streets they lived on. This explains a lot about why my mother and father believe the way they do, why they're so disappointed with my sister's friendships with non-Chinese, why interracial dating in Malaysia among my generation is such a no-no amongst our elders. Even when they try to understand and try to tolerate their children's feelings--my generation, those of us born in the 70s and 80s who have only the vaguest of ideas what happened in 1969--dude, would you forget the time your entire neighborhood was wiped out?
These are just the atrocities I can bear to remember. There were far, far worse, but I can't stand to recall them right now. I made myself sick with depression yesterday, reading up on this. The worst part was that the government swept all of this under the carpet. May 13 was only mentioned in passing in all of my history books at school, and for a very long time it was pretty much impossible to get anything on the subject in bookstores. Even libraries--I don't think I've ever seen this in the National Library. It might be in there, or in the National Archives. But I don't remember ever seeing anything about it. I had to leave Malaysia to learn about it.
And these scarred and damaged people are trying to run a country with the people they've hated since they were children.
No wonder Malaysia's racial tensions are increasing.
In a flash, I realized: the survivors of the worst racial incident Malaysia has seen are now the people leading the country. These people carry memories of such crimes as an 11-year-old boy, ferried home from school, dropped off meters from his house, and shot dead as he was running to the safety of his own house. These people carry memories of a shop, burned down with 4 young children still inside (because the shopkeeper and his wife only managed to escape with one child). These people carry memories of starving with nothing but tapioca roots to eat, while less than a kilometer away, the army guarded a stockpile of food that was only for one racial group. These people carry memories of police officers being ordered by their superiors to shoot and kill instead of attempting peaceful control.
The result? An entire generation of people who were children during the racial riots, whose most indelible childhood impression is of this expression of racial hatred. They don't trust the government, because the government was broadcasting "all is well" over the radio while people were being shot or hacked to death with parangs on the streets they lived on. This explains a lot about why my mother and father believe the way they do, why they're so disappointed with my sister's friendships with non-Chinese, why interracial dating in Malaysia among my generation is such a no-no amongst our elders. Even when they try to understand and try to tolerate their children's feelings--my generation, those of us born in the 70s and 80s who have only the vaguest of ideas what happened in 1969--dude, would you forget the time your entire neighborhood was wiped out?
These are just the atrocities I can bear to remember. There were far, far worse, but I can't stand to recall them right now. I made myself sick with depression yesterday, reading up on this. The worst part was that the government swept all of this under the carpet. May 13 was only mentioned in passing in all of my history books at school, and for a very long time it was pretty much impossible to get anything on the subject in bookstores. Even libraries--I don't think I've ever seen this in the National Library. It might be in there, or in the National Archives. But I don't remember ever seeing anything about it. I had to leave Malaysia to learn about it.
And these scarred and damaged people are trying to run a country with the people they've hated since they were children.
No wonder Malaysia's racial tensions are increasing.
February 9, 2021
Ebook : pdf
Came to read this because of Hanna Alkaf's The Weight Of Our Sky. Slim book, sensational content, a journalist's report of what he saw on the ground.
Came to read this because of Hanna Alkaf's The Weight Of Our Sky. Slim book, sensational content, a journalist's report of what he saw on the ground.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews