Introduction
During the colonial era, Gurkhas from Nepal were an integral part of the British Indian Army and thereafter, during the post-colonial and contemporary periods, they continued to assume significance in former British colonies in Asia such as Malaysia, Singapore, and Brunei. Over two centuries, they have sustained a reputation for being an elite security force. Up until today, there is a British Gurkha garrison in Brunei which came into being in the 1960s, and a Gurkha Contingent in Singapore which has had a presence for 75 years. The Gurkhas are ‘ethnic soldiers’Footnote 1 who are highly reputed for their ‘martial’ prowess and perceived political neutrality. This article critically engages with ‘apolitical warriors’ as a conceptual tool for understanding how Gurkhas and their families are discursively embedded in political discourses, particularly concerning ideas of inclusion and exclusion. The apolitical tenor of Gurkhas is a key characteristic that influences their status as ‘military migrants’Footnote 2 and shapes notions of (non-)belonging in nations in which they have long served.
The notion of ‘apolitical warriors’ introduces further legal distinctions and nuances for analysis, particularly concerning the classification of individuals as mercenaries. As per Article 47 of the Additional Protocol of the Geneva Convention, certain groups serving as regular uniformed soldiers are not considered mercenaries. Wilson highlights that due to pressure from major Western powers, personnel such as French Foreign Legionaries and the Gurkhas in the British Army were excluded on the grounds they were serving in permanently integrated units.Footnote 3 Britain differentiated Gurkhas from mercenaries on the basis of their permanence and their long and distinguished record of service to the British crown.Footnote 4 However, under the ambit of international law, Sharma posits that Gurkhas fall somewhere between ‘fighters and mercenaries’.Footnote 5 The latter is especially so if Gurkhas are joining parties for citizenship policy or lucrative pay and more so if the Nepal government is unable to prohibit them from signing contracts in an individual capacity.Footnote 6 Moreover, while historical factors such as treaties or their status as regular soldiers in the British Army are deemed to account for the misnomer of labelling them as mercenaries, contemporary trends such as the ‘proliferation of private military and security companies (PMSCs) since the 1990s’Footnote 7 and the recent development of thousands of Nepali migrants being recruited by Russia to participate in the Ukraine war,Footnote 8 in effect, give credence to mercenaryism and complicates our understanding of the notion. As such, ‘military migrants’ or ‘foreign soldiers’Footnote 9 offers a less contentious alternative to the term ‘mercenaries’.
Broadly speaking, in Southeast Asia, the idea of being ‘apolitical’ as it relates to foreign fighters or transnational soldiering is associated with being ‘neutral’ or ‘impartial’. Unlike British Gurkhas, where citizenship pathways are available, there exists a notable absence of such opportunities for individuals serving in Singapore and Brunei. This absence is attributed to the perception that their capacity for impartiality during times of conflict stems from their political disenfranchisement and detachment from the societal dynamics of the nations they serve. Gurkhas, historically, are organised with the explicit understanding that they will not be employed in Nepal itself. This, as Enloe posits, is a more typical ‘martial race’ unit deployment pattern. She explains that they are partly brought into armies because they are culturally — and politically — distant from the majority of the population. Thus, in the event that the rest of the army becomes disaffected or begins to empathise with civilian dissidents, ‘martial’ groups such as the Gurkhas, will stand by the central regime, which has conferred jobs and prestige on them.Footnote 10
The concept of ‘apolitical warrior’ as it applies to military labour in the context of Southeast Asia deserves fuller treatment. Two caveats are essential to consider when attempting to understand the implications of this logic. First, it is important to recognise that while they are expected to assume an impartial disposition during their service, this does not mean that Gurkhas are apolitical in all situations or that they are devoid of political beliefs or identities. In fact, in recent years as we will see, the impact of contract para-military service has influenced claims to citizenship and belonging in the nations that they served in. Second, while the Gurkhas may seem to their political masters as being ‘apolitical’, arguably some would contend that the role that they played historically and continue to perform can be interpreted as political. So, for instance, during the Malayan Emergency, as Gurkhas were instruments of British geo-political interests, they would not have been perceived by the communists as being apolitical. Similarly, in Singapore in the 1950s and 1960s and in Brunei in 1962, they were used by the state to suppress riots and/or political rebellions.
Here, the condition of being ‘apolitical’ intersects with and is used interchangeably with conceptions of ‘neutrality’ or ‘impartiality’. It is observed that migrant workers are often seen primarily as ‘economic agents’ and thus, ‘overwhelmingly apolitical and passive’.Footnote 11 In contrast, military migrants, though similarly perceived as being apolitical, are valued more for their policing role and as such are regarded more as security agents rather than economic agents. So, how then do we conceptually approach the notion of ‘apolitical warriors’ in the context of military migration, what is its nature and purpose, and does it necessarily suggest political passivity? Through the concept of ‘apolitical warriors’, this article seeks to convey a sense of how socio-political bonds or the lack thereof are constructed, reproduced, and sustained through political narratives of ‘impartiality’ and ‘martiality’ and are further enacted through performative renderings during commemorative events. It pays particular attention to public commemorative events as a way to tease out the ‘boundaries of “difference”, inclusion and exclusion’Footnote 12 that inform the social worlds of Gurkhas as military migrants. ‘Apolitical warriors’ as it applies to Gurkhas and by extension their families, thus, entails a variety of dynamics shaped by historical, legal and socio-political factors, with implications for their role in conflict situations and their status in society.
In Southeast Asia, while few studies have explored various aspects of memory-making in Singapore and Malaysia, research on the role and participation of migrant groups is few and far between. Some scholars have examined historical episodes such as the Second World WarFootnote 13 or memorial remembrancesFootnote 14 and museumsFootnote 15 to further our understanding of the contested nature of memory politics, nationalism, and nation-building processes among different social actors, particularly citizens (i.e., Singaporeans or Malaysians). Through oral history interviews, Kevin Blackburn and Karl HackFootnote 16, for example, highlight personal narratives of individuals from different communities — Chinese, Malays, Indians, Eurasians, British, and Australians — to demonstrate multi-layered narratives about war memory and lived experiences. Taken together, while there is a small body of literature that draws out the connections between the politics — and the political uses — of war memory in Southeast Asia, there is a lacuna in scholarship that attends to the relationship between commemorative remembrances and issues concerning social integration and belonging vis-à-vis migrant groups. The enduring historical memory of the Gurkhas, for example, as brave warriors and their continued role in remembrances as transnational soldiers, therefore, warrants attention. Commemorative remembrances held in Singapore and Malaysia bring to the fore the intersections between the past and present and they not only provide a lens to situate Gurkhas across time and space but also reveal the inherent tensions embodied in ‘the Gurkha’ as a categorical figure that occupies a liminal positionality. The transient nature of Gurkhas and their families’ experience in host-countries reveals ‘moments of discontinuity’ and it situates their in-betweenness in ‘social space and in history’.Footnote 17 As scholars have argued, during the negotiation of their life course, transnational families often ‘grapple with a sense of liminality — a state of ambiguity, openness and indeterminacy of identity’.Footnote 18
This study adds to the literature on historical memory, migrant identity, and belonging by providing a comprehensive overview of the key characteristics of the Gurkhas as transnational soldiers within the context of Southeast Asia. While there is a vast literature on expressions of political identities among migrant groups, a study of Gurkha migrants instead offers an alternative perspective given the unique historical circumstances and structural conditions that have long shaped their identity as apolitical servicemen and their role as an elite labour force. Thus, this article provides a critical analysis of the construction of Nepali Gurkhas as ‘apolitical warriors’ and delves into how this ideological construct with roots during the colonial era has been (re)produced in contemporary Southeast Asia. To this end, a distinctive contribution of this study is the in-depth ethnographic exploration and qualitative analysis of Gurkhas during commemorative events held in Malaysia and Singapore. I examine how a nation's past is produced and reflect upon how Gurkha migrants are remembered and represented during events held at, for example, the Gurkha Cemetery in Ipoh, Malaysia, and the Kranji War Cemetery in Singapore. A central question involves evaluating the role of historical memory in informing the extent to which Gurkhas, as military migrants, are incorporated within the national narratives of countries such as Singapore, Malaysia, and Brunei. Herein, I argue that their apolitical identity has long served a dual purpose and this, in effect, forms the axis of their ambivalent belonging. Gurkhas are celebrated as foreign warriors reputed for their invaluable sacrifice and contribution to these nations, but at the same time, are excluded through policy measures that rule out the prospect of citizenship and govern their status as transient migrants.
Methodology
This article draws on empirical research gathered in 2019 and, to a lesser extent, in 2020 (due to the pandemic). I carried out multi-sited archival and ethnographic fieldwork in Nepal, the United Kingdom, Singapore, and Malaysia to study the transnational history and lived experiences of Gurkha families. In an attempt to better situate their narratives of migration and belonging within the broader context of national policies concerning military contract service and citizenship, my research methodology also involved qualitative techniques such as participant observation during public commemorative events held in Malaysia and Singapore in 2019. Thereafter, due to the global pandemic, these events were either cancelled or had a virtual iteration. So, in June 2019, I participated in remembrance ceremonies held in Ipoh, Malaysia and I was particularly interested in the service conducted at the Gurkha Cemetery to honour fallen soldiers for their role, and exemplary service, during the Malayan Emergency. Thereafter, in November, I attended the Remembrance Sunday ceremony held at the Kranji War Memorial and State Cemetery in Singapore. In the following year, in November 2020, I participated again through a virtual service held in Singapore.
Through my participant observations in these remembrance events, I developed an acute awareness of how these formal ceremonies functioned to (re)produce and (re)enact colonial trappings about the ‘martial race’Footnote 19 and masculinised loyalty by staging performative representations of ‘the Gurkha’ as a ‘legendary warrior’. Gurkha bagpipers in tartan trews are presented as Nepalis who embody a military tradition from a colonial era and, in and of itself, this casts a long shadow on the legacies of the British Empire and underscores how colonial identities manifest in contemporary Southeast Asian contexts. Put simply, public remembrances undergird processes that not only honour historical legacies but also commemorate continuities rather than a rupture with a colonial past. The discursive fashioning of ‘the Gurkha’ as an archetype warrior incited questions about how, as military migrants, they figure into the historical memory of a nation's past. Thus, in this article, I seek to shed light on the relationship between Gurkha migrants’ participation in national commemorations and issues concerning their social integration and belonging in Southeast Asia.
The making of ‘apolitical warriors’: Gurkha roles and migrant status in Southeast Asia
A broad historical overview of the impact of colonial knowledge production in constructing the Gurkhas as a ‘martial race’ reputed for their loyalty and bravery, is fundamental to our understanding of the early origins and making of an apolitical identity that, in turn, have long informed their subjectivities as transnational soldiers. In the nineteenth century, the period of Gorkhali expansion in Nepal brought it into a confrontation with the British East India Company.Footnote 20 The recruitment of Gurkha soldiers began in 1815 in the context of the Anglo-Nepalese war (1814–1816). Nepalis of diverse ethnic backgrounds — Rais, Magars, Gurungs, and Limbus — with cultural, religious, and, linguistic distinctiveness became known, collectively, as the ‘Gurkhas’. During the colonial period, the British, as Thomas Metcalf contends, ‘endeavoured to create a system of knowledge about India and themselves which would sustain that ‘strange anomaly’,Footnote 21 the British Indian Empire. Colonial conquest, as Nicholas Dirks argues, was not just a consequence of the power of superior arms, military organisation, political power or economic wealth. He insists on the importance of ‘cultural technologies of rule’ that sustained and strengthened colonial power and asserts that colonialism was itself a cultural project of control.Footnote 22 Army officers, for example, played an integral role in collecting, analysing, and organising ethnographic and cultural information. They, as Douglas Peers shows, were not simply consumers of colonial knowledge, but were producers as well and he asserts that the ‘martial race’ doctrine demonstrates an example of Nicholas Dirks's ‘cultural technologies of rule’, that sought to identify similarities and accentuate differences between various communities.Footnote 23
The ethnographic project to observe, study, and comprehend the world beyond Europe was informed by Victorian intellectual activity and was part of the broader Enlightenment endeavour to classify groups.Footnote 24 The late Victorian period led to the development of ‘theories’ and ‘racial sciences’ that sought to prove the biological origins of human social and cultural differences and explain why some groups of people were dominant while others were dominated.Footnote 25 The Highlanders, the Kamba, Sikhs, Pathans, and Gurkhas were among the groups considered as a ‘martial race’.Footnote 26 The ‘martial races’ were believed to have something in their make-up, in their blood, that made them gravitate towards military professions. Another strand of the theory, which attributed racial differences to climatic determinism, suggests that warlike people can be found in hilly, cooler places while those in hot, flat regions races are timid, servile and unwarlike.Footnote 27 The ‘martial race’ discourse, as Cynthia Enloe demonstrates through a conceptual analysis of ‘ethnic state security maps’, was a technique of ‘divide and rule’ to exercise control over plural societies.Footnote 28 An ideal ‘martial race’ was an ethnic group that produced men who were both martial and loyal and this, she argues, lies at the heart of the ‘Gurkha syndrome’.Footnote 29
The apolitical identity of the Gurkhas with roots in the colonial era assumed greater significance during the period of decolonisation and it continues to be a defining feature that influences questions concerning their migrant positionality and how belonging is negotiated in the contemporary present. During the Partition of India, for example, Nepali Gurkhas have been celebrated in British military writings as impartial soldiers who maintained strict neutrality in the catastrophic violence between the Hindus and Muslims.Footnote 30 India's decolonisation was a significant turning point for the erstwhile Gurkha regiments of the British Raj. In the aftermath of India's independence — and partition — in 1947, Gurkha troops who had long served in the British Indian Army were reconstituted and, in 1948, the newly formed British Army's ‘Brigade of Gurkhas’ — made up of four rifle regiments and various other units — moved to Malaya.Footnote 31 British colonies such as Malaya, Singapore, Brunei, and Hong Kong developed as a ‘transregional military labour network’ for Gurkha migrants in Asia.Footnote 32 Throughout the late 1940s until the 1960s, events such as the Malayan Emergency (1948–1960); the Brunei Revolt in 1962; Indonesia–Malaysia Confrontation (1963–1966); and civil unrest in Singapore, witnessed the involvement of Gurkhas as apolitical soldiers who were an integral part of either army operations or internal policing.
Around the same period as the arrival of ‘British Gurkhas’ in Malaya in 1948, Singapore established a Gurkha Contingent on 9 April 1949. Replacing the Sikhs, who had long served as a policing unit in British Malaya, the ‘Singapore Gurkhas’ began training as a future anti-riot squad to be mobilised for internal security.Footnote 33 So, in contrast to the ‘British Gurkhas’ who were — and still are — a military unit within the British Army, the ‘Singapore Gurkhas’ play an internal policing role and continue to function as an elite security force within the Ministry of Home Affairs. In the 1950s and 1960s, the ‘Singapore Gurkhas’ were deployed as a ‘neutral force’ to contain various domestic riots, such as the Maria Hertogh riot (1950), Hock Lee Bus riot (1955), Chinese Middle School riot (1956) and the race riots (1964) (Ibid). Civil unrest gave credence to their constructed identity as ‘apolitical warriors’ and was instrumental in establishing and, over time, reinforcing the role of the Gurkha Contingent as an impartial and elite policing unit within independent and multi-racial Singapore.
A British Gurkha garrison developed in Seria on the heels of the Brunei Revolt in 1962. Not too long after, Gurkhas were formed into two battalions, a guards unit, and a Gurkha Reserve Unit (GRU), formed in 1974 and made up largely of retired ex-service ‘British Gurkhas’. The GRU comes under the direct command of the Sultan, outside the command structure of the Royal Brunei Armed Force (RBAF), and up to today, functions to protect the royal family and perform guard duties at royal residences and government installations.Footnote 34 Here, the Gurkhas serve as an ‘effective deterrent’ against any external military intervention that might incite a popular uprising against the Brunei royal family.Footnote 35
In short, the late 1940s saw the development of ‘British Gurkhas’ as well as ‘Singapore Gurkhas’ in British Malaya. Notwithstanding professional distinctions, historically, both groups of transnational foreign servicemen serve as military labour migrants and their apolitical identity forms the edifice of policy measures that prevent their social integration and make Gurkhas and their families ineligible for citizenship rights in their host-countries. Until today, the approximately 2,000 ‘Singapore Gurkhas’ who serve the city-state as a ‘neutral force’ experience repatriation to Nepal — together with their families — following their service, which is typically around 20 to 25 years.Footnote 36 The operational and residential base of ‘Singapore Gurkha’ families at the Mount Vernon Camp brings to focus the community's everyday lived experience in a gated enclave. Similarly, one battalion of the Royal Gurkha Rifles (RGR) is based in Brunei as an infantry regiment of the British Army, and as in the case of Singapore, they too have no citizenship rights in Brunei. However, unlike the ‘Singapore Gurkhas’, those who serve in Brunei are ‘British Gurkhas’ and since 2004, they have had the opportunity for settlement rights in the United Kingdom. In 2004, a decision was made by the British government to grant ‘British Gurkhas’ indefinite leave to remain in the United Kingdom upon completion of four years of service and the opportunity to eventually apply for British citizenship.Footnote 37 In other words, in the contemporary context, the migrant status and long-term implications for Gurkhas serving in Brunei are quite unlike that of the ‘Singapore Gurkhas’.
During their service, Gurkhas participate in certain commemorative events. Some events, whether held within or outside the confines of the camp, are not always directly linked to war or conflict; instead, they serve as anniversary celebrations. For example, very recently, the Gurkha Contingent in Singapore celebrated their anniversary within the Mount Vernon Camp on 9 April 2024, marking 75 years since their establishment. Social media platforms such as Facebook and TikTok provided glimpses of the festivities held within the camp. Similarly, in Brunei, in 2015, a commemoration parade was organised at Bandar Seri Begawan's main ceremonial parade ground to mark the 200th Anniversary of Gurkha service to the British Crown. Reportedly, over 800 soldiers, mainly Gurkhas, participated in this event.Footnote 38 While the Brunei Revolt of 1962 was not the primary focus, the commemoration of over 50 years of Gurkha connections to Brunei within the broader context of service to the British Crown indirectly acknowledges this episode.
The participation of Gurkhas in commemorative events is not a recent phenomenon; historically, in Singapore and Malaysia, they have played integral roles in events such as Remembrance Sunday, held annually in November. Whether in Singapore,Footnote 39 Sungai Petani,Footnote 40 or Kuala Lumpur,Footnote 41 since the colonial period Gurkhas have been prominently involved as buglers or in guarding the Cenotaph. In the post-colonial era, a report from 1970 documents the presence of a Gurkha bahun (priest) alongside an imam and Christian minister in conducting prayers at Kranji for world peace.Footnote 42 Throughout decades and up to today, the Gurkha pipes and drums have held a central place in these events, as exemplified by a prominent image in a newspaper article from the 1980s showcasing Gurkha pipers from the Singapore Police Force during Remembrance Sunday at the Kranji War Memorial.Footnote 43
Sites of remembrance: Ethnographic field notes in Malaysia and Singapore
During my ethnographic fieldwork gathered during annual commemoration events held in Malaysia and Singapore, I explored how these ‘sites of memory’Footnote 44 not only serve as poignant reminders of the Gurkhas’ historical contributions to the region's security landscape but also offer a unique vantage point to examine the performative dimensions of how ‘apolitical warrior-ness’ is enacted. By closely examining military traditions and their manifestations within these commemorative settings, I aim to elucidate how, as Nora posits, these ‘sites of memory’ are not spontaneous but deliberately constructed to create archives, uphold anniversaries, orchestrate celebrations and deliver eulogies,Footnote 45 thus ensuring that historical continuity persists. Within the parameters of such ‘commemorative vigilance’Footnote 46 I endeavour to illuminate how Gurkha dis/embeddedness within the collective memory of nations is produced while also reflecting on the paradoxes of loyalty vis-à-vis questions of (non-)belonging, shedding light on the inherent contestations of military migrant identity in Southeast Asia.
The Gurkha Cemetery in Ipoh: Commemorating the Malayan Emergency
In June 2019, I participated in annual remembrance events held in Ipoh over a three-day-long period. The National Malaya and Borneo Veterans Association of Australia (NMBVAA), which makes arrangements for veterans and their families from different parts of Australia to travel to Ipoh, had a thorough programme planned out to participate in the various events held across different sites within the Perak state, organising transportation and other logistical arrangements. The main organisers kindly obliged my request to register as a participant in their group, and for the most part I tagged along with them to the various sites. On 13 June, we travelled to Taiping and attended the NMBVAA service held at the Kamunting Christian Cemetery to honour Australian veterans. After the ceremony, we adjourned for lunch, and after that, departed to Sungei Siput, an area historically known for its tin mining and rubber plantations within Perak. As the bus manoeuvred along a dirt road into a palm oil plantation, various signage in the Tamil language pointed to schools and religious symbols that reflected the Tamil cultural landscape of the plantation and demonstrated another ethnic minority community from South Asia who trace their migration history to the colonial era.
At the Sungei Siput estate, we visited the site where members of the Malayan Communist Party shot three European planters on 16 June 1948, an incident which marked the beginning of a 12-year-long Malayan Emergency.
British Gurkha soldiers getting ready for jungle patrol during the Malayan Emergency (Source: Harrison Forman collection, courtesy of the American Geographical Society Library, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries.)
In 1948, the Sungei Siput area was amongst the first sites where the Gurkhas began their operations, clearing guerrillas concentrated there, removing squatters and patrolling that area into the hills of West and East of Ipoh.Footnote 47 On this site now stands a Malayan Emergency Monument and Gallery, and texts on plaques suggest that it was officiated in 2015. The curators have also attempted to re-create the Emergency era with signboards illustrating “You are now leaving the North Perak White Area” in four languages and “Bicycle riding prohibited from 7.30 pm to 12 midnight”.
The next day, on the morning of 14 June, I attended the Ipoh Cenotaph annual remembrance held in front of the railway station. At this event, I caught sight of three bagpipers from Royal Gurkha Rifles based in Brunei who played a crucial role in drawing the remembrance ceremony to a close with their bugle call. Annually, arrangements are made for ‘Brunei Gurkhas’ under the aegis of the British Army to participate in the commemorative events held in Ipoh, Malaysia. Dressed in tartan trews with full military regalia, it is not uncommon for members of the public to flock towards the Gurkhas and other veterans to take pictures with them. The British officer, clearly under whose supervision the small team of Gurkhas travelled from Brunei to Ipoh, kept a watchful eye over them. Yet, I managed to briefly exchange a few words with the Brunei Gurkhas as they were packing their equipment onto a van, just before departing from the site of the Ipoh Cenotaph.
Annually, bagpipers from the Royal Gurkha Rifles based in Brunei play an instrumental role during the Ipoh Cenotaph ceremony in Malaysia (Source: Author, 2019.)
On 15 June, we were to head towards Batu Gajah at 6.15 am, for a Holy Trinity Church service and wreath-laying ceremony at God's Little Acre,Footnote 48 before driving back to Ipoh, for the Gurkha Remembrance service at Kem Syed Putra at 10.30 am. Instead, I decided to go to the Gurkha Cemetery earlier and headed there directly. The organisers were setting up the space for the ceremony. In sharp contrast to the still silence of the cemetery a year ago when I had visited it, there was a flurry of activity on this day, with marquees being set up, wreathes in place, and a steady stream of people taking their seats. The ‘Brunei Gurkhas’ were reading the ‘Gurkha Roll of Honours’ on the Malayan Emergency granite plaque, and we exchanged a nod of acknowledgement.
There are two granite plaques at the Gurkha Cemetery. Needless to say, the ubiquitous crossed kukri as a symbolic marker of Gurkha bravery is made visible. Texts inscribed on the memorial plaque reflect colonial ideas about the ‘martial races’ and reify notions associated with loyalty. The granite plaque on the left states: “The Memorial Plaque is dedicated to the memory of the 28 gallant Gurkhas killed in action in Perak against militant terrorists during the Malayan Emergency, 1948–1960. We will remember them”, followed by a translation in Devanagari. The flip side of the plaque gives prominence to the Gurkha epitaph: “Better to die than be a coward”. The granite plaque on the right alerts us to the significance of 16 June 1948 in marking the start of the Malayan Emergency and draws the reader's attention to the ‘Gurkhas Roll of Honours (1948–1960)’ with the names of fallen Gurkhas chiselled onto the slab. The list of Nepali names corresponds with, and places emphasis on, the affiliations of the British royal family to respective Gurkha battalions, for example, 6th Queen Elizabeth's Own Gurkha Rifles;Footnote 49 7th Duke of Edinburgh Gurkha Rifles; 10th Princess Mary's Own Gurkha Rifles; and, 2nd King Edward VII's Own Gurkha Rifles.
At the granite plaque, a Nepali Hindu priest was keeping up a frantic pace to decorate the memorial space with garlands, vermilion powder, incense sticks and various other Hindu ritual items. Amid his preparation, he explained that he had been based in Rawang, Selangor, serving the Nepali Hindu community for several years. Every year, the Nepali association in Rawang and the Persatuan WIRA (Warriors Association Malaysia) in Ipoh make special arrangements for him to travel to Ipoh to offer a religious dimension to the annual Gurkha Remembrance.
A Nepali Hindu priest based in Rawang, Selangor, setting up the memorial space for a religious ritual to be performed at the Gurkha Cemetery in Ipoh (Source: Author, 2019.)
A Hindu prayer was conducted at the memorial plaque before the official programme commenced. Members of the WIRA association and a few other locals removed their footwear and stood barefoot with their hands clasped together in prayer as the Nepali Hindu priest conducted a religious ritual to pay respect to the departed who were laid to rest at the Gurkha Cemetery.
Thereafter, following the guest of honour's arrival, the catafalque party took their position, and the Malaysian national anthem and the Nepali national anthem were played. After some speeches, the Nepali priest articulated a short prayer in Sanskrit, and, thereafter, the customary sequence followed, gesturing to the consecration of a site of memory and the ‘ritual repetition of a timeless practice’:Footnote 50 a wreath-laying ceremony; the rousing sound of the last post by the Gurkhas to signify a moment of silence; the patriotic reveille by the Gurkha bugler to signal the end of the ceremony; the catafalque party dismounted; and lastly, a group photograph session.
A solemn moment to mark the end of the Gurkha Remembrance ceremony in Ipoh, Perak (Source: Author, 2019.)
There were two key observations that I made during the Gurkha Remembrance ceremony in Ipoh. First, similar to the previous day, after the event, the Gurkha bagpipers from Brunei quietly slipped away, almost unnoticed. Over the two days, I noticed that unlike the other serving military personnel or veterans, be they locals or foreigners, the Brunei Gurkhas were barely present in the receptions that followed each event and they were nowhere to be seen at the Royal Ipoh Club for lunch or during the Troop Night that evening.Footnote 51 Second, while there is a sizable presence of various South Asian diasporic communities in Ipoh, such as long-established Indians, Ceylonese, and Sikhs, who play an integral role in either organising or participating in these Remembrance ceremonies, there is a visible absence of a Nepali/Gorkhali community, with only a few individuals represented. Perceptibly, these commemorative events are not only about which communities are present but also about which communities are absent. While they are commemorated, the absence of a more established Nepali Gurkha community in Malaysia is striking. It reminds us of historical factors, such as the impact of colonial knowledge production and how the Nepali Gurkhas were primarily seen as transnational soldiers rather than settlers. This, in turn, accounts for the uneven outcomes in migrant status among the overseas South Asian community in Malaysia.
Kranji War Cemetery, Singapore: Remembrance Sunday
On 10 November 2019, I participated in the annual Remembrance Sunday ceremony, held at the Kranji War Memorial, and State Ceremony. Upon arriving, I walked towards the back of the cemetery. From a distance, I noticed what appeared like an official photographer capturing images of the Gurkha bagpipers who were part of the Singapore Gurkha Contingent. As I walked along, I could hear some scattered conversations in Nepali amongst them. I introduced myself to two Gurkhas, and a casual conversation ensued in Nepali. One of them shared that his baje (grandfather) was a lahure (vernacular parlance for ‘Gurkha’) who was involved in the Second World War in the Asian region and was repatriated to Nepal after his service. He added that while his baje was fortunate to return alive, he knew of others who lost their lives and remain buried in Asia. This personal account spoke to the intersections of foreign military service and migration as a way of life and tradition across generations of Gurkha families.
The Remembrance Sunday ceremony held annually in November at the Kranji War Cemetery, Singapore witnesses the participation of bagpipers from the Singapore Gurkha Contingent (Source: Author, 2019.)
Unlike in Ipoh where there was a special service to honour the Gurkhas for their role during the Malayan Emergency, in Singapore, there is no service that exclusively focuses on commemorating the Gurkhas. The Remembrance Sunday ceremony was a commemorative event that was more general in its appeal. Some orders were given in Malay, but otherwise, the event had a Western, church-like atmosphere with hymns such as, ‘Amazing Grace’, ‘Abide with me’, and ‘I vow to thee my country’ sung by the vast majority of participants. There were also representatives from different faith groups to offer a multi-religious dimension to the ceremony. Overall, it was a very formal, state-led ceremony similar to the Ipoh Cenotaph Ceremony spearheaded by the WIRA Association in Ipoh, Malaysia, although quite unlike the more grassroots-led initiative at the Gurkha Cemetery in Ipoh. Similar to the role of the ‘Brunei Gurkhas’ during the ceremonies in Malaysia, here too, the ‘Singapore Gurkhas’ reigned over the start of the event. However, it was the SAF (Singapore Armed Forces) buglers who sounded the ‘Last Post’. The following year, on 8 November 2020, I participated again in the Remembrance Sunday ceremony. However, because of the global pandemic, the event was conducted virtually. Once again, ‘Singapore Gurkhas’ as bagpipers played an integral role by participating from the Mount Vernon Camp, which was evident in the background.
Remembrances as a site: Loyalty and liminality
In thinking about the audience during both events, the enduring historical memory of victors holds significant sway, a phenomenon not confined to any specific nation. In the context of Southeast Asia, the commemoration of deceased Gurkhas and others who served in the allied forces during the World Wars and Cold War episodes offers a striking example. For instance, in Malaysia, local organisers (i.e. WIRA association), comprising some who once served in the colonial government military/police apparatus, alongside overseas veterans such as Australians (e.g., NMBVAA) who contribute funds, come together as memory-makers to collectively honour those who fell in combat against communism, defending the ideals of ‘democracy’. The depiction of government troops as heroic and triumphant in overcoming communist insurgents,Footnote 52 underscores the ‘Cold War scripts’ which form the ‘core foundation’ of Malaysian nationalism.Footnote 53 This mode of commemoration brings to light a troubling narrative — textured by what and whose historical memory within a nation's past is remembered — exposing the limits of selective memory in paying homage to the often-violent methods employed in upholding imperial dominance throughout the colonial and decolonisation eras. Commemorative events such as these are therefore neither alternative nor redemptive in their rendering as they illuminate how the memory of violence and the violence of memory cohere in defining the contours of nationhood by post-colonial regimes.
In contemporary Southeast Asia, very rarely does the general public get an opportunity to witness traditions unique to the military culture of the Gurkhas, let alone get up close and personal by taking pictures or selfies with them. The Gurkhas and their families remain out of the public eye in Singapore and Brunei and, as military migrants, they live in a gated community, sequestered behind a highly securitised façade. However, during the public commemorative remembrances held in Singapore and Malaysia, Gurkhas are thrust to the centre and play a significant role. Even so, although they are visibly foregrounded, they recede into the background, thus, playing no more than a ceremonial role.
Gurkhas migrants are presented as brave ‘warriors’ and perform gendered notions of masculinised loyalty during these formal public events. Gurkha bagpipers are decked out in regimental tartan trews (instead of kilts) with Kilmarnock forage caps and a three to four-yard-long piper's plaid that, all in all, place emphasis on their historical ties to the Seaforth Highlanders. The Gurkha pipe and drum bands have a deep historical connection to the Seaforths.Footnote 54 The fashioning of a special bond between the Gurkha and Scottish regiments is as prominent as they are peculiar to a casual observer, and their attire itself showcases the amalgamation of British imperial and traditional Nepali identities. As Hew Strachan posits, the Scottish Highlander, seen as a natural fighter, may have been a prototype for the Victorian admiration of the Gurkha or the Sikh.Footnote 55 Military uniforms differentiated the regiments, and as Kaushik Roy argues, in the case of the Gurkhas, it was their distinctive uniform evolved by the Raj, rather than the kukri which played an important role in establishing the distinct Gurkha ethos.Footnote 56 Oddly but interestingly, in the contemporary period, remembrance ceremonies in Singapore and Malaysia serve as conduits that not only honour the shared history between the Scottish Highlanders and the Gurkhas but also underscore how the latter's connections to the empire's former colonies continue to run deep. This attire itself demonstrates how outsider-ness is fetishised in their role in nation-formation. It embodies their foreign status and also serves as a visual representation of the political narrative surrounding their role as ‘apolitical warriors’.
During the ceremony held in Ipoh, the Pipes and Drums platoon of the Royal Gurkha Rifles from Brunei fashion an imperial belonging to the British Army (Source: Author, 2019.)
While texts written by British officers emphasise the constructed identity of the Gurkhas as ethnic soldiers of impartial character, remembrance ceremonies orchestrated in contemporary Southeast Asia function as sites that bear witness to how their apolitical identity is enacted. They bring to focus a heightened sense of performativity as the Gurkha bagpipers are integral to the overall ceremony. In fact, it is they who reign over the start and the end of the remembrances, displaying military splendour with the armament of musical instruments, often sounding the bugle call to mark a pivotal moment with the observation of a two-minute silence. In that moment of contemplative silence, the enduring historical memory of the inclusion of ‘the Gurkha’ as a ‘brave warrior’ echoes sharply against socio-political processes that govern their exclusion as military migrants.
On one hand, during remembrances, these military migrants embody colonial legacies by projecting a distinct imperial identity to a wider community. The irony is that, in doing so, they are representing and at the same time internalising a bona fide vision of ‘the Gurkha’ in nations from which they — and their families — continue to experience forms of exclusion. Thus, their participation in these commemorative events underlines their ambivalent position and accentuates the unstable nature of apolitical migrant subjectivities. On the other hand, it is equally imperative to acknowledge that remembrances afford a space that recognises the Gurkha community as constitutive of these nations, integral to their host-countries through time and continuing to make sacrifices in Southeast Asian nations. Taken together, remembrances may be read as an attempt to commemorate the contribution of Gurkhas as ‘warriors’ but, in doing so, it also exposes the boundaries of their belonging within, and to, a nation-state.
Global Gurkhas: Paramilitary service and the politics of (non-)belonging
Historically, Gurkha contract service and transnational soldiering involved crossing various borders, and sojourning — seldom settling — in new lands, with no recourse to formal citizenship. Their role as an elite security labour force within security institutions in Brunei and Singapore has long undergirded a system of ‘differential exclusion’,Footnote 57 whereby certain groups of immigrants are accepted within strict structural and institutional parameters, welcomed as ‘temporary sojourners, but not as long-terms residents’. This has given shape to Gurkhas and their families living in a state of exception, existing both inside and yet outside of nation-states in ways similar to what Neha Vora conceptualises as ‘impossible citizens’.Footnote 58 As mentioned earlier, the Gurkha communities in contemporary Singapore and Brunei are formally excluded from citizenship rights, and policy measures prevent the social integration of Gurkhas and their families in their host-countries.
Thus, the question of belonging poses a fundamental challenge to Gurkhas — and their families — as colonial legacies have profoundly shaped their history and deeply embedded a particular identity. So, rather than what event is remembered, the question of how and why certain communities are remembered in a certain way will tell us something about the conceptions of different ethnic groups that form a cosmopolitan society. Take for example the Malay regiment, a colonial army which, as Kevin Blackburn shows, has been actively employed in the postcolonial nation-states of Malaysia and Singapore for nation-building purposes. He argues that discourses of loyalty and martial tradition have been used for nationalist reasons to encourage youth to follow in the footsteps of ‘warriors’ who exhibited discipline and martial prowess.Footnote 59 In contrast, the Gurkhas, who like the Malay Regiment are a colonial force, are not viewed as representing nationalism in Singapore and Malaysia. If anything, they are widely acclaimed to exhibit qualities such as discipline and martial prowess. However, these very qualities are instead used as ideological tools to manage them as a migrant labour force and ensure that they are kept entirely at arm's length from nations such as Singapore or Brunei.
Historically, in political debates that ensued in Singapore or discussions about the justifications for Gurkha presence in a multi-racial society, their perceived martial-ness and impartial attributes have surfaced. For example, before the official establishment of the Gurkha Contingent in 1949 when discussions unfolded in the colonial bureaucracy in 1946, the need for a ‘completely foreign element of independent character’ was stressed. A memorandum on the subject of the creation of a Malayan Police explicitly states that:
…Police Authorities, both in Singapore and the Malayan Peninsula, wish to introduce a Gurkha element into the ranks of the North Indian Police of Malaya. It is considered that a completely foreign element of independent character, unaffected by the racial prejudices of Malaya, is a necessary safeguard … This particular type of Police work calls for reliability, discipline, and smart appearance…Footnote 60
Subsequently, post-colonial regimes have continued reproducing colonial logic, language, and the rhetoric of Gurkha apolitical proclivities. For instance, in the 1980s, a significant parliamentary exchange unfolded between then-opposition member Mr Chiam See Tong and the Home Minister, Mr S. Jayakumar. During this exchange, Mr Tong expressed concern and embarrassment over the continued presence of the Gurkha Contingent in independent Singapore and characterised it as a ‘slap on the face of Singaporean policemen’.Footnote 61 In response, the Home Minister defended the Gurkhas, describing them as ‘tough and fearless in enforcing the law’.Footnote 62 Notably, he argued that since Gurkhas and their families ‘are not part of Singaporean society’ they were, therefore, ‘less susceptible to intimidation, influence, and corruption’.Footnote 63 Furthermore, and crucially, the Home Minister emphasised their ‘record of complete impartiality when serving in a multiracial society’,Footnote 64 citing their effectiveness in restoring peace during the racial riots of the 1950s and 1960s. Here, we observe how the politics of belonging is constituted within the ‘intersubjective field in which it is narrated’,Footnote 65 demonstrating the broader power relations at work.
The political narrative of their warrior reputation, elite status, and ‘impartial’ disposition has been told and retold over the years in newspaper reportsFootnote 66 and memoirs — e.g., former Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew's memoirs where he speaks highly about their loyalty and neutrality.Footnote 67 Most recently, in the contemporary period, to mark the 70th anniversary of the Gurkha Contingent (GC) in Singapore in 2019, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong in his Facebook post wrote of the Gurkhas’ ‘well-deserved reputation for toughness’ and exclaimed that they are ‘totally dependable, highly self-disciplined, loyal, and fearless in executing their duties’. He reminded Singaporeans of communal tensions in the past and how the ‘GC's impartiality was crucial to restoring order’ and concluded by thanking them for their ‘loyal and unwavering service’ in ensuring Singapore's ‘peace and security’.Footnote 68 Taken together, across time it is evident that while Gurkhas are interwoven into the narrative of Singapore's nation-building history, discourses of loyalty and impartiality are instead used to reaffirm their peripheral position to the nation.
The motivations for maintaining a Gurkha community in Brunei and Singapore and the policy measures that determine return migration to Nepal create conditions that subsequently give shape to their future transnationality and global pathways. In the context of ‘Brunei Gurkhas’, as mentioned earlier, they and their families have the opportunity for settlement rights in the United Kingdom. In May 2009, following a high-profile Gurkha Justice Campaign led by British actress Joanna Lumley, a further change in the immigration policy was implemented, and it permitted Gurkhas who had retired before 1 July 1997 and completed four years’ service, the right to apply to settle in the United Kingdom.Footnote 69 Consequently, around 36,000 members of the regiment who retired before 1997 were allowed to live in the United Kingdom with their spouses and childrenFootnote 70 and this led to a mass migration of Gurkha families. Although it has been more than a decade since this landmark decision and ‘historic victory’, the fight for equality and Gurkha claims-making campaigns persists. Hunger strikes at Downing Street over pension issues,Footnote 71 for example, demonstrate how political identities manifest as a consequence of military service.
For the Singapore Gurkha community, lacking citizenship or permanent residency rights, their experience involves repatriation to Nepal and thereafter, increasingly so, re-migration. Over the years, destinations such as Australia and America have emerged as future transnational sites. Interestingly, for example, there is a ‘Singapore Gurkha Police Ex-Servicemen Association in New York’ that defines their sense of identity in reference to Singapore. Similarly, Southeast Asia, as a region or otherwise specific places within it, also features prominently amongst the Gurkha community in the United Kingdom. In Aldershot, for example, there is a sizable Gurkha diasporaFootnote 72 and, during oral history interviews, many of them locate their lived experiences vis-à-vis their sojourn in Southeast Asia from the early days of Malaya during the Emergency until the contemporary present in Brunei and this, in turn, spoke to the different cohorts and generations of Gurkha families who negotiate their transnational lives between Nepal and the United Kingdom and make sense of their belonging to more than one place.
Concluding remarks
This article has attempted to examine the role and status of Gurkha migrants as a soldiering community in transnational Southeast Asian contexts. Colonial knowledge production about the ‘martial races’ during the heyday of imperialism was influential in recruiting men from diverse ethnic groups in the western and eastern regions of Nepal. A heterogeneous community, the ‘Gurkhas’ are highly regarded as brave warriors, an identity that assumed significance during the colonial era and continues to gain currency in the contemporary present in former British colonies in Southeast Asia such as Brunei, Singapore and Malaysia.
Up to today, there is a Gurkha community that serves in Brunei and Singapore as an army and policing unit, respectively, and they play an integral part during public commemorative events held in their host-countries and also elsewhere, such as Malaysia. As we have seen, remembrances held at various sites draw attention to formal ceremonial processes that entrench the centrality of colonial constructs about the Gurkhas. They bring to sharp focus the contradictory tensions between ‘the Gurkha’ as a soldier extolled for his martial prowess and as a migrant who due to this very historical legacy has, through time, occupied an ambivalent position within Southeast Asian nations. Significantly, on these occasions, the categorical boundaries of ‘soldier-migrant’ are blurred and Gurkhas are neither fully included nor excluded in connection with the production of a nation's history and memory.
The underlying assumption that, as ‘apolitical warriors’, they form the nucleus of an elite para-military unit influences the rhetoric of operational effectiveness and the absence of citizenship or settlement rights. Over the decades, this ideological discourse has been actively employed to incorporate Gurkhas as brave warriors within the national narrative of a county and, at the same time, govern their exclusion through policy measures that control them as migrants and as renewable sources of labour. In the long term, these conditions account for their subsequent migrant trajectories and global futures.
