Historical Institutionalism and Path Dependence

A historical institutional analysis seeks to explain large outcomes, asks “big” questions, and pays attention to historical process.^{Footnote 9} A historical institutional analyst believes that “detailed investigation” of carefully chosen case studies can provide a “powerful tool for uncovering the sources of change.”^{Footnote 10} A historical institutional analyst also believes that institutional processes can best be understood if they are studied over time.^{Footnote 11} Understandably, an integral part of any historical institutional work is process tracing.^{Footnote 12} Indeed process tracing—along with concepts like path dependence, timing, and sequence—helps ensure that historical episodes will be linked in a meaningful way before they can offer explanation of a particular case.^{Footnote 13} In sum, historical institutional work places a premium on context, historical moments, and processes in order to understand policy outcomes.

As mentioned above, central to historical institutionalism is the concept of path dependence. Path dependence has been increasingly employed to explain political and social processes and forms a central tenet in major works on state building.^{Footnote 14} The term is open to various definitions. Sewell defines path dependence as “what happened at an earlier point in time will affect the possible outcomes of a sequence of events occurring at a later point in time.”^{Footnote 15} Mahoney sees path dependence as “specifically those historical sequences in which contingent events set into motion institutional patterns or event chains that have deterministic properties.”^{Footnote 16} Levi perhaps provides a more lucid description of path dependence when she describes that once a state “has started down a track, the costs of reversals are very high.” Path dependence, she says, entrenches certain institutional arrangements that effectively “obstruct an easy reversal of the initial choice.”^{Footnote 17}

The above definitions suggest that path dependence involves two things. First, making that initial choice is important. Second, once a choice is made, a self-reinforcing mechanism sets in where “each step in a particular direction makes it more difficult to reverse course.”^{Footnote 18} It is not that taking a reverse course is impossible. Rather, the choice of reversal is increasingly difficult because the cost of reversal increases over time given actors’ investment on resources.

But what brings about path dependence and why do social, political, and economic processes get stuck in a path-dependent mode? Perhaps two most important works that deconstruct the logic of path dependence are those carried out by economic historians Paul David and Brian Arthur.^{Footnote 19} Arthur, for instance, suggests that path dependence is due to self-reinforcing mechanisms. He describes four self-reinforcing mechanisms that encourage path dependence: large setup costs, learning effects, coordination effects, and adaptive expectations.^{Footnote 20} Simply put, the initial choice gets hard-wired within an institutional setting and thus makes it harder for existing institutions to adopt alternative technology.^{Footnote 21}

David’s and Arthur’s works have been extensively borrowed by political scientists. Perhaps one of the best efforts at incorporating their works into political science and public policy is the one carried out by Paul Pierson.^{Footnote 22} He argues that the source of path dependence and self-reinforcing mechanism lies in the nature of public good inherent in politics and public policy. He says that the nonexcludable and nonrivalrous nature of public good gives rise to the problem of collective action, opacity in political decisions, and the development of institutional density that encourage self-reinforcing mechanisms. Briefly, the collective-action problem refers to the inability of the “political market” to arrive at an optimal decision as decisions in public policy are based on the collective. Decisions are based on what each individual expects others to decide for fear of choosing the wrong option. This fear to bet on the “wrong” horse then encourages policymakers to adopt tried and tested solutions rather than break away from institutions. As Pierson puts it, “Despite massive social, economic, and political changes over time, self-reinforcing dynamics associated with collective action process—especially high start-up costs, coordination effects, and adaptive expectations—mean that organizations will have a strong tendency to persist once they are institutionalised.”^{Footnote 23}

The opacity in policy decision refers to the difficulty that policymakers face in measuring policy outcomes. Public policy goals are more complex and at times ambiguous. Given its complex nature, identifying and measuring problems in public policy becomes problematic, making policy prone to inefficiencies. Such complexity and opacity of policy only encourage actors to keep investing in existing institutions, go for the “tried and tested” solution, and adopt a path-dependent mode.^{Footnote 24} Institutional density refers to the perpetuation of institutions as a result of path dependence. As North and David point out, institutions bring about self-reinforcing mechanisms because creating institutions involves high fixed costs, learning effects, coordination effects, and adaptive expectations.^{Footnote 25} Institutions thus tend to make actors invest in specialized skills, create mental maps over social and political realities, and encourage the growth of networks with other individuals and organizations. This “institutional density” only encourages actors to adopt the chosen path since any reversal would be costly.

Indeed Pierson’s argument offers an interesting explanation to understanding British colonial policies and the resultant production of Malay political expression. As I will demonstrate, British failure to completely remove Malay power (due to financial and political costs) led to tried and tested solutions that allowed for British de facto rule while at the same time it preserved Malay de jure power. British policies that continued to factor Malay de jure power then led to continued investment in institutions that further consolidated Malay de jure power. This is well demonstrated in the British promotion of a specialized Malay Administrative Service (MAS), British provision of Malay education, and British allowance for the growth of Malay organizations. In sum, this consistent factoring of Malay de jure power would then lead to the growth of Malay nationalism.

The Start of British Rule, J. W. Birch, and the Retraction of Malay Political Power

British policies in the early years after the Pangkor Treaty of 1874 were critical as they set the tone for future British policies with regards to indigenous power. The immediate years following the Pangkor Treaty saw the British administration attempting to temper not only Malay de facto but, more important, Malay de jure power. These attempts to retrench Malay political power, however, ended up fulfilling the British fear of incurring unnecessary costs and led to the less-than-full retrenchment of Malay power. It forced the administration to steer clear of removing Malay de jure power while at the same time maintaining British de facto rule. The maintenance of Malay de jure would then set off processes that, over time, resulted in the creation of a Malay autonomous community with exclusive institutions.

The British failure to assume complete control of the Malay States could be due to several policy missteps. To start, the new British administration did not have a clear blueprint on how to administer the Malay States.^{Footnote 26} Early British officers wrestled with the idea of how best to engage the old actors, and this was made worse by the appointment of British officers who had no prior knowledge of the Malay States.^{Footnote 27} British officers’ unfamiliarity with Malaya was also not helped by the ambiguous nature of the Pangkor Agreement. The agreement reflects an inherent tussle between effecting British rule and maintaining Malay de facto and de jure power. On one hand, it seemed to keep Malay political power as the terms of the treaty spelled out that the new government of the Malay States would be a “government by advice.” This effectively meant that the British Resident would play a supporting role. On the other hand, the Agreement also stipulated that the Malay ruler would have to seek the advice of the British Resident and that the Resident’s advice “must be asked and acted upon on all questions other than those touching on Malay religion and custom.”^{Footnote 28} This clause effectively meant that the Resident’s administrative power would far exceed that of the Malay ruler.

Such lack of know-how and ambiguity contributed to the mismatch in expectations between British and Malay actors. For Perak’s Sultan Abdullah and the Malay Chiefs, the Agreement meant that Perak would only be provided with British advice and that the existing feudal arrangement would be left intact. Abdullah and other Malay rulers did not realize that the Pangkor Treaty and the start of British administration would mean the beginning of a process that would spell the end of the Malay feudal arrangement. British officials, however, had different expectations. For them, the Pangkor Treaty meant the imposition of a new political and economic arrangement in place of the old. To British officials like Governor Jervois and Perak’s first Resident, J. W. Birch, the agreement was viewed as a carte blanche to introduce a new British system of administration.

Given such British expectations, British policy was geared toward redistributing economic and political resources for purposes of economic development that inadvertently involved managing Malaya’s significant actors. This period saw Straits Governor William Jervois and Perak’s first Resident J. W. Birch attempting to replace the Malay feudal arrangement, which was seen as incompatible to British-style capitalism, to an administrative system that would serve British economic imperatives. J. W. Birch introduced a new administration and property rights laws. Literally overnight, Birch eliminated the influence of Malay chiefs and denied their access to traditional sources of revenue, which came from taxing resources under their territorial control.^{Footnote 29} Under Birch, state revenue and expenditures were now handled by British-appointed administrators. Taxes and charges on the use of riverways were now carried out by British appointed officers and police force. To streamline revenue, Birch also imposed a unified taxation for opium, spirits, and gambling administered by British appointed officials.

However, it was Birch’s final initiative to do away completely with Malay feudal rule by annexing Perak—which meant direct British rule—that marked the British intention to fully dismantle Malay political presence. Birch was murdered in November 1875, orchestrated by Malay chiefs and led by Sultan Abdullah, the very prince who was the key figure in initiating the start of British rule. Birch’s murder sparked political unrests in Perak. The need to quell the unrests came at a financial cost to the British government. The crisis saw the British government spending some £71,074 to bring peace to Perak.^{Footnote 30}

The Birch episode prompted the administration to scale back its efforts at a major revamping of Malay administrative structures. The Perak unrest sent a reminder to the colonial administration of the costs involved in removing completely Malay feudal rule.^{Footnote 31} It was increasingly evident to the British that it would be best to maintain Malay de jure power while at the same time assuming British de facto rule.

Britain’s new posture is evident from the numerous notes sent by the Colonial Office to Straits officers.^{Footnote 32} The office called on the Straits Governor to remind Residents to play the proper role of advisers, to work closely with native rulers, and not to exercise too much discretion at removing the Malay administrative system. Lord Carnarvon, for instance, was damning of Governor Jervois for bypassing the colonial office by initiating a full annexation of Perak. He wrote that “the signal for resistance and attack was in opposition to the whole tenor of my directions.”^{Footnote 33}

In 1878, the Straits Governor William Robinson asked the Selangor Resident to reverse his decision to suspend a Malay State Council member, reiterating that “the residents have been placed in the Native states as advisers, not as rulers.” He warned residents that they would be held accountable should “trouble spring out” due to their failure to assume the proper role as advisers, not rulers.^{Footnote 34}

British recognition of Malay de jure power is significant because it forced the administration to continue to factor in the Malay political presence, even when Malay de facto power continued to diminish. What this means is that the colonial administration must continue to allow Malay rulers to assume juridical power in state institutions even when British officials had a free hand in dispensing economic resources and at times political resources. Put differently, the administration must continue to refer decisions to the state council and the Malay rulers, even though these were ceremonial gestures. It is this British need to constantly factor the juridical rights of Malay rulers that allowed Malay rulers and Malays, through increased capacity building in the coming years, to exercise their opinion and make demands. In the coming years, Malays would make use of state instruments, introduced by the colonial administration, to exercise their de jure status. Following Pierson’s (2004) argument on institutional density and capacity building, British preservation of Malay de jure power gave license to the growth of Malay social, economic, and political capacities and the development of institutions that would pave the way for growing Malay political expression. This linkage between Malay de jure power and capacity building would be apparent in the coming years.

The Formation of the Federal Malay States, Institutions, Malay Rulers, and Pan-Malay Consciousness

The formation of the Federated Malay States (FMS) in 1896 brought together the states of Perak, Selangor, Pahang, and Negeri Sembilan under a common administration. The FMS was meant to “centralise control, lessen state’s autonomy in order to protect the interest of new political and economic actors.^{Footnote 35}

The FMS was yet another attempt by the colonial administration to further diminish Malay de facto power. Under the new arrangement, a secretariat in Kuala Lumpur would be headed by a Resident General, not the Malay rulers. The Resident General would in turn report to the High Commissioner in Singapore. The British Resident from each state would also report to the Resident General. The FMS also did away with the set of codes of individual Malay states; under the new arrangement, there would be common legal, taxation, and land-settlement codes.^{Footnote 36}

Despite British efforts to consolidate de facto rule, the formation of the FMS strengthened Malay de jure power. The FMS introduced new institutional arrangements that helped preserve Malay de jure power. One such arrangement is the Conference of Malay Rulers. The Conference represents the paradox of British policy. It diminished Malay de facto power without injuring Malay de jure power. Indeed, the Conference did not grant the rulers legislative power; it merely served to remind the Malay rulers of their special position within the administration.^{Footnote 37} It is through such instrument that the Malay rulers started to voice their “concerns” on Malay development. They used the Conference to voice displeasure over the marginalization of the rulers’ executive and legislative role in running the state. At the second meeting of the Conference of Rulers in July 1903, the Sultan of Perak, Sultan Idris, commented on the confusion that came with the FMS’ centralization effort, specifically its power arrangement, saying that “there cannot be two masters to one vessel; neither can there be four Rulers over one country.”^{Footnote 38} In 1905, Sultan Idris also complained that the new arrangement contravened the Treaty of the Federation since it bypassed the authority of the Resident.^{Footnote 39}

The FMS also created another instrument that consolidated British de facto rule without injuring the Malay de jure position—the Federal Council. Formed in 1909, the council in effect was a “council of all state councils” where policies that were deemed important to all states were now decided at the federal level.^{Footnote 40} At the start, the Federal Council relegated further the position of Malay rulers. In the Council’s hierarchy, the High Commissioner was made President of the Federal Council, not the Malay rulers. In fact, below the High Commissioner was the Resident General. The four Malay rulers only came after the Resident General, and below them four unofficial members. These unofficial members were drawn from European and Chinese business interests. What’s more, these unofficial members were recommended not by the Malay rulers but by the High Commissioner with the approval of his Majesty, the King of England.^{Footnote 41}

The arrangement, however, was changed in the coming years. In a show of growing confidence and political capacities, Malay rulers asked to be withdrawn from the Federal Council. They argued that it was less dignified for them to be among other appointed commoners in the Federal Council. As a result, an Upper House, similar to the House of Lords, was designed to accommodate the Malay rulers. And in place of the Malay rulers in the Federal Council, three unofficial Malay members were appointed to the house in 1927. In the later years, Malay members like Raja Chulan and Dato Abdullah b. Haji Dahan were active in voicing Malay issues, especially about education.^{Footnote 42}

Another significant result of the FMS is that it gave rise to an unprecedented Pan-Malay consciousness. The formation of the FMS with its attendant institutions brought together the Malay rulers for the first time and created an awareness of “Malaya” as a political entity.^{Footnote 43} Centralization unwittingly encouraged the Malay rulers to approach issues from a Pan-Malay perspective. This unprecedented level of cooperation was expressed by Frank Swettenham, the Resident General, who said that “so far, as I am aware no Ruler of any of the four States had ever previously visited a neighbouring Sultan with peaceful and friendly intentions.”^{Footnote 44} This sentiment was echoed by the Malay rulers. At the first meeting of the rulers’ conference in 1897, the Malay rulers expressed the significance of the ceremony saying that they “are met together for the first time in history” to discuss the affairs of the Malay States.^{Footnote 45}

More important, the formation of the FMS gave Malays a more organized platform to articulate social, political, and economic concerns. With the FMS, the Malay rulers started to discuss issues that went beyond the concern of their individual states. They started to voice displeasure over the dilution of the executive and legislative role of Malay rulers and state councils. In a visit to London in 1924, Sultan Iskandar of Perak met with the king and British officials from the colonial office and expressed his displeasure over the FMS arrangement. He also wrote a memorandum to the colonial office requesting that “the original treaty (the Pangkor Engagement) should be followed in its exact terms . . . and that the rulers should be treated as the ruler with the Resident to carry out on his behalf and with his cooperation policies decided upon in consultation with a stronger state council.”^{Footnote 46} The demands made by the Malay rulers to reevaluate the Federal agreement were heeded. In the year after Sultan Iskandar’s visit to London in 1924, Governor Guillemard made major changes to the federal arrangement. The new arrangement provided more decision-making powers to Residents and State councils.^{Footnote 47}

Indeed, the creation of the FMS and attendant institutions in the twentieth century helped concentrate Malay de jure power. Increasingly the colonial administration continued to adopt policies that needed to factor in Malay political consideration. Inadvertently, it created institutions that would lead to the further development of Malay political and social capacities and the formation of a dense Malay institutional network.

Malay Education Policy

At the second Conference of Rulers in 1903, Malay rulers highlighted the need for the administration to give priority to the Malay development agenda. The rulers recorded their unease at the socioeconomic underdevelopment of Malays, pointing out that the formation of the FMS had encouraged the “increasingly alien and non-Malay character of government.”^{Footnote 48}

The rulers’ remarks prompted the colonial administration to address Malay education and to make “the provision of special facilities to instruct Malays to become useful public servants.”^{Footnote 49} The concern gave rise to a report on Malay education. Prepared by the Director of Education, R. J. Wilkinson, the report proposed the setting of “a residential school for the education of Malays of good family, and for training of Malay boys for admission to certain branches of the Government service.”^{Footnote 50} The proposal was the first comprehensive initiative that addressed Malay education. Prior to this, education was not among the administration’s list of top priorities.^{Footnote 51} Wilkinson’s proposal for a Malay education was initially met with a lukewarm response by the High Commissioner, who “has some doubts as to the ultimate success of the scheme,” but nevertheless he relented and agreed to provide for the building of a school in 1905, but only “as an experiment for three years.”^{Footnote 52} This reservation, however, proved unfounded. In the years to come, the school, despite being highly underresourced, performed exceedingly well.^{Footnote 53}

The unexpected success of the school convinced British authority to establish a permanent school. In 1909, the school was moved to a new site in Kuala Kangsar and named the Malay College. In the coming years, the college not only prepared Malay boys for administrative roles but also graduates who would later serve in the Malay nationalistic struggle. Some of its famous graduates include Ishak Mohd, who was instrumental in setting up the left-wing political party, the Kesatuan Kaum Muda (KMM), Tengku Ismail Tengku Yasin, who set up the Selangor Malay Association, a political organization, and Onn Jaafar, who would later found the United Malay National Organization (UMNO).

The school’s success opened the way for more demands for Malay education. However, there was a fear of Malay “overeducation” with officials saying that education might pose political risks. This fear was poignantly expressed by R. H. Kenion, a state legislator, who said that the administration should “teach them [Malays] the dignity of manual labour so that they do not all become Kranies (clerks) and I am sure you will not trouble which has arisen in India through over education.^{Footnote 54}

Despite such fears, the self-reinforcing nature of such a policy made reversal not an option. In fact, the initial success of the Malay College only raised expectations. It is not a surprise that the Malay College was followed by the establishment of the Sultan Idris Training College (SITC) in 1922.

The SITC is another case where the final outcome exceeded initial expectations. At the start, the SITC was meant to be a vocational school. The justification for a vocational school came from Richard Windstedt, who in a report claimed that Malays were overeducated under the present curriculum and that “the bulk of the inhabitants must turn to agriculture and other industries.” The Windstedt report then called for the removal of the fifth standard in Malay schools. In its place, the report recommended new modules in drawing, horticulture, and basket making so as to teach Malays the “dignity of manual labour.”^{Footnote 55} The report warned that “any ideal of education, not adjusted to local wants, must lead to economic dislocation and social unrest.”^{Footnote 56}

Windstedt’s initial objective, however, exceeded expectations. The SITC produced more than just vocational graduates. Instead of just producing horticulturalists, the college became a center for Malay literary activity. It drew Malay students from across the peninsula and quickly became a meeting place for bright Malay youths. The collegial atmosphere helped create a common Malay consciousness and produced a Malay intelligentsia, some of whom would go on to become leading scholars and national figures.^{Footnote 57} Prominent personalities associated with the college include Zainal Abidin Ahmad or Zaaba, a prominent writer and scholar who headed the Translation Bureau at the college until 1939. Another prominent graduate is Ibrahim Yaacob, who would later found the Kesatuan Melayu Muda (KMM), a Malaya radical nationalist party in 1938.^{Footnote 58} The SITC graduates were also behind the establishment of the popular Majaallah Guru, whose readership extended beyond the teaching profession.

The growth of Malay education coincided with increasing calls by Malay leaders for more Malays to join the civil service. This was also aided by the British administration announcement that measures be taken to freeze the increase in the number of European officers and “to train and employ natives and residents of the country in all subordinate positions in the service.”^{Footnote 59}

The Malay Civil Service

Recruitment of Malays into the civil service started in earnest only in 1910 with the introduction of the Malay Administrative Service (MAS)—almost forty years after the Pangkor Treaty.^{Footnote 60} Together with the MAS, a Malay Probationer Scheme (MPS) was also introduced. The MPS was a recruitment scheme where Malay boys were handpicked by Residents and enrolled in a three-year program at the Malay College to take courses in correspondence, treasury, and basic administration. The best of these graduates would then be placed under the newly introduced Malay Administrative Service (MAS).^{Footnote 61} These schemes came on the heels of a conjuncture of events; the formation of the FMS, the increased calls by Malay rulers for more Malay administrators, the emphasis on Malay education, and the need for local administrators due to the recruitment freeze on British officers.

Although having the MAS was a commendable start at increasing Malay administrative capacity, it was never an equal of the elite Malayan Civil Service (MCS). The MAS was described as “a very junior branch of the Malayan Civil Service.”^{Footnote 62} Malay officers played ancillary roles in the British administration. These officers mainly dealt with routine administrative tasks, some confined to duties in rural areas, as settlement officers in the land office, or as “Malay assistant secretaries.” Promotion to the prestigious Malayan Civil Service (MCS) was slow and remuneration was unattractive.

Despite the inferior nature of the service, the introduction of the MAS paved the way for more Malay involvement in the civil service. Involvement in the civil service raised expectations among Malay officers and Malay rulers, who expressed their unhappiness over the double standards between the prestigious and exclusive nature of the MCS and the dismal incentive structures of the MAS.^{Footnote 63} In 1919, the High Commissioner pointed out the need for more Malays in the civil service, saying more Malays need “to take their proper place in the administration and commercial life of these states.”^{Footnote 64} In 1921, qualified Malays were allowed entry into the MCS directly. In 1922, the Malay role in the civil service took on greater momentum following the Retrenchment Commission report. The report came up with wide-ranging policies that included giving preference to the appointment Malays to the civil service. The commission proposed that the proportion of Malays to local born non-Malays in the civil service should ultimately be a ratio seven to three.^{Footnote 65} Between 1921 and 1931, ten posts in the MCS were reserved for Malay officers. In 1923, British Residents of the FMS urged the government to absorb more Malays into the Railways and the Postal and Telegraph Department.^{Footnote 66} In 1923, Guillemard, the High Commissioner, wrote to the Colonial Office informing him that “every effort is being made to bring forward the people of the country to take part in the various departments of Government.”^{Footnote 67} This was in response to demands to include more Malays to the civil service. In fact, the General Orders for the FMS specified that “Malays must receive preference in filling all vacancies in the subordinate ranks of government employment.”^{Footnote 68}

The demand for Malays to assume higher administrative posts took on greater momentum in the 1930s. In a Federal Council proceeding in 1934, Abdullah Dahan, one of the more vocal Malay representatives, made a cutting remark that British policy on Malay civil service recruitment had not gone far enough. Even though it was “pleasing to see so many Malay peons, Malay messengers, Malay punkah-pullers, Malay sailors, Malay police constables and Malay gateman in the employment of railways,” the Malays also “desire to have a fair share of the higher posts.”^{Footnote 69}

To sum up, institutions created in the twentieth century made the British administration an accidental standard-bearer of Malay nationalism. Consistent with the path-dependent argument, British policies raised initial expectations that served only to raise more expectation. Without doubt, British affirmative action that allowed Malays exclusive civil service positions triggered more demands by elites for more Malay participation in the administration, which increased Malay institutional capacity in the twentieth century. As Roff (1967) puts it the exclusive MCS provided, “The principal avenue by which Malays might acquire in the modern world the authority that was slipping from them in the old” and brought about the “emergence of a new Malay leadership group, English-educated and increasingly influenced by Western ideas of government and social organisation.”^{Footnote 70}

Malay Journalism and Institutional Density

Although the first Malay Muslim publication was the Jawi Peranakan, established in 1876, it was only in the twentieth century that we see significant growth in Malay journalism. This growth coincided with the formation of the FMS during a period that gave rise to a Pan-Malay consciousness. The growth in Malay journalism also came at a time when there were more Malay-Muslim scholars who benefited from an improved economy and an expanded education system.

An interesting observation is that from the 1920s, Malay publications started to gravitate toward the Malay States, rather than Singapore and Penang, just about the time when Malay education started to see more professionals. The rise in Malay publications was startling. Between 1904 and 1917, there were no Malay publications in the Malay States.^{Footnote 71} However, between 1920 and 1930, out of thirty-four new vernacular newspapers, twenty were published in the Malay States.^{Footnote 72} The global depression also did little to stop the growth of Malay publications. Between 1930 and 1941, there were eighty-one new Malay periodicals and journals. In 1935–36 alone, there were twenty-five new Malay publications.^{Footnote 73} Some of the prominent publications were the Saudara (1926–41), Warta Malaya (1930–41), Lembaga (1935–41), and Utusan Melayu (1939–41).

More tellingly, Malay newspapers in the twentieth century were more than just newspapers. As Emmanuel describes, Malay newspapers were really “views papers” as they became sites for Pan-Malay developmental concerns and Malay nationalism. Emmanuel’s account of the Malay world is not altogether inconsistent with Anderson’s assertion about the impact of print-capitalism and how it gives meaning to “imagined communities” and produces attendant nationalism. During these years, Malay publications carried “new forms of public opinion-making like the editorial, increased participation in the media through letters to the editor and contributors’ articles, public readings of newspapers, and the extension of newspapers into classrooms.”^{Footnote 74} Articles on Malay development or underdevelopment grew in intensity in the 1920s and 1930s. They did not merely concentrate on Malays’ lack of capacity but increasingly toward their development vis-à-vis non-Malays. An article in the Saudara highlighted the advances made by the “bangsa bangsa asing” (alien population), which was in sharp contrast to the progress made by Malays “who are still poor, backward and weak.” The article stresses that such “qualities should never be a part of the Malays, in their own land. ^{Footnote 75}

Malays’ fear of political and economic obsolescence was further stoked by comments made by non-Malays regarding the consequent of Malaya’s emerging plural society. The British writer Arnold J. Toynbee in his book A Journey to China or Things Which Are Seen , which was quoted in the Majaallah Guru, states that he is convinced of the dominance of the Chinese in Malaya’s political economy, noting that the “race for wealth remains between the British and the Chinese.” Toynbee notes that he has not “the slightest of doubt” that the Chinese will win and that a “truly significant mark that the British Empire can leave in Malaya when she withdraws is the transformation of this country into the Nineteenth Province of China.^{Footnote 76}

In another article published in the Majaallah Guru, ^{Footnote 77} a British writer named Somerville says that the “days of the Malays are over” and that a Malays’ diminished dominance was not due to the doing of the British but from “their more industrious fellow Asiatic, the Chinese.”^{Footnote 78}

The role of Malay newspapers in rallying Malay nationalism would not be complete without mentioning the Utusan Melayu. The Utusan Melayu was founded in 1939, through an effort by a group of Malay journalists and activists who wanted a publication that “would be owned and financed as well as staffed by Malays of the Archipelago.”^{Footnote 79} In its early years, its articles did not veer too much from other mainstream Malay newspapers, touching mainly on issues of Malay underdevelopment. But in later years, the publication became a standard-bearer for Malay nationalism. The Utusan Melayu often invoked the term Bangsa Melayu (the Malay race) rather than the particular traditional attachment to the Kerajaan (the state) or raja (the monarchy).^{Footnote 80}Utusan publications were also peppered with terms like negeri (statehood), tanah ayer/watan (indigenous), and tanah Melayu (Malay land).^{Footnote 81} These terms powerfully evoked “Malayness” and contributed to a coherent Malay political consciousness, which was aided further by an increasingly educated Malay population who were more aware of their place in the development process.^{Footnote 82} At times too, the paper made pungent remarks on non-Malays, particularly Chinese. Some of the Utusan Melayu’s more scathing articles included titles such as “Orang Melayu di-perbuat seperti lembu” (Malays treated like cattle) and “Negeri Besar—Rakyat Miskin” (Great Country—Poor People).^{Footnote 83}

It is important to note that establishing such Malay-based institutions was no less helped by the presence of a small cohort of Malay intellectuals. Given the limited number of Malay intellectuals, these personalities held multiple appointments—as editors, civil servants, and activists—throughout their career. Such multiple appointments helped in the transmission of Malay political expression as they created symmetrical and consistent articulation of nationalism across Malay institutions.^{Footnote 84} Some of these figures included Zainal Abidin Ahmad (better known as Zaaba), Abdul Rahim Kajai, Ibrahim Yakob, Eunos Abdullah, Onn Jaafar, and Burhannuddin Helmi.

It is apparent that the preservation of Malay de jure power by the colonial administration improved Malay capacity. The logic of increasing returns would also see the rapid growth of Malay social and political organizations, creating a repertoire of Malay-based institutions in the 1930s.^{Footnote 85}

Malay Organizations and Nationalism

Malay organizational life is really a product of the twentieth century because other than those organized around the aristocracy, Malays did not have a Pan-Malay political and social organization. These new forms of Malay social and political organization were the result of various factors: the dismantling of the feudal economy, the expansion of the modern economic mode of production, the formation of the FMS, the increasing accessibility of education, and the emergence of a less stratified nature of Malay society.

The first Malay social and political organization, unsurprisingly, was formed in Singapore, the seat of the most rapid change in Malay social life. Formed in 1926, the Kesatuan Melayu Singapura (KMS) or the Singapore Malay Union had among its objectives: to pursue Malay social, political, and economic interests by seeking representation in the British administration; to advance Malay progress in the political, economic, and social fields; and to encourage Malay education.^{Footnote 86} One of KMS’ notable achievements was its ability to garner a more eclectic Malay leadership other than the Malay aristocratic class. The KMS founding fathers were Eunos Abdullah, Yusof Ishak, and Embuk Suloh, all from a nonaristocratic background. Eunos Abdullah was also the first Malay representative in the Straits Legislative Council.

The formation of the KMS also set the pace for the formation of other quasi-Malay political organizations in the Malay States. In September 1937, a group of Malay professionals set up the Persatuan Melayu Perak (Perak Malay Association) (PMA).^{Footnote 87} The Perak Malay Association was followed by the establishment of the Persatuan Melayu Pahang (Pahang Malay Association) on March 1938, founded by the likes of Tengku Ahmad, a member of the Pahang royal house and Dato’ Hussein Mohd, a senior administrative officer in the Malayan Civil Service. In the same year, the Persatuan Melayu Selangor (PMS) was formed by Tengku Ismail. The PMS mooted various initiatives. Among the notable ones: setting up an educational fund to sponsor students for education in the Middle East and Europe; setting up a Malay university; setting up a Malay Regiment and a Malay air force; and imposing restriction on migration from outside the Malay Archipelago.^{Footnote 88}

The 1930s also saw the establishment of the Malay left-wing movement. One prominent movement was the Kesatuan Melayu Muda (KMM). Founded in 1938 by Ibrahim Yaacob, a graduate of the Sultan Idris Training College (SITC), the KMM was an outgrowth of the Belia Malaya (Malaya Youth), a loose group established by SITC students in the early 1930s.^{Footnote 89} The KMM drew its membership from Malay teachers and graduates of the SITC and the newly established Serdang Agricultural School. Besides Yaacob Ibrahim, another prominent member of the KMM was Ishak Mohd, a former officer in the Malay Administrative Service.

The KMM adopted a more militant political struggle with its leadership persuaded by Indonesia’s (Dutch East Indies) political struggle.^{Footnote 90} Yaacob Ibrahim saw KMM’s struggle as one that “neither professed loyalty to the Sultans and the British nor spoke of non cooperation, but worked toward the nationalist feelings and teachings among its members, whose strength lay in the lower classes.”^{Footnote 91} It had thoughts of a political union with Dutch Indonesia or to form an ambitious union encompassing the Borneo States, the Dutch East Indies, and even the Philippines.^{Footnote 92}

Despite its alternative political philosophy, KMM’s political struggle found little traction with the larger Malay population. One possible reason for this failure could be that the Malayan public, still trained on feudal rule, may have found KMM’s anti-imperialist and republican stance difficult to digest. It also did not help that the KMM’s leaders gave mixed signals as to the party’s political struggle. Even its famous founding member, Ishak Mohd, gave conflicting remarks of the KMM’s struggle. In contrast to Ibrahim Yaacob’s more militant stance, Ishak said that the KMM had no desire to remove the British colonialist but served to “stop Malays being exploited by other races.” Ibrahim Yaacob, however, was bent on ending British rule. In early 1939, he established a pact with the Japanese government just before the Japanese invasion of Malaya. With Japanese support, Ibrahim acquired the daily Malay newspaper Warta Malaya to launch propaganda against the British authority.^{Footnote 93}

The momentum to set up Malay political and social organizations was boosted by the organization of the first Pan-Malay National Congress in 1939. The unprecedented congress encouraged delegates to make fervent initiatives, among them setting up a Pan-Malayan Malay association called the Persekutuan Persatuan Persatuan Melayu Semenanjong Tanah Melayu (Union of Malay Associations of the Malay Peninsula). The congress also agreed to declare August 6 as the Malay national day or “Hari Kebangsaan Melayu.”

The success of the first congress prompted the organization of another in 1940. The second congress was larger and involved delegates from the Borneo states of Brunei and Sarawak. The congress made even greater demands regarding Malay development. Some of the resolutions included a demand to preserve Malay culture and for the Malays to take an active role in the running of the colonial administration. Other important suggestions raised in the congress was the appointment of a Malay as Assistant Director of Education. The congress also urged the colonial government to appoint Malay representatives in its entire external mission and to make English education available to Malays.^{Footnote 94}

It is evident that the events of the twentieth century made Malay society by the 1940s a different society from that in the nineteenth century. The formation of the FMS, far from emasculating Malay political dominance, set off a series of institutions that contributed to the growth of a Pan-Malay consciousness. The logic of increasing returns determined that British preservation of Malay de jure power would lead to other consequences. Malay political participation at the apex of British colonial institutions, for instance, allowed Malay actors to make demands for resources, resulting in the agglomeration of more Malay-based institutions. More important, the British administration’s allowance of Malay de jure power would also result in Malays’ reevaluating Malay de facto power. The Malayan Union episode presents a classic example of the impact of British allowance for Malay de jure power—one where Malay de jure power would translate into demands for Malay de facto power.

The Malayan Union

The Malayan Union project was to serve two objectives. First, a unified Malaya would consolidate British administrative control. By the 1940s, Malaya had become an indispensable part of the empire. Malaya’s rubber and tin industry was the biggest contributor to the British economy and could well help resuscitate its postwar economy.^{Footnote 95} Second, the Malayan Union was the British response to Malaya’s emerging plural society. The Chinese community, in particular, by now figured as an important economic and political factor. Chinese involvement in the resistance force during the Japanese war also made it imperative for the colonial administration to incorporate the Chinese community.^{Footnote 96}

The Union would make for a unitary state, amalgamating the Federated Malay States (FMS), the Unfederated Malay States (UMS), and the Straits Settlements (with the exception of Singapore) into one political entity. With the Union, Malaya would come under Britain’s foreign jurisdiction act—a British crown colony—that “will render unnecessary any further dependence on Treaties with rulers in any future revision of the constitutional arrangements.”^{Footnote 97} The Union would replace the existing practice of indirect rule through the Sultans with a central administration headed by a governor based in Kuala Lumpur. More important, it would also grant non-Malays citizenship status, employ equal citizenship rights, and revoke Malay special status.

It is obvious that the net effect of the Union was another attempt to further tweak the Malay political arrangement. This time it was not just the removal of de facto but also de jure Malay political power. The timing of the Union, however, was out of sync. First, the buildup of Malay political and social expression seen in the pre- and postwar years would naturally invite strong Malay reaction against the proposal. Second, the British administration could also not have picked a worse time to push such a radical proposal. The Malayan Union project came in the midst of Malaya’s unprecedented ethnic strife just after the Japanese occupation.^{Footnote 98} The ethnic clash, aided largely by the Malayan Communist Party in the midst of a broken postwar economy, added to Malay insecurity and anxiety, and it precipitated an unprecedented show of Malay nationalism. Third, the manner in which the Union was proposed to the Malay rulers did little to help the British cause; it only invited vehement Malay political protest. In making the proposal to the Malay rulers, Harold McMichael, the British official in charge of obtaining the rulers’ approval, was brazen in his approach. The rulers were not allowed time to think through the proposal. They were also not briefed on the specifics of the proposal since the details of the Malayan Union were still being worked out during McMichael’s visit.^{Footnote 99} The Sultan of Kedah, for instance, complained that McMichael’s high-handed approach gave him little option but to agree with the proposal. He remarked that he was presented with a “verbal ultimatum” as to the time limit and if he refused to sign, “a successor, who would sign it, would be appointed Sultan.”^{Footnote 100}

The Sultan of Selangor also wrote of McMichael’s haste and strong-arm tactics. The Sultan reported that he told McMichael that the terms of the proposal were not clear to him, only to be told by McMichael that “the object of the Union is to ensure peace and progress” and urged “your Highness and the other Rulers to give your consent and not to be a recalcitrant.^{Footnote 101}

The timing of the proposal and McMichael’s attitude created the right mix for a show of Malay expression. For the Malays, there was a well-placed fear that the Malayan Union would only further relegate Malay political dominance. The Malayan Union proposal and McMichael’s visit saw the Malay organizational life picking up where it left off before the war. In Johor—which incidentally was the state that saw the worst ethnic clashes between August 1945 and March 1946—the Persatuan Melayu Johor (Johor Malay Association) felt that its rights had been sold out by the Sultan and made clear that it no longer wanted Sultan Ibrahim of Johor to be its ruler. In December 1945, Onn Jaafar, an officer in the Johor civil service and a member of the Federal Council mobilized a mass protest against the Union.^{Footnote 102} The show of Malay protest gathered momentum in December 1945 and grew more intense after details of the Union were released in January 1946. In March 1946, the United Malay National Organization (UMNO) was formed in Johor. The UMNO’s prime objective was to urge the British government to withdraw the Malayan Union proposal. The UMNO made several initiatives. First, it pressured Malay rulers to rethink the Malayan Union project, which the rulers subsequently did by petitioning the king of England. Second, the UMNO also lobbied for external support by asking ex-British Malayan officials to petition against the Union. The high point was the UMNO’s ability to galvanize Malay grassroots support and pressure Malay rulers to boycott the ceremony that marked the installation of the new Governor General of the Malayan Union. These incessant demands by the UMNO and its supporters resulted in the Malayan Union project being abandoned in May 1946. In mid-July 1946, the British government, the UMNO, and the Malay rulers agreed to replace the Malayan Union with a Federation agreement. An interesting point is that the working committee put in place to draft the Federation agreement was made up of UMNO members and Malay rulers. The drafting of the Federal constitution was finalized by mid-December 1946.^{Footnote 103}

The significant point of such a policy turnaround is that in attempting to weaken further Malay de facto power and to tweak Malay de jure power, the Malayan Union proposal only resulted in preserving Malay de jure power and strengthening Malay nationalism. In fact, the invitation extended to the UMNO members in drafting the Federation constitution and the restoration of Malay rulers as head of Malay States consolidated Malay political influence. In short, Malay de jure power remained unblemished; Malay de facto power began to show creeping significance.