Are the Malays Being Marginalized in Penang?
My friend Shamsul Ikhmar recently asked me a serious question on behalf of his friend, who is doing a thesis on the Malays in Penang: Are the Malays being marginalized here?
At the time, I hesitated to answer directly. Instead, I told him to let his friend read my blog. Perhaps she might find a piece or two that sheds light on how I see the ethnic situation here.
Of course, the Malays in Penang are being marginalized—but before anyone jumps to conclusions or misquotes me, let me continue. The harsh truth is: much of this marginalization is self-inflicted, perpetuated by the Malays themselves and among themselves. It’s easy to point fingers at other races, but much harder to admit our own shortcomings—both as individuals and as a society. It's a bitter pill to swallow.
I recall reading somewhere—perhaps in an UMNO pamphlet or a USM publication—that the definition of a Malay today is: someone who grew up among Malays, knows only the culture he was raised in, and is a Muslim. By that definition, people like Tun Mahathir, Indian Muslims, and even people like myself—whose father’s ancestry is Sri Lankan—qualify as "Malay." But what is a true Malay? Are they the folks from the heartlands of Kedah, Perlis, Kelantan, and Terengganu?
Even these, when you trace their lineage, are mostly of Indonesian or Thai ancestry. The only true sons of the earth, as we Malays often claim to be, are the Orang Asli—the aborigines—and the indigenous peoples of Sabah and Sarawak.
Penang Malays, specifically, came mostly from Indonesia. They were here even before the British. Tok Janaton and his brother settled at Batu Uban and other parts of the island, forming the early Malay settlements. Then came the Indians and Chinese, brought in as indentured laborers by the British East India Company. The British, as always, took every advantage of the Malay rulers’ ignorance to slowly and systematically colonize the island. They were master manipulators, a parasitic force in human history. They had nothing, created nothing, but took everything through cunning, deception, and brute force.
The British had no genuine love for the Malays. They merely tolerated us because we were easy to manage. Give a Malay a title, and he becomes the proud rooster of the kampung. Pay him a little more than the rest, and you’ll have a humble, loyal servant for life. But who is the real, pure-blooded Malay deserving of the title son of the soil? Find him, honor him, and ask if he has ever claimed his rights. You’ll find that those who make the most noise usually have the least legitimate claim to the title.
So yes—Malays in Penang are marginalized, and will continue to be so, no matter who governs: whether it’s Barisan Nasional or the Opposition. The original Penang Malays are a rare breed now, mostly surviving in places like Balik Pulau, Telok Bahang, Tanjung Tokong, and a few parts of Jelutong and Sungai Pinang. They’re hanging on—barely—until the city council (MPPP) decides it’s time to reclaim the land that was once handed to them by the British.
Let’s not forget: the MPPP is the true landlord of Penang. Everyone with the right connections has their hands in its coffers. The PDC (Penang Development Corporation) is its business sibling. Together, they sell off the island piece by piece to the highest bidder—local or foreign.
Would a true son of the soil sell his land and heritage for profit? I don’t think so. Whether Malay, Chinese, or Indian, a real Penangite would rather live in poverty than surrender an inch of his land. At least then, we’d still have our home—our heritage. But Penang is merchandise now. It fetches a high price on the international market and is slowly becoming another Singapore or Hong Kong.
Who benefits from this development? The Malays? Which Malays? The true Malays, not the “half this, half that” Malays? The Chinese? The Indians? No one. We’re all victims of the same delusion—caught in a political trap that keeps us fighting each other while the real powers maintain control. “Divide and rule”—the oldest colonial trick in the book—still works today, just more subtly.
It’s ironic, isn’t it? We call ourselves a Heritage City while preserving little more than the memory of our colonial masters. We were indentured slaves, and now we honor their architecture, their culture, their legacy—at the cost of our own.
Our ancestors sold their birthright to the British, traded away our culture for a taste of the Western lifestyle. And we’re still doing it today. We mimic the West, always a step or two behind, clinging to the illusion that we are free and progressive. But we’re still slaves—mentally, culturally, spiritually.
So yes, we’re marginalized. Not just by others, but by our own ignorance and delusions. We’ve lost our native wisdom, our true cultural compass. And now we’re obsessed with ethnic identity—Malay, Chinese, Indian—when what we really need is unity of heart and mind.
So, Merdeka! Let’s celebrate our “independence,” our “freedom” from colonialism and mental delusion. But let’s also wake up. This is our land, our home, and it should belong to our children and their children, too.
To the outsiders: you are welcome here. But come with respect. Don’t let your desires displace the lives of those who have called this place home for generations. Don’t turn our island into a commodity. Penang welcomes you—but please, leave with goodwill, not greed.
And if you still ask whether the Malays are being marginalized in Penang, you’ll find the answer woven between the lines of this blog.
I wrote this while hungry and thirsty during the fasting month of Ramadan—not to provoke, but to share what I see and feel.
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