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Books & printed materials

[2998] Reading Dina Zaman’s Malayland

When communal conflicts hit the Malaysian headlines like how it did during the recent temple controversy near downtown Kuala Lumpur, identities would experience a kind of centripetal force. In this case, the Malay identity gets solidify in the popular imagination as hardliners—politicians and ordinary people alike—rally up the crowd to join in the fight. This is true with the other communities too. When egging for a fight, it is easier to rally up a generalized identity: Malays versus Indians or Muslims versus Hindus. To appeal to emotions, simplify. The controversy has been dialed down, but the ill-feeling still lingers.

How do we fight off that centripetal pull all with the hope of undoing all those riled up emotions?

Within that context, one is tempted to take the idea of centripetal forces on identities and invert it. Instead of generalizing, maybe it is useful to de-generalize and make identity a complicated idea, which it is.

If that is so, then reading of Dina Zaman’s Malayland will prove useful. In it, the author lays out the various Malaynesses that exist in contemporary Malaysia and briefly show interest of these subgroups is not always aligned and in fact almost always diverges. The Malays are not a monolithic community, a fact that is sometimes easy to forget.

The book is not an encyclopedia of Malay subgroups and the author explores what she seems to consider the most influential ones only. She provides actual individuals behind the labels. In that way, the book feels less theoretical and more real.

One criticism that keeps popping at the back of my mind while reading Malayland is its length. There are multiple instances where the author approaches the interesting (such as events that shaped the subgroups) but almost every time that happens, the elaboration does not happen. The path ends abruptly. It is a tease and the readers are left to their own devices to satisfy their curiosity.

But there are different ways to read. Different books require different approach. To approach one in a way it is not meant to be read will left any reader dissatisfied. I think here is where the foreword by Tunku Zain Al-‘Abidin Tuanku Muhkriz is useful in framing the right approach:

The subjects in Malayland show case an even broader set of identities than its predecessor of seventeen years before—Dina’s 2007 book I am Muslim. [Page IX. Malayland. Dina Zaman.]

The purpose of Malayland, if I as a reader could be so daring, is to show the existing diversity within the Malay community. It is neither an encyclopedia nor an academic work, which several critics of Malayland, I feel, implicitly rest their (and mine too) criticism upon. The book is window for those who do not already know of identity diversity and there are many who still do not know while living in a cocoon where their outside world is a caricature of prejudice. For them, Malayland is a hook to change a worldview.

Categories
Conflict & disaster

[2997] The broken city walls of Mandalay

All countries are beautiful in their own way and Myanmar is a beautiful country indeed.

When the country just emerged out of its isolationist cocoon and optimism was sweeping through its population in the early 2010s, I had the opportunity to witness the liberalization of Myanmar firsthand by travelling approximately 2,000km for about 3 weeks from Yangon to Mandalay by buses, trains, cars, motorbikes and boats. What surprised me at first back then was that Yangon did not strike me as a particularly poor city. It seemed the democratic dividend was paying off.

But as with most countries, the reality in the capital does not always reflect that of the whole country. Kuala Lumpur feels and looks like an advanced ultramodern economy when taken out of context of the whole of Malaysia.

There is beauty in urbanity but it was the slow progress of modernity in the 2010s that made the country beautiful. Beyond the limits of Yangon within its glittering Shwedagon Pagoda and a confusing mix of brand new right-hand and left-hand drive vehicles on the road all at once, life was slower. The old ways still held fort. When I reached the famed romanticized city of Mandalay after a long train ride sitting next to a Buddhist monk, I felt I was entering a different country.

Myanmar has since slided back. The Rohingya crisis has made the country less popular in the region. Democratic progress has been rolled back. Civil war has taken hold. When I found myself travelling in northern Thailand recently, driving along the Myanmar border, Thai troops maintained high alert, stopping everybody with no exception to ensure that the situation remained safe on this side of the world. On the back of the range that divides Thailand from Myanmar, I could spy deep into the Shan state. Things were quiet and they gave no clue of the raging civil war happening far across the mountains.

Somewhere in Sagaing across the Irrawaddy river from Mandalay (I cannot recall the location exactly now but I think it was in Sagaing), there was a large cuboid temple standing 40 to 50 meters tall. The temple had a large crack running from the top to the bottom caused by an earthquake during pre-colonial times. Back then as I stood in wonder of the crack, that earthquake was an academic curiosity.

A strong earthquake has struck Mandalay this week and pictures of devastation are coming out online. Bridges have collapsed. Pagodas cracked and crumbled. Houses gone. Parts of the old city walls now suffer from gashes. I have been to some of those places and it breaks my heart to see them in such devastation.

I hope we Malaysians will help Myanmar even in our current state of politics where racism, xenophobia and general meanness is on the rise. Malaysia is the chair of Asean this year and Asean has failed the people of Myanmar in so many ways. This is a chance to redeem ourselves from all those failures, even if the window is only for partial redemption.

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Books & printed materials

[2996] Reading The Flash Boys ten years after purchase

There was a time ages ago when I was enamored with the idea of finance. Just out of university, finance was the in thing. It was during this phase that I picked Michael Lewis’s Liar’s Poker. The author describes his bond trading experience in the late-1980s and early 1990s. He has written other books over the years: Moneyball and The Big Short among them. But it took me roughly 10 years after picking up Liar’s Poker to return to Lewis. Sometime in the mid-2010s, I bought The Flash Boys from Kinokuniya Kuala Lumpur.

But it would take me another 10 years to read and finish it. I have a bad habit of buying multiple books and later forgetting about them completely. On my shelves, I think between a fifth and a tenth of books there are unread. I am glad to say there is one more book out of the unread list.

The market has changed over the past 20-30 years and the contextual contrast between Liar’s Poker and The Flash Boys is huge. The former was set in a world where there were people on the trading floors taking bids and making offers for all kinds of financial instruments. By the 2010s, the floors were empty, the financial instruments had increased in complexity beyond the comprehension of most finance-people and computers had taken over buying and selling activities. Now, the most advanced markets are driven by algorithmic trading (before everything was labelled as AI), computing power and ultimately, super high-speed internet. That is the context of The Flash Boys: it is about high-frequency trading or HFT.

The greatest lesson I get from The Flash Boys is something that I already know: not all competition is good and for the financial markets, fragmentation (including multiple listings) largely creates room for inefficiencies.

The proliferation of stock exchanges has created unfair arbitrage opportunities for those with access to the most computing power and the fastest speed. That room for arbitrage exist in less than a tenth or even a hundredth of a microsecond, a window too small for a human to notice but a lifetime for computers. Here, having competing stock exchanges means having lags introduced into the whole financial system and that lag will be manipulated by high-frequency traders that thrive on delays too small for the human senses to detect. That manipulation comes in the form of frontrunning legitimate transactions which raises the cost a great majority in the market with HFT firms pocketing the additional charges.

This is just one example where competition is counterproductive to the market. For stock exchanges, we really do want to create a deep, one-location transparent market. Anything else creates information asymmetry.

Categories
Books & printed materials Conflict & disaster

[2995] Reading The Lady from Tel Aviv

Rashid Khalidi’s The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine was the first in a set of books I bought and read during the height of Israel’s latest aggression against Palestine. Khalidi’s work turned out to be the authoritative must-read book of the year and it reframed things I thought I knew about the Israel-Palestine conflict from before. A mixture of personal and national history, the book helps me understand the messy Israeli-Palestinian history easier, compared to the effort of going through Wikipedia’s voluminous and even messier entries.

Khalidi’s is excellent but non-fictions sometimes are unable to capture certain aspects of the real world. Over the years, I have discovered that the work of fiction can close the gap. So, I went on another spending spree purchasing a few Palestine-linked literature. One that I actually read (as opposed to being left on my shelf) was Rabai Al-Madhoun’s translated work The Lady from Tel Aviv. Originally written and published in Arabic in 2009, The Lady was translated by Elliott Colla into English and then republished a year later.

In summary, The Lady is a story about a Palestinian exile’s return to Gaza post-the Second Intifada. The book appears to a semi-autobiography of the author. The three layers of reality governing the story suggest as much: the author Al-Madhoun (a journalist himself) has his exiled journalist protagonist as an author working on a homecoming novel.

For quite a heavy subject, The Lady is a light reading. So light that I feel the novel could do with more details. The book skims the surface regarding the mistreatment Palestinians faced by Israeli occupying forces, the corruption of the Palestinian Authority and the general conflict between Fatah and Hamas. It is a picture of hopelessness that Gazans embrace as a way of life, that all the troubles they face are taken as given as stoics would.

Despite all the conflicts, corruptions and injustices, he does not explore any of them deep enough. He is content to have them mentioned and unexplored, taking it as a universal obvious truth unworthy of elaboration. And then there are loose ends left to the readers’ imagination. That I think is the most frustrating thing about The Lady.

But Al-Madhoun might be aware of this particular criticism even as he was writing the novel. In a scene where the lead character, the journalist, visits his blind childhood friend Muhammad (Abu Saber) for the first time in 40 years, who is now a poor beggar with nobody else to rely on:

I think I am going to leave. I shut my eyes, unable to keep looking at the shape Muhammad is in. This is an unrecognizably distorted copy of the boy whose friendship had lit up my childhood. Abu Hatem waits for me a short way off. I turn away so no one can see the tears in my eyes.

[…]

Abu Hatem turns the key in the ignition and Muhammad realizes I am about to go. He waves his cane around the air and screams so loudly it splits my heart. As we drive away, he calls out, “Who are you—you stranger who is not a stranger?”

[…]

“Why didn’t you tell Abu Saber who you were?” asks Abu Hatem. “You broke his heart—and mine too.”

“I couldn’t do it. It would have been worse had he known it was me. If he knew I saw him like that.

 

That makes me wonder whether the lack of details is just Al-Madhoun’s way to protecting the readers from the difficult reality in Gaza.

Categories
Books & printed materials Economics History & heritage

[2994] Reviewing How Asia Works

Even when free trade consensus was at its most influential period during the 1990s, industrial policy involving government intervention across Asia was commonplace. For Asian beneficiaries of free trade and globalization like Malaysia, South and Taiwan, they were and are at best mixed economies.

Now that that consensus is collapsing and trade barriers are rising, industrial policy is becoming more and more important as a response to contemporary challenges. The US under the former Biden administration did it. Europe is trying to follow suit. China has doubled down its initiatives. Almost everybody else of importance has moved in the same direction as they try to capture some segments of a shifting and fraying global supply chain caused by competition between China and the US. As far as the China-US competition is concerned, Malaysia has been promoting itself as safe haven for cross-border manufacturers and service providers since at least the first Pakatan Harapan government.

It was this context that convinced me to re-read Joe Studwell’s How Asia Works that hit the book market back in 2013. The book does not touch about contemporary industrial policy concerns like how Chris Miller’s The Chip War does but it provides a historical overview of post-war economic development of selected prominent economies in the Asia Pacific while outlining a general theory of which industrial policy worked and which did not.

The overall framework itself is not controversial: an economy progresses from agriculture-based towards manufacturing and later service-based. That feels like a truism when we look back from a mainstream 2020s lens. In fact, even the leading communists of the late 19th and early 20th century understood this.  So, the general idea has a very long history.

What the author proposes differently is the method which an economy carries out that shift.

For newly independent underdeveloped economies during the post-World War II era, Studwell highlights that economies needed land reforms to soak up loose labor market, boost agricultural productivity and build up national surplus. Land reforms mean redistributing land from the biggest landowners to the peasants, turning tenant-farmers into owner-farmers. This solved multiple post-war challenges: social unrest, extreme mass unemployment, production disincentives associated with rentierism, indebtedness and lack of capital surplus that is required for industrialization.

Economies that managed to commit land reforms the earliest and most comprehensively are the ones to experience robust industrialisation first. Here, Japan is the original success story going all the way back to the 19th century Meiji Restoration and again later following its defeat in the World War. Taiwan did the same after the Kuomintang government fled mainland China and implemented various reforms on the island. South Korea carried this out on the urging of the United States’s occupying authorities. China attempted land reforms and achieved successes until communist excesses led to collectivism in the 1950s. Collectivism undid earlier Chinese agricultural progress and delayed Chinese industrialisation until after the death of Mao Zedong. Thailand for the longest time was in denial about the state of its economy but belatedly (and informally) allowed new land to be opened up north. Meanwhile, Malaysia and Indonesia cheated their way out of land reforms: Malaysia by encouraging land openings through Felda (and not mentioned in the book, new villages as a response to the Communist Emergency) and Indonesia through its transmigrasi program that relocated population from Java to other Indonesian islands (the most important were Sumatra and Kalimantan). Finally, the Philippines did not bother with land reforms (as a colonial power, the US is to blame: US policy here is the direct opposite of its actions in South Korea. But it is also a story of landowning elites capturing the state), leaving the profile of the Philippine economy to that of an inefficient oligarchy.

By the 1990s, land reforms and agricultural successes had a high correlation with industrialization progress. Japan, South Korea and Taiwan were the most successful in terms of how industrialized the country had become. China came second while Malaysia and Thailand perhaps were close third and fourth before the Asian Financial Crisis knocked them off the track. Indonesia was some ways behind two these economies. And the Philippines was the Sick Man of Asia and remained so until maybe the 2010s.

Malaysia and Thailand are the odd ones here. They managed to build up surpluses to carry out industrialization despite relative failures at land reforms. The reason is that they were engaged in export-led manufacturing largely financed by foreign investment that somewhat mitigated agricultural failures (it is jarring to call these two economies as agricultural failures but failures here should be defined by the counterfactual: their agricultural output under full land reforms could have been much bigger than it was in reality, following examples from Japan, South Korea and Taiwan). The jumpstarted manufacturing sector solved some problems local agriculture did not and the most obvious of that problem was mass unemployment. In Malaysia’s case, careful natural resource management also created the surplus necessary for Malaysian industrialization.

The key concept here is exports. To be a successful economy, the country has to have export-discipline. Here, again, the most export-disciplined economies were Japan, South Korea and Taiwan (and China). In Japan and South Korea, the government forced tycoons and corporations to become involved in export-led manufacturing. Taiwan was different in that it used state-owned enterprises as its export vehicles. In places like Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand however, the tycoons were happy to become rentiers and investing their surplus in largely less productive sector such as real estate, banking and other financial services. There were manufacturers but they were happy to confine themselves in the protected domestic economy in absence of a less-than-gentle nudge from the government. Here, the three Southeast Asian economies ran a flawed industrial policy for the longest time: import-substitution in a protectionist environment before foreign manufacturers came in to allow export-led manufacturing to flourish. What the author argues is exports-led industrialization/export discipline in a protectionist environment (but these protected exporting manufacturers competing against themselves). Again, the worst of the lot was the Philippines with its oligarchs.

The next stage of development is the shift towards service-based economy. The pitfall is to liberalize the economy before the industrialization process is complete. All Southeast Asian economies failed this test and made their economy more vulnerable to financial crisis. The most successful, again, were the three (and later four including China in the 2000s) that liberalize when their manufacturing had matured.

But the ultimate message is that a government has to intervene and try. Studwell shows that even those who tried half-baked reforms and industrialization achieved much more progress faster than those who did not try. Malaysia is a prime example of committing to half-baked reforms and industrialization and then ended up much better than most in Southeast Asia. Malaysia could have been a South Korea if the country had done it properly but then again, Malaysia is also not a bad place to be compared to a majority of economies out there in the world.

To not try at all is to be left behind. So, Yoda is wrong as far as industrialization and economic history are concerned.