The economic imbalance between the Chinese and the Malays have been in existence from the early part of the century (the 20th). As early as the 1940s, there existed state enactments to provide for land reservations for the Malays. Later, the Reid Commission, in 1957, accepted the situation with regards to special privileges and affirmed the continuation of Article 153 of the Federal Constitution (provisions relating to safeguarding the special positions of the Bumiputera and to ensure the reservation of proportions in :- 1) positions in the federal public services ; 2) scholarships, educational and training privileges ; and 3) permits and licenses for operation of trade and business).
But it is also pertinent to note that the Reid Commission also recommended that these special privileges should be reviewed after 15 years. However, instead of the review and the anticipated abolishment, a new twist came about in consequence of the 1969 riots.
The NEP was announced in 1971 in the wake of May 13. The goal of the policy is to eradicate poverty and economic restructuring so as to eliminate the identification of ethnicity in economic function. This, it is hoped, will be achieved by redistributing the wealth of the Bumiputera from a mere 2.4% (in 1971) to 30% (by 1990).
Therefore, instead of the special privileges disappearing altogether after 15 years (from 1957, as recommended by the Reid Commission), it was not only continued, but had more political muscle added to it via the NEP. The NEP, in theory, ended in 1990 (succeeded by the National Development Policy in 1991), but in effect, is still going on through the Government’s existing policies. The 30% target was never achieved in 1990.
And funnily enough, from an academic discussion point of view, the positive discrimination of the NEP is based on the concept of equality – i.e. to discriminate in order to create equality. See the rather interesting antithetic of the statement.
The NEP was implemented through various methods, amongst them :-
1) discounts on purchase of properties ;
2) reservation of quotas for admission to public universities (as opposed to quotas in granting of scholarship allowed in Article 153 of the Constitution). It is germane to point out that the Bumiputeras are also given opportunity to enter matriculation programmes instead of the two-year STPM ;
3) setting aside of 30% share for Bumiputera investors for IPOs. This includes the phenomenon of the creation of trust agencies to effect purchase of shares and ownership of enterprises on behalf of Bumiputeras
The NEP proper, stripped of its negative political nuance and undertone, is a noble and commendable effort. However, its implausible implementation and suspected execution brought about several unanticipated and unwarranted outcome, amongst them :-
1) its’ policy on education contributed to brain drain in the professional, medical and economic sectors ;
2) it place the Government administration largely under the Bumiputeras control ;
3) creating the Ali Baba phenomenon – the Malays are now dependent on the Government, rather than thrusting new entrepreneurs. The policy, sadly, descended to, arguably, an institutionalized system of handouts ;
Apart from the usual calls to put an end to the NEP, there has been, interestingly, demands by certain quarters in UMNO to extend the tenure of the NEP. This is an expected trait, and is in fact one of the greatest danger of the policy – the difficulty in removing an advantage which the Bumiputeras has already grown accustomed to; the tendency to accept these rights as one of permanence, rather than a temporary privilege.
As an end note to this post – notice how the Indians fit into this whole discussion? Well, as a matter of fact, they don’t. The Indians are still in the lower segment in terms of economic ownership. Brings a novel significance to the Hindraf’s cause, doesn’t it?
Friday, December 28, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Short Story (1,100 words) - (Title :- Tuan Syed)
Tuan Syed was visibly excited. It was his first day at work. His father would definitely be proud. Tuan Syed’s father had always wanted his son to be a judge. Tuan Syed dutifully read law in the local university, and upon graduating, enrolled in the Judicial and Legal Service. And today, he is to report for duty as a magistrate.
Tuan Syed reached the court early – well before the clock-in time. The other court staff are already present. Ravin, the court interpreter, introduced himself, “Tuan, first day, no need to worry so much.” Tuan Syed smiled. Junaidah, the secretary, quickly briefed the new magistrate on the affairs of the day. “Cases will be called at 9.00 sharp Tuan. You may call for a recess after the mentions. That is the usual practice.” Tuan Syed nodded.
He sat in his chambers. It is just a small room. “Well, I am just a magistrate. I can’t be expecting a chambers befitting of a High Court Judge,” thought Tuan Syed. He then pondered as to how his first day will go about. He wondered whether he will be a good judge. He never wanted to be a judge – it was only to please his father. But then again, he never had any other ambitions either. There was a sudden knock on the door, jolting him from his cogitating slumber. It was Junaidah, “Tuan, Ravin says the court is ready.” “Yes, I am ready as well,” replied Tuan Syed.
As the new magistrate made his entrance into the high pedestal, all the lawyers and members of the public stood up; a gesture of respect to the institution of the judiciary. As Tuan Syed takes his place, he suddenly feels nervous sitting so high up, all alone. “I hope I don’t blunder,” he thinks to himself.
Ravin calls the first case. “Rosmawati binti Kassim!” shouts Ravin in authority. On his right, Tuan Syed sees a burly character, garbed in the usual black and white. “Sarveen Singh for the plaintiff. I am acting for the bank,” bellows the rather monstrous advocate. Tuan Syed is somewhat taken aback. “Err, yes” he murmurs. “Tuan, my client has a claim for RM150,000 against this lady. She has failed to pay her housing loan for the past 5 months.” It was only then that Tuan Syed was able to catch sight of the lady standing at the far-left corner of the court. She was a gaunt-looking middle-aged lady – meek and desolate. With her are four children; one infant in her arms, and three other mournful looking souls by her side. “Tuan Magistrate,” says the lady in a soft whisper. She was hardly audible. “My husband placed my name in the house. He is the sole-breadwinner,” explains the lady. “And where is your husband now?” inquired Tuan Syed. “He has left us 3 months ago for another woman. I do not have the means to pay. I need the house for my children. I am still breast feeding the youngest here,” pleads the lady in a weak and slow manner. “Please help me sir, for the sake of my children.”
Tuan Syed’s heart sank. “Where is your lawyer?” he inquired. “Oh sir, I don’t even have enough money to feed my 4 children …. ,” came her reply, her voice almost choking. Sensing the inexperience of the new magistrate, Sarveen Singh retorted boisterously, “Tuan Magistrate, judgment against the defendant.” “But Mr. Sarveen, you heard her story,” interjected Tuan Syed. “Tuan, we are not concerned with such matters. The defendant has failed in her instalment, judgment must be entered at once,” answers Sarveen, his voice even louder now. Tuan Syed’s eyes darted back to the lady. She is clearly in tears now. So are her children. Tuan Syed is at a loss. He wished the floor would just open and devour him - that would save him from deciding. “Tuan! I pray for judgment against the defendant,” growls Sarveen Singh again. Tuan Syed lowered his head, suddenly feeling quite ashamed and defeated. “Judgment against the defendant,” he dejectedly declares. He couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the lady.
During the court recess, Tuan Syed quickly steps out for some air. He felt awful. He was a terrible judge, and a terrible person. Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of the lady and her children across the road. Tuan Syed quickly went up to her. “Madam,” he says, “I am truly sorry. I was just doing my job.” The lady looks up and smiles, “I understand. I don’t blame you. It is my husband who got me into this trouble.” Tuan Syed then took out from his wallet - RM200 in cash, his spending for the month. “Please Madam, I want you to have this,” declares Tuan Syed. “But sir, I cannot.” “No, I insist. For the children,” says Tuan Syed. And almost immediately, he turned his back and dashed back into the court building.
The next day, right after the recess for lunch, Junaidah anxiously told her magistrate, “Tuan, the Chief Registrar wants to see you immediately”. Tuan Syed’s heart skipped a bit. “Oh no! Someone must have seen what I did yesterday,” thought the apprehensive magistrate. As he walks across the building to the Chief Registrar’s office, a myriad of thoughts went through Tuan Syed’s mind, “I will definitely be relieved of my post, no question about that. I will be the first magistrate to be sacked after two days.”
His heart was beating wildly as he stood in front of the door. A short knock ensued. “Yes, come in,” the voice answers. “Ah, Tuan Magistrate Syed,” says the Chief Registrar. “You wanted to see me sir,” a nervous Tuan Syed stammered. “Yes, I’ll go straight to the point,” says the Registrar, “I have news of what you did yesterday. You know, this has never happened before in our history.” Tuan Syed tries to explain. “I don’t need your explanations Syed,” interjected the Chief Registrar.
He then gives Tuan Syed a broad smile. “Don’t worry, there is nothing I can do to you. You gave someone money out of the kindness of your heart. That is no crime. Now, if you had received money, that would be another story, wouldn’t it?” says the Registrar, in his deep voice. “Syed, there not many like you. You have compassion. You will be an asset to the judiciary,” continues the Registrar.
As Tuan Syed walks back to his chambers, he thinks to himself, “I will be a good judge after all.”
Contributed by
SEOW HOCK PENG
http://theconstructionlawyer.blogspot.com/
Tuan Syed reached the court early – well before the clock-in time. The other court staff are already present. Ravin, the court interpreter, introduced himself, “Tuan, first day, no need to worry so much.” Tuan Syed smiled. Junaidah, the secretary, quickly briefed the new magistrate on the affairs of the day. “Cases will be called at 9.00 sharp Tuan. You may call for a recess after the mentions. That is the usual practice.” Tuan Syed nodded.
He sat in his chambers. It is just a small room. “Well, I am just a magistrate. I can’t be expecting a chambers befitting of a High Court Judge,” thought Tuan Syed. He then pondered as to how his first day will go about. He wondered whether he will be a good judge. He never wanted to be a judge – it was only to please his father. But then again, he never had any other ambitions either. There was a sudden knock on the door, jolting him from his cogitating slumber. It was Junaidah, “Tuan, Ravin says the court is ready.” “Yes, I am ready as well,” replied Tuan Syed.
As the new magistrate made his entrance into the high pedestal, all the lawyers and members of the public stood up; a gesture of respect to the institution of the judiciary. As Tuan Syed takes his place, he suddenly feels nervous sitting so high up, all alone. “I hope I don’t blunder,” he thinks to himself.
Ravin calls the first case. “Rosmawati binti Kassim!” shouts Ravin in authority. On his right, Tuan Syed sees a burly character, garbed in the usual black and white. “Sarveen Singh for the plaintiff. I am acting for the bank,” bellows the rather monstrous advocate. Tuan Syed is somewhat taken aback. “Err, yes” he murmurs. “Tuan, my client has a claim for RM150,000 against this lady. She has failed to pay her housing loan for the past 5 months.” It was only then that Tuan Syed was able to catch sight of the lady standing at the far-left corner of the court. She was a gaunt-looking middle-aged lady – meek and desolate. With her are four children; one infant in her arms, and three other mournful looking souls by her side. “Tuan Magistrate,” says the lady in a soft whisper. She was hardly audible. “My husband placed my name in the house. He is the sole-breadwinner,” explains the lady. “And where is your husband now?” inquired Tuan Syed. “He has left us 3 months ago for another woman. I do not have the means to pay. I need the house for my children. I am still breast feeding the youngest here,” pleads the lady in a weak and slow manner. “Please help me sir, for the sake of my children.”
Tuan Syed’s heart sank. “Where is your lawyer?” he inquired. “Oh sir, I don’t even have enough money to feed my 4 children …. ,” came her reply, her voice almost choking. Sensing the inexperience of the new magistrate, Sarveen Singh retorted boisterously, “Tuan Magistrate, judgment against the defendant.” “But Mr. Sarveen, you heard her story,” interjected Tuan Syed. “Tuan, we are not concerned with such matters. The defendant has failed in her instalment, judgment must be entered at once,” answers Sarveen, his voice even louder now. Tuan Syed’s eyes darted back to the lady. She is clearly in tears now. So are her children. Tuan Syed is at a loss. He wished the floor would just open and devour him - that would save him from deciding. “Tuan! I pray for judgment against the defendant,” growls Sarveen Singh again. Tuan Syed lowered his head, suddenly feeling quite ashamed and defeated. “Judgment against the defendant,” he dejectedly declares. He couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the lady.
During the court recess, Tuan Syed quickly steps out for some air. He felt awful. He was a terrible judge, and a terrible person. Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of the lady and her children across the road. Tuan Syed quickly went up to her. “Madam,” he says, “I am truly sorry. I was just doing my job.” The lady looks up and smiles, “I understand. I don’t blame you. It is my husband who got me into this trouble.” Tuan Syed then took out from his wallet - RM200 in cash, his spending for the month. “Please Madam, I want you to have this,” declares Tuan Syed. “But sir, I cannot.” “No, I insist. For the children,” says Tuan Syed. And almost immediately, he turned his back and dashed back into the court building.
The next day, right after the recess for lunch, Junaidah anxiously told her magistrate, “Tuan, the Chief Registrar wants to see you immediately”. Tuan Syed’s heart skipped a bit. “Oh no! Someone must have seen what I did yesterday,” thought the apprehensive magistrate. As he walks across the building to the Chief Registrar’s office, a myriad of thoughts went through Tuan Syed’s mind, “I will definitely be relieved of my post, no question about that. I will be the first magistrate to be sacked after two days.”
His heart was beating wildly as he stood in front of the door. A short knock ensued. “Yes, come in,” the voice answers. “Ah, Tuan Magistrate Syed,” says the Chief Registrar. “You wanted to see me sir,” a nervous Tuan Syed stammered. “Yes, I’ll go straight to the point,” says the Registrar, “I have news of what you did yesterday. You know, this has never happened before in our history.” Tuan Syed tries to explain. “I don’t need your explanations Syed,” interjected the Chief Registrar.
He then gives Tuan Syed a broad smile. “Don’t worry, there is nothing I can do to you. You gave someone money out of the kindness of your heart. That is no crime. Now, if you had received money, that would be another story, wouldn’t it?” says the Registrar, in his deep voice. “Syed, there not many like you. You have compassion. You will be an asset to the judiciary,” continues the Registrar.
As Tuan Syed walks back to his chambers, he thinks to himself, “I will be a good judge after all.”
Contributed by
SEOW HOCK PENG
http://theconstructionlawyer.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
A Short Story (Less than 1,000 words) - (Title : Sweet Sixteen)
Edward is dying. He lay in the hospital bed, motionless. He knew his end is near. He felt the passing in his body – his soul wilting and fading. His physical and spiritual mortality has relinquish him. The years of toil has return to reclaim its due penance. Edward begins to close his eyes. His still-conscious mind embarked on a reflection; a spiritual cogitation of his life journey - a tale of romance and tears.
... Edward’s life chronicle begins in the forlorn countryside of Latvia. His home village is an image of calm and tranquil. He was then age 26. He was happy, for he was engaged to be married. His love, Agnes, was only 16. He refers to her as his sweet sixteen. Agnes was the most beautiful of all the maidens in the village. Despite her youthful age, she displays maturity in mind and character well beyond her years, which is a sharp contrast to Edward. His physical appearance sadly complement that of his lover. He is short, and far too skinny. His face is craggy and gaunt; his demeanour poor – a result of his impoverished background and imperfect upbringing. But yet in him Agnes is able to find affection. Not surprisingly, the relationship was scorned upon by fellow villagers. “There goes the plebeian and the dainty lass”, they would say. But Edward bears no resentment to such remarks.
... Edward remembers the episode on the night before the wedding. It was twilight – the faint half-light still encompassing the sphere of the sky. He can still make sight of Agnes running up to him – an almost shadowy silhouette image. But Agnes was teary-eyed, a picture of sorrow and grief. “Edward.” “Yes, my love” he answered. “I cannot go on with the wedding.” Almost at once, Edward’s world came crumbling. Agnes’ parents have changed their mind and have forbidden her to continue with the marriage.
That night, Edward experienced such bleakness and solitude like no other. In his desolation, he contemplated his future. He concludes that there is no longer a tomorrow for him in his village. He will move far away. The wee hours of that morning, he made haste to bid a final farewell to his lover. “No, I will run away with you” pleaded Agnes. “My love, there is no need for that. We are not meant to be together. But I will always love you. I have no regrets. God has been kind. I was given the chance to love you, and for you to love me. Our short-lived affair has filled my heart with happiness to last me a lifetime. Remember Agnes, you go on with your life. Be happy, and I will be happy for you as well.” And with these concluding remarks, Edward turned his back to set out his new chapter.
... America was a harsh, rugged terrain; so unlike his homeland. Edward has since rooted himself to this faraway country. He is now living his life a recluse, keeping most of times to himself. All he has is a barren piece of land which serves as his solitary confine. It is an empty desolate wasteland – a juxtapose to his vacuous life. But this arid desert is an oasis of coral rocks – a colossal heap of boulders, all scattered in an uneven jagged pattern. It was from these conglomerate mount that Edward began carving a monument to his lost love.
Edward would begin his day early in the morning - finishing assigned tasks for a fee. As soon as dusk sets, he would embark on his spiritual enterprise - the collection of the coral stones. He would lift and manoeuvre the blocks to his desired location. He would then chip and chisel the rocks; forming and shaping it to be parts of a dwelling home. He would work tirelessly, depriving himself of rest and sleep. He has only one aim, to build a castle in memory of his lover.
... Thirty years has since passed. Edward has not heard of Agnes all this while. His castle has since taken shape. The castle is indeed a palace - a megalithic fortress of coral rocks, complete with courtyards, ditches, drawbridge and watchtower. It also houses all types of furniture and fittings imaginable, sculpted out by Edward’s mastery craftsmanship. The castle has attracted many visitors. The crowd would come in drove to see the magnificent edifice. They would view all these in disbelief, that a small puny man can build such a monumental structure on his own. For the true believers, they say that love moves a man.
... Edward opens his eyes. He is back in the hospital bed. He is now a dying old man. He reflected on his journey, and wonders – whether his metamorphosis from a gentle lover to a recluse builder is an indication of his insanity; a demented mind so bend on wasting one’s life away on a futile undertaking. To what end did it serve, thought Edward. Surely he must have gone mad all these years. But then he recalls Agnes; her smile and the beautiful times spent with her in the countryside village of Latvia. No, he did not waste his life away. He had her love. That was all that matters to him. He smiles in contentment. He hopes his sweet sixteen is happy, wherever she is. Edward then closes his eyes…
* This story is a true account. Edward Leedskalnin was engaged to be married to Agnes Scuffs, who was then only 16. When Agnes cancelled the wedding just one day before the ceremony, the dejected Edward rooted himself to Homestead Florida. It was there he spent the rest of his life creating a monument to his lost love.
Coral Castle, as it is known today, is a popular tourist destination. Edward Leedskalnin never married. He died in 1951, at age 64 - still pinning for his sweet sixteen.
Contributed by
SEOW HOCK PENG
http://theconstructionlawyer.blogspot.com/
... Edward’s life chronicle begins in the forlorn countryside of Latvia. His home village is an image of calm and tranquil. He was then age 26. He was happy, for he was engaged to be married. His love, Agnes, was only 16. He refers to her as his sweet sixteen. Agnes was the most beautiful of all the maidens in the village. Despite her youthful age, she displays maturity in mind and character well beyond her years, which is a sharp contrast to Edward. His physical appearance sadly complement that of his lover. He is short, and far too skinny. His face is craggy and gaunt; his demeanour poor – a result of his impoverished background and imperfect upbringing. But yet in him Agnes is able to find affection. Not surprisingly, the relationship was scorned upon by fellow villagers. “There goes the plebeian and the dainty lass”, they would say. But Edward bears no resentment to such remarks.
... Edward remembers the episode on the night before the wedding. It was twilight – the faint half-light still encompassing the sphere of the sky. He can still make sight of Agnes running up to him – an almost shadowy silhouette image. But Agnes was teary-eyed, a picture of sorrow and grief. “Edward.” “Yes, my love” he answered. “I cannot go on with the wedding.” Almost at once, Edward’s world came crumbling. Agnes’ parents have changed their mind and have forbidden her to continue with the marriage.
That night, Edward experienced such bleakness and solitude like no other. In his desolation, he contemplated his future. He concludes that there is no longer a tomorrow for him in his village. He will move far away. The wee hours of that morning, he made haste to bid a final farewell to his lover. “No, I will run away with you” pleaded Agnes. “My love, there is no need for that. We are not meant to be together. But I will always love you. I have no regrets. God has been kind. I was given the chance to love you, and for you to love me. Our short-lived affair has filled my heart with happiness to last me a lifetime. Remember Agnes, you go on with your life. Be happy, and I will be happy for you as well.” And with these concluding remarks, Edward turned his back to set out his new chapter.
... America was a harsh, rugged terrain; so unlike his homeland. Edward has since rooted himself to this faraway country. He is now living his life a recluse, keeping most of times to himself. All he has is a barren piece of land which serves as his solitary confine. It is an empty desolate wasteland – a juxtapose to his vacuous life. But this arid desert is an oasis of coral rocks – a colossal heap of boulders, all scattered in an uneven jagged pattern. It was from these conglomerate mount that Edward began carving a monument to his lost love.
Edward would begin his day early in the morning - finishing assigned tasks for a fee. As soon as dusk sets, he would embark on his spiritual enterprise - the collection of the coral stones. He would lift and manoeuvre the blocks to his desired location. He would then chip and chisel the rocks; forming and shaping it to be parts of a dwelling home. He would work tirelessly, depriving himself of rest and sleep. He has only one aim, to build a castle in memory of his lover.
... Thirty years has since passed. Edward has not heard of Agnes all this while. His castle has since taken shape. The castle is indeed a palace - a megalithic fortress of coral rocks, complete with courtyards, ditches, drawbridge and watchtower. It also houses all types of furniture and fittings imaginable, sculpted out by Edward’s mastery craftsmanship. The castle has attracted many visitors. The crowd would come in drove to see the magnificent edifice. They would view all these in disbelief, that a small puny man can build such a monumental structure on his own. For the true believers, they say that love moves a man.
... Edward opens his eyes. He is back in the hospital bed. He is now a dying old man. He reflected on his journey, and wonders – whether his metamorphosis from a gentle lover to a recluse builder is an indication of his insanity; a demented mind so bend on wasting one’s life away on a futile undertaking. To what end did it serve, thought Edward. Surely he must have gone mad all these years. But then he recalls Agnes; her smile and the beautiful times spent with her in the countryside village of Latvia. No, he did not waste his life away. He had her love. That was all that matters to him. He smiles in contentment. He hopes his sweet sixteen is happy, wherever she is. Edward then closes his eyes…
* This story is a true account. Edward Leedskalnin was engaged to be married to Agnes Scuffs, who was then only 16. When Agnes cancelled the wedding just one day before the ceremony, the dejected Edward rooted himself to Homestead Florida. It was there he spent the rest of his life creating a monument to his lost love.
Coral Castle, as it is known today, is a popular tourist destination. Edward Leedskalnin never married. He died in 1951, at age 64 - still pinning for his sweet sixteen.
Contributed by
SEOW HOCK PENG
http://theconstructionlawyer.blogspot.com/
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