Apparently Muslim Malaysians are now boycotting American products.
This despite the products in question being made locally by Malaysian companies - which, per fiat, have to be minimally 30% bumiputra-owned (as opposed to Malaysian-Chinese), which means that those who will be hit hardest will be Malaysian citizens.
Here is the notorious former prime-minister of Malaysia with a simplistic statement:
"If you stop accepting US currency, the US can't trade and can't make any money, it will become very poor and it will have to stop the production of more and more weapons in order to kill people. People must act... they won't die if they don't drink Coca-Cola"
------Dr Mahathir Mohamad
In one sense, this is an outgrowth of the xenophobia traditional among the kampong-electorate, though this most recent manifestation is because of our foreign policy, especially our support of Israel. Malays have an unhealthy dislike of everyone who is not of their faith, most particularly Chinese, Indian, Jews, and Americans.
Events in Gaza prompted the current boycott.
TRADE
Very well. Let's look at some ideas. The U.S. is Malaysia's largest trading partner, while Malaysia is the tenth largest trading partner of the United States, currently allowed very favourable terms, and bucking for FTA status.
At present, trade amounts to over fifty billion dollars, mostly computers, computer accessories, telecommunication equipment and electronic goods. Nearly half of U.S. exports to Malaysia are semi-conductors.
Companies that use Malaysian manufacturing are General Electric, ConocoPhillips, Microsoft, Hewlett-Packard and Oracle, among others.
MALAYSIAN APARTHEID POLICIES
Malaysia is one of the last countries practicing a form of apartheid, namely the Bumiputra policies, which give ethnic Malays (mostly defined as Moslems and Borneo tribal peoples) preferences over the Chinese and Indians. For purposes of discrimination, Chinese who have been there for several centuries are classed as outsiders, while recent carpet-baggers from Java and Sumatra are considered natives. Anybody who converts to Islam almost automatically becomes a native, though conversion from Islam to other religions is forbidden. The gentleman quoted above, though technically a foreigner (being descended from South Indian Muslim stock), is by the peculiar logic of the Bumiputra policies native because of his religion. Yes, Malaysia is also one of those countries where religion is a basis for discrimination.
The term for conversion to Islam is 'jadi melayu' - becoming Malay. Which indicates that the main targets for Bumiputra-policy discrimination are Chinese and Indian - precisely the people whose enterprise and gumption for the past two centuries have made Malaysia a modern nation.
The main beneficiaries of the discriminatory laws are the coastal settlers from Sumatra, Riau, Borneo, and Java, as well as the descendants of Bugis pirates and Minangkabau adventurers, who only since the clearing of jungle during British times have moved inland in substantial numbers.
The Bumiputras who do not benefit from Malaysia's peculiar form of apartheid are the non-Muslim tribal peoples of Borneo, who are systematically robbed by Melayu (Malay) and Melanau (Islamic convert speaker of Malay) settlers. Nor, oddly, are the Tausug and Samal (who are indigenous to certain areas of the Sabah coast) beneficiaries, as admitting them as natives would be disadvantageous to Melayu and Melanau .... settlers.
Ethnic Malays, of course, consider their discrimination perfectly normal. And regard us as less than human.
CONCLUSION
In short, this pestilential piece-of-drek country has utterly no business telling the rest of the world what to do. And would be well advised to shut up, and not try a boycott. Especially not now. Not if they wish continuing talks on a Free Trade Agreement to go anywhere.
It would be worth your while to bring this up with your elected representatives, and with the American companies listed above, as well as others. And I encourage you to let your voice be heard.
===============================================
ADDENDUM
If you wish to tell the Malaysians precisely where to stuff it, contact the nearest Malaysian Trade Commission office.
In California:
Malaysian Industrial Development Authority (MIDA)
550 South Hope Street, #400Los Angeles, CA 90071
PH: (213) 955-9183
FX: (213) 955-9878
Malaysian Industrial Development Authority (MIDA)
226 Airport Parkway, #480San Jose, CA 95110
PH: (408) 392-0617/8
FX: (408) 392-0619
Here are other useful addresses:
Embassy of Malaysia
2401 Massachusetts Ave. NW
Washington, DC 20008.
PH: (202) 328-2700
FX: (202) 483-7661
Consulate General of Malaysia - Los Angeles
550, South Hope Street, Suite 400
Los Angeles, CA 90071.
PH: (213) 892-1238
FX: (213) 892-9031
Consulate General of Malaysia - New York
313 East 43rd Street
New York, NY 10017.
PH: (212) 490-2722, 490-2723
FX: (212) 490-2049
I am sure that they will delighted to hear from you - especially as a frank discussion of the ethnic situation in Malaysia will touch a matter near their hearts. Either as the happy beneficiaries of institutionalized racism, or the resigned and resentful victims.
Showing posts with label Bunga Bangkei. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bunga Bangkei. Show all posts
Monday, January 12, 2009
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
THREE O'CLOCK ANTIWAR PROTEST UPDATE
Mild ruckus down at Market and Montgomery Streets - about two hundred rather disreputable people confronting the very patient constabulary. Traffic blocked in all directions, with a white arrestee bus on South Montgomery near the art school. Two people with megaphones making what sounded like airport announcements.
No news helicopters overhead.
I'm bored.
Twelve Galaxies guy was also bored. He moved off before I could take a photo.
Some simple-minded fat man got into a screaming match with an unwellspoken young person with a bad haircut. Even though he presented his arguments supporting the war in an unconvincing manner, it was evident that he and his opponent were intellectual equals - the top-of-their-lungs conversation revealed no surprises, no talent for rhetoric, no cogent argumentation. Such a perfect match, they should've made passionate love to each other right there and then - I doubt that they would have ever found each other again, and despite their repulsiveness and unaesthetic physiques, they made a lovely couple.
Unfortunately, they simple kept it at high-decibel flirting. Shoot.
I'm soooo bored.
Eventually most of the police moved off. There was little point in staying, as they had expeditiously packed the dangerous people into the prison bus.
I really must commend the police in San Francisco. Patient, forbearing. Courteous. Very well-mannered. Such a contrast with our visitors from Berkeley. Better dressed, too.
Crap this is boring.
For your information, the city is still not shut down. This is a breach of promise on the part of the Direct Action to Stop the War folks and their cohorts.
Frank Chiu is wandering around looking for a protest. The guy selling his own rap-ceedees outside the Wells Fargo on the corner is doing no more and no less business as usual. The newspaper vendor seems happily in his own world, unconcerned with the unimpressive ruckus two blocks away. There are several people in the window-lounge of the cigar shop, less than half a block from the angry hairy folks at Market and Montgomery street, enjoying what appears to be a quiet and relaxed post-prandial smoke. An unbalanced person at Sansome and Sutter Streets is hollering at an invisible friend to stop kicking him. The gaunt engineer in the office across the street from me is smoking a pipe while correcting some documents.
There are no helicopters. The sky is nice and blue, with spots of white. A gentle breeze stirs the fresh green of the trees. Did I ever mention that I smoke a pipe?
Krikey I'm bored.
No news helicopters overhead.
I'm bored.
Twelve Galaxies guy was also bored. He moved off before I could take a photo.
Some simple-minded fat man got into a screaming match with an unwellspoken young person with a bad haircut. Even though he presented his arguments supporting the war in an unconvincing manner, it was evident that he and his opponent were intellectual equals - the top-of-their-lungs conversation revealed no surprises, no talent for rhetoric, no cogent argumentation. Such a perfect match, they should've made passionate love to each other right there and then - I doubt that they would have ever found each other again, and despite their repulsiveness and unaesthetic physiques, they made a lovely couple.
Unfortunately, they simple kept it at high-decibel flirting. Shoot.
I'm soooo bored.
Eventually most of the police moved off. There was little point in staying, as they had expeditiously packed the dangerous people into the prison bus.
I really must commend the police in San Francisco. Patient, forbearing. Courteous. Very well-mannered. Such a contrast with our visitors from Berkeley. Better dressed, too.
Crap this is boring.
For your information, the city is still not shut down. This is a breach of promise on the part of the Direct Action to Stop the War folks and their cohorts.
Frank Chiu is wandering around looking for a protest. The guy selling his own rap-ceedees outside the Wells Fargo on the corner is doing no more and no less business as usual. The newspaper vendor seems happily in his own world, unconcerned with the unimpressive ruckus two blocks away. There are several people in the window-lounge of the cigar shop, less than half a block from the angry hairy folks at Market and Montgomery street, enjoying what appears to be a quiet and relaxed post-prandial smoke. An unbalanced person at Sansome and Sutter Streets is hollering at an invisible friend to stop kicking him. The gaunt engineer in the office across the street from me is smoking a pipe while correcting some documents.
There are no helicopters. The sky is nice and blue, with spots of white. A gentle breeze stirs the fresh green of the trees. Did I ever mention that I smoke a pipe?
Krikey I'm bored.
Friday, September 21, 2007
JENA? A THOUSAND JENAS NOW!
A mass of protestors several times larger than the town itself descended on Jena in Louisiana yesterday.
This was an absurd and overblown demonstration by any standard. And everytime I see the usual suspects (King relatives, sneering Baptist ministers, and angry "spokesmen" or "leaders of the black community"), I get the same nauseated feeling in my stomach as when Bush or Cheney are on the television. Opportunists, hypocrites, swine.
Indeed, the trial of that young feller was a travesty. And the Jena six are being treated more harshly than a bunch of redneck good ole boys would've been in a similar situation.
But let us not forget that six of them ganged up on the victim.
I realize that holding to the idea that a fight should be fair and balanced is rather ridiculous and old-fashioned, but evenso.
Nevertheless, Jena was not about Jena. And there is good reason for frustration on the more richly pigmented side of the fence.
TO ILLUSTRATE
This morning I tried to flag down a taxi. On the corner opposite me, a black woman was trying to do the same. A very civilized looking black woman, clean, neat - an office worker late for work, or rushing to an appointment. In any case, both of us were clearly trying to get to the financial district, further down California street, on the other side of the hill.
An approaching taxi was heading towards the intersection, and I stopped waving. She had been there first, it was nearer to her than to me, and it would've been bad form to compete with her taxi-opportunity.
The taxi veered deliberately away from her, crossed the intersection, and stopped for me.
Did I mention that I am a white male?
I should have. I am as white and glow-in-the-dark as they come. I radiate honky.
I do not usually define myself solely in terms of gender and skin-hue, but in this case it seems appropriate, as it appears to bear greatly on what I am describing.
The taxi driver beckoned that I should get in. I shook my head and waved the taxi on.
Taking that taxi would, I feel, have been reprehensible. Either we all get treated equitably, or we all end up screwed.
I am not feeling particularly good about the experience, though, as I let a chance slip by. You see, I am not really a nice person - I have an immense streak of bitchy mean nasty a-hole in me. And this would've been a splendid opportunity to nurture that side, to have coaxed it into full riotous bloom. Fecund, rank, and gigantically unpleasant, like the Titan Arum.
I could have, and should have, and indeed would have if I had been awake enough, given that particular taxi-driver such a harangue that it would've generated nightmares and post-traumatic stress. Vented. Used pointed insults in several languages, cleanly and brutally analyzing the driver's family tree for several generations. Viciously and eloquently caused a crisis of confidence and identity that would have prompted a drastic career change. Induced fear, panic, and hysterical weeping.
My mean streak would have thoroughly enjoyed that.
Once more: Either we all get treated equitably, or we all end up screwed.
We need a thousand protests such as the one yesterday in Jena now.
Son-of-a-bitch.
This was an absurd and overblown demonstration by any standard. And everytime I see the usual suspects (King relatives, sneering Baptist ministers, and angry "spokesmen" or "leaders of the black community"), I get the same nauseated feeling in my stomach as when Bush or Cheney are on the television. Opportunists, hypocrites, swine.
Indeed, the trial of that young feller was a travesty. And the Jena six are being treated more harshly than a bunch of redneck good ole boys would've been in a similar situation.
But let us not forget that six of them ganged up on the victim.
I realize that holding to the idea that a fight should be fair and balanced is rather ridiculous and old-fashioned, but evenso.
Nevertheless, Jena was not about Jena. And there is good reason for frustration on the more richly pigmented side of the fence.
TO ILLUSTRATE
This morning I tried to flag down a taxi. On the corner opposite me, a black woman was trying to do the same. A very civilized looking black woman, clean, neat - an office worker late for work, or rushing to an appointment. In any case, both of us were clearly trying to get to the financial district, further down California street, on the other side of the hill.
An approaching taxi was heading towards the intersection, and I stopped waving. She had been there first, it was nearer to her than to me, and it would've been bad form to compete with her taxi-opportunity.
The taxi veered deliberately away from her, crossed the intersection, and stopped for me.
Did I mention that I am a white male?
I should have. I am as white and glow-in-the-dark as they come. I radiate honky.
I do not usually define myself solely in terms of gender and skin-hue, but in this case it seems appropriate, as it appears to bear greatly on what I am describing.
The taxi driver beckoned that I should get in. I shook my head and waved the taxi on.
Taking that taxi would, I feel, have been reprehensible. Either we all get treated equitably, or we all end up screwed.
I am not feeling particularly good about the experience, though, as I let a chance slip by. You see, I am not really a nice person - I have an immense streak of bitchy mean nasty a-hole in me. And this would've been a splendid opportunity to nurture that side, to have coaxed it into full riotous bloom. Fecund, rank, and gigantically unpleasant, like the Titan Arum.
I could have, and should have, and indeed would have if I had been awake enough, given that particular taxi-driver such a harangue that it would've generated nightmares and post-traumatic stress. Vented. Used pointed insults in several languages, cleanly and brutally analyzing the driver's family tree for several generations. Viciously and eloquently caused a crisis of confidence and identity that would have prompted a drastic career change. Induced fear, panic, and hysterical weeping.
My mean streak would have thoroughly enjoyed that.
Once more: Either we all get treated equitably, or we all end up screwed.
We need a thousand protests such as the one yesterday in Jena now.
Son-of-a-bitch.
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