Contestations of Memory in Southeast Asia

William Noseworthy

In Contestations of Memory in Southeast Asia Waterson and Kwok encourage us to remember just what we have forgotten: that forgetting is part of remembrance, and that the relationship between the two is fundamental to the discourse of history in Southeast Asia. To do so they draw upon a significant breadth of studies that dissect the cases drawn from the histories of the Philippines, Vietnam, Indonesia, Malaysia, Laos, Burma and Singapore. Curiously absent, despite the editors’ clear recognition of their relevance to the theoretical questions posed by this volume are cases drawn from the history of Thailand and Cambodia. While some readers may be left to wonder how these absences occurred, others may be less concerned with these particulars and will be more interested in the significant theoretical contributions of this volume to the study of ‘historical memory’ in Southeast Asia.

Waterson and Kwok remind us that the study of memory is relevant to many disciplines, highlighting that there is room for collaboration between bio-chemical scientists, psychologists and historians on the subject. However, “endless shades of continuity mark the continuum between remembering and forgetting…” (p. 2). Nevertheless, while remembering, we, as human, tend to rely upon Prospective memory, “which enables us to draw upon past experience in order to plan for the future” (p. 20), Semantic memory - that enables the knowledge of the preset (through short term acquisition), Episodic memory – that enables knowledge of the past and Autobiographical memory that may be even more long term (p. 21). But where is historical memory in all of this discussion? Is historical memory a means of combining prospective and autobiographic memory? Or is it a combination of all four aspects of memory? OR, is there something particular about historical memory that requires forgetting as well as remembering? This is the central suggestion to this volume. And thus, Waterson and Kwok argue that a historian cannot simple be concerned with ‘facts’, but rather “A different kind of engagement is thus demanded of the historian, a moral engagement which cannot afford to affect a ‘neutral’ position or to ignore testimony (that is, memory)” (25)…and…“Perhaps it is precisely this impulse to make a moral engagement with the past that, more than anything else, keeps it alive for us” (p. 37).

In addition to the inspiring theoretical engagement with memory studies across disciplines and the important discussion of the ethics of the historian, Waterson and Kwok have collected a series of essays that reflect how language, memorial and the aims of politics shape our understandings of historical memory as societies and as individuals. They themselves point out that certain well thought out reflections upon these issues can be cast out of consideration with the example of the play – The Spirits Play – which was a reflection upon the problematic history of Japanese engagement in Southeast Asia – deemed to pro-Japanese in Singapore but also not supported by the Ministry of Culture or the Tokyo municipal government in Japan (p. 41). The case of The Spirits Play is reminiscent of how narratives that do not take a stance that is too political may be criticized by both sides. The politics of the circumstance may remind one of how the Vietnamese monk Thích Nhất Hạnh was simultaneously criticized during the conflict of the Vietnam war as being a communist sympathizer (by the Republic of South Vietnam and Americans) and an Imperialist sympathizer (by the Democratic Republic of Vietnam). Such cases are reminders of how individual narratives are often mustered for political reasons. This mustering of source material for politics is directly linked to Aung-Twin’s (2012 this volume) assessment of the Burma Rebellion Files in the archives and how Aung-Twin demonstrates that many see these files and similar sources following the theoretical frameworks provided by Michel Foucault, “…as expression of colonial power and authority…” (p. 60) and Pierre Nora, as an illustration of “…how the colonial state managed the memories. In the case of the Burmese rebellion in particular, the argument was also presented that the “memory of past kings stirred villagers into rebellion” (p. 73) and thus it becomes clear that while controlling the memory of the present had also been a means of attempting to secure the future for the colonial state, that the very control of the past has been a means of state control as well.

 

State control of the past

One sees the control of ‘state control’ over the past as a particularly strong theme throughout this volume. In particular, in Pholsena’s examinations of the narrative of Ethnic minorities in Laos, we are shown how an ethnic majority can lay claim to the histories of minority peoples as the memory of the Alak man named Pha Ong Keo and Phu Mi Buon (“The Holy Man”) – who led a revolt against the French in Southern Laos in the early twentieth century – and, had subsequently been suggested to be a proto-Boddhisattva, was manipulated into an image of the ‘great anti-colonial revolts’ of the Lao peoples, as Pholsena argues that, like Vietnam, Laos, in its approach to ethnic minorities, has adapted a stance that portrays the Lao as the inevitable victors of history, while simultaneously celebrating the great ‘multi-ethnic’ movements of Lao history (pp. 87-92). These themes of state manipulated histories emerge throughout this volume, but they are particularly strong in the essays presented by: Istiaisyah bte Hussin (Textual Construction of a Nation) and Heddy Shri Ahimsa Putra (Remembering, Misremembering and Forgetting). We also see this theme as emergent in Low Hwee Cheng’s essay as the author notes how ‘racially’ motivated riots of the 1950s were erased from the state education system (p. 223). However, in Shri Ahimsa Putra’s essay we are reminded how change can take place in the state narratives as the author argues that social memory and the changing nature of Indonesian politics may open up challenges to the old Soeharto vision of history.

After the essay presented by Heddy Shri Ahimsa Putra, the volume seems to take another turn in that there are a series of essays wherein one emergent theme is how there can be multiple visions of historical interpretation that exist within a single landscape. This contestation has been particularly the case in both the interpretations of history in Vietnam and the Philippines. Through these essays the issue of language also emerges as a theme, particularly as cases from Singaporean history are considered.

 

The power of the language

In the case of Vietnam Li-Lian highlight how “power and ideology are two concepts so closely linked that it is difficult to tell them apart, for the ideology rests on power for its maintenance while power relies on ideology to strengthen its grip” (p. 108) and how “Language carries with it an ideological function pertaining to reality and power distribution” (p. 108). Upon reflection, however, it appears that we are seeing a sort of reassertion of the power of capitalism retrospectively through the case of the Vietnamese historical landscape. Particularly through the renaming of the Museum of American War Crimes to the War Remnants Museum (p. 111) and a long list of several other sites in Vietnam that might be noted as either “Vietnamese” or “American” points of historical interest, but rarely, both (p. 117). This questions related to this shared memory scape of post conflict memorials relate directly to José’s exploration of the Philippines in the wake of the second world war. In particular the theme of language plays even more strongly through José essay as the contested memory spaces in the Philippines differ, and English and Tagalog translations of Japanese text do not always match the Japanese meanings (p. 198). Then, riffing upon this theme of language in the case of Singapore, Kwok Kian-Woon relates how language policy was simply biased through the example pulling on the narrative of the Wang Gungwu report. On the one hand the English speakers who had difficulties with Chinese were granted concessions. On the other hand the peoples who were Chinese but did not speak English received no pedagogical or institutional support (p. 259).

The argument that institutional support has the power to change perceptions of historical narratives can also be seen in José’ s essay regarding the memory of the Second World War as J o se concludes that the research of the Toyota foundation in Indonesia and the Philippines has led to a positive impact and a potential to reconcile contested histories (p. 198) although he notes that “war memories will continue along with and perhaps in spite of – the work of historians (p. 199).” And so, one wonders: how should the work of historians take a shape on the teaching of history for future generations? Should we look at the 1950s riots that took place in Singapore in terms of the Muslim vs. Christian divide and see the 1964 riots as an aspect of racial tensions, as some of Low Hwee Cheng’s sources suggests? (pp. 207-214) How should national and popular memories be reconciled in the minds of students? Are they naturally competing forces? (p. 220) Are there certain events, such as the 1964 riots that may be considered of paramount importance to one generation but forgotten by the next (pp 225-226)? Are there ‘generational’ difference that might also be contextually specific? For example, one source from Kwok’s essay there is a narrative of a source who sees Dongfang Hong [The East is Red] through the lens of “leftist thought” while the Beatles are considered “Western” (p. 243). Meanwhile, in the United States and Europe the Beatles would frequently be noted for being ‘leftist, socialist’ even critiqued as ‘pinkos,’ while fans of the Beatles supported them through the bands ‘exploration of Eastern culture.’ In this example are we seeing the beginnings of an imagined ‘cosmopolitan other’ in that emerges in the mid-twentieth century?

Though this volume may cause readers to reflect upon all of the above questions, it also presents a very humanitarian approach to the construction of the historical narratives contained within, with great attention to the personal accounts of individuals who are frequently left out of state, scholarly and popular accounts of histories. This is particularly the case in Budian’s exploration of the experiences of three wives of political prisoners after their husbands were imprisoned in 1965. One opts for cohabitation with another married man and then returns to her husband in the end. Another is alone, the third relies upon her parents for support (p. 276). Then after their husbands are released they exhibit different reactions. The first hopes her son will not be like his father. The second controls her husbands political activities. The third lives with her husband, he becomes a worker and then a teacher (p. 280). Budian present the argument that these narratives reveal the underlying partriarchal structures of Indonesian society: as those who challenge those structures are met with difficulties and those who do not challenge them, while still met with hardships, do not meet with so many difficulties (p. 286). In the end, one might wonder the, how to examine Baudian’s own as essay as a means or an attempts to shift the patriarchal structures, through pointing out the nature and the shades of roles that are considered as fulfilling these structures, does the essay also highlight how to challenge them?

 

Conclusion

It is with the above question in mind that we return to the outset of the questions posed by this volume, the assertion that there is a moral imperative to the work of the historian and the assertions of the editors of the volume. Through their fascinating and provocative theoretical engagement with the concepts of Foucoult and Norra regarding the construction of historical narratives, is it then possible to critique any one of the position held within this volume? With the concerns of the editors in mind there is but one troubling statement: “The Cambodian case raises perplexing questions of its own, notably the fact that the victims here were not obviously identifiable as an “out-group”, except in so far as difference could be manufactured by means of an ideology of class warfare – a point that begs still further comparisons, most obviously with China’s Cultural Revolution and prior to that, with Russia’s Stalinist purges” (p. 34). While this one statement could not be taken as wrong per se, it does exactly what many of the authors and editors of the volume have sought to prevent: that is the silencing of the narrative of the most disturbingly simple case to discuss for the concerns of the history of Cambodia: that by the accepted international definitions of genocide, there was a clear genocide that was carried out by the Khmer Rouge. The first is the ethnocide that was carried out against the Cham, Malay, Vietnamese, Chinese and minority populations. The second is the religicide that was carried out against the Islamic minority. Even the Extraordinary Chambers of the Courts of Cambodia, only the genocide against the Cham and Vietnamese minorities is being examined. The case of the Cham has been well accepted, but only in certain circles, as the above statement highlights. However, the case of religicide committed against Muslims is in danger of being overwritten. Nevertheless, this volume stands as a clear example of a well-researched, provocative engagement with history and politics of contemporary Southeast Asia, worthy of further discussion in classrooms across the disciplines.

 

William B Noseworthy (noseworthy@wisc.edu)

CAORC Senior Research Fellow: Center of Khmer Studies

Herfurth Fellow: Department of History University of Wisconsin-Madison