The following two articles were originally contributions to a conference panel on “Malay local history: varieties of Malay experience”. The panel was concerned with the way Malay culture has been “localized” in different situations. The concept of “localization”, as discussed by Professor O. W. Wolters, refers to the process by which an imported culture tends to be “fractured and restated and therefore drained of original significance”.

This essay considers some theoretical perspectives which provide interpretations of two significant issues which cut across all the discipline lines in the social sciences and the humanities. The first issue concerns the nature of historical movement. While the world views of modern science and mechanistic Marxism claim that both knowledge and history develop in a continuous progressive manner, this notion has been challenged by historians, philosophers and social scientists who argue that historical movement in knowledge and institutional domains proceeds in a sharply discontinuous manner characterized by abrupt transformations and disjunctions. The second issue considers the compelling question of whether any researcher can proceed on the basis of a value-free research design, or whether all methodological and theoretical claims must be inevitably influenced and conditioned by the values and ideations of the theorist's culture. In terms of this controversy, the lines are clearly drawn between the notions of historical and cultural relativism predominant in Anglo-American historical and social science inquiry, and the claims of certain formalist-structuralist theorists who assert the existence of transhistorical and transcultural structural universals.

The kingdom of Lingga-Riau, with its dependencies of Johor and Pahang, traced its line of authority back to the earlier Malay kingdoms of Melaka, Singapore, Bintan and to the ultimate source Bukit Siguntang, Palembang. It was officially ended by the Dutch in 1911 when Sultan Abdul Rahman Muazzam Syah refused to sign a treaty of total submission to the colonial government of the Netherlands East Indies, and was obliged to leave the Riau-Lingga area and live in exile in Singapore until his death in 1930. Although the end of the kingdom was, and still remains, a trauma for those of noble descent in Lingga and Riau, the sultanate had in fact survived longer than most of the other indigenous kingdoms of the Malay-Indonesian world. The trauma of the ending of the kingdom prompted one descendant of the Malay royal line in Lingga to compile in 1930 an account of the Malay kings from Bukit Siguntang to Lingga. It is an account which highlights particular concerns of the author (and presumably of others in his position) about the Melaka-Johor-Lingga Malay royal lines, their relationship with other Malay royal lines and their relationship with their subjects.

Rarely has a national historiographic tradition depended so heavily on a single author as the Burmese tradition has on U Kala. A native of Ava in Upper Burma, U Kala completed the so-called “Great Chronicle”, the Maha-ya-zawin-gyi, in the early eighteenth century. Beginning, logically enough, with the start of the current world cycle and the Buddhist version of ancient Indian history, this chronicle proceeded with ever increasing detail to narrate the political story of the Irrawaddy basin from quasi-legendary dynasties to events witnessed by the author himself in 1711. Before U Kala, the only Burmese histories of which we have record were biographies and comparatively brief local chronicles. Some twenty years after U Kala finished his work, many of the original sources on which he relied were destroyed by a fire at Ava. This loss combined with U Kala's admirable prose style to establish his encyclopaedic work as a model in the eyes of all subsequent historians. The pre-1712 portions of later national Burmese chronicles — including the Ya-zawin-thit (New Chronicle), the Maha-ya-zawin-gyaw (Great Celebrated Chronicle), and the famous Hman-nan maha-ya-zawin-daw-gyi (Glass Palace Chronicle) — are more or less verbatim reproductions of U Kala's history, with some interpolations of quasi-legendary material and with limited digressions on points of scholarly dispute. In essence, therefore, we have but one chronicle prior to 1712. Not surprisingly, U Kala's Maha-ya-zawin-gyi has provided the basis for virtually every survey of pre-colonial Burmese political history.

A number of recent studies concerned with Malay history and culture reflect heightened scholarly awareness of cultural unity and structural similarities in the area we know as the “Malay world”. There remains, however, much to be learnt about the boundaries of this world and, in particular, what happens to Malay political and cultural forms at meeting points between Malay and other cultures. In some instances such interaction has led to an absorption of Malay cultural identity by those living on the fringes of Malay kingdoms. A feature often associated with the Malay world is the ease with which it seems to have been possible for those of non-Malay background to adopt Malay language and customs and thus to “become Malay”. This paper, however, will describe a frontier situation where Malay culture itself appears to have been adapted to accommodate local circumstances. It is a situation which assists us to answer the question: to what extent is the concept of a “Malay World” helpful to our understanding of Malay societies?

Ironically, the focus which Schrieke and Van Leur first brought to bear on socioeconomic changes in the Archipelago inspired scholars after them, Benda, Wertheim and Meilink-Roelofsz, among others, to plead for more dynamic structural changes than the pioneers of “Southeast Asia-centric historiography” presumed fit. The more cautious approach of Schrieke and Van Leur would appear to arise from their anxiety to establish cultural continuity as a viable basis for the study of socio-economic change. Since then change has come to be understood, particularly with reference to the maritime societies of Southeast Asia, as an indispensable element which guaranteed continuity within the basic traditions of the regions.

Khaw Sim Bee's premature death in 1913 at the hands of an assasin, allegedly torn by jealousy over Sim Bee's advances towards his wife, marked the end of an era in the family politics of peninsular Siam. Sim Bee was the youngest son of Khaw Soo Cheang (1797–1882), a Hokkien immigrant who rose to the governorship of Ranong and founded the Khaw dynasty in Siam. Through his position as High Commissioner of Monthon Phuket, Sim Bee came to dominate the political and commercial life of the region. The man who King Vajiravudh ranked “as a personal friend who will be sincerely mourned by me as a personal loss” headed a family that was equalled by few others in the kingdom.

Bedane Mekah karo Digoel is the title of a series of four articles which appeared in June-July 1930. They were written by someone signing himself Homo Sum and were published in the Javanese newspaper Swara-Oemoem, mouthpiece of Dr. Soetomo's Indonesische Studieclub.

The Singapore naval base, first conceived in 1919 and endorsed by the British Cabinet in 1921, was the cornerstone of British strategic plan in the Far East. Dubbed as the Singapore strategy, the plan entailed the building of a secure naval base in Singapore. As Britain could not afford to station a separate fleet in the Far East, the main British fleet would sail to the Far East and operate from Singapore in the event of a crisis.

On 12 March 1945, three days after Japanese forces had swept the French from power in Indo-China, Cambodia's young king, Norodom Sihanouk, declared his country's independence, noting as he did so that it would now be known in French as “Kampuchea” rather than as “Cambodge”. The proclamation, made on Japanese advice, ushered in a seven–month interregnum between periods of French control.

Over the years much has been written about the so-called attempted Communist coup in Indonesia in 1965. Many of the horrors depicted have concerned Balinese or abangan, nominal Muslims in Central and East Java, but little if anything has been written about the Catholic and Protestant inhabitants of those regions outside Java during the period 1965 and following, and how they coped with Communist activity in their districts. Hitherto there has been little said concerning the Christians' attitude towards the Partai Kommunis Indonesia (PKI) — the Indonesian Communist Party — and few reasons given for some Christians becoming members of this political party. This paper is written to shed a little light on these questions and to analyse the reasons why in more than a few districts of the eastern islands the Communist Party was by no means seen by some Christians as the archetypal enemy of Christianity. This article does not, on the other hand seek to discuss the attempted coup in detail, nor specially reasons for its occurrence or its ultimate failure. Rather it intends to describe how Communism also reacted in the face of Christianity in the islands of Bali, Flores, Sumba and Timor, and how in a few cases, each flavoured, coloured and influenced the other.

Historians have examined the Japanese peace settlement of 1951 in a variety of ways. A few have treated it as an episode in the ongoing evolution of the structure of international relations in the Pacific and East Asia. Most have focused on the interaction between the principal victor, the United States, and vanquished Japan, weighing the negotiating successes and failures of each and assessing the impact of the settlement on subsequent Japanese-American relations. Recently still other historians have exploited newly available archival materials to analyze the role middle-range powers such as Australia and Britain played in shaping the 1951 peace treaty. While this research has revealed a great deal about the San Francisco peace settlement, it has left unexplored the part small powers played in a major restructuring of the Pacific/East Asian international order.

I began this paper with a critique of current analyses of development problems, which I suggested were not “sociological” enough. I proposed to illustrate this by analyzing the recent development history of the Riam Kanan valley in South Kalimantan. Following a brief description of the valley, its inhabitants, and the hydroelectric project that has become the dominant factor in its development planning, the two major agroecosystems of the Riam Kanan valley were discussed in some detail: forest-based swidden agriculture, and grassland-based permanent field farming. Each system was found to be the object of both negative perceptions and prescriptive policies on the part of local government. I concluded, however, that there is little or no empirical basis for these perceptions and policies and that this explains the disruption and conflict to which development planning in the valley has led. The underlying problem is that government planners have automatically tended to equate their values with those of development, and the values of development with those of the environment—whereas in fact the values and interest of each of these are quite different. This should be recognized as a major problem in contemporary development, and as one with which the common paradigm of “top-down/bottom-up” cannot and does not deal. When a more sociological approach enables us to distinguish between disguised conflicts of interest and genuine development problems, the latter are found to be far less intractable than imagined. The conflicts of interest may still prove to be intractable, but better that they be seen as such, as inherent constraints on government policy, than as inherent problems of peasant ecology and economy.

In the nineteenth century the British, Dutch, French and Russians bit deep into the Islamic world. European colonial power rested on the active support of Moslem rulers who, as leaders of clearly defined and hierarchical societies possessed of laws and monarchs, were attractive collaborators in the exercise of imperialism. With a pragmatism born of frontier experience, Europeans reached agreements with Islamic regimes throughout Asia and Africa. The dictum of Usuman dan Fodio — “The government of a country is the government of its king. If the king is Moslem, his land is Moslem” — was echoed in many a European statement on the principles and practices of colonial rule. The British, for their part, struck deals with Indian princes and Fulani emirs, with the Egyptian Khedive and the Sultan of Zanzibar, with the royal houses of the Arab world and the rulers of the Malay states.

There are many elements in analyses of why multinational cooperative organization efforts such as the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) succeed or fail. The outward manifestations of success include increased economic interdependence, larger numbers of economic, political, and security agreements, more frequent consultations among leaders, and more numerous instances of joint action in the international political and security domains. Observers and students of Southeast Asian politics may follow such events in the news media or in scholarly publications by other students.

The title of this paper is influenced by that of Lee Soo Ann's book, Singapore Goes Transnational. However, the subject matter of this paper though related, is quite different. By Singapore “going transnational”, Lee was referring to how Singapore's economy became dominated by foreign transnational corporations (TNCs). During that process and period, local Singaporean companies declined in importance. This paper deals with the resurgence of Singaporean companies to the extent that some have spread their operations to other countries and have attained the status of TNCs.

Malaysia consists of Peninsular Malaysia and the two East Malaysian states of Sabah and Sarawak. Development planning in Peninsular Malaysia began as early as 1950, while the first plan for the whole of the Malaysian federation founded in 1963 was published in 1966. Have the two East Malaysian states been integrated properly into the various Malaysian plans? Or have they, with their somewhat different economic, political and social backgrounds, been treated as a nuisance element and appeared in the plans only as an afterthought? In any case, is the planning experience of Peninsular Malaysia relevant for solving the problems of the much less developed East Malaysian states?