Colonial discourse analysis has proven one of the most fruitful and significant areas of research in recent years. This paper considers the orientalist discourse and its context in the case of pre-colonial Malaya. It discusses the concept of “feudalism” as employed by historians of western Europe, by those of precolonial Malaya and, thirdly, by selected post-colonial writers. In discussing the works of Clifford, Maxwell and other nineteenth-century British officials on Malay feudalism, the author argues that the truth value of their analyses should not be dismissed out of hand, for they have much of value to say, that would repay careful study.

Colonial Malaya is one of the classic examples of a plural society. In Furnivall's memorable words, it was a society in which “each group holds its own religion, its own culture and language, its own ideas and ways”, a society made up of different groups “living side by side, but separately, within the same political unit”. It is perhaps because of this all-important characteristic that social historians have tended to focus on one or another of the groups in Malayan society. There have been excellent studies of the Malays, the Chinese, and the Indians, and more recently historians have begun to look at smaller groups such as the Europeans. These studies have tended to emphasize the political history of the various groups, the effects of British policies, the history of immigration, and (for the Chinese) the workings of secret societies, but some attention has also been paid to important social changes such as the emergence of new organizations and elites. A very rewarding field has been the history of Malay education, which has revealed the ways in which the different forms of education were responsible both for reinforcing traditional Malay social structure and for introducing change. Clearly, the study of particular ethnic groups has been extremely fruitful. And a great deal more remains to be done.

The 1930s Depression caused an enormous growth in urban poverty in colonial Java. Informal neighbourhood networks could no longer cope with the unemployed, the homeless and the destitute. Politically conscious Indonesians were convinced that the colonial state was concerned only with poverty among Europeans. They responded by creating new charities focused on the Indonesian lower classes. Many provided middle-class women with opportunities for leadership denied them in the political and labour movements. However, those who managed the charities had no concept of empowering the poor. In dispensing support they made a clear distinction between the deserving and the undeserving poor. Nevertheless their charitable work enabled thousands of Indonesians to survive the Depression years.

This article focuses on the eastern region of the Red River Delta, Vietnam, between the tenth and sixteenth centuries. This area was an important centre of economic and population growth in Đại Việt in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and nurtured Đại Việt's sophisticated and renowned ceramics industry, hosted leading schools of Vietnamese Buddhism and bred a rising class of scholars and bureaucrats. The region's rapid rise as an economic and political centre was, however, also the key to its undoing. The sudden spike in population density, and the intensive logging carried out for ceramic production, and temple and ship building, overtaxed the area's natural resources. The burden on the local ecology was exacerbated by the Trần dynasty's dyke building project, which shifted the river's course. The ensuing environmental deterioration might have been one major reason for the Vietnamese forsaking the large-scale ceramic production in Chu Đậu, deserting their main port, Vân Đồn, and for the Chinese abandoning a historical maritime invasion route.

From the mid-nineteenth century onwards there developed in the British colonies a distinctive set of forestry practices that came to be described as Empire forestry. These practices grew out of the same milieu as imperialism, and had their earliest expression in British India. Gregory Barton argues that Empire forestry also heavily influenced the forestry of the United States and that from there it spread to the Philippines. However, this article argues that the variant of Empire forestry developed in the Philippines was not particularly successful as its proponents failed to adequately adapt it to local social and political conditions.

This paper is a reflection on a number of theatre performances held in Singapore, each of which probed problematic or traumatic historical events occurring either in Singapore itself or in other parts of Southeast Asia. These avant-garde performances were inspired by or built around actual testimonies of individuals in ways which, for this author, suggest a striking fluidity in the boundaries between testimony and performance, one that raises difficult questions about performance ethics and the processes by which collective memories are shaped. The plays also made use of visual media: one had been recorded on video while others incorporated photographic and video materials into the actual performance. At the time I witnessed these plays, I had already become interested in the way that, over the course of the twentieth century, documentary films had come to play an increasingly important role in the recording of testimony concerning traumatic events. Testimony on film, I have argued, functions simultaneously as evidential trace, and as performative event. Films of testimony develop their own trajectories as they enter into the realms of public remembering. They preserve and extend the record of personal experiences, thereby adding them to the pool of collective memory about an event. Theatrical performances, too, develop their own trajectories through repetition, as Marvin Carlson's statement (cited above) suggests. But what exactly might be different when testimony is performed as drama before a live audience? What are the purposes of such performances, and what might be their possible effects upon both participants and audiences? Is the trace left by a live theatre performance inevitably more ephemeral than those captured on film, or might it be in some respects even more powerful? These are some of the questions I raise – without necessarily being able to present definitive answers – in what follows. I conclude by arguing that in the Singapore context, because censorship laws place very specific constraints on the making of documentary films with openly political content, in recent years theatre has been able to offer a slightly greater space than film as a medium for critical reflection. How theatre directors and actors have tried to use this space is a subject correspondingly deserving of our close attention.

Set in Manila in 1813 during the implementation of the Liberal Spanish Constitution of 1812, this case study of the conflict between natives and Chinese mestizos over seating arrangements in a small parish church demonstrates how the new charter challenged the hierarchies of colonial political space. Despite its centralist aim, the Constitution instead empowered multiple ethnic groups, while reinforcing local notions of self-government and autonomy. Though a brief period, it was a significant one, as natives and Chinese mestizos constructed complex political identities. In turn, these identities set a political precedent which re-emerged during the second constitutional period (1820–23) with more wide-ranging political consequences.

Working from recently declassified Australian and British government files, this paper examines the archival evidence on policy thinking in London and Canberra towards the Five Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA) during the period 1970–75. The article argues that one of the main reasons for the Heath government's decision to deploy a token military force in Southeast Asia as part of a multilateral defence arrangement with Australia, New Zealand, Malaysia and Singapore was the desire to uphold these Commonwealth connections. By contrast, Canberra was beginning to question the value of such arrangements in a rapidly changing Southeast Asian strategic environment.

In two recent review articles, I.W. Mabbett summarizes the prehistoric and historic sources bearing on the question of “Indian influence on the development of Southeast Asian societies”. Asimilar review was undertaken by Paul Wheatley in “Satyantra in Suvarnadvipa” and more recently by Ken Hall. Each of these authors make similar points: that there are essentially three major hypotheses that have been advanced over the years to account for the spread of “Indian influence” (the Brahmana, Ksatriya, and Vaisya respectively, to which we will return); and that evidence on which to decide amongst these hypotheses is lacking. After a “brief outline of the sources on ‘Indianization’ which is practically complete”, I.W. Mabbett concludes that:

It is unlikely that prolongation of the catalogue of possible sources would add much to what has already been gleaned — more Indian trade goods, more inscriptions recording the activity of pious Hindu or Buddhist rulers, more unreliable Chinese second-hand accounts of Indian priests and Indianized “kingdoms”. The purpose in extending the catalogue this far had been twofold. In the first place, it is to make quite clear that the actual process of “Indianization” is nowhere reliably portrayed; what is portrayed by the earliest evidence is the operation of kingdoms already Indianized; and therefore the various theories that have been offered are speculation. One may seem more plausible or attractive than another, but none has been established.

It is the thesis of this paper that the Communist Uprisings of 1926–27 in Indonesia were neither “proto-nationalist” nor a “revolution of hope”, as they have been called by two historians. I shall try to show that there were decidedly nationalist characteristics in the demands which the Communists made, in the objects against which the revolt was directed, and in the makeup of the Communist leadership at both the highest and secondary levels; furthermore, that, despite the era of prosperity which the colony was enjoying, the situation of the peasant was worsening.

Singapore became an independent sovereign state on August 9, 1965 It may be alleged that to attempt an analysis of a country's foreign policy only three years after its independence is premature. Yet there are certain basic facts about Singapore which no political leader can ignore, and these become the determinants or roots of Singapore's foreign policy. To that extent, Singapore's foreign policy is predictable because the range for manoeuvre is limited.

In the past two decades, social scientists have paid considerably greater attention to the possible role of native sociocultural frameworks in structuring the organization of economic enterprises. The primary research focusing on the Japanese and Chinese cases relates to the emergence of many highly competitive industries in capitalist East Asia in which relations of production do not necessarily resemble American or Western industrial relations. The following historical analysis of production relations in the pottery industry of Tân Vạn, a major centre of Southern Vietnamese ceramic production, seeks to contribute empirical data for comparative purposes within the East Asian sociocultural sphere.

More than a decade ago, when Singapore was still part of Malaysia, the author wrote, at the invitation of the Journal of Economic History, a bibliographic essay on the economic history of that country. It turned out to be an exploration into the possibility of writing a general economic history of Malaysia. It concluded that the nineteenth century was better studied than the twentieth, and that certain states, periods, and sectors of the economy received greater attention than others. The conclusion then was that a general economic history of Malaysia was not feasible.

Southeast Asia is the world centre of mangrove development. Not only is there a greater diversity of species, but the areas covered by mangrove forests are more extensive. This paper is concerned with the utilization of the mangrove forests in Thailand and Peninsular Malaysia (along the west coast), which is bounded by that part of the Indian Ocean called the Andaman Sea. The Burmese mangrove forests are probably very similar to these, but they will not be treated in this paper.

Responding to the new forces unleashed by the Second World War, Whitehall planners devised a new scheme that envisaged the creation of Malayan Union Citizenship. In a fundamental break from past practice, the new scheme sought to confer citizenship privileges on Malaya's non-Malay population. In the aftermath of the War the implementation of the new policy embroiled the Colonial Office in a major constitutional controversy that threatened not only Britain's traditional relationship with the indigenous Malay community but also the bases of British rule in Malaya.

Among the most obvious and durable monuments to the colonial age in Asia are the great engineering projects which have permanently transformed the physical and economic geography of the continent. Many of these have an interesting history of their own, both in the political and commercial history of the country building them and on the level of international politics. This is true not only for such successfully completed projects as the Suez Canal or the Trans-Siberian Railway, but also for great schemes which were never realized. In Southeast Asia the long-discussed Kra Canal is the most famous instance of the latter, but it is not unique. Throughout most of the second half of the Nineteenth Century the British Government and especially the British business community dallied with the idea of a rail link between the Bay of Bengal and the interior provinces of China. Those familiar with the building of the Burma Road will understand the enormous engineering problems involved in such a plan. But for most of the Nineteenth Century geographic knowledge of Southeast Asia was extremely vague and the lure of a several thousand mile shortcut to the perennially fascinating markets of China exerted a strong pull on the imagination of a commercial nation. Ultimately, international political complications and sound economic logic killed ven the idea of such a railway. But the light it throws on government — business relations within the British Empire and on imperial rivalries in Southeast Asia makes the story of the first Burma Road, the one that was never built, well worth the telling.

In the last quarter of the nineteenth century Britain converted her paramountcy into effective control in the central and southern states of the Malay Peninsula (except Johore) through the device of British Residents whose advice the several Malay rulers were obliged to accept in “all matters of administration”. But strong local pressure for the extension of this system northwards into the Siamese part of the Peninsula was neutralized by the Foreign Office which sought alternative means of safeguarding British interests there. This paper examines the various arrangements considered when the intrusion of another European power appeared likely, culminating in a secret convention between Britain and Stem signed in April 1897.

In any attempt to clarify ths problems generated by the writing of history, one is always beset by the difficulty of selecting a point of departure. This is particularly the case with the study of Malaysian history, by which term I mean Malaya, Indonesia, Borneo, and the Philippines. Close as we now are to a political Malaysia, this term is used here purely in the geographical sense.

Shrimp farming in Southeast Asia is often touted as a globalisation success story. The region emerged as a key area for farmed shrimp production in the 1990s, and it remains a leading producer of shrimp for export to international markets to this day. This achievement has not, however, been without cost. Small-scale shrimp farmers in Southeast Asia have suffered persistent social, economic and environmental dislocations stemming from price pressures imposed by globalisation and neoliberal economic policies in the seafood sector. Community supported fisheries (CSF) represent an alternative marketing model which could potentially support small-scale producers in Southeast Asia whose viability is threatened by the intensification of shrimp production by large corporate interests. This article investigates opportunities for CSF in the region, encourages research that builds social capital in aquaculture communities, and identifies opportunities to link small-scale shrimp farming operations with local markets that seek high quality seafood produced in an environmentally sustainable and socially responsible manner.