Probably bearing Farish Noor very much in mind, an opinion-feature writer with malaysiakini pondered upon a question that has been circulating in Net discussions for some time: what can an intellectual do if powerful rulers of the world refuse to listen?

I am intrigued by the very question itself.

It is certainly a rhetorical question. Phrased in this particular manner, it allows only one answer. There is nothing that any intellectual can do indeed, in the face of this mammoth monolithic immoveable omnipotent Leviathan called realpolitik. Powerful rulers of the world are unlikely to be philosopher kings in Plato's ideal world of the Republic.

They would be too immersed in the day-to-day Machiavellian struggle for political survival, to listen to the whining of thoughtful but impractical dreamers about the decline of ethics in the political jungle.

Besides, the rakyat are concerned only with bread-and-butter issues - or nasi lemak issues. Enlightened thinkers down the millennia who aspired to transform the world must have despaired over the short memory and long hands of the masses. Lenin and Mao were the rare exceptions that prove the general rule. And look what their fanatical Utopian zeal has done to Russia and China! In short, Utopian dreams are necessarily mortal gods that will die in the course of time.

If this argument sounds persuasive, it is probably because the sentiment of fatalistic defeatism lives vibrant in the breasts of many among our educated middle-class intelligentsia. Fortunately, that a sentiment is felt does not always legitimate its validity.

Allow me to question the question-begging, so to speak. Why should it be assumed that intellectuals address themselves exclusively to the kings of the world?

Lessons from world history

Confucius certainly made this assumption. But Confucius is not to be blamed. He lived and worked 2500 years ago, when kings and emperors were autocratic rulers in their realms by a decree from Heaven. They were the sole source of justice and power, and there were no alternative forms of political organisations.

The only role for Confucius' ideal scholar - mandarins would then be to advise the rulers, by invoking the virtues of the sage kings of old, to love the rakyat like their own children. Unfortunately for China, kings and rulers in the past 25 centuries have been more interested in their conquests - either over their neighbours or their concubines - than working for the welfare of their rakyat.

We, on the other hand, should have learned our lesson from world history. For instance, the Glorious English Revolution of 1688 and the French Revolution of 1789 should have demolished once and for all the Doctrine of the King's Divine Right to Rule. Today, in modern democracies, the legitimacy of rulers comes from the consent of the rakyat, through a kind of social contract. Political power in a free state lies in the hands of the people - in theory at least.

Those same historical lessons should have also taught us that no one should be entrusted with all the powers of the state, for the autocratic ruler will eventually abuse that power to further his own material interest, or his interest in entrenching his permanent hold on power at all costs. That is why the Rule of Man has to be replaced by Rule of Law.

A complex system of checks and balances have to be built in, to ensure that power is distributed among the three branches of government, which will then operate according to the Doctrine of Separations of Powers, to prevent the concentration of power in any one institution or person.

But, even the administrative, the legislative and the judicial branches of government can work in collusion against the people, or they can be so dominated by such a strong personality in government that the checks and balances will not work in practice. That is why a free press becomes so important as the Fourth Estate, to allow for a sphere for public opinions to be voiced, against the government of the day if necessary.

A true intellectual in a modern democracy then, would more likely address himself to the public, rather then to the exclusive ears of the kings of the world. It is fine, if the rulers are enlightened enough to listen to the intellectual; but more than likely, the intellectual will incur the wrath and displeasure of those in positions of power because of his independent critical stand. Therefore, in less open democracies or outright dictatorships, a true vocal intellectual is bound to be persecuted, harassed, imprisoned or executed.

Whatever it is, what an intellectual can and should do should have little to do with whether the rulers of the world listen or not. To think otherwise, is to distort the historical role of the intellectual, and to appropriate to the rulers of the world the kind of glamour and power that they do not deserve in the first place.

Different routes

Actually, the term "intellectual" entered into European usage only at the end of the 19th century with the Dreyfus Affair in France. The term had a specific connotation, referring to writers like Emile Zola, Andre Gide, Marcel Proust and Anatole France, who intervened in the public sphere of politics in the name of Justice in order to secure the release of the innocent Captain Alfred Dreyfus.

Since then, the term "intellectual" has gone through different routes of evolution and contortion in different countries and through different times.

It is interesting that self-professed intellectuals have not always been received kindly by their own community. Some would argue that the business of politics should be left entirely to professional politicians, and so-called intellectuals should stick to doing whatever they do professionally, and not interfere with the affairs of state. Questions have been raised about their justification for the moral high ground, from which they harangue duly elected leaders of the world.

Another important debate is about the dilemma faced by the intellectuals themselves. Should they work "inside" or "outside" the establishment?

In Malaysia, we have no shortage of people with a natural inclination for wanting to be "constructive", "positive", "optimistic" and "effective". For these pragmatic souls, you can change things only from "inside", with the ready made power structure to implement your vision of social transformation. Hence, they need and seek the ears of the "rulers of the world".

Here, we have come to the crux of the question. It concerns the power relations between an intellectual and the State.

The credibility and strength of an intellectual must surely be his autonomy. In the political arena as we know it, in the world of realpolitik, nothing can distort public discourse more than personal vested interests. This distortion is what destroys the fabrics of trust which make a political community possible. The impendence of an intellectual makes him disinterested, free from considerations of personal interest. It is therefore his minimum and only strength in the critical examination of political life in his community.

Power relations

Once he decides to work within the confine of the system, he is subject to a network of power relations which will eventually encroach upon his independence and freedom of speech. He will also be occupying a niche in the imagined space of power structure, in which government allocation for his purpose, his own stipends, and the livelihood of those working under him will bear on what he should say in public. Worst of all, long periods of working with the system will inevitably compel him to internalise the norms of the state.

In his 1993 BBC Reith Lectures entitled Representations of the Intellectual, Edward Said painted a compelling and attractive portrait of the traditional intellectual: the guardian and custodian of independent judgement owing loyalty to truth alone. He told his audience of "the figure of the intellectual as a being set apart, somebody able to speak the truth, acourageous and angry individual for whom no worldly power is too big and imposing to be criticised and pointedly taken to task."

For him, the real intellectual is therefore always an outsider, living in self-imposed exile and on the margin of society. He or she speaks to, as well as for, a public, necessarily in public, and is properly on the side of the dispossessed, the unrepresented and the forgotten.

Such an intellectual would not have paid heed to a question like: what can any intellectual do, if the rulers of the world refuse to listen? He would have debunked the question-begging long ago.