So what do the Chinese really want?

A former political colleague from Penang used to tell me that all a Chinese could ever want in life is to become a towkay (businessman).

There seems to be a grain of truth in his cynical observation. With the entire political system tilted against them, and with little land for agricultural purposes, most Chinese make their living without any hope of government assistance, in the world of private enterprise. There, despite the quota system, their ruthless ingenuity and incredible hard work have ensured their survival.

A few years ago, both Lee Teng Hui of Taiwan and Lee Kuan Yew of Singapore attributed the success story of the Chinese people in South East Asia to their Confucian traditions. The same idea was bounced around in Kuala Lumpur recently, when hundreds of the most successful Chinese businessmen from all over the world gathered here to share their experience and celebrate their common prosperity.

There is no doubt that the Chinese diaspora had been lucky to have brought their Confucian teaching with them wherever they were scattered. You could say that Confucianism is the closest thing to a religion that the Chinese will ever have.

In the early years of their settlement in Malaysia and elsewhere, their common cultural legacy bonded them into tightly-knit communities, in which they could expect mutual assistance for their individual and collective survival. Confucius' teaching on the supreme importance of family obligations, and his ethical emphasis on moderation in all things (the Doctrine of the Golden Mean), must have been instrumental in forging harmonious social relations among the early Chinese.

The early Chinese migrants were either illiterate or semi-literate. (My father was a teacher in China, and so was hugely respected by the local Chinese when he moved to Kuching before the War.) They might have been lost to gambling, opium smoking and clannish underworld activities in an alien hostile land, if not for Confucius' imperative on education.

The leitmotif of Confucian philosophy is an abiding respect for learning, and the importance of educating the young. The Great Sage himself was reputed to have 3000 students under his wing at the height of his teaching prowess. His ideal of the Superior Man is necessarily one of a compassionate engaged scholar, who embraces all the great qualities of humanity, living in harmony with his family and the rest of the universe.

Head start

Even when I was growing up in Kuching, the Chinese school teacher was always the most respected figure in our community. (One such teacher suggested my name to my parents when I was about to begin schooling.)

Thus, wherever the sea and the monsoon would take them, and having some employment as coarse labourers or petty traders, these early Chinese migrants would then build a temple to anchor their spiritual beliefs, form a guild or an association for mutual welfare, and establish a school.

General literacy gave the Chinese an early head start in the field of commerce and trade. More importantly, community-run education in their own Chinese language gave them a vehicle for the sustenance and evolution of a common identity, creating for these dislocated people a familiar comfortable universe in the unfamiliar world of their host country.

Nowadays, Malaysians tend to think of a language as a mere tool for communication, a skill to be mastered like typing or driving a car. In reality, however, any language is much more than an instrument. It is a living system of signs and symbols, with which the world is interpreted, and lives lived. Different languages are different universes.

Moreover, a language especially an ancient language like Chinese is also a vast depository of all the collective memory of a people. It is a trove of literary treasures, from which an individual can derive meaning for his existence by revisiting and reliving the myths, legends, philosophies, history and the genealogy of his very being. In this sense, a language forms the quintessential element of an ethnic identity.

In short, in Malaysia at least, Chinese education is the bedrock upon which the imagined structure of the Chinese self-consciousness is nurtured. Chinese literacy has continued to support the survival of countless Chinese newspapers, added new blood to the powerful guilds and associations, and fuelled the growth of the Chinese business community.

With their ethnic identity and their socio-economic survival at stake, it is no wonder that Chinese education has always been top on the political agenda of the Chinese community before and since Merdeka. In short, the Chinese want a fair deal for their Chinese education. Political leaders in this country may ignore this deep-seated aspiration of the Chinese only at their own perils.

Ideological catchphrase

Whether the insistence of the Chinese on their ethnic identity is detrimental to the forging of national unity in Malaysia or not, is an old debate. My view is that it does not have to be, because of my doubts about the nature of the modern nation-state. But the issue requires treatment elsewhere.

My point is, Chinese culture being imbibed with Confucian values as it is, Confucius' teaching does seem to have contributed to the survival of the Chinese people in Malaysia.

But the corpus of Confucius' philosophical thoughts is so vast, and the development of his teaching by subsequent scholars over a long span of over two millennia so varied, that today there is no one Confucianism, but many Confucianims.

To add to this confusion, there is the dangerous tendency by political and business leaders to use the term "Confucianism" as an ideological catchphrase under which all things Chinese are lumped together.

Therefore, while some distinguished Chinese business leaders in Malaysia are talking about the emergence of a new class of "Confucian businessmen", I am not convinced that the obsessive pursuit of profit and the accumulation of wealth fit very well with the original ideals of the Old Sage himself.

We have to bear in mind that Confucius lived and worked in a feudal and agrarian society very very long ago in another country. While his greatness means that much of his reflection on human nature and the nature of human society will always be relevant in today's world, to adopt his system of thought in its entirety and to apply it to the Chinese society is bound to create glaring contradictions and ludicrous anachronism.

Take the Chinese aspiration to be towkays for instance. In the original Confucian system of the ideal social hierarchy, traders sit at the bottom of the social ladder, even below the rank of the humble peasants and labourers. At the apex of this structure, the mandarin-scholar presides over the masses, by virtue of their learning and their personal achievement in affairs of state.

From the mountains of Chinese literary works which are the pride and soul of the Chinese people, nowhere is the businessman held up as a role model for the general citizenry. More than likely, the Chinese businessman is depicted as the distasteful uncultured greedy corrupt man, whose vanity often drives him towards the purchase of official positions to lend credence to his ill-gotten wealth.

Superior men

On the other hand, the gentleman-scholar (sometimes in the person of a real heroic general) is always concerned about the welfare of his people. He is prepared to sacrifice his life in his service to King and country, and if he is sidelined at the Royal Court, he can always retire to the serenity of his rural retreat, there to compose beautiful poems and contemplate the tragic nature of human existence. Perish the thought that he should take up board membership in public listed companies!

In sharp contrast to this Confucian ideal, the highest accolade you can pile on a Malaysian Chinese businessman today is to call him a towkay. It does not matter that not too many Chinese can be towkays. More than likely, a Chinese you meet on the street is working for a towkay for a monthly wage.

But the common aspiration to be a towkay someday is indicative of the metamorphosis that the Chinese culture has undergone when it has been transplanted and developed in Malaysia.

Which Chinese parents in Malaysia today would want their children to be the Confucian archetype of the refined learned gentlemanly scholar? There is simply no money in it.

The towkays the big ones, with a string of titles before their name have come to monopolise all the power and prestige of shakers of the earth and shapers of public opinions in the Chinese community. They have evolved into the new Superior Men.

Today, most, if not all, of the over 5000 Chinese guilds and associations are led by towkays. They sit on the boards of management in most Chinese primary and secondary schools. They own all the Chinese newspapers.

They contribute the most to temples and religious functions. They also form the backbone of support for the Chinese component parties in the ruling Barisan National.

Herein dwells the Chinese contradiction. Their need to assert their identity has driven them backward to seek revitalisation of their ancient Confucian ethics. Yet, many values of their business practices are antithetical to the true spirit of Confucian teaching.

Self-preservation

Today, the pervasive belief in towkayism clogging the mind of many Chinese people has come to symbolise the values of an immigrant mercantile culture. In the past two decades or so, I have watched in horror how many idealistic eager Chinese youths have turned into prosperous but self-serving, calculating, grasping, hedonistic, opportunistic, Philistine and superficial businessmen.

Self-preservation has taken over from the Confucian ideal of concern for the community and the world at large. Getting ahead in life is more important than being good citizens. Political apathy is on the rise among the current generation of Chinese youths.

Ultimately, a community so dependent on commerce for survival will tend to be anti-intellectual. The enlightened Chinese intelligentsia has slowly sunk into a moribund state.

The Chinese language, of which the Chinese are so proud, seems to have lost its magic appeal, because most Chinese do not read Chinese books anymore. Learning is reduced to the tedium of passing examinations, and chasing after paper qualifications.

The Chinese in Malaysia badly needs a process of spiritual and intellectual renewal. A reversion to the study of Confucius is not the answer. If Confucius were alive and living in Kuala Lumpur today, he will have to sell insurance for a living.

Perhaps, a good start is for young Chinese Malaysians to say to themselves in their heart: I do not want to be a towkay.