COMMENT Any conflict can be spiced up further simply by invoking the preposterous threat of the ‘foreigner’.

A few days ago, ‘foreign journalists’ Jules Ong and Chi Too were handcuffed for documenting the plight of the Orang Asli in Kelantan. Yet, both are legitimately Malaysians employed by the Singapore-based media corporation Channel News Asia.

A few weeks ago, as the Forest City project set off heated bickering between former prime minister Dr Mahathir Mohamad and the Johor Sultan, another ‘foreigner’ got embroiled into our national affairs. They are the Chinese nationals typically blamed for stealing the domestic economic pie. Yet, they are not unlike the many Malaysians who travel afar to Singapore and Australia in search for better economic prospects.

About a year ago, in the name of culture and authenticity, ‘foreign’ cooks in Penang, most of whom were Bangladeshis, were banned from cooking local food in hawker stalls. Yet, a glimpse into Penang’s culinary history reveals the diversity of ingredients and cooking methods - most of which were once ‘foreign’ - that had enriched its gastronomic palette.

These examples differ radically in context. But a consistent trope resonates throughout: for every impending predicament, the threatening ‘foreigner’ can be summoned to raise fear among us. Like a spell, every mention of ‘foreigner’ drugs us into an unthinking human. Often, we surrender our empathy too easily to xenophobic alarmism.

Juxtaposing these three starkly incommensurate examples offers a fruitful critique. The first instance brings to mind a Mahathirist flavour of ‘Westoxification’, whereas both the Forest City and Penang incidents have without restraint spurred xenophobic reactions against Chinese and Bangladeshi nationals.

In Malaysia, there is a flagrant disregard to the politics that underpins the discourse of ‘foreigner’. The real threat, nonetheless, lies not in the foreigners, but in the precondition that necessitates the distinction of the ‘foreign’ figure.

The ‘foreign’ journalists in our first example is emblematic of the precondition. Any criticism can be dismissed simply by slapping the label ‘foreign’ on the critics. This example exposes us to a sovereign power who is capable of delimiting our political subjectivity, if not our political citizenship. For at any moment, our nationality can be deracinated and compromised should the authority chooses to do so.

By hook or by crook, ‘local’ activists can be made ‘foreign’ by expulsion, and at times, being denied entry to certain places of her/his own country.

However ideologically distinctive the three cases appear, they remain united in the abuse of the term ‘foreigner’. Be it the Kelantan Forestry Department, Mahathir, or Penang Chief Minister Lim Guan Eng, they are agreeable in the categorical use of the ‘foreigner’ as ‘non-Malaysian’. Political affiliation matters little.

Succumbing to xenophobia too willingly

But as we welcome their fearmongering, as we spit out our xenophobic invectives against the West, against Bangladeshis or Chinese nationals, we commit a false identification by assuming the foreigners as our ultimate antagonist. We succumb to xenophobia too willingly.

Firstly, xenophobia operates by conflating two disparate categories: ‘people’ and ‘nation-state’. We assume that one acts for the other, that one represents the other. Secondly, upon subsuming ‘people’ under ‘nation-state’, we deprive the former of agency to act on behalf of themselves, to exercise discretion without reference to national priorities.

It is more convenient to be at ease with the argument that, people of a particular nationality is of a particular character. And whatever distinction we attribute to this ‘foreign’ and ‘national’ character, one thing remains the same is their persistent bitterness against ‘us’, the locals: the West is hostile to local traditions; Chinese nationals are disruptive to local economies; Bangladeshis are a threat to local authenticities.

The sense of bitterness ascribed to these foreigners is unfounded. To even acknowledge ‘foreigner’ as a political category is strictly de-humanising. We must cease equating the ‘people’ of a particular locality, to the ‘nation-state’ of that locality. ‘People’ and ‘nation-state’ need to be decoupled. The people as a standalone category is imbued with an irreducible diversity unlike the homogenising structure of a nation-state.

In disregarding the antagonism that stands in between ‘people’ and ‘nation-state’, we resign ourselves to bigotry.

Additionally, if we, as ‘Malaysians’, could harbour dissatisfaction to ‘Malaysia’ as a regime of power, it is likewise probable to consider how ‘foreigners’ are not organically tied to a ‘foreign’ nation-state. We forget how people express discontent towards their governments. We forget how governments endeavour to contain, control, and suppress their recalcitrant subjects.

And yet, instead of standing in solidarity for our shared precarity that traverses national boundaries, we antagonise the ‘foreigners’ as if they were the source of all local hardship.

‘Foreigner’ is never a neutral signifier. Whenever uttered, it is a cunning attempt to belittle one’s agency. As a discourse of power, ‘foreigner’ hierarchies and marginalises those considered to be outsiders.

We need to identify the real antagonist. The foreigners are not it. It is the one who labels them ‘foreign’ (who is also capable of making us ‘foreign’ if it requires), the one who holds the absolute right to determine who is foreign or otherwise, that we should identify as our enemy.

TAN ZI HAO is a postgraduate student in the Department of South-East Asian Studies, National University of Singapore. He is also a conceptual artist whose artworks can be viewed at www.tanzihao.net. As both artist and writer, he is interested in the arts, language, cultural politics and mobilities.

The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of Malaysiakini.