The Orang Asli, the original people of Malaysia, have been making the news lately because of both proposed government grants and the protests of the people themselves.

The Deputy Prime Minister of their country, Tan Sri Muhyiddin Yassin, announced nearly two weeks ago that the Malaysian states would begin giving land titles to Orang Asli households. He said that between 0.8 and 2.4 hectares would be awarded to each head of a household for agricultural purposes, plus about 5,000 square feet of land for their houses. “The land is given to the Orang Asli community in perpetuity and is part of efforts to take the community out of poverty,” he said.

Muhyiddin said that about 19,990 families would be given land, a number that represented 72 percent of the 27,841 Orang Asli families in Malaysia. The grants would include about 50,000 total hectares.

The Deputy Prime Minister indicated that certain conditions will be attached to the grants. The lands will only be given to heads of households, as defined by Section 3 of Act 134. News stories about the grants did not address the issue as to whether lands would be given to heads of households who happened to be women, much less households in societies such as the Batek, which are gender equal and don’t really have male heads. Furthermore, Muhyiddin said the land could not be leased out, rented, or mortgaged without the permission of the appropriate state government authorities. It could not be transferred for at least 15 years, and after that only to another Orang Asli.

He also said that, in order for the Orang Asli communities to be properly managed—at least in ways the government would approve—the land would first be developed for oil palms, rubber plantations, or other comparable cultivated crops before it was transferred. Apparently the desire of some Orang Asli families to continue living off the land using traditional harvesting, gathering, and hunting methods are not part of this latest scheme.

Last week, the Orang Asli themselves raised a fuss in the office of the Prime Minister with a petition asking that two more senators be appointed from their communities to the upper house of the national parliament, the Dewan Negara. Majid Suhut, president of the Orang Asli Association of Malaysia, argued that six senators could not effectively represent the views of the three different branches of Orang Asli societies—the Senoi, the Proto Malays, and the Negritos. “We have Orang Asli in every state (in Peninsular Malaysia) except in Penang and Perlis. We want a bigger voice,” he said.

Majid also asked that one of the six senators the government appoints should be axed. He said that Senator Mohamed Olain appears to represent the interests of UMNO, the United Malays National Organization, the largest political party in the country, of which he is a member. Majid said that his organization has no overt quarrel with the senator, but most of the Orang Asli have never heard from him and he does not seem to represent his constituency.

Six senators have been appointed by the government from the ranks of the Orang Asli societies since 1957. Only two of them have been non-Muslims, and one of those subsequently converted to Islam. Senator Itam Wali Nawan, a Semai, is the only one who remains outside the fold of the state religion.

Photographs of starving Inuit people, taken during an Arctic famine in 1950, are among the highlights of an exhibition that is currently being shown at the Winnipeg Art Gallery.

Richard Harrington, a Canadian commercial photographer and photojournalist, made six trips to the Arctic between 1948 and 1953, but it was his 1950 visit, when he took dramatic photos of people starving due to a famine, that became famous. Caribou herds did not follow their normal migration patterns, and the people living out on the land began to starve as a result. Harrington took some photos of people who died shortly afterwards.

He visited one destitute home on February 8, 1950, and recorded the experience in his journal: “Came upon the tiniest igloo yet. Outside lay a single, mangy dog, motionless, starving … Inside, a small woman in clumsy clothes, large hood, with baby. She sat in darkness, without heat. She speaks to me. I believe she said they were starving. We left some tea, matches, kerosene, biscuits. And went on.”

A few days later he took a picture of another starving Inuit mother dressed in shabby clothes and clearly quite malnourished, with her nose and lips pressed up to her little child. The image became justly famous. When he returned south to Churchill, he raised an alarm about the famine, which helped focus the attention of Canadians on the situation.

The fact that widespread starvation stalked their land as recently as the 1950s is not well understood by many Canadians. Frank Tester, a scholar of Arctic studies at the University of British Columbia, said about Canadians, “we have an image of this country that excises this period altogether.”

Tester is quite impressed with Harrington’s Inuit photos and the exhibition at the WAG. “It’s a window into people who made their own meaning, who survived in a climate that was incredibly demanding,” he said. “The pictures portray a people with fundamental strength.”

Harrington’s photos have only been shown in museums a few times. His widow approached the WAG and showed her late husband’s work to curators Darlene Wight and Mary Reid. They were overwhelmed and became co-curators of the exhibition. “I was just absolutely blown away, not only by the quality of the photography, but also by the subject matter as well,” Ms. Reid said.

The exhibit includes photos by Harrington in addition to the ones taken during his trip in the winter of 1950, pictures that portray a time when the Inuit still subsisted effectively on the land. According to Wight, “These are very, very proud, striking images of a people that were not devastated. It’s really important for people to see (Inuit) pre-community life and how it was very arduous, but also how the people were very proud and had a good life.”

Harrington’s work was praised by the well-known photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson and was included in the 1955 show curated by Edward Steichen, Family of Man. The show at the Winnipeg Art Gallery opened on November 28 and will remain open until March 14, 2010, according to the WAG website. The website includes a few of Harrington’s images, including the famous photo of the Inuit woman with her lips touching those of her baby. It also announces two different talks at the museum by the curators, in January and February. Some sculptures by Inuit carver Charlie Sivuarapik, from the collections of the museum, are also included in the exhibition.

The Amish observe that technology exerts a powerful impact on human cultures, and they insist on controlling it in their own society so that it does not subvert their values. They feel that their culture, their religion, and their communities depend on understanding the potential relationships between technology and society—how each influences the other and how devices may hamper or strengthen their way of life.

Scholars have explored these ideas in numerous works, but a detailed article in a technology magazine gives an especially effective overview of the issues. The author, Jameson M. Wetmore, a faculty member at Arizona State University, believes that Amish concerns about technology fall into two major categories. One is that they want to prohibit the use of technologies that may have a negative impact on their values, yet they want to accept and use the ones that will strengthen what they believe in.

Secondly, they like to use technologies that confirm their identity and help maintain their distinctiveness from the mainstream society. Thus, they deliberately choose to retain technologies that make them seem different from most of their non-Amish, “English,” neighbors. The author explores each of these issues in some detail.

He points out that community is extremely important to the Amish. They insist on numerous rules that seek to maintain humility and reduce pride, important ingredients, as they see them, in maintaining their peaceful society. Even very modest technological devices such as buttons are seen, in some church districts, as signs of pride so they are forbidden. People have to use pins to keep their clothing together. Likewise, the Amish generally prefer to avoid being photographed, a technology that most outsiders view as quite neutral. The Amish feel that photographs might give an individual the sense of standing out from the rest of the community.

Until about 100 years ago, many rural Amish people used technologies that were quite comparable to their non-Amish neighbors. But beginning with the widespread acceptance of the automobile, then electricity, then home labor-saving tools, then communications devices, the Amish began to review quite carefully each new invention to decide what sort of impact it might have. They became suspicious about those that they felt could be disruptive. They started discussing the acceptance of each proposed technology in church council meetings.

As one church minister described a council meeting: “We try to find out how new ideas, inventions, or trends will affect us as a people, as a community, as a church. If they affect us adversely, we are wary (p.14).” They do not necessarily see any inherent worth in new technologies. Rather, they must be convinced that the proposed device will improve their society and its ethical and religious principles. They see the automobile in the English world as a symbol of pride, convenience, and power, all of which they reject as antithetical to the values they stand for.

They use technologies—or their absence—as fences to maintain barriers between themselves and the majority society. They also control the use of electricity to keep the mainstream society at arms length. While they see the automobile as potentially harmful, their use of horses and buggies remains a very distinctive marker of their own group.

Automobiles are a particularly important issue to them. They feel that their buggies are a social equalizer—they all go about the same speed, 10 or 12 miles per hour, and are relatively uniform in size and color. Automobiles allow individuals to show off for the neighbors, to excel over them, to show power and affluence, and to leave the community behind—all values that the Amish disavow. As one Amish man said, “Young people can just jump in the car and go to town and have a good time in it …. It destroys the family life at home (p.16).”

But they have adopted some technologies—they are willing to change, though only after careful deliberation. Amish businesses that run machines, such as carpentry shops, have adapted the tools they use to run on compressed air rather than electricity. Diesel engines power the compressed air systems. But they tend to keep power tools out of the home. As one minister commented, “so far no Amish person has ever figured out how to run a television with an air compressor (p.19).” They see televisions as particularly destructive—they would bring the mainstream world into their homes and would distract the people from their families and neighbors.

The author describes the ways that Amish keep telephones at arms length—by putting up phone booths near roads so they can make business calls when necessary but not be bothered by calls inside their homes when they are enjoying their family lives. Unfortunately, Wetmore does not cover the use of cell phones among the Amish, particularly in the Lancaster County settlement, where news stories indicate their numbers are increasing.

Wetmore concludes by considering the ways the Amish today are continuing to deal with the implications of changing technologies. Some districts are allowing the use of electrically powered tools, such as adding machines, which they feel are essential for their businesses. Electricity for those devices can be provided by inverters hooked up to diesel engines. But inverters pose a danger: that same electricity could also power a television set or a computer.

The Amish continue to carefully monitor all proposed changes. As one man said, “we realize … that the more modern equipment we have and the more mechanized we become, the more we are drawn into the swirl of the world, and away from the simplicity of Christ and our life in Him (p.21).”

Wetmore concludes that technology retains the potential to be a disruptive influence over the Amish. In essence, “the Amish exert control over technology in an effort to protect themselves from the values and distractions of the English world (p.21).”

Wetmore, Jameson M. 2007. “Amish Technology: Reinforcing Values and Building Community.” IEEE Technology and Society Magazine 26(2), Summer 2007: 10-21

The Chief Minister of Sikkim, Pawan Chamling, has suddenly become an open supporter of the natural environment. In the past, Mr. Chamling has staunchly defended the construction of large hydroelectric power dams for the Dzongu region of northwestern Sikkim, an area that is sacred to the Lepcha people. He sees these controversial dams as viable sources of revenue for his state that contribute to the development of India. He has strongly disagreed with Lepcha groups such as the Affected Citizens of Teesta (ACT), which are opposed to the dams.

On Friday last week, Chamling made a speech in which he described his commitment to the natural environment. He gave credit to the nature worshiping people of Sikkim—primarily the Lepcha—for the fact that their beliefs were responsible for the forest wealth of the state. He credited those people for their wise approach in trying to live with nature. “We are still working towards preservation of the forest wealth and protecting nature in many ways,” he said of his government.

He mentioned the importance of forests, waters, and animal life, but he also discussed environmental problems that seem to be arising. The Himalayan black bear has been moving into human habitats, which he says is a result of mismanagement and environmental imbalance. He committed his government to making sure that future roads in the state would be green and eco-friendly.

Chamling recently agreed to a temporary cessation of hostilities with ACT, which prompted that group to suspend its relay hunger strike until the government and the Lepcha representatives can see if they can work out compromise solutions to the issues that divide them. His attitudes may auger well for the upcoming negotiations.

A major nickel mining project proposed for the mountains of central Mindoro Island was suspended last Friday by the Environmental Secretary of the Philippines due to pressures from protesters. The huge mining operation, projected to cover 11,216.6 hectares, would have a direct impact on the traditional territories of a couple Mangyan societies on Mindoro, the Alangan and Tadyawan peoples, who live directly north of the Buid. The deposit of nickel, believed to be one of the largest in the world, would produce over 100 million tons of ore during a 15 to 20 year period of mining.

The project was formerly owned by Crew Gold, which separated out Crew Mining, subsequently Intex Resources, to develop the Mindoro deposit as its sole asset. A Mangyan representative expressed the opposition of his people to the project in 2007, and he secured a story in the Guardian newspaper about the issue. The opponents have not given up. In fact, the depth of the opposition on Mindoro has been overwhelming, despite the support of the national government, which wants to secure revenues from the development.

The province of Oriental Mindoro passed a moratorium on all large-scale mining in 2002, and 8 out of the 11 municipalities on Occidental Mindoro have also passed resolutions in opposition. About 9,720 hectares of the proposed mining site is located in critical watershed areas.

Despite the widespread opposition, on October 14, Joselito Atienza, Secretary of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources, issued an Environmental Clearance Certificate (ECC) clearing the way for the mining project to begin. He ignored the opposition of the communities, the province, and, of course, the indigenous people who would be most affected. The outcry in the Philippines has been strenuous.

Opponents maintained that the Minister not only ignored, illegally, the moratorium on mining enacted by Oriental Mindoro, but he also did not have the necessary documentation to prove that the mining would not affect a watershed. They charged that he also did not wait for the recommendations by an official EIA Review Committee before issuing his decision. Once the review committee issued its final report, not surprisingly, it recommended that the ECC should be denied.

On November 17, a Tuesday, 25 protesters from Mindoro, mostly Mangyans plus some religious people, environmentalists, and other Mindorenos, began a hunger strike outside Mr. Atienza’s office. The next day he withdrew the mining permit, and the protesters briefly suspended their hunger strike. But they quickly realized he had only issued the suspension for 90 days. They assumed it was a trick and resumed their strike.

Protests spread. In Rome, a small farmer from Mindoro, Jonjon Sarmiento, was attending a conference being held parallel to a general meeting of the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO). He decided to stage his own hunger strike in support of his colleagues in the Philippines. The owner of 0.044 hectares of land, Sarmiento said, “I am a farmer. I am a youth leader. I am here in Rome. So, I will join my town mates in their hunger strike…”

A congressman in the House of Representatives, Diogenes Osabel, urged that a probe be launched of the governmental ministries involved in making the decision. “What does DENR take the local leaders for, a nobody in their own territory?” he asked. “Is the DENR a broker for the mining firms instead of being a protector of the environment?” A reasonable question for environmental protection agencies worldwide.

Even the President of the Philippines, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo got into the act by wondering why the environmental minister had issued a permit when the provincial government and local governments on Mindoro had expressed their clear opposition. The president’s press secretary, Cerge Remonde, pointed out that the project would displace about 20,000 people, mostly Mangyans, and it would affect the water, agriculture, and forestry on the island, as well as an important tourist destination.

The Vice Governor of Oriental Mindoro, Estela Aceron, expressed her support for the protesters when they resumed their hunger strike. “We are reiterating our position that mining is not welcome in Mindoro. We expect Secretary Atienza to respect this,” she said. She added that he in effect admitted he had issued the permit in mid-October despite the fact that Intex had not as yet complied with the necessary requirements. She was dismayed that he had issued his order without consulting with any of the local communities or the province. She also said that she was upset by his order of November 18 suspending the ECC temporarily.

The hunger strikers in front of the environmental ministry began to be seriously affected by their lack of food. Over the weekend, two Mangyans were rushed to a hospital as they started to suffer from hypoglycemia. By Thursday of last week, a third protester was also taken to a hospital, ten days after the fast had started. He was having difficulty breathing. Four other protesters refused to go to hospitals.

By Friday last week, November 27, it was all over. Mr. Atienza caved in to the pressure. He temporarily revoked the permit, but without a time limit. He personally handed a copy of his order to the hunger strikers camped outside his office. The Minister admitted that there had been a lapse when the ECC was issued. He appeared to blame subordinate staffers for allowing the permit to be issued despite the fact that the mining proposal included land within a watershed area. They had misled him, he claimed. The reason the revocation is temporary, he said, is that he needs to await the results of an investigation he has initiated before making the cancellation final.

The protesters immediately suspended their news-making hunger strike, and various opposing officials, such as Vice Governor Aceron, issued statements of cautious optimism and thanks to the Minister for making the right decision.

The official chef for the parliamentary restaurant in Ottawa, Judson Simpson, has decided to advance the cause of Inuit culture, and the Canadian seal harvesting industry, by introducing seal meat to the menu. Michel Guimond, Bloc Quebecois MP, made the original suggestion that the restaurant should add seal as a show of support for the Inuit and the industry. The industry in particular is under attack by the European Union at the behest of animal rights groups.

The menu change had to be approved by an all party board that overseas the bylaws and budgets of the capitol complex. It remained just a suggestion, however, until the chef himself made the decision.

MPs from Newfoundland and Labrador, where seal harvesting is an important industry, applauded the chef’s decision. Gerald Keddy, a Conservative MP, said he has eaten seal meat numerous times. He is something of a connoisseur. “My preference is ringed seal out of the High Arctic. That is the tastiest of them all. Next to that, the grey seal is fine, not a thing wrong with that,” he said.

While the exclusive restaurant is only open to MPs, cabinet ministers, journalists, staff members, and their guests, the symbolism of the move is significant. It validates the human consumption of seal meat by Canadians. Last May, Canada’s Governor General, Michaelle Jean, referred to as “the badass Governor General,” provoked an international controversy when she ostentatiously ate some raw seal heart during a visit to an Inuit community in Nunuvut Territory. She was displaying her support for the Inuit culture, where hunting seals is an important part of their tradition. Seal meat is still included in the diet of the Arctic people.

Good’s Store in Quarryville, Pennsylvania, has been singled out by an irate customer for its refusal to stock American flags, in deference to the pacifist sentiments of its Amish and Mennonite customers. An AP dispatch last week indicated that the recent criticism was similar to the sentiments of patriots after 9/11, who criticized the store in downtown Quarryville, a town in rural Lancaster County southeast of Lancaster City, for not carrying flags.

Someone has dredged up the controversy once again by sending out a mass e-mail about the supposed hostility of the store to the flag. According to the anonymous e-mail, a young store clerk acted disdainfully when asked if the store carried flags. She supposedly said, “we don’t sell those here and we never will.” The writer urged a boycott of the store. Kenneth Burkholder, manager of the store, indicated that hundreds of stores catering to Amish and Mennonite customers also do not carry flags, which the Anabaptist peoples generally view as symbols of American military activities.

Burkholder could not find evidence that the exchange with a store clerk ever took place. He was concerned that the store never appear to be arrogant about its beliefs. He said the flag “means a lot of different things to different people.” He denied that the Anabaptist people are anti-American. They are grateful to live in a country that tolerates freedom of religion, and they don’t condemn others who buy and display flags. His company respects differing viewpoints, supports the communities in which their four stores are located, and pays its taxes.

The Amish, and the other Anabaptist groups, have always cherished the injunctions of Jesus to act nonviolently. Love and peace have been core beliefs for 500 years. Opposition to military violence is nothing new. The flag symbolizes an acceptance of fighting wars, which many of them do not accept. Their patriotism is based on the virtues of liberty and justice, rather than militarism and violence.

Detractors of the business argue that Good’s benefits from the activities of American troops, so they should salute the emblem of the country. “Cowards and hypocrites,” one opponent of the store’s anti-flag policy proclaimed. “They are so quick to condemn the U.S.A. and the military.”

Others have been equally vehement of the right of the store to sell whatever merchandise it chooses, precisely because America is supposedly a free country. One person wrote, “There are lots of people who would sell you a flag, who would also be tax cheats, sell you inferior goods, try to charge you unfairly, etc. With whom would you rather do business? An honest man who’s trying to live by his faith, or someone who will do anything for a buck?”

Burkholder said that the brouhaha is not going to affect the decision the 51 year old store has made to not carry flags. He concluded that he is getting tired of the controversy, and he wishes people would simply drop the subject.

Agence France-Presse released an article last week describing the way the people in one Semai village protect the rare Rafflesia plants so they can show them to ecotourists. The Semai living in the community of Ulu Geroh, in northern Perak state, have been featured in the news in 2005 and again in 2006 for their successful ecotourism business. Villagers were trained by the Malaysian Nature Society, with help from the government of the state, to be successful guides for tourists who want to see the rare flowers. Evidently their business continues to blossom.

Semai guides take visitors, who stay at a nearby nature lodge, along forest trails to see the flowers, which are only open for a few days before they fade, turn black, and rot. The guides will also take tourists to places where they may see the rare Rajah Brooke Birdwing butterflies, and to a nearby waterfall.

Long Kadak, a 51 year old woman, told the reporter that the Semai used to pick the Rafflesia buds and sell them to traders. They were used for medicinal preparations. “We took many, many sackfuls,” she said. But they don’t take any now because they realize they can make far more money by showing the flowers to tourists. When the Semai guides take their visitors to see the Rafflesia blossoms, they do not allow anyone to trample or harm the plants.

The attraction of the flowers is that they are the largest blossoms in the world. Some scientists disagree on the number of Rafflesia species, but most agree that there are 24 of them. The flowers of some of the species may measure over a meter across. Found in deep forest environments of Malaysia, Indonesia, Philippines, and Thailand, the Rafflesias are fragile parasites, without vines or leaves of their own, that grow on certain other plants. They are sometimes referred to as “corpse flowers” because, for a very short time, they emit strong, rotting-flesh, odors. The plants use the smell to attract carrion flies as pollinators. The blooms may be colored a mottled orange, pink, or red, depending on the species.

Other indigenous people in Southeast Asia have also been persuaded to preserve their nearby Rafflesia plants to show to tourists, but according to Abdul Latiff Mohamad, an expert on the subject, the Semai tourism project at Ulu Geroh is probably the most successful.

A woman’s casual complimentary remark, comparing the features of the president of Botswana to the Bushmen, recently landed her in jail for two days. Dorsey Dube, a South African woman, had been visiting Botswana with three friends, but just before they crossed back into their own country, she noticed a framed picture of President Ian Khama at the border check post. She tried to make a favorable comment about him by comparing him to a friend of her father’s, who evidently had features like a Bushman.

Her comment, that President Khama “looks like a Bushman,” may have been intended as a compliment but the Botswana border guards took it as an invidious comparison and an insult to the nation. They detained her for interrogation at a police station, refused to allow her to make any phone calls, and held her overnight in jail.

Reports of the situation at the end of last week provoked controversy in the southern African nation because the incident appeared to display racist, hostile attitudes toward their indigenous minority people, at least among authorities in the country. Botswana citizens are sensitive to the international condemnation of their government’s treatment of the G/wi and the other indigenous San people who have been expelled from their homes in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve. The San have been persecuted in recent years for wanting to live in their homes in the desert, desires that the government has tried in every way to thwart.

As it so often does, the British NGO Survival International weighed in on the controversy, condemning what it saw as another incident that displayed racist attitudes in the government toward their minority citizens. Stephen Corry, SI Director, describing what happened as tragic, said, “you couldn’t have clearer evidence of the racism towards Bushmen in Botswana than this incident.”

A recent Reuters dispatch provides a brief update about the Batek, a peaceful society that still manages to hold on to its nomadic ways despite encroachments by outsiders. Major challenges faced by the Batek, according to the article, are development and deforestation. However, the Batek may soon have no other option than to abandon a wandering, gathering, fishing, and hunting subsistence lifestyle.

Hamdan Keladi, a headman of one Batek band, told the reporter, “we are just guardians of the forest and we cannot take more than we need. But town people come here and take everything like the trees and pollute the river with development, so I don’t know how long we can continue to roam the forests.”

The 30 families in the band that he leads are now living just outside the Kuala Koh National Park in Kelantan state, where they have cleared the land for a more permanent village. The reporter describes village houses with their thatched roofs, children playing in the clearing, and men heading into the forest to hunt with their blowpipes and machetes. There are about 1,000 Batek in northern Malaysia.

But the buffer zone forests around the national park are threatened by a logging proposal, now under consideration by the state government. If allowed, the logging would add silt to the rivers of the region and might affect the Batek.

The reporter considers the efforts by the state government to educate the Batek children, who are encouraged to attend a boarding school a couple hours drive from Hamdan’s village. The ones that do go are teased by the other children because they look different. The Batek are one of the Negrito groups, people who are smaller than the Malays with more wiry hair.

Ani, a Batek mother of three, said she only plans to send her first son to school. The children who do go to school, she said, “are always homesick and get teased because they don’t look like the other children, and because some enter school late and cannot read as well as the others.”

Hamdan, the headman, is accorded the title “Tok Batin,” which can be translated as “spiritual elder,” according to the article. He is especially knowledgeable about the traditions of his community. Julio Edo, a Semai who became an anthropologist at the University of Malaya, believes that it is essential for the Orang Asli (original peoples) of the country to continue to have their own leaders, who will preserve the indigenous knowledge of their groups.

Hamdan is conscious of the fact that 10 other nomadic Batek bands are aware that his group has settled into a village situation. “Most of the others are still in the forest, watching us to see whether it’s worth it for them to join us,” he said.