EVERYWHERE in the world where indigenous people thrive, whether they are Native Americans, Aboriginal Australians or Orang Asli, they have a common grievance that still stirs, even after five centuries.
They have been abused, deprived, neglected, robbed and killed, from the moment Western European aggressors besieged their ancestral lands. Indigenous people are easily manhandled because of their serene nature and spiritual devotion to their land.
Unable and unwilling to emulate Western modernisation, indigenous people's short lifespans, impoverishment and malnutrition have been used as shields against climate crisis and environmental degradation, an unforgiving situation capitalised by greedy governments and developers. As landlessness and displacement make them vulnerable, indigenous people tend to make up prison numbers, illiteracy and the unemployed.
All told, 476 million indigenous people worldwide in 90 countries make up 6.2 per cent of the global population. We're familiar with indigenous people's quandary. Malaysia is no different, but how do we address it? There's hope. We have another shot at amending the Aboriginal Peoples Act 1954.
The proposed amendment promises the Orang Asli constitutional muscle, provided it's passed by two-thirds of parliamentarians because it affects customary lands, territories and resources. Meaning, they can decide how their land and traditions are exploited or preserved.
While hopeful, the proposal had been lingering since 2019 and if the projection is on schedule, it'll clear all bureaucratic hurdles by 2027. It does provide ample time to consult the Orang Asli and state governments, the touchiest parties in this contention because land, especially Orang Asli territory, is a state specialty.
Land grabbing, however, is still a mess that deals with inadequate engagement or ends with woeful to zero compensation for the Orang Asli. A clear example: only a 2023 Court of Appeal order compelled the Johor government to give monetary compensation and support resettlement of 135 Seletar families whose land were "sold" to developers.
In the meantime, expect similar reruns for this enduring episode: Sarawakian Penan defying bulldozers to defend their land. While lawmakers mull over the proposed amendments, the Orang Asli will receive no official support to continue battling for their lives, defending their ancestral homes, burial grounds and way of life.
But this time they'll be harder to kick aside: they have made full use of police reports against interlopers and have a tendency to win court settlements.
State governments and developers are forewarned: deal with the Orang Asli's homeland equitably and humanely, or face their wrath.
