By Remy Majangkim (Majangkim Office)
KOTA KINABALU: There is a quiet war being fought on the island of Borneo. It is not a war of armies but of bulldozers against ancestral land, of legal technicalities against customary rights, and of political convenience against indigenous identity.
In the Limbang region of Sarawak, three native communities—the Penan, Kelabit and Lun Bawang—united for the first time in their history to fight a common enemy.
Their land, 32,000 hectares of pristine territory, had been secretly handed to a company owned by a prominent Chinese business family. They only discovered the extinction of their land when bulldozers arrived to log it.
This is not a story about race. It is about power, hunger and the contradictions of modern Malaysian politics. It forces a question no one in power wants to answer: If native land can be given to tycoons and tycoons can be given native status, what is a native anymore?
The Anatomy of a Grab: The Billion-Dollar Venture Case
The case is emblematic. A company was secretly awarded a licence to exploit NCR land belonging to three distinct tribal groups. The local people were not informed.
No compensation was negotiated. When the bulldozers finally arrived, the law of the statute of limitations became the tycoon’s strongest defence.
A lawyer representing the family was caught on video by Global Witness agreeing to pay the then‑Chief Minister Taib Mahmud 10% commission for the “favour”. When the native communities took the case to court, it was thrown out — not because the law was followed, but because the villagers had exceeded the 36‑month period for complaints.
They could not have known what the state had hidden from them. The law did not care.
The victims were Penan, Kelabit and Lun Bawang. The beneficiary was a Chinese business family. The facilitator was a state government that operated in secrecy, treating native communities as “squatters” on their own ancestral land.
The Reversal: Larry Sng and the Proposal to Expand “Native”
Fast forward to today. The same Sarawak that watched its native communities be dispossessed is now being asked to expand the definition of “native” to include third‑generation Chinese Sarawakians.
In March 2026, Julau MP Datuk Larry Sng gave an interview defending precisely that.
He said: “The Chinese in Julau have been here for generations. Their grandfathers are buried here. They speak Iban. They bleed for Sarawak. Why should they not be considered native?”
His argument is appealing on the surface: the Chinese have lived in Sarawak for over 150 years, served, fought and contributed to the economy. By 2026, DAP Sarawak likewise intensified its campaign, demanding the GPS government extend native status to all third‑generation Chinese and Indians born in the state.
But the proposal raises a question that cuts to the heart of native identity: what qualifies a community for native status? Is it length of residence? If so, why did the Penan and Kelabit who have lived on their lands for millennia have to fight in court not to be evicted by a family that arrived in the 19th century?
Native identity is not a reward for economic contribution. It is a legal category predicated on historical origin, customary law and the ongoing struggle to survive as an indigenous community.
Under the Federal Constitution and native interpretation ordinances, “native” remains tied to indigeneity — ancestry, lineage, and ties to the original peoples of the region.
Children of mixed marriages can now claim native status, which rectifies decades of exclusion. But that still recognises bloodline.
The proposal to grant native status to third‑generation Chinese with no native ancestry is a fundamental departure from this legal framework. It should not be disguised as a continuation of existing policy.
UNDRIP: The International Standard Malaysia Endorsed
Malaysia has endorsed the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). Article 1 affirms that indigenous peoples have the right to the full enjoyment of all human rights, as a collective or as individuals – including the right to remain distinct.
Expanding the legal definition of “native” to include non‑indigenous groups has alarmed indigenous rights defenders. The fear is not racism; it is that “native” will become a civil status rather than an indigenous right. Once everyone is a “native”, no one is truly indigenous. And the shrinking land base of already marginalised communities will face even more pressure.
The Call: Step Into the August House
All the analysis in the world means nothing without political power. The Sarawak State Legislative Assembly — the August House — has the authority to define who is native, to approve land grants, and to amend the Native Interpretation Ordinance.
For too long, that chamber has been filled with voices that are either silent on native land issues or actively complicit in the grabs.
The upcoming state election, which coincides with the general election, is the moment for natives to step into the august House — not as spectators, but as representatives.
The native communities must identify and vote for candidates who:
Have a proven record of defending NCR land, not just speaking about it.
Reject the expansion of “native” status as a political reward.
Demand a public inquiry into every past land grab, including the Billion Ventures case.
Commit to amending the law to remove the 36‑month statute of limitations for land claims.
This is an uphill battle. The machinery of money and political patronage is against them. But if natives do not step into the August House, others will step in for them — and the bulldozers will keep coming.
Voting the right people into the Sarawak State Legislative Assembly is not a suggestion. It is a necessity.
The Brother We Carry: A Path Forward
This is the dilemma. On one hand, the Chinese community’s long settlement and integration in Sarawak are undeniable. The vast majority are not tycoons — they are small shopkeepers, farmers, rubber tappers, teachers, and mechanics who have worked the land alongside their native neighbours for generations.
On the other hand, the native communities of Sarawak are the original peoples of the region. Their rights and identity are inherent. When a powerful family can be gifted ancestral land and then seek the same legal label as the people they displaced,
something is gravely wrong.
We need a politics that recognises these two truths. Perhaps the solution is not to grant “native status” as a political reward. Perhaps it is to create a new, inclusive category — “Sarawakian” — that confers equal citizenship rights without eroding the distinct legal protections of the Anak Negeri (native). True indigeneity is not for sale, nor should it be a bargaining chip.
But beyond laws and labels, there is a simpler truth:
Sabahan and Sarawakian Chinese need to recognise that the natives want to be left alone on their own land. Instead of land grabs perpetuated by greed and lasting wealth, why not look at it as coexistence? Helping each other out in our short span of life. That is the meaning of being a brother we carry in this world.
Conclusion
The rain has not stopped in Limbang. The courts have moved on to other profitable land grabs. But the question remains: who is a native? Is it the man whose family has lived in the longhouse for twenty generations, evicted by a licence printed in Kuching? Or is it the family who arrived in the 19th century, built a fortune on timber, and now seeks the same legal status?
We must carry our brother. But we must not carry him to the point that we squash the brother beneath our feet. We must walk together, side by side, without one climbing on the other’s back.
And the first step is to walk into the August House — not as visitors, but as elected voices of the native people.
