Today, Jan 23, marks the tenth anniversary of the passing of my grandfather, Syed Hussein Alatas. It’s hard to believe that 10 years have passed by so fast.

I was lucky enough to be at the receiving end of his wit, his wisdom, his sarcasm, and most importantly his concern for my intellectual development.

Here, I would like to indulge in an account of the intellectual and personal impact he left on me, even as I was a lost, 15-year- old boy trying to understand the lessons he sought to impart to me.

My grandfather was concerned about how I was developing myself intellectually from the time I was in primary school. Although he did tell me that it was important to study and do my best in exams, he emphasised that my learning outside of the classroom was important too.

He would often ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up; I don’t remember what I answered each time. At that time, however, I was interested in history. I enjoyed the lessons in school on the rise of Nazi Germany and WWII.

Reading my grandfather’s book on Sir Stamford Raffles did complement the history I was learning in school. During our secondary school years, we had been taught that he was the founder of Singapore. That was the dominant narrative in school, a narrative practically romanticised.

Reading my grandfather’s book made me question why Raffles was glorified so much. Not that he was a horrible man, but he involved himself in a lot of chicanery and ruses to achieve his political aims.

Suffice to say, reading this book was a turning point for me, in that it trained me to have a critical mind towards any historical phenomena.

I would be required to exercise this mind almost eight years later when I started university. It had been barely a month since I settled down and an image of grandfather’s book “The Myth of the Lazy Native” appeared on the screen in one of my Sociology lectures on race.

Emphasis on race

His book was used as an example to emphasise that race, as a supposedly biological attribute, could be incorporated into a colonial and capitalistic ideology so as to justify coercion over a group of people due to their perceived inferiority.

This emphasis on race as a social construct would encourage me to be critical of other social phenomena, such as gender relations, where gender as a social construct could be used to justify the perceived superiority of men over women.

Another one of his influential ideas was that of the “captive mind”. The “Captive mind” was a concept put forth to explain a kind of thinking dominated by Western thought patterns in an uncritical and imitative manner. Such a thinker lacked a creative and original mind.

This concept resonated with me in my class on social theory, where all the social thinkers taught to us were of European origin. It was difficult to understand why only such thinkers were held in high esteem, without understanding the notion of Eurocentrism, or the mode of thinking that only adopts European theories and concepts.

The concept of “captive mind” made me appreciate not only the works of Western scholars in my university education but that of non-Western scholars too.

Beyond books and knowledge though, my grandfather had a personal side to him, which was humourous and witty at times, serious at others. As any kid would (and should) agree, the holiday was the best reprieve one could get from the inevitable stress from exams and school in general.

Kuala Lumpur was that reprieve for me. I knew I could look forward to getting pampered in our home in Kuala Lumpur by my grandparents and aunty. My grandfather was the architect of his grandchildren's’ holiday plans. For example, he would see to it that there were enough eggs for our breakfast, Milo for our supper and so on.

Outings to shopping malls were mandatory. I have fond memories of Selayang Mall and IOI Mall, those places where he used to take us. And then there were the one-hour drives to Negeri Sembilan, where we would visit a family friend in Seremban. Sadly, it became more difficult to drive to Seremban in the final years of his life.

At home, though, I was guaranteed a performance of wit and sarcasm by my grandfather, whenever we were there. He was very particular about how I presented myself in the physical sense. I used to wear slightly long pants such that they would touch the floor when I walked around the house.

He would quip “are you sweeping the house for us?” To be honest, it took me a while to process the sarcasm as a young teenager. Another example was table manners. I would often eat in such a way that scraps of food would be scattered all over my plate. He gave a deadpan expression and uttered the six words (“only a dog eats like that”). That amused me, but made me take him seriously at the same time.

It has been 10 years since his passing, but I do still wish he could have seen me through my crucial years; my ‘O’ Levels, ‘A’ Levels, National Service and most importantly, university. I wonder what advice he would have given me, or what wisdom he would have imparted.

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