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In Sabah, stateless children are learning; even if the state pretends they don't exist — Delpedro Marhaen
In Sabah, stateless children are learning; even if the state pretends they don't exist — Delpedro Marhaen

Malay Mail

time2 days ago

  • Politics
  • Malay Mail

In Sabah, stateless children are learning; even if the state pretends they don't exist — Delpedro Marhaen

AUGUST 16 — In Teluk Layang, Kota Kinabalu, there is a school with no flag, no ministry signboard, and no official status. You won't find it on any government list of educational institutions. It stands quietly behind Universiti Malaysia Sabah — a modest wooden structure with half-open walls, open to the wind and the salt of the sea. On some afternoons, you can hear the sound of children reciting poetry, their voices competing with the roar of the waves. These are not just any children. In the eyes of the Malaysian state, they are invisible. They are stateless. Their parents came from the southern Philippines or Indonesia decades ago, fleeing conflict, poverty, or persecution. Many have lived here for four generations. But without citizenship papers, their children inherit the same legal limbo — no MyKad, no birth certificate, no rights to basic services. No school will take them. The Teluk Layang Alternative School exists for these children. And it is not alone — similar schools operate in Tawau and Sampoerna. Together, they serve more than 150 stateless children, offering the one thing the state has denied them: an education. But this is not a government project. The teachers here are not civil servants. They are students, activists, and workers who believe education is a right, not a privilege to be rationed out by bureaucrats. A courier. A t-shirt printer. A junior high school graduate. For almost a decade, they have shown up every day, unpaid, to teach in classrooms without desks or chairs. The curriculum is broader than you might expect. Reading, writing, and arithmetic are just the beginning. The children also learn farming, sewing, cooking, health and safety, and self-reliance. They discuss how to protect themselves from workplace exploitation, child marriage, and abuse — because for the stateless, these are not abstract dangers but daily realities. The philosophy here draws from Paulo Freire's Pedagogy of the Oppressed: education as a tool for liberation, a way to build critical thinking and resistance against injustice. In this school, the act of learning is also the act of claiming a place in the world. Some of the best proof of its impact comes from its own alumni. Niko and Damal, once students here, returned years later as teachers. Others have gone on to start community projects or win grants to serve their neighbourhoods. Many have broken free from destructive habits like glue-sniffing — a common escape in communities with no safe spaces for youth. Sabah's stateless crisis is neither small nor new. Suhakam estimates between half a million and one million stateless children live here. Unicef reports tens of thousands are entirely excluded from formal schooling. History explains some of it — the nomadic Bajau Laut existed long before Malaysia's borders, the Moro conflict sent waves of refugees across the sea, and political manoeuvres like the 'IC Project' deepened the documentation gap. But history is not an excuse for inaction. The teachers here are not civil servants. They are students, activists, and workers who believe education is a right, not a privilege to be rationed out by bureaucrats. — Freepik pic Instead of offering solutions, policy often paints these communities as a 'security threat'. The irony is stark: it is the denial of education, not the granting of it, that truly threatens security. A generation left uneducated is a generation locked out of opportunity — more vulnerable to exploitation, crime, and despair. The alternative schools show another way. They prove that citizenship is not just a legal status printed on a card. It is a lived practice — something you can enact daily through participation, solidarity, and shared responsibility. But they also remind us how fragile such grassroots efforts can be. Without legal recognition or stable funding, these schools survive on donations and sheer determination, all while facing the constant threat of eviction in the name of 'development' or tourism. If you visit Teluk Layang, you might be tempted to see it as a story of charity. But this is not charity. It is justice in action. It is a community filling the gap left by a state that has turned away. And here is the uncomfortable truth: education should never depend on whether a child has the right papers. The right to learn should be unconditional. The state's duty is not optional. Sabah's stateless children are not 'problems' to be solved or 'threats' to be contained. They are young people with talents, dreams, and a right to exist. Every day, in classrooms without flags, they are proving they are worth investing in. The question is not whether they can succeed — they already are. The question is whether Malaysia will finally choose to see them. * Delpedro Marhaen is the executive driector of Lokataru Foundation. ** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.

Stateless man of Japanese descent in Philippines eager for Japan citizenship
Stateless man of Japanese descent in Philippines eager for Japan citizenship

Japan Times

time3 days ago

  • Politics
  • Japan Times

Stateless man of Japanese descent in Philippines eager for Japan citizenship

Jose Takei, an 82-year-old man of Japanese descent in the Philippines who became stateless after being left in the Southeast Asian nation following the end of World War II, is keen to get Japanese citizenship while he is in good health. Earlier this month, almost 80 years after the end of the war, Takei came to Japan for the first time, with the support of Japan's Foreign Ministry. He met with his relatives in the city of Kawachinagano in Osaka Prefecture last Wednesday. During the visit, he also filed an application for Japanese nationality with the Tokyo Family Court. Takei was born in May 1943 to a Japanese man who was an employee of the Philippines' national railway company and an unmarried Filipino woman. His father left the family just before he was born to join the Japanese military during the war. A reference check with Japan's welfare ministry in 2009 found that the father returned to Japan at the end of the war. Before the war, many Japanese nationals moved overseas at the request of the government, including about 30,000 to the Philippines. Some of them married local women. Japanese men were recruited locally by the Japanese military once the war started. Some of them died fighting in the war while others were separated from their families as they were deported back to Japan from internment camps. Many of the people of Japanese descent who lost their Japanese fathers were left in the countries where they were born and faced persecution for the wartime invasion by Japan. Under such circumstances, they were left with no choice but to conceal their real names and the fact that they are of Japanese descent. In the Philippines, many of such people, including Takei, became stateless because the country's policy of determining nationality based on that of the person's father. According to the Japanese Foreign Ministry and the Philippine Nikkei-jin Legal Support Center, a nonprofit organization, Japanese descendants left in the Philippines number at least 3,800, including those who have died. Of these, more than 1,800 died without being able to get Japanese citizenship while some 50 people who are alive still hope to become Japanese nationals. The average age of survivors is 84. Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba met with Takei and two other Japanese descendants in the Philippines when he visited Manila in April this year. Ishiba promised to help them get Japanese nationality and visit Japan. The Foreign Ministry aims to continue supporting Japanese descendants' visits to the country.

Sarawak IT worker ends decades-long battle for Malaysian citizenship, tells other stateless to ‘not give up'
Sarawak IT worker ends decades-long battle for Malaysian citizenship, tells other stateless to ‘not give up'

Malay Mail

time09-08-2025

  • Politics
  • Malay Mail

Sarawak IT worker ends decades-long battle for Malaysian citizenship, tells other stateless to ‘not give up'

KUCHING, Aug 9 — After decades of trying and more than 20 applications, a man born stateless has finally been granted Malaysian citizenship, making the end of a long and difficult journey. At a press conference yesterday, Pending assemblywoman Violet Yong introduced 49-year-old Tan Tang Lung, who was born in Indonesia to a Sarawakian father and an Indonesian mother. Tan became stateless when his family relocated to Sarawak in the 1970s without complete documentation. 'From a stateless person to someone holding a red IC, and now finally a Malaysian citizen, this is truly happy news to share,' said Yong. She explained that Tan had to undergo multiple stages before he was eligible for citizenship, including applying for an entry permit, obtaining permanent residency through a red identity card, and eventually qualifying for a blue MyKad after holding permanent resident status for at least 10 years. According to Yong, Tan applied for citizenship three times. His first attempt was in 2012, submitted alongside his elder brother, who was approved the following year. However, Tan only received his approval in January 2025, more than a decade later. 'His sisters were granted citizenship back in 2010 and 2011,' Yong added. Following years of follow-up efforts by Yong and others, Tan received his 'surat keputusan' (approval letter) in January this year. He was issued the physical document in March, allowing him to apply for his Certificate of Malaysian Citizenship, which he received in July. Tan's citizenship was granted under Article 19(1) of the Federal Constitution, which applies to individuals aged 21 and above. Most citizenship applications reported in the media involve children and are filed under Article 15A. 'Mr Tan has been working as an IT personnel for many years. He is married to a Sarawakian and has two children, a 21-year-old son and an 18-year-old daughter,' Yong said. She also shared the persistent journey of assisting Tan through the lengthy and often frustrating process. 'Every time I received a message from Mr Tan on WhatsApp, I would think, 'How to help?' But I never gave up,' Yong said. 'I tried every possible way — whoever I could contact, ask, or follow up with. I did my best to help him. Now, with his Malaysian passport in hand, he is no longer stateless but a proud Malaysian citizen.' Tan expressed his gratitude to all those who supported him throughout the process. 'I want to thank YB Violet, YB Chong Chieng Jen, YB Kelvin Yii, and the Malaysian government for approving my citizenship after so many years of trying,' he said. Having submitted citizenship-related applications between 20 and 30 times over the years, Tan hopes his story will encourage others facing similar challenges. 'There are still many stateless people out there. I hope my story motivates them to keep fighting and not give up. Apply for your IC,' he urged. — The Borneo Post

Editorial: The slog of becoming a South African
Editorial: The slog of becoming a South African

Mail & Guardian

time08-08-2025

  • Politics
  • Mail & Guardian

Editorial: The slog of becoming a South African

Primrose Modisane, who was born in Zimbabwe, has battled to have her South African citizenship recognised despite being entitled to it by descent through her grandmother Primrose Modisane is, and has always been, a South African. She now has a birth certificate to prove it. Her story is sobering. Everyday acts of life that the rest of us take for granted were denied to her. She was unable to get a driver's licence, catch a plane, take a long bus ride, open a bank account or even register her daughter at school. But her wide smiles this week come from more than those avenues opening up. She now has her dignity. 'The way we were welcomed when we walked into home affairs,' she told our reporter, Sheree Bega. 'I can feel that I'm also important, that I have rights and that I'm also a human being.' There's irony in the idea that the stuffy home affairs department, a place most of us see as nothing more or less than a nuisance, holds supreme power over our lives. Our blasé attitude to that fact is a privilege. Modisane has been denied that privilege for 36 years — as have countless other 'stateless' people within our borders who are still languishing in that obscurity. For all the feel-good vibes of Modisane's outcome this week, it is infuriating to read about all she has gone through to get to this point. And how much of the needless toil she endured could have been avoided had she been dealt with by more conscientious bureaucrats. Home affairs has long been troubled. The media has widely covered its travails over the years. There have sporadically been spurts of much-publicised improvement, but ultimately it has failed to achieve universal recognition as efficient and inclusive. We have offered tentative praise to incumbent Minister Leon Schreiber during his first year in the job. His department's implemented reforms have, by many accounts, made home affairs offices more competent and cleared up the behind-doors backlogs that infected all systems around it. But it is clear that there is still much work before we can declare his tenure a success. And it will involve more than pedestrian resource management. Modisane put the issue succinctly: 'I don't think the problem is with the government, I think it's the people that we meet, the attitudes that we get from the people that are behind the desk.' South African public service has been bedeviled by apathetic officials. The rot is deep and contagious. The issue is compounded in home affairs offices where discrimination — much like the xenophobia we've seen manifested outside of our hospitals — is unashamed. Until a major cultural shift is undertaken, Primrose Modisane will not be the last person whom the system fails.

4 of Japanese descent in Philippines seek Japanese citizenship
4 of Japanese descent in Philippines seek Japanese citizenship

NHK

time06-08-2025

  • Politics
  • NHK

4 of Japanese descent in Philippines seek Japanese citizenship

Four people of Japanese descent who say they were left behind in the Philippines in the chaotic conclusion of World War Two have lodged citizenship claims with Japanese courts. Eighty years on from the end of the war, there are still about 50 such people in the Philippines pursuing citizenship claims in Japan. They say they were born to Japanese fathers who immigrated to the Philippines before the war and Filipino mothers, but remain stateless due to a lack of documents proving their fathers were Japanese citizens. A supporting group told reporters on Tuesday the four people, aged 79 to 82, have filed cases in family courts in Tokyo and Okinawa Prefecture, southern Japan. The group says it has assisted in conducting DNA analyses and gathering material to substantiate blood ties between each of the four and their fathers and other relatives. It says family courts have so far granted citizenship to 324 people of Japanese descent. Ishii Kyoko, the group's secretary general, says some people are still trying to determine the identity of their fathers, which makes it even harder to find proof of their Japanese lineage. She said the average age of people pursuing such claims is 83, so time is running out. One of the four plaintiffs, Takei Jose, is 82 years old. He is scheduled to visit Japan on Wednesday, with support from the Japanese Foreign Ministry. He will meet with relatives in Osaka, western Japan.

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