Introduction: Occidentalism in Asian Lore

Since the late 1970s, a lot of ink has been spilled over Orientalism in the sense of stylized Western images of the East. In the famous analysis of Edward Said, Orientalism becomes the fantasized abode of a set of cultural essences, such as despotism, lasciviousness, depravity, fanaticism, and immutability. The Orient, in this model, becomes the Other, an entity fundamentally different from the ostensibly rational and civilized West. All this links to an intellectual genealogy that is reified through the Western knowledge production. In essence, the Western views of the East are conditioned by a will to maintain authority over the Other and are therefore intimately tied to the colonial and neo-colonial projects (Said 1978). The analysis of Said and later postcolonial scholarship has in turn been criticized for being too generalizing and essentializing. Some of this critique is no doubt valid, though the Said thesis is still interesting for pointing out the close relation between claims of power and intellectual knowledge (Hamidi 2013).

The silent partner of this is, consequently, Occidentalism, meaning stylized images of the West. There may be two sides to this. Western writers over the centuries, who construct essentializing images of non-Western cultures, necessarily juxtapose the features of Chinese, Indian, or Islamic civilization with their own norms of normality. This is done either explicitly or tacitly. Orientalism is therefore generally paired with an unsaid and positively laden Occidentalism (Carrier 1995, 2–4). However, there is another and more anthropological side to it. Peoples outside the Western world are no less keen to define their own cultural specifics than are Europeans, Americans, and Australians. While terms such as nation and culture may not always translate easily into non-Western languages, expressions of self-identity are omnipresent as social strategies. In such expressions, the awareness of other cultures, especially when somehow menacing or competing, will likely lead to a juxtaposition. Anthropological research indicates that awareness of assertive Western culture may reinforce certain indigenous customs in order to highlight the distinction (Carrier 1995, 6–8).

The question is, nevertheless, whether Occidentalism can function the way that Orientalism does according to the Said thesis. The crux of it is the unbalanced power relations that have supposedly favored Western hegemonic claims for hundreds of years. The global presence of Western-derived culture, values, technology, and institutions has certainly enticed non-Western cultures to launch a set of counter-discourses. Some of these are quite belligerent and essentialize the West as the perennial bogeyman (Buruma and Margalit 2004). But can this, in the end, parallel Western Orientalism? Despite the best efforts of Chinese, Arabic, and Indian leaders and intellectuals, a similar positional superiority vis-à-vis the West might be difficult to maintain—at least if we talk about the world that was transformed by imperialism in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

With all this in mind, it may still be worth the effort to analyze the features of Occidentalism in a historical region with long experience with Western influences. How were stylized images of Europeans constructed and juxtaposed to regional cultural values? The choice here is Southeast Asia, a region characterized by tropical and subtropical climate, early written cultures, the presence of important trading networks, and the influx of all world religions over the centuries. Europeans are known here since the early years of the sixteenth century, which suggests the question of how they are portrayed in works of art, literature, and history writing. For a brief chapter, the study can only be exploratory. My material is an array of chronicles and historical and legendary traditions, authored in the course of more than 400 years. While by no means exhaustive, the essay will exemplify the type of imaginations of Europeans in the eyes of Southeast Asian observers. In particular, I highlight the inclusion of Europeans in legendary and even fantastic contexts, overlapping what is termed “speculative fiction” elsewhere in this volume. This device will allow us to study the processes of stereotyping more clearly, as the authors are not restricted by exact historical accuracy and the images of the Western Other are rounded out using the author’s imagination.

Europeans in Southeast Asia

Southeast Asia constitutes a subcontinent and an island world with many hundreds of languages and cultures. It is often defined in terms of external influences over the millennia, since it was an early cultural and commercial crossroads. Chinese culture imprinted parts of Vietnam, Indian Hindu culture pervaded most of mainland and part of insular Southeast Asia and later gave way to Buddhist influences, while much of the maritime world was converted to Islam. All these influences tended to be adapted to a local context that allowed for the perseverance of local beliefs and customs (Andaya and Andaya 2015, 53). While it is difficult to pinpoint a unanimous Southeast Asian identity, the mostly tropical and monsoon-dependent climate combined with the reliance on wet rice cultivation and the extraction of forest products in the main historical regions gave the area certain characteristics that set it apart from the South and East Asian cultures. Contacts between Southeast Asians and Europeans were almost nonexistent until the early sixteenth century. Nevertheless, Southeast Asia was among the very earliest regions in Asia to be subjected to colonial rule. The Portuguese established themselves in the Melaka Peninsula after 1511 and the Moluccas after c. 1522. The Spanish arrived in the Philippines in 1565 and the Dutch began to acquire outposts in the Indonesian Archipelago after 1605 (Andaya and Andaya 2015, 134, 159, 166; Tarling 1999, 10, 73, 184–5). Much of the early-modern colonial enterprise was directed at the securing of trade routes and monopolies, as the European seafarers were attracted by profits in spices, textiles, and later cash crops such as coffee. The large wave of colonial conquest, however, occurred during the nineteenth century when all of Southeast Asia with the exception of Siam fell under European or American rule. European ships and violent interventions were therefore a menacing reality for several hundred years.

The Europeans were intruders but also a source of power and wealth, and therefore potential allies or protectors. The history of what is today Indonesia, Malaysia, and Timor-Leste is filled with attempts by local groups to win the dangerous and potent foreigners to their side to fight local enemies. On the mainland, kings and pretenders used European mercenaries and adventurers to advance their interests. The well-known Burmese kings Tabinshwehti and Bayinnaung made good use of Portuguese soldiers in the sixteenth century (Harvey 1925, 155, 162). Spanish and Portuguese adventurers briefly set themselves up as kingmakers in Cambodia in the 1590s. French mercenaries helped establishing the Nguyen Dynasty in Vietnam around 1800. Europeans could also serve as valued councillors, such as the Greek-born Constance Phaulcon in Siam in the seventeenth century (Tarling 1999, 79, 101, 245). Last but not least, the commercial capabilities of European trading organizations made the white foreigners indispensable in many places.

General Ideas About the White Foreigners

Some trends in early Southeast Asian images of Europeans have been traced by Anthony Reid. As he notes, Southeast Asia had received faraway foreigners for over a thousand years when the Europeans arrived. Although their white skin might have evoked some curiosity, their physical features were not much different from people from West Asia—Persians and Arabs were at least semi-regular visitors in the Middle Ages. According to early reports of the encounter, the Portuguese were characterized as “White Bengalis” or “White Indians” and were likened to the fair-skinned seafarers from the Ryukyu Islands (Brown 1970, 151; Reid 1994). Large ships and artillery were no news for the Southeast Asians. What set them apart was rather the aggressive means they used to acquire bases and monopolies. Cannons were used much more efficiently than in the Southeast Asian kingdoms that they encountered, and the business-like agenda of the East India Companies was far more comprehensive than local commercial organizations.

The Westerners’ general behavior is often commented upon. A famous but perhaps apocryphal story in the Sejarah Melayu (1612) tells how a Portuguese fleet officer in 1509 hung a golden chain around the neck of the chief minister of the Melaka Sultanate, thus provoking the anger of the bystanders for his rudeness, although hostilities were avoided for the time being (Reid 1994, 275). The Ambonese chronicle Hikayat Tanah Hitu (c. 1650) relates how the locals at first welcomed the Portuguese to their island in the Moluccas in the early sixteenth century, but that incident soon occurred: “It once happened that they got drunk and then went to the market to plunder and caused upheaval.” The whites were therefore banished to another village where people were not Muslims and kept alcoholic drinks. “After some time there arose trouble, and they fought against them. They attacked each other, they won over each other, and it appeared as if the holy war had no end … The sound of their weapons can be likened to the thunder from heaven” (Manusama 1977, 92–3).

The royal chronicles of Cambodia contain a few episodes featuring Europeans. These chronicles were embellished over time, though ultimately referring to historical figures (at least after 1500). King Ponhea To had a short and turbulent reign (1628–31) as he was attacked by his uncle after an erotic indiscretion and forced to flee. A late version of the chronicle relates how the young fugitive hid on the top of a sugar palm and was tracked down by a party of European mercenaries. As the soldiers aimed with their muskets, the king pronounced with a loud voice:Verse

Verse Damned Europeans! They pursue in order to shoot at the Lord The august Raj Sambhar Who has ascended to the midst of a sugar palm Without fearing his might. The Lord raises his hand To make them hold back and wait (Mak Phoeun 1981, 391)

The protestations of the king were to no avail, as he was shot down by the Europeans after having delivered a moralistic poem. Although European mercenaries might have been present at the regicide, the scene of a king composing verses before his demise is, of course, fiction that emphasizes the dark aspects of employing white soldiers for hire. Although the story actually recounts an internal dynastic feud, the foreigners are depicted as a frightening tool to kill the legitimate ruler under the most ignoble circumstances.

Westerners are also sometimes inclined to break sexual norms. An undated Malay syair (song) known in several versions tells of Sinyor Kosta (Senhor Costa), a young Portuguese merchant who arrives to an unnamed Southeast Asian port and sets up a trading factory. There he sets eye on Siti, a Sino-Burmese girl of outstanding beauty who is, however, married to a Cantonese man.Verse

Verse Up to the alley he would walk To catch a glimpse of Siti in the upper room. His hat cocked and umbrella furled With sidelong glances he would look at her (Teeuw et al. 2004, 254)

Moreover, his passions are not restricted to Siti. He is also “seized by desire” when he once imbibes a large quantity of arrack and sees a pretty Balinese girl and “yearned to have some sports with her.”Verse

Verse The Balinese girl flung the cloth down, Saying, ‘Don’t fool around with me’. If your passion is aroused so strongly, Find someone else, don’t pick on me. (Teeuw et al. 2004, 271)

The story emphasizes the uncontrolled behavior of the Portuguese, whose adultery with the Chinese Siti ultimately leads to misery. Though the author(s) of the song appears to feel sympathies with the intense passions of the wayward Westerner, the latter is also used as a literary device to embody impassionate and unbridled conduct and breach of sexual norms.

Another variant on the theme of wayward Westerners is found in the Burmese chronicle Hmannan Yazawin (1832). The Burmese ruler Tabinshwehti (1531–1550) gathered the major part of the country under his sway after centuries of political division. In this he was helped by Portuguese mercenaries. The chronicle alleges that the king, after a series of warlike exploits, began to consort with a young Feringhi (Portuguese) and fell from kingly virtue. The Portuguese rose to prominence due to his skills with the awe-inspiring firearms and taught his local wife to cook dishes from his homeland to serve the king, with great success. Eventually the foreigner prepared spirits that soon turned Tabinshwehti into an alcoholic who lost his wits. The royal entourage managed to exile the Portuguese in the end, but it was too late. Some of his chamberlains murdered the king, and the empire had to be constructed anew by his successor, Bayinnaung (1551–1581). There are some problems with the story, which does not entirely fit with contemporary sources (Harvey 1925, 160–1, 343). Anyway, the chronicler regards the Portuguese as harmful and norm-breaking figures with the potential for debauchery against Burmese people and creating harm for the country.

The Mythical Past

The image of the distant past is not merely a mosaic of mythologized persons and events but also a charter against which the present may be judged. In a Southeast Asian context, origin stories often play a seminal role in explaining the hierarchies and cultural specifics of a society. We may therefore ask if Europeans have a place in such stories. It should be remarked that Southeast Asian historiographies did not usually have the means to determine whether Europeans had been present since the sixteenth century or for much longer than that.

In most places, mythical origin stories make no references to Europeans. The chronicles of the mainland kingdoms typically start in a remote age and mix local folklore, Hindu myths, Buddhist legends, and the chroniclers’ own constructions. Europeans come in late in the chronicles, and only sparsely, when dramatic and warlike events occur. The situation is different with historical and pseudo-historical narratives which emerged in the maritime world. Europeans occasionally occur in remote times, by implication long before the actual start of contact in 1509. Thus, the Malay epic, Hikayat Hang Tuah, lets its hero Hang Tuah act in a landscape that defies historical chronology in the Western sense. A loyal follower of the Sultan of Melaka, Hang Tuah travels to many countries, including India and China, where he meets hostile Portuguese seafarers whom he defeats through his bravery and use of magic spells. He also defeats a large fleet from Spanish Manila that attacks Melaka—long before the actual appearance of the Portuguese or Spanish in the region. Only after Hang Tuah’s death are the whites able to invest Melaka through cunning means (Reid 1994, 282–3).

The Hikayat Banjar (1660s), which details the history of the largest kingdom of southern Borneo, takes for granted that Dutch people came to trade on the same premises as Chinese, Malays, Indians, and others, at a time that lies several generations before European contacts with Southeast Asia (Ras 1968, 263). Likewise, the Balinese legendary chronicle Usana Jawa (seventeenth century?) mentions a large number of ethnic groups associated with the Javanese Majapahit Empire (1293–c. 1520), which include the Hulanda people alongside Brunei, Bugis, Makassar, Tambora, and so on. The Hulanda are, of course, the Dutch who in fact only arrived in 1596; thus, there is no sense that the Dutch are newcomers to the islands. Curiously, the Usana Jawa asserts that the Hulanda were found to the east of Majapahit, perhaps since they were first established in the Spice Islands in the far eastern archipelago and only later founded Batavia (Jakarta) on Java (Warna 1986b, 93). Even more to the point are legends from the eastern parts of maritime Southeast Asia. Stories of old times told in East Timor sometimes mention a generic affinity between the Portuguese colonizers and Timorese peoples. The Mambai people see themselves as senior in a Timor-wide context, but at the same time, the power of the local elite is thought to emanate from the Portuguese, who are incorporated into a mythologized system. The Portuguese are no unqualified strangers to the land since they have parted from Timor in a remote time. Therefore, they are in fact younger sons returning to the land (Traube 1986, 52–4).

Overcoming White Strangers

As Anthony Reid has noticed, the idea of Westerners in early Southeast Asian texts tends to be either neutral or negative, with the negative images gaining ground over time. He finds almost no early text that puts European culture and ethnicity in a positive light (Reid 1994, 288). As we shall see later, this view may not be entirely correct, but it is apparent that many narratives construct an image of the white strangers as fundamentally aggressive and hostile. Given the centuries-long history of colonial and commercial encroachment, this may not be surprising. Against this background, there are many stories that tell of defensive stratagems against the invaders, stories that mostly have a historical background but may be less than accurate. Supernatural power is a recurring ingredient in the struggle; in many parts of Southeast Asia, personal prowess is associated with a concentration of cosmic power. Objects such as daggers, swords, and even bullets are supposedly imbued with magic power and represent a channel between the local/individual microcosm and the larger macrocosm (Andaya and Andaya 2015, 49–53). This is overlaid by religious antagonism: the Europeans are cast as the enemies of Islam or Buddhism, which had become dominant in Southeast Asia by the early-modern era.

The magic exploits of Hang Tuah against the Iberians have been mentioned. The part-legendary chronicle of Banjarmasin on Borneo, Hikayat Banjar (1660s), tells of defiance against the Europeans in more subtle terms. The historical Dutch attack on Banjarmasin in 1636, a punitive expedition where four vessels shelled the royal city, is told in some detail, being the only substantial mention of Europeans in the chronicle. However, the calamitous nature of the attack is modified by the stance of the sultan, Marhum Panembahan. He solemnly forbids three of his chiefs to attack the ships, as he himself has the means to ruin them. Through his innate powers, he can make the Dutch lose their wits, and eventually, the attack is terminated and the ships withdraw. Though not actually denying the ruinous Dutch action, which causes him to search for a new capital, the kingdom is protected from worse devastation through macrocosmic intervention via the pious sultan (Ras 1968, 465).

A more ecology-oriented variant is told in Belu in Central Timor, which historically had to deal with both the Portuguese and the Dutch. Narratives recorded in the twentieth century tell of ancient invasions by Portuguese, who are commonly seen as dangerous and hostile figures in contrast to the trading Makassarese people from Sulawesi. The Belunese cannot match the Portuguese proficiency in firearms; instead, they know how to activate black bees and wasps through a peculiar ceremony. During the battle that follows, the insects swarm around the Europeans and force them to flee in haste (Spillett 1999, 143). Interestingly, a similar story is told about the Dutch war of conquest in the western part of the island in 1905–1906. The last ruler of the West Timorese inland realm of Sonba’i, Nai Sobe Sonba’i III, used the strength of the inherited ancestral knowledge to counter the invaders. When the whites, who are here likened to “white monkeys in trousers,” advanced on the mountain stronghold Kauniki, the ruler directed the bees swarming in the eucalyptus groves against them. The Timorese defenders thus gained some time to regroup as the colonial soldiers fled head over heels, although the ruler was betrayed and captured in the end. Contemporary colonial reports do not mention any impact from bees, but the narrative provides a striking example of anti-colonialism intertwined with ancestral beliefs and forces of nature (Hägerdal 2017, 592; Fobia 1984, 102).

Bonding the Strangers

Such stories indicate a will to portray the Westerners as an essentially destructive force opposed to local norms. Though written or narrated at different times, the stories arose in a world where Europeans could not be easily expelled. While the mainland kingdoms largely kept them out until the nineteenth century, the societies of the island world had to endure their increasingly intrusive presence. For some, especially small-sized and vulnerable societies, the Europeans offered possibilities as powerful protectors. Some scholars speak of the “stranger kings” syndrome, where outsiders are installed inside and accorded governing powers. While outsiders may have frightening aspects, they can also be an asset due to their very foreignness. They may stand detached from local competitors for authority and therefore be in a position to bonding adjudicate in fragmented and strife-torn societies. This might be a reason why certain Southeast Asian societies accepted colonial suzerainty from an early stage despite its oppressive aspects (Henley 2002).

For such societies, the bonding process in a historical past was petrified in stories that were also charters which inscribed the present social order. There are numerous narratives of this kind in the small-scale societies of eastern Indonesia and Timor-Leste, often including marriages that installed the foreigners in the local order. In Larantuka and Sikka in East Flores, a complex of stories tells of early culture heroes who make contact with arriving Portuguese ships and are educated among the foreigners, subsequently introducing Catholicism. While this was evidently a long and uneven process, it is here distilled into particular events with little regard for chronology. Thus, Dom Augustinho, who introduced the Christian creed in Sikka, is represented as the son of the king of Melaka, disregarding the Muslim identity of the real sultans of Melaka before 1511 (Lewis 2010). In Larantuka, the person who first disseminates Catholicism is actually the son of the tuan tanah (lord of the land), making the spread of the true faith an indigenous initiative as much as a European one (Heynen 1876, 2–13).

On nearby Timor, the indigenous dynamics in bonding the foreigners are likewise stressed. A story recorded in the nineteenth century tells of a fisherman from Solor, an island east of Flores which kept a Dutch garrison after 1613. When he once sailed his craft to the open sea, a big fish swallowed the hook and dragged the boat all the way to Kupang in westernmost Timor. The curious locals gathered at the seashore and asked where he came from. The fisher replied that he came from Solor, where the Dutch were an ordering force and conditions were advantageous. The local Timorese then decided to invite the white foreigners to establish a post in Kupang, which they willingly did (Heijmering 1847, 46–9). Historically, the coming of the Dutch to Kupang is dated 1653, though the circumstances bear no resemblance to the oral tradition. In this case the colonial establishment is fated through the intervention of the large fish.

Stories like this may raise eyebrows since they so obviously depict the colonials in a positive light as an ordering force. One factor is the acculturation that was going on. On Flores, Solor, and Timor, intermarriage was common, resulting in Christian Eurasian populations in the colonial ports (Hägerdal 2012, 43–7, 133–8, 255–99). Naturally, these stories do not represent a unanimous endorsement of the colonial practices among local societies. On the contrary, there are also numerous narratives from eastern Indonesia about abusive practices on the part of Dutch and Portuguese people who have bonded indigenous kings and elites. In these stories, mendaciousness and base stratagems play a large role. A story recorded in Ambon (Moluccas) in 1678 tells of Sultan Babullah of Ternate, a truly heroic figure who expands the territory of the spice sultanate in various directions. Historically, this individual is well attested to have reigned in 1570–1583 (Andaya and Andaya 2015, 166–7). As the sultan returns from a successful expedition from Sulawesi, a Portuguese ship lies at anchor at Ternate Island and invites him for deliberations. Babullah steps on board and is immediately arrested by the Europeans, who sail to Ambon with their prisoner, before proceeding towards India. A number of Ambonese people manage to come aboard to greet the sultan, having tied daggers to their bodies without the Portuguese noticing. They offer to run amuck against the Portuguese and liberate the ruler. However, Babullah, knowing his fate, refuses their help and later dies during the sea trip to Portuguese Goa (Rumphius 2001, 150). The story is fictional since the historical Babullah died from illness at home, but the framing indicates local feelings towards the rapacious and untrustworthy Portuguese.

Accounts of European-indigenous altercations may also combine untrustworthiness on the part of former with supernatural skills on the part of the latter. The historical Timorese ruler Nai Baob Sonba’i fled from the might of the oppressive Topasses (Portuguese Eurasians) in 1748 and found refuge in Kupang in westernmost Timor where the Dutch maintained a post. He was accepted as a subordinated ally of the Dutch East India Company. However, the ruler was arrested and exiled by the Dutch in 1752 since he was suspected of colluding with the Portuguese, rivals of the East India Company in this part of Southeast Asia (Hägerdal 2009, 57–8). This incident is remembered in local tradition as a contest in magic. The Dutch commander teasingly invites the ruler to prove his innate power by performing a succession of impossible tasks. In fact, the ruler, who thereby puts the Dutchman to shame, wins the various sections of the contest. Nai Baob Sonba’i first turns into a snake, which enables him to crawl through the hole of a blowpipe, then puts a burning wax candle into his mouth without being hurt, and finally outweighs a load of sandalwood—the Timorese export product par excellence. The European commander, fearful of the magic powers of his adversary, eventually resorts to base treachery and exiles the ruler to the colonial capital Batavia (Fobia 1984, 78–81). In this way, the historiographical tables are turned, and the element of treason is transferred from the indigenous lord to the white man.

Explaining European Ascendency

The European political ascendancy in Southeast Asia was a slow process, and it seems likely that most people in the region up to the nineteenth century had never seen a European, although they may well have felt the consequences of Western economic encroachment in a variety of ways. However, as the colonial grip on Southeast Asian territories tightened, there arose a need to explain the process. The foreigners had other customs, other values, and other religious beliefs but still prevailed and forced local elites to yield.

One way to explain all this was that the Westerners after all had gained a degree of legitimacy, although it was perhaps not of the type expected by a Western reader. Javanese historical tradition informs us that an ancient kingdom on the island, Pajajaran, possessed great spiritual power. Although it fell to a Muslim conqueror in 1579, a princess with a flaming womb was issued by the ruling dynasty. Though attractive, her flaming genitals made intercourse impossible for any man, and she was finally banished to an island outside of modern Jakarta. Later on, a certain Dutch captain bought her for three magic cannons. The Dutchman was actually able to sleep with her, and the pair gave rise to the Dutch colonial rulers. For that reason, the Europeans were legitimately established in West Java (Batavia, Jakarta) and allied with the kings of Java (Reid 1994, 292). A variant of this is found in the fantastic romance of Baron Sakender, where the son of the Pajajaran princess and the Dutchman is no other than Jangkung, i.e., the historical empire builder Jan Pieterszoon Coen (1587–1629). Through his bloody exploits in building up Dutch power in the islands, he avenges his insulted mother and the Muslim conquest of Pajajaran (Reid 1994, 293–4). Thus, particular events, which are in themselves ultimately historical, are rearranged in a new chain of causality to provide a rationale of colonial rule.

Another given reason for the Western ascendancy was the foreigners’ ability to overcome the magic of their opponent. This is seen in stories about the Dutch conquest of Bali in 1906 and 1908. Powerful heirloom weapons play an important role in Southeast Asian cultures, and military successes are often attributed to these objects. As highlighted by Margaret Wiener, there is/was a Balinese belief that the Dutch managed to neutralize the heirlooms, which had been so efficient in halting the invaders on earlier occasions. This stratagem explained the sudden and complete takeover of the colonial forces, after notoriously mowing down the suicidal attacks (puputan) of the old Balinese elite (Wiener 1995). But there is also a sense that the colonial conquest is fated and accompanied by natural phenomena that forebode the disaster. The Balinese chronicle Babad Dalem provides a dramatic account of the demise of Klungkung, the senior kingdom of Bali, in 1908. It might be noted that the omens are noted down in some detail while the battle itself is only mentioned in extreme brevity and without much animosity towards the Dutch:

A long time after His Majesty [I Dewa Agung Gede Jambe] became king, during about two years, there were signs of disorder. There were many signs that foreboded the destruction of the land of Smarawijaya [Klungkung]. Suddenly, the waringin tree that grew in the yard outside the Smarawijaya Palace had white leaves on a branch. And there was an eclipse that was not at the right time. The body of a human without head was seen touching the rays of the sun. The Unda River was also flooded and washed away countless trees. Crying was heard every night in the four junctions of Klungkung town, without it being known where it came from. Such is the story. Then the land of Smarawijaya was attacked by the Dutch troops. Eventually the Dutch troops managed to subjugate the land of Smarawijaya. I Dewa Agung Gede Jambe fell on the field of battle in the puputan. (Warna 1986a, 129)

More common, perhaps, is the perceived ability of the Europeans to resort to trickery. There is a comprehensive category of trickster tales in various Southeast Asian cultures, and colonial power expansion is conveniently fitted into such stories. The well-known tale of a local ruler offering a newcomer as much land as he can cover with an ox hide, upon which the newcomer cuts the hide in narrow strips and is able to cover a substantial territory, is found in several places. In a Western context, the story is applied to the founding of ancient Carthage and Viking-age York. The theme is interestingly also located in various parts of Southeast Asia, where it is used to explain European settlements in Melaka, Batavia, and Syriam (Burma) (Reid 1994, 290–1). Again, we see how widespread literary tropes were used to give an edge to the dramatic coming of cultural strangers, whose unpredictability and cunningness are emphasized.

Conclusions

While Southeast Asia is a vast region with multiple historiographic and literary traditions, this brief essay has highlighted some characteristics of the “fantastic” Occidentalism that evolved there. The outlay of all these imaginations depended on a set of factors: the aims of the foreigners (war, conquest, trade, missionizing), the intensity of the relations (temporary visits, frequent intercourse, settlement), and the perceived cultural differences. Some general trends may be discerned across the region.

Southeast Asians, especially in the archipelagic world, were used to multi-cultural milieus. Ethnic and cultural differences between “us” and “them” are sometimes noted in chronicles and literary texts, but more often not, as they seem to be of little concern. “Race” does not play a role in this essay; construction of inside and outside groups is a general human phenomenon but did not translate into the ontological bifurcation tied to power and knowledge production that is seen in modern Western history and occasionally in Asian civilizations (Araújo and Maeso 2015, 22; Dikötter 1992). For most Southeast Asians, there was no way to know if the Europeans had been present for 200 or 400 or 1000 years, and they could even be included in lists of peoples present since ancient times. Moreover, it is striking that historical traditions often tell very little of Europeans even in countries where we know that they were present and had some economic impact. Until the late colonial era, they were simply not important for the day-to-day life of most people. For members of the learned elites, China, India, and Arabia might have more important as points of reference. One may argue that Southeast Asian Occidentalism is different from European Orientalism through the inferiority of power capabilities of the Southeast Asians that would have impeded a Saidian positional superiority vis-à-vis the foreigners, but this is only partly applicable. For much of the period from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century, there was no way that locals in, say, Burma or Sumatra could tell that Europeans would gain political and economic hegemony in the future.

The white foreigners do occur, however, in disruptive and dramatic situations, often relating to war and conquest. They were often depicted as frightening, dangerous, untrustworthy, and cunning. Their behavior could be lewd and despicable, even when religious and cultural differences were omitted in the stories. There is a difference here from other foreign groups, such as Arabs, Indians, and Chinese. At the same time, their frightening aspects could be handled to the advantage of locals when they were invited to protect and adjudicate vulnerable societies, thus performing the role of stranger kings. Whatever the case, the Westerners were rarely players on the same conditions as Southeast Asian ethnic groups. Although they were present since the sixteenth century and although they readily intermarried with local women, they remain essential outsiders in tradition and lore.