Photo shows one of the ‘tempayan’ on display at the Borneo Cultures Museum in Kuching – standing as a testament to an old legal system deeply embedded in the community’s social and spiritual fabric, where the healing of the collective was paramount.
AS a Singaporean, I had the immense privilege of speaking at the Sarawak Media Conference 2025 (SMEC2025) in Kuching earlier this week.
It was my first time in Sarawak, and what an introduction!
With artificial intelligence (AI) rapidly transforming industries, what truly struck me was how many speakers passionately articulated the critical importance of the ‘human touch’.
But what exactly defines this human touch?
Will it really help you not be replaced by AI?
My quest for an answer began after SMEC2025. It led me to the magnificent Borneo Cultures Museum, which offered a profound counterpoint through its powerful reminder of what could truly anchor us in the age of AI.
Walking through its thoughtfully curated galleries, I found myself immersed in the defining traits of being human: survival, belonging, storytelling, and meaning-making.
Amidst art and traditions deeply rooted in nature and indigenous wisdom, a powerful realisation dawned – AI is rooted in large language models, prompts and words.
So what happens when we go beyond words?
A long time ago, philosopher René Descartes famously declared: “I think, therefore I am.”
In this age of AI, however, machines ‘think’ with unprecedented speed and complexity.
Gazing at the intricate patterns of a traditional weaving or the weathered tools of a hunter-gatherer, perhaps ancient humans operate more according to “I feel, therefore I am.”
Even more profoundly: “I sense, therefore I am.”
Our senses, our instincts, our shared cultural memory – these are the anchors that truly ground us amidst the rising tide of algorithms.
So much, truly, goes beyond words.
Human touch in everyday objects, ancient customs
This ‘human touch’ manifests in myriad ways. It is often embedded in the very objects we create.
In the museum, I witnessed how differences in values and statuses were woven into the very fabric of life.
This was visible in the intricate designs of textiles, the storytelling of tattoos, and the powerful carvings on weapons. A master weaver, whose hands transformed threads into ‘Pua Kumbu’ with designs imbued with protective power and ancestral blessings, commanded immense respect.
Similarly, the placement and motifs of traditional tattoos, like those of the Iban or Kayan, were more than mere decoration – they marked rites of passage, celebrated achievements like headhunting victories, offered spiritual protection, and clearly indicated a person’s identity and social standing.
Even the detailed wood carvings on a ‘mandau’ (Dayak sword) were not just aesthetic; they spoke of craftsmanship, spiritual connection, and the warrior’s prowess.
The museum also vividly brought to life the profound connection indigenous communities have with their natural environment.
The hornbill, for instance, is a revered symbol across many Dayak cultures. Its majestic presence, often depicted in carvings, art and weapons, embodies courage, strength, and even represents the spiritual world and the connection between the human and divine.
Witnessing these representations, you understand that so much of what these cultures value goes beyond literal words; it is felt and understood through shared symbols and deep-seated reverence.
And speaking of the spiritual realm, the role of shamans in these societies is held in incredibly high regard.
These spiritual healers and intermediaries between the human and spirit worlds embody another crucial aspect of the ‘human touch’ – our innate desire for meaning, healing, and connection to something larger than ourselves.
Their rituals, their wisdom, and their ability to navigate unseen dimensions speak to a holistic understanding of well-being that transcends purely scientific or logical frameworks.
Vases, justice, and peace-making
What truly blew my mind, however, was discovering the fascinating and deeply resonant ways that disputes, even the grievous ones, were traditionally resolved.
Imagine a world where a murder, or even a deeply cutting insult like calling someone a ‘slave’, could be settled not with incarceration or drawn-out legal battles, but with the ceremonial ceding of an exquisite vase.
It’s quite mind-bending, isn’t it?
These vases are often ancient ‘tajau’ – large, ornate ceramic jars, frequently of Chinese origin, that have been heirlooms for generations.
In many indigenous customary laws, or ‘adat’, in Borneo, these ‘tajau’ held immense spiritual and material value, representing wealth, status, and connection to ancestral lines.
For instance, a severe offence like murder might require the ceding of a ‘Tempayan Menaga’, a highly-prized and significant jar, as a form of restorative justice.
And the profound act of reconciliation for a deeply cutting insult, like calling someone a ‘slave’ could be settled by presenting a ‘Tempayan Rusa’.
To think that such profound shame could be acknowledged, and peace made through the acceptance of a beautiful, yet symbolically heavy, vessel, is truly captivating.
I imagined myself walking into a Sarawakian’s home and seeing a ‘Tempayan Rusa’ as part of their collection, and instantly understanding the profound journey of shame and eventual peace that it represents for their family’s history.
The act of ceding such a prized possession as compensation was a powerful act of restorative justice – of being the bigger person acknowledging the harm, restoring balance to the community, and preventing prolonged feuds.
This vase seems to serve as a public declaration of accountability and a tangible effort to mend broken relationships and spiritual equilibrium.
It stands as a testament to a legal system deeply embedded in the community’s social and spiritual fabric, where the healing of the collective was paramount.
Grounding AI in ancient wisdom and local values
This deep reverence for connection resonated profoundly with a point raised by another esteemed speaker, Datuk Suhaimi Sulaiman, as we were eating a second lunch of ‘Laksa Sarawak’ after the conference.
Datuk Suhaimi is a really cool guy whom I want to be like when I am older.
He spoke about ancient animistic beliefs in Sarawak, where people felt that a soul, or spiritual essence, resided in everything – even non-living objects.
Beyond that, Datuk Suhaimi paired this concept with the idea of gratitude.
If you believe that there’s a soul in everything, and you express thanks for it, you naturally cultivate a more grateful outlook on life.
Imagine applying this profound sense of gratitude and respect to AI itself.
Instead of merely seeing AI as a tool, what if we imbued our creation and interactions with it with a similar reverence for its ‘essence’ and functionality?
This attitude suggests that if we design and use AI systems with an inherent sense of gratitude for their capabilities, acknowledging their ‘contributions’ to our lives, we could foster a more harmonious and mutually beneficial relationship.
It’s strikingly similar to the Japanese concept of ‘yaorozu no kami’, the myriad gods or spirits in everything – extending respect not just to nature, but to all components of our existence, including technology.
This deep parallel, connecting ancient wisdom with future technology, shows remarkable progress in line with what the Premier of Sarawak Datuk Patinggi Tan Sri Abang Johari Tun Openg is advocating for.
The writer (centre) in a group photo with some of the SMEC2025 participants: (from left) Ashley Pan from Borneo Talk; The Borneo Post chief reporter Churchill Edward, and its executive editor (business desk) Ronnie Teo; reporters Henrietta Liza (Utusan Borneo) and Jude Toyat (The Borneo Post); and Peter Sibon from Sarawak Public Communications Unit.
Indeed, Sarawak’s own emerging AI project, ‘DeepSar’ (DeepSeek Sarawak), conceptualised by Datuk Patinggi Abang Johari, mirrors this thoughtful approach.
DeepSar is about building AI grounded in local wisdom, data sovereignty, and cultural relevance.
This thoughtful approach reflects the very spirit that I encountered in the museum: an understanding that true progress is deeply connected to who we are, acknowledging the nuanced tapestry of human existence, including its historical expressions of justice, reverence for nature, and profound spiritual practices.
I’m very optimistic about Sarawak’s thoughtful approach to AI development, believing that it can lead to AI that is not just smart, but also ‘wise’ in a human sense.
The museum did showcase human values brilliantly: status, power, money, and beauty.
These are the persistent desires that, regardless of era or technological advancement, seem to echo through the human experience.
It’s a humbling reminder that even as our tools evolve, certain fundamental aspects of our striving remain constant.
Shared threads, distinct hues: Singapore and Sarawak
My journey through Sarawak revealed fascinating parallels and powerful nuances with my home, Singapore.
Both are multi-ethnic societies. Both value progress. Both were part of Malaysia when it was established – Sarawak stayed, Singapore left.
However, their approaches to diversity showcase a subtle, yet profound, difference.
In Singapore, our success is often attributed to tolerance, a carefully cultivated harmony achieved through strong institutions, clear social boundaries, and mutual respect within a well-defined shared space.
It is about respecting others and not giving offence.
Sarawak, however, seems to embody something akin to ‘letting people be themselves’.
The vibes are more ‘chill’ here.
Diversity feels like a more organic, deeply ingrained acceptance, perhaps forged over generations of coexistence.
While Sarawak also values peace-making, its approach seems to allow for a freer expression of individual and group identities.
There is a sense that people are less constrained by rigid social expectations, as long as it doesn’t harm the collective peace.
My gratitude to Sarawakians
My time in Sarawak was a heartwarming experience.
I received incredible hospitality. I got so many local handmade gifts too!
From the moment I arrived, I was enveloped in such warmth.
I lost count of the delicious Sarawakian butter cakes and the exquisite ‘Kek Lapis’ (Sarawak layered cakes) that I was offered after the conference – each slice a testament to the generosity and culinary delights of this state.
As a Singaporean, I want to express my immense gratitude to Ali Suhaili, the chief executive officer of Angkatan Zaman Mansang Sarawak (AZAM).
As a history buff, his insights over lunches and dinners truly inspired me to delve deeper into Sarawak’s rich history, providing a lens through which to understand the profound cultural context shaping its future.
And to the entire AZAM team, thank you for your boundless kindness and hospitality ranging from ‘Kek Lapis’ to the awfully sinful salted cheesecake worth every single calorie; you truly made this an unforgettable journey of learning and connection.
Stepping into the Borneo Cultures Museum was a revelation, and I’m so grateful that I went there.
With no prior context as an outsider to this vibrant culture, my visit held no nostalgia.
However, the sheer brilliance of the curation spoke volumes. It powerfully impressed upon me the vital importance of preparing ourselves – and the next generation – to approach the age of AI with clarity, humility, and humanity.
We truly do these by asking better questions, because ultimately, the most powerful innovations will not just be those that push the boundaries of what machines can do, but those that deepen our understanding of what it truly means to be human, in all its diverse, complex, and beautifully expressed forms, where so much is felt and understood beyond words.
* Soh is the chief executive officer of AI Visionary Society Singapore, and one of the speakers for the just-concluded Sarawak Media Conference 2025 in Kuching.