Opinions

On 16 August 2021, following the resignation of Tan Sri Muhyiddin Yassin’s government due to backlash on the handling of Covid-19, UMNO vice president, Dato’ Sri Ismail Sabri became the ninth Prime Minister to lead the country’s recovery. He commanded a very slim four-seat majority in Malaysia’s 222-seat parliament of 114 seats. Pakatan Harapan (PH), the opposition bloc, had 88 seats in parliament. The country was still recovering with half-baked lockdowns and an unfinished vaccination program, and a general election was unrealistic and inconsiderate to the struggling rakyat. Thus, a memorandum of agreement between PH and the government was signed to ensure political stability.

It’s odd how what other people see as a waste of time is insightful for me and has changed my perspective on things. Whether it be bickering couples or day-to-day lives, as usual, your girl loves listing, and today’s list will be in the form of the things I have learned from one of my go-to series, One Day At A Time.

Malaysia has been and is able to produce great actors and actresses, but great actors and actresses need great scripts to support their skills. Under the current highly-restricted content-creating environment via various laws such as the Film Censorship Act and the Communications and Multimedia Act, it is hard for directors and scriptwriters to produce works with unconstrained style. One of the reasons why Asian films find it difficult to surpass Hollywood films in terms of global box office performance is the relatively restricted genres of content that can be legally and safely produced. In Malaysia, issues about race, religion, gender identity, and politics have always been untouchable taboos. Whoever touches it, even while meaning well, will be deemed insensitive and face various legal and ethical controversies. As an industry that values freedom, it is not irrational for filmmakers to leave Malaysia and seek a freer market overseas.

An oft-cited defence of Muslims against Islamophobes and critics of the religion is that what those on the fringes of the religious practice and preach is not what Islam stands for. In addition to a gap between theory and practice, there is also a gap between the mortal and the divine. Islam is a perfect divine religion, but those practising it are imperfect mortal men. This imperfection manifests itself in many ways. Some are as innocent as in the way Muslims pray (notice how some schools (madhhab) hold the hands over their bellies whilst others don’t?).1 Some as far as whether women are sui juris in terms of marriage.2 And there are even ones that go as far as differences in basic theological principles. For instance, on whether people have free will as it relates to predestination (Qada’ and Qadr).3 The core idea here is that these differences in opinion epitomise the problem of human interpretation of the divine – that they are fundamentally imperfect.

Climate change is widely accepted as an issue, but it is not always intuitive. How is a substance as invisible and harmless as Carbon Dioxide (CO2) able to wreak havoc on earth at a scale being claimed – after all, is CO2 not what we naturally produce when we breathe, and what fuels the existence of the beautiful greeneries of the earth? If the reports from a few months ago claim that we are headed towards some of the hottest heatwaves Britain has seen, how, then, are we experiencing one of the coldest winters in recent years? Yet, climate change is an issue that has been well-understood by the scientific community for decades; it is the nuances that are difficult to communicate. These nuances are often lost in headline statements such as ‘keeping 1.5 ˚C within reach’ or ‘reach net-zero by 2050,’ fuelling much scepticism, or rather a lack of urgency, among the public. This article aims to inform the reader of the key concepts underpinning climate change science and clarify common misconceptions. 

A couple of months back, I drove to the Royal Lake Club at the heart of metropolitan Kuala Lumpur. As I stepped out of my car, I checked my pockets for my cigarette case containing my beloved Sampoerna. I lit the cigarette as I was early for my meeting with a Minister from Bersatu. Less than 400 metres west is Dataran Merdeka; many battles have been fought there. 1998 witnessed seas of Malaysians square up against the Federal Reserve Unit as they rallied in the name of ‘Reformasi’. In the late 2000s, Malaysians took to the street again to demand free and fair elections, ‘Bersih!’, they cried as the surroundings were blurred with tear gas and showers of the FRU’s chemical-induced water cannon. Cries of ‘Kleptocracy’ filled Dataran Merdeka in 2015.

The past few weeks have been a tumultuous period for Malaysia. As the dust settles (for now), and Malaysia’s 10th Prime Minister, Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim, prepares to helm the new government, it is timely to take a step back and consider the current state of the country, as well as lessons that leaders and ordinary citizens should takeaway. As an individual who studied political science, here are three points of reflection about nation-building and where we go from here.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” “Step out of your comfort zone,” “You will be fine,” such so-called motivating quotes have never failed to crop up in our sight, be it on our social media pages, our daily conversations with acquaintances, or even loved ones.

As students studying overseas in the UK and Ireland, we are a handful of the lucky ones on track to living life the predetermined ‘good’ way — trying our best to study hard in ‘good’ universities, get ‘good’ grades, and graduate in a field with good ‘career’ prospects. Once all that’s done, we are meant to go on and work in ‘good’ companies, contribute to society in meaningful ways, and start the process all over again with the partner and children that we are supposed to have. With the golden rule in place, life becomes boring with a fixed template; at different points in our lives, we might wonder if there really is more to life than it seems.

“Was British colonialism in Malaysia a good thing?” This was the prompt I was given in Year 8 history when my teacher, despite my fervent and unequivocal presentation answering a firm ‘no’ to this question, continued to encouragingly say, “There were some positive facets as well…” Though my frustration was palpable, my 14-year-old self struggled to fully articulate how harrowing it was to hear someone, a British woman, no less, attempt to silence me and dismiss the trauma of an entire society who continues to struggle in the wake of a post-colonial hangover.