Focus Focus: Tin Kosing Epics

“Malaysians don't want to talk about anything serious.”

That was the first salvo of criticism my young, economist friend leveled against some of the most recent generations of post-Merdeka (and post formation-of-Malaysia-in-1963—a year we should do well to remember) Malaysians. In other words, he was talking about you and me—himself included too, I should think.

Quite a strident remark, I thought to myself, seeing that I had barely settled into my hot mug of teh tarik. I had to respond.

“Sure, but why do you think that's the case?”

And off we went. At that point, as words started flying, I gently reminded myself to avoid embarking on such adventurous pseudo-scholarly ambitions so late into the night (especially after having gone through a gruelling and tumultuous three-hour theatre rehearsal!).

We spoke at length about why it was advantageous to whoever was in control of things to maintain this state of apparent apathy, while at the same time stifling other means of contemporary public discourse and outpourings of discontent (like blogs—the new Abdullah administration's bugbear), thereby making it all the more pleasant to pose with that plastic, uber-saccharine “Visit Malaysia 2007” smile, since everything is fine and dandy in this land.

The premise behind this, to our fertile minds at that time (intoxicated as it was with caffeine), is the idea that on a basic level, the style of administration has not entirely changed—in the sense that our colonial administrative forebears regarded this land as being divisible on ethnic grounds (and we still clearly observe this today, don't we?). It's just that the quality of administrators has gone far, far South. Crudely put, we have a car but we're driving it over the cliff and into the jurang of no return.

It’s entirely to the political elite's advantage to maintain the status quo, and at this point, we began to talk some economics, and how money is indelibly linked to how things are run (over) in this corner of the world (as though it’s gone out of fashion everywhere else).

Actually, what really got the night started was the National Service, and how silly a project it really is. (I mean, come on guys, who are we kidding? Integration? If it hasn't already happened in school, how is it supposed to happen in three friggin' months? Getting lost in the jungle? Sudden death by exhaustion?) But NS serves an economic end as well (I'm sure it's been pointed out before, so I won't dwell on the details), which reveals what kind of a cash cow partisan politics is in this fair land of ours. Business folk want “political stability” so the economy stays afloat to ensure profitability for the Malaysian elite.

Thus, expression (cultural, artistic, political, etc) is curtailed to ensure a superbly stable environment for politics, and hence business. Hence, apathy is to be systematically inculcated into the KBSR and KBSM, all the way through to the day you wear your mortar board and gown and beyond. It's like animal husbandry, only worse. We're human Duracell batteries a la The Matrix, mass-produced and suspended in a manufactured reality so we could generate power that could never belong to us.

But where does one go with these arguments if they remain merely arguments? My increasingly jaded friend is becoming more and more certain that he wants to leave. For good. It kind of breaks my heart, I guess, but what's a lonely Malaysian to do when it seems that our idea of a Malaysia cannot but remain just that (and one that must be spoken in hushed tones, pulak tu)?

Therein lies the heart of the seemingly moribund chatter: change cannot come by one person's actions alone. My one article a month in this magazine, which only reaches so many people, isn't enough to generate a whimper next to the cacophonous machinery of the establishment (not to mention the whole lot of noise created by the mass media, PR and advertising firms). A couple of blogs only goes so far. Real social change (for whatever ends) can only be massive.

We spoke about a lot more things that night (like how Malaysia is literally built by the hands of migrant workers, and how some of society's most important people—teachers, who educate the young, and policemen, who hold the guns—are the least paid), but it felt like we could make no further inroads. Talk can only bring about so much change, if at all.

As the night came to a close (for me, at least), I was left with an indelible impression, a tired-out friend, and a reminder of more pressing matters: the looming Malaysian general elections, and perhaps, a chance for change.

TEXT FAHMI FADZIL