Learn to Learn - Reflections on Civility

 Learn to Learn

活到老，学到老

Reflections on Civility

三人行，必有我师焉

If three people walk together, one of them is surely capable of being my teacher.

 

Introduction
Oh, those dreadful Sundays!

It was in the late 1970s, when I was working for the Genting Group as their project manager. Although we operated from the then UMBC Building next to Kampong Attap, architect Ong Chong Hock and I were expected to follow Tan Sri Lim Goh Tong to do his rounds around Genting Highlands every Sunday, rain or shine.

But there was much to learn from the Old Man, as we fondly or cynically referred to him behind his back.

On one occasion, he obviously noticed my awkwardness in squatting with the workers when we were discussing some technical issues. I remember he advised, “You must learn how to sip champagne when you are with the prime minister; and with the workers, you must learn to squat.”

I also remember the visit by Wu Yi (吴仪), who was China’s Minister of Foreign Economic Relations and Trade, to Kuala Lumpur. I was asked by Tan Sri Lim to accompany him when she invited him to see her at Kuala Lumpur Hilton. Before he jumped into his car, I noticed that he had taken the trouble to look at himself in a small mirror several times.

These two lessons themselves speak volumes!

What I am going to write is not intended to criticise fellow Chinese. It is about learning.

Throughout my life I have been fortunate to live, work and travel in many countries. Every journey has taught me something – not only about the societies I visited, but also about my own.

As Chinese, we inherit one of the world's oldest and richest civilisations. We rightly take pride in its achievements, its philosophy, its literature and its emphasis on learning, family and perseverance. Yet pride should never prevent reflection.

Indeed, one of the greatest strengths of Chinese civilisation has always been its willingness to learn from others. Buddhism came from India. Modern science reached us largely from the West. Even within China, countless local traditions have enriched one another over thousands of years.

Learning has never weakened Chinese civilisation.

During my travels, I have often observed small acts of courtesy that left lasting impressions: a stranger quietly holding a door open; passengers instinctively forming orderly queues; public spaces kept remarkably clean by people who never expected praise for doing so.

I have also observed habits among my fellow Chinese that, in my opinion, deserve reconsideration – not because they are uniquely Chinese, but because they sometimes reinforce unfortunate stereotypes that fail to reflect the dignity of our civilisation.

That is why I have chosen to title this essay Learn to Learn. It is inspired by the old Chinese saying, 活到老，学到老 - learn for as long as you live. If these pages encourage readers to become a little more thoughtful, a little more considerate, and a little more willing to learn from the world around them, then I shall consider the effort worthwhile.

From head to toes
We simply need to be neat.

Many Chinese leaders before Xi Jinping seemed fond of what we Malaysians used to call "ICI[1] hair" – so uniformly dyed that the colour appeared almost painted on. There is, of course, nothing wrong with colouring one's hair. But dye alone rarely makes us look younger. A neat haircut, appropriate to one's age and profession, usually creates a much better impression.

The same applies to eyebrows, sideburns and facial hair. Ditto our nostril hair. (Traditional Chinese culture often associates long eyebrows with wisdom and longevity. I have no quarrel with that belief. But wisdom need not be untidy.)

A neatly kept moustache or beard can look elegant. However, a neglected one looks like a wild bush.

We often imagine that people notice the big things – our suits, our watches or the cars we drive. In reality, they also notice the little things – a pair of spectacles with greasy lenses. Others are: dandruff, food trapped between the teeth, untrimmed fingernails, or a comb sticking conspicuously out of a shirt pocket like a thumb.

I am guilty of many of these things too. If we expect others to look us in the eye during a conversation, we should spare them unnecessary distractions.

Likewise, habits such as picking one's nose, cleaning one's ears or removing food from between one's teeth may sometimes be unavoidable. But they are private acts best carried out in wash rooms or private corners.

By all means wear your Bally shoes, your Rolex watch and your designer shirt – but not for conspicuous display. Choose colours that suit

Fresh breath and a pleasant smile are small but meaningful ways of showing respect for ourselves and for those we meet.

Living considerately with others
Every day we share public spaces with strangers – on pavements, in airports, railway stations, lifts, shopping centres, restaurants and parks. Most of us neither know nor will ever meet these people again. Yet for a few brief moments our lives intersect. Whether those moments are pleasant or unpleasant depends largely on how considerate we are.

One of the easiest ways to assess a society is simply to watch how people behave in public.

Do motorists stop for pedestrians especially when they have the right of way? Do they signal when they make a turn?

Do passengers queue patiently? Do they leave public toilets clean for the next person?

(One incident has remained in my mind for many years. Many years ago, I was waiting to check in at Fuzhou Airport when a man arrived later and headed straight to the counter to be served. Nobody seemed particularly bothered. I was.

I politely reminded him that even a nán-mǎn (南蠻) like me – a barbarian from the south knew that queues existed for a reason. Why couldn't he observe the same courtesy?

He looked rather embarrassed. After muttering something under his breath, he reluctantly returned to the back of the queue.

I have often recalled that small incident. But, of course, this happened many years ago. I have not encountered such behaviour anymore. However, I did notice some anxious travellers trying to cut in line to resolve their ticketing issues. That is perhaps more excusable.)

A queue is about much more than waiting one's turn. That, surely, is one mark of a civilised society.

Don't become an obstacle
Over the years I have noticed another habit.

Friends unexpectedly meet in a shopping centre. They stop immediately to chat – in the middle of the walkway. Families step off an escalator and come to a complete halt while deciding where to go next, oblivious to the people piling up behind them. Tour groups gather at entrances precisely where everyone else is trying to enter or leave.

Most of these people are not rude. They are simply unaware.

Courtesy often begins with awareness. If we wish to stop and talk, step to one side.

If we want to admire a shop window, leave room for others to pass. If local custom requires standing on one side of an escalator, observe it.

These things cost nothing. Yet they make life more pleasant for everyone.

Offer our seat to those who need it more
In airports, train stations and other public places, I often see able-bodied people occupying seats clearly meant for the elderly, people with disabilities, pregnant women or those who are simply in greater need.

Such seats are not reserved by accident. They exist because a civilised society recognises that some people need a little more consideration than others.

If we are able-bodied and comfortable standing, we should offer the seat without waiting to be asked.

Courtesy is not demonstrated only in grand gestures. Very often, it is shown in small acts of awareness. Do show that you care.

Mind our voice
Chinese are, by nature, expressive people. We enjoy animated conversations.

We laugh heartily. We speak with enthusiasm.

There is nothing wrong with that. The difficulty arises when we forget that we are not the only people occupying the space.

One often encounters groups of compatriots in hotel lobbies, airports or restaurants talking as though nobody else exists. They compete to outdo one another, each speaking a little louder than the last.

What sounds perfectly normal within the group can become surprisingly intrusive to everyone outside it.

Good manners require us to remain conscious of those who are not participating in our conversation.

The volume of our voice is, in a sense, another form of consideration.

Hygiene Is also courtesy
There are certain personal habits that affect not only ourselves but everyone around us.

Cover your mouth if you are coughing persistently. Repeated throat-clearing, blowing one's nose loudly during a meal and spitting on the pavement are disgusting.

Strong body odour, bad breath, and the likes are things friends are usually too polite to tell you. And strangers simply form an impression.

Many of these problems can be reduced through simple hygiene or appropriate medical attention. Some cannot be avoided altogether. When they cannot, discretion becomes even more important.

A handkerchief or tissue has saved many people unnecessary embarrassment.

So has the simple habit of excusing oneself briefly.

Good hygiene is not merely about cleanliness. It is another way of showing respect for others.

Small courtesies make great societies
Civilisation is built one courtesy at a time - someone holds a door open; another says "thank you."; a stranger gives way; wait for people to leave the lift before stepping in; a motorist allows another car to merge; someone quietly picks up a piece of litter.

Collectively, they define a society. The same principle applies to us as individuals. As I have grown older, I have become increasingly convinced that character reveals itself in small things.

Dining etiquette
One can tell a great deal about a person by watching him at the dining table.

Meals are occasions for friendship, hospitality and conversation. Business relationships have been forged over meals. Families have settled differences around the dining table. Lifelong friendships have often begun with nothing more than an invitation to lunch.

The Chinese, fortunately, understand hospitality very well. We enjoy entertaining friends, and few cultures can match the generosity of a Chinese banquet.

Yet generosity and good manners are not always the same thing.

The first duty of a host is to make guests feel comfortable. Receive our guests warmly. If they do not know one another, introduce them. If the restaurant has an attractive view or there is entertainment, give your guests the better position.

A good host thinks about his guests before thinking about himself.

I have attended dinners where every dish was expensive, yet the atmosphere was awkward. I have also attended simple meals where everyone left smiling.

The difference was never the food. It was the host.

The table is shared
The dining table is one place where consideration for others becomes immediately visible.

Avoid talking while chewing.

Try not to wave your chopsticks while making a point.

If you need to cough or sneeze, excuse yourself.

If food becomes lodged between your teeth, resist the temptation to perform dental surgery in front of everyone. The restroom was invented for precisely such purposes.

These are hardly profound lessons.

Yet they contribute greatly to the comfort of those sharing the meal.

Good table manners are less about elegance than about consideration.

A few words about chopsticks

Chinese have used chopsticks for thousands of years. Strangely enough, many of us still handle them rather badly.

One habit I have never quite understood is the tendency to rummage through a communal dish in search of the very best piece, rather like a prospector panning for gold.

Decide what you want before reaching in. Pick it up neatly.

If you accidentally drop something on the floor, pick it up with a tissue and place it out of sight.

Likewise, when you pause during a meal, place your chopsticks on the chopstick rest, or neatly beside your bowl. They need not remain permanently attached to your fingers.

If serving utensils are available, use them. If they are not, common sense should prevail. It is consideration for everyone sharing the meal.

And don’t use chopsticks to point at people!

Respect your guests' preferences
One of the pleasures of Chinese dining is encouraging guests to sample different dishes. There is, however, a fine line between encouragement and insistence.

Some people do not drink alcohol. Others avoid certain foods for religious, cultural, medical or personal reasons. Muslim guests do not take pork, and many also avoid amphibious creatures or food that may not be halal. Hindus do not take beef. Vegetarians avoid meat and may take only vegetables, fruits and other plant-based food. Some guests may also avoid seafood, alcohol or raw food for health reasons.

A good host should find out discreetly beforehand, not after the dishes have arrived at the table.

Hospitality should never place guests in an awkward position.

One should never hear, "Just one more glass!" or "Surely you can eat this!" after a guest has politely declined.

Courtesy sometimes means accepting "No" gracefully.

To those who serve us
Good service deserves appreciation. A sincere "thank you" is always welcome.

However, friendliness should never be mistaken for an invitation to become overly familiar.

I have occasionally seen diners flirt excessively with waitresses or waiters, make personal remarks about their appearance, or prolong conversations when staff are clearly trying to attend to other customers.

Such behaviour is unfair to those who are simply carrying out their duties. It may also cause embarrassment to everyone at the table.

Courtesy requires us to recognise the difference between warmth and familiarity. Treat those who serve us with the same respect we would wish members of our own family to receive in their workplace.

Train your staff
People almost always remember how they were treated. Good service is therefore not simply a commercial skill.

Were your guests greeted warmly? Did someone genuinely listen? Did anyone make them feel welcome?

Does the guest need a personal spoon to enjoy his bowl or soup or fried rice? Or is there a common spoon or a pair of chopsticks for each dish? Or a separate serve of soya sauce for each guest? 

The best waiter notices your empty glass before you ask for another drink. And be vigilant for beckons for assistance or service. Tunnel vision is one of the quickest ways to frustrate customers.

It is anticipation. It comes from paying attention.

(I often find these lacking even in pretty high-end Chinese restaurants in Melbourne. Maybe most of them are casual workers. Training begins with the owners or captains!)

Managers often believe that leadership consists of writing procedures, issuing instructions and conducting meetings. But they are not enough.

Staff observe their leaders every day. If a manager greets customers warmly, the staff are more likely to do likewise.

Learning from the world
There is an old Chinese saying: 三人行，必有我师焉 - "If three people walk together, one of them is surely capable of being my teacher." Confucius understood, more than two thousand years ago, that wisdom is not the monopoly of any one individual. Nor, I would add, is it the monopoly of any one civilisation.

A civilisation that is truly confident has nothing to fear from observing the strengths of others.

There is no perfect nation. Nor is there a perfect people. Every society also has habits that could be improved.

The Japanese have earned worldwide respect for their cleanliness, orderliness and consideration in public places. Many Europeans have shown remarkable commitment to preserving their historical buildings, parks and public spaces.

Chinese civilisation, in turn, has always attached enormous importance to family, education, hard work and perseverance.

Surely the wiser question is not, "Which civilisation is superior?" but, "What can we learn from one another?"

From the places of worship…
One of my favourite places to visit in any country is its places of worship.

I am fascinated not only by their architecture but also by the atmosphere they create. Walking into a great cathedral in Europe, one is often struck by the silence. Even visitors who are not Christians instinctively lower their voices. The building itself seems to command reverence.

Japanese temples leave a rather different impression. Their beauty lies not in grandeur but in simplicity. Everything appears carefully maintained – the gardens, the timber and the pathways. Even the silence seems deliberate.

Chinese temples are different again. They are colourful, lively and rich in symbolism. For millions of worshippers they remain places of sincere devotion. Yet I have often wondered whether we might also borrow something from the serenity one finds elsewhere.

A place of worship should inspire not only admiration but also quiet reflection.

Learning from another culture does not diminish our own. It enriches it.

Lessons from cemeteries
The same thought has often crossed my mind while walking through cemeteries.

Many European cemeteries resemble peaceful gardens. People visit not only to remember the dead but also to enjoy the tranquility. They are places of reflection rather than fear.

If we spend so much effort honouring them during festivals, should we not also care for the places where they rest throughout the year?

How we treat the dead tells us something about how we value memory itself.

(That said, this is changing, at least in Malaysia. Bereavement services have become a significant industry, and many modern memorial parks are beautifully landscaped and meticulously maintained. They offer families a peaceful and dignified environment in which to remember their loved ones.)

Learning Is a sign of confidence
Some people believe that adopting good habits from another culture somehow weakens their own identity. I believe exactly the opposite. The confident person learns freely because he knows who he is.

The same is true of nations. The strongest civilisations have never been those that isolated themselves from the world. They were the ones confident enough to absorb new ideas while remaining true to their own values.

Chinese civilisation has survived for thousands of years precisely because it has always possessed that confidence. May it never lose it.

Arrogance Is Kurang Ajar
The last point I wish to make concerns a habit that I commonly come across – the tendency to dismiss the views of parents, relatives or friends simply because we think we know better.

I was once guilty of this myself.

When I was young, I often brushed aside my father's Daoist practices, believing them to be old-fashioned and superstitious. I thought I was being rational and modern. Looking back, I realise how foolish I was. In doing so, I not only hurt him but also failed to appreciate the logic, wisdom and accumulated experience embedded in many of those traditions.

Life has a way of teaching us humility.

Today, one of my grandsons often tells me that some of my views or habits are “not cool”. I smile to myself, because I recognise the same youthful confidence that I once displayed towards my own father. History, it seems, has come full circle. I understand his mindset and am content to let him discover, in his own time, that age and experience have lessons that books alone cannot teach.

This, I believe, is where we as parents and grandparents have an important responsibility. We should encourage our children to be confident, but never arrogant. Success in life can easily breed conceit. Humility, on the other hand, allows us to keep learning. It reminds us that no matter how educated or accomplished we become, there is always something to learn from those who have walked the path before us.

The Malays and Indonesians have a wonderfully expressive phrase – kurang ajar. Literally, it means "insufficiently taught," but it is better understood as describing someone who is lacking in good upbringing. It is not simply about being rude; it is about failing to show respect, courtesy and humility towards others.

In my view, arrogance is perhaps the clearest manifestation of kurang ajar.

Bottom of Form

Conclusion
Good manners are not Western. They are not Eastern. They are not Chinese. Nor are they Japanese, European or American.

They are simply expressions of respect. Respect for ourselves. Respect for other people. Respect for society. Everything else is simply the outward expression of that respect.

Perhaps that is why one old Chinese saying has remained with me throughout my life:

活到老，学到老。

Learn for as long as you live.

I can think of no better advice—not only for individuals, but also for nations and civilisations.

End

 

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[1] Imperial Chemical Company, once one of the largest paint manufacturers in the world.

Malaysia's Frenzied Politics

 

Readers may have noticed that I seldom write about Malaysian politics, even though I am Malaysian. Strange, isn't it?

I am certainly not short of opinions. Like most Malaysians, I have views on almost everything that goes on in the country. Yet I have always been cautious about expressing them publicly.

The reason is simple. Much of Malaysian politics revolves around three highly sensitive subjects — Race, Religion, and Royalty, commonly referred to as the 3Rs. For a non-Malay like me, all three are areas best approached with great care. At this stage of my life, I have little desire to attract the attention of the authorities. I have long accepted the reality of an affirmative-action framework that has existed since the events of May 1969. Fortunately, the limitations associated with that framework have not materially affected the way my wife and I live.

Yet the present state of politics in Malaysia is compelling enough to make me put pen to paper.

My purpose is not to lament the political or economic disadvantages faced by non-Bumiputeras. Those realities have existed for decades, and there is little that ordinary citizens can do to alter them. Regardless of which coalition forms the government, non-Bumiputeras have largely learned to accommodate themselves to this political landscape.

There were, however, two occasions when many of us allowed ourselves to hope.

The first came when Mahathir Mohamad returned for a second term as Prime Minister. It appeared, briefly, that his final chapter in public life might be different from the earlier ones. Yet it did not take long for familiar patterns to re-emerge. Before long, Malaysia seemed to have returned to square one — perhaps in an even more complicated position than before.

The second moment of hope arrived with Anwar Ibrahim's ascension as Prime Minister of the Unity Government. Internationally, Anwar enjoys considerable stature and respect. Domestically, however, the picture is less flattering. While his administration has recorded some achievements, public enthusiasm appears to be waning. His support among Malay voters remains particularly fragile.

His response has largely been to offer additional incentives and benefits to key constituencies. Yet the strategy does not appear to have reversed the trend. Even Rafizi Ramli, once regarded as his political heir apparent and one of PKR's most prominent leaders, has chosen to chart his own course – with the formation of Bersama.

Looking back, perhaps I should not have placed so much faith in either of these developments. I have long understood the political instincts and core values of both Mahathir and Anwar. Yet hope has a curious way of persuading us to suspend our better judgement.

Today, Malaysia's political landscape is characterised by intense, chaotic, and often unpredictable maneuvering. It is politics conducted at a feverish pace, with shifting alliances, competing ambitions, and constant speculation. For want of a better term, I call it Frenzied Politics.

The most visible manifestation of this frenzy has been the sudden dissolution of two state assemblies – Johor and Negeri Sembilan – and the prospect of more fresh electoral contests, including the federal Parliament. Such developments thrust the country once again into a period of campaigning, bargaining, and uncertainty.

The circumstances behind these events are well known to Malaysians and need little elaboration here. More worrying is what they reveal about the fragility of the post-2022 political settlement.

The cracks are becoming increasingly visible.

In Johor, Barisan Nasional (BN) has signaled its determination to contest the state election independently rather than continue its uneasy cooperation with Pakatan Harapan. Its leaders remain convinced that Johor Malays will stay loyal to UMNO, given the party's deep historical roots in the state. (Stop press: one of its kingpins – apparently driven by personal issues – has just thrown a spanner into the works. How this will ultimately play out promises to be an interesting story.)

In Negeri Sembilan, political rivalries have become intertwined with tensions involving the state's traditional institutions and competing centres of influence. (Few ordinary mortals like me know the true cause of the rift between the ruler and the chieftains, although many would agree that the royal family has always conducted itself with great dignity. The challenge of upholding tradition while exercising sound judgement has become something of a paradox.) Beneath the surface lies a broader struggle for power among the political parties. UMNO, despite being a partner in the governing coalition, has viewed the situation as an opportunity to upset the status quo and capture the Menteri Besar's office. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on one's perspective, that ambition was thwarted by the dissolution of the state assembly.

Strangely, the opposition is also in a turmoil.

Perikatan Nasional faces its own internal tensions. Relationships among its constituent parties have become increasingly complicated, raising questions about the coalition's long-term cohesion. Splinter groups and new political formations – significantly Wawasan – are emerging, adding further uncertainty to an already crowded political landscape.

The result is a political environment where almost everyone appears to be maneuvering, but few seem capable of offering a convincing long-term vision for the country.

A Campaign of Noise and Identity Politics
Whenever politicians enter campaign mode, public discourse becomes dominated by slogans, accusations, and emotional appeals. Identity politics once again takes centre stage. Historical grievances are revived, old fears are rekindled, and voters are encouraged to focus on who they are rather than where the country is heading.

Meanwhile, structural economic challenges receive far less attention than they deserve.

The contests unfolding in Johor and Negeri Sembilan illustrate this tendency. Much of the political competition is being framed in terms of which party can better defend the Malay-Muslim agenda. For many Bumiputeras, this debate offers reassurance that their interests will remain protected regardless of who forms the government.

For non-Malays, however, the picture is rather different. The continued dominance of identity-based politics reinforces the perception that national issues are too often viewed through a communal lens.

Malaysians are, in a sense, spoilt for choice.

Peninsular Malay voters can choose among UMNO, PKR, Bersatu, PAS, Amanah, and Wawasan. Chinese voters continue to weigh the competing claims of DAP and MCA. Those less inclined towards race-based politics have alternatives such as MUDA and Bersama and other even smaller movements.

Yet one cannot help asking: is this abundance of choice truly a privilege, or has it become a curse?

The multiplication of parties has not necessarily produced better governance, stronger institutions, or a more coherent national vision. Instead, it has often resulted in fragmentation, shifting loyalties, and endless political bargaining.

Perhaps the greatest casualty has been public confidence itself.

Rent-Seeking and the Entitlement Mindset

What, then, is Malaysia's greatest challenge?

In my view, it lies not only in policy failures but also in the way we think about race, religion, and politics. Too often, especially among non-Malays, there is a tendency to strive to be seen as "politically correct" on these sensitive issues, even when doing so may not necessarily serve the country's long-term interests. Such attitudes are symptoms of deeper structural problems.

One of those problems is the culture of rent-seeking that has become deeply embedded in parts of society.

Almost every week, newspapers report fresh cases of public officials being arrested on corruption charges. The sums involved are no longer modest percentages quietly exchanged behind closed doors. They now run into hundreds of thousands – sometimes even millions – of ringgit.

Whenever I read such reports, I find myself asking the same question: how does one spend so much money?

The answer came to me unexpectedly during a recent visit to Genting Highlands.

It had been many years since my previous trip. My university mate, Leong Yue Peng, lives in nearby Bukit Tinggi, and my wife and I decided to make the journey partly to visit him and partly to revisit what remains one of the most remarkable entrepreneurial legacies left by one of my former bosses in Malaysia.

The first thing that struck me was how unfamiliar everything had become. Roads that I once knew had been rerouted and widened. New developments had transformed the landscape. There is now even a toll gate for vehicles entering the resort. At times, I could scarcely recognise where I was.

As gambling has never held any attraction for me, I had no intention of entering the casino. Instead, we stopped at the duty-free shopping complex halfway up the hill.

There, I witnessed a scene that stayed with me.

A middle-aged man, accompanied by his family, moved effortlessly from counter to counter, purchasing luxury goods with remarkable ease. Expensive items were selected without so much as a glance at the price tags. Money appeared to be no object.

There was, of course, nothing inherently wrong with that. Those who have worked hard and succeeded are fully entitled to enjoy the fruits of their labour.

Yet something about the man's demeanour intrigued me. His appearance, mannerisms, and bearing did not suggest someone who had built a large business empire or climbed to the top of a major corporation. Having encountered more than my fair share of rent-seekers during my professional life, I found myself wondering whether this was the sort of conspicuous consumption that easy money often encourages. I may well have been mistaken about the individual, but the episode reminded me of a broader truth.

Corruption is not merely about money; it is about attitudes. It fosters the belief that wealth can be acquired without creating corresponding value. Over time, that mindset corrodes institutions, distorts incentives, weakens meritocracy, and normalises entitlement.

The greatest damage caused by corruption is therefore not the money that is stolen. It is the culture that it leaves behind.

There is an old piece of conventional wisdom often heard in Chinese communities: corruption exists everywhere, but what ultimately distinguishes societies is what happens to the proceeds. Some use ill-gotten wealth to build businesses, create assets, and leave something behind; others consume it conspicuously. Whether or not this observation is entirely fair, it reminds us that the long-term consequences of corruption extend far beyond the initial act itself.

The Politics of Dependency
Closely related to rent-seeking is another challenge that Malaysia has wrestled with for decades — the politics of dependency.

Subsidies are politically attractive. They provide immediate relief, generate goodwill, and often translate into votes. Every government understands this.

The difficulty arises when temporary assistance evolves into a permanent expectation.

A society progresses when its citizens are encouraged to overcome obstacles through effort, education, innovation, and enterprise. Excessive reliance on subsidies can weaken those instincts. Instead of helping people climb, it may encourage them to remain where they are.

This is not an argument against helping the disadvantaged. Every civilised society has a responsibility to support those who genuinely need assistance.

The real question is whether public policy empowers people to become self-reliant or merely conditions them to depend on continued support.

That distinction is often overlooked in Malaysian politics.

A Fatal Attraction
The role of royalty in Malaysian public life presents another uniquely Malaysian dilemma.

Royals, after all, are human beings. They possess opinions, preferences, and convictions like everyone else. Some are highly educated and intellectually engaged. It is therefore unsurprising that they occasionally feel compelled to comment on matters of public importance.

Recent remarks by a senior member of one of the royal houses concerning the Federal Government provide one example.

The difficulty is that constitutional monarchies operate on delicate conventions. While members of the royal houses may possess every right to hold opinions, public expressions of those opinions can easily be viewed as seditious by the authorities.

When governments are strong, such tensions are usually managed quietly. When governments are politically vulnerable, the situation becomes far more complicated.

Ideally, constitutional principles should apply consistently. If members of the royal institution are able to comment on public policies, citizens should likewise be free to discuss royal actions and decisions, provided they do so respectfully and without malicious intent.

The issue is not the expression of views itself. The issue is whether different standards apply to different groups of people.

A mature constitutional monarchy should have sufficient confidence to tolerate respectful scrutiny, just as democratic governments are expected to tolerate criticism from citizens.

The challenge lies not with the institution itself but with the willingness of executive branch of the government to uphold these principles fairly and consistently.

Thriving despite politics
Whether we like it or not, Malaysia's political reality remains largely unchanged.

A Malay-majority party, or coalition of Malay-majority parties, will continue to dominate national politics for the foreseeable future. Non-Bumiputera communities therefore have limited influence over the broader direction of political power.

What they can reasonably hope for is leadership that governs fairly, pragmatically, and with a long-term view of national development.

Unfortunately, I am not particularly optimistic.

The Malaysian Indian community faces its own challenges, including a significant gap between rich and poor. My understanding of Indian political dynamics is limited, and I shall leave that discussion to others.

As for the Chinese community, the choices are familiar. DAP and MCA continue to dominate the political landscape, yet many Chinese voters regard both as variations of the same dilemma rather than genuine alternatives.

The reality is that Malaysia's non-Bumiputera population, though only about thirty per cent of the total, remains economically significant. Politically, however, its influence is likely to diminish gradually as demographic trends continue to evolve.

The more perceptive members of the community have already recognised this reality.

Their response is not political mobilisation but personal advancement.

If one is not born into wealth, there remains only one reliable path upward: education, discipline, skills, and knowledge. These are assets that no government can easily take away and no political change can readily diminish.

In an increasingly competitive world, remaining relevant requires constant adaptation. Communities that understand this will continue to thrive regardless of political circumstances.

Those that do not may eventually discover that political grievances are a poor substitute for personal capability.

That, more than any election result, will determine who remains at the top of the food chain.

Remember Steadyaku47?
Frenzied politics also produces unconventional commentators. Few embodied that phenomenon better than Steadyaku47.

His real name was Hussein Abdul Hamid, and for a time he was among Malaysia's most widely read political bloggers. Depending on whom one asked, he was either a fearless truth-teller or an irresponsible provocateur. Like many influential figures, he inspired admiration and criticism in equal measure.

Hussein has since passed away.

He belonged to a generation of bloggers who emerged when many Malaysians were losing confidence in the traditional media. Long before social media became dominant, writers like him challenged official narratives, exposed political intrigues, and offered alternative perspectives on events unfolding behind the scenes. His writing was rarely polished in an academic sense. It was personal, direct, occasionally emotional, and often filled with insider gossip. Yet that was precisely why so many people read him.

My memories of Hussein, however, are less political than personal.

I cannot remember who first introduced us, but I vividly remember our first meeting over a simple meal in Melbourne. At the time, he was going through financial difficulties and confided that he lacked the means to give his late wife the farewell she deserved. The remark stayed with me, and I did what little I could to help raise some money. That marked the beginning of a friendship that lasted several years.

When Anwar Ibrahim eventually became Prime Minister and Hussein was told that he could return to Malaysia without concern, I once again helped raise some funds to support his airfare and living expenses during his stay in Kuala Lumpur.

What I appreciated most about Hussein was his authenticity. Whether one agreed with him or not, he rarely pretended to be someone he was not. We occasionally disagreed – particularly over some of the language he used when writing about members of the royal houses. I felt it was unnecessarily provocative and ventured into potentially seditious territory. He would listen, although whether he agreed was another matter.

Through Hussein, I also came to know several of his Malay College Kuala Kangsar contemporaries, including Joe Kamaruzzaman and Tan Sri Azman Mokhtar. Those friendships later led to other acquaintances and acts of kindness that I continue to value. 

As the years pass, I find myself thinking less about Hussein the political blogger and more about Hussein the friend.

History will judge how much influence Steadyaku47 had on Malaysian politics. My own view is that his greatest contribution was not changing government policy but helping create an environment where alternative viewpoints could circulate more freely. He was part of a broader movement that weakened the monopoly of traditional media and contributed, in its own way, to Malaysia's political awakening.

Whether one admired him or disliked him, he left a mark. And perhaps that is all any writer can hope to do.

Conclusion
Malaysia remains, and is likely to remain for some time, a country where race continues to shape politics. Whether that changes will depend not merely on politicians but on citizens themselves.

We often speak of waiting for another Tunku Abdul Rahman — a leader with the stature and confidence to look beyond communal boundaries and govern for all Malaysians. Such leaders are rare. At present, I do not see one on the horizon.

Yet countries are not built by great leaders alone. They are also shaped by ordinary citizens, entrepreneurs, teachers, civil servants, workers, and parents who continue to do the right thing even when politics disappoints them.

For all our frustrations, Malaysia remains an extraordinarily blessed country. We enjoy a richness of culture, resources, food, and human talent that many nations can only envy.

Politics may continue to be frenzied. Governments may rise and fall. Coalitions may form and fracture.

In the meantime, life goes on.

And perhaps that is the most Malaysian thing of all.

End

 

Modern Cars – Some Misplaced Concepts in New Designs

China is storming the world with its EVs and PHEVs. There are rave reviews about their comfort and performance. I have sat in several of them, but I have yet to drive one myself. My son-in-law, who is in the petrol pump business, understandably does not prioritize buying an EV.

However, he finally bought two: a Lexus LBX hybrid for the family to use and a Fiat Abarth, which is totally EV, for Monica.

Certainly sexy, but can be silly 

We do not give high scores to either. In the case of the Lexus LBX, my grandson was once locked inside the car when the battery failed. And I still cannot understand why you need to pull the door lever twice to open it. Imagine if it is an emergency and the car is new to you! It is undeniably a small car, but anyone with a normal pair of legs will find the rear legroom absolutely torturing!

As for the Abarth, I can only conclude that it is very much a toy. Its range is only about 250km. Two things are particularly annoying: first, there is no gear stick; you have to bend over to press the buttons below the middle of the dashboard to engage D, N, R, or P. Just imagine how flustered you can be when you are trying to change course at a busy junction. The positioning does not allow you to operate these gears intuitively, as we do with normal systems. You literally have to look at the panel to make the change! And unless you are buckled up, you cannot move the car at all. Imagine the inconvenience when you need to move the car just a few feet momentarily.

All this brings me to a memory from years ago. The first car I bought when I joined the workforce was a Toyota Corolla. It cost me around MYR 6,600 then. It was all I could afford on hire-purchase terms. One day, a university mate who happened to be visiting my brother-in-law (who lived next door) decided to drop by my place. He saw my car, gave its tyre a kick, and scornfully remarked, "Japanese car." It's an incident I have remembered all my life.

He was an Esso scholar and was employed by the company after graduating. I worked for MIDA (then FIDA), earning a salary of MYR 1,040 per month, which was not too bad by the standards of the day.

(Interestingly, I had also been offered a job by Sembawang Shipyard in Singapore at a salary of SGD 750—back when the MYR and SGD were at parity. I declined the offer, perhaps shortsightedly, for reasons that seemed sensible at the time.)

But Esso paid much more—something like MYR 2,500 per month, almost double mine. He, like my brother-in-law (also an Esso scholar and then a colleague at the company), had picked up a Fiat 127 (or a Fiat 128, I cannot quite recall) instead. The car cost a couple of hundred ringgit more, maybe around MYR 7,300.

Certainly, Fiat was then considered a step above Toyota. Hence, his scorn at his poor university mate's affordability.

But Fiat today is no longer the Fiat of yesteryear. Today, the Fiat brand, along with many other famous Italian and international marques, is part of a massive corporation called Stellantis. Stellantis was formed in 2021 from the merger of Fiat Chrysler Automobiles (FCA) and the French PSA Group.

The list of car brands currently under the same corporate umbrella is extensive. Based on Stellantis's official brand portfolio, here are some of the other Italian and international brands you might be thinking of:

• Italian Brands: Alfa Romeo, Maserati, and Lancia are all part of the Stellantis group today. Abarth, Fiat's performance sub-brand, is also included.
• International Brands: The group also owns major American (Chrysler, Dodge, Jeep, Ram), French (Citroën, Peugeot, DS Automobiles), and German (Opel) brands, among others.

Ferrari's history is also deeply intertwined with Fiat. Fiat began buying into Ferrari in 1969 and eventually held a 90% stake. However, this is no longer the case. In 2016, Fiat spun off Ferrari, and the company became an independent, publicly traded entity on the stock market.

Today, while no longer owned by Fiat, Ferrari's ownership still has an Italian flavour:

• The largest single shareholder is Exor N.V., an investment company controlled by the Agnelli family, the founders of Fiat.
• Piero Ferrari, Enzo Ferrari's son, also retains a significant personal stake.
• The majority of the company is owned by public shareholders.

But while the Chinese are making huge progress in EV and PHEV technology, the experience I had with the Abarth tells me that some designers are not wearing their thinking caps anymore. Ditto Toyota with its Lexus LBX.

I use a Mercedes-Benz C200. Its gear selector lever is on the right side of the steering wheel. When I first used it, I often found myself instinctively reaching for it whenever I wanted to signal a turn. Each time I accidentally knocked it into reverse for left turns, I would worry that I had just damaged the gearbox. It wasn't until I learned about the electronic safety lockout that my anxiety faded; the system is apparently programmed to simply ignore the command if the car is moving forward. Maybe Fiat is trying to introduce a new concept? Well, common sense tells me that sounds like a rather silly idea."

Riding in a Hong Qi in Xiamen recently

Nonetheless,
while despite their prices, Chinese makes are generally great in terms of features, luxury and performance, I am still not entirely comfortable with the loudness of their styling and the flamboyance of their names. But this is largely a matter of personal taste and opinion.

End