In Primary Two, when the teacher asked the class to write our career choice, I remember vividly approximately 95 per cent of the male respondents had written down the police as one of the top three choices. It is a natural response given that my generation grew up with visions of police officers such as Erik Estrada of Chips and Don Johnson of Miami Vice as heroes that often saved the day.
The choice is further justified when we examine the historical contribution of the Royal Police force in nation building. As one of the oldest institutions in Malaysia (it has been around since days of Malacca under the purview of the Temenggong), heroic acts during the era of the communist insurgence as immortalised in the Bukit Kepong Incident is a clear indication of the extent of sacrifices and servitude of the personnel of the force to the country. The force also provided stability in times of great uncertainty when the air of Malaysia was laced with racial tension.
Within a few decades, I am burdened with the feeling that this has changed. Of late, the Malaysian police force has been tainted and labelled with extremely negative connotations. The swiftness of the change is nothing short of remarkable. Numerous incidents such as the video lock up incident, revelations of drama behind the bars, lack of independence, stories of rampant bribery and allegations of abuse of power in public demonstrations has eroded public confidence considerably.
Many perceive it to be an isolated institution that no longer possesses proximity with the public’s expectations or relevancy with its everyday lives.
Is it rational to describe an entire institution based on a few anecdotes and events? How about the good police officers? Like many other public service organisations, their greatest contribution remains unseen. The nights your house didn’t get broken into because they made their rounds, the driver that chose to follow the speed limit because of police presence, the safety of our borders. Who sings their praises?
It is not just a job. A son of a police officer I know related how he and his family had to frequently move because of his father’s postings. He particularly remembers his father being posted to a remote area in Pahang, way off Seremban where he is from. The station had no electricity, powered only by a generator. Family took a backseat because his father had to make rounds at nights. Asked what he remembers the most, his answer was experiencing Hari Raya festivities away from his extended family. That is the price of the sacrifice that had to be paid by the officer and his family.
Like most Malaysians, I am for a better police force, a more just and independent institution as recommended in the Independent Police Complaints and Misconduct Commission (IPCMC). Other ideas include strengthening the force with a Police Complaints Bureau and an Accountability Committee with lay members must also be debated.
In fact, I believe that there should be a School for Royal Military Police, a boarding school to train the best and brightest at an early age. The syllabus should not only focus on academics and discipline but also highlight the importance of the ethical responsibilities to the citizens of Malaysia. These structural problems are not going to be solved overnight, but the onus is on us to make a start.
To meet all our expectations, we must also study the remuneration structure and increase the credibility of the force. Police recruitment in UK features the tag line; Could you? I believe it encapsulates the commitment, and sacrifice; and puts the work of a police officer in perspective. Like the tiger head in the insignia that represents the courage, strength and spirit of the police force.
I admit I use the police to instil discipline in my son. “If you misbehave, Papa will call the policeman”. I am afraid, like many Malaysians, I am sending the wrong message of what the force really stands for. When he reaches Primary Two, I want him to be able to slot in policeman as one of his career choices.
18.7.08
In the Ring > Crossing the Invisible Line
I AM usually on auto-pilot in the morning. Thus, when I left the house on Monday morning, I had expected it to be a routine ritual. But when I took the turn off to the Federal Highway, I found myself smack in a jam that lasted for more than an hour.
Part of a compromise package to share the household duties with my wife is that I send our son to school every morning.
What wasn’t reckoned for was the hardship clause – like this one-hour jam for a trip that usually takes 20 minutes. I should have remembered – but could I even have foreseen – the probable effects of police roadblocks leading to the city.
My increasingly irritated two-year-old kept asking the question that I could not answer, “Why so long, Papa?” It wasn’t too long ago that such a situation was unimaginable. I feel the Malaysian political landscape has taken such a turn for the worse that it is unrecognisable from only a few months ago. The never-ending drama and the unpredictable nature of contemporary politics is covered minute-by-minute in all the media, be it mainstream or alternative.
However, an individual can choose to swamp himself or to ignore the latest political hullabaloo. Not everyone is politically inclined.
How involved or interested one is in this arena is a personal choice.
It does not make you less of a Malaysian if you read the business or sports sections first (or only those sections for that matter).
It is only an indication of preference and interest.
But on Monday, the unnecessary traffic jam was clear indication that politics had crossed the invisible line, trespassing into our everyday lives. People missed presentations, clients were kept waiting and, of course, restless children were sent late to school.
On a broader scale, many analysts have commented that the current political scenario has left adverse impacts on investments and the performance of the stock market. Granted, it is a global problem and other regional stock markets are also affected by rising inflation and lacklustre growth.
However, our country is now burdened with an additional risk element never seen before – political risk.
Numerous sectors are directly lumped with the negative impact of this new political uncertainty.
An obvious example is the tourism industry. What makes it worse is that this sector provides a lifeline to many other sub sectors such as transport, food and beverage, and retailing, among others. It does not help that tourism is a key contributor to the country’s Gross Domestic Product and a major source of employment.
Personally, my primary concern is the security fears. I live in Kelana Jaya and the sound of a helicopter circling the vicinity is not what you would expect on a Sunday afternoon.
But that was the reality two weeks ago. It was as if we were in a war zone.
I had run down to the neighbourhood 7-11 nearby, a day before the scheduled anti-fuel hike rally and was stumped by the presence of truckloads of personnel at the nearby police station. Tales of ‘army sightings’ became the conversation piece among us neighbours. For the first time in my life in Malaysia, safety was a real concern.
What was going to happen? Should we all lock ourselves safely at home? In this manner, containing the anti-fuel hike rally in a stadium minimised any related inconvenience to others.
Of course, sometimes the flaws of democracy require you to use your voice and presence. But I believe the golden rule is that you must exhaust all available options. Public protests should be the last course of action. There is a place to discuss these issues in a manner expected of by the public. It is called Parliament.
All parties have a voice in Parliament. Hopefully the concept of televised debate will catch on in Malaysia, and politicians from both sides of the floor can use that platform as a sustainable replacement for street protests.
Maybe then, the majority can continue to live on auto pilot mode, knowing that our basic rights are being protected – and that this fragile invisible line will never be crossed again.
Part of a compromise package to share the household duties with my wife is that I send our son to school every morning.
What wasn’t reckoned for was the hardship clause – like this one-hour jam for a trip that usually takes 20 minutes. I should have remembered – but could I even have foreseen – the probable effects of police roadblocks leading to the city.
My increasingly irritated two-year-old kept asking the question that I could not answer, “Why so long, Papa?” It wasn’t too long ago that such a situation was unimaginable. I feel the Malaysian political landscape has taken such a turn for the worse that it is unrecognisable from only a few months ago. The never-ending drama and the unpredictable nature of contemporary politics is covered minute-by-minute in all the media, be it mainstream or alternative.
However, an individual can choose to swamp himself or to ignore the latest political hullabaloo. Not everyone is politically inclined.
How involved or interested one is in this arena is a personal choice.
It does not make you less of a Malaysian if you read the business or sports sections first (or only those sections for that matter).
It is only an indication of preference and interest.
But on Monday, the unnecessary traffic jam was clear indication that politics had crossed the invisible line, trespassing into our everyday lives. People missed presentations, clients were kept waiting and, of course, restless children were sent late to school.
On a broader scale, many analysts have commented that the current political scenario has left adverse impacts on investments and the performance of the stock market. Granted, it is a global problem and other regional stock markets are also affected by rising inflation and lacklustre growth.
However, our country is now burdened with an additional risk element never seen before – political risk.
Numerous sectors are directly lumped with the negative impact of this new political uncertainty.
An obvious example is the tourism industry. What makes it worse is that this sector provides a lifeline to many other sub sectors such as transport, food and beverage, and retailing, among others. It does not help that tourism is a key contributor to the country’s Gross Domestic Product and a major source of employment.
Personally, my primary concern is the security fears. I live in Kelana Jaya and the sound of a helicopter circling the vicinity is not what you would expect on a Sunday afternoon.
But that was the reality two weeks ago. It was as if we were in a war zone.
I had run down to the neighbourhood 7-11 nearby, a day before the scheduled anti-fuel hike rally and was stumped by the presence of truckloads of personnel at the nearby police station. Tales of ‘army sightings’ became the conversation piece among us neighbours. For the first time in my life in Malaysia, safety was a real concern.
What was going to happen? Should we all lock ourselves safely at home? In this manner, containing the anti-fuel hike rally in a stadium minimised any related inconvenience to others.
Of course, sometimes the flaws of democracy require you to use your voice and presence. But I believe the golden rule is that you must exhaust all available options. Public protests should be the last course of action. There is a place to discuss these issues in a manner expected of by the public. It is called Parliament.
All parties have a voice in Parliament. Hopefully the concept of televised debate will catch on in Malaysia, and politicians from both sides of the floor can use that platform as a sustainable replacement for street protests.
Maybe then, the majority can continue to live on auto pilot mode, knowing that our basic rights are being protected – and that this fragile invisible line will never be crossed again.
13.7.08
In the Ring > Words that bind the nation
IF I had to choose the finest achievement of Malaysians, the strength to overcome the hurt of 1969 and the courage to lay the building blocks for collective, continued existence would be first on my list. IF I had to choose the finest achievement of Malaysians, the strength to overcome the hurt of 1969 and the courage to lay the building blocks for collective, continued existence would be first on my list.
In 1970, like a phoenix from the ashes, the Rukunegara eased the uncertainty, and helped shape the minds of people at a time of real crisis. In those trying months, the five mutually dependent pillars successfully bridged the divide of distrust amongst races, providing a hope for a better future that every Malaysian affected by the turmoil could relate to. The New Economic Policy provided the blueprint for the economic way forward but at that juncture, the nation needed a set of values and guidelines required for a multiracial society. The words ‘Belief in God, Loyalty to King and Country, Supremacy of the Constitution, the Rule of Law, and Courtesy and Morality’ filled the deepening vacuum.
According to stories that have been related to me, when the Yang di-Pertuan Agong proclaimed the Rukunegara in 1970, the positive vision immortalised in the document provided a real sense of hope for the people. It lifted spirits and painted a vibrant picture for the future of the nation.
Students in primary school, still too young to understand the relevancy and magnitude, remember being excited at seeing and memorising the sentences that described a promised nation.
Malaysia’s “pledge of allegiance” is once again featured in national conversation with the argument that many Malaysians through their actions via SMS and Internet have blatantly disregarded the meaning of the Rukunegara. So the natural question is, what does the Rukunegara mean to the post-1969 generation, which incidentally forms the majority of Malaysians today.
A vision is meaningless without the buy-in from the stakeholders.
I broached the subject with a fresh graduate student activist who said there was no proximity between the spirit and intent of the statement to his everyday life. It was nothing more than just words that furnished the back of his exercise books in school.
But can we fault his generation? Their eyes did not see the smoke-filled skies of Kuala Lumpur, their ears did not hear the screams that haunted so many of those affected. It is like being given a manual on how to use a vinyl record in this iPod era. The Rukunegara is not explained in detail in our classrooms. Memorising the words is not the same as understanding the significant meaning behind it. Like the fresh graduate, I too find it difficult to relate to the Rukunegara to my everyday life.
However, via my conversations, it remains in high regard. It represents the guiding principle of our nation, the essence of our constitution simplified to provide easy reference for the rakyat. It is a positive value statement that leads you to a way of life that is required for living in a multiracial society like ours. It is a statement that guarantees that every Malaysian has equal opportunities to succeed.
I see this through the success of my friend Shane, a 31-year-old Sabahan, who came to Kuala Lumpur to further his studies with nothing other than the prayers and aspirations of his family for a better future. I saw him graduate, secure his first job at a multinational company and commence his own business with limited capital and no experience.
Armed only with the belief that there are equal opportunities for all Malaysians, he is now well on his way to becoming a successful entrepreneur. It is unfortunate that we live in a time where negative and dangerous politics seem to gain supremacy, while we struggle to find a vision we can relate to. A vision borne of hope and not of fear.
A friend of mine said we must learn from history. But, we shouldn’t live in it. We have the benefit of the spirit, strength and wide framework of the Rukunegara as the starting point for our own new vision while honouring the legacy of our forefathers.
In 1970, like a phoenix from the ashes, the Rukunegara eased the uncertainty, and helped shape the minds of people at a time of real crisis. In those trying months, the five mutually dependent pillars successfully bridged the divide of distrust amongst races, providing a hope for a better future that every Malaysian affected by the turmoil could relate to. The New Economic Policy provided the blueprint for the economic way forward but at that juncture, the nation needed a set of values and guidelines required for a multiracial society. The words ‘Belief in God, Loyalty to King and Country, Supremacy of the Constitution, the Rule of Law, and Courtesy and Morality’ filled the deepening vacuum.
According to stories that have been related to me, when the Yang di-Pertuan Agong proclaimed the Rukunegara in 1970, the positive vision immortalised in the document provided a real sense of hope for the people. It lifted spirits and painted a vibrant picture for the future of the nation.
Students in primary school, still too young to understand the relevancy and magnitude, remember being excited at seeing and memorising the sentences that described a promised nation.
Malaysia’s “pledge of allegiance” is once again featured in national conversation with the argument that many Malaysians through their actions via SMS and Internet have blatantly disregarded the meaning of the Rukunegara. So the natural question is, what does the Rukunegara mean to the post-1969 generation, which incidentally forms the majority of Malaysians today.
A vision is meaningless without the buy-in from the stakeholders.
I broached the subject with a fresh graduate student activist who said there was no proximity between the spirit and intent of the statement to his everyday life. It was nothing more than just words that furnished the back of his exercise books in school.
But can we fault his generation? Their eyes did not see the smoke-filled skies of Kuala Lumpur, their ears did not hear the screams that haunted so many of those affected. It is like being given a manual on how to use a vinyl record in this iPod era. The Rukunegara is not explained in detail in our classrooms. Memorising the words is not the same as understanding the significant meaning behind it. Like the fresh graduate, I too find it difficult to relate to the Rukunegara to my everyday life.
However, via my conversations, it remains in high regard. It represents the guiding principle of our nation, the essence of our constitution simplified to provide easy reference for the rakyat. It is a positive value statement that leads you to a way of life that is required for living in a multiracial society like ours. It is a statement that guarantees that every Malaysian has equal opportunities to succeed.
I see this through the success of my friend Shane, a 31-year-old Sabahan, who came to Kuala Lumpur to further his studies with nothing other than the prayers and aspirations of his family for a better future. I saw him graduate, secure his first job at a multinational company and commence his own business with limited capital and no experience.
Armed only with the belief that there are equal opportunities for all Malaysians, he is now well on his way to becoming a successful entrepreneur. It is unfortunate that we live in a time where negative and dangerous politics seem to gain supremacy, while we struggle to find a vision we can relate to. A vision borne of hope and not of fear.
A friend of mine said we must learn from history. But, we shouldn’t live in it. We have the benefit of the spirit, strength and wide framework of the Rukunegara as the starting point for our own new vision while honouring the legacy of our forefathers.
3.7.08
In The Ring > The Beautiful Game
UNTIL last weekend, many must have asked what drives a grown man with a job that starts at 8.30am and kids that need to be sent to school by 7.30am to stay glued to the television until 4.30am, watching 22 European men kick a ball.
And why, even after all this, they still spend their lunch arguing and exchanging notes about the same game? The answer can be epitomised in three words, The Beautiful Game. Or, if you want to add Latin flavour to the description, Joga Bonito. Unless you eat, drink and sleep football, the mystery surrounding the passion for the game may never be unravelled.
Football is not so much a sport as it is a way of life.
As an illustration of the reach and magnitude of the sport, the 2006 FIFA World Cup had a total cumulative television audience of 26.29 billion. The final match between Italy and France alone drew 715.1 million viewers!
Football is big business and does not recognise sovereign borders. Manchester United, the richest club in the world, was valued at approximately £786 million (more than RM5 billion) by Forbes in 2007.
The club has approximately 75 million fans worldwide, more than half from the Asian continent.
Former powerhouses like Liverpool and Everton also command strong support from loyal nostalgic fans.
Football is also personal.
It has the ability to empower and involve. In the space of 90 minutes, everyone is a pundit and everyone is a brilliant football technician.
We see ourselves in football in many different lights, sometimes as coach, other times as the owner and many times as the player.
I doubt if any one fan can paint all the attributes football possesses. The subjective allure of football is never exhaustive. To me, it is meritocracy in its purest form. It does not recognise creed or race, it only recognises ability.
This was best illustrated by the multi-racial French national team of 1998 that overcame the trials and tribulations to succeed in winning the World Cup when every other French team had failed.
The racial barriers that have long been the black hole of the sport are also slowly being taken apart.
For example, the “Football Unites, Racism Divides'project which was started more than a decade ago by a group of Sheffield United fans who were concerned about a number of incidents of racist abuse both in and around the stadium, is gaining momentum.
More than any other political ideology, football unites countrymen.
Can anyone forget the Korean chant “Dae Han Min Guk'(loosely translated to mean 'great republic of Korea ') now immortalised as the theme for World Cup 2002? Brazil might have taken the trophy to Rio, but we know the real winners of that competition were the Korean fans.
In the context of Malaysian football, we are consistently reminded that we hit our peak in qualifying for the 1972 Munich Olympics.
We qualified again in 1980, but due to politics, Malaysia did not participate.
For this generation, the legend that represented the golden era, Mokhtar Dahari, exists only in stories.
But a few months back, my brother-in-law alerted me to a Youtube video that showed a wonder goal that Mokhtar Dahari scored.
That the goal was stupendous is a given, but what converted me to a diehard fan was the look on his face as he celebrated his goal.
The sheer joy etched on his face showed what the goal for his country meant to the legend.
Our prayers are that the transformed FAM administration will bring us back to such lofty heights, to give this generation its own Malaysian chant.
Yes, Malaysian football has its fair share of hurt.
Many still remember the bribery, the bookies, the indiscipline that have eclipsed the success stories and plagued the local game. Thus, the natural question is what hope is there for Malaysian football? Ultimately, football is a universal language about shared ideals, values, hope and passion. More than this, it is about believing in dreams.
I am going to continue dreaming because at the end of the day, dreaming is easy when it's a beautiful game.
And why, even after all this, they still spend their lunch arguing and exchanging notes about the same game? The answer can be epitomised in three words, The Beautiful Game. Or, if you want to add Latin flavour to the description, Joga Bonito. Unless you eat, drink and sleep football, the mystery surrounding the passion for the game may never be unravelled.
Football is not so much a sport as it is a way of life.
As an illustration of the reach and magnitude of the sport, the 2006 FIFA World Cup had a total cumulative television audience of 26.29 billion. The final match between Italy and France alone drew 715.1 million viewers!
Football is big business and does not recognise sovereign borders. Manchester United, the richest club in the world, was valued at approximately £786 million (more than RM5 billion) by Forbes in 2007.
The club has approximately 75 million fans worldwide, more than half from the Asian continent.
Former powerhouses like Liverpool and Everton also command strong support from loyal nostalgic fans.
Football is also personal.
It has the ability to empower and involve. In the space of 90 minutes, everyone is a pundit and everyone is a brilliant football technician.
We see ourselves in football in many different lights, sometimes as coach, other times as the owner and many times as the player.
I doubt if any one fan can paint all the attributes football possesses. The subjective allure of football is never exhaustive. To me, it is meritocracy in its purest form. It does not recognise creed or race, it only recognises ability.
This was best illustrated by the multi-racial French national team of 1998 that overcame the trials and tribulations to succeed in winning the World Cup when every other French team had failed.
The racial barriers that have long been the black hole of the sport are also slowly being taken apart.
For example, the “Football Unites, Racism Divides'project which was started more than a decade ago by a group of Sheffield United fans who were concerned about a number of incidents of racist abuse both in and around the stadium, is gaining momentum.
More than any other political ideology, football unites countrymen.
Can anyone forget the Korean chant “Dae Han Min Guk'(loosely translated to mean 'great republic of Korea ') now immortalised as the theme for World Cup 2002? Brazil might have taken the trophy to Rio, but we know the real winners of that competition were the Korean fans.
In the context of Malaysian football, we are consistently reminded that we hit our peak in qualifying for the 1972 Munich Olympics.
We qualified again in 1980, but due to politics, Malaysia did not participate.
For this generation, the legend that represented the golden era, Mokhtar Dahari, exists only in stories.
But a few months back, my brother-in-law alerted me to a Youtube video that showed a wonder goal that Mokhtar Dahari scored.
That the goal was stupendous is a given, but what converted me to a diehard fan was the look on his face as he celebrated his goal.
The sheer joy etched on his face showed what the goal for his country meant to the legend.
Our prayers are that the transformed FAM administration will bring us back to such lofty heights, to give this generation its own Malaysian chant.
Yes, Malaysian football has its fair share of hurt.
Many still remember the bribery, the bookies, the indiscipline that have eclipsed the success stories and plagued the local game. Thus, the natural question is what hope is there for Malaysian football? Ultimately, football is a universal language about shared ideals, values, hope and passion. More than this, it is about believing in dreams.
I am going to continue dreaming because at the end of the day, dreaming is easy when it's a beautiful game.
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