Night thoughts for the main man

If this administration did as it promised – you know, uphold transparency and openness – do you think we'd be facing such strife and threat today? If affairs had been conducted above-board, what ammo would any party have against the running of this country? What would it have had to fear?

The people were behind you; the GE remains solid proof. The catch is in the past tense - were; the Sarawak state elections is proof.

Keep The Promise – that was all we wanted, and what we still want now. This was the first and obvious path for Malaysia to take after the crazy hazy years of Mahapolitick. All we wanted was fresh air and clean skies; to breathe again. To breathe easy.

I can tell you, the very blogdom and free media that Zam and Fu so despise is the same world that would have been happier working with you. The paeans were ready to be sung, like the time you sprang the surprise visit at Immigrations, or when you pushed for the Royal Police Commission.

You had it all. A good believable demeanour, a good believeable background, and a good believable rakyat narrative. Nobody expected you to be the know-all and do-all, that's just impossible. But we did expect you to assemble a team of the finest pahlawans available on this land, to bring back credence to politics in Malaysia. We believed.

After all, integrity, being open and transparent was just the beginning. We had hoped to cultivate again the fundamentals of higher civilisation – how to listen, how to discuss, how to see and feel. For one another; not against.

The Promise kept would have paved many, many inroads into our nation's psyche without a single toll-booth. It would have generated high performance without the need for a complex on foreign soil. It would have satisfied a good margin of the 9MP without having spent a single sen.

The Promise was framed simply and could have been realised just as simply. Make integrity, openness and transparency the unshakeable hallmark of the Administration. Bite it and never ever let go. If any party – minister, official, councillor, public servant, judge, family member – reneges on that agreement, remove it. With surgical coldness, remove it. This country is hardly short on capable replacements, you must agree. By the same token, demand the same of us all, the common citizens.

That was all we asked. To carve The Promise with laser determination.

However big the Machinery that preceded you, you could have been equal if not bigger to slay it. See, you had the people with you, lending pure meaning to the adage “The meek shall inherit the earth”. For the first time in a generation, you had the people ready – beyond the crudeness of race, ideology, and creed. Boy, were we ready.

Today, the administration is facing attacks on many fronts. It isn't hard to see why. Information is still stored in silos guarded by ogres from your own appointment, directly or indirectly. They aren't mere Little Napoleons. It is this opacity and stonewalling which create suspicion and contempt. How bad is it? This bad - that the Past, the figure whose era we wanted so badly to surmount, has actually risen again, not back from the dead as a zombie but a living, breathing, spitting, fiery entity. It has always strived on division and suspicion with deadly success and yes, now you are its target.

Will you fight fire with fire?

Will you use threat, close down the very corridors that had always supported your political stand? Will you unfurl the memory of Ops Lallang to restore order and subservience?

Or will you walk towards the battered wall, recite your pledge, and with laser determination, fight fire with water – open the window to The Promise.

Do that, and I – and millions of honest, dedicated Malaysians who want fresh air and clean skies – will be there. And we will stand firm to keep this window open. Is it in you?

Breaking for bread

Dr M was sprayed with mace yesterday morning. I feel dreadful and sorry.

And yes, also because the act caused him to gasp for air and his eyes hurt from the chemicals. Turns out he's fine, eating well, although by his own admission it was a scary affair.

I feel dreadful and sorry because as updates unfolded, even as he energetically spoke from the podium at the Perdana Hotel that same afternoon, the whole affair was proving itself to be a farce.

As some may have speculated, genuine national interests may not be quite the concern of this groundswell of support for Dr M. They hung buntings and banners, launched websites, Hidup here, Hidup there. But sans words and a hazy spray of mace, the simple message that thundered across the nation was this: Mahathir makes bread, and I want a slice of it. The loaf is a big hit.

The official version – paraphrased – says the incident happened because two groups supporting the ex-PM had wanted to be the official chauffeur (among other savoury limelight responsibilities). They couldn't reach an agreement even as Dr M stepped off the plane at Pengkalan Chepa. They pushed and shoved to usher him – my car better, my Pajero better. They pulled the 81-year-old man this way, then that.

Assuming the official version was accurate to an extent, how would a genuine leader of the people feel? How would a genuine leader take to the notion that it isn't so much his wisdom they're concerned, they just want to carry his balls. Conceivably, they're worth more than their weight in gold. Wouldn't a genuine leader change the angle of his speech and address this present and pressing issue instead – that we are frighteningly mired in tribal practices? That the puak mentality poses the biggest hurdle to this country?

But no, with double-dose of mace and pepper spray Dr M's speech predictably ridiculed the Pak Lah administration. He may have his points, I do not know. I'd like to, but I cannot. He never took the trouble to provide proof; he doesn't care. And the tribes, they don't care either, do they? Stoke the fire, man, stoke the fire. Let's make bread.

I'm no fan of Mahathir, never been. And I have lost faith in Pak Lah way back when he announced his Cabinet reshuffle. Subsequent government policies give me no reason to change my mind.

For all this and more, and proven yet again by the 'pffft' of a RM25 canister of mace, I feel dreadful and sorry. Termites, those cellulose-munching creatures under your house, have a better social structure than us.

I turn off the lights, lie back in bed with my ears trained to the wet darkness outside. The geckos are quiet, crickets dormant. Puak-puak-puak, puak-puak-puak – so goes the sound of frogs in the coconut shells.

Tear gassed

Sigh, and all he wanted to do was talk about his new kedai roti. Sigh

Women, you ain't PM material

Women, get real. You and your kind are not good enough to be Prime Minister in this land. Not yet anyway.

So said Pahang's chief minister who obviously believed he spoke on behalf of the entire country.

The brave but socially-challenged Adnan Yaakob, who is a male by birth I think, made this profound 21st century statement in a speech addressed to 1,000 women. He walked out alive.

I didn't find this reported on the mainstream media. No surprise there because the emasculated were merely heeding Pak Lah's call to practise thoughtful journalism. Malaysiakini has it, and charmingly, The Middle East Times.
http://metimes.com/articles/normal.php?StoryID=20060725-054958-1096r

Here's the entire story in full.

KUALA LUMPUR - A Malaysian state leader has said that the country is not ready for a female prime minister, labeling the idea "unreasonable," a report said Tuesday.
The chief minister of eastern Pahang state, Adnan Yaakob, told more than 1,000 women gathered for a seminar that women had to be "realistic" about their rights.
"I fully support the idea that men and women are equal, but those striving toward this must not ask for unreasonable things," Adnan was quoted as saying in the New Straits Times.
Women are still in the minority in the mostly Muslim nation's parliament and the cabinet, and Adnan said that Malaysian society was not ready to have a woman at the helm of the government.
"That is the reality. Women should fight for their rights, but in doing so, they should not, at least for now, ask for things which do not make sense, such as wanting to be prime minister," he said.

I'm stumped. Bewildered. Kaku.

Just one question escapes: Is a woman then good enough to at least be state chief minister? Hurry, cos I think the beautiful state of Pahang could do with a new one.

Drop Ethnic Relations, teach the Federal Constitution instead

Here's a no-brainer. Instead of baffling courses like Ethnic Relations, Malaysian Studies, and Malaysian Citizenship, why doesn't the government introduce one key program which can serve the goals of the topics above and more?

Let's teach the Federal Constitution in our institutions of higher learning.

The reasons are simple. The Constitution is the germ of our country's Being. Within it are principles on how the nation is to be governed, where checks and balances are, the respective roles of the executive, legislative and judiciary. It defines a Citizen of Malaysia. That's you and I.

It is codified – in black and white – and hence is more lucid than any interpretation-style course. It doesn't have to hide behind the cloaks of pseudo-academia and political agenda. Its textbook – the Federal Constitution itself – can be bought for RM15 at any decent bookstore.

I have reverence for the Constitution. You too, I'm sure. It is a given; my single responsibility as a Malaysian. I trust its contents. I have faith in it, although I admit to not knowing the Constitution well. I have read some key articles and digested them to the best of my faculties. Knowing bits and pieces is admittedly incomplete but at least now, I am more equipped to personally weigh national policies within a sound framework. Better, I have grounds to articulate why.

Currently there isn't widespread literacy in the Constitution among commonfolk and, I suspect, even among our national stewards. Hansards from Parliament reveal a lot and sometimes what they reveal is frightening. This deficiency is undoubtedly shackling our growth as a nation. We encounter a lot of screaming from many quarters – Parliamentarians, bloggers, comments on blogs, coffeeshop talk – but few have substance when probed. That's because these are shouts from the gut, and the gut is tribal.

We ask for Freedom, and freedom asks this of us: Be responsible. First know our bearings, our bones, then only can we act responsibly. Responsible debate, responsible process, responsible practice. The more we know our Constitution the more we collectively move forward responsibly.

This needn't be a dry course. Rather than exam-oriented, it can be a rich liberal arts-style module, full of probing questions and sharpening of principles. Lectures could be balanced with discussion sessions with readings from other sources. It would address fundamentals: What's the point of a constitution? What shaped ours? What are its key ideas? When is an amendment deemed necessary?

Would it be too much to learn, as well, the history of the Constitution and its subsequent amendments? How about including a broad survey of the constitutions of other countries – our Asean neighbours, our colonial mother Britain, the US, Egypt, Pakistan and India?

Would all this be too much to ask? I think not. Rather, this could be a legacy of the Pak Lah administration, a no-nonsense message about walking the talk. The Ministry of Higher Education can easily carry the responsibility of improving Constitution literacy among our youths. In fact, go one step better – have the course in the evenings and make it an open course where members of the public are free to audit such classes.

The Federal Constitution is a document I wish to study as a citizen of this country. Don't you?

Shall we?

Spirit of High Performance

Hang Tuah would've shed a tear over such loyalty. In trying to save its master's face, the National Sports Council has shown that it is simply a coterie of bumbling bumpkins.

In a statement released today, the NSC said the Youth and Sports Ministry had never intended to build a full blown sports complex for the proposed High Performance Training Centre (HTPC) in Brickendonbury, England for RM490 million as claimed.

Heehaw! Beats reading the funnies.

Reports Bernama:
(http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news_sports.php?id=208927)
The plan to turn the centre into a sports hub got off the ground with the approval of the Cabinet Committee for Sports Development, whose members include 15 cabinet ministers, chaired by Deputy Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak.

As directed by the Cabinet, the NSC was instructed to explore the possibility of coexistence with the current occupants - TARRC with consultation with the Malaysian Rubber Board (MRB).

Thus, the figure of RM490 million for the HTPC as quoted widely in the media was absolutely wrong and highly speculative, said NSC in the statement.

But, but.... the media had to quote it from somebody, no? And as it turns out, it was your dear minister Azalina who said it. So, she lied? Cooked up facts? Just like the time she said each vocational institute (IKBN) would cost a whopping RM100 million to build?
(see http://bumiku.blogspot.com/2006/01/welcome-to-my-vocational-taj-mahal.html) I mean, spin all you want, govt, but spin with some intelligence. It's getting too easy.

The funnies continue. In just one evening's edition of Bernama, you can read – and weep – about dunce policies and the politicans who are shaping our cultural landscape. If you have the stomach, that is.

More:
If you want to gain a place in our public university, make sure you do National Service. It scores you the highest marks in the co-curriculum component of university admissions. So what if you've represented the country in wushu or squash, done relief work in tsunami-hit Pangandaran, a kid who's gone through NS is one up on you. And too bad if your name didn't get drawn in the NS lottery in the first place (you do know it's a lottery right?); that's just the way of the land. Smells foul? You bet.

Our dear Higher Education Minister, that Mustapha guy, insists the controversial Ethnic Relations Module is cool once a few refinements are made. “From the 120 pages, only four are disputed and mostly the problem is in its interpretation only,” said the man. Far as I know, factual errors were actually found in the text and these have been highlighted substantially over the internet. More important is what the wise datuk elucidated – it's mainly over interpretation. Yeah, interpretations. With so much room for interpretation floating over May 13 and the like because impartial Commissions of Inquiry were never held, can you ever fairly teach this as a compulsory subject? Above all that, what is your real motive in having this module?

The Deputy Transport Minister made a startling revelation in the Dewan Rakyat which shocked all who toil honestly in this beloved land and fell us to our knees in gratitude. Tengku Azlan said this: All Ministers and Deputy Ministers who have been issued traffic summonses will have to pay up; no exceptions .................. (!) .................... He said the Cabinet even discussed this before making a decision. Our leaders are so thoughtful. Now how about setting aside some precious time on lesser issues such as racial and economic polarisation, and getting the best – and I mean merit-best not crony-best – out of our nation?

Oh, Bernama can be such a treasure trove, and you ought to go there yourself – it's free with good quality humour, if you choose to see it it that way. Which is about the only way without bursting a blood vessel.

And as always, the best is saved for last:
Samy Vellu has assured the rakyat that he will personally monitor the 9MP infrastructure projects.

That very thought just made me wet my pants. No prizes for what that means in double-speak. I must say, we are eternally blessed. In this country, the circus is always in town; it's a high performance sport.

Photo: http://www.clownjojo.dk/WorkshopFotos/images/circus%20workshop%201.jpg

9MP reveals its face

The curtain is opening. Come. Come catch a glimpse. Do you like its face, the face of gemilang?

The first list of development projects under the 9MP was released today by Pak Lah – 880 packages worth some RM15 billion.

More will be added “from time to time” as the different ministries complete their homework.

Do scrutinise the list if you can spare the time. It makes for interesting material for those keen on comprehending the priorities of our government. If anything it articulates (or jumbles, depending...) AAB's abstractions of the 9MP announced in April; this exercise will sculpt its form over the next five years.

Draw your own studied conclusions – that's important – but do tie it back to the warm, glowy larger goals of the 9MP. You remember, Pak Lah's noble Five Thrusts:

to move the economy up the value chain;
to raise the capacity for knowledge and innovation and nurture 'first class mentality';
to address persistent socio-economic inequalities constructively and productively;
to improve the standard and sustainability of quality of life; and
to strengthen the institutional and implementation capacity.

Me, I stick to the simpler things. I like observing our neighbourhoods and towns and try locate what's deficient in the urban makeup. What's missing is a lot of heart and soul, I think. After all, 22 years of Mahathir's dust-kicking grand economic march left plenty of dislocation in local communities. Despite my own deep cynicism, I was hoping this compassionate successor would inject something under the 9MP to restore some isotonic balance.

Balance? How about Bah!

Here's compassion and 'first class' mentality for you:

There is not a single public library – new or upgraded – in the list for the entire country.

Of the 71 projects under the Prime Minister's Department, nine are for retail spaces and complexes, seven hotel wakaf (what are these??), but there is not a single project for the so-called revived Rukun Tetangga program which I deem to be a vital element to community development in the urban areas.

So much for the radiant face of gemilang. Let's see what happens “from time to time”; this is an initial list after all. Just that right now, it's plain discordant.

Encore? Spare me.

Zidane's final message

If somebody curses my family and loved ones, or my colour, or my background – with bile and malice – I shall clobber him. Hard.

There are limits to tolerance, I'm afraid. I'm no saint, I'm all DNA and bone, and far short of that new-age love-all cosmic dust.

Human. As are the other 6.6 billion people in this world, I suspect.

As is Zinedine Zidane.

Flesh and blood, yet so divine with the football, but flesh and blood no less. And in the world's finest football stage, on a night he was busily whipping out calligraphy on the turf, he did what he must now wish he did not do. He must have wished he could've carried the weight of his country's flag, he must have wished he upheld his role as a model to children with dreams, he must have wished he could've ended his career amid worldwide smiles and popping fireworks.

Instead, he was gravity-bound, flesh and blood, with human pride and a breaking point. Zidane, an artist most happy when at work, clobbered a provoking pretender during studio hours last night.

His sending off and the subsequent crashing of France didn't go down well with me. It wasn't anger, it was a strange sense of justice unfulfilled. It was a red card, yes. But something here was different - Zidane is no Christiano Ronaldo actor; it wasn't a Figo fit, it wasn't a Rooney stomp. It was something quite aside, undifferentiated as yet by the rules today.

Zidane's full-bodied head butt in the 108th minute of the final game has capped a wonderful World Cup 2006 and exposed new challenges to the managing of the sport. Sports columnists have been quick to condemn Zidane's act as a disgrace to France and to football. Disgrace! Shame! Stupid! But that's just what journalists do – self-appointed moral monitors as they are – they who comment as if our world was black-and-white as their print, and they who view themselves as pure angels above wrong-doing.

Video images of the final show Zidane already moving past a mouthing Marco Materazzi; the Frenchman stops, does a 180 turn and rams his head hard into the chest of the tall Italian defender. The moments prior to the act showed chest holding and shirt-tugging by the Italian. That's common enough in a game. Zizou was about to move on, get on with football; he had begun running to position, yet more words spilled forth from the Italian. Then the decided brake, turn and bam!

What was uttered that could unleash such wrath?

By any account, given the rules of the game as they stand, this was a red card. No question about it. But another question emerges from the fog of that incident: If rules are there to promote a good healthy game, then is the current set doing the job?

How low should peripheral tactics – diving, playacting, trash talking – be allowed to get if they begin to affect the very nature of sport? How do we protect the sanctity of the game? I fail to see the point in artless victories.

What is the spirit of sport? Perhaps it is best explained by another sports icon rather than another pontificating journalist.

In the summer of 1999, women's tennis saw an emerging darling Martina Hingis take on an ageing injury-plagued Steffi Graf in the French Open singles final. It was a difficult game, the sweetest in its genre, and Hingis, leading but increasingly frustrated at not being able to close out the match, began moaning about line calls and battled the umpire. So incessant was the 18-year-old's whining, the regal Graf walked to the net at one occasion and told the pouting Hingis: “Please! Play tennis. Let's just play tennis.”

For the record, Steffi won that day in what turned out to be a classic. From that incident on, Hingis was booed by the crowd at Roland Garros and finished the game in tears. But above all that was the moral – play tennis.

Play football.

Zidane did until something snapped. Did Materazzi? In those moments prior, what was uttered, I'm ever curious. I think the world deserves to know, especially before condemnation begins.

I do know that Zidane, despite the white furnace in his belly, is not one who bothers over petty issues. It's been displayed in all aspects of his game. His is a class act, flamboyant yet efficient with few words wasted, even fewer dives. If anything, he wants to be part of a beautiful thing. And then there's that line. That taut line that divides the creator and the destroyer which exists in every genius and which lesser mortals seem intent on exploiting.

I'd like to believe the startling event on Sunday may turn out to be more important than winning the trophy. It was Zidane's destiny to go out with a bang except fate wrote a script nobody could foresee; a morbid contribution to the game few can comprehend now because of its rawness.

I believe it'll set football on overdrive in its continuing quest for the most level of playing fields in order that teamwork and spirit, skill and talent remain the only criteria for winning. Not diving, not playacting, not trash-talking. They have changed the structure of the ball, created new grass hybrids, reinvented footwear, reconfigured stadiums, tweaked the rules – all to promote a fairer game.

It's only a natural step that, given the profile of the Zizou incident, FIFA looks seriously into the emerging disease of on-field misdeeds. Poor and cynical gamesmanship - especially those that go into personal territory - destroys the beautiful game. What triggers a violent act can at times be more repulsive than the act itself, and such behaviour should never be allowed to roost on the field.

So far, only hearsay has emerged about what was actually uttered. This much has been perpetuated about the moments prior – Materazzi called Zidane a terrorist; Materazzi told Zidane to go play for his own country instead. A lot depends on the manner on how the remarks were made.

If any of that had a grain of truth, and if I were in Zidane's shoes big as they were, Materazzi would be without teeth today. But that's just me, a potential disgrace to country and family. Sports journalists may pass all the judgment they want, but the simple message would be: Please! Play football.

Yes, play football. For a man uncomfortable with words, that was Zidane's strange and final message to everyone involved in the game. How fitting, if you ask me.