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.

Cut and paste

Holy smokes, they're doggone persistent in pursuing the theme park idea at Nusajaya, aren't they? A day after Disneyland US said forget it, UEM is still adamant about making it happen, as if a theme park was the best idea since the creation of the universe. Just shows how dull these folks can be.

We have such beautiful natural resources unavailable to many countries, where tourists would give a dollar and a leg to experience, yet we choose to seek pop formulas set up by others. Dumb.

This fetish with theme parks is getting ridiculous - some clown Penang MP also has theme park ideas for Pulau Jerejak - and all this smacks of wanting to mirror Singapore's integrated resorts. There must be a word for this: If kleptomaniacs are people who uncontrollably steal, and megalomaniacs are people with fat egos, what do we call people who incessantly copy the efforts of others? The best I can come up is 'Sheep'.

Theme park, ptooi.

I suspect it may well have something to do with their place of work; ask the experts in environmental psychology. After all, the clowns with clout happen to be collected in the largest, most ridiculous theme park in the country modeled after the Arabian Nights. They call it Putrajaya.

Doors

She found red spots on scraps of 68-million-year-old dinosaur bones. Turns out, paleontologist Mary Schweitzer may have uncovered blood vessels and whole blood cells in that particular T. Rex.

Her discovery is huge - overturning previous beliefs that soft tissue do no last - and stands to move the boundaries of that science a pterodactyl leap forward. Fellow paleontologists believe these observations could provide some answers to the evolution of dinosaurs, their physiology, and whether these creatures were warm or cold-blooded.

It is all in the technique – an acid bath - which is a product of Schweitzer’s unconventional approach to digging at secrets. It speaks of her background.

In many ways, that’s the most inspiring part of the story for me. And, in a not-so-subtle hint, lessons on education policies for this region.

Reports the Smithsonian (http://www.smithsonianmag.com/issues/2006/may/dinosaur.php):

“It may be that Schweitzer’s unorthodox approach to paleontology can be traced to her roundabout career path. Growing up in Helena, Montana, she went through a phase when, like many kids, she was fascinated by dinosaurs. In fact, at age 5 she announced she was going to be a paleontologist.

“But first she got a college degree in communicative disorders, married, had three children and briefly taught remedial biology to high schoolers. In 1989, a dozen years after she graduated from college, she sat in on a class at Montana State University taught by paleontologist Jack Horner, of the Museum of the Rockies, now an affiliate of the Smithsonian Institution. The lectures reignited her passion for dinosaurs. Soon after, she talked her way into a volunteer position in Horner’s lab and began to pursue a doctorate in paleontology.”

Let’s see: A kid grows up dreaming of becoming a dinosaur scientist. She follows a different path. She gets married, has three kids and becomes a high-school teacher. She goes back to school after 12 years, gets hooked on to paleontology again, volunteers in a lab and works towards her Ph.D in paleontology. Today, she’s proving that such an investment pays off.

Mary Schweitzer could only do this because in the US and many other developed countries such avenues are available. Doors remain open for the common adult to better themselves. Whether in academia, professional or vocational, adult learning programs are seen as a vital source for progress. Each field thrives on drawing people from diverse backgrounds, knowing that they bring freshness and lateral bite to a discipline.

It works on the simple principle that people constantly grow, and not stop at this threshold called Matrikulasi or STPM where their life's fate is more or less decided. Many discover (or rediscover) their passion later in life; more so in our region I believe. The sad story is, many among us buy a changkul in our 20s, dig energetically and bury our passions; partly out of security, partly because we don’t have any better means of actualization. Dulled and herded, we then go for a bite or catch a sale. Way to go.

Forget the indulgent buildings, grand highways and scenic bridges. They are paeans to raw ego and greed. The bones of a real wawasan lie in a firm commitment to education - of all ages, creed, and emphatically, race. If instead we invested heavily in setting up doors, encourage a maturing population to seize their dreams, we’d be retapping into a giga-gilawatt of human spirit.

I’ll be a happy person if, in our local institutions, we see 30-40 year olds attending undergraduate or grad courses of their choice, not just a bunch of MBA junkies. I’ll be doing flips if, in our local institutions, we see engineers taking up sculpture and accountants majoring in physics. When that happens, you know we can seriously talk about Boleh without breaking into guffaws. We needn’t be surrounded with Keranamu billboards – we’ll be living it.

Let’s not wait; let’s put together a government enlightened enough to enable that.

Strong medicine

You learn something new every day.

Stare decisis – Latin for ‘to stand by things decided’ – is a cool phrase with a big stick, as I found out. In the laws of our land, as with many other societies, stare decisis is a key doctrine based on the principle that when a point has been made by decision, it sets a precedent. This precedent shall be respected and honoured in any subsequent cases.

Its aim is this: This policy . . . ‘is based on the assumption that certainty, predictability and stability in the law are the major objectives of the legal system; i.e., that parties should be able to regulate their conduct and enter into relationships with reasonable assurance of the governing rules of law’. (Moradi-Shalal v. Fireman's Fund Ins. Companies (1988) 46 Cal.3d 287, 296)

Federal Court Judge Augustine Paul pulled that phrase out Thursday when dissing his colleague Gopal Sri Ram of the Court of Appeal. Justice Paul mentioned this in a written judgment over the Metramac-Fawziah Holdings case.

The Star reports:
“Justice Paul said that although Justice Sri Ram was correct in saying that the Federal Court had made the wrong decision in Lam Kong Co Ltd v Thong Guan Co Pte Ltd and Capital Insurance Bhd v Aishah Manap & Anor, he was not the right authority permitted by law to express such an opinion.

“As both cases are judgments of the Federal Court he (Justice Sri Ram) is bound to follow them whether he agrees with them or not.

“The stand taken by him is in blatant disregard of the doctrine of stare decisis, particularly the need to comply with this fundamental rule of the common law,” he said.

Justice Paul, in predictable fashion, goes on to mention another point which forms the paradox to the doctrine.

“However, in the written judgment, Justice Paul agreed that both the cases of Lam Kong Co Ltd and Capital Insurance had been wrongly decided.

In the two cases, the Federal Court had ruled that any interim decision or ruling by the Court of Appeal made pending or before the end of proceedings cannot be appealed to the Federal Court.

Justice Paul said the Federal Court now did not agree with the ruling of former Chief Justice Mohamed Dzaiddin Abdullah in the Lam Kong case that this was done to “filter against unnecessary appeals.”

Here’s the dilemma. Granted that the courts are run by humans, fallible as we are, mistakes will be made. There will be wrong decisions. If stare decisi is to be upheld in its purest form, we’re in trouble. Who rights the wrong?

While it is true stare decisi forms a key doctrine in law, its exactitude is also one of the most debated topics in the courts of many countries. So potent is its content, the best minds of the law are wrestling to manage it from abuse. (Here's one good essay.)

Yet some, I believe, clamour for it as a convenient weapon to achieve an agenda. It is an animal instinct: If it’s there, why not use it to serve us?

Lately, the government has been emitting strong signals to toe the line. We’ve read about Sharir and the ridiculous Umno Whip. The message – forget conscience, toe the line. On Sunday morning, the police used force and aggression against demonstrators to the fuel and electricity hikes at KLCC. The message – go home, change your lifestyle, toe the line.

Augustine Paul’s criticism of Gopal Sri Ram is a weak one. It was a cheap shot that reeks of masters and servants and the stink of politics invading the sanctum of the judiciary. I read it as a prepping up and dressing down of the eventual decision to come on the Metramac-Fawziah case.

Thanks to incompetents, we’ve lost our balance of right and wrong. We’ve allowed fools to smash our lamps of truth. It is okay to be a cheat. You know, close one eye.

How else do you explain that over at Sipadan, one of the most unique marine ecosystems around – after a contractor’s illegal barge ripped apart a section of corals and exposed suspicious building contracts and deals probably with the government – the State Tourism, Culture and Environment Minister Chong Kah Kiat comes on the news saying the contractor has apologized so there will be no penalty imposed, just a cleanup fee. Fuckwits.

Seems like the wheels of deceit are spinning happily. In fact they’ve have been equipped with new all-weather tyres. Clearly, when one resorts to strong medicine – from citing stare decisis to police force – it illustrates a lack of faith in the body system to regulate its own health. It deems that a critical and thinking public, one that demands accountability and fairness, is a fever that needs fierce control.

They forget there’s such a thing as overdose.

Seasoned

We're like neighbours separated by a fence called the Titiwangsa Range. While most of the limelight has fallen on the west coast states of peninsular Malaysia, the east coast sails along, its culture growing confidently without the bulldozers of development.

Guys in shades and dive-gear probably remember it more for the great beaches and underwater world, and perhaps visions of a tanned babe in a bathing suit. All that is true. But there is indelibly more.

In reality, Pantai Timur has arguably a more layered history stretching back to the glory days of Langkasuka and even before that. As with sands shifting, so did local culture; and what is this culture today? What are its values? Forget politics and the newspapers. Go there. Go there and feel.

Any novice interested in local history will find this stretch of coast over 450km a refreshing template as to how people work together, play together. Observations on my other blog: http://straits-mongrel.blogspot.com/2006/05/mute-and-salted.html

Eating up history

Maybe it's in the quiet shadows, maybe it's age but I'm disturbed by the directions of Melaka's growth. I firmly believe we made a terrible mistake in the 70s and 80s by reclaiming land at the mouth of the Melaka River. We're allowing the disease to spread today.

Does history have to be buried in the name of progress?

Did a roadtrip with Hup, spent a couple of nights in Melaka plus a quick jaunt to Muar. The whole place is a gemstone of breathing history. But we seem intent on suffocating it.

Yesterday, we defaced Banda Hilir and Tranquerah. Today, we're killing Klebang to who knows where... Tanjong Kling? Tanjong Bidara?

If Hang Jebat was around, he'd have those responsible quartered and cooked. My rants: http://straits-mongrel.blogspot.com/2006/05/water-margin.html

A very good walk

I read that he asked for a kretek before he died. He loved his cloved tobacco – the crackling stick, tingling bite to the lips, the full-body smoke in the lungs – as he loved Indonesia. Pramoedya Ananta Toer, writer and beacon, died this morning at home in East Jakarta.

Unlike the many episodes he went through in his 81-year life, in this final passage he was among family, and that at the very least must have been a beautiful thing.

It has been a long, long trek for Pramoedya, born Feb 6, 1925 in the Central Java town of Blora beneath the sheltering canopy of its teak forests. He was the first-born among nine siblings and was given a name he stoically lived up to without bend or feign. Pramoedya means “First in the Battlefield”. And early in life while a loyalist soldier, he quickly discarded the bayonet for the pen.

He lived through Dutch rule, then the Japanese Occupation, saw the red and white flag of Indonesia raised and the decades of independence thereafter. After the war, pressing for a free Indonesia, he was jailed by the Dutch for 2-1/2 years. In 1960, his pen singeing with anger at the continuing feudalistic practices of the Sukarno government, he was jailed again, this time for two years. The most brutal was to come under Suharto – Pramoedya was detained without trial along with thousands of political prisoners, and imprisoned for 14 years, ten of which were on the penal island of Buru. It has been reported that in all the years of his captivity, he had never been charged with a crime.

It has been said that whatever doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger. Pramoedya’s works are proof. From as early as Perburuan (The Fugitive), first published in 1949, to the magnificent Buru Quartet, his verses have a quiet beat that remind you of the warm Nusantara nights, of cicadas, and the sloshing gullies during a rainstorm. They remind you of the smell of your own bed, of fresh-cut serai, and the tsk-tsk croak of geckos. It's that kind of beat.

They haunt.

Ironically enough, I first came to hear of Pramoedya’s works in a country and culture far from the tropics. In a toasty living room on a winter’s night in Eugene, OR, Coleen F, a wonderful American friend was recounting her days in Southeast Asia. She and then-boyfriend, now-husband Stephen had spent many months traveling in the region from Sulawesi to Sumatara to Indochina. Both speak fluent Bahasa Indonesia, and I must thank them for reawakening my affiliation to these lands.

“Try this,” Coleen said, over a mug of coffee. “Maybe you can tell us if it feels real to you.” It was a yellowed, dog-eared paperback, tattered at the corners, the sort of book that’s been floating through the hands of many back-packers.

It was This Earth of Mankind, the first novel of the Buru Quartet, which traces the growing nationalism through the eyes of Minke and Annelies. That night, in my frigid room, I read the opening paragraphs, then pages leafed over pages and slowly into chapters. Yes, it felt real. Not only that, it hit a depth in my being not very often struck. It unraveled a culture I knew but wasn’t intimate. It captured scenes and dialogues I lived in. It was vivid. It told a history and a people’s values far better than any textbook in school.

Two years later, I was back in this region, to this water wonderland. In my early days back, I was browsing through the book bins in Giant at Shah Alam when I found two jewels – Pramoedya’s The Fugitive, and House of Glass (final installment of the Buru Quartet) – chucked among other novels and children’s nursery rhymes. For RM9.95 a pop, it was a steal. Months later, while strolling through Books Kinokuniya I came across the exact two titles in the original Bahasa Indonesia version. What joy.

While the original version has a definite more earthy texture given the gamelan nature of Bahasa, Willem Samuels' translations are quite wonderful in themselves.

It has not been easy coming upon Pramoedya’s works in this land of pop booksellers and I still lament the absence (or demise?) of a used book culture that throbs with so much vibrance at affordable prices, a place where good literature can still be obtained on a shoestring existence. But that’s another story.

Here’s what matters for now. Pramoedya Ananta Toer lit it up for me then, and in reading about his life and causes, continues to light it up even more. In his struggles and uncompromising stand on honest values, he sits emblazoned as one of the few people in Southeast Asia who had the balls to show he had a heart and a brain. The role of literature in Indonesia “is simply to raise the level of humanity”, he had said.

He was unafraid. He was unafraid – as so many today are still afraid – to acknowledge, for instance, that the beauty and greatness of the Indonesian spirit is a concoction of many different cultures, the Chinese being a major one. Accept that fact and accept these people, he wrote. He was persecuted and jailed by Sukarno for delving on that topic (the Hua Kiau letters).

He was deemed a left-wing activist, a communist, by Suharto and was impounded on Buru, stealing away what would have been the years of fatherhood to his infant children. “Follow me, sir. I'll take you to safety,” an army corporal had told him as a mob gathered outside his house that fateful October night in 1965. He was led to a truck, clubbed with a rifle and lost his hearing.

In Buru, without pen nor paper he recited his stories orally. He was released from Buru only to be confined to house arrest in Jakarta. His books were banned under Suharto’s Indonesia and his name was not allowed to be mentioned in any publication. In 1992, on Human Rights Day, he simply decided to walk out on the streets and be a free man. It helped that Suharto was a weakened man by then.

An honest life spent bears its fruit although they may come years later. In the course of crafting his oeuvre – 37 novels, poetry, essays – Pramoedya was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature a number of times and was awarded the Ramon Magsaysay Award in 1995 among many others.

But for me, I believe the happiest denouement to his life was that at the end of the day, when the shades finally came down on his lithe body, he had had a final kretek – Indonesia’s own – all quiet and peaceful, crackling in that sweet clovened smell. And he had his family around, his own.

Rest well, my kindred spirit, rest well. You’ve had a long beautiful walk.



Photo: Stanley http://www.radix.net/~bardsley/photos2.html

Notable links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pramoedya_Ananta_Toer
http://www.radix.net/~bardsley/prampage.html
Provides huge body of literature and photos on Pram and his work.

Old paths, new bridges

Got out of the country for some fresh air two weekends ago. Central Java, land of Borobudur and Prambanan, chokes with history and offers plenty to those who are keen on knowing more about our Nusantara roots, even our Peranakan links.

Clearly, it is more than a place of pretty temples. It nudges you to think and make connections. Four days - that's the time I spent there - is pittance, but it'll do for now. There's just too much to absorb as it is.

First impressions can be found at my other blog. ( http://straits-mongrel.blogspot.com/) It's skimpy but a start no less. I'll add more in due time. One thing's for sure, next planned stop in the not too distant future - Palembang.

Tender loving care

Remember this:

'The tender process
will be open
and transparent.'

- Works Minister Samy Vellu,
announcing on Sunday that tenders for 378 infrastructure projects under the 9MP will be called in phases beginning next month. The total estimated sum involved is RM18.6 billion. Yes, billion. (http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news.php?id=190901)

Let's play Honour your Word.
But first, some Revision Notes:

Transparent (adj)
1. Capable of transmitting light so that objects or images can be seen as if there were no intervening material. See synonyms at clear.
2. Permeable to electromagnetic radiation of specified frequencies, as to visible light or radio waves.
3. So fine in texture that it can be seen through; sheer. See synonyms at airy.
4. Easily seen through or detected; obvious: transparent lies.
Free from guile; candid or open: transparent sincerity.
5. Obsolete. Shining through; luminous.

[Middle English, from Old French, from Medieval Latin trānspārēns, trānspārent-, present participle of trānspārēre, to show through : Latin trāns-, trans- + Latin pārēre, to show.]

("transparent." The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. Answers.com 10 Apr. 2006. http://www.answers.com/topic/transparent)


Open (adj)
1.
a) Affording unobstructed entrance and exit; not shut or closed.
b) Affording unobstructed passage or view: open waters; the open countryside.
2.
a) Having no protecting or concealing cover: an open wound; an open sports car.
b) Completely obvious; blatant: open disregard of the law.
c) Carried on in full view: open warfare; open family strife.
d) Sports. Not closely defended by an opponent: an open receiver.
3.
a) Not sealed or tied: an open package.
b) Spread out; unfolded: an open book.
4. Having interspersed gaps, spaces, or intervals: open ranks; an open weave.
5.
a) Accessible to all; unrestricted as to participants: an open competition.
b) Free from limitations, boundaries, or restrictions: open registration.
c) Enterable by registered voters regardless of political affiliation: an open primary.
d) Computer Science. Of or relating to a file that can be accessed.

("open." The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. Answers.com 10 Apr. 2006. http://www.answers.com/topic/open)


Stay peeled. In some ways, this is better than the World Cup; it comes once every five years.

Stupid face

Baffling. After appointing himself the moral guardian here, this Zam fella now wants to be Singapore’s Minister of Information as well. Bernama reports:

“The Singapore media are not contributing to improving relations between the republic and Malaysia by frequently publishing inaccurate reports on Malaysia, Information Minister Datuk Zainuddin Maidin said Sunday…

“Zainuddin said the Singapore media should emulate the Malaysian media which did not publish reports that could spoil relations between the two countries.”
(http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v3/news.php?id=190861)

Seems like he’s displeased over the conjured image of Malaysia being a haven for car thieves. He’s sulking. But that’s not the point.

The point is whether these are facts.

And if they are, can we as Malaysia face them? And actually do something about it? Something deep, elegant and far-reaching that addresses the larger social issues.

It’s one thing when our ineptitude is effectively covered by muzzling the local press, another when it is exposed by a sovereign neighbour’s media because it involves its people. If those are actual incidents, then Singapore has every bloody right to highlight it.

Sure Singapore’s words may come across as crass, kurang sopan. Western style. Our Most Duly Respected (YAB) chieftains feel they’ve been dissed, slapped in the face; something they’re not used to on local turf.

Tough, baby. If you haven’t realized, in the real working world, the rules are different. It’s actually fairer. You don’t get to change the goalposts, and you don’t get to muscle your might over minions. Mostly, you earn respect, not buy it. And when you’re busted, you own up, you suck it up and you fix the damn problem.

Now that - above all the slogans and scripture-reading on the radio - is integrity.

I think, we suffer from this whole ‘give face’ / ‘lose face’ bullshit. It’s our common denominator, a disease beyond race, religion, and income level. Insidiously over the decades, it has pockmarked all arms of government and the private sector. It has made Rafidah have a kneecap operation in the height of the AP issue, Samy Vellu exclaim something about “an Act of God”, and some clown MB go “Semuanya OK”.

It is an epidemic. This ‘face’ thing has kept us wrapped in cocoons of ignorance, dependence, and lies. We mistake its stifling choke as the warmth of down feathers, docile chicken that we are. Way too often, it has made us stand down when we should be standing up.

Mind you, it’s not about being rude, it’s about getting a damn spine. Gandhi wasn’t rude. Nor is Aung San Suu Kyi.

Face. Bah!

I’d rather face the issues. I’d rather face facts. And then collectively work on imaginative solutions to the problems at hand. As for car thefts, I do personally know of a few Singaporeans who have been carjacked, threatened at knifepoint, parang-point, kukri-point. I’ve heard many more stories told by friends about Singaporean cars being stolen. I’m picky about the friends I make; as a rule, they do not make lying a lifestyle, therefore I believe them.

There is a high chance even more Malaysians have had their cars stolen, either forcibly or theft. From Lexus to older Proton Sagas, the robbers lose no time intellectualizing the merits. Again I personally know of a few, and many more stories.

The fact is this, harder-core crime happens in higher numbers here than in Singapore. Rape, murder, robbery, burglary, snatch theft. It is far from anarchy, far from it. It does not make Malaysia an ugly place. But it presents yet another symptom of the social and income imbalance in this country and how much ground we need to make. There is nothing wrong with facing that fact straight on.

So when the Singapore media chooses to ‘sensationalise’ car-thefts across the causeway, it is informing the-good-life people there of the precautions one needs to take when in Malaysia. If that deters them from coming in, and instead opt for safer trips perhaps to Korea, Europe, Australia, well good for them.

And sad for you, Zam. Because you think Singaporeans are idiots who fear the dark, who are totally led by their media, who cannot adapt and take precautions, and who cannot see Malaysia is beautiful despite its flaws.

So Zam, look in the mirror and shut up already. Just shut the F up.

U life

Oh man, what a blast! MIT and Caltech, two premier tech universities in the US have been playing pranks on each other for some time now. The latest goal was scored Thursday by MIT.

Reports the LA Times:

“In the ongoing battle of the nerds between Caltech and MIT, the latest volley has been fired from a 130-year-old cannon…

Massachusetts pranksters, posing as professional movers, stole the beloved Fleming Cannon — traditionally fired at each year's commencement — from the Pasadena campus last week.”
(http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-statue7apr07,0,2096065.story)

I just love it when the wits of youths are put to play. In this case, the rivalry is just tasty and engaging. There’s even a website that keeps score on Caltech vs MIT. Rivalry, as any mature person knows, is not hate. Far from it. In fact, MIT and Caltech collaborate closely on many disciplines, from jet propulsion to voting methods in the presidential elections, and the respect for each other is clearly mutual.

Pranks and rivalry as a package among universities is not uncommon. There’s Harvard and Yale, the classic being the giant ‘We Suck’ banner in 2004. I can’t recall any but I’m sure the Oxford-Cambridge rivalry must have had its fair share of thrusts and parry, perhaps over beer and sherry.

One thing’s for sure, clever pranks point to a fertile mind. A good prank challenges the creators and requires creative execution for it to succeed - in the recent MIT case, to ship a cannon all the way from coast to coast! And a prankster only preys on an equal with no harm intended except for bruised egos and bragging rights. Clever pranks, much like play in animal behaviour, are an indicator that a system is healthy.

Hence, a memo to the many Yang Amat Berhormats out to jaga the morals of this country: Get a life.

There’s honestly no need to play Head Prefect. Why are you people so sibuk in the running of our lives? The University and University College Act stifles wit and instills fear. And yet we want to be among the top in the world. Ptooi.

Instead of micro-managing trivial matters like whether ‘College’ought to be removed from College University because grads feel discriminated at job-hunting, or what is required uniform during convocation, or what you can wear while in campus or posting sentries at every entrance and dark corner (why are campuses in Malaysia like gated communities?), why don’t you just frigging back off and let college students be college students?

YAB-YAB sekalian, here’s a clue to fostering the growth of intelligent life-forms in this country. Let us think, let us live. Let us all have a life.


PS. Speaking of pranks, Jeff Ooi’s last week was a gem. (http://www.jeffooi.com/2006/04/to_the_dogs.php) Did I bite it? Hook, line and sinker. Still bloody gullible.

Who how

Shucks, Tenaga should have harnessed this. Once every five years, an immense gush of hot air spews out of Parliament, enough to run mega-turbines to power the country for months. It happened again on Friday afternoon and lasted for about two hours.

That’s how I see the 9MP. Lots of numbers and statistics thrown about, lots of “will be…”s, and lots of skimming the surface. But no road map. It is a wish list, an advertising campaign, a morale booster, a buffet spread, anything, anything but a Plan.

In my book, Plans tell you how something gets done. A Plan doesn’t happen at the flick of a switch – it takes into account context, history, strengths and weaknesses. You do a ton of prep work before a plan is fortified and ready. And most of all, when the Plan is announced, you would have assembled a team rumbling and ready to deliver.

It’s all about who and how. They define a Plan’s depth and credibility.

Especially so in Pak Lah’s administration, blazing with the highest voting majority in the country’s history, bursting with the promises the rakyat has longed to hear, yet delivering pittance; backtracking, dimming down, spiraling back into the muddy days of the old.

I was in the car when the radio began broadcasting the PM’s speech. I was lost somewhere between Puchong and Kelang Lama which made the ride worthwhile. With every proposal made, with every allocation of RMxxx million, with every ‘will be’ uttered, I’d wonder: “How? Who?”

It was first amusing, then tiring. Then the recent picture flashed back again, the picture I hate, the picture of a mega-spending, non-accountable Malaysia – man, the speech must’ve been like blood to the sharks in the ‘hood. Cronyhood. Feeding frenzy for the next five years.

All these gift-wrapped under a ‘vision’ of Delivery and Implementation.

If recent socio-political events in Malaysia are an indication of the team responsible for the 9MP, I’m eagerly waiting. For the next general elections, that is.

With Harvard suits hired to prescribe to us what we probably already know and more about our public delivery system;
with tudungs as uniforms;
with Bank Negara interfering with Southern Bank’s future;
with Hishamuddin and gang’s objection to the IPCMC;
with Nazri’s ‘Suhakam will have no bite’;
with Zam’s sermons on nationalism;
with calls to change our lifestyle;
with plans for a crooked bridge;
with Digi-no-3G;
with Scomi’s bus contracts;
with an LCCT mind-bogglingly built 20km away from KLIA’s main terminal;
with 50 Umno Youth members giving MP Loh Seng Kok a protest letter for asking for more balanced history books;
with Selayang councilors on a lawatan sambil belajar in South Africa and MPPJ sports club reaping profits from billboard advertisements

how can I have faith in the delivery of the 9MP?

As all things good and foul must come to an end, the earnest closure to the 9MP came in the form of a prayer, choked in emotion:

“…grant us our prayers; guide us to righteousness and to the path that You bless, provide us with people that are sincere, trustworthy, noble and honest; responsible in building a developed nation – building a united people – we forever seek Your blessings, “Towards Excellence, Glory and Distinction”.



I’m surprised at that.

Pak Lah! Your prayers have long been answered and continue to be answered today. There are many Malaysians who are sincere, trustworthy, noble and honest; who want to be responsible in building a developed nation – who want to be a united people. Not many in your team though. And sadly, many too have left – thousands of intelligent, skilled, compassionate people – but not because they are disloyal. Rather they were denied, dejected and disillusioned by previous Malaysia Plans that hinged on equally great promises but delivered lard to the already fat.

Will yours be any different? Who? How?

Feathers

The garden is damp this morning. The snails seem gleeful, moss succulent and green on the brick ledge. It had rained hard the night before. I amble over to the front terrace, stare absentmindedly at the bed of gravel with a mug of Indonesian coffee in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.

Something shifts amongst the branches of one of the Murraya trees. I squint at a clump of organic matter. Hadn’t noticed it there before. It is a nest. Must be new. There is a bird in the nest. It cocks its head here and there in jerky movements. Alert, awake; birds always look alert – they have no bedroom eyes, no Angelina Jolie eyes.

I am thrilled to the bone. Happy as a clam. A bird chooses to share its nest in my home, a simple terrace house with a tiny front yard. This home in the heart of sun-scorched, rat-infested, car-ruled, urban-as-you-can-get SS2, a bird actually thought it was decent real estate. I inch closer, but still five arm-spans away. Time dissolves away. Just the bird and I. Who are you, buddy?

The nest is small – about the size of my mug – made of dried grass and twigs, mostly from the yard. I don’t sweep away fallen leaves nor clear grass cuttings. There is even a stray raffia string woven in amongst the organic stuff with a ten-inch leftover trailing in the breeze. This bird doesn’t fight technology.

The Murrayas in the garden are not tall. I have three of them, and keep them pruned to about six feet high and they provide definition to the garden space. Also as a treat to the olfactory senses; when in bloom, the house smells awesome especially at night. The nest, built without too much finesse between two branches, is just about eye level. Strange that a bird would build here at this height. Strange. Maybe it has not been acquainted with the neighborhood stray cats which leap up 8-foot-high walls without blinking.

I stare at the bird. It cocks one eye my way. It has a white-feathered head the size of a bottle cap and a black beak that’s slender and curved. Its skin is black too. I do not know its species. Love nature, but bird-watching hadn't my cup of tea. The rest of its body is hidden inside the nest. I inch closer for a better look.

Whoosh! It darts off in flight. I spill coffee all over. I fail to catch its trail, still staring at the shaking leaves. I’m tempted to peek inside the nest but I remember an old wives’ tale about birds and nest – that once a bird realizes its home is invaded it’ll abandon it. I withdraw. This bird is more than welcome to stay.

In the shroud of deceit, cover-ups, bigotry, incompetence and stupidity that I abhor in government and that left me so pissed this past two weeks to even write, a little bird came by the tiny garden, built a nest, and for five minutes, collapsed the weariness of my world. Feathered tonic. Neat.

It is evening. I peer over my dusty balcony onto the Murraya bush. From the floor above, one can make out the profile of the nest amidst the leaves. I hold my breath. There is movement – that jerky movement of the head again. The bird has returned. It didn’t abandon the nest.

Good.

Dirt under the carpet

“Duduk, duduk,” said the Syabas technical officer. He was what you’d describe as peramah. Jovial, middle-aged, a simple man in a blue Syabas uniform.

By the end of 20 minutes, I was reaffirmed of two things:
1) Design is a tee-eeeny wee-eeeeny fraction of what it takes to be an architect in Malaysia; you are a reluctant running dog most of the time. Design purist? Hahaha, try another country.
2) Pak Lah has done effectively nothing about corruption in this country. From big fish to small fry. Umm, correction – he has simply done nothing. Period.

Like the Syabas officer, I too am a simple man. All I want is to stay alive for awhile, see the house I am designing get built. The bureaucracy is there to make sure you don't enjoy it. It is a faceless black hole whose answer to every question is a murmur: "Maybe, maybe not."

Sometime in January, the Majlis Perbandaran Kajang’s One-Stop Centre (OSC) had written a letter saying the application to build a house had been approved on condition that the architect obtains a Letter of Endorsement from each of the three autonomous bodies: Syarikat Bekalan Air Selangor (Syabas), Jabatan Perkhidmatan Pembetungan (JPP or Sewerage Dept) and MPKj’s own Jabatan Pembangunan Persekitaran which oversees the sanitary layout and application.

The letter further stated that all three departments had given their verbal approval in an earlier OSC meeting. “Looks like we have approval to start on the house,” I told my clients. We were happy about the relative expedience. Or so it seemed.

It seemed then all that remained was the formality of obtaining the Endorsement Letters, pass on a copy to MPKj, and we’d be issued an approval to start construction in a short time. Dream on, kiddo.

“Ah, ada perkara yang kena pinda lah. Duduk, duduk,” said the Syabas officer at the Ulu Langat Branch in Kajang. He opened the coldwater supply drawings as I sat dumbfounded. It was a diagram which showed the schematic layout of pipes and water-tanks, details of a typical water meter, all done in single-line, coloured and labeled with specifications.

I interjected showing him a copy of OSC’s conditional approval letter, and pointed to the line which says: (iii) Syarikat Bekalan Air Selangor Sdn Bhd – lulus secara lisan.

“Itu cuma secara lisan. Tak kira. Ha, sekarang ni tengok…..” the officer continued. Among other things, I was told to label my water tanks this way, and only this way:
Nominal Capacity: x gallons
Effective Capacity: y gallons
Type of Tank: z

It didn’t matter that in the original I had given all that information and more including the actual dimensions of the water-tanks. I was told to label every pipe although I had chosen to label systems of pipes like how we’d do it in the States eg primary incoming, primary outgoing, feeder pipes to fixtures – just so the drawing is not cluttered with crisscrossing arrows, a golden rule in working drawings. I was also told Syabas now requires a different set of Construction Notes to accompany the drawing, and the officer passes me an A4 sheet full of notes: “Ini you kena taip masuk semula dalam drawing, OK? Yang lama punye semua tak pakai lagi.”

As it turned out, nothing was in error that could result in the loss of life, just graphic modifications. A couple of arrows here, two colons there, use red colour for the Syabas main pipe etc.

When he was done, I asked why all this wasn’t brought up months earlier when I was making the submission. Another officer had looked through the drawings then and accepted it. “Oh, pengarah buat rule baru la.” It didn’t matter if you had submitted months earlier, the demi-god pangarah’s rules are retroactively applied to all projects.

What else to do but to take home the drawings, revise, reprint, re-colour, refold, and resubmit. That was two weeks ago.

I was lamenting to a contractor friend about all this. He said what I didn’t want to hear: “They want money lah. Let me meet them.” I was boiling. My client said he was potentially losing RM10k for every month delayed. Give it a shot, he said.

Friday evening I get a call. “Wah, Syabas pegawai very direct,” said my contractor friend. “He sat down and straightaway asked: Adakah?”

How many “Adakah”s lie ahead, I cannot tell. I can only smell rot.


* * * * *


And so it goes. Extra over for services rendered. Funny how Pak Lah goes about like he’s forgotten what he promised in the budding days of his premiership. Those rosy, vote-earning promises of tackling corruption. That Syabas person is but one of a string of bodies sitting in the interface of the construction industry and sucking money like leeches.

Want more stories?

When I was in a mainstream architecture office, I witnessed a senior Bomba officer upon completing his CF inspection tell the contractor and developer: “We will be having a golf tournament next month. So we’d like to request a donation of RM2,000 cash from you for prizes lah.”

After a TNB substation inspection, the developer of the project I was handling was seen handing over a humongous Hari Raya hamper to the TNB chap at a shadowed portion of the building. Who knows what envelope was in the hamper. It's so commonplace, people find it blase.

The boss of a main contracting company once told me: “In a typical condo project, we hand out bribes of RM30K-40K a month to the many different authorities. When we first started, I thought I could be clean and straight. Run an outfit like the Japanese and Koreans, you know. But even if you play by the rules, keep your truck wash trough clean, fog the area regularly, have harnesses and safety nets, they can and will find something to close you down…. The odd nail sticking out, the odd debris lying around, workers’ quarters.

“Money keeps them away. Let's us do our job. And you know what though? This money has blood on it. Remember the incident of falling steel formwork at Hartamas? If you ask me, the blame reaches very far and wide.”

While at the old workplace, a colleague would tell about how blatant bribes are sought these days at both the Planning and Building Depts at MPPJ. It’s simply a queen’s nest that's ISO 9002 certified. This colleague had first-hand experience. At the foyer of the Planning Dept is a desk with a tag ‘ACA’. Nobody seems to man it. Not long after you greet the officer, he’ll tell you: “Ai say, sports club mau jersey baru lah. Macam? Boss boleh bagi hadiah gah?” They’re no longer coy about it. “Kalau mau cepat, kena bayar upah lah,” even the receptionist communicated to her.

I love architecture and I want to live an honest life. Simple as that. If this is what it takes to practise in Malaysia eternally, if the government continues to be in denial about this cancer, if one has to continue to conform that low, then I shan’t be in Malaysia. Simple as that.


* * * * *

Post script

Among the many officials who deal with members of the building industry, I have met one who stands out as a true gem.

Ms Ong Ay Lee is Assistant Director at the Jabatan Perancang Bandar of Majlis Bandaraya Melaka Bersejarah (MBMB). She cares about her work and Melaka. Once at her office discussing the planning parameters for a parcel of land in the outskirts of the city, we got to talking about development in general. My boss had remarked that Melaka could do with a boost.

“Only if it is managed well, yes. But do you think we should follow KL’s model? I don’t. I have a sister in Cheras. I’m close to her but dread visiting her because of the environment there. But that’s just me.

“There is something in Melaka’s character we want to continue – finer grain, more soulful. We want development to perpetuate that quality. Many a time, big-budget offers have come this way – Singapore money, KL money – and they want to build these flashy townships. Thirty-, forty-storey towers. Whenever I am in the position, I tell them no.”

She spoke about the ideas of Michael Pyatok, urban community planner and champion of affordable housing, who had just been in Malaysia. She is well-read, informed of historic precedents, and has guts to hold her ground.

Her phone rang then. It was an architect reminding her of a CF inspection and offering to pick her up. “No lah. Don’t pick me up. I can find my own way there. I’ll be there in a half hour…. No, no. Really, you don’t have to pick me up. I know Melaka. Melaka is my town lah.”

Amazingly, those were about the same words she used some months earlier. Then, it was regarding a project of ours, although she didn't know it. The contractor had called her on CF inspection day and offered a ride. "No, don't bother. I'll find my way there," she had said. And true enough, she arrived in her basic Proton, did her inspection crisply and then left. In a week, the Surat Sokongan was issued.

Professional babe.

Ms Ong Ay Lee is my hero, a beacon in the murky civil service. I hope she keeps her strength for a long, long time. And I hope she becomes an example, never an oddity.

Crude plans beyond the barrel

I’m surprised given the current climate on world oil and its 30 sen per litre impact here, our government has yet to announce a comprehensive strategy on alternative fuels.

Public transport is one thing – yes, it dearly needs help – but the bigger issue is our dependency on a single fuel commodity… that crude thing called oil.

The relevant economies of the world have long begun to think outside of the barrel. Even more importantly, they have acted on it.

Sweden aims to be free from oil-dependency come 2020 (now, that’s vision for you). In the US, hybrid car sales are generally doubling every year. The streets of Shanghai hum with electric scooters. Seven out of every 10 new cars in Brazil run on ethanol. And in charming Siem Reap, Cambodia, you can now choose to travel around the temples of Angkor on a rented electric bike.

As anybody who follows real news would know, alternative fuels are no longer alternative. A new word shall someday soon emerge to describe this phenomenon. Thanks to advances made from fuel cells to biofuel, oil will lose its totemic relevance.

Meanwhile in Malaysia, a beautiful country with substantial resources, run by a government full on promises but empty on delivery, has yet to put forward a blueprint on it’s future with fuel.

We, the People, want a plan.

We want to know where we’re headed and how we’ll handle the signs of the times. I’m a dreamer sure (I don’t dream about sending Malaysians to space, though), but I don’t think it takes an economist to say we need to diversify our fuel source. And soon; like yesterday.

The government said it too:

“The Malaysian Palm Oil Board (MPOB) and the Malaysia Energy Center have joined hands to increase the public's awareness of Renewable Energy as a fuel source.

In May 2001, the government, through the Ministry of Energy, Communications and Multimedia launched the Small Renewable Energy Power program (SREP) which applies to all sources of energy including biomass, biogas, municipal waste, solar, mini-hydro and wind.

The SREP program is aimed at encouraging the exploitation of Renewable Energy sources as the fifth fuel resource under the country's fuel diversification policy and coincides with the industry's effort for zero waste in the oil palm industry.”

Talk. Is. Cheap.

Again in October 2004, Najib announced a Cabinet Committee on Alternative Fuels has been formed, but has nothing much to show today. It is regrettable that even with the writing on the wall, the government has failed to effectively act on relieving the reliance on fossil fuels.

SREP is not succeeding because the logistics of transferring and converting biomass to electricity in power plants miles away is too immense. It focuses on high-tech, typical of “gaya mau”, wanting to run before learning to crawl.

Sources on alternative fuel range from big-budget industries to do-it-yourself strategies. In the local context, we can get some of these going pronto to relieve folks who are hardest hit in petrol price hikes.

If control was kept local using affordable methods, we’re talking gold here.

Set up cooperatives in alternative fuel to deal with this hardship especially in the rural areas where money is short but not material resource. A cottage industry producing domestic fuel is very feasible. Biofuel – produced from crops, biomass and livesock – can provide a low-tech option for local consumption eg powering diesel machines, generators, and motorboats. Think of it as a 21st century version of the charcoal and firewood cottage industry or the kerosene industry of old.

All it takes is education, organization and a genuine heart.

In fact, if resource is abundant, these cottage industries could transform the material into semi-processed form for easier transport and processing at power plants and fuel refineries and earn a tidy side-income. Think of the smokehouses and mangles shared by small-holder rubber plantations in early Malaya.

True progress is forever lateral; and cottage industries are a relevant component in that pursuit.

And what about electric bikes and scooters? It may be what our cities need to supplement an improved public transportation system. Hey, I'd like to get one for my shorter trips.

Unfortunately, I am not equipped to be constructive. There is as always a lack of information on the side of the government about what is really going on. Oftentimes it’s one chest-thumping announcement at a launch, then all goes quiet. And the cronies go to feed.

All I ask is a good plan.

A thoughtful plan – described lucidly for public feedback with a team who can deliver. Something that addresses in breadth and elegance the issue of fuel in society. Public transport is only a subset of that.

As you know, a sincere vision gains more mileage without the need for spin such as “change our lifestyle”, Ong Ka Ting riding the LRT, and “35 sen for a teh tarik”. Politicians are obliged to rise above that.

Khidmat Negara Ver 2.0

The last time I saw Isaac, he was flushed with life. Over bottles of microbrew, he related his experiences at Habitat for Humanity, Portland OR. He had come back to college-town Eugene for a short break, and to catch up with his Malaysian housemate. Isaac was helping to build houses for the lower income; that’s what the non-profit organization is all about. He’d made new buddies there, he told me, and he was amazed at volunteer turnouts especially on weekends.

“Guys were just streaming in with hammers and saws just asking if there was anything they could help out. Fat, fair, scrawny, they all came. And damn, some of those women can build as fine a wall if there ever was one,” he said, “There was much love.”

At some point in that autumn evening of feel-good stories, it struck me that this was what my country was all about, too – you know, the whole gotong-royong, Rukun Tetangga thing. At least my teenaged memory of it, rose-tinted no doubt. In my memory, all that seemed a very natural process back home. Berat sama dipikul, ringan sama dijinjing. Ya ‘bang, berganding bahu.

I mean, those were the years before Malaysia Boleh, before the continued refraction of the light of our people into race and religion, before the big-money scandals, before the sacking of Chief Judge Salleh Abbas and the subsequent emasculation of the Judiciary, before many, many things.

“There was much love,” Isaac had said. And now being back, I’m a mite sad. And I’m just picking through the fragments wondering if there may be a bona fide path we can take to being more integrated again. You know, those Sudirman days, those P Ramlee and Saloma days. I think there is. I think it lies in the hearts of youths.

Along the muddy banks of Malaysia’s many government schemes lies a gem waiting to be really discovered. If harnessed well, I believe Khidmat Negara could possibly pave the way to the ideals you and I uphold for this land. Its current form is limpid and reaching a dead end. Rather it will take creativity and will to reach its true potential. Plus learning from others, if we’re not too proud that is.

Which brings me back to Isaac. Isaac hooked up with Habitat via AmeriCorps (http://www.americorps.gov/about/ac/index.asp), one of the most inspired ideas to emerge from the Clinton Administration back in 1993. It is the US’ version of national service without the military crap. Instead it focuses on community service and rewards each participant with education funds. So at the end of the day, my buddy Isaac came out richer in soul and lighter in financial debt. Win-win, if you ask me.

We can take a cue from all this.

When Malaysia first mooted Khidmat Negara (http://www.khidmatnegara.gov.my/utama.htm), it was framed with noble values. In 2003, the government espoused the virtues of such a program with a five-point objective:

• Develop patriotism


• Enhance unity


• Instill caring spirit in society


• Produce well-rounded people


• Reinforce good values

Now, let’s ask ourselves this – can this objective only be met through a military-style modus? I can understand a military-based national service in Singapore. It is an elite citystate not entirely in sync with its Nusantara cousins. I can understand Israel and Korea. I don’t understand Malaysia’s approach. Really, why did we choose the regimented path? It strikes me that there wasn’t enough rigour exercised in thinking through the program.

To make national service fruitful, we must first dig deep into our society’s psyche and core values and ask what is the cultural makeup of Malaysia. Who are our youths and what are their characteristics, their aspirations and concerns? How do we meld these together? Only with such findings can we come up with a scheme that is genuine to our goals of integration.

Alas, not equipped with any solid data, I can only intuit an alternative idea. It’s something I’ve been pondering over a bit and suffers from rough edges. For lack of expertise, I shan’t try to sand those down. Just explore the core idea.

Overview
I think our national service should be structured more like a Liberal Arts stint in real life in real Malaysia – sorta learn more about the world and yourself while giving back to society. It should offer as much exposure to individuals who are otherwise limited because of family funds or opportunities to see and experience the many layers of our land and its people. It should invite youths to explore and tap their skills.

Call it an internship on Practical Civics. Formal education in school supplies the basics, developing real values come from direct experience.

Many essential and community services in Malaysia need support but are not getting it. Whether because of funds, manpower or imagination, we find ourselves stunted. National service can help plug unique gaps that exist in our society: the maintenance, governance, research and development of these services. It should seize the booster shot of energy that youths bring. Hence, Khidmat Negara should be moved out of the Defence Ministry’s portfolio and into the Ministry of Youth and Sports. And it should be a program of substance not patriotic songs, physical training and foot-drills.

National service should be lengthened to approximately a year, say. To be fulfilling, it has to be substantial. Three months doesn’t get anybody anywhere.

But first, who are we. What are our blocks?

The youths among us – General Observations
Compass points: Compared to developed countries, I believe in general we find our bearings later in life. It's tied to how and where we are brought up. It was certainly true for me. In Form 6, I wanted to be a doctor la, an engineer la, Indiana Jones la …I honestly didn’t know what I wanted. Same went for many of my friends, and I suspect the same goes for many teenagers today.

Talent suppressed: I met many people in school and university who were really talented musicians, dancers, sportsmen, or artists who ended up doing medicine, law, economics or a runs a gerai in a pasar malam. Kim Loke was a fantastic footballer, captain of his state team. He became a civil engineer. Adnan, whom I knew in Form 2, could paint the most wonderful portraits. Last I heard he was selling nasi campur in Kuantan. Many among us choose to turn away from our calling for a more secure profession. No market lah. I think it’s because because there were not many avenues. I still hear news about these folks every now and then and many have switched dreams and are busy feeding their family. For them, the music died. Our socio-economic landscape could do with more diversity.

Lack of exposure: The urban-rural divide is more acute as cities become more sophisticated while the sleepy villages remain their charming selves. Consequently, one half is increasingly ignorant of the other. And a residue of this is suspicion.

In one stroke, national service can and should try to address these issues.

Flexibility in Structure – Providing Choice:
I do not agree with the current camp setup where youths are put through a regiment of modules. It’s Cold War thinking. It’s monoculture.

Conversely, we should believe and invest in our in-built diversity to strive for dynamic integration. The philosophy ought to be about way-finding. If a person is allowed to pursue his/her interests, you’ve just turbocharged that person’s life. At most, conscripts go through a brief orientation period – say two weeks – before they are posted to the department or organization of their choice.

The keyword is Choice. Good structures typically accommodate a larger set of options and possibilities and NS ought to be modeled that way. Involve as many organizations – federal, state and local government, GLCs and non-profits – as practically possible. This also decentralizes the budget needed to run the overall program.

Because some services will be more in demand than others, there should be a ballot method with substitute choices.

Choice of Service
Conscripts get to opt for the kind of service they want. Clearly, there are many ways to organize the categories. Below is only an idea and, I admit, a clumsy one. The bodies mentioned are only a sampling.

Essential services: Customs and immigration, forest rangers, libraries, police force, fire department, Rukun Tetangga and residents committee, local councils, JKR, Drainage and Irrigation, education and schools, Lands and Mines, postal service, Telekom, KTM, LRT, public transport.
Media, arts and crafts: TV and radio stations, Bernama, Kraftangan.
Social work and healthcare: Hospices, orphanages, halfway houses, hospitals.
Sports: Various sports agencies and associations.
Agriculture: Felda, Felcra, RRIM, FRIM, fisheries.
NGOs: Sahabat Alam Malaysia, Red Crescent Society, UNHCR, World Wildlife Foundation, Consumers Association of Penang, Suaram.

The scope of duties in each body can vary. The Land and Mines may want to upgrade its national land survey but have not been able to embark because of manpower and funds. Taman Negara may want to continue its inventory of the flora and fauna in Sarawak’s Mulu Caves. The squash association may have dreams of an energetic outreach program but needs manpower.

It is then the duty of these organizations to package the scope well. They have to if they want to draw the right youths. It is the task of Jabatan Latihan Khidmat Negara to collate these offers into a neat understandable packet, not unlike a university brochure listing all its programs. In fact, JLKN's role approximates a big university's administration.

In the longer term, talent, skill and temperament should ideally be matched. The youths are now a resource. They are now relevant.

Choice of Duration
There should be options for a focused stint versus that for a varied experience.

Single-Post Option: For conscripts who are clear in what they want out of the program. They only seek to pursue that certain activity. A young musician may want to be attached to Dewan Filharmonik, well and good. A sea-lover just wants to be in the Navy, all’s well.

Three-Post Option: For those who want to see more of our land and experience various services. Each conscript signs up for three different assignments of about four months each. For instance, he may choose the Forest Rangers, then a rural hospital, then KTM.

Choice of Location
Conscripts get to choose where they’d like to get attached with at least half the period in a setting different from their current situation. A rural girl has to spend half her service in a city setting and vice-versa. Sabah and Sarawak will get equal opportunity both ways.

Choice of Deferment
Conscripts can spread out the program over three years if they so choose. Perhaps many may opt to overlap with their college experience – using the year-end break and hence gather more focus in their chosen field of study. Yet others, early school-leavers perhaps, may use it to find if there’s another vocation that suits them.

Responsibility to Civil Defence
Conscripts will be mobilized during any civil defence exercise depending on location and magnitude. These may be in the form of natural disaster relief like the Boxing Day tsunami, drought, the TTDI Jaya flood, forest fires, landslides, and possibly bird flu pandemic. They provide the most immediate support to relief efforts from ferrying supplies to first aid.

Net Gain – Lateral Development, Exposure and a Woven Nation
It would be super if NS, like AmeriCorps, could be coupled with the pursuit of higher or continued education via fee vouchers. I believe we could do our country a lot of good this way. We would have provided for a far richer education while simultaneously upgrading our network of services. Our civil service would be conceivably more efficient, our core values actualised, our culture more textured and diverse.

We can begin to cultivate an encyclopedia of experiences based on the collective. We would have ploughed and prepped the fields of the various sectors and can now dream of real innovation.

Out in the swamps of Morib, an 18-year-old girl helps to revitalize a mangrove swamp under a revamped Khidmat Negara. At 20, she decides to major in Marine Biology because she’s excited about it. Up north in the country, a boy helps RTM producers put together a documentary on rice-farming. He may just be carrying cables for the film crew, he may be a makeup artist. But at 20, he’s in film school. In a school for the handicapped, a blind girl helps disabled children read and write. She may end up the prime-mover for a more disabled-friendly built environment.

Of course, Khidmat Negara will not be the miracle cure for our problems. Many will go through it unaffected. Many will still drift around without firm bearings. But it is about placing doors where once there were walls. Whosoever reaches to open, opens into a renewed Wawasan 2020. The net effect can be just wonderful.

Mean it

Sometime last month, Sweden announced: We aim to be an oil-free economy by 2020.

That’s ambitious even by its own lofty standards. But there’s something to be said, rather taken to heart, about this country of nine million people. Sweden doesn’t boast much. Nor does it do the sales and propaganda talk – no ‘Truly Europe’ slogans, no tallest building bids, no Stockholm-jaya; no need. Just Sweden, land of Volvo, Saab, SKF, ABB, Husqvarna, Electrolux, Ikea…. The list goes on. Other than that it pretty much keeps quiet and prefers to let its work and play do the talking.

That’s why it’s taken seriously. So when the Swedish minister of sustainable development Mona Sahlin said: “Our dependency on oil should be broken by 2020,” the world sat up and listened.

And justifiably so. It has a veritable track record for getting things done. Not just in industry and services, but the sciences, arts, sports and the humanities – think Alfred Nobel, Linnaeus, Celsius, Hasselblad, Abba, Ace of Base, Ingmar Bergman, Bjorn Borg, Stefan Edberg, Annika Sorenstam… I’m out of breath.

The point is not about Sweden although I am fascinated by the Scandinavian states in general. The point is about doing it right. Less talk already. Nine million people in a country about 1-1/2 times the size of Malaysia, when enabled and given the chance, will collectively walk the walk.

*********

The Malaysian government on Tuesday cut back its petrol subsidy by 30 sen for every litre. In that one move, it stands to save RM4.4 billion which it intends to inject into “national development” projects, especially public transportation. Najib, who chairs the Cabinet Committee on Fuel Prices, went live on TV yesterday and talked the talk. Whether this government will walk is another story.

I am skeptical. The government of Malaysia does not have a good track record when it comes to getting things done. In the first place it often lacks a solid plan, something which ties into a holistic goal. Proton – set up to jumpstart a national automotive industry – was a poor idea from the beginning. That was probably the beginning of Mahathir’s heroic vision and mega-whatever. Back in 1985, we did not have the necessary history and culture to handle such an industry and it continues to haunt us today.

See, we’re plagued by two major syndromes which we’ve failed to tackle all this while – “Gaya Mau” and “Aiyah”. It has made us desire a lot but not work for it. There’s a coarse, half-assed quality to many things that we do. Our buildings are half-assed, our infrastructure is half-assed, our civil service is half-assed… Instead it has formed a habit of leaving hands outstretched for perks. It also makes us talk a lot. A lot of it, so it turns out is rubbish. We’ve been spammed. Cekap, Bersih, Amanah. Cemerlang, Gemilang, Terbilang. Engineered to Exhilarate. Petaling Jaya – Ke Arah Bandar Bestari. Selangor the Developed State.

Talk, here, is very cheap.

The government, since administrations past, has set the pace of broken promises and dreams that are out of sync with the culture and too big for it to maintain. Wayang, they are good at, not much thereafter. KLIA is a farce as an international hub; you seen the arrival and departure screens and how they are dominated by MAS and AirAsia flights? So much for “Bringing the World to Malaysia”. It boasts state-of-the-art equipment but we only hear of security breaches and systems breakdown. Cyberjaya is a farce with a museum called the E-Village, but it’s a nice lallang field otherwise. And mark my words, Putrajaya will be a bigger joke than the lifeless Shah Alam – evidence of simple urban design lessons yet unlearned. Bakun Dam? Adoi. The list can go on, and I’d be out of breath.

Talk, talk, talk. Just talk. It has become arguably Malaysia’s most successful national campaign to date. It’s so successful, this lifestyle has seeped right down to the grassroots. I mean, try naming 10 people you trust to really deliver at work. I can’t. Instead, I get responses like “I’ll call you back with the info” and you don’t hear from them again or “It’ll be finished in two weeks” but it takes two months.

And when it’s not possible to talk you to death, they’ll kill you with its paper equivalent – bureaucracy. Consider this: FedEx can send a parcel to Timbuktu in 48 hours with just the pertinent information entered in a small form. The company has a new tagline: Relax, it’s FedEx. It strives to live up to that claim.

Now, to add a tiny terrace to a semi-D house in KL, you have to prepare a bundle of drawings and documents for planning approval before submitting for a building permit. If you’re lucky, the entire two-stage process alone will take six months before a hole can even be dug. DBKL has a tagline too – Bersedia Menyumbang, Bandaraya Cemerlang. Nobody takes that seriously.

It all points to one thing. The government has a lot of ground to make up if it is serious about the people. It has put into words its blueprint for a better Malaysia. Integrity, transparency, all those feel-good verses. Meanwhile, tenders remained closed, local councilors still go to faraway exotic places to look at toilets, newspapers get suspended, a new chicken slaughterhouse in Selayang will cost RM20 million (gadzooks!)… the list can go on, and I’d be out of breath.

By all means, reduce the petrol subsidies. I don’t fault its rationale. I fault its implementation and am very curious about its motives.

If the government had been serious about public transport, it would’ve initiated dialogues prior to the petrol price hike long ago, not as a result of it. There would have been a campaign in full momentum by now, not just warming up with the announcement of a Cabinet Committee on Wednesday. These after-the-fact moves are not convincing at all and, if anything, prove to being plain silly.

With RM4.4 billion in the purse, I’d really wish those Boleh folks showed more heart. I really wish they’d act.

I really wish I could believe.