Unruly rule of Law?

https://www.hitamputih.blog/post/najibs-pardon-can-it-be-challenged

Among my many indulgences is listening to real crime podcasts. More often than not, the prosecutor and the family victims go all out to ensure that the accused, in murder trials, gets the ultimate punishment, the death penalty. The victims feel their grief is not resolved unless and until the accused is punished to what is accepted by them as appropriate. If the trial ends in their favour, they would say in the post-trial interview that justice was served and they can carry on with their lives.

Occasionally, I hear of their victims’ kin saying that whatever punishment is meted out will never bring back the victim or bring back the life they missed. No punishment is severe enough to right the wrong. If the sentence does not fall in their favour, they would promise to continue fighting till the end of time.

Very rarely indeed, I have heard of the victims forgiving the assailants and letting them start a new slate. In such cases, those forgiven feel an instant relief from their burdens. Their head feels light. That, they say, is the magic of forgiving.

Humans, from time immemorial, had faith in the legal system as the higher authority to mete out justice. Assuming the legal system is only second to God in fairness, it has been likened to a divine decree.

Lately, in Malaysia since 2008, people have been talking about the rule of law and about Malaysians not glorifying criminals as heroes.

Now, we know that this statement is contextual. When the accused is linked to a particular political party, he may have been falsely accused and have had evidence planted by his enemies. He is, however, guilty as sin if he is in the opposition. Trial by media is popular. Everyone is a legal expert, and the loudest and the most foul-mouthed must surely be right. If, earlier, everyone thought ‘rule of law should prevail’, now the same people will rant that the legal system is compromised and engaged in selective prosecution.

Suddenly, the idea that the law of the land is supreme is no longer relevant.

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Have pedals can travel!

In the 1960s, when the Malaysian government, under the aegis of the first Prime Minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman, proposed building a modern highway, the Federal Highway, to ease traffic in the Klang Valley, it drew considerable flak from the Opposition. They said it was a sheer waste of money.

The same kind of antagonism arose in the early 80s when the ruling government considered it another waste of money when a modern toll highway along the spine of the Peninsula was announced. The opposition also cited profiteering and the enrichment of cronies' coffers as the basis for their position. Still, the leaders successfully bulldozed their plan.

Undeniably, these projects have brought so much development to the country. One cannot imagine Malaysia without these highways, and life would not have been the same without the minister responsible for the roads, Samy Vellu, and his antics.

This was the first thought that came to my mind when I participated in a fellowship ride in Cyberjaya recently. It was an 88-km ride organised by the Development Board of the State of Selangor (PKNS) as a sin-washing, oops, CSR, Corporate Social Responsibility project. It was named the Selangor International Ride (SIR), but the only thing close to being international about it must surely be the expatriates who participated. I do not think anyone travelled all the way to partake in this event. It was not a race, there was no podium for medals, and there were no prizes. Just like in India, where SIR (Special Intensive Revision) of the Electoral Roll is chasing away illegal immigrants from places like West Bengal, SIR (Selangor International Ride) kept competitive cyclists away.

The ride was led by a lead police car and outriders, which created a safe gap for cyclists to speed up until they approached the water stations at the 40km and 60km marks. Here, the convoy would stop, regroup and restart after a short break. So, it was not a race, and there was no race chip to record participants' times.

The intriguing thing is the intricate lattice of well-paved dual-carriage roads that serve this whole area. From the Selangor Cyber Valley Lake Park, the convoy moved around the dull, imposing infrastructure surrounding Cyberjaya. In the 90s, Cyberjaya was earmarked to be Malaysia's answer to Silicon Valley. It promised to attract investors and market players by providing high-speed internet free from government controls, with information flowing seamlessly like rivers of glaciers. 30 years on, everyone realised it was just an afternoon post-prandial daydream that cleared when it became clear it was time to go back to work. In 2025, the police are more diligent at being a thought police than at going on their beat rounds, managing traffic, or keeping the community safe.

After completing a short loop near the starting point, the mammoth structure came into view: the Cyberjaya government hospital. Funny, less than 15 minutes' drive was another huge government hospital, the Putrajaya Hospital. In a sparsely populated area, it is mind-boggling that the powers that be deemed it necessary to have two large hospitals so close together. In contrast, other State hospitals, such as KLGH, Sg Buluh, and Selayang Hospital, were packed to the brim. Some things in life remain unanswered. This is one of them; the other may include the strange disappearance of MH370.

Technically, the bureaucrats would tell us that both hospitals are in different districts. One is in Putrajaya, whereas the other is in the Sepang district. From Cyberjaya, we slowly moved towards Sepang town and its vicinity.

The first time I saw the word 'Sepang' was when I was a teenager. It was written on a bus in thick, bold Tamil script. In fact, it was the only bus company that used Tamil lettering and operated solely on the Sepang route. During those days, rubber and oil palm estates covered these areas. To cater to its passengers, who were mainly plantation workers well-versed in Tamil, such arrangements were considered necessary. 

http://worldabh.info/evobus/benz/of1313/photo01.html

An interesting banner I saw outside a construction site while cycling read 'Keep Sepang Green and Clean'. I thought that message reeked of hypocrisy to the viewer. The whole area was green in the first place, cooling the air and reducing greenhouse gases on the planet. But no! In the name of development, to keep up with the rest of the world, we needed a brand new airport. A new town had to be started from scratch to prove our sovereignty. Industrial estates, expensive bungalows, and housing lots became essential. After clearing the trees, now we want to re-green them. That is the price of development, I suppose. What is development, purists may ask. But even the most spiritually inclined among us may feel that monetary offerings can help spread the Word more smoothly. 

Our journey took us to the outskirts of Banting and Kuala Langat, where we made our initial stop. There were hardly any challenging terrains to overcome. The temperature was mild for Malaysian standards, staying around 25 degrees Celsius throughout the ride. 

After a 15-minute break, the convoy reconvened and headed towards Sepang town proper and Dengkil town. Here, there was a slight inclination near the district office that needed to be conquered. After that, it was all flat all the way. 

A bit of forgotten history of Dengkil was not known to me when I passed through these few points, which are worth mentioning. It had long been of interest to archaeologists, who discovered ancient human activities dating back to the Neolithic period. This period in our history occurred between 10,000 BCE and 2,000 BCE, when humans evolved from hunter-gatherers to settled communities. Tin ore mining was an important industry in Dengkil from the 1920s. At the height of its prosperity, the Dengkil area boasted of having seven large modern dredges. During this period of exploration, bronze bowls, ceramic ware, stone tools, pottery, and agricultural implements from that era were found. Around that time, rubber plantations and Indian migrant workers came to occupy the region. The Chinese were brought in to work the tin mines. The pre-existing Malays in the area could not be persuaded to work for the colonial authorities, hence the need for migrant workers.

Kampong Jenderam Hilir, which we encountered on our route, is an important archaeological site located at the confluence of Sg Langat and Sg Semenyih. Bukit Piatu, which we saw signboards for, yielded a pottery shed.

The 1950s saw the creation of new villages by the Malaysian High Commissioner, Gerald Templer, and his men to combat communists. These settlements were another name for concentration camps. The British sold the idea of winning a war through a 'heart and mind' strategy to undermine communist activities.

Bukit Unggul Golf & Country Club
Courtesy Eric Lim

Paya Indah Wetlands, which is situated in the Sepang district, has seen better days. After flattening the land around Putrajaya and the KLIA (the airport in a jungle), maybe as an afterthought, after brutalising so much of Mother Nature, a disused tin mine was engineered as a wetland to showcase the tropics' fauna and flora. To enhance its allure, the Botswana government donated four hippopotamuses. Pelicans, crocodiles and porcupines were added for good measure. The Wetlands are rarely visited these days.

There is another rarely mentioned news of the oppression of the Orang Asli that has been going on here. The Temuan tribe, who had lived in Bangi, was relocated in the 1970s when their land was used to build the UKM campus. They were given a plot of land around Bukit Tunggul in Dengkil. In 1993, a private golf course was planned to be built on their land. After years of confrontation, by obstructing water and electricity supply, the Court of Appeal, in 2005, reserved that piece of land as their ancestral land. Things, however, are not all hunky dory for the Temuan people.

The ride finally ended back in Cyberjaya with much pomp and splendour. Another ride, another venture to another part of the country not often explored by the mainstream, or at least city slickers. The best way to explore any place is to take a slow voyage on foot or pedal power. Have pedal can travel!

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When the lion tells its story...

History has nothing to do with the narrator’s gender. Yet it has everything to do with the validity of his narrative, the narrative of the victors. The history lessons that were shoved down our throats during our schooling days are increasingly being disputed for their authenticity, reeking of imperialists' vested interest. It stands as a living proof of justifying Western powers' action to fulfil the duty of the white man's burden - to go forth to civilise and bring development to the natives. In the post-colonial era, historians continued to preach the subject from a leftist angle, glorifying Western power and downplaying Eastern society.

In the 21st century, history is no longer the dry subject that it used to be. With many natives now well-versed in European languages, they can tell their side of the story. As the African proverb goes, 'Until the lion tells its story, the hunt will always glorify the hunters', the natives can now tell how they were highly civilised way before the Westerners 'discovered' them and 'civilised' them.

The 21st century sees two types of historians: the first, a nationalistic one who tries to put the nation in a positive light, and the second, those who parrot the success of the hunters.

Closer to home, in Malaysia, a lecturer at one of the premier public universities has been going around making outlandish claims about the country's ancestors. Her assertions have been so ludicrous, but she has been receiving a lot of attention from the general public. She is a cult figure of sorts. Her statements include things like one of Prophet Muhammad's wives was a Malay, that the Malay DNA is not linked to Yunnan ancestry in China but to the Arabs, and lately she uttered that the Malays gave the Romans lessons in shipbuilding.

The funny thing is that none of her theories are challenged by fellow academics. For the record, the said soon-to-be Professor, Solehah Yaakob, is not a historian; she is trained in Arabic language studies. Her sentiments are in line with the racial hegemony that the ruling government is trying to propagate. To keep their voters happy, the leaders constantly hammer home grandiose ideas that magnify their ancestors' feats. They rule by feeding a constant diet of fear, telling the public of a conspiracy from within and without to topple the dominance of the majority in the country. Her outrageous claims augur well in boosting the ego of the majority.

Everyone knows what she is saying is not right. But Malaysians are too polite. Nobody wants to bell the cat. They do not want to seem to upset the status quo. It is their rice bowl they have to be concerned with, above all! 

In a healthy intellectual society, everyone should be able to speak from their mind. Each opinion should not be consumed as a divine decree but should be debated intelligently. In retaliation, the opinion should be supported by hard facts and proof. They need not run behind politicians to cling to their petticoats for validation, as is happening now.

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Not funny

It was a local cycling event with the usual thrills and frills. It was a fun event. It was not a race. People came in dressed in masks and capes. There was a chap who wore a Viking helmet with cowhorn-like horns to give a fiesta feel to everyone around. 

Close to a thousand riders thronged the much-delayed, newly paved expressway that would bring people all the way from Ampang to Putrajaya and beyond.

For the bystanders, it must have been a sight to behold. Rows of cyclists in tight-fitting gears all going in a single file must have tickled the onlookers to the bones. 

So there were a group of cyclists in front of me who were boisterously rolling along the highway. Manning the traffic was a group of Bangladeshi foreign workers. They, too, were fascinated with the event of the day. They, too, whipped out their mobile devices to record the race.

One of the racers in front of me quipped, "hey, give a good pose. For all you know, you would be appearing on Bangla Youtube!" (closest translation)

https://www.amazon.com/Authentic-Reproduction-
Viking-Warrior-Helmet/dp/B008E4DFYW

It was an uncalled-for conversation. Just like everyone else, a foreigner or a general worker also has their likes and dislikes. He, too, wants to capture a momentous moment or share a scene that he wants others to see. Just because he is from the working class and is from a country considered to be in the lower rung of socioeconomic status, his action is by no means a justification for mocking. 

Another thing, YouTube is universal. There is no such thing as a Bangla YouTube or a Myanmarese one, but the local language may be. Now, with subtitles and audio choices, the world is one. 

Unfortunately, most Malaysians are like this - condescending and feeling one-up against each other. We suffer from so much insecurity that we pin others down to convince ourselves that we are doing alright. It is a form of cognitive dissonance. 

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Fliers taken for a ride?

oneworldvirtual.org/fleet/models/malaysia-airlines-boeing-737-8h6wl

Fliers in Malaysia are treated like flies. They are taken for granted, akin to how flies are viewed in the wet market—an accepted but necessary annoyance. Since the emergence of low-cost carriers and the widespread use of the internet for bookings, travelling has never been easier. 

Once the enticement concludes with super saver offers and the fabricated excitement that seats are selling out quickly, and once the transactions are finalised, the ball will be in the airlines' court. They have the freedom to postpone, cancel, and reschedule any trip to meet their business requirements, ensuring maximum returns. Multiple flights can be consolidated into a single journey if there are few passengers on a specific route. They do not owe their customers any explanation. In fact, contacting them is made nearly impossible. If customers persist, they can be redirected to chatbots, but only after verifying that the customers are indeed human. Humans must also pass the Turing test. The irony is that now machines are confirming humans to be humans!

Airlines may conceal behind the pretext of technical reasons, which can vary from a pilot failing to arrive for duty to a missing jet engine. 

It was a long weekend filled with wedding invitations, one or two at a time, back to back. Amidst this, a dear friend succumbed to a heart attack, making the weekend resemble a scene from 'Four Weddings and A Funeral', though with less masala.

I had booked a flight to Johor Bahru for 2:40 pm on a Friday. I thought there would be just enough time to finish off work and rush to the airport.

 

A few days before the flight, an email arrived informing me that the flight would be delayed by an hour, to 3:40 pm. This was fine, as the wedding was scheduled to start at 7 pm. It provided ample time to settle in and join the merriment. 

Once again, a day before the journey, there is another announcement. The plane now takes off an hour later, at 4:35 pm. How convenient. Of course, they offered a refund if the change was unacceptable, but one can only imagine the inconveniences and extra costs incurred if a new order is placed relatively close to the departure date. The airline can obscure their responsibilities under the often unread contract that customers must agree to before purchasing their tickets - it is the prerogative of the airline to delay, postpone, or even cancel the flight. 

Anyway, I made the trip in time for the function.

 

My return flight was scheduled for the following morning, the first one out at 6:30 am. If leaving early and rushing to the airport at an unearthly hour to arrive before the stipulated time was not enough, imagine how frustrating it is when the flight is delayed. Why was there a delay when the airport was clear, the weather was fine, and the plane was just starting its journey for the day? It's anybody's guess—no announcement and, obviously, no apologies. 

The reason people prefer air travel over driving in Malaysia, which boasts an extensive highway network admired globally, is the convenience it offers. The unpredictability of traffic conditions makes driving burdensome, especially for short trips. Although the travel time is comparable in both scenarios, the freshness factor becomes a significant consideration. The time needed to reach the airport, check in two hours before departure, and wait will be similar if one were to drive to the equivalent destination on the west coast of Peninsula Malaysia.

 

It appears that Malaysians are being taken for fools. They find themselves at the mercy of these operators, be they local budget carriers or regular airlines. There may be a need for assertive customers with a mob mentality, rather than the compliant, submissive ones they typically encounter here.

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A Rallying Cry!

The War Against Indians(2025)

150 Years of Betrayal, Suppression and Injustice in Malaya & Malaysia.

Author: Suthan Mookaiah

At the outset, the author does not claim the book as a literary work. He professes to merely inking his lived experiences. The sales of his books are a legitimate revenue source for him, as he funds upliftment programmes in Tamil Schools through his movement, Maatram.

Sollayah grew up in Taman West Country, a former estate land in Kajang. He saw the estates in Malaysia flattened in the heady days of Mahathirism. In the rapaciousness to make Malaysia a developed nation by 2020 and produce mega-millionaires of a certain denomination, the country was in heat. There was a land rush. Apparently, nobody, including the Indian leaders who were meant to represent them, had the inkling to think of the millions of Indians who had at least two to generations of a family whose world only revolved around the rubber estates and their surroundings.

Nobody thought of having the ex-estate workers vocational training or structured living programmes. Most economic developmental ideas initiated by its leader went into disarray. The Tamil schools were left unfunded with their structures in deplorable states. Community leaders of other groups were smart enough to care for the down line whilst the Indians were busy fattening their own coffers and running down each other.

The author's father had the wisdom to send his son to be educated in a national school (as compared to a Tamil school, as most nostalgic ex-estate dwellers would) despite the financial restraints. The author's father was odd-jobbing as a grasscutter. Suthan's studies enabled him to secure him a comfortable remuneration overseas. He returned to his homeland around the turn of the last decade and decided to pay back to the society he grew up in.

Through his movement, he tries to expose the decades of systemic marginalisation of the community after the collapse of the plantation economy. He tries to give dignity to Tamil Schools and stop the indiscriminate destruction of Hindu temples. The criminalisation of Indian youth is worrisome.

The author suggests the community to use the power of social to learn and disseminate useful information to hurl up the community to sturdy grounds.

He sells his book through the TikTok shop.

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An Autobiography - Prof Dr Hematram Yadav

 

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