Politics Should Never Be the Source of Our Moral Values

By Dr Jahaberdeen Mohamed Yunoos

 

Politics should never be the source of moral values, national unity, or genuine human compassion. If anything, politics is often the art of division disguised as governance. The sooner we realise this truth, the sooner we can begin the serious task of building a society rooted in empathy, justice, and human dignity—values that transcend race, religion, and the pursuit of power.

We must reject the naïve expectation that political actors will lead the moral or spiritual direction of a nation. Their primary motivation is not the cultivation of a just and humane society—it is the acquisition and retention of power. Power brings influence, wealth, and control. That is the core pursuit of politics, and moral integrity is rarely its compass.

Populism over Principles

Politicians, especially in democracies, do not govern by principle. They govern by numbers. This means they will always prioritise populist narratives that appeal to the majority, even if it marginalises the minority or undermines long-term societal well-being. Principles of justice, compassion, and equality are often sacrificed at the altar of electoral gain.

In Malaysia, political rhetoric continues to revolve around cmunal identity—race and religion are the favourite themes. “Defending race and religion” becomes a repeated slogan, not a deeply held conviction. It is used to invoke fear, provoke insecurity, and consolidate support among one’s perceived political base. Instead of challenging racial and religious bigotry, many politicians exploit it. They do not unite the people; they divide and conquer.

Disturbingly, we are now seeing younger politicians emulate and perpetuate these same divisive and opportunistic political behaviours. Many of them, rather than becoming reformers, are merely more eloquent versions of the past. They adopt the same playbook—emotionally charged slogans, racial pandering, manufactured outrage, and short-term symbolism over genuine substance. The same toxic cycle continues, just with younger faces.

Race and Religion as Political Tools

True leadership uplifts, educates, and unites. But political survival in Malaysia often depends on the opposite—on creating imagined enemies and defending imagined threats. Race and religion are weaponised to maintain political roles and secure voter loyalty. When Malaysians are divided, there is always room for a politician to present themselves as a “protector” of their group.

This strategy has devastating consequences for national unity. Our institutions, policies, and even educational content are often influenced more by racial arithmetic than by universal ethics. Policies are frequently crafted to appease communal insecurities rather than to promote justice across the board. The language of equality is rarely spoken in Parliament unless it is politically safe.

In schools, children are subtly segregated by language streams and cultural framing. Many grow up with limited exposure to other communities. By the time they are adults, this lack of socialisation becomes fertile ground for suspicion and prejudice—ready to be exploited by politicians.

Toxic Values Reinforced by Political Convenience

Politics in Malaysia not only fails to challenge regressive values—it reinforces them. The blind obedience to authority, the culture of silence in the face of wrongdoing, patriarchal structures, homophobia, and the fear of difference are often defended as “tradition” or “Asian values.” These are not values; they are chains.

Survivors of domestic abuse are often urged to stay silent “for the family.” Religious dissenters are demonised. Victims of racism are told not to “question the system.” And politicians, ever pragmatic, rarely challenge these oppressive norms. Why would they? These norms help preserve the status quo. These norms help win elections.

Instead of guiding citizens toward more ethical and compassionate thinking, politicians fuel the very toxicities that keep people divided, fearful, and emotionally reactive. The more divided and reactive the population, the easier it is to control.

The Illusion of Reform

We hear much about “national reform,” especially when new coalitions come to power. But reform is not merely changing faces or renaming institutions. True reform requires educating the citizenry, fostering critical thinking, and promoting a culture of compassion and civic responsibility. This is exactly what most politicians fear.

A thinking, compassionate, and morally upright population is difficult to manipulate. It demands answers. It sees through empty slogans. It refuses to be ruled by fear. This is why we rarely see political platforms that genuinely promote critical education, interfaith understanding, or deep institutional reform. Those who try are often sidelined.

Even judicial independence, media freedom, and anti-corruption efforts are often used selectively—highlighted when politically convenient and buried when they threaten vested interests. The lack of consistency itself is a form of moral decay.

Where Then Do We Learn Our Values?

If politics cannot teach us values, where do we learn them? The answer must be: from ourselves, from our families, our teachers, our communities, and our own personal reflection. We must reclaim the responsibility of nurturing our own moral compass.

Movements like Rapera—which stand for nurturing thinking and compassionate citizens—recognise this need. They aim to raise a generation that transcends the limits of race and religion, that sees humanity first before ethnicity, and that values justice over blind loyalty. The future of our nation depends on such citizens—not on career politicians.

We must begin asking ourselves the right questions: Are our leaders making us better human beings? Are they encouraging unity, or division? Are they fostering strength of character, or fear and dependency? Do they want us to think—or merely to follow?

Conclusion

The time has come for us to stop expecting politicians to be our moral guides. They were never meant to be. They were meant to govern within frameworks created by a society with moral clarity—not to define those morals for us.

We must build a moral foundation that is citizen-led, not politician-driven. National unity, human dignity, and compassion must not be the slogans of political campaigns—they must be the lived values of our daily lives.

Politics should never be the source of our values. Our humanity should be.

END.

Politics and Business should not mix !

 The fusion of political power with business interests is a lived reality that poses serious risks to our democracy, economy, and social fabric. This isn’t about pointing fingers but about understanding the dangers and reminding ourselves why we need to keep these spheres distinct.

In a healthy democracy, the government should first serve the people, not corporations or elites. When business interests influence politics, democracy is compromised, and policies benefit a few well-connected individuals rather than the rakyat.

This is particularly risky for Malaysia, where democratic institutions are still maturing and vulnerable to such influence.

A democracy influenced by business interests is a democracy weakened, and preserving its integrity means keeping these lines clear.

Governments are meant to be facilitators, creating conditions to allow businesses to flourish. This means ensuring a fair and transparent regulatory framework, investing in infrastructure, and fostering innovation. However, when governments start working for specific business interests, they stray from their primary duty of serving the rakyat.

After 65 years of independence haven’t we heard all the stories. 

High-profile corruption cases that make headlines, for instance, revealing the ugly nexus between politics and business. It’s a pattern that repeats itself, and unless we remain vigilant, it will continue.

Corruption doesn’t just rob us of money – it robs us of trust in our leaders and institutions.

When public funds are siphoned off due to corrupt practices, who suffers? It’s the everyday Malaysian. Resources that should go to schools, hospitals, and infrastructure instead line the pockets of the powerful. This isn’t just a cautionary tale; it’s our reality, and we need to demand better.

The market is distorted. We must remind ourselves of the damage done to our economy when politics meddles in business. In a fair market, competition should drive innovation and growth. But when businesses secure government favouritism through political connections, it stifles competition. This is something we see far too often in Malaysia, with politically linked companies getting the lion’s share of contracts and benefits.

What happens then? Smaller businesses – especially the small and medium-sized enterprises that are the backbone of our economy – are left to struggle. Innovation stalls, prices rise, and ultimately, we, the consumers, bear the brunt. If we want a thriving economy, we need markets that are free from political interference.

Trust is the cornerstone of any functioning society. Yet, the mixing of politics and business erodes this trust. When Malaysians see leaders prioritising corporate interests over public welfare, it breeds cynicism and apathy.

We’ve all felt it – the frustration of seeing decisions being made that seem to be more about lining someone’s pockets than serving the people. This erosion of trust can lead to something even more dangerous: social unrest.

In Malaysia, where economic and social divides already exist, the perception of a corrupt elite can spark discontent. We’ve seen movements and protests arise from this very frustration. To avoid further disillusionment and unrest, we need transparency and accountability in both politics and business.

We also need to talk about the growing gap between the rich and the poor – a gap that’s often widened when politics and business get too cosy.

We can’t ignore the fact that political favouritism has contributed to this inequality. When policies favour a select few, the majority are left behind, struggling to make ends meet.

It is about real lives – about families who can’t afford proper education for their children or adequate healthcare. When business elites and politicians collaborate to serve their own interests, they perpetuate cycles of poverty and limit

opportunities for many Malaysians. We must remember that true progress is inclusive – it leaves no one behind.

So let’s talk about ethics. When politics and business mix, ethical standards often erode – politicians may seek personal gain, and businesses may ignore regulations for profit. This decline in ethics affects every-one.

In Malaysia, we’ve seen how environmental and labour rights can take a back seat when profits are on the line, which isn’t sustainable. Whether it’s in politics or business, our leaders must act with integrity and prioritise the rakyat’s best interests. The entrenched blend of politics and business makes it hard for new governments to implement reforms. Even with leadership changes, the old guard often holds sway through longstanding business networks, acting as a “shadow government” that resists economic, bureaucratic, and political reforms.

Efforts to dismantle monopolies, ensure transparent procurement, or reform public institutions often face pushback from these interests. True reform requires not only political will but also breaking down these deep-rooted power networks.

What can we do about this then?

It starts with us – the people. We need to stay informed, hold our leaders accountable, and demand transparency.

Campaign finance reform, stronger regulations, and independent oversight are all critical. But perhaps most importantly, we must keep reminding ourselves and others of the importance of separating politics from business.

Malaysia’s future depends on it. Let’s not wait for the next scandal or crisis to wake us up. Instead, let’s stay vigilant and proactive, ensuring that our democracy and economy serve the people, not the powerful few.

This is our country, our future, and it’s up to us to protect it.

Senior lawyer Datuk Seri Dr Jahaberdeen Mohamed Yunoos is the founder of Rapera, a movement which encourages thinking and compassion among Malaysians. The views expressed here are entirely his own.

The illusion of power: Why we must remain humane no matter our role

 IN life, many of us take on roles that carry influence and authority – whether as judges, lawyers, ministers, CEOs, police officers, or public servants.

These positions command respect, sometimes fear, and often come with perks that give the illusion of personal greatness. But therein lies the danger: it is easy to be carried away by the outward respect and forget that it is the position, not the person, that is being honoured.

Since my teenage years, I have had a keen interest in observing people and the unfolding of their lives. I noticed how some were gentle and humble in power, while others became arrogant, cruel, or dismissive of those beneath them.

Over time, I also began to see how life has a way of humbling even the most powerful – especially those who allowed the intoxication of authority to get the better of them.

I find it sad to have observed that many individuals fall into the trap of losing touch with who they really are. They become so usurped by their roles or positions that they mistake their titles for their identity.

It is a dangerous illusion. Because if they live a long life, they may eventually be subjected to the silent torture of being alone with someone they do not know – themselves.

The outer world fades, and what remains is the question: Who am I without the power? And for some, that question becomes unbearable.

History has shown us that not only have highly revered political leaders suffered unhappy and hollow final years, but many others with prestigious positions – senior judges, senior civil servants, corporate giants, popular leaders, celebrated academics – have met similar fates.

Their earlier years may have been filled with recognition, influence, and admiration. But when retirement comes and the applause fades, many are left restless, bitter, or even depressed – especially if they had never cultivated their inner lives or relationships beyond their titles.

Take, for example, the stories of once-feared leaders or senior government officials. Many of them, upon retirement, find themselves lonely or forgotten.

The late President Suharto of Indonesia, once one of the most powerful men in South-East Asia, spent his final years in near-isolation, facing public anger and legal scrutiny over corruption.

The reverence that once surrounded him turned into silent disapproval and, in many quarters, public disdain. It wasn’t just political backlash – it was the natural reaction to the way he exercised power.

In Malaysia, we too have seen powerful individuals – ministers, corporate figures, enforcement officers and so on – who once appeared untouchable, but ended up facing court charges, social rejection, or quiet retirement without the fanfare they once enjoyed.

The respect, the headlines, the invitations – all of it vanishes quickly once the position is gone. And for those who did not prepare inwardly – who mistook the prestige of the post for personal greatness – it becomes a very bitter realisation.

Compare this with individuals who remained grounded even at the peak of their careers. Former South African president Nelson Mandela, for instance, is remembered not just for his political role but for his humaneness, his humility, and his ability to forgive. Even after stepping down, he continued to be revered – not for his title, but for the character he embodied. Then there is Mahatma Gandhi. That is the kind of legacy worth leaving behind.

One can also think of those in simpler roles – teachers, nurses, smalltown mayors –who treat people with kindness, dignity, and fairness, despite not having national recognition or massive power.

Strangely enough, their legacy often lasts longer in the hearts of those they touched than the fame of those who climbed higher but treated others poorly.

Ultimately, it is not power that defines us, but how we behave when we have it. Life has a rhythm that cannot be avoided.

Old age comes. Retirement comes. Even memory fades. And the inner punishment for those who were cruel or self-absorbed in power often comes not in courts or newspapers, but in silence, regret, and the emptiness of a soul that spent too much time chasing applause and too little time nurturing humanity.

So let us remind ourselves: no matter our role in life – whether as a senior judge, minister or a street cleaner – treat others with basic human decency. Be kind even when you don’t have to. Be humble even when people praise you.

Use your influence to make others’ lives easier, not harder. Because when the world stops clapping, all that remains is the truth of who you are.

And that is what life eventually reveals.

Knowing this, for those who choose to take the seemingly difficult but righteous road, I say: continue. Walk it with quiet strength. You may not always be praised, and you may even be misunderstood. But at least you have avoided the delusion.

You are living in alignment with your conscience and with the laws of nature that favour balance, integrity, and inner peace.

That, in the end, is the real success.

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Senior lawyer Dato Sri Dr Jahaberdeen Mohamed Yunoos is the founder of Rapera, a movement which encourages thinking and compassion among Malaysians. The views expressed here are entirely the writer’s own.