By Dr Jahaberdeen Mohamed Yunoos
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.
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