Musing on what he writes about as the year draws to a close, our columnist hopes that he piques the curiosity of at least one reader out there every fortnight. — Pixabay
“What do you write about?” is a question I’m often asked. It’s a difficult one to answer because I’ve been lucky enough to cover a wide range of topics in this column. The downside of that, of course, is that it can sometimes feel like I don’t really write about anything in particular.
If that sounds like your typical loyar burok sitting at the edge of a mamak shop long after most places have closed ... you’ve pretty much got it right. I’m the guy who sounds like he has something to complain about regardless of the topic, and often without any deep claim to expert knowledge.
Yet the things I know best are the ones closest to me. So I write about family, Kuala Lumpur, and technology. I complain about both their irritations and their inspirations, usually with a degree of fondness.
Attention, after all, is a form of affection.
So when I complain about corruption, or how embarrassing Malaysian football can be, I am genuinely annoyed about the issues at hand. But more often than not, that annoyance comes from a belief that we really can do better.
And by “better”, I don’t mean leaders giving smoother excuses at press conferences (or not bothering to turn up at all) while distracting us with some shiny new initiative or a conveniently outrageous controversy. I mean better as human beings.
Perhaps the most worrying aspect is how often Malaysians try to get away with something simply because they can. Don’t get me wrong: This doesn’t mean we’re a lawless society rampaging towards anarchy at every opportunity. On the contrary, I believe our base instinct is to do good and to help.
From the feel-good spirit of Hari Raya advertisements and the introduction of women-only coaches on the MRT to initiatives like Kuala Lumpur Reads, these are all examples of our better side shining through.
The problem is that sometimes the excitement and convenience of doing what’s easy wins out over the admittedly mundane business of doing what’s right. Much of what I’ve written highlighted misaligned incentives, like how parking shouldn’t be about maximising revenue, and learning shouldn’t be reduced to A grades and Ivy League degrees.
As a technophile, I would love for technology to be the silver bullet that helps people distinguish between what sounds good and what actually works. Ideally, technology would make it easier to separate truth from noise.
Indeed, the world is now beginning to see Malaysia as high-tech and futuristic, bathed in a cool blue glow rather than a Third-World orange glare. Yet in real terms, we often embrace the aesthetic while neglecting fundamentals such as data privacy, or the need to think and collaborate with tech instead of just pushing a button to get a result.
While technology undeniably helps us do things easier and faster, it’s still up to us to make sure that it’s heading in the right direction. The fact is, we are letting the Internet slowly die by nurturing AI-supported bots that churn out clickbait headlines with little regard for the underlying truth. We need to stand up and really make sure what matters doesn’t get drowned out.
That said, I’m also aware that some topics are simply hard to tackle well. I’ve wanted to write about issues like the Israel-Palestine conflict, the Malaysia Agreement and the roles of Sabah and Sarawak, or why elections can never be truly free and fair. But I worry that I can only skim the surface, and that doing so may not do justice to their complexity.
Then there are even more controversial questions: How those in power sometimes get away with breaking the law; the complications of hereditary power; or what religion should look like in the modern world. These are topics that might get shot down before I can even type a single character. Free speech may be free, but fines and prosecutions are costly.
Still, one thing remains constant. Writing about new and complex topics forces me to learn. Research sends me down all sorts of alleyways, which I believe is the best kind of Internet browsing there is. It just takes a long time to understand complicated things properly.
Writing about what you love can be complex and frustrating, but things worth doing rarely come easy. I’m keenly aware of how fortunate I am to be able to write about almost anything that interests me, including topics as far-flung as quantum computing, the Aston Villa football club, and some fairly esoteric mathematical ideas.
I try, however, to make sure each piece matters to someone out there. And if it’s about something you don’t know much about, I hope that by the end of it, your curiosity has piqued.
If I’ve done that, perhaps you’ll dig a little deeper yourself. And maybe you’ll dig so deep that you end up knowing far more about it than I ever will.
Enough, perhaps, that if you hear me griping about something at a mamak shop past midnight, you’ll sit down in front of me and you will agree with me, or you will argue with me, or maybe you’ll teach me something new.
Whichever way it goes, that conversation will hopefully make both of us better.
Logic is the antithesis of emotion but mathematician-turned-scriptwriter Dzof Azmi’s theory is that people need both to make sense of life’s vagaries and contradictions. Write to Dzof at lifestyle@thestar.com.my. The views expressed here are entirely the writer’s own.
