Let's imagine a Malaysia without division, greed or hatred this National Day. — FAIHAN GHANI/The Star
“YOU may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one…”
John Lennon’s timeless peace anthem Imagine may have been written far from Malaysian shores, but its dream of a world without division, greed, or hatred resonates deeply with us, especially as the National Day arrives once again. For what is independence if not the promise of unity, of a people different in language, culture, and faith, yet bound together in one destiny?
In the years after 1957, unity was not a slogan but survival. Malays, Chinese, Indians and others learned together, prayed beside one another, and bore struggles shoulder to shoulder. Kedah’s villagers shared harvests, Penang’s families exchanged festive joy, and in Kuala Lumpur, classrooms echoed with names from every culture – imperfect bonds, yet lived with sincerity each day.
Still, unity in Malaysia feels more fragile than ever. Years of political manoeuvring, exploiting race and religion, have left cracks running deep through our social fabric. Where Merdeka once reminded us of common bonds, it is now too often overshadowed by lines of division. Education, economic policy, even language, instead of weaving us closer, are twisted into wedges that tear us apart. Social media magnifies outrage, while politicians feed on the profit of suspicion.
The real threat is not diversity itself, but its reckless manipulation. What should be our strength becomes a weapon when race is used to spark fear, religion to build walls, and politics to sow distrust. While economic inequality exists, irresponsible rhetoric turns it into a divisive “us versus them” struggle, fuelling suspicion and resentment instead of cooperation. Even history is bent to partisan agendas, stripping it of the pride that should unite us.
And yet, unity in Malaysia still breathes in ways no slogan could capture. Each Ramadan, Chinese and Indian neighbours jostle at bazaar stalls with Malay families, bound not by religion but by the scent of shared food.
At Thaipusam, Malaysians of every background climb Batu Caves together, while gurdwaras open their kitchens to feed anyone who hungers. In moments of crisis, the Kelantan floods, the pandemic, the Batang Kali landslide, we do not ask about race before we volunteer, donate, or comfort.
In our mamak stalls, pasar malam, and kopitiam, unity is served steaming, in laughter, in flavours we all claim as our own. Nasi lemak, roti canai, char kuey teow, thosai – these are not “theirs” or “ours,” but Malaysia’s. These everyday solidarities matter. They remind us that beneath the noise of division, there is a deeper current of togetherness that no politician can erase.
Reimagining unity through the spirit of Merdeka
Unity has always been at the heart of Merdeka. Our founding fathers knew that independence could not survive without cooperation, that the nation could only stand if every community committed to live together in respect and trust. The social contract was never about one race against another, but about building one Malaysia from many.
To decolonise our minds is to see unity not as fragile tolerance, but as strength born of difference. Unity is never uniformity; it does not silence culture, language, or faith. It is the realisation that beneath our diversity, we share the same longings: dignity, justice, security, and peace.
This vision already lives in the Rukun Negara – courtesy, morality, freedom, fairness – yet it must be lived, not chanted. Unity is not staged in slogans or parades; it grows in the choices we make each day: in honouring another’s tongue, in refusing to wound others with words, in embracing a neighbour’s joy as our own. These quiet acts are the threads of a living fabric, a Malaysia strong enough to move forward together.
Yet unity also depends on leadership, and here lies a dangerous truth. When governments doubt their own people and turn to outsiders for answers, they betray the very trust that holds a nation steady. And when religious-based institutions, born of the very community they serve, send a message that others are somehow “better,” they wound not just their flock but the harmony of the nation.
Such arrogance is not faith, and it is not Malaysia; it is the reckless ego of some leaders who forget that their mandate is service, not superiority. These failures breed resentment, harden walls, and turn neighbours into strangers. If Merdeka is to remain alive, we must demand that unity be grounded not in ego or empty words, but in honesty, equality, and trust – the true foundations of a nation that chooses to live as one.
The heartbeat of a nation
As Malaysia marks another National Day, we must ask: do we still believe in unity, or have we surrendered it to cynicism? The answer is not in grand speeches but in the lives of ordinary Malaysians – in mothers who teach their children to honour neighbours of every faith, in youth who link arms across races for justice, in hawkers who greet every customer as family.
Unity may seem fragile in the noise of politics, but it is alive in the laughter at mamak stalls, in neighbours sharing food during festivals, in the compassion shown during floods and hardships. These are not small gestures; they are the heartbeat of a nation. Our duty is to nurture this spirit, to defend it fiercely, and to let it grow. For Merdeka was never about one race standing above another, but about every race standing together as Malaysians.
If we have the strength to believe in it, and the will to live it, then unity need not remain an elusive dream. It can take root here, on this soil, in this generation. And from this land we call home, the world will see that true freedom is not just independence – it is the courage to live as one.
Prof Mohd Said Bani C.M. Din is president of PRCA Malaysia: Amplifying Voices of Unity. The views expressed here are solely the writer’s own.
