Many pathways to service

The scope of our responsibilities may change throughout life, but it is important to carry them out with confidence so the rest of society benefits.

RESPONSIBILITY arrives in many different ways.

Children quickly become accustomed to expectations: study hard, tidy your room, practise piano and don’t forget to pray. The list varies across families and reflects parents’ beliefs of what makes a good human being.

As you grow up, you experiment with other ways of doing things, but such discoveries can be fleeting when you learn the difference between short-term gratification and long-term success.

Eventually, you encounter the moral dimension. Things which are good for you might not be good for other people. When you don’t act fairly, or according to what others expect (logically or not), animosities can occur and self-doubt can set in. Through this process, you learn about justice and the prejudices of society.

As a young adult, the acquisition of responsibility becomes more elective: choices about what to study and what profession to pursue, and where to do both, are huge decisions made early in life that affect the long remainder of it.

I was fortunate to savour the expansion of my own freedom, and with my peers discover what it was like to rent my first apartment, pay bills from my own income and negotiate my own job contracts.

Being able to find fulfilment through the things I enjoy – and what the academic system told me I was good at – led me down the route of a career in public policy (with always an eye on diplomacy) while maintaining a competency in squash and piano (albeit both now diminished).

In that process I’ve made some terrible decisions, and there are people and organisations who are glad to see the back of me or desire me misfortune. But this has made the pursuit of peaceful coexistence even more urgent, both on a personal and broader societal level.

Two aspects modified the idea of responsibility as compared to most of my friends, though.

The first was having my younger brother Tunku Alif suffer from a severe form of cerebral palsy. It taught me and my older brother that sometimes responsibility can be foisted unexpectedly and in a manner that outsiders do not easily understand. Adjustments must be made to provide the care that unconditional love demands.

In this regard, from the moment that I could retain memories, the patience, fortitude and sacrifice of my parents has been inspirational.

The other aspect that I contemplated might shape the arena of responsibilities was the royal element. Growing up, visiting my grandmothers provided glimpses of thrones, ceremonies and myths of protective weretigers, and the notion that if my father should be elected to the throne of Negri Sembilan, scrutiny and responsibility would follow regardless.

And so the first few years after the demise of the hugely respected Tuanku Ja’afar were a dizzying crash course on protocol, intrastate diplomacy and getting accustomed to the fact that while some people are deferential, others are more critical because of the title you hold (and both sentiments are often in the same room).

So you just have to be confident in the responsibilities you have and carry them out as best as possible. Naturally there are successes and failures along the way, but the best motivator is in seeing people who benefit, who strive higher, who feel happier, who themselves contribute more because of something you said, a programme you initiated, or a trail you blazed.

I still find it mysterious how through an ancient institution given legitimacy by tradition and the constitution, people do find common cause and express affection that in turn inspires unity, excellence and dignity.

In receiving the title of Tunku Panglima Besar from the Yang di-Pertuan Besar of Negri Sembilan (as is entirely his prerogative) my spread of responsibilities will not change.

I hope that the fields of education and public policy, the courts of racquet sports and the rule of law, and the stages of musical development and corporate diligence will continue to be where I can participate with the blessing of students, practitioners, custodians and regulators.

The title used to be held by an honourable man – Tunku Abdullah ibni Almarhum Tuanku Abdul Rahman – whose life has been entertainingly chronicled by my uncle, the author Tunku Halim. He was a prince who proved that it is okay to be enthusiastic about many different parts of life.

One of his most enduring achievements – the rehabilitation of KL’s Central Market – was next to the Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs (Ideas), and walking through there I was reminded how his business acumen and zest for life benefitted the community around him. Oh! He even dabbled in politics, becoming MP for Rawang from 1964 to 1974.

Thank you papa, Daulat Tuanku, akan berkati sekalian yang setia...

Tunku Zain Al-‘Abidin is the Tunku Panglima Besar of Negri Sembilan. The views expressed here are the writer’s own.