Ranting kills, dialogue builds

The words we choose in a case like Loh’s determine whether we make a problem better or worse.

Have you ever had a series of fights and started to ask yourself: is this all actually the same fight?

I find myself asking this question most often a) when it comes to relationships and b) when it comes to nation building.

In most conflicts and controversies which polarises Muslims and non-Muslims, or Malays and non-Malays, I feel like we are always essentially fighting the same fight.

This article is sparked by the case of Loh Siew Hong and her three children, but it is not about that case. It is about how Malaysians talk about cases like this, and how it affects Malaysia on a deeper,

long-term level.

For the oversimplified purposes of this article, we can roughly divide Malaysians into the left, the right, and the middle (the terms “left” and “right’ are definitely imperfect and a little archaic, but I currently find it a better shorthand than the alternatives).

The left feel like this is yet another cruel, vicious attack on the religious freedoms of non-Muslims, and that they must rise up to defend their rights. The emotional backdrop and context is feeling like their sense of identity is being attacked.

The right feel like these arrogant non-Muslims are once again attacking Islam, rudely questioning the status of Islamic institutions, and that they must rise up to defend their nation from being secularised.

The emotional backdrop and context is feeling like their sense of identity is being attacked (That is not a copy/paste error).

The middle (by far the smallest group) just wishes everyone would stop yelling at each other and instead think a little bit more about how we can have conversations that are more productive than they are self-indulgent.

The emotional backdrop is feeling sad that absolutely no one gives a rat’s behind what the middle has to say, because they’re drowned out by the people who are yelling.

In these controversies, the first kneejerk question we tend to ask is: who is right?

It is the simplest question, but also perhaps (in this context at least) the least productive question.

People who have been married may relate to how being right (or more accurately, being convinced that you’re right) isn’t worth s#!t.

You feel you’re right, your partner feels they’re right, and the Indonesians have a phrase that sums up the result perfectly: So what gitu lho? (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Gz7FZdQYFo)

Our natural tendency is always to debate what is “right”. But simply put, this is not mathematics.

Every side will think their logic unassailable, and having watched these arguments very closely for decades almost, I can bet my bottom dollar that the left will never “convince” the right, and the right will never “convince” the left. Frankly, it perplexes me that people still try.

One of my most core principles in writing and dialogue is: I’m never so delusional as to think I can convince either the hard left or the hard right. To me, attempting to do so in my line of work represents a lack of wisdom that borders on stupidity.

Maybe for some, the decision making process to even read an article like this is: Does the writer agree with my position on this issue? If yes, then read. If no, then don’t read. I’ll bet either extreme will fall into the “don’t read” category’, and that’s fine. They’re really not my audience.

I always write for Malaysians who I know to have sincere, genuine intentions and motivations - Malaysians who are capable of some self-awareness and reason. I try to provide some small alternative to the copious amount of angry extremes on both sides.

If I invite either extreme to self-reflect, they would ignore the invitation without a second thought. That is probably a defining feature of being extreme.

To those capable and willing to consider taking a step back to reflect however, the question I feel is important to ask is: what are we really trying to achieve here?

I understand you’re angry - in this case say, “on behalf of” Loh. You’re angry at the story of a mother being kept away from her kids; maybe you’re angry at what you feel is an encroachment of “extreme Islamism”. I get that. I’m a little angry at myself. To say there’s absolutely no reason to feel some anger would probably be wrong.

So, our first instinct is to express our anger, and direct it towards “the other side”.

The slightly odd thing I notice is: we mostly direct it to the other side, while only in conversation with people on our side. We rant on and on in WhatsApp groups filled with people who mostly agree with us, and publish on social media. Our friends cheer us on like heroes, and we feel smug about it.

(I regret to say that in my years as a writer, I’ve done some of this anger-mongering as well, and enjoyed the pats on the back I got for it).

The other side meanwhile sees what these people are publishing, and it fits the narrative that they sell to their own side perfectly - “See? The other side is increasingly arrogant, and they are attacking us again!”

People often immediately interpret headlines and react based on already held triablist affiliations, without giving each issue the case by case care and attention it deserves.

Instead of carefully going through every aspect and hearing everyone out, pre-programming kicks in at the speed of light, and we all start shooting from the hip. (https://youtu.be/4e6IKG2Xxzw?t=9)

On and on it goes - Jawi, Timah, conversion - it’s all the same fight. To me, most of the issues are barely even real anymore, compared to “the fight”. The fight is real. It is perhaps currently the most real thing in Malaysian society.

So, how do we fix this?

How do we unite with other reasonable Malaysians who feel the same way, and make some real progress? In the case of Loh, how do we do what is best for the children? (not necessarily what we think should be best for the children, but what is actually best for them.)

The first thing we need to be mature enough to realise is: progress does not mean getting everything you want. If you’re in a relationship with someone where you get everything you want all the time, that is not a relationship, that is slavery.

There’s a funny clip from Star Trek: Lower Decks that perfectly encapsulates the very, very boring truth of what genuine negotiation and compromise probably looks like (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSlHXbHKp-0). It’s nowhere near as exciting, entertaining, and invigorating as the speeches and rants of people on either extreme; but there it is.

If we truly, truly want to break out of this toxic cycle and release Malaysia from the chains that have prevented Malaysia from truly growing for decades, the very first thing we need to internalise is: we won’t get everything we want.

I think each side can get a lot, actually. A lot more than pessimists think. But it is insanity to think any side will get everything.

My bet is Malaysia will never, ever be as secular as the secularists want; and it will never, ever be as Islamic as the Islamists want. I reckon the sooner we can truly accept this, the sooner we can truly start building a Malaysia that both secularists and Islamists can be proud of.

So how do we start?

I think one of the first things we can do is to stop expecting centrists to act like us.

One example can be illustrative. ABIM put out a statement concerning Loh’s case. As is typical, it was moderate, measured, and centrist.

As is typical, this seems to have pissed off both sides. The left thought it was too right, the right thought it was too left.

In most of the WhatsApp groups I’m in, I only saw people criticising the statement.

So what we’re doing here is setting up a negative feedback loop. Many of us say we want a moderate Malaysia, but when moderate Malaysians say something moderate, they are attacked all around.

By constantly attacking the centrists, we de-incentivise them from being in the centre, and push them to an extreme, where there are always more people who will cheer them on.

People think of me as some crazy ABIM fanboy (fair enough), and I notice that every time one of these issues comes up, people (usually from the left) like to ask me: Why isn’t ABIM saying XYZ?

To them, XYZ here generally means: “What I believe ABIM should say” or “What I believe is right”.

I find answering individual queries like this too time consuming, so it is with great relief that I finally tender my humble answer to all those who have asked me these questions: Because they are ABIM, and not you.

If they were you, they would not be ABIM. And if they are not ABIM, then they cannot play the role that made them valuable in the first place.

More generally speaking, there are a few big moderate Islamist groups in Malaysia (IKRAM is the other obvious one that is generally similar).

The “value” of these groups is that they function as a bridge between the left and the right. They have open channels of communication and established relationships with both the left and the right.

I can’t overemphasise how rare and important this quality is. It’s quite frankly why I started engaging with them in the first place. Not because they’re perfect (no one is), or because they agree with me about everything (no one does), but because they occupy a unique niche - a niche which is, for my money, perhaps the most valuable one in Malaysia today.

If I wanted to just stay with people who grew up like me, think like me, and talk like me, then I would never need to venture out beyond the community of NGO people I came up with who all speak English, and usually all have similar opinions on Jawi, Timah, and so on.

But if you expect these moderate Muslim groups to take the exact same position as these English-speaking NGOs all the time, then they would become another English-speaking NGO, and then there is no more bridge to the other side.

The other important thing I think people with my background fail to understand is just how ‘big’ the other side is.

I’m not saying this to make you fear them (as some others do) - only in the hopes that we realise this: just as we have a desire to have our identity recognised, they have a desire to have their identity recognised.

We tend to only interact with people like ourselves (eg, in our like minded WhatsApp groups), and we tend to only react to extremists from the other side.

Only ever interacting meaningfully with the left limits our ability to understand this group on the centre right - people who are passionate about their faith and religion, and believe that Islam should play a big role in their lives, but (contrary to what some would have you believe) are also decent people with genuinely no intention to stomp on other people’s freedoms.

In the long run, I have a feeling that the best way to move forward can be summarised in two words: Yell less.

We all get angry. We all need to yell sometimes. I get it.

But we don’t need to yell all the time. We don’t need to try and persuade everyone we’re right all the time. Any wise person should recognise by now that that’s a fool’s quest.

In other words: we need to recognise the difference between unproductive self-righteousness venting; and productive, genuine, respectful, strategic dialogue which enables us to move forwards instead of backwards.

In the case of Loh, I imagine this would take the shape of key moderate religious leaders having a conversation about what policies and guidelines might be reasonable when it comes to conversion and religious upbringing of children.

If we come motivated by sincerity and openness, and leave our anger and biases by the door, I can nearly guarantee that we can come up with something genuinely valuable.

And if we keep doing this bit by bit, I can guarantee we will transform the nation into one where everyone feels like they have a place under the Malaysian sun.

NATHANIEL TAN works with Projek #BangsaMalaysia. Twitter: @NatAsasi, Email: [e-mail]. #BangsaMalaysia #NextGenDemocracy.