Losing Nurul Izzah to principles

Three months ago, Nurul Izzah (above) resigned as PKR vice-president and relinquished her posts as PKR Penang chief and other government appointments. Yesterday, she quit the Parliamentary Public Accounts Committee. And a few years from now, she will end her final term as Member of Parliament.

She did all of this for principles.

This is unusual for Malaysian politics. Most of the time, when the government or party makes a decision that is not agreeable, most politicians would choose to compromise their own principle instead of compromising their positions. 

Their calculations are that their positions have substantial power and influence, besides a huge salary. So, by keeping their heads low and wavering on certain principles, they’d be able to maintain status quo unnoticed.

Worse, when our politicians are ridden with an embarrassing scandal, they would still adopt the same strategy of keeping silent and keeping positions.

For example, the fake degree scandal only stayed in the public’s eye for a week, and all the ministers, deputy ministers, menteri besar, and state executive councillors involved have continued holding their positions unscathed.

If even a scandal you are personally involved in is not enough to hurt your pride, then nothing really will.

The kids are watching

The implicit message in all of this is that there is no baseline integrity in the people who hold power - and everything can be compromised.

Some people may think that “principle” is an oversold commodity that is unrealistic and undependable. Smartness in the modern world means evaluating what is beneficial and what is costly, and the consideration of principle seems burdensome and unnecessary.

Therefore, some may feel that the unprincipled decisions and compromises the government made is no big deal. I am more inclined to believe these decisions will affect how our future generation sees government and society.

Because the kids are always watching.

All it takes is for a parent to say at the dinner table that “Wow, you can fake a degree and still be a minister” for this to register in the children’s DNA. Although that will not compel the children to fake a degree, it will create a generation that is comfortable with shortcuts, lies and deceptions.

Nurul Izzah's path less travelled

That is why I hope the story of Nurul Izzah would help us a little. We can now tell our children there is someone who has a glaringly hopeful political and administrative career, a household name, and a rich history that gives her a sense – but who still chooses the path less travelled.

Nurul Izzah could have just waited her turn by keeping silent about all the ills that she saw, or she could have just cosied up to the government and be offered something compatible with her standing.

But she has chosen to forgo all of that in return for the stability of conscience. In that is a belief that there is right and wrong in this world, and the guiding force is the stubborn feeling that will not just simply accept everything that comes our way without putting up a fight.

When there is a mass defection from Umno to Bersatu, you have a choice to adopt double standards or you could choose to call it out before the ills of the past become the ills of today.

When there is slowness in reforms to alleviate the economic lives of the masses, you have a choice to adopt a wait-and-see position, or you could sound an alarm for the government to treat the matter with urgency.

When the PAC chief has defected and is now no longer an opposition member, you have a choice to say that this is not an election promise or you could say enough is enough.

You could treat these events as separate and criticise them individually and quietly, but the cumulative nature of these events would also weigh heavily on you, make you question the strength and importance of your principles.

The story to tell

What Nurul Izzah has done may be pedestrian in countries where there is a high premium attached to political integrity and public shame. But it is precisely because the environment here is antithetical that makes Nurul Izzah’s decision all the more impressive.

Around Chinese New Year, my 15-year-old cousin pointed to the news and told me all the ministers were dumb because they had no degrees. He told me his father said, to be a minister, you just have to kiss enough hands to rise to the top.

Of course, my cousin was wrong and his father had over-generalised. But such claims are not too far from reality, and the highest office violating principles would have a toxic element that influences our next generation.

We have the story of Nurul Izzah to tell, so that when we tell our kids that public office must be pursued with principles of honesty and integrity, they could believe us.

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JAMES CHAI works at a law firm. E-mail him at jameschai.mpuk@gmail.com. - Mkini