Where hate has no home

As an educator, I have taught hundreds of students from China, the US and from the rest of the world. Many of them are fun and hilarious and they appreciate the way I acknowledge their ideas and test my long-running patience with their communication skills.

Over three decades, students from China have learned the intricacies of English proficiency to philosophy, anthropology to political science, foreign policy to the United States and World History and Psychology, from yours truly. 

They are diligent, although many had to make cultural adjustments to adapt to the American classroom environment. 

Chinese students mostly come from essentially the drill-and-practice structured Chinese education system.

Just as Lao Tzu, Kung Fu Tze, and even Sun Tzu and Bruce Lee (photo), among other notable Chinese, the students eventually became my teachers. 

They taught me one thing: an educator does not see a learner in racial terms or discriminate in any form.

A teacher should always be a reservoir of cultural beingness so that we can learn from one another. 

This sums up a key ingredient of my passion for teaching and my commitment to impart knowledge to cultural awareness and human liberation. 

This is my continuing call for educators, to learn about appreciating others.

Have a Great Lunar New Year, my students, wherever you are. And let us, as Malaysians, dismantle all forms of discrimination in our education system. 

Growing up in Johor Baru in the 70s

Back in the day of the smooth-sailing seventies, people were happy with simple fashion and accessories. The kebaya, baju kurong (not a straitjacket mind you), baju Melayu Telok Blangah, terompah, selipar chapal, selipar Jepun, manik koran, and all kinds of Malay, Chinese, and Indian "bling bling" were available to adorn oneself with cultural niceties.

Growing up in the kampung, I was not attuned to hearing totally foreign words, imported from elsewhere to denote and connote the self, spirituality, and “saving one's soul and others”. Words such as solat, dakwah, ushrah, tarbiyyah jihad, muzakarah, jubah, serban, hijab, purdah, burqah, niqab, Arqam, tabligh, Ayatollah, muktamaar, buah tamar, or even Daulah Islamiyah, among others, were unheard of.

Only in the beginning of the 80s when these words, like Karl Marx would say, became technologies of the “body, mind, and spirit” that changed the social relations of production and the ideological landscape of the country and the consciousness of a segment of the Malay people.

And I never heard anyone wanting to burn the Bible nor shout “Allahu Akbar” (God is great) when scoring goals in a friendly kampung football match.

And the beauty of living back in the day was how the self was constructed out of the early introduction to pluralism/multiculturalism. For example, every time the Chinese spirit of Bruce Lee possesses me, I could just go out and beat up my best friend Fook Shiang. We could walk to town and overdose on Indian food, namely thosai and capati. Along the way, we would stop by breezy Lido beach to grab a bite of the Javanese soul food — tauhu (tofu) sumbat.

Next, we could stop by at our teacher’s house and listen to his stories of Malay spiritual powers and magic called "Ilmu Budi Suci" where the energy within —possibly the "chi" — can be harnessed so that one could kick like Bruce Lee without even touching the enemy!

Those were the days. The world outside of the classroom was my teacher. The town of Johor Baru was my classroom, of which I learned that there were other people with different languages, traditions and cultural celebrations other than the Malays. These people are not just living and breathing around me but was part of the excitement of living in my country.

These early memories of diversity made me study, among others, anthropology and later teach courses in cultural studies and cross-cultural perspectives. 

And today?

What a mess we are in. All I read in the news are endless manufacturing of crisis — racial and religious — so that the politicians in power may continue to get the rakyat to fight amongst themselves. Why? So that they may continue to be in power for as long as they can Machiavellingly last. So that they may escape being investigated for past wrongdoings and so that they may engage in political vendetta.

There is no more moral conscience in our body politics. Our Education Ministry seems uninterested to correct racial imbalances socio-emotionally nor any plan is made to address the rise of Salafi-ism or Wahabi-ism, like a spectre haunting our schools and universities.

I have written in my previous column of the danger of Islamic radicalism, such as Salafi-ism, that is beginning to replace the degenerating ideology of “ketuanan Melayu”.

There is no evidence, at least one that is reported, of training our teachers in cross-cultural appreciation and diversity training for teachers so that we may produce citizens who are respectful and appreciative of each other’s culture.

Well, we are where we are now, and it is what it is.

Nonetheless, have a Great Lunar New Year, my friends, students, and teachers. I am here doing what I'm doing because of you. 

Hate has no home in a teacher.

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AZLY RAHMAN is an academician, international columnist and author of seven books available here. He holds a doctorate in international education development and Master’s degrees in six areas: education, international affairs, peace studies, communication, fiction and non-fiction writing. He is a member of the Kappa Delta Pi International Honor Society in Education. Twitter @azlyrahman. More writings here. - Mkini