Rich death, poor death

 

A very prominent Malaysian died at a ripe old age a few days ago. As in such cases, there were many expressions of condolences to the deceased’s family.

Here I too offer my condolences. But I qualify it slightly to say “my condolences to those who loved him and who miss him”. These, after all, are the people who truly deserve our condolences, regardless of whether they’re family or not.

I do get to say my condolences any way I see fit though. I’m not a Mr. Somebody from big business or politics. My actions are not governed by Malaysia’s powerful “Book of Protocols On How To Do Everything (And More)”. I’m just bound by common decency.

This particular death ended many chapters – glorious or ignominious, depending on where you stand. But it also opened up a postscript that looks set to be as riveting as the earlier chapters.

Many can’t wait to see what will unfold. But I can. I won’t be gawking as parties square up to fight over the man’s legacy and perhaps, if rumours are to be believed, over whatever wealth he left behind.

But it’ll be difficult to escape the din of these fights, the constant breaking news and pundits, commentators, assorted busybodies and connoisseurs of the macabre, chiming in with perspectives and colour and expose.

Perhaps if I remove myself to a foreign land? Alas, the battles will also be fought internationally, with a huge polyglot cast in multiple legal jurisdictions. Lawyers all over the world are already dreaming of the invoices they’ll write.

When this particular drama is over, there won’t be respite for the rest of us either. There are many other cases of old Malaysian men (and the odd – often very odd – women) waiting for their own moment in the court of public opinion and often the court of law, and likely both.

Malaysia may suck at many things – corruption, PISA scores, the ringgit against every global currency – but we do excel at a few, especially the number of rich and powerful old men (and the occasional odd women) in politics.

There’re good reasons for this. One is we’re actually a rich country. There’s much wealth to be made, or plundered, here. Our western colonisers knew this – that’s why they came – but our current colonisers – our own people – know this too.

And then there’s the structure of our politics – we have a slew of prime ministers and premiers, ministers big and small, MPs and ADUNs, agencies sacred and profane, GICs and GLICs, councils and NGOs, lifetime and hereditary VVIPs, advisors and influencers etc. These slobber up at the public trough, each bringing a coterie of enablers and leaches often coming from the same small fetid pool as themselves.

Yet another reason is how accepting and forgiving we are towards those who plunder their way to riches and power. We’ve perfected the art of closing one or both our eyes because occasionally they’d throw us a small morsel which makes us absolutely giddy with happiness at their generosity.

We’d get so happy with this we’d forget to question how much they had shared with us versus how much they kept for themselves and their kith and kin, cronies and foreign spouses, and bank accounts.

And even when how much they keep for themselves and their kith and kin, and cronies is divulged in court, whether religious or civil, it’ll change nothing for most of us.

It’s been wisely said it’s not so much that power corrupts, but that power is magnetic to the corruptible. Such people already have the motive – they just need the means and the opportunity, which come with power. And politics gives them this power.

I just feel thankful for having a pretty ordinary life. Much of my daily concerns are about hoping to have a bit (but not too much) more than whatever I deem enough, about hoping my kids have a good life, and about the legacy I’d be leaving behind.

Most people are at their happiest in their old age. The usual health downsides often don’t overcome the satisfaction of having led a decent life and fulfilled our obligations. Being able to say “enough” is one of the most powerful abilities a human could have.

I’ve always felt being richest on the day you die is the saddest thing that could ever happen to you. You’d have thought this concept is something easy to understand and accept, but apparently not to those who are pathologically attracted to power.

Back to my petty worries about money. I don’t have much, and I also know I can’t take it with me when I go. But at least, unlike some people we all know, I know I won’t be taking anybody else’s money when I go either! - FMT

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.