AS a Malaysian student studying abroad, I’ve often contemplated what it means to carry a Malaysian identity.
An incident last year highlighted the complexity of the question for me. The Malaysian Society at a university here in the United Kingdom organised its annual Malaysian games, a sports event that gathers our students from across the country. For the first time, they introduced an afterparty following the event.
This afterparty was met with criticism, particularly in a viral TikTok video in which a student asserted that “clubbing and partying have never been a part of the Malaysian culture”.
This controversy, while not widely reported back home, sparked significant debate among the 10,000 or so Malaysian students in the UK. It was a stark reminder of the diverse and sometimes conflicting perspectives we Malaysians hold.
Studying overseas as a Malaysian student has made me very conscious of what it means to have a Malaysian identity. In a foreign land, one simply introduces one’s self as Malaysian without having to specify one’s ethnicity.
Moreover, there is the conscious effort to inject a line or two of Bahasa Malaysia during our student events, especially with the warming words of “Salam sejahtera” to kick things off. The Jalur Gemilang is also the default form of decoration, proudly displayed wherever possible.
Perhaps this act of asserting our Malaysian-ness abroad comes from homesickness or the need to find comfort in a community when feeling vulnerable in a new environment. This longing for connection, however, brings with it a subtle pressure to pursue careers outside of Malaysia. The prospect of returning home often raises questions about why we didn’t stay in the country where we studied.
The narrative around Malaysia’s flaws – lack of job opportunities, lower pay, and perceived institutional unfairness – adds to this pressure, but I know these issues should not weaken our sense of patriotism towards Malaysia.
Make no mistake, Malaysian students’ love for our home country is not diminished. During the last general election, a postal ballot collection drive led by students in the UK from representative organisations and Malaysian student societies successfully collected 6,932 ballots, equivalent to 14% of all postal ballots sent out, and had them safely taken to Malaysia to be counted.
Perhaps that is what the ideal Malaysian identity is: a collective identity that transcends ethnic and cultural differences, focusing on our shared values and a common vision for the nation’s future.
It is particularly poignant to reflect on all this during the Merdeka month. The Malaysian narrative we discuss today is heavily shaped by events that took place and policies that were shaped just before and after independence, and requires retrospective evaluation today.
There have been attempts to establish what a national identity is. Most notably, Tun Abdul Razak introduced the National Cultural Policy in 1971, which outlined three key principles: a predominant regional culture, the integration of diverse cultures into society, and Islam as a crucial influence on national culture.
This cultural policy was eventually revised and replaced in 2021 with Dasar Kebudayaan Negara 2021, which focuses on cultural preservation, education, economic empowerment through culture, inclusivity, international collaboration, and sustainability.
This shift demonstrates our country’s progress, a recognition of our past and present realities, while collectively exploring as a country what represents us best.
Our history as a significant maritime trade port, particularly Melaka, has always brought together diverse cultures. That is why I am immensely proud of the baba nyonya heritage of my maternal family, which is historical proof that the cultural aspect of Malaysia’s landscape comprises a concoction of various ethnicities that have existed for centuries on this land.
Ethnic divides were institutionalised when the British administration in Malaya implemented its well-known “divide and rule” policy, in which racial groups were strictly separated based on their economic activities, resulting in racial dynamics.
Despite representatives of different ethnic groups coming together to obtain independence later on, the division was still apparent through dominant race-based political organisations that still exist today.
The issue of defining Malaysian identity might appear rhetorical, but it demands a deep, inclusive national discussion to guide the country’s direction. A national identity cannot be reduced to a mere checklist of selected traits for a nation of 32 million people with diverse cultures, religions, and values.
The solution should therefore be overarching values that unify us through a uniquely Malaysian narrative, celebrating diversity without having to seek compromise. We must adopt an identity without abandoning our unique ancestry and social characteristics.
Here, there is an open challenge to the government to address this issue at an institutional level. Culture and identity may not seem as tangible as state security and economic growth, but they hold great value in defining generations of people who call themselves Malaysians.
My love for Malaysia isn’t diluted by my distance from it. Instead, it has strengthened my identity as an anak Malaysia. Despite its flaws, it is still a land with an intricately woven cultural tapestry filled with warm people and boundless opportunities.
It is also through recognising the imperfections of our nation that the younger generation may be more equipped to improve our home.
Happy 67th Merdeka!
