From deference to duty, let's reclaim our civic conscience

New Straits Times

5 days ago

After His Majesty Sultan Ibrahim, King of Malaysia took a quiet, breezy stroll through Bukit Tunku and made a simple public observation — that the place could be better kept — I received a text from a friend: "When is His Majesty coming to Brickfields?"
He wasn't joking. He wanted Kuala Lumpur City Hall to swing into action with the same urgency it showed in Bukit Tunku. The moment the king spoke, the city's machinery roared to life. Roads were swept, bushes trimmed, and the air itself seemed to freshen.
But here's the uncomfortable question: must we always wait for a royal walkabout or a ministerial convoy before the gears of local government start turning?
This isn't new. Since Merdeka, village elders and heads of residents' associations have learnt a peculiar trick: if you want a road resurfaced, engineer a visit from a VIP. Once the convoy is confirmed, the local authorities or the Public Works Department will spring into action.
By morning, the village or 'taman' proudly shows off its fresh coat of tar as if the asphalt itself was summoned by protocol. The message is painfully clear: without someone watching, little moves.
But must civic responsibility be an act of deference instead of a daily habit? Must we outsource our conscience to kings, prime ministers or politically connected local chiefs?
There's an old proverb worth remembering: "He who shirks his duty today will find it heavier tomorrow." And of course, Spiderman's Uncle Ben nailed it: "With great power comes great responsibility." Even Churchill knew the score: "The price of greatness is responsibility."
Dr Rahim Said, a self-described behaviourist and astute observer of our civic landscape, offers a deeper lens. He points to the Islamic concept of fardhu kifayah — the communal obligation that demands society collectively take responsibility for what must be done, lest the entire community be held accountable for neglect.
"It is a call to action," he says, "not just for public servants, but for ordinary citizens — to tend to their streets, their rivers, their neighbourhoods. Not in anticipation of a king's visit, but because it is only right."
In other words, we don't need another royal stroll to remind us of what we already know. We need a work ethic rooted in quality and a moral compass guided by a shared sense of duty.
The implications are profound. If we continue to outsource our conscience to rulers and politicians, we remain a nation of spectators — watching, waiting, hoping someone else will care enough to act.
And speaking of outsourcing, an accountant in his 80s who once ran several public-listed companies offered a sobering insight: the rot runs deeper. Many local councils have outsourced their basic responsibilities to external contractors. These recipients of government largesse have grown fat, while the actual work is handed over to cheap foreign labour whose worldview of cleanliness may differ vastly from ours.
It's a vicious cycle. Even if a well-meaning officer notices something amiss, they may stay silent. Why? Because their superior might be the "link" to the outsourcing company.
A former cabinet minister once lamented that it's nearly impossible to get some of his poorest-educated constituents hired for menial jobs in local councils. "They're earnest," he said. "They're willing to do the dirty work. But I'm always told — there are no vacancies."
So, many foreigners fly into KLIA, and the locals are left to hustle for something else, hopefully not crime.
Perhaps it's time for a deeper reckoning. We need to cultivate a culture where it's no longer necessary for a king or prime minister to see what we should never tolerate. The Madani government certainly has to start tweaking where it matters most and perhaps kill several birds with one stone.