What The Jalur Gemilang Truly Means To Me

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 From childhood innocence to political awakening, the Malaysian flag has come to symbolise dignity, justice and the collective soul of its people.
When I was young and in St Mark’s Primary School in Butterworth, my teachers—many of whom were from the Indian and Chinese communities—asked us pupils to draw the Malaysian flag and colour our drawings.
I always gave it my best and usually scored a ‘B’ for my effort. I remember drawing the flag as often as I drew the map of Malaysia, until I could trace both from memory. Growing up, I never really held the actual flag—only its representation in drawings and photographs.
As a young man, I had no use for flags except to see them fluttering in the breeze during Merdeka Day celebrations. I saw many flags when watching the black-and-white TV we owned, but I never paid much attention.
The flag only held meaning for me during football matches against other countries which I watched from the comfort of my home. That was what the flag meant to me then—drawing it, and cheering for Mokhtar Dahari, Santokh Singh and Soh Chin Aun.
Fast forward to 1998, 20 years later, and I could no longer bear to look at the Malaysian flag. The memory of Anwar Ibrahim being beaten and jailed was seared into my mind. When Barisan Nasional supporters handed out free flags at toll booths, I held up my hand in defiant refusal. To me, the flag then symbolised a failed nation.
It wasn’t until 2018 that I finally bought a flag and displayed it outside my house in Kajang for the first time in my life.
Today, the flag represents the dignity of our communities, which have become like my family.
Violating the sanctity of our religions, cultures and heritage is akin to defiling the flag. Slapping someone simply for eating in public during Ramadan dishonours the flag. Accusing a fellow citizen of being related to a known communist stains the flag.
Labelling temples as “menceroboh” (trespassing) without understanding the history and sacrifices of my Hindu brethren is like tearing the flag to shreds. To me, the flag represents the dignity of my fellow citizens—my brethren in nationhood.
The flag also symbolises the people’s trust in civil servants—to care for the poor and the needy, and to ensure equal opportunities for all our children to learn, grow, and earn a decent living.
We shouldn’t see the elderly sleeping on the sidewalks or relying on the generosity of kind Malaysians for food. Failing our young, our poor, and our elderly is a grave insult to the Malaysian flag.
To me, the flag also represents the trust we place in our elected representatives and appointed officials to safeguard the country’s wealth from the grubby hands of the greedy.
Corruption at all levels of government and society is like defiling the flag with filth and waste that, if left uncleaned, will poison us all. Apathy and viewing corruption as a form of charity or donation is a travesty to the Malaysian flag.
The flag also promises that the lives of all citizens are sacred, and that everyone is subject to due process under the law. The flag assures us that no one simply disappears into the night or in broad daylight, leaving loved ones in agony for years.
What could defile the flag more than denying our own people justice and compassion?
At the age of 63, I have come to understand that the flag is more than just a drawing, more than a moving image on a TV screen, more than a piece of cloth fluttering in the breeze.
The flag represents us: the people, the rakyat. It stands for our dignity, our justice, and our mutual respect. To fail in upholding these three pillars of nationhood is to tear the flag to pieces. - FMT
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.

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