My two favourite sons of Malaysia

Man always fears death, but the sage welcomes it as a teacher.

On Monday, Dr Hasmah Ali passed away. I will not write about her life, for I hardly knew her beyond the fact that she was the wife of one of my two favourite sons of Malaysia, Dr Mahathir Mohamad.

The other is Anwar Ibrahim, our current prime minister.

On that solemn day, a photograph circulated of Anwar briefly speaking to Mahathir at the mosque before the funeral prayers for Hasmah. That single image brought back three decades of memories, both painful and miraculous.

Mahathir and Anwar are without doubt two men who have shaped a big part of my adult life. They have been the front-page narrators of our nation for more than 40 years, perhaps even 50. No one else comes close.

As a progressive Malay, I once looked to Mahathir for his radical views that defied tradition. He believed passionately in learning, reading and working hard with professionalism and ethics—values Umno today seems to have forgotten.

As an Islamic reformist, I looked to Anwar for the ideals of the Prophet Muhammad that I found in my readings of the hadiths. Between them, I absorbed much of the thought, character and action that has shaped me as a Malay, a Muslim, and a Malaysian.

When Mahathir first rose to power, he was not the favourite among Malays. His ideas were too radical, too disruptive of tradition. He wanted Malays to be as industrious as the Japanese, disciplined and forward-looking. I am similarly disliked by many Malays for calling a spade a spade, and insisting that they equip themselves with intellect and knowledge of our history, culture and religions.

Anwar, meanwhile, believed in an Islam that could move Malays away from race-based majoritarianism and place them on the global platform of progressive Islam. Many Malays dislike him for this, branding him a liberal. PAS went further, calling him a remnant of colonialist kafirs. I, too, have been similarly labelled.

The saddest day for me came when Anwar was imprisoned for sodomy. My hatred towards Mahathir ran deep then. But in 2018, a miracle unfolded. Mahathir walked calmly into the courthouse, shook Anwar’s hand, and said: “Let us work together to get rid of Najib.” Just like that.

I had prayed for Anwar’s protection through his imprisonments and God answered in a way I did not expect—by bringing the old man back to shake his hand. I saw that as divine intervention. I supported their reconciliation, though Mahathir never expressed remorse or apologised for what happened. I told myself time would change him but I was wrong.

But I learned a lesson about realpolitik. To win, you need friends and coalitions. After victory, you may even have to defeat your partners. Mahathir understood this well. Anwar, perhaps, has not, with Umno betraying him in last two state elections.

After 2020, the two were at war again. Mahathir no longer had the clout of a strong party, but his charisma remained. Even in a wheelchair, his words could rock the nation. He did not need to shout like Dr Akmal Saleh or bully like Jamal Yunos. He simply spoke, or wrote, and the nation listened.

In 2022, Mahathir saw his number one enemy—and perhaps his only true “friend”—become prime minister. Another miracle.

Over the four years since then, Anwar has tried to right Barisan Nasional’s wrong and help carry its baggage. Mahathir has also been in attendance, always trying to derail him. He suggestion of the “big tent” for Malays is one that brought Umno into its new marriage with PAS. The old man still had his sting.

And so the rivalry has continued. Until God decided to make one more play. At Hasmah’s funeral, these two great sons of Malaysia shook hands once more. I never thought I would see such an image after the recent Merdeka Day slight.

Yet I respect Mahathir for what he taught me: to be a Malay who loves knowledge, who thinks outside the boxes of religion, politics and work. In fact, Mahathir doesn’t see a box. I share that view.

The day Hasmah left us was solemn and sad, but also reminded us of mortality and purpose. It was a day of coming together after coming apart yet again.

Our lives are too short for hatred and division. Death is the greatest teacher of why we must always come back together.

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

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