Perhaps Malaysians are a lot kinder than we think

A middle-aged Chinese woman from an NGO walked into the newsroom, seeking help.

A journalist of Indian descent was assigned to write the story — that of a young Malay girl who urgently needed medical attention.

This story, recounted by FMT executive chairman Nelson Fernandez at a forum recently, would have just been another account of how Malaysians help each other.

But this was different. People of all races came together to answer a call for help by a Chinese, disseminated by an Indian to help a Malay.

Within hours of FMT publishing the story, up to RM150,000 had been pledged, taking little Diya Amanda on her first step towards a normal childhood.

But for Fernandez, it was just another day at the office.

The Malaysia we keep saying we want is already here.

Nobody ever needed a campaign or matching T-shirts to foster unity. Nobody asked who prayed where or what box they ticked on a form.

This was simply a child who needed help.

And people came forward.

Back in 1982, Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder sang a lovely song about “Ebony and Ivory” living together in perfect harmony. If black and white piano keys could exist in harmony, surely human beings could figure it out too.

More than forty years later, humanity is still working on it.

We, Malaysians, have spent decades talking about unity. We have slogans, campaigns and speeches about it. We have probably printed enough banners about togetherness to wrap around the country several times over.

Yet one of the best demonstrations of Malaysian unity happened without anybody needing to announce it.

Just like the song, maybe harmony doesn’t require every key to sound the same.

I don’t think Malaysia suffers from an absence of harmony. Perhaps we suffer from not seeing enough of it.

That matters because the stories we repeatedly hear about one another influence the nation we are a part of.

If Malaysians constantly encounter one another through anger, suspicion and confrontation, eventually it becomes easy to believe we are fundamentally divided.

This is why Fernandez’s argument about journalism matters beyond journalism.

He wasn’t suggesting difficult stories shouldn’t be told. Nor should they be.

He was asking for something harder: that conflict does not become the only lens through which Malaysians see one another.

We should be able to disagree fiercely without dehumanising others. We should be able to defend what we believe without humiliating someone who believes differently.

And when we report what divides Malaysia, we should not forget the stories that reveal what still holds us together.

That responsibility isn’t just journalists’ anymore.

Every one of us carries a tiny newsroom in our pockets. We decide what gets shared, forwarded and viral-ed.

Fernandez said something else at the New Muslim Community Conference in Kuala Lumpur, that stayed with me:

“Everyone talks about religion, but no one talks about love, compassion and kindness.”

Love. Compassion. Kindness.

Three words that might seem soft beside politics, race, religion and power.

But as I wrote in my previous article, we have grossly misunderstood softness and strength.

It is easy to be kind to people who agree with us and who are similar and familiar. It takes something stronger to extend that kindness to someone who isn’t.

Perhaps Malaysians do not need to agree on everything and maybe agreement was never the point.

Harmony isn’t everyone singing the same note. That’s unison.

Harmony requires difference.

Ebony and ivory don’t create music because they overcame their differences. Their differences are the point.

Malaysia isn’t so different. A unique colourful country like ours was never going to be one note.

I believe we should stop trying to make everyone sound the same and become better at hearing one another instead.

That’s where harmony begins.

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