MY computer wouldn’t turn on a few weeks ago, and I got a little concerned. As somewhat of a computer geek in my youth, I knew it was not good news when nothing appeared on the screen, no beeps emanated from the casing and not even the ‘Num Lock’ indicator would function on the keyboard. Turned out that the motherboard had fizzled and, if caused by serious voltage spikes, the hard drives could have been damaged as well. Anxious to know if my data was safe, I rushed to the infamous Digital Mall in the labyrinthine, unsigned and potholed Section 14 of Petaling Jaya to get new kit. Actually, I splurged, being reminded that the last time I bought a computer was five years ago, which is an eternity in the timeline of chip development.
Relieved that the data on the now-enslaved hard drives was in fact safe, my friend insisted on installing games. I was never a fan of first-person shooters but I consented to Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, whose violence shocked me: in the old days a fictional death would be represented by a few pixels blinking or going red, but my new graphics card depicted not only the blood-splattering gore in cellular detail, but also the terror-stricken expressions of the victims prior to their execution, particularly in the Russian airport massacre scene. To be fair, the game does contextualise this as an evil act, but still, not for the faint-hearted.
Much more to my liking is Civilisation V, which has already led me to cancel meetings and feign illness in order to play this latest instalment of a series that I have been playing since the early 1990s. Indeed, these did much to encourage my interest in the political sciences, and I defy any parent who says that all computer games are a bad influence on children. The idea is that you begin by controlling a tribe with a settler and a warrior, and over time you allocate resources into production, expansion, scientific research and military forces in order to grow into a mighty and advanced civilisation. You can call yourself Gaddafi and rule for millennia, especially since it is straightforward to placate your people. You can change your policies whenever you like, and there are no political parties in the game, let alone 33.
It was weird for the Registrar of Societies to recommend the number of political parties be capped at this mysterious quantity. If last week I praised the EC for exhibiting pro-democratic credentials, albeit slowly, this gibberish from the Registrar of Societies shows disdain for the Malaysian electorate. “Shouldn’t the people be allowed to decide on this?”, asked theSun on Tuesday. Absolutely. I would go further and argue that the need for a political party to apply for registration is too draconian: why not abolish this function of the Registrar of Societies altogether? If any group of individuals wants to form a political party, just let them inform the EC directly. Of course we will see fringe parties that are extreme or loony (in the UK there actually is an Official Monster Raving Loony Party), but it will be up to voters to determine whether they are extreme or loony.
Such statements also contribute to the cynicism that the institutions of state are working in cahoots for political ends. Contradicting statements by different politicians or officials can be seen as a part of a ‘good cop, bad cop’ strategy designed to attract support from different target audiences.
To an extent we can see this cynicism surface in political appointments apparently designed to win over support from nontraditional bases, too. I am referring here to Penang Chief Minister Lim Guan Eng’s appointment of Zairil Khir Johari as his political secretary. In interviews it was claimed: “We appointed him not because of his race, but because of his attributes and qualifications… he just happens to be a Malay.” Many people just won’t believe that. At the same time, much has been made of the fact that the 28-year-old is son of Tan Sri Mohd Khir Johari, the UMNO stalwart and former Education Minister who served under Tunku Abdul Rahman.
Unlike an imaginary leader’s reputation in Civ, Malaysian politics does sometimes does dig up one’s family legacy. A few weeks ago at a wedding reception I sat next to a Cabinet minister, the fourth generation in his family to be in politics, and he told me he deliberately did not enter politics until his father had left the scene, to avoid comparisons. I cannot imagine what family reunions are like for Shahrir and Khalid Samad or Joseph and Jeffrey Kitingan!