Harm Reduction Versus Doing Good

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpted from my Qur’an, Hadith, And Hikayat: Exercises In Critical Thinking (2021)

October 4, 2026

Consider a traffic policeman who abandons his duty at an intersection in order to attend Friday prayers. In his absence the traffic snarls into gridlock, precipitating a series of fatal crashes and delaying an ambulance carrying a critically ill patient.

 

Then consider this. While practicing surgery in Malaysia during the 1970s, I reprimanded a junior doctor for doing precisely that: abandoning a fragile patient in the Casualty Ward to rush off to the mosque for his Friday prayers. In his mind, his personal salvation superseded the survival of his patient. It never occurred to him that saving a human life might be the very path to his own salvation. Worse, he was genuinely bewildered as to why I—a fellow Muslim—would dare discipline him for fulfilling his religious obligation.

 

Distinguishing the Universal from the Particular

Taking a more broad view, failing to observe the Saturday Sabbath is a transgression only within Judaism; likewise, skipping Friday prayers carries gravity only for Muslims. Drunk driving, however, is a potential harm that transcends creed. It poses an immediate threat to everyone on the road—Muslim and non-Muslim, driver and innocent bystander alike. Society thus has a clear duty to act against that.

Yet drinking itself is not synonymous with being drunk or belligerent. While consuming alcohol is sinful for Muslims, it is not so for others. Across many cultures it is an integral part of life, woven into weddings, religious sacraments, and civic celebrations.

A government may choose to restrict public drinking, or it may go further and impose total prohibition. America’s grand experiment with prohibition did curb public drinking, but it produced vastly worse outcomes: lethal poisonings from bootlegged moonshine, rampant property destruction, and the rise of organized crime. Modern arguments for legalizing and regulating cannabis and other illicit substances draw directly from those lessons of prohibition.

Could evil operate like a biological pathogen? In trace amounts, a weakened strain of virus acts as an inoculant, building immunity against a far greater catastrophe. In excess, it destroys a civilization—much as opium gutted China during the Qing Dynasty.

There is little wisdom in suppressing a minor vice if the enforcement yields a far greater societal tragedy. This insight underpins modern public health strategies of harm reduction. You cannot instantly eliminate the self-destructive compulsions of drug addiction, but you can reduce the secondary mortality and disease transmission by providing sterile needles and safe disposal infrastructures.

 

The Moral Failure of Institutional Cruelty

Consider human sexuality. Illicit sexual encounters carry public health consequences; HIV and other severe sexually transmitted infections are stark reminders of that reality. Yet punishing unwed mothers does not eliminate illicit sex. Instead, it drives vulnerable women toward backstreet abortions or desperate baby abandonment—a far greater moral and human tragedy, where the ultimate victim is an innocent child. This crisis has reached epidemic proportions in contemporary Malaysia.

Equally cruel is the state’s practice of branding babies born to unwed Muslim mothers with the lifelong patronymic "bin (or binti) Abdullah" on official birth certificates. Through bureaucratic decree, society stigmatizes an innocent child for life.

The consider the Islamic punishment for illicit sex – death by flogging or throwing rocks. Barbaric without any doubt by any cultural standard. However, consider the criteria for guilt. You would need four adult witnesses to the actual act. Meanaing, you would have to be fornicating in a public place and in brought daylight.  

We must maintain a clear distinction between the sin and the sinner. More crucially, state institutions must not inflict punitive collateral damages on innocent third parties.

 

Privacy, Authority, and the Bedouin Spirit

There is a traditional account of the Caliph Omar performing his nocturnal rounds—an early form of "walkabout management"—when he overheard an unmarried couple in a private residence. He breached their door and declared them guilty of zina (adultery), an offense carrying severe penalties.

The man looked at the ruler and replied calmly that while he and his partner had indeed sinned against Allah, the Caliph on ther hand had committed a far graver offense: violating their divine right to personal privacy.

Omar—demonstrating the humility of true leadership—apologized and withdrew. He understood that Allah is All-Forgiving and All-Generous, capable of pardoning private moral failures. Humans, however, are rarely so merciful. By invading their home, Omar had sinned against his subjects directly. In Islamic jurisprudence, a profound distinction exists between transgressions against God (Huquq Allah) and violations of human rights (Huquq al-'Ibad). Allah may forgive a missed prayer; He does not absolve you of the wrongs you commit against your neighbor unless the victim forgives you first.

That story also illustrates something even more vital: the intellectual courage of those early Bedouins. They were untamed by titles, unimpressed by authority, and unhesitating in challenging their leaders. Even Omar was held accountable to his face. Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.) himself was routinely questioned and challenged by skeptical Meccans during his early ministry.

A society cannot achieve greatness—nor can it adapt to a changing world—if its citizens are too terrified to question authority. In modern Malaysia, criticizing political figures can draw the attention of the police Special Branch. As for the Sultans, positioned as representatives of Allah on earth, they remain shielded from public critique. Few dare ask the more fundamental question: Why does the Almighty require a royal representative on earth?

 

 

Next:  Good Versus Evil

 

 

Mencegah Kemungkaran Dengan Tangan, Lidah, Dan Hati (Niat)

 Mencegah Kemungkaran dengan Tangan, Lidah, dan Hati (Niat)

M. Bakri Musa

Petikan daripada buku saya Qur’an, Hadith, And Hikayat: Exercises In Critical Thinking (2021)

30 September 2026

Perintah utama Illahi yang tertulis dalam Al-Qur’an ialah Amr ma’ruf nahi munkar—biasakan yang baik, jauhi yang jahat. Satu hadis teras menggambarkan pelaksanaannya secara praktikal dan tegas ialah: apabila kamu melihat kemungkaran, cegahlah dengan tangan mu. Jika tidak mampu atau itu mungkin membawa mudarat, cegahlah dengan lidah melalui teguran. Dan iika itu pun masih berisiko, bencilah di dalam hati mu, walaupun itu mencerminkan kelemahan iman.

Hadis lain meluaskan lagi pemahaman kita tentang makna “kebaikan.” Contohnya, seorang pelacur pezina yang diampunkan serta dimasukkan ke Syurga hanya kerana memberi air kepada seekor anjing yang hampir mati kehausan dengan menggunakan kasutnya. Dari sudut moral, taraf hidup si pelacur amat hina dan di pinggiran masyarakat. Peluangnya untuk menebus dosa kelihatan amat tipis. Namun, satu tindakan ihsan terhadap seekor haiwan—yang kerap dipandang kotor dalam perbincangan fekah tradisional—memadamkan semua dosanya. Itu bukan sahaja mengingatkan tentang kemurahan dan keampunan Allah, malah ajakan untuk melihat nilai iman melampaui kepura-puraan.

Ada pula hadis mengenai seorang yang dimasukkan ke Syurga kerana mengambil sebatang duri dari laluan awam. Jika amalan sivik sekecil itu ganjaran pahalanya sedemikian besar, bayangkan nilai sumbangan nyata dalam konteks moden. Renungkan jasa seorang jurutera yang mereka bentuk jambatan kukuh bagi membolehkan petani luar bandar membawa hasil tanamannya ke bandar serta membawa ahli keluarga yang sakit ke hospital.

Renungkan pandangan Padri Martin Luther. Seorang tukang kasut Kristian membuktikan imannya bukan dengan mengukir gambar salib pada kasut rekaannya, sebaliknya dengan membuat kasut yang tahan lasak dan murah harga supaya mampu dibeli oleh golongan miskin. Begitu juga bagi seorang jurutera Muslim; dia membuktikan imannya kepada Allah bukan dengan mengukir ayat-ayat al-Qur'an pada tiang jambatan, tetapi dengan memastikan kira-kira beban, analisis mekanik tanah, dan gred konkrit dibuat dengan tepat supaya struktur itu tidak runtuh dilanda banjir atau dilalui lori berat. Mengabaikan ilmu matematik sambil memperbanyakkan doa di khalayak ramai bukanlah tanda ketakwaan—ia adalah kecuaian profesional yang berselindung di sebalik ketaatan.

Saya berbaru ini mendengar ceramah panjang oleh pendakwah Amerika, Yasir Qadhi, mengenai hadis ini. Beliau memulakan dengan kisah iktibar tentang sekelompok masyarakat yang menegur jiran mereka kerana melanggar aturan Sabat, manakala kumpulan ketiga hanya memerhati sambil mempersoalkan mengapa perlu campur tangan. Walaupun berakar daripada kisah Bani Israil, pengajarannya terpakai secara universal: Qadhi berhujah bahawa amr ma’ruf ialah tanggungjawab kolektif untuk menyampaikan nilai dan norma masyarakat. Tanpanya, sesebuah masyarakat akan hanyut ke dalam sikap acuh tak acuh. Namun, seolah-olah tidak lengkap tanpa lencongan ideologi biasa, beliau menambah: “Seperti yang berlaku dalam masyarakat Barat moden.”

Menurut Qadhi, meninggalkan ritual adalah punca utama kemungkaran, manakala menegur orang lain atas kecuaian itu dianggap sebagai “mengajak kepada kebaikan.”

Kita menyaksikan taksub penegakan ritual yang serupa di Malaysia. Di Kelantan, van bersuara lantang meronda di jalanan menjelang solat Jumaat, memberi amaran kepada lelaki Muslim supaya bersegera ke masjid. Pegawai penguat kuasa agama mengekor di belakang dengan rotan di tangan. Mereka secara harfiah mengaplikasikan hadis tersebut—menggunakan lidah (yang dibesarkan melalui pembesar suara) dan tangan (dengan bantuan rotan) untuk memaksa pematuhan.

Solat Jumaat sememangnya amalan kerohanian yang mulia bagi seorang Muslim, namun ia tidak membawa apa-apa nilai moral bagi seorang bukan Muslim atau ateis. Namun, adakah birokrasi agama kita sudah hilang pertimbangan dan keutamaan? Solat berjemaah itu lebih afdal, tetapi solat di rumah bukanlah satu kejahatan. Namun di bawah logik golongan tegar ini, kegagalan mencapai taraf "ideal" terus dijatuhkan hukuman seolah-olah satu jenayah.

Kecelaruan keutamaan ini menjadi semakin ketara semasa pandemik COVID-19 apabila ramai yang berang dengan penutupan sementara masjid. Mereka gagal memahami prinsip paling asas dalam fikah Islam: pemeliharaan nyawa (hifz al-nafs) sentiasa mengatasi pelaksanaan ritual berjemaah.

Apabila sesebuah masyarakat mendahulukan kawalan ritual berbanding pemikiran kritis, kecekapan profesional, dan perlindungan nyawa manusia, masyarakat itu telah hilang arah. Amr ma’ruf yang sebenar tidak terletak pada hayunan rotan pada hari Jumaat; ia menjelma dalam pembinaan jambatan yang selamat, perlindungan kesihatan awam, dan melayan setiap makhluk ciptaan Tuhan dengan rasa hormat dan bermaruah.

Seterusnya:  Berbuat baik; Kurangankan Mudarat 

 

 

 

Preventing Evil With Your Hands, Tongue, and Heart

  

Preventing Evil with Your Hand, Tongue, and Heart

M. Bakri Musa

September 27, 2026 

 

Excerpted from my Qur’an, Hadith, And Hikayat: Exercises In Critical Thinking (2021)

 

The central imperative of the Qur’an is amr ma’ruf nahi munkar—enjoining good and forbidding evil. A well-known prophetic tradition maps out its execution in clear, pragmatic terms: when you witness an injustice, stop it with your hand. If that is beyond your capacity or would put you in harm’s way, speak out against it. If even that proves too risky, detest it in your heart—though, as the tradition notes, that represents the absolute baseline of faith.

Other hadith broaden our understanding of what constitutes “good.” Consider the story of the prostitute granted Paradise simply for fetching water in her shoe for a dog dying of thirst. On any conventional moral scale, her livelihood placed her at the margins of respectable society. Her redemption seemed an uphill climb. Yet a single act of compassion toward an animal—one often viewed with theological unease in traditional circles—erased a lifetime of transgression. It is a striking reminder of divine grace, but also a call to look beyond superficial piety.

Then there is the man admitted to Paradise for removing a thorn from a public path. If such a minor act of civic consideration earns so immense a reward, consider the ultimate value of modern, tangible contributions: the engineer who designs a reliable bridge allowing rural farmers to bring their crops to market, or families to transport a sick child to the hospital.

This brings to mind Martin Luther’s observation that a Christian cobbler demonstrates his faith best not by carving crucifixes into the leather, but by crafting sturdy, affordable shoes that the poor could afford. Likewise, a Muslim engineer does not honor God by inscribing intricate calligraphy on a bridge’s arches. He honors Allah by getting his stress-strain calculations right, understanding soil mechanics, and specifying the proper grade of concrete so the structure does not collapse under a heavy truck or a seasonal flood. To skimp on math while multiplying public prayers is not piety—it is criminal negligence posing as virtue.

I recently watched an exposition on this topic by the American scholar Yasir Qadhi. He drew on an old theological parable about a group that admonished their neighbors for violating Sabbath restrictions, while a third group stood by, asking why anyone should care what others did. Though rooted in an ancient Israelite context, the lesson translates directly: Qadhi argued that amr ma’ruf is a collective responsibility through which a community signals its core values. Without it, a society slides into moral indifference. Unable to resist a standard ideological detour, he added: “As with modern Western society.”

For Qadhi, failing to observe ritual obligations is the ultimate “bad,” and publicly reprimanding people for it is “commanding good.”

We see this same obsession with ritual policing in Malaysia. In Kelantan, vans equipped with blaring loudspeakers patrol the streets before Friday prayers, warning adult males to assemble at the mosque. Religious enforcement officers follow behind, canes in hand. They are literally applying the Hadith—using the tongue (amplified by electronics) and the hand (reinforced by a stick) to enforce compliance.

Attending Friday prayers is undoubtedly a meaningful spiritual act for a Muslim, though it carries no moral weight for a non-Muslim or an atheist. But has our religious bureaucracy lost all sense of proportion? Praying in congregation may be superior, but praying at home is hardly a moral failure. Yet under the logic of our zealots, falling short of the “ideal” is instantly criminalized as “evil.”

This distorted hierarchy of values became glaringly obvious during the COVID-19 pandemic, when many expressed outrage over the temporary closure of mosques. They failed to grasp a foundational principle of Islamic jurisprudence:  the preservation of human life (hifz al-nafs) takes absolute precedence over communal ritual.

When a society elevates the enforcement of outward rituals over critical thinking, professional competence, and the protection of human life, it has fundamentally lost its way. True amr ma’ruf is not found in brandishing a cane on Friday afternoon; it is found in building safe bridges, protecting public health, and treating every living creature with basic dignity.

Next: Harm Reduction versus Doing Good

Perpecahan Sesama Ummah

 Perpecahan Sesama Ummah

M. Bakri Musa

Petikan daripada buku saya Qur’an, Hadith, And Hikayat: Exercises In Critical Thinking (2021)

20 September 2026

 

Ramalan bahawa ummah akan berpecah kepada 73 puak—dengan hanya satu kumpulan terpilih yang dijamin ke Syurga sementara 72 yang lain bakal membara di Neraka—kekal menjadi tajuk utama dalam wacana popular Islam. Kaum Kristian dan Yahudi kononnya bernasib baik sedikit dalam perpecahan mereka, masing-masing sekadar berpecah kepada 72 dan 71 puak. 

 

Apabila saya membangkitkan hadis ini di hadapan sekumpulan pelajar STEM Malaysia dalam satu perjumpaan Kelab UMNO di New Jersey pada tahun 2010, saya mengemukakan satu latihan logik yang mudah:  Apakah kebarangkalian kira kira bahawa kumpulan kita yang khusus ini—di Malaysia, aliran mazhab Shafi'i yang rasmi dan ortodoks—merupakan pemegang tunggal "tiket emas" tersebut?

 

Jawapannya adalah jelas dan asas: 1 nisbah 73, atau sekadar 1.37 peratus sahaja. Bagi sesiapa yang terlatih dalam bidang statistik, kebarangkalian kecil itu samalah dengan kosong.

Sekarang, terbalikkan persamaan tersebut. Puak atau mazhab anda mempunyai 98.6 peratus kemungkinan untuk tersasar sepenuhnya. Dari segi statistik, itu hampir satu kepastian. 

 

Mereka yang berotak apabila berhadapan dengan angka yang begitu ketara akan serta-merta mengambil sikap yang penuh tawaduk, ingin tahu, dan terbuka dari segi pandangan. Anda akan terdorong untuk mengkaji tradisi atau aliran lain, sekurang-kurangnya sebagai langkah berwaspada untuk mengetahui di mana letaknya kebenaran yang tulen. Sikap begini memupuk toleransi, pemikiran inklusif, dan keraguan yang sihat terhadap andaian sendiri.

 

Pilihan sebaliknya ialah pemikiran yang sedang bermaharajalela sekarang: keangkuhan yang lahir daripada keyakinan mutlak walaupun tanpa sebarang sandaran statistik. Orang beriman meyakinkan diri mereka sendiri bahawa sub-puak kecil mereka memonopoli kebenaran secara eksklusif. Ini melahirkan kompleks penyelamat (messianic complex) yang berbahya—satu desakan kompulsif untuk "menyelamatkan" atau memaksa orang lain mengikut telunjuk mereka—yang akhirnya membawa kepada pergeseran mazhab. Keharmonian sosial yang tulen adalah jauh lebih munasabah sekiranya setiap Muslim bertindak atas andaian asas, yakni kumpulan atau mazhab mereka sendiri mungkin sahaja tergolong dalam kalangan mereka yang sesat.

 

Namun, lihatlah keadaan semasa. Media sosial sarat dengan ulama selebriti maya yang melaungkan mantra biasa tentang "perpaduan ummah." Walaupun berdepan dengan kadar kebarangkalian yang begitu buruk, masing-masing tetap berkeras bahawa tafsiran sempit mereka adalah satu-satunya jalan menuju keselamatan, sambil menghumban 72 puak yang lain ke lembah kebinasaan.

 

Apabila para sarjana ini menuntut "perpaduan," apa yang sebenarnya mereka tuntut ialah keseragaman mutlak (uniformity)—atau lebih parah lagi, persetujuan sebulat suara tanpa berfikir (unthinking unanimity). Mereka dengan mudah mengabaikan premis utama Al-Qur'an: bahawa pada Hari Pengadilan kelak, kita akan ditimbang di atas mizan secara individu berdasarkan amalan kita, bukannya berdasarkan ketaatan suku kaum atau ketaatan kepada mazhab. Syurga tidak menyediakan laluan ekspres VIP untuk aliran pemikiran atau identiti etnik tertentu.

 

Keindahan mendalam di sebalik kepelbagaian manusia langsung tidak ditangkap oleh golongan ini. Bagi mereka, apa jua bentuk variasi atau perbezaan dianggap sebagai bidaah yang tidak boleh diterima. Ironisnya, taksub yang kaku lagi berbahaya terhadap paksaan untuk menjadi serupa inilah yang sebenarnya mengoyak-goyakkan ummah.

 

Seterusnya: Mencegah Kemungkaran dengan Tangan, Lidah, dan Hati Anda

Schisms Among The Ummah

 Schisms Among the Ummah

 

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpted from my Qur’an, Hadith, And Hikayat: Exercises In Critical Thinking (2021)

September 20, 2026

 

The prediction that the ummah would splinter into 73 sects—with a lone, privileged group bound for Paradise while the remaining 72 burn—remains a staple of popular Islamic discourse. The Christians and Jews allegedly fared slightly better in their fractionalization, settling at 72 and 71 sects respectively. When I brought up this tradition to a group of Malaysian STEM students at an UMNO Club gathering in New Jersey back in 2010, I posed a simple exercise in logic: What are the mathematical odds that our specific group—in Malaysia, the official Shafi'i orthodoxy—happens to be the single golden ticket?

The answer is basic arithmetic: 1 in 73, or barely 1.37 percent. To anyone trained in engineering, those odds are functionally zero.

Now invert the equation. Your sect has a 98.6 percent chance of being utterly wrong. In statistical terms, that is practically a certainty. A rational mind confronted with such overwhelming odds would instantly adopt an attitude of deep humility, curiosity, and intellectual openness. You would be compelled to study other traditions, if only to hedge your bets and learn where truth actually resides. It fosters tolerance, inclusive thinking, and a healthy skepticism toward one's own assumptions.

The alternative is the prevailing mindset: the arrogance of absolute certainty despite zero statistical backing. Believers convince themselves that their minor sub-sect holds the exclusive monopoly on truth. This breeds a toxic messianic complex—a compulsive need to "save" or coerce others into line—which inevitably leads to sectarian friction. True social harmony is far more likely if every Muslim operates under the baseline assumption that their own group might very well be among the misguided.

Yet, observe our modern landscape. Social media is choked with virtual, celebrity ulama chanting the familiar mantra of "Muslim unity." Despite the abysmal odds, each insists that his narrow interpretation is the solitary path to salvation, condemning the other 72 to perdition.

When these scholars demand "unity," what they truly demand is absolute uniformity—or worse, unthinking unanimity. They blithely ignore the central premise of the Qur'an: that on the Day of Judgment, we are weighed on the mizanindividually by our deeds, not by our tribal or sectarian affiliations. Heaven has no VIP express lanes for specific schools of thought or ethnic identities.

The profound beauty of human diversity entirely escapes these literalists. To them, any shade of variation is an unacceptable bida'ah (innovation). Ironically, it is this rigid, dangerous obsession with enforced sameness that tears the ummah apart.

Next: Preventing Evil with Your Hand, Tongue, and Heart

 

Najib: A Whiff of His Father's Leadership

 Najib: A Whiff of His Father’s Leadership

M. Bakri Musa

Originally posted on September 19, 2011

(How things change!)

In announcing the repeal of the Internal Security Act (ISA) and other repressive laws, Prime Minister Najib Razak has secured himself an undeniable spot in Malaysian history.

Of the many commentaries following Najib’s historic announcement, the one that struck closest to the core came from the former Mufti of Perlis, Dr. Asri Zainul Abidin. He declared plainly: “The ISA is an un-Islamic law. It infringes upon individual rights and can be easily misused by leaders, so repealing it was a very Islamic move.”

Amen!

“Najib’s announcement,” Asri continued, “is more valuable than any bonus payment or salary increase because repealing the ISA means the restoration of human rights… which is more valuable than money.”

That puts things in their proper perspective. I must disagree, however, with the Mufti’s characterization of Najib’s move as a “gift” to the people.

When someone robs you of your property and later returns it, that is no gift; it is merely the restitution of what was rightfully yours to begin with. The ISA and its statutory cousins robbed us of our most precious possession: our liberty. Freedom is Allah’s gift to humanity, as enshrined in the Qur'an. It is not for mere mortals to tamper with, regardless of their exalted earthly titles.

Nonetheless, I hear the Mufti’s underlying point. A good Muslim ought to be grateful for blessings, however belatedly delivered. Najib’s announcement is indeed a significant blessing, and for that, I am profoundly grateful. Alhamdulillah!

Missing the Islamic Visuals

Najib and his strategists must have deliberated over this for months. It was likely no coincidence that just a week earlier, Najib’s younger brother, Nazir Razak—head of a major GLC bank—hinted at a trade conference that Malaysia needed urgent structural change lest it risk a Middle East–style upheaval.

Returning to the religious dimension, I am surprised that Najib and his advisers did not select an occasion rich in Islamic symbolism to deliver this monumental address. Not that there was anything wrong with choosing Malaysia Day. However, Ramadan had concluded just two weeks prior. Surely Najib had finalized his decision at that time. Imagine if he had timed the announcement for Hari Raya, coinciding with Merdeka Day. What better way to demonstrate the spirit of Ramadan—a season of reflection and return to fundamental truths—while simultaneously fulfilling the core promise of Merdeka: freedom!

When Islam was revealed, it emancipated the Arabs from the age of Jahiliyyah (ignorance). Getting rid of the ISA similarly emancipates Malaysians, lifting us out of our long Age of Fear. As for the essence of our faith, Islam commands us to enjoin good and forbid evil (amr bi-l-ma'ruf wa nahi 'an al-munkar). Dismantling the ISA dismantles an entrenched structural evil; it cannot get more Islamic than that.

Consider the global impact had Najib delivered this speech at the close of Ramadan, mere days before the tenth anniversary of 9/11 and its attendant tide of global Islamophobia. Imagine the narrative shift for Islam itself: a Muslim-majority nation voluntarily discarding its antiquated detention laws—not in response to violent street riots or civil collapse, but as a deliberate act of enlightened governance. The contrast with Washington’s stubborn adherence to the Patriot Act and the Guantanamo detention facility would have been stark and instructive.

Speaking of strategic communications: had I been advising the Prime Minister, I would have coordinated the speech with the immediate, synchronized release of selected ISA detainees. I would have tipped off the international media to position camera crews outside the gates of Kamunting Detention Camp.

The visuals would have been unforgettable. As Najib spoke, prison doors would open, and detainees would step out into the arms of their families. Had there been a nearby mosque, the Azan could have provided the ambient backdrop. A split screen would show the Prime Minister making his solemn address on one side, and families weeping tears of joy on the other, anchored by the faint sound of takbir. That is how you project moral authority. It also happens to make for unbeatable campaign material.

Instead, the Najib administration continues to disburse tens of millions of dollars to foreign Public Relations consultants to polish its global image. Predictably, those glossy documentaries and soft-ball international interviews yielded little more than embarrassing fiascos. Yet when a genuine transformative moment presented itself, these highly paid foreign hucksters missed it entirely. Perhaps that shouldn’t surprise us. Being foreign and non-Muslim, they lacked the cultural intuition to grasp the subtle Islamic nuances at play. But their incompetence on basic media strategy cannot be excused.

Good policy remains the best PR. Notice how instantly the reputable international press praised Najib’s initiative—and it didn't cost the Malaysian taxpayer a single ringgit in consultant fees. Focus on crafting enlightened policy, and favorable coverage will follow. Even if it doesn't, good policy is its own reward; the public will remember who delivered it.

A Whiff of His Father

In committing to repeal the ISA, Najib attempted what none of his predecessors dared to execute. In doing so, he displayed a unmistakable whiff of his late father’s decisive leadership style. The late Tun Razak did not hesitate to suspend Parliament following the May 1969 racial riots. Despite severe criticism at home and abroad, Razak remained resolute because he had a singular duty: restore stability to a fractured nation. May Allah bless his soul; he accomplished that mission with remarkable speed.

For those who understate that achievement, recall that the 1969 tragedy coincided with the outbreak of sectarian violence in Northern Ireland. While Malaysia has enjoyed decades of relative stability since, Northern Ireland spent the next thirty years bogged down in violent conflict.

To this day, Tun Razak remains rare among global leaders: an executive who assumed emergency powers during a national crisis to accomplish a vital goal, and then voluntarily surrendered those powers once the objective was met. History is littered with leaders who had to be dragged out of office, feet-first.

I am less interested in the internal political calculus that drove Najib to this decision; I am more interested in the structural output. Skeptics abound, and they have valid reasons to be wary. Najib’s track record on policy consistency rivals the drift of his immediate predecessor, Abdullah Badawi.

No U-Turn Allowed

Even if the cynics are eventually proven right, the political baseline has fundamentally shifted. Najib has clearly declared his niat (intention) to repeal the ISA. In Islam, niat is paramount. We state our intention before we pray, fast, pay zakat, or undertake the Hajj. If Najib fails to fulfill his Nawaitu, he will have to answer for it—not only to his Creator on the Day of Judgment, but to his political creators (the voters) right here on Earth at the next general election.

Najib’s “Nixon-in-China” Moment

Najib’s declaration reminds me of Richard Nixon’s historic 1972 trip to Beijing. It took another seven years before Washington officially stationed an ambassador in China, and decades later we wonder why it took American leadership so long to acknowledge obvious geopolitical realities. Regardless, the world was better for it. Nixon rode the momentum of that diplomatic breakthrough to a landslide re-election. Though his presidency later collapsed in disgrace over unrelated domestic scandals, his China initiative permanently retained its historic significance.

If Najib’s announcement turns out to be mere political theater and nothing more, then like Nixon, he will at least have this single moment as his redeeming legacy. However, if his niat proves ikhlas (sincere)—and serves merely as the first step in a broader suite of courageous structural reforms—then real greatness awaits both him and Malaysia

Membincang Hadis Dengan Murid Islam Di Amerika

 Membincang Hadis Dengan Murid Islam Di Amerika

M. Bakri Musa

Petikan daripada Qur’an, Hadith, And Hikayat: Exercises In Critical Thinking (2021)

16 September 2026

Saya menggunakan hadis yang terkenal, “Tuntutlah ilmu walau hingga ke negeri Cina,” untuk di bincang dalam kelas sekolah agama hujungan minggu di California. Soalan saya kepada para pelajar cukup mudah: Adakah rujukan kepada negeri Cina itu bersifat literal atau hanya satu metafora? Dalam dunia kuno, Cina mewakili hujung dunia yang diketahui—samalah seperti Timbuktu dijadikan ungkapan bagi ufuk yang amat jauh pada abad-abad berikutnya.

Sebagian besar pelajar dengan pantas bersetuju bahawa masyarakat Arab Bedouin pada abad ke-7 memang mengetahui adanya Negeri Cina. Namun, soalan yang lebih mendalam ialah bagaimana masyarakat Arab kuno di Padang Pasir Arab boleh mengetahui tentang tamadun yang begitu jauh. Kelas terdiam seketika sehinggalah seorang pelajar mengangkat tangan dan memberikan jawapan: “Laluan Sutera!”

Dengan fon tangan mereka, para pelajar terus menyemak rekod sejarah. Laluan Sutera telah berkembang sejak abad ke-2 SM dan kekal menjadi urat nadi perdagangan merentas benua hingga melepasi abad ke-14 Masihi. Pada zaman Nabi, ia merupakan rangkaian laluan perdagangan yang sibuk, dan sebahagian daripadanya merentasi Semenanjung Tanah Arab. Sebagai seorang pedagang yang pernah memimpin kafilah ke Syria, Nabi ( ) secara semula jadinya tentu menyedari kewujudan Asia Timur dan khususnya Negeri Cina.

Harus dijelaskan bahawa apa yang dikumpulkan oleh para pelajar dalam beberapa saat melalui Google di fon tangan mereka hanyalah data dan fakta mentah. Pembelajaran sebenar berlaku apabila mereka menggunakan akal kritis untuk mensintesis fakta-fakta tersebut, menghubungkannya, dan membina satu naratif sejarah yang bermakna.

Sebaliknya, apabila penceramah bebas popular seperti Mufti Menk dengan begitu mudah menepis kemungkinan bahawa Nabi pernah mendengar tentang Negeri China, pendengar yang lurus di Kuala Lumpur sekadar mengangguk mengiyakan tanpa berfikir. Amat memuaskan hati saya apabila melihat sekumpulan remaja sekolah Ahad di Amerika mampu meruntuhkan ketaksuban dogmatik sedemikian secara real-time. Mereka membuktikan apa yang berlaku apabila umat beriman menerapkan sejarah empirikal dan logik asas terhadap tradisi keagamaan, dan bukannya menerima bulat-bulat kenyataan retorik yang kosong. Pemindahan budaya, teknologi, dan pemikiran melalui laluan perdagangan adalah hakikat sejarah yang mantap; mengabaikannya mencerminkan kelesuan intelektual yang bertentangan sama sekali dengan semangat inkuiri Islam.

Ini membawa kepada soalan yang lebih berat: Apakah jenis tempatnya negeri China pada abad ke-7 dari pemandangan seorang Nabi, s.a.w., di negeri Arab?

Pertama, Nabi, s.a.w., mengetahui bahawa Negeri Cina bukanlah sebuah negeri Arab. Kedua, memandangkan Islam pada ketika itu masih di peringkat awal dan terbatas di Semenanjung Tanah Arab, Negeri Cina merupakan sebuah tamadun asing yang bukan berasaskan tradisi Abrahamik. Namun baginda dengan terus terang menggalakkan pengikutnya mengembara ke sana demi menuntut ilmu.

Ini menyingkap dua iktibar yang amat mendalam. Pertama, ia menegaskan keyakinan mutlak Nabi, s.a.w., terhadap kebenaran hakiki risalahnya—baginda tidak pernah bimbang pengikutnya akan terpesong akidah hanya kerana terdedah kepada budaya asing. Kedua, ia menonjolkan kedudukan tertinggi yang diberikan oleh Islam terhadap usaha menuntut ilmu, tanpa mengira dari mana asalnya atau budayanya.

Nabi s.a.w. pasti menyedari bahawa ilmu yang bakal diperoleh dari Negeri Cina pada abad ke-7 itu bukannya ilmu Islam. Sebaliknya masyrakat Cina pada zaman itu terkenal dengan penguasaan mereka dalam pembuatan kertas, tenunan sutera, metalurgi, dan kejuruteraan. Dengan mengarahkan pengikutnya menuntut ilmu sedemikian, Nabi tidak pernah membuat sebarang perbedza’an antara ilmu “agama” dan ilmu “dunia.” Pemisahan yang tegar itu adalah satu fahaman moden yang buatan, kebudak-budakan, dan akhirnya merosakkan minda umat Islam. Semua ilmu yang bermanfaat dan mengangkat darjah kehidupan manusia secara hakikinya wajar dituntut.

Cuba kita pertimbangkan tafsiran yang berlain. Katakanlah Negeri Cina itu sememangnya sekadar metafora sahaja. Maknanya, bagi batas terujung kemampuan manusia. Peribahasa modennya—sama ada secara literal mahupun metafora—ialah tuntutlah ilmu walaupun anda terpaksa berkelana ke angkasa lepas. Dilihat dari sudut pandang tersebut, hadis itu menjadi jauh lebih berpandangan jauh.

Apabila Rusia berjaya melancarkan satelit Sputnik pada tahun 1957, diikuti empat tahun kemudian oleh penerbangan orbit Yuri Gagarin, ia menyemarakkan perlumbaan angkasa lepas. Presiden John F. Kennedy berikrar untuk mendaratkan manusia di bumi bulan sebelum dekad tersebut berakhir. Para pengkritik pada masa itu tergesa-gesa mengecam perbelanjaan yang mahal tersebut dengan hujah bahawa dana sepatutnya ditumpukan kepada masalah mendesak di bumi ini, manakala yang lain memberi amaran tentang bahaya menjadikan angkasa lepas sebagai medan ketenteraan baharu.

Namun hari ini, hasil sampingan teknologi daripada penerokaan angkasa lepas itu menyentuh segenap aspek kehidupan moden. Rangkaian satelit membolehkan Sistem Kedudukan Sejagat (GPS) memandu kapal dan pesawat, membolehkan pertanian tepat, serta meramal cuaca. Teknologi zaman angkasa lepas yang sama itulah yang membolehkan saya berhubung secara bersemuka dengan cucu-cucu saya di seberang Lautan Pasifik, sebagaimana ia membolehkan Imam kami menyampaikan khutbah Jumaat secara maya kepada komuniti kami semasa kemuncak perintah berkurung pandemic Covid.

Tiada hadnya manfaat ilmu. Hikmah berpanjangan daripada Nabi kita—dan perintah teras daripada al-Qur'an—ialah untuk terus mengejar cahaya pengetahuan di mana jua ia berada, sama ada di Negeri Cina kuno, di kedalaman makmal, mahupun di pelosok angkasa lepas.