SOPAN SANTUN IS A MYTH. THEY DON’T EXIST. AT LEAST NOT IN MALAYSIA

SOPAN SANTUN IS A MYTH. THEY DON’T EXIST. AT LEAST NOT IN MALAYSIA

Let’s stop the charade. Let’s peel back the baju kurung of national self-delusion and stare, unblinking, at the uncomfortable truth we whisper in mamak stalls but deny in school assemblies: Sopan santun is dead.If it ever truly lived in this soil we call Malaysia – or its predecessor, Malaya – it was a ghost, a convenient fiction we told ourselves to feel civilised while chaos reigned just beneath the surface.

We clutch budi bahasa and adat istiadat like ancestral amulets, polishing them for tourists and National Day speeches. We teach children elaborate greetings, the bending of backs, the intricate dance of titles (Encik,  Puan, Datuk, Datin, Tan Sri, Puan Sri). We speak in hushed, reverent tones about “Eastern values,” contrasting them favourably with the “rude West.” It’s a beautiful narrative. And it is, largely, a myth.

Evidence? Open Your Eyes:

1. The Road: Our National Colosseum: Step into any car, anywhere. The instant anonymity of tinted windows dissolves centuries of supposed courtesy. Indicators? Optional decorations. Lanes? Mere suggestions. Merging? A gladiatorial contest where the biggest SUV or the most reckless motorcyclist wins. The symphony of horns isn’t frustration; it’s the primal scream of “Saya dulu!” (Me first!). Where is the sopan santun in cutting queues, double-parking while flashing hazard lights like a royal decree, or treating pedestrian crossings as personal slalom courses?
2. The Queue: A Test We Universally Fail: From the nasi lemak stall at 7 AM to the LHDN counter at tax time, the concept of an orderly line remains an alien, almost laughable, imposition. The subtle sidle, the feigned ignorance, the brazen step forward – the art of queue-jumping is a national pastime honed to perfection. It screams a simple truth: Your time is less valuable than mine.
3. The Digital Diatribe: Log onto social media. Witness the torrent of vitriol, racist slurs, personal attacks, and threats that flow like the Klang River after a downpour – often cloaked in anonymity. The same person who bows deeply to an elder in the morning unleashes unfiltered hate online by afternoon. Sopan santun is a costume, easily discarded when no one is looking (or when you think no one who matters is looking).
4. The Service Sector Gauntlet: How do we treat the waiter, the cashier, the security guard, the delivery rider? Too often, not with respect, but with impatience, condescension, or outright contempt. The power dynamic reveals the hollowness of our performative politeness. True sopan santun extends downwards as well as upwards.
5. The Selective Courtesy: Ah, here’s the rub. We are capable of elaborate politeness… when it serves us. Bowing low to the boss, the potential client, the wealthy relative, the religious figure. The smiles are wide, the words honeyed. But turn the corner, meet someone from whom we gain nothing, or worse, perceive as a threat or an inferior? The mask slips. This isn’t sopan santun; it’s transactional deference. It’s strategy, not virtue.

Malaya’s Ghost: Was the Past Truly Politer?

Nostalgists will weep for a lost Malaya of gentle kampung ways. But was it truly a golden age of universal courtesy? Or was it a rigid hierarchy where elaborate deference was demanded from the many to the few – the penghulu, the landlord, the colonial master? The surface calm often masked deep inequalities where “knowing your place” was enforced, not chosen. The sopan santun of old Malaya was frequently about power and survival, not innate gentility.

Why the Grand Illusion?

• The Façade of Harmony: In a nation of diverse, sometimes fractious communities, sopan santun became a necessary social lubricant, a way to appearunified and respectful. We perform it to keep the peace, not necessarily because we feel it deeply.
• Cultural Armour: Claiming superior manners is an easy point of national pride, a way to define ourselves against others. It’s comforting, even if the reality contradicts it daily.
• The “Kantoi” Culture: Fear of getting caught (kantoi) being rude to someone who mattersdrives much of our public performance. It’s not internal virtue; it’s external pressure and potential shame.
• Modernity’s Grind: The pressures of urban life, economic anxiety, and relentless competition erode patience and amplify the primal urge for self-preservation and advantage. Courtesy becomes collateral damage.

Facing the Truth:

We must stop pretending. The elaborate rituals we call sopan santunare often just that – rituals. Empty shells. The core substance – genuine respect for the inherent dignity of every person, the patience to yield, the empathy to consider others – is frequently absent in the messy reality of Malaysian life.

This isn’t a call for despair, but for honesty. Only by acknowledging the myth can we begin to build something real. Perhaps we can forge a new kind of Malaysian civility. Not one based on feudal hierarchy or performative rituals, but on a fundamental, practical recognition: My convenience should not be your burden. My time is not more precious than yours. My existence does not eclipse yours.

Until that day, let’s drop the pretence. Sopan santun, in its idealised, universally applied form? It’s a lovely story we tell. But walk out your door, get in your car, or scroll your feed. The truth is far ruder, far more real, and far more Malaysian. The myth is comforting. The reality is our daily grind. And it’s time we stopped confusing the two.