TONY PUA: DEFENDING ADAB WITH ADAB, NOT THE COURTS

 

TONY PUA: DEFENDING ADAB WITH ADAB, NOT THE COURTS

I disagree with Tony Pua. I believe he profoundly misunderstood the nature of adab in his recent commentary. Yet, as a Malaysian who deeply values our cultural fabric, I find myself equally uncomfortable with the growing reflex to resolve matters of adab through police reports, criminal investigations, and the heavy hand of the law. When our immediate response to a perceived breach of courtesy is to demand prosecution, we must pause and ask ourselves: is this truly how adab is traditionally taught, defended, and preserved?

Let me unpack why I take this stand.

“The highest form of adab is maintaining our own adab even when confronted by a lack of adab.”

The moment we push every disagreement, insult, or cultural misunderstanding into the legal arena, we inadvertently weaken the very social mechanisms that cultivate character in the first place. Adab cannot be coerced by a magistrate; it must be taught, modeled, and lived. It is a value transmitted quietly from one generation to the next through social fabric, not legal force. By relying on state power to enforce respect, we slowly hollow out our collective capacity for self-regulation. A society that genuinely prizes adab should not merely look to punish those who lack it; it should patiently work to cultivate it. This is because the highest form of adab is maintaining our own adab even when confronted by a lack of adab.

There is a striking irony in the current uproar. If Tony Pua’s mistake was reducing our traditional rulers to their legal and constitutional powers alone, then his critics are making the exact same error by reducing adab to a matter of law. Both sides are looking through the same narrow lens. Pua views the rulers solely through legal frameworks, while his critics view cultural decorum solely through the threat of legal penalty. Yet, both the institution of our rulers and the concept of adab possess deep, spiritual, and historical dimensions that extend far beyond the boundaries of any courtroom.

Traditionally, the Malay world maintained a clear and sophisticated boundary between the domain of the court and the domain of culture. Some matters unequivocally belong to the law: theft, fraud, assault, and corruption. These require prosecution. But matters of disrespect, discourtesy, cultural insensitivity, or a poor understanding of social hierarchy belong strictly to the realm of adab. Historically, a breach of adab was met with advice (nasihat), explanation, community guidance, and a pathway toward reconciliation—not a prison sentence.

Furthermore, Pua’s misstep reveals a broader, modern blind spot regarding the nature of power. Many commentators today suffer from a highly legalistic, sterile view of leadership that recognizes only formal, constitutional authority. This is a very rigid approach to governance. In contrast, our system relies heavily on relational, moral, and cultural gravity. Real leadership consists of a much richer tapestry: influence, persuasion, moral authority, symbolism, and historical legitimacy. A ruler may have strictly defined constitutional boundaries in a particular matter, yet still command immense cultural and moral influence. To assume that a lack of direct legal authority equates to a lack of a meaningful role is to fundamentally misunderstand how communities, organizations, and the Malay world actually function.

This brings us to the real test of adab, which forms the heart of this entire issue. It is incredibly easy to show respect to those who are being respectful to us. The true measure of our character shines when the opposite occurs. When a child behaves rudely, we do not sue them; we teach them. When a friend shows insensitivity, we advise them. When someone fails to comprehend our traditions, we explain them. Tony Pua and those who share his mindset do not need a judge to help them "see." They need teachers and role models of adab, and a better, deeper understanding of how leadership, influence, and persuasion truly work in our society and the world at large.

Ultimately, the issue before us today is not actually Tony Pua. The issue is how we, as Malaysians, choose to respond. If we truly believe that adab matters, we must defend it with adab, teach it through adab, and model it through adab. The best way to preserve a value is never to aggressively demand it from others, but to practice it flawlessly ourselves. If adab is important enough to protect, then it must guide the very manner in which we protect it.

The Malays of old reminded us, "Bagaimana acuan, begitulah kuihnya" (As the mould, so the cake). If we wish to defend adab, then the manner in which we defend it must itself be guided by adab. If we wish to teach adab, then we must first embody it. We must become the example from which others learn.

Peace.

Anas Zubedy