18/08/2025

MONDAY | AUG 18, 2025

11

We need law and order in Washington Ű BY ERIC S. MARGOLIS

THE last time I was in Washington, DC, I came out of my downtown hotel near the White House and asked the doorman which way to walk to a certain restaurant. “Turn left, you will be fine,” he said. “Turn right and you may be murdered.” This, in the hallowed capital of the world’s most powerful nation. I was already well familiar with the many dangers of one of America’s most crime ridden cities. As a graduate of the Foreign Service School of Georgetown University, I knew all about street crime. A girlfriend of mine, Barbara M., was raped and murdered in trendy Georgetown. A CIA officer was killed in Georgetown by a mugger. We lived in a swamp of violence and fear. The city police were useless. The city’s black mayors ordered the police to avoid antagonising the city’s 80% black voters. Washington once held the nation’s highest murder rate, rivalled by Baltimore, Cleveland and Detroit. I used to own a manufacturing company across the river from Detroit. Our general manager was murdered there during a holdup. Crime rates in the US are intolerable. The key problem arose from America’s black people. It was our curse and punishment for slavery. Millions of black Americans had no education, family, discipline or reason to observe the laws. Social problems were the cause but so was sheer lawlessness. The crime rate in South Africa’s cities, as I observed, was as bad as in the US. I rarely agree with President Donald Trump but this time I applaud his sending of federal agents, the National Guard and more police into DC. This is a real emergency. Even way back when I was at Georgetown University, we used to say, “Mr President, please send in the US Army and Marine Corps to DC”. Until now, there has been almost no law or order in DC. No action was taken for fear of creating a major racial crisis. Democrats, who relied on black votes, thwarted effective action to impose law and order. The same thing happened – to a somewhat lesser degree – in my native New York. Now, none too soon, comes Trump’s iron fist. This is classical dictatorial behaviour. Lucius Cornelius Sulla did this in ancient Rome around 60BC. Mussolini made the trains run on time. The public always prefers law and order to abstractions about proper democratic behaviour and loves political theatrics, such as the former showman Trump offers nightly. Washington needs martial law but authoritarian governance is, as was said of fire, “a useful servant but a dangerous master”. The draconian steps taken by Trump in Los Angeles and now Washington are very dangerous. The Trump administration is too drunk on power and could quickly become addicted to using martial law to enforce its policies. Such, as noted, was the case with the Roman Republic that quickly slid into dictatorship. The Roman Senate was turned into an impotent talking shop where mad emperor Caligula proposed making his horse a senator. One would not be astounded to see such lunacy in today’s US Congress with a moonshiner made head of the FBI. So, Trump’s imposition of law and order in Washington, DC must be limited by Congress to remain only in the District of Columbia. Congress is too busy taking great sums of money from the White House – much of it is supplied by gambling interests and a foreign ”ally”. Time to think of America, which should be as free of street crime as Europe. EricS. Margolis is a syndicated columnist. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com

These small moments matter too because nationhood is built not just on events but also on experience. It is not just the milestones we remember; it is the way they made us feel connected, even when we were far apart. – BERNAMAPIC

Stories that shaped us T HERE is a question that often arises when something big happens – a historic moment, a national milestone, a collective high. It usually For the first time, the ruling coalition was changed. Not through force or upheaval but through the quiet, determined power of the vote. People queued in the heat, some for hours. Some travelled across borders, taking buses and flights home just to mark an X on a ballot. There was tension, yes. But there was also something else: hope. COMMENT by Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri

towns, spoken different dialects, attended different schools but the moment the Sidek brothers stepped onto the court or when the results rolled in after GE14, we were there – one in spirit. Yet, these memories, whether personal or collective, are slowly fading. We live in an era of fast timelines and short attention spans. Moments come and go, swallowed by algorithms and speed. The things that once glued us together are being replaced by smaller, more personalised stories – meaningful, yes, but often disconnected from the larger whole. That is why I believe now, more than ever, we need to start recording our stories, not for history books, but for each other. For the generations who did not grow up with the Thomas Cup or the Reformasi years or who never saw a transfer of power that felt truly earned. It does not have to be big, just honest. Write about where you were when something mattered. Tell your children what Merdeka meant to your parents. Share with a friend that memory you have always carried but never voiced, because if we don’t pass these stories on, who will? So this Merdeka, ask someone: “Where were you when…?” and listen carefully. Then share your own. Memories, like nationhood, live best when it is passed from hand to hand. DrNahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com captured five decades of enduring friendship. On behalf of the ACS class of 1975, I would like to extend our deepest appreciation to the dedicated organisers for their meticulous planning and for creating such a memorable evening. To all my fellow schoolmates – it was a profound joy to see you all again. The memories from that night will stay with us until our next reunion. Fide et Labore.

Hope that this country belonged to its people – that we were no longer just passengers but co-pilots, that power could change hands peacefully and that we, the rakyat , are the ones responsible for deciding the direction of this country moving forward. You didn’t need to be in Putrajaya or Dataran Merdeka to feel it; you could have been watching from a living room in Penang or a mamak stall in Johor Bahru or a hostel room in Sarawak. It did not matter where you were because the moment still reached you. That is what makes these memories powerful. They become shared reference points in the timeline of our lives. Of course, not every Merdeka memory is tied to politics or spectacle. Sometimes, it is quieter – a flag being raised in your neighbourhood, a conversation over teh tarik about what independence really means, a late-night drive on empty roads, with patriotic songs playing softly on the radio. These small moments matter too because nationhood is built not just on events but on experience. It is not just the milestones we remember; it is the way they made us feel connected, even when we were far apart. And that is the thread I keep coming back to: our shared experiences. You and I may have grown up in different that is testament to the enduring bond we still share after all these years. While most of us now reside in Kuala Lumpur, the Klang Valley and Seremban, it was particularly touching to see friends who had travelled great distances, including one from the US and another from Brunei, to be with us. The organisers did a truly magnificent job. The evening was filled with laughter, shared memories and a powerful sense of camaraderie. The special highlight of the night was being invited on stage to cut our 50th anniversary cake – a symbolic moment that perfectly

begins like this: “Where were you when…?” Most of the time, it is not about geography but memory – about anchoring ourselves to something larger, remembering not just what happened but how it made us feel. For me, one such moment was the night of the 1992 Thomas Cup finals. Malaysia versus Indonesia. Badminton, of course. It was a Saturday, and I was a 17-year-old schoolboy at Malay College Kuala Kangsar. I watched it from the common room of our hostel – surrounded by boys in kain pelikat , clutching pillows, Milo mugs and SPM notes – all eyes fixed on a grainy television screen, struggling to keep up with the speed of the shuttle. We won. We brought the cup home after 25 years. And for a few beautiful hours, everything else faded – prep class, homesickness, SPM trial stress – replaced by a kind of joy that felt bigger than sport, bigger than school; something national, something shared. That moment and others like it become personal chapters in a larger story: the story of how we remember Malaysia. Another such chapter came in May 2018, when Malaysians went to the polls in what would become one of the most significant general elections in our history.

ACS class of ‘75 marks golden milestone

LETTERS

letters@thesundaily.com

I AM writing to express my sincere gratitude and immense joy following our unforgettable school reunion dinner on Aug 2. This year marks a golden milestone for us – the ACS Seremban class of 1975. It has been 50 years since we all left our beloved alma mater, yet the bonds we forged remain strong as ever. The occasion brought together four tables of former schoolmates – a remarkable turnout

Michael Ng Seremban