By Nahrizul Adib Kadri
Nations, like people, grow awkwardly. But that’s still growth.
Some days it’s obvious: a new MRT line, a policy that finally makes sense, a younger leader speaking with quiet wisdom. Other days, it’s clumsy and contradictory. We move forward and stumble back. We say all the right words and then forget how to listen. We rise in unity, or in protest, but rise all the same. And maybe that’s the point. Nationhood is not a product. It’s a process.
I’ve lived long enough to see the contradictions—progress that feels delayed, unity that feels fragile, decisions that inspire one week and confuse the next. Yet I’ve also seen what remains steady: our spirit to rebuild, reimagine, and try again. Over and over. This Merdeka season, as we approach Hari Malaysia, I’ve been thinking less about what Malaysia is, and more about what we are still becoming.
We’ve never been a finished story. Not in 1957, not in 1963, not now. And if you read the newly unveiled Rancangan Malaysia Ketiga Belas (RMK13), you’ll sense that too. It doesn’t claim perfection or pretend we’ve arrived. Instead, it offers a vision rooted in fairness, sustainability, and shared dignity. At its core, RMK13 is about reshaping development—not just what we build, but why and for whom. It speaks of raising the floor of our society, of ensuring no one is left behind as we chase digital dreams and AI ambitions. It weaves high-tech growth with age-old values: justice, trust, belonging. It’s not flashy patriotism; it’s practical hope.
And if you read between the lines, there’s a quiet truth: the government can lay out the roadmap, but the work is still ours. Policy means nothing if the people aren’t walking with it. You want a better Malaysia? Then show up. Plant something. Mentor someone. Speak kindly when it’s easier to mock. Choose integrity when shortcuts are everywhere. Be part of the solution, not the problem.
Progress isn’t found only in five-year plans or policy documents. It’s found in everyday choices: the way you run your business, the way you raise your kids, the way you treat strangers—not just the ones who look like you. We say we want a fairer country, then we must be fairer in our own homes and dealings. We say we want unity, then we must build friendships beyond our comfort zone. We say we want peace, then we must stop feeding the small fires of fear and suspicion, both online and offline.
RMK13 reminds us that national growth means everyone matters, not just the top earners or the urban elite. It acknowledges our diversity not as a hurdle but as strength. It speaks of green economies, creative industries, and digital ambition, but always with the human being at the centre. That’s the Malaysia I want: one where development isn’t just tall buildings but strong communities, where governance isn’t just efficient but ethical, where freedom isn’t just personal but shared.
We are a country made of many parts: Semenanjung, Sabah, Sarawak. Malay, Chinese, Indian, Orang Asli, Iban, Kadazan, and all the in-betweens. Our geography reflects our complexity. Our stories overlap, tangle, stretch across sea and memory. But if there’s one thing that keeps us together (I hope), it’s the belief that we’re not done yet.
There’s still work to be done. Floods still come. Prices still rise. Trust still cracks. But here’s what gives me hope: even when the news disappoints us, Malaysians rarely give up on each other. We still pack food for strangers (remember #KitaJagaKita during the pandemic?). We still queue to vote (even if it’s held in the middle of the week). We still stand up whenever NegaraKu is played, even on TV (for a sports event thousands of kilometres away). It may not make the headlines, but that’s the country I see.
So this Hari Malaysia, let’s celebrate not just where we came from but where we are willing to go. Let’s honour the awkward steps, forgive the fumbles, and keep choosing to build. Together. Because we are not a perfect country, but we are a possible one. And that possibility, that willingness to become something better, is worth showing up for.
Always.
Ir Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the Principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya. He may be reached at nahrizuladib@um.edu.my