By Nahrizul Adib
There are patriots you see on TV – waving flags, carrying rifles carrying, thundering out speeches, marching in parades to the rhythm of history.
And then there are others – quieter, less photogenic, sometimes not even sure if they count.
I personally used to think patriotism had to be loud. That it had to come with a dramatic gesture: becoming a soldier protecting the country in Sarawak, climbing Mount Kinabalu with the Malaysian flag, shouting Tunku Abdul Rahman’s “Merdeka!” cry at just the right pitch for a theatre performance, or remembering the sacrifices made by our soldiers by organising a trip to the National Monument. Maybe with a drone shot thrown in for the group photo.
But over time, with different groups of people and many coffee sessions and slow walks across this imperfect, beautiful land, I’ve grown curious about another kind of patriot.
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The kind who doesn’t post on their social media about Merdeka, but still pays the utility bills on time every month.
The kind who returns their tray at food courts.
Who holds back an eye-roll and speaks kindly even when dealing with difficult customers.
Who sees one more student after the lecture ends on late Friday afternoons, even when the body says no and the weekend is calling.
These are not grand acts. They won’t make it into any Petronas Merdeka video. But they carry something important: a quiet, persistent belief that this country is worth showing up for.
Take, for example, the man who repairs your broken brake lights without overcharging you, even when he knows you won’t check the bill and don’t know the actual cost of the parts.
Or the civil servant who wears batik on Thursday because she wants to, not because she’s told to.
Or the fresh grad who stays in the country, despite all the enticing offers of a higher salary in that neighbouring country.
None of this is glamorous. But then again, neither is nation-building. Most of it is unglamorous.
It’s late nights, slow systems, second-guessing policies, working with people you didn’t vote for.
It’s fixing what’s broken without waiting for permission.
It’s trusting the process, even when the process feels like a queue at a viral nasi goreng (fried rice) place that’s just opened in Bukit Bintang.
I reckon we’ve been taught to expect patriotism as a spectacle – flags on cars, fireworks in the sky, trending hashtags and recitations. And that’s fine.
But maybe, just maybe, we can also recognise the ones who don’t march, don’t shout, but still love this land like it’s their only one. They are the ones who check if the elderly neighbour’s bin has been brought in. Who still feel pride when hearing the Negaraku, the national anthem, even if only under their breath.
They’re not waving flags. They’re holding the line.
The truth is, most people I know are this kind of patriot. They don’t wear their love for Malaysia on their sleeves – partly because sleeves are already rolled up doing the actual work. They don’t go viral for what they do, and frankly, most of them wouldn’t want to.
And yet, it’s these quiet gestures that give this country its backbone. They’re the reason your street gets cleaned, and your parcel eventually arrives (even if two days late and slightly squashed).
They’re also the reason some of us still believe we can get better – not because we’ve reached perfection, but because we know people who haven’t given up.
I sometimes wonder what it would take for us to change the way we talk about patriotism. Maybe we should start counting not just the medals and moments of glory, but also the mundane acts of care. The things done without fanfare. The daily kindnesses. The grit to stay.
We’re told often enough what’s wrong with this country. And truth be told, there’s plenty to fix.
But maybe amid that fixing, we can take a moment this August to notice the ones who are quietly holding us together. Who are still choosing, every day, to stay. To help. To care. To build something better – even if it’s just in their own little corner of Malaysia.
Because sometimes, patriotism isn’t loud. Sometimes, it’s just…
Consistent.
Ir Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering and principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College in the University of Malaya.
AGENDA RAKYAT - Lima perkara utama
- Tegakkan maruah serta kualiti kehidupan rakyat
- Galakkan pembangunan saksama, lestari serta tangani krisis alam sekitar
- Raikan kerencaman dan keterangkuman
- Selamatkan demokrasi dan angkatkan keluhuran undang-undang
- Lawan rasuah dan kronisme
Yes Nahrizul, these unsung heroes are seldom recognized for their deeds. Time they be acknowledged for the duties they perform over and beyond the call of duty.
I had two pleasant experiences at KLIA recently.
The Malaysia Airport staff who ensured I did not wait in the queue being a senior citizen during my check in to get my boarding pass for my departure. He personally took me to a special counter.
On my return, the pleasant young lady immigration officer who cleared me immediately being a senior citizen despite the queue being for business class passengers. She politely told me the queue was only for business class passengers but nevertheless obliged me.