What has happened to that campaign launched by one government ministry or another some time ago, to instil the values of courtesy and social grace among Malaysians?

I remember vaguely reading a regular column in the Star then, lamenting and exposing the many uncouth behaviour patterns of the Ugly Malaysian. Unfortunately and inevitably, like those government campaigns to eradicate so many social ills, ranging from drug addiction, smoking, road rage, dirty toilets to corruption, this particular campaign to make Malaysians more polite fizzled out into a helpless whimper now no longer remembered.

If the failure proves anything at all, it is that government campaigns are pretty futile and useless in most things, except for those media companies putting up giant billboards and advertisements all over our public space.

So, in public at least, many Malaysians continue to be ill-bred, ill-mannered, boorish, inconsiderate, downright brutish, and shamelessly selfish.

We have come to expect bad service at all kinds of service counters. There, you meet shop assistants who do not assist, but prefer to have a good time among themselves, gossiping, laughing and flirting, while furious customers wait impatiently, feeling like being done a favour in spending his/her hard-earned money. Here, shop-assistants, and not customers, are always right.

Political philosophers have always extolled the virtue of commerce. Even before the appearance of government and state in the modern sense of the words, there have always been trade. People develop human interaction and social cohesion through such transactions, thereby forming the basis of a civil society.

For some strange reason, this is not the case in Malaysia.

Even in posh outlets or restaurants, I always make it a point to say "thank you" to the cashier when she hands me the change. About half of the times, the wooden faced functionary would even look a little rattled, and murmur some suitable but inaudible response. Others would just avoid eye contact and stare vacantly ahead, presumably wishing in their hearts for my disappearance.

Justified apprehension

The government counters and that of the numerous government linked companies that run our life are worse. I always cringe before I approach such establishments, expecting the worst. Occasionally, one gets a pleasant surprise. Most of the time, one's morbid apprehension of such encounters is fully justified.

I have gone to my local post office only twice in the last year, looking for some simple information about postage or such other mundane things. Twice I was snapped and shouted at by the counter staff as if I was a stray dog wandering into the august premises reserved for humans only. It must be something I wore. In any case, it is a good thing firearms are banned in this country.

Of course, nowhere is this Ugly Malaysianism more apparent than on our highways and roads. Here, every driver and every motor-cyclist uses the same road on the premise that he or she can commit no wrong, no matter what the traffic law says.

The motor vehicle has lost its meaning as a means of private transportation; it has become an effective instrument of the Will to Power, as well as an implement for the expression of one's anger and frustration at all the other stupid human beings in the world. Finally, it degenerates into a weapon for domination, intimidation and eventually for destruction of life and property.

Although our cities are pretty much westernised by now, our world of trade and commerce seems to have yet to pick up the westerners' polite salutations such as "good morning/afternoon/evening", "excuse me", "how can I help you", "thank you", "you are welcome", "I am sorry". "good-bye", "have a nice day" and so on.

One does expect the profuse use of these greetings upon a fresh contact in a new situation, as a way of breaking the ice, a lubricating device to assuage the sense of mutual alienation that exists naturally between strangers.

Instead, more often than not, I get this eerie inane enquiry: "Where are you from?" This meaningless question is particularly rampant on the telephone.

Confronted with this demand for irrelevant information, my mind explodes with a kaleidoscopic coterie of answers. I am from Adam and Eve, metaphorically speaking. I am from my father and my mother, of the Sim Clan, originating from the Teochew Prefecture of Guan Dong Province in China. According to anthropologists, I could have descended from the African Savannah a few million years ago.

Talk about a breakdown in communication!

Not valued

I may be wrong here. The employees of the high end of the market do get trained to say these little words. In general they do sound like they understand the principle that courtesy is good for business.

But it must be my anti-social tendencies at work. At the end of talking to these well-trained, well-paid staff of our blue chip companies, especially on the telephone, I get this distinct impression that beneath the veneer of politeness in this impersonal voice at the other end of the line, and despite the courteous salutations, I am not really valued. There is no interest in me as a human individual at all. Worse still, there is not the slightest hint of curiosity or interest about me.

In my book, the banks and the telephone companies are the worst culprits in this department.

One can only speculate as to the reasons why this is so. Pulling my weight as a senior citizen, I dare say that it has not always been a jungle like this. You can still catch a glimpse of a gracious past at the older wet market. There, the old timers are still interested in their regular customers. With genuine pleasure, they smile and enquire about your cat for which you are buying the fish, and if business is slow, a conversation about rising prices, the state of the economy, and the misdeeds of politicians will ensue. It makes your day.

In retrospect, we cannot go from an agrarian 'backward' economy to a pulsating industrial trading society within the short span of a few decades without doing violence to our soul. The social and physical mobility that propels urbanisation has torn asunder our innocent simple but pleasurable neighbourhood spirit. When the local community and the extended family have disappeared, the need and the ground for gracious courtesy are gone too.

Nowadays, people live and work in highly urbanised and very congested settings. The home may be a fortress, with bars on every door and window, and padlocks and alarm systems throughout the entire castle. The castle has made prisoners of the inhabitants inside.

Outside the home and in every form of public space, it is a jungle where the Darwinian struggle for survival dictates that one must bare all claws and teeth in order to get ahead. To be courteous and civic-conscious is to give way, and that would mean losing both face and advantage in this vicious competitive world. This beastly existence is the origin of the Kiasu philosophy by which Malaysians live and die.

My elder brother has another explanation for this deterioration of humanity in Malaysia. He says that shop-assistants, waitresses and cashiers treat customers like dirt, because probably their bosses and employers treat them like dirt. It is a vicious cycle of social norm from which no Malaysian can find escape.

It is a piece of refreshing observation. Thus discomforted, I look into the mirror. These I see the New Malaysian Visage, frowning, fierce-looking, eternally impatient, irritable and ready to be offended, to break out into a snapping fit against my fellow citizens, just like the average face of any Malaysian you see on the street. I suppose that is the face I wear too when I drive my car on the road.

Finger-pointing

Like a good Malaysian, I play this game of finger-pointing. We do this to others because of what others do to us. Sitting at the apex of our socio-political pyramid, are those politicians who screw up the nation. They are to be blamed.

When the implicit presupposition for our nation-building objective is that, if "you" do not "give" what "they" want, then there is going to be a bloody violent riot, it is hard to feel good about your fellow citizens. The natural conclusion is that, if you are not beastly to your fellow men, how can you survive and get ahead?

Meanwhile, you watch top dogs and leading citizens of all ethnic persuasions unscrupulously skimming the nation's wealth and economic opportunities without fear of reprisal from the state, and without respect for the principle of justice and fair-play implied in the rule of law, and you know that the law has been usurped for their benefits. You then decide that if you cannot fight them, you might as well join them in this dog-eat-dog way of life.

Should we wonder then why we have become a nation of beastly creatures, without regard for the law and respect for other human beings?