We have lost the art of debate. The courage to voice an opposing view. To disagree with grace, without running the gauntlet of religious paranoia, social ridicule, political exile, or in some cases, imprisonment.

Despite the national chatter, the ho-hum of our daily cackling, we have yet as a nation, found the courage to speak up nor have the charity of spirit to embrace dissent.

It has been a while since I saw a sea of hands raised when the speaker in the seminar asks the customary 'do you have any questions?' Yet we speak freely in small groups outside the seminar hall, away from the spotlight glare and unencumbered by public scrutiny.

Indeed it is a national malady that more human interaction takes place in the corridors, toilets, bars and online newspapers than they do in Cabinet meetings, assemblies and parliament of the nation.

It has been hypothesised that as Asians we shy away from formal forums. We detest any public display of confrontation. To disagree is discourteous. The whole basis of our social discourse - family, education, religion - is based on paternal monologue.

One that flows from the old and wise to the youth, from teachers to students, from leaders to followers. The very notion of interactive dialogue and civil debate is alien in our social traditions.

Like an Egyptian sphinx plonked in a Subang suburbia, our democratic institutions are simply artificial constructs that mimic the rituals for their own sake. The crucial decisions that affect our lives have already been decided by the anointed ones, huddled in the Prime Minister's office.

A Singapore reflection

National resources are transacted over hushed whispers in the marbled executive suites and lobbies, then rubber-stamped by subservient cabinet and parliament.

The media-reported parliamentary antics and sombre tirade, which portray the impression of a democracy in action, can hardly keep us awake, much less seduce us. The reality is, our fate, what is good for us and the country, has been determined somewhere else, in the shadows.

This thought occurred as I was walking by the Singapore Parliament building. The plaque on the immaculate grounds reads: 'Please maintain the cleanliness, dignity and serenity of the parliament house'.

The notion of a serene parliament illustrates a surreal dichotomy between our quest for democracy, in all its chaotic splendour, and our cultural anathema for confrontation.

Do we really know what we want, or are we simply dabbling in something because it is the fashionable thing to do?

We scream for free speech. Yet as individuals we cringe and hesitate to disagree. The word 'no' might as well be erased from our vocabulary. Conflict makes us uncomfortable. We squirm in our seats and avoid eye contact when someone takes that controversial stand.

Our very upbringing is based on the premise that we are seen and not heard. Display of disagreement is seen as unproductive, inefficient and runs counter to our so-called Asian values.

Tangoing and waltzing in batik

Politicians and professionals avoid head-on conflict and constantly search for common grounds and consensus. They gloss over their differences and accentuate their well-crafted shared values, looking as odd as batik-clad ministers at an Apec summit, as they manoeuvre to synchronise their tango and waltz to the same old tired tune.

By no coincidence our leaders, speaking on our behalf, of course, declared we prefer order to "chaos". In their typical simplistic black and white dogma, they equate free speech to social and political disorder.

They took away our rights and told us it is the only path to racial harmony and prosperity. And we fell for it.

The more I am subjected to the usual 'Asian cultural relativism' parody from Dr Mahathir Mohamad, Lee Kuan Yew, Jiang Zemin et al, the more I am convinced the subservient Asian Way is a cynical and self-serving construct.

Leaders and those who subscribe to it are indulging in the precisely patronising attitude they are trying to avoid - the idea that we are not mature enough to make our own decisions and need a Big Brother to oversee our juvenile curiosities and meandering.

A parliament is no temple. It is a house for national discourse, where the affairs of the nation are discussed and determined.

It's good to be messy

Far from being serene, it should be as chaotic as the weekend pasar malam, where real people speak about real issues, with passion, about things that matter in the lives of their constituents.

It is messy. But the messiness of democracy is nothing compared with the disorder of collapsing economies brought on by corrupt, inept and unaccountable leaders.

In fact in working democracies, corruption and incompetence are exposed much sooner and the odd wayward leader may be impeached and brought to justice, without fear of repression.

Debate is necessary for democracy to thrive. Debate happens when people disagree. And disagreements naturally result when the representatives of millions of people with differing views and aspirations speak their minds and make their stand. What's the big deal?

Real life is a carnival of voices. The sounds of joy, anger, exhilaration and grief as we eat, live, breathe and procreate. So speak up. Rock the boat. Don't just think outside the box. Get out of the box and demolish it. Live outside the box.

Have an opinion or two. 'The world is flat', 'Abolish special privileges', 'Legalise Foam Parties' etc. Disagree and debate. Say "no" with a smile, while holding true to our beliefs. Incite and provoke discussion and perhaps through the chaos will bubble forth ideas that will help us grow as a nation.

And as we speak, listen with an open mind and heart. Absorb and reflect on the ideas and words before rebutting from our ever-ready arsenal of court precedents, biblical testimonies and hadith. Allow ourselves to be convinced by the opponents.

Unlike our country club membership, our democratic right is non-transferable. Free speech is a right. And like all worthy causes, speaking up has its risks.

Sleek BMWs and sleeping dogs

Until we realise the importance of speaking up, until we stop doing a cost/benefit analysis for voting for the opposition, and reclaim our rights, we will continue to huddle and whisper in the shadows of dark corners and find anonymity in an online newspaper.

I am beginning to be persuaded by a cynical view that perhaps we are the living validation of the hypothesis.

That we prefer compromise to conflict. That democracy is just too hard and too costly to achieve. That as long as there is a sleek BMW in the garage, platinum cards in the custom-leather wallet and caviar and lobster on the table, let sleeping dogs lie.

Then again, it's just my opinion. What do you think?

ABU BAKAR is a Sydney-based writer and management consultant. A carpetbagger, he is an incurable idealist with a passion for social justice and fish curry. He writes introspective footnotes and dreams of an open, honest and confident Malaysian Malaysia.