Enemies in Parliament, friends at funerals and weddings

POLITICS in Malaysia can be an exhausting business.

Politicians disagree over policies, trade barbs across the political divide and sometimes behave as though sitting on opposite sides of Parliament means they cannot possibly occupy the same room.

Then comes a funeral or a wedding, and suddenly, the political temperature drops.

There they are, leaders who spend much of their working lives disagreeing, standing side by side, exchanging greetings, offering condolences and posing for photographs.

For a moment, they remind us that politics is only one part of being human.

Apparently, a funeral announcement or a wedding invitation can achieve what countless political meetings struggle to accomplish.

Take the funeral of Tun Dr Hasmah Mohd Ali on September 28. The former prime minister’s wife, who died at the age of 100, was laid to rest as political leaders from different parties gathered to pay their last respects.

In the presence of grief, party affiliations took a back seat.

There were no parliamentary debates to win, political points to score or policy differences to settle. It was a time to offer condolences and stand with a family in mourning.

Death has a way of putting things into perspective.

Political careers, positions and rivalries may dominate the headlines, but some moments call for silence, dignity and compassion rather than another round of verbal sparring.

Weddings, meanwhile, offer a happier reason for politicians to mingle.

The wedding of Muar MP Syed Saddiq Syed Abdul Rahman and actress Bella Astillah brought together people from different corners of public life, including those whose political affiliations would not ordinarily place them on the same side.

A wedding is, after all, a celebration. There are congratulations to offer, smiles to exchange and photographs to take.

Nobody wants to be the guest who turns a happy occasion into a political debate over the main course.

For the duration of the celebration, party loyalties can be set aside. Political opponents become fellow guests, sharing the same space and perhaps even the same table.

Of course, a photograph of politicians standing together does not amount to political reconciliation.

A handshake at a wedding does not mean an opposition leader will suddenly support the government’s next policy. Nor does attending a funeral erase old grievances.

Come Monday morning, the familiar routines resume. Criticisms return, debates continue and political allegiances once again take centre stage.

But these occasions offer a useful reminder that disagreement over governance need not become personal animosity. Politicians can challenge one another’s positions, question decisions and criticise policies without denying their opponents basic human courtesy.

The challenge is to carry that courtesy beyond the cemetery and the wedding hall.

Nobody expects politicians to abandon their convictions or stop scrutinising their opponents.

That would defeat the purpose of democratic debate. But they could borrow a few lessons from these gatherings: listen without interrupting, disagree without humiliating and criticise without making everything personal.

Imagine if a little of the atmosphere at a wedding reception found its way into Parliament.

The country would still have its share of political drama, but perhaps the arguments could be conducted with a little more grace.

At weddings, politicians come to celebrate a union. At funerals, they come to honour a life. Both occasions remind them that beyond party colours and political loyalties, they belong to the same country.

The real test is what happens after the photographs are taken and the guests go home.

After all, politicians can share a wedding table or stand together at a funeral. Surely, they can manage a little courtesy when they return to Parliament.

Or does political civility come with an invitation card and an expiry date?