Politics.

“Shoot first, talk later”.

As the United States prepares itself to assume a Roman position of power in world politics, it is easy to understand why global opinion is slowly turning against them. Whether this ultimately makes a difference in their stance remains to be seen. But the effects on the common man is surely setting in.

While not taking an outwardly supporting stand, Americans nevertheless seem happy to take a quiet supporting role. And who can blame them after the tragedy that happened on September 11 last year? Not supporting the current American foreign policy would seem almost like a declaration of apathy at a time when national pride was hurt on their own soil; while supporting it would mean surely sending some of their boys to their graves.

But is being part of the silent majority the answer?

In an odd and unsettling coincidence, a new turn of events within my office seems to parallel current world affairs. The library unit of my company decided to unilaterally devise a new level of red tape. They created new forms whose objective was to track how often producers were asking for tapes (seemingly last minute) within a work day. These forms do not mean that the producers would be able to retrieve the tapes, they were designed to eventually be used as documentary proof of how ineffective the producers were, and how apparently inhibitive their patterns were to the librarians’ work flow. The more they signed their names on those forms, the more they can be seen as being disorganized and unreasonable. They would be signing their own professional death warrants.

For those who have ever borrowed books from a public library, or those in broadcast who have borrowed tapes out for edits, I know what you are thinking. They are a library. And their function should be to dispense materials required by the borrowers. Without the emotional baggage of guilt, nor a feeling that every request is one asking for a favor.

So how does this new move benefit anyone?

That is not so clear.

What is clear however is that this appears to be a retaliatory move against a recent report that their staff shut their workstations down before it was time, thereby not being able to service the production teams. It appears to be a case of tit for tat. One designed to cover their own inadequacies.

This move seemed to have been made without any consensual agreement between department heads, as would have been required for any implementation of new procedures that would affect entire departments.

“Shoot first, talk later.”

It is curious to see how global tension has been shrunk to a microcosmic level.

The same dilemma applies. To support this new move would almost mean giving a stamp of approval on an action that was not given absolute sanctioning by all those affected. By extension it would also mean giving up a level of sovereignty to a department that seems to simply want to assert a sense of power and retribution. A department whose message seems to be “you hurt us, we crush you”. Sounds familiar?

To vocalize any protest could lead to other repercussions.

So what do you do? The same question applies. Do you keep keep quiet and hope things will somehow get better?

There is no magical answer that can be a benefit absolutely everyone. Even on a global perspective, any direction will not yield a total win-win outcome.

Perhaps the only answer is to take it to a very personal level.

In a post dinner mooncake and Maxim’s de Paris session tonight, I was reminded of something.

Flashback.

A room. Basic. Hot. Humid. Baptist hymns blasting on cheap speakers. Standing outside one’s body looking in. A few meters ahead, a white coffin. Just a few steps. With every one heavier than the last. Fearing what will be seen. Reaching the edge, peering down, there is a coldness. Like a slumber that will never end. The purity has been returned to the Maker. And a divide is created. Where once two souls shared one life, only one is left behind to continue the journey.

What became blindingly clear at that moment, is that there is no permanence in this life. For all the joy and sadness, love and hate, nothing will remain and all that will be left is alone-ness.

That recognition truly humbles. And it puts you outside of yourself. And you realize that the only one that you need to decide for is yourself. The decisions you make should hopefully allow you to carry on until you too are returned.

Present.

Any decision or action made, for whatever reason used to justify them, will come to pass.

The United States may go on its manhunts and personifying of human ills, and the library in my company may carry on assuming the position of the victim while implementing strategies that will gain them power over the people they were meant to service.

But when you think about it, whether on a macro or micro level, some people will continue to further their imperfections through their choices.
People will live, die and move on. With their past as their blueprint for their Maker’s final judgment.

For my micro situation, I will set my own blueprint and choose not to respond to what is happening. I believe that by abstaining from following the new procedures may, in an extreme scenario cost me my job. But it will save me my dignity and self worth, something that is a birth right and cannot be measured in externalities and money. If that sounds magnanimous, it isn’t. It is hard to stand up for what you believe in, especially when people will challenge such a decision for their own reasons. But when your time comes, you need to be able to meet your Maker and say, I have not wasted Your efforts and work on me. I lived the best life I could have made for myself in the time You gave me. I lived on principle and faith. And every morning, I can look at myself in the mirror and believe that I have not compromised the values I innately know come from You.

Perhaps this is something World leaders and others engaged in human politics will think about before they embark on anything that affects others. Making small positive personal decisions, perhaps things will be better for it.

End.

Death.

Silence.

Its a nice concept. One that sometimes eludes me.

This year, all I have been hearing is noise. Mainly screaming, from inside and out. Mainly due to things I couldn¹t foresee. Couldn't control.

Tonight. Something happened. Trivial. Possibly unworthy of attention under other circumstances.

But despite friends trying valiantly to help me get into the weekend mode, the silence I seek now is still elusive.

Office politics have risen again. Something I ran away from so many times before. The true murderer of any creative person's soul. Something bureaucrats usually fail to understand.

My response to tonight was less than stellar. For the cut has gone deeper that it really deserves. In a situation that could be at best seen as the product of small mindedness, my reaction was the product of nearly three years of consistent battering.

The source of these politics come from one place that has, since I stepped into my current position, sought to make my professional life one of forcedhumility and shame.

One of their members made it clear that I am not the religious ideal that he felt would justify any acknowledgement of my existence as a spiritual being. I am not the perfect virtuous learned Muslim that he and his mates felt they were. So right up front, he made sure I understood I am very low on the hierarchy of enlightenment. That I was not a good Muslim.

He judged me. And he used that to shame me every time I had to approach him on work matters. It made me feel disgusted that some Muslims could be so self righteous and so conceited. In an American organization, I would have
thought that is simply not kosher.

Other occasions, my so called lifestyle came under fire. A lifestyle they could only assess based on what they thought they knew, as opposed to what is reality. Their opinions were summarized by one single Malay expression, which they didn't bank of me hearing, that was used by one of their mates.

Translated, the word was: Dirty.

Early this year, my family suffered a personal tragedy. We took steps to make sure only those who needed to know would know. The pain and the suffering needn't be extended or exploited.

Through ways that we couldn't foresee, this same group of people who has made it their business to know everything that has happened to everyone, found out.

And word spread to others.

Something I so desperately wanted to keep private got leaked and used as gossip.

I never tried to keep my life a secret before. But this was a family affair. And that wasn¹t even respected.

When I got back to the office, they wanted details. Even though I said I didn't want to talk about it. The unit head kept pushing. Regardless of how cracked I looked.

The screams in my head got louder. For even though the things these people were doing were offensive on a personal level, their impact obviously collided with the professional.

To this day they have also made it their job to check on the performance of others. In spite of the fact that if this was ANY other company, their primary duty would be to support the production teams without question, a value I heard was upheld when one of the American bosses was still around. Now, things have changed. And they have made people like me suffer for their change in work environment.

Where do you draw the line. Between work and play. Between acceptance and tolerance. When do you say, enough is enough.

A friend said to rise above it all. I tried. But after nearly three years of hearing their whining and being the brunt of their jokes, I realize why my head is filled with those screams.

I have been discriminated. And abused. And I have had my privacy invaded.

I am not being over dramatic. I am troubled, and I am hurt. And I know what has happened tonight will not yield any good for they will personify the problem with one name: mine. The classic weapon of office politics.

Can I do anything about it. No. For even though you can endeavor to assert change in policies and procedures, it would take a lot more to change a person's heart.

From where I stand now, this constant screaming will not go away. For I have yet to find a way to understand how people can be so cruel, and so methodological in they way the trap others for the sake of power.

But there is always a choice.

Always.

And perhaps the screams can go away. And silence will return.