Traveling toward Kuala Lumpur, the pall is oppressive, and one notes the increasing frequency with which curiosity blends toward suspicion. There is a certain squinting and shiftiness of the eye which gives a signal that all is not well within. These are eyes that see, but are blind. These are ears that hear, but are deaf.

"Do you know of the incident at Y?"

"No, I didn't see anything."

"But you must have heard the gunfire?"

"I didn't hear anything."

"But you live right here, and the incident lasted five days. There was gunfire every day."

"I didn't see anything. I didn't hear anything."

After a repetition of this same conversation numerous times, one concludes there is a broad zone of blindness, a zone of total deafness, in all of the southern states of peninsular Malaysia.

How does this peculiar phenomenon occur? It appears not to be a physical handicap, as though some genetic mutation has taken place. It seems to be psychological, the result of years of conditioning.

In many cases it appears to be a survival technique. It is not taught in the schools. It is not available in textbooks, nor even in the newspapers. It seems that it is cultural, a response that is adopted over a long period of time; some type of retrograde adaptation.

But what are the cues? What are the small hints which produce this un-natural diminution of the human senses? Children do not seem to suffer from it, so it begins sometime later, perhaps when the realities of life begin to become apparent. Traveling about, over any period of time, one becomes so accustomed to it, that, although it is clearly an aberration, it takes on a tone of custom.

In many ways it gives the appearance of a "dumbing down," so that mental weakness is suspected. The absence of any reaction to observed injustices is remarkable. Cruelty to others is accepted without a flinch, without a tear. From a distance it is possible to observe criminal behaviour in progress which is ignored by a flotsam of blind witnesses. There is a total inability to provide aid, as though to touch is to be entrapped.

One sees a policeman who cannot see the speeder, who cannot see the reckless driver, who cannot hear the loud engine of the bus, nor see the smoke so thick the roads are impassable from its spew.

Yet they say the strangest things. In the strangest places. In a recent trial, a policeman under oath, a good and true Muslim, when asked if he would lie, replied, "I might or I might not, depending on who asked me to." The judge found his subsequent testimony credible. The three appeal judges confirmed the opinion of the trial judge.

Yet it was on the testimony of this one man, who impugned his own credibility, stating clearly before everyone present that he was capable of perjuring himself, that the defendant was sentenced to a long prison term. The prosecutor heard the statement. All present in the courtroom heard the statement, and it was widely printed in the newspapers.

It was as though all saw, all heard, yet all were blind and deaf. The prosecutor, the trial judge, the three appeal judges, and most incredible of all, the readers of the newspapers.

Another witness, when asked if a crime had been committed in which he was a victim, replied, "No, there was no crime." He repeated this statement clearly for all to hear. The judge heard it, because he wrote it into the transcript. The prosecutors heard it. Those present in the courtroom heard it, and the reporters present printed it in their newspapers verbatim. Yet the three appeal judges did not hear, did not see, could not read this testimony. The defendant was convicted of the crime that never happened, and the conviction was upheld by the three blind appeal judges. The man languishes in prison, in solitary confinement, to this very day.

How does one explain this loss of the senses? Did it happen suddenly, as though by a poison gas in the air? Or was it a gradual thing, a change that occurred so slowly that all were silently transformed over time? Perhaps it was taught by example. Perhaps it was a reaction to an external threat from the chosen leaders?

Whatever its cause, it is endemic, affecting almost all over the age of thirty, and many much younger. The effect it produces on the observer is one of deep sadness. It is as though the soul has been numbed. The spiritual life, while adorned with constant ritual, is empty of meaning. Life in such a state is robotic, unfeeling, balanced on edge between sleep and numbness.

Such is case of the slave, whose every thought and act are observed for any trace of independence or mutiny. Total subservience is required, and gratitude demanded for every bowl of rice.

But yet these are not slaves. They smile. They laugh. But they do not see. They do not hear. And they are willing to lie. Are these the creatures made by Allah? No. They are the shells of once-humans made meek by despotism, enforced by the powers of the police. They are the victims of a mass soul-murder carried out by criminals posing as political leaders. Like zombies, they see; they hear, but they dare not speak, from fear the menace that watches will reproach, will take vengeance, perhaps arrest and imprison.

So they do not see others being carried away. They do not hear the cries of those beaten and gassed. They do not notice killings by uniformed thugs. They do not hear truth when it is spoken. They have grown accustomed to the authorised lie, and do not use logic or reason to unravel the sandiwara and the malicious prosecution.

All pretend they do not see, and do not hear, and this provides protection from any conscious knowing. Thus there is no responsibility. Thus there is no duty. They need not interfere. Why take the risk? Let the arrests continue. Let the killings go. Better not to object. Don't file a report. If you do, they will arrest you. Better to be blind. Better to be deaf.