A stroll around the sleepy town of Kota Bharu, Kelantan with its subdued persona might give the impression of a typical Malaysian capital, away from the chaos of Kuala Lumpur. It feels like any other city – Ipoh, Kuantan, or Seremban – sheltered from the hustle of the big city. Spoiled with tranquillity and a slower pace of life.
But a closer look reveals how the capital of the east coast state is distinctively different from the cities mentioned. So different, in fact, that scepticism often clouds perceptions of this city, which has proudly called itself an Islamic city since 2005.
With Islam as the religion of the Federation as stated in Article 3 of the Federal Constitution, Malaysians are familiar with the tenets of Islamic values. Yet, as a secular nation with the right to practise any religion, many find Kelantan’s brand of Islamic enforcement and strict state laws a little too overbearing.
Jokes about the city and state are rampant – one of the more common ones pokes fun at the moniker ‘Serambi Mekah’ or the Porch of Mecca, questioning its sanctity given the notorious antics of some Kelantanese when away from home.
While not necessarily backed by data, such jokes have long dominated both online and offline conversations, fuelling an unspoken stigma about Kelantanese.
Discriminatory? Absolutely. But, in typical Kelantanese fashion, most remain nonchalant.
Still, the barbed commentary from those who view Kelantan as a deviation from Malaysian norms can sometimes feel deliberate, even wilful – simply because of the state’s ‘different’ way of doing things.
And no matter how unbothered they appear, the people of Kelantan probably can’t ignore that their political choices have played a big part in how things are.
Kelantan has been ruled by Parti Islam Se-Malaysia (Pas) from 1959 to 1977, and again from 1990 to the present day. The state government’s long-standing opposition status has indirectly affected the level of support it receives from the Federal Government.
Despite bureaucratic challenges, Pas remains largely unchallenged. Its leaders appear unfazed by political threats from rivals, perhaps buoyed by the unwavering support of their base – and vice versa.
Among liberals, particularly those in the Klang Valley, the perception is that Kelantan voters are backward, conservative, and rigid.
This frustration intensifies when Pas leaders use their platform not for progress, but to peddle extreme religious views which, when presented at a national level, often sound divisive and out of step with Malaysia’s multicultural reality.
“Contrary to popular belief, we do want change. It’s not just national issues – we’re grappling with problems right at home. One of them, which has become a joke, is the condition of our water,” said a Kota Bharu local.
“We have to install filters in our yards just to get clean water. We pay out of pocket. Why should we bear the cost for something as basic as clean water? The state government has ignored this issue for far too long and has betrayed the rakyat’s trust,” he added.
A recent statement by Pas president Tan Sri Abdul Hadi Awang during the Ayer Kuning by-election campaign caused a stir: “It is more important for Muslims to vote in elections than to perform the haj or umrah.”
Unsurprisingly, this drew backlash from various quarters who condemned the statement as unscrupulous and a distortion of Islamic values.
Hadi, a seasoned politician and Marang MP, does not inspire the same respect or reverence as the late Tan Sri Nik Abdul Aziz Nik Mat, who led the party for over two decades.
“The younger generation wants change. Most of us, anyway. The state is in dire need of better policies. If it were governed based on genuine Syariah principles, it might work – but leaders are flawed, and religion is often used for political convenience rather than to truly serve the people,” said another Kota Bharu native.
“Kelantan has so much potential, but religious guilt is constantly weaponised during elections to make voters feel that Pas is the only Islamic choice, while real issues are ignored,” said another youth.
“The respected Mursyidul Am (Nik Aziz) is no longer with us. His successors don’t come close in terms of calibre, foresight, or progressive thinking.”
Young Kelantanese who yearn for reform believe it’s time to give space to leaders who truly prioritise the people and the state.
“To move forward, we must honour the legacy of Tok Guru (Nik Aziz) – but not romanticise the current party, because it no longer embodies his ideals,” said one young local.
As for the mockery that Kelantanese often receive for their voting patterns, many youths believe they are capable of change, armed with a strong sense of identity to navigate a new direction.
They highlight their much-maligned assabiyyah – a form of community solidarity – as something to be respected, not ridiculed. Rather than mocking it, perhaps cynics could learn a thing or two from this idea of social unity, instead of blindly embracing hyper-individualism.
The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the writer and do not necessarily represent that of Twentytwo13.
