Written by YAM Tunku Zain Al-‘Abidin ibni Tuanku Muhriz, Founding President of the Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs (IDEAS).

Amid the ongoing geopolitical disturbances, Malaysians can be thankful for the tolerance and harmony that we have built.

We’ve just seen a rare coincidence of the Christian Lent (whose date is determined by Easter, itself computed by the moon), Chinese New Year and the start of Ramadan.

The latter two will occur together again in 2027 and 2028, then Chinese New Year will coincide with Hari Raya Aidilfitri in 2029, 2030 and 2031, with varying astronomical rules causing one or two days’ difference.

From 2032, the lunisolar leap month will keep Chinese New Year in mid-February, while Hari Raya will continue cycling back through the Gregorian calendar, with 2033 expected to contain two Aidilfitris: of the Hijri years 1454 and 1455.

This realisation has caused businesses and artists to excitedly conceive “Gong Xi Ramadan” and “Gong Xi Raya” celebrations and products.

Such coincidences are an opportunity to showcase our tolerance and diversity: a favourite audiovisual treat of late is seeing Malay kompangs accompany Chinese lion dances.

Such fusion of traditions is not to everyone’s taste, particularly purists who believe that their traditions should not be “spoiled” by outside influences.

As in every civilisation in history, there are those who subscribe to the notion that only “their” traditions are valid, and any “corruption” to them is anathema.

Such advocates are usually oblivious that these very traditions are already a result of adaptation and incorporation of different histories, geographies and cultures.

(One powerful example of syncretism I recently witnessed was that of the Mughals, whose dynastic legacies and diverse populations gave rise to stunning architecture, beautiful poetry and delicious cuisine.)

Meanwhile, I take pride that Negri Sembilan has exported one now ubiquitous feature of Chinese New Year: yee sang, which was joyfully tossed after the usual display of feline-inspired acrobatics at the State open house in Seremban.

Then it was back to the kampung for the proceedings to mark the beginning of Ramadan, including the firing of the cannon and the first terawih prayers.

The fasting month is meant to be one of peace, reflection and spirituality, but of all the Ramadan I’ve lived through, this has provoked Muslims’ political identities more than any other.

Already for two years we have been praying for Palestine in the face of atrocities committed by Israel, while many try to ensure the suffering of the Rohingya are also not forgotten.

And yet, the scale of the carnage afflicting Sudan and Yemen, alleged battlegrounds for divergence between Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, continues to emerge.

Pakistan bombing Afghanistan last week provided an explicit example of Muslim-on-Muslim violence during the holy month; but all of this has been superseded by the illegal war waged by Israel and United States (barely a week after the first meeting of President Trump’s Board of Peace) against Iran, triggering a furious response and repercussions across the region.

This has revealed its own complex web of emotions.

Most Iranians I met in the United Kingdom and United States were from families who fled the 1979 Revolution, and virulently against the current regime.

Those in Malaysia (who typically came as students and expatriates in the last decade) are more mixed, ranging from ambivalence to support, and in 2022 I even opened a conference titled “Iran and the Malay World” in the presence of Iran’s Ambassador to Malaysia, referencing my trip to Teheran in 2015 where I traced Sultan Ismail Nasiruddin Shah’s state visit to the Shah of Iran.

Today, support for Reza Pahlavi seems widespread: in Munich last month, synchronised with cities all over the world, I saw thousands of protesters waving the Lion and Sun flag. But with this Israeli and US intervention, any new regime that might eventually emerge will suffer serious questions of legitimacy.

Attitudes towards the Gulf countries are polarising, too.

On social media, many label them complicit with the United States and even Israel.

That is easy for outsiders living far away from the tension to say, but they have their own unique challenges.

Achieving peace itself is precious, let alone providing prosperity and development to the extent that they have (and to the envy of much of the world).

Then there’s the more personal connections.

Like many Malaysians, I have friends and relatives who have settled in Dubai and Doha; just months ago I was playing with my cousin’s children and their cat, all of whom have had their lives disrupted by short-term fear of avoiding missiles and long-term concern about being able to continue living there.

For Muslims, these geopolitical disturbances add a layer of complexity to the solidarity we’re supposed to feel with our brothers and sisters.

But as we try to understand, we Malaysians can be thankful for the tolerance and harmony that we have built, despite disagreements over foreign policy.

This article was featured in The Start, 6 March 2026

The views expressed in this article are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views or positions of IDEAS Malaysia. All opinions are the author’s own.