Forgiveness, and a mum's prayer: Lessons from Syed Saddiq

Borneo Post

3 days ago

Syed Saddiq receiving a warm hug from his mother after his court sentencing – a quiet moment of love, grace and resilience. — Malay Mail photo
LAST week, in the midst of headlines on the acquittal of Muar MP Syed Saddiq Syed Abdul Rahman of four charges of criminal breach of trust, misappropriation of property and money-laundering linked to RM1.12 million of Bersatu Youth funds in a unanimous decision of the Court of Appeal, it was not a political speech, but a mother's words, that stood out most.
'To those who wronged my son, I pray that Allah grants them guidance. Life is temporary – it's not forever. Let us not harm others, because the consequences are not only in the hereafter, but may also come in this world… I choose to forgive those who have wronged my son.'
It wasn't a spectacle of blame or self-importance.
Instead, there was a quiet, undeniable grace, which was pure and powerful.
Forget the saying about 'behind every great man'.
What we witnessed was a unified strength: a mother, whose quiet dignity was born of resilience; and a son, who mirrored that strength with his own humility.
What a perfect picture of 'mother and son'!
When Syed Saddiq's decision to step down from MUDA's presidency after his sentencing was startlingly rare, it was not the action of a man defeated, but one who still believed in accountability.
It wasn't the first time that he did what many older leaders refused to – take responsibility.
And that, perhaps, is the difference when politics is rooted in values, not just calculations.
After fighting the battle for seven long years, the win did not bring about angry rebuttal.
No blaming the system or shouting conspiracy; instead, we heard from a young leader who showed more maturity than many twice his age.
'I bear no grudges,' he said – that line alone is loud enough to quieten the cynics.
But what moved me most was not just Syed Saddiq's own words — it was his mother's.
Her statement came from faith, endurance and motherhood.
'I pray that Allah grants them guidance,' she said, and then: 'I choose to forgive.'
If there is anything more powerful than forgiveness in the face of injustice, I have yet to see it.
It's easy to dismiss such remarks as mere religious platitudes, but it takes strength to forgive those who have wronged your child.
She stood by him through public trial for seven long, heartbreaking years.
This demonstrates that Syed Saddiq did not just grow up with political ambition.
He grew up with a moral compass – and we now know where that came from.
Malaysia is desperately short of leaders who can inspire hope, and lose with grace.
Isn't this a reminder to us what those in public service should look like?
Syed Saddiq, for all his youthful fire and sometimes naive optimism, has consistently shown the courage to be different.
From standing up in Parliament for reforms to standing down when the time came — he chose to act, not react.
At a time when some court-bound leaders cried political persecution while waving party flags, Syed Saddiq offered instead a quiet withdrawal.
There were no mobs. No threats.
Just a young man, clearly wounded, but still willing to walk away for the greater good.
It was personal integrity.
And that's something money cannot buy, and neither can years of political grooming guarantee.
As we head into increasingly uncertain political times, I wonder – are we, as Malaysians, ready to embrace this kind of leadership?
One rooted not in vengeance or patronage, but in accountability, in faith, and in forgiveness?
Will we reward those who walk away when they must, or only applaud those who fight tooth and nail, no matter the cost to the nation?
We often say that we want young leaders. But do we really want the maturity they bring – when it's not flashy or loud, but quiet and firm?
I hope we do, because if we don't learn to appreciate this now, we risk losing the very kind of leadership that we've been crying out for all these years.
Syed Saddiq may or may not return to the political frontline. That's for time to tell.
But what he and his mother have shown Malaysia last week is far more enduring than any seat in Parliament.
They've shown us that sometimes, the strongest legacy we can leave behind is not victory, but grace.