Alumni fundraising dinners are essential lifelines, and any former student or parent of a current pupil will tell you that. Fundraising keeps buildings from crumbling, sustains programmes, and maintains a century-long educational legacy.

Disappointingly, PAS’ desire to score political brownie points now means these gatherings are scrutinised as if the survival of society hangs on each toast.

Even more absurd is the selective outrage. In one year, a former inspector-general of police was sitting a few tables away from mine. He and other senior civil servants had attended reunions with no fuss.

The former IGP told reporters that he was there as an “old boy”. No fuss, no frills, no protocol, no controversy, nor scandal.

Today, it is shocking that a sitting politician is able to transform a modest, joyous dinner into a moral emergency.

How dare he call the fundraising dinner a “pesta arak” with free-flowing alcohol and gambling?

Conservative politicians are probably envious that we seem happy, lively, boisterous, and having a good time. More absurd is when fundraising, in the form of a raffle, was classified as gambling.

Moral panic, while real crime goes on

The situation could almost be a satirical skit, except the authorities are treating it as serious governance. Adults quietly sharing a drink are policed as if they threaten the nation, while real crises, like stabbings, violence, bullying and gang rapes are largely unresolved.

This moral panic is being stirred not by educators, parents, or child-protection agencies. It’s engineered by politicians eager to extend their version of Islamic morality into private events, attended mostly by non-Muslims.

This is part of a broader trend with PAS’ fixation on conservative dress codes on nurses, on Malaysian Airlines stewardesses and alcohol mid-flight. The wine glasses at SMI are less of a problem than the political pot-stirring.

Priorities require recalibration. If a government is concerned about morality on campus, it should first tackle violence and bullying in schools, sexual abuse in religious/tahfiz institutions, stabbings in toilets, and mental health issues leading to a loss of hope/life.

None of these is alcohol-induced, yet they endanger children daily. The alumni dinner, by contrast, posed zero threat.

Consistency is also elusive. During school hours, children have been subjected to mock military exercises, brandishing toy guns, supposedly to teach solidarity with foreign conflicts.

Incredibly, that show of violence was acceptable.

Now, a private dinner among consenting adults is a moral calamity.

Misplaced priorities

This episode exposes a structural injustice: mission schools like SMI function despite chronic underfunding, minimal government allocations, dilapidated buildings, and shrinking programmes.

Alumni donations are critical to maintain basic standards, but when alumni attempt to support their alma mater, they are publicly chastised. Private initiative is suspect, adult responsibility is subversive, and morality must be theatrically enforced.

Meanwhile, politicians, ministers, and even the prime minister seemingly waste incredible amounts of energy policing beer glasses while society faces serious crises.

Malaysia grapples with economic stagnation, environmental degradation, societal polarisation, religious extremism, and rising living costs. And yet, a modest alumni dinner became a policy priority.

With elections looming in Sabah, minority rights, especially of non-Malays and non-Muslims, are increasingly vulnerable.

Beware, today, it is a private alumni dinner; tomorrow, school inclusivity, and civil society could be quietly eroded.

Consider, too, the ritual Hari Raya Haji korban in schools. Children witness acts that border on psychological trauma. Nobody rushes to the police about that, yet a glass of wine in the evening triggers a moral investigation.

If morality were truly the guide, priorities would look very different.

This is not leadership

The lesson is stark: when governance confuses moral panic with moral leadership, society suffers. Adults are policed unnecessarily, the real harm that students face is left unaddressed, and institutions trying to survive are publicly rebuked.

Mission schools must tread a narrow path: fundraise quietly, maintain excellence, and avoid moral scrutiny, lest they become pawns in political theatre.

Malaysia must learn to distinguish between actual threats to children and harmless adult celebrations. Focus must shift to violence in schools, systemic neglect, and the protection of minority rights.

Until that day, absurdity masquerades as governance, common sense exits the building, and moralism reigns over adults responsibly enjoying an evening.

Do raise a glass for SMI, to acknowledge its courage, reason, and priorities that actually protect the next generation.