A PhD Is Not Just About Reading More Papers: How We Actually Build Research Skills

 

Nobody Really Teaches Us How to Become a Researcher

When we start a PhD, the journey looks quite simple from the outside. Choose a topic, read, collect data, write the thesis, defend it, then graduate. Once we are inside the system, we realise it is not that straightforward.

There is no proper weekly syllabus telling us what to do next. We may have a supervisor, university guidelines, research milestones and postgraduate workshops, but much of the journey still depends on us.

At the same time, the familiar questions keep coming. “Dah Chapter berapa?” “Data dah collect?” “Bila nak viva?” “Paper dah publish?”

Sometimes I think Malaysian PhD students deserve another qualification just for answering these questions politely.

But the real purpose of a PhD is not only to complete a thesis. I also need to become better at doing research. That is a different challenge altogether.

Reading Is Important, but Research Skills Come From Doing

One lesson I keep coming back to is this. I cannot learn research only by reading about research.

Of course, reading is essential. I need to understand the literature, theory, methods and debates in my field. But eventually, I have to stop highlighting papers and actually do something.

It is like learning to make roti canai. I can watch 50 videos, read about the technique and understand the ingredients, but eventually my hand still has to touch the dough.

The same applies to research.

If I plan to conduct interviews, I should practise interviewing someone. If I am doing qualitative analysis, I should try coding a short transcript. If I plan to use statistics, I should work with a small dataset first.

Research becomes clearer when I start using the tools, not only reading about them.

Start Small Before Going Big

PhD students often want everything to look “PhD standard” from the beginning. The research question must be perfect. The conceptual framework must look impressive. The questionnaire must be complete. Chapter 1 must sound like it belongs in a journal.

Sometimes the conceptual framework has so many boxes and arrows that I need another framework just to understand the framework.

I have learned that the first version does not have to be impressive. It only needs to teach me something.

If I need 30 interviews, I can first practise with one person. If I need hundreds of survey responses, I can test the questions with a small group. If I need to present my research to a panel, I can first explain it to a friend.

A small attempt gives me room to make mistakes while the mistakes are still cheap.

It is much better to discover that an interview question is confusing after talking to one person than after completing 25 interviews.

It Is Fine to Say “I Don’t Know”

This is probably one of the hardest adjustments in a PhD.

For most of our education, being a good student means knowing the correct answer. Exams reward us for knowing. Assignments reward us for knowing. Good grades tell us that we know enough.

Then we enter a PhD, where the whole point is to investigate something because the answer is not completely clear.

That can feel strange.

Sometimes during a supervisor meeting, I may understand about 60 per cent of the discussion, but my face is showing 97 per cent confidence.

I think many PhD students know that feeling.

There is nothing wrong with saying, “I don’t understand this yet,” or “Can you explain what you mean?” It is also fine to admit, “I tried this, but it did not work.”

Research is not about pretending to know everything. It is about becoming comfortable with what I do not know and then doing something about it.

Difficult Problems Are Part of the Training

Another habit I have noticed is how easy it is to become “busy” when the real work becomes difficult.

I may be struggling with methodology. Suddenly, organising my Mendeley folders feels very important. Then I check email. Then I rename some files. Maybe I update the Gantt chart.

By the end of the day, I have done many things.

Except solve the original problem.

The difficult part of research is often where the learning happens.

If my analysis does not make sense, I need to understand why. If my theory does not fit properly, I need to examine it. If my research question is too broad, I need to work on it.

Sometimes progress means staying with one uncomfortable problem instead of escaping to five easier tasks.

That is not always fun, but it is often where research skills grow.

Working Fast Is Not the Same as Working Well

There is always pressure in a PhD. We have deadlines, proposal defence, progress reports, publication requirements, supervisor comments and university timelines.

So naturally, we want to move quickly.

But research contains many small details, and small mistakes can become expensive later.

One wrong variable. One badly written interview question. One missing citation. One wrong version of a dataset.

Then, two months later, I am staring at the screen thinking, “Eh, why is this result like this?”

Working carefully does not mean becoming a perfectionist.

I do not need to spend three days polishing one paragraph because I am afraid to move on. It simply means giving proper attention to the work in front of me.

When I collect data, I should collect it properly. When I analyse, I should understand what I am doing. When I cite something, I should make sure the source really supports what I am saying.

Careful work moves forward. Perfectionism often keeps us standing in the same place.

My Brain Is Part of the Research Equipment

PhD students are usually very careful with their research materials.

We back up the thesis. We save copies in Google Drive. We keep several versions of important files. Some of us probably have “Chapter 4 Final”, “Chapter 4 Final New”, and “Chapter 4 Final Really Final” sitting in the same folder.

But sometimes we forget to take care of the most important research equipment we have.

Our brain.

It is difficult to solve complicated research problems when I am constantly tired, distracted and mentally overloaded.

Rest is not separate from research. Thinking is part of research too.

Sometimes the answer to a problem does not appear while I am staring at Microsoft Word. It may come while I am walking around campus, driving home, sitting quietly after a meeting or having a teh tarik.

The brain sometimes needs space.

Life Outside the PhD Still Matters

A PhD can slowly take over everything if I allow it.

There will always be another paper to read, another chapter to improve, another comment to answer and another deadline waiting.

But I still need sleep. I still need exercise. I still need family and friends. I still need conversations that have absolutely nothing to do with theoretical frameworks.

Having a life outside the PhD does not mean I am less serious.

In fact, I think it helps me stay useful as a researcher for longer.

Being permanently exhausted is not proof of dedication. Sometimes it is simply proof that something in the way I work needs to change.

Research Skills Grow Quietly

I used to think becoming a good researcher would happen at some major moment.

Maybe after publishing a paper. Maybe after finishing data collection. Maybe after passing the viva.

Now I think it happens much more quietly.

One better interview.

One clearer paragraph.

One research problem finally understood.

One mistake I know how to avoid next time.

One supervisor comment that suddenly makes sense.

One moment when I realise I can explain my research without looking at my slides.

The improvement is often small, but over time it adds up.

The PhD Is Also About Who I Become

The thesis is important. Of course it is.

But the final thesis is not the only thing produced by a PhD.

The process is also supposed to produce a better researcher.

Someone who can ask better questions. Someone who can investigate carefully, analyse evidence, explain ideas clearly and stay calm when the answer is not obvious.

Someone who can make mistakes, learn and try again.

So perhaps I do not need to keep asking myself, “Am I good enough to be a PhD researcher?”

A better question may be:

“Am I becoming a slightly better researcher than I was six months ago?”

If the answer is yes, even a little, then I think the PhD is already doing part of its job.

What Is Truth? My Thoughts After Watching Firas Zahabi on Blogging Theology Youtube Channel

 

A Simple Question That Is Actually Not So Simple

We use the word “truth” almost every day. We say things like, “This is true,” “That is fake news,” “Science has proven it,” “I saw it on TikTok,” “Someone forwarded it in WhatsApp,” or “The doctor said so.” But one thing I realised after watching this long discussion between Firas Zahabi and Paul Williams from Blogging Theology is that we rarely stop and ask a more basic question, how do we actually know that something is true? At first, I expected the video to be very heavy because once people start talking about philosophy, logic, epistemology, consciousness and all that, it can easily become difficult to follow. Surprisingly, Zahabi explains many of his ideas using very simple examples, things like a square, a flamingo, frogs, the sun, a robot, pain, consciousness and finally the Qur’an. As the discussion goes on, you begin to realise that he is not only asking whether something is true or false. He is asking something much deeper, what kind of knowledge do we have, how certain are we, and what makes us trust one thing more than another?

This question is very relevant today. We live in a time where information comes non-stop. TikTok, YouTube, Facebook, X, WhatsApp, podcasts, AI, politicians, doctors, researchers, influencers and religious speakers are all giving us information. Even our family WhatsApp groups can become like mini newsrooms. The problem is that everybody sounds confident. But confidence is not the same as truth. Someone can speak loudly, use complicated words and still be completely wrong. That is probably the first important lesson I took from this discussion.

The Square Circle, Some Things Are Impossible Even Before We Check

One of the first examples Zahabi gives is quite funny. He tells Paul that he has drawn a square circle on the other side of his hand. Not a square next to a circle, but one single shape that is fully square and fully circle at the same time. Paul immediately says that is impossible, even though he has not seen the drawing. Why? Because once you understand what a square is and what a circle is, the idea itself contradicts itself. A square has straight sides and corners, while a circle does not. Zahabi also gives another example, a married bachelor. Again, we do not need to survey every bachelor in the world. The word bachelor already means an unmarried man, so “married bachelor” does not make sense. This is his way of introducing analytical truth and the law of non-contradiction.

This sounds like a very basic lesson, but honestly, it is useful in real life. Sometimes people argue about things that are not really disagreements at all, but confusion in the way words are used. If I say, “I love durian,” and you say, “I hate durian,” both statements can be true because we are talking about personal taste. But if someone says, “This shop is open now and this same shop is not open now,” then something is wrong unless he explains what he means. Simple logic helps us see when an argument is not clear. It also teaches us not to be impressed too quickly by complicated language. Sometimes a very fancy argument falls apart when you ask one simple question, does this even make sense?

The Flamingo, Some Things Can Only Be Known by Looking

Then Zahabi changes the example. He says, what if he tells Paul, “I drew a flamingo on my hand”? This time Paul cannot immediately say it is impossible. Maybe he did draw it, maybe he did not. There is nothing logically impossible about a flamingo drawing. The only way to know is to look. Zahabi uses this to show that some knowledge comes from observation. He then uses frogs as another example. Imagine scientists observe 1,000 frogs and every frog can swim. Can they now say, “All frogs can swim”? Maybe, but what if somewhere in a forest in Malaysia, Borneo or another part of the world there is one strange species nobody has studied yet? You can observe 10,000 frogs, then 100,000 frogs, and your confidence becomes stronger, but one unusual frog could still prove the general statement wrong. This is the basic idea of inductive reasoning, where we move from what we observe to a wider conclusion.

We use this kind of thinking every day. Your car started yesterday, so you expect it to start tomorrow. Your favourite mamak usually opens early, so you expect it to be open again tomorrow morning. The sun has risen every day of your life, so you expect it to rise tomorrow too. This is not mathematical certainty, but it is a very strong expectation based on repeated experience. Philosophers have discussed this for centuries, especially David Hume and the famous problem of induction. The basic question is simple, why should the future continue behaving like the past just because it has done so many times before?

Science Is Strong, But It Is Not the Same as Mathematics

This part really made me think. Zahabi describes science in a very provocative way. He says science depends on our expectation that the future will behave like the past. At first, that sounds like he is trying to weaken science, but I do not think that is the best way to understand his point. Science is not simply “belief” with no evidence. Science has experiments, measurements, statistics, testing, peer review, replication and correction. But his main point is still useful, scientific knowledge is not exactly the same kind of certainty as mathematics or logic.

In fact, one of the strengths of science is that it can correct itself. Sometimes people say, “Scientists changed their mind, so science cannot be trusted.” But think about it. Would you rather have scientists who refuse to change even when new evidence appears? Imagine your doctor saying, “I learned this treatment in 1995 and I refuse to read anything published after that.” Most of us would immediately look for another doctor. Good science changes when better evidence appears. That is not failure, that is improvement. This is especially important during difficult times, such as a health scare, a pandemic, financial crisis or family problem. When people are frightened, we want very certain answers. Then someone appears on YouTube or TikTok saying, “I know the real truth.” The confidence feels comforting. But sometimes the more responsible answer is simply, “Based on what we know now, this is the most likely explanation.”

History, WhatsApp and the Problem of “My Friend Said”

The discussion then moves into history. This part is also very relevant to us because historical knowledge works differently from laboratory science. We cannot replay the past. We cannot bring Napoleon back, repeat the assassination of JFK or travel 2,000 years into the past with a camera. Historians have to work with documents, eyewitness reports, physical evidence, archaeology, letters and surviving records. Zahabi uses examples like JFK and 9/11 to show how people can look at the same event and still disagree about exactly what happened.

I think Zahabi sometimes goes too far when he makes historical knowledge sound almost useless. History is not simply gossip. Professional historians have proper methods for checking sources, comparing documents and deciding which evidence is stronger. But his main warning is still important, just because many people repeat a story does not make it true. Malaysians know this very well. We have all seen WhatsApp messages beginning with something like, “Please share, my cousin’s friend works in a ministry…” Five minutes later the message is everywhere, and suddenly people treat it like official news. Today the problem is even worse because we now have deepfakes, AI images, cloned voices and fake screenshots. So perhaps one habit we really need today is to ask, where did this information actually come from?

Paul 2.0, This Is Where the Discussion Becomes Very Modern

One of my favourite parts of the whole conversation is when Zahabi introduces a robot called Paul 2.0. Imagine a robot watching the real Paul every day. Paul wakes up and drinks coffee, so the robot learns, “Morning means coffee.” When it rains, Paul takes an umbrella, so the robot learns, “Rain means umbrella.” Over time, Paul 2.0 becomes extremely good at copying Paul’s behaviour. Then Zahabi makes the example more extreme. Imagine a tiny machine entering Paul’s brain and recording everything, neurons firing, blood flow, physical reactions and every measurable process. Paul 2.0 receives all this information. But Zahabi asks a very interesting question, does the robot know what it feels like to be Paul?

The robot may know that Paul’s brain changes when he drinks coffee, but does it actually taste the coffee? It may know which part of the brain becomes active when Paul feels sad, but does it experience sadness? It may measure pain signals, but does it actually feel pain? Zahabi argues that information about consciousness is not necessarily the same as experiencing consciousness. This discussion feels even more relevant now because of AI. A chatbot can say, “I understand how painful that must be.” Future robots may laugh, write poetry and respond to emotions perfectly. But does behaving like a conscious being prove that it really has an inner experience? Philosophers still debate this because first-person experience is different from simply observing a person from the outside.

Pain, Feelings and One Very Useful Lesson for Daily Life

From there, Zahabi moves into the idea of direct experience. Imagine walking barefoot at home in the dark and suddenly your small toe hits the leg of the sofa. At that moment, do you need a scientist to prove that you are in pain? Of course not. You know you are in pain because you experience it directly. The same goes for sadness, fear, loneliness and happiness. Nobody needs to mathematically prove your feeling to you. But this part gave me another useful lesson, our experience and our interpretation are not the same thing.

For example, someone at work walks past you without saying hello. You feel hurt. That feeling is real. Then your mind immediately says, “She ignored me because she does not like me.” Now you have moved from experience to interpretation. Maybe she really is upset with you, but maybe she did not see you, maybe she was worried about something, maybe she had a terrible morning. This sounds simple, but honestly, many of our problems come from treating an interpretation like a proven fact. The same thing can happen with health. A doctor orders another test, and your mind immediately says, “It must be something serious.” But what do you actually know? You know another test was ordered. Everything after that may be fear filling in the blanks. This is where philosophy suddenly becomes very practical. It can help us separate what happened, what we feel, and what we are assuming.

Fitrah, The Point Where Zahabi Brings Everything Back to Islam

This is where Zahabi brings in the Islamic idea of fitrah, the natural disposition with which human beings are created. The Qur’an speaks about fitrah in Surah al-Rum 30:30. Zahabi’s argument is that we do not begin life like totally empty machines. Human beings already have awareness, consciousness and an ability to recognise and experience reality. He connects this to our awareness of God. In his view, the Qur’an is not only giving information to someone who knows absolutely nothing. It is also acting as a reminder.

I find this idea quite beautiful. The Qur’an often tells us to look, think, reflect and notice. Look at the world. Look at nature. Look at yourself. Look at how life works. Surah adh-Dhariyat 51:20 to 21 points to signs on the earth and also within ourselves. That fits Zahabi’s whole argument. The search for truth does not only go outward, into laboratories, telescopes and books. It also goes inward. What am I? Why am I conscious? Why can I reason? Why do I care about truth at all? Why do human beings search for meaning? These are questions that science can study from certain angles, but they also lead into philosophy and religion.

Does This Mean We Should Stop Using Logic and Science? No

This part is very important because Zahabi can easily be misunderstood. He is not telling Muslims to reject science, philosophy or reason. In fact, his whole discussion uses Aristotle, Hume, Locke, Berkeley, Kant, al-Ghazali, mathematics, logic, science and thought experiments. His point is that human reason is powerful but limited. Very intelligent people can still disagree. Scientists disagree. Historians disagree. Religious scholars disagree. Academics disagree. That does not mean truth does not exist. It simply means intelligence does not make anyone perfect.

This is especially relevant now because Google and AI can make us feel intelligent very quickly. Five minutes on Google and suddenly we are doctors. Three YouTube videos and we become historians. One TikTok thread and we become experts in international politics. We need confidence, but we also need humility. Sometimes the smartest thing we can say is, “I am not sure, let me check.” Near the end of the discussion, Zahabi himself says Muslims should not reject logic, reason or science and that Muslims need to raise their level of understanding. That is actually one of the strongest parts of his message.

Gravity, Medicine and Allah, Do We Really Have to Choose One?

Zahabi also talks about gravity and the laws of nature. This section can sound strange if taken too literally. His philosophical point is that humans observe regular patterns and then give those patterns names. But this should not be misunderstood as saying gravity is fake or scientific explanations are useless. If you jump from the third floor, please do not tell the hospital that gravity is only a philosophical concept.

A better way to understand this is that science explains how things normally happen, while religion asks deeper questions about ultimate dependence and meaning. If a doctor gives you antibiotics and you recover, you can say, “The medicine helped me,” while still believing, “Allah allowed me to recover.” Those two statements do not necessarily cancel each other. One explains the mechanism, the other speaks about ultimate dependence. Zahabi connects this discussion to al-Ghazali and the old philosophical debate about causation. Al-Ghazali famously questioned whether repeatedly observing one thing followed by another proves that the connection between them is absolutely necessary.

Why This Matters Most When Life Is Hard

For me, this is where the whole discussion becomes much more than philosophy. When life is going well, we rarely think deeply about certainty. But when something goes wrong, everything changes. A medical test comes back abnormal. Someone you love becomes sick. You lose your job. Your child struggles. A marriage becomes difficult. Money gets tight. Someone betrays you. Suddenly your mind wants an answer immediately. Why did this happen? What will happen next? Is everything going to be okay?

Sometimes we simply do not know yet. And maybe one thing we need to learn is how to live honestly with that. There are things we know. There are things we strongly expect. There are things we suspect. There are things we fear. There are things we hope for. And there are things we simply do not know. Those are not the same categories. If we mix them together, anxiety can become much worse. We start turning possibilities into facts. “The doctor wants another scan, so it must be something terrible.” “My boss wants to see me, so I must be getting fired.” “My child is quiet today, so something bad must have happened.” Sometimes we need to stop and say, what do I actually know right now? That one question can bring a lot of calm.

We Have More Information Than Ever, But Are We Wiser?

This part really stayed with me after the video. A school student in Malaysia with one smartphone can access books, lectures, maps, scientific papers, documentaries and information that kings and scholars of the past could never imagine having so easily. Yet somehow, we are still confused. Sometimes we may even be more confused. The problem today is no longer simply, “Where can I find information?” The bigger problem is, “Which information deserves my trust?”

That is why “What is truth?” is not just an old philosophy question. It is a very modern question. When AI gives you an answer, ask how reliable the source is. When a viral video appears, ask where it came from. When a preacher makes a strong claim, ask what evidence supports it. When someone gives a statistic, ask how it was measured. When somebody tells you a historical story, ask what sources exist. And when your own mind says, “My life is finished, nothing will ever improve,” ask whether that is really a fact or simply how you feel at that moment.

The Part I Like Most, Learn to Ask “How Do I Know?”

The biggest value of Zahabi’s discussion, for me, is not any single argument about science, philosophy, AI or even theology. It is the habit behind the whole discussion. Stop and examine how you know what you think you know. That habit makes us harder to manipulate. It can make us better students, better researchers, better Muslims, better parents and hopefully less annoying in WhatsApp groups.

It can also change the way we read the Qur’an. Instead of only asking, “How many pages did I read today?” maybe sometimes we should ask, “What is this verse asking me to notice?” Is it asking me to look at nature? To think about myself? To challenge my ego? To question my assumptions? To recognise my dependence on Allah? Zahabi says near the end that knowledge begins with direct experience and that the Qur’an should not be approached like a robot processing information mechanically. I may not agree with every single philosophical claim he makes, and I think some of his statements about history, gravity or science can be debated, but that actually makes the conversation more interesting. The point is not to repeat Zahabi. The point is to think with him, and sometimes also to question him.

So, What Is Truth?

After more than two hours of discussion, Zahabi does not really give a simple dictionary answer. Instead, he takes us on a journey. We begin with logical truths, things that cannot contradict themselves. Then we move to observation and induction. From there we get science. From surviving evidence we build history. Then we reach consciousness and realise that even after studying everything outside us, there is still the strange fact that we are here experiencing all of it. From consciousness, Zahabi moves to fitrah, and from fitrah he brings the discussion back to Allah and the Qur’an.

Maybe the easiest way to understand the whole conversation is like this. Logic helps us recognise contradiction. Observation helps us understand the world. Science helps us discover patterns. History helps us reconstruct the past. Reason helps us connect ideas. Consciousness reminds us that we are more than data-processing machines. And for Zahabi, fitrah is the deepest human starting point from which the signs of Allah become recognisable.

That is why I think this discussion is worth watching. Not because Firas Zahabi has solved every problem in philosophy, he has not. But because he leaves us with one very useful question, “How do I know?” In today’s world, that question is incredibly valuable. Before believing, before forwarding, before accusing, before panicking, before arguing and before saying, “This is definitely true,” ask yourself, what do I actually know? What am I assuming? What am I only feeling? What evidence do I have? What would make me change my mind? Maybe becoming wiser does not begin by collecting more answers. Maybe it begins by learning to ask better questions.

If this discussion sounds interesting to you, I really recommend watching the full conversation yourself. It is long, but there are many ideas that are difficult to capture completely in one article, and you may take away something different from it. Watch the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-0PDmGeMxg&list=WL&index=25

ROCK MALAYSIA: Sejarah, Rock Kapak, Black Metal & Jalan Pulang

 

Kalau anda pernah membesar dengan bunyi gitar garang menjerit dari radio, seluar ketat sampai susah nak cangkung, dan rambut disimpan panjang gerbang macam singa, anda tentu faham perasaan tu. Rock Malaysia bukan sekadar muzik. Dia satu zaman, satu pemberontakan, satu jiwa yang meletup-letup. Tapi persoalan besarnya: macam mana bunyi "jahat" dari Barat ni boleh menyelinap masuk ke kampung kita, meletup jadi fenomena negara, kena gam kerajaan, tersasar ke lembah paling gelap, dan akhirnya jumpa jalan pulang? Jom aku bawak menyusur balik dari awal.

Akar: Zaman Pop Yeh Yeh

Semuanya bermula pertengahan 60-an. Bila The Beatles melanda dunia dengan "She Loves You, yeah yeah yeah", budak-budak kita pun tak nak kalah. Zaman tu orang panggil Pop Yeh Yeh, dan inilah benih pertama rock di Tanah Melayu.

Kumpulan-kumpulan ni digelar kugiran, singkatan "kumpulan gitar rancak", dan buat pertama kalinya, anak muda kita bergitar, berbes, berdram dalam satu formasi rock sebenar. Nama macam A. Ramlie, M. Osman dan Jeffrydin jadi ikon. Bunyinya masih rock n roll awal yang ringan, tapi itulah tapak yang semua benda lepas ni berdiri. Tanpa Pop Yeh Yeh, takde rock kapak.

Darah Mula Panas: Era Hard Rock (70-an)

Bila Pop Yeh Yeh mula malap, masuk pula gelombang yang lagi berat, iaitu pengaruh Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin dan Black Sabbath. Sekarang bukan main cinta-cinta manja je, dah mula ada distortion dan jeritan.

Di sinilah lahir sang datuk: Sweet Charity. Ditubuhkan di Singapura sekitar hujung 60-an ke awal 70-an dengan Ramli Sarip sebagai vokalis, yang kemudiannya digelar "Papa Rock". Bunyi mereka begitu garang sampai orang gelar mereka "Deep Purple Singapura", dan lagu macam Kamelia jadi keramat. Yang penting, kebanyakan kumpulan generasi baru seperti Search dan Lefthanded menjadikan lagu Sweet Charity sebagai lagu awal mereka sebelum meneroka dunia rock sendiri.

Tapi ada satu kisah pasal Sweet Charity yang anda kena ingat betul-betul, sebab dia akan berulang di penghujung cerita. Walaupun imej mereka ala Deep Purple, ahli-ahli Sweet Charity kuat berpegang pada agama. Pernah dalam satu show di Ipoh, seorang promoter suruh budak hantar arak sebagai hadiah, tapi budak tu terkejut sebab ahli kumpulan sedang solat berjemaah sebelum konsert bermula. Simpan cerita tu dalam kepala dulu.

Zaman Emas: Rock Kapak (80-an)

Inilah era yang paling ramai orang kenang. Rock kapak. Rambut singa, jaket kulit, seluar ketat, dan bunyi gitar yang menjerit merentap jiwa.

Sebelum teruskan, satu perkara penting pasal istilah. "Rock kapak" ialah nama yang betul dan piawai untuk fenomena Malaysia ni, bukan "rock glam". Glam rock atau glam metal tu genre Barat (macam Poison dan Mötley Crüe) yang menjadi pengaruh dari segi gaya dan bunyi, tetapi nama tempatan kita tetap rock kapak.

Asal usul nama "kapak" ni pula agak menarik. Ada beberapa teori: sesetengah orang kaitkan dengan gaya "kangkang" berpunca daripada seluar ketat, ada pula yang kata ia datang daripada laungan "rock kah apa?" di atas pentas. Tetapi teori yang paling masuk akal dan paling kerap disebut ialah "kapak" itu sebenarnya pesongan bunyi daripada perkataan "car park". Sebabnya mudah: pada awal scene ni, oleh sebab tiada kelab atau dewan konsert khusus, ramai kumpulan terpaksa mengadakan persembahan di kawasan terbuka seperti tempat letak kereta. Lama-kelamaan, sebutan "car park" bertukar menjadi "kapak", dan nama tu melekat sampai hari ni.

Dua tiang seri era ni:

Search ditubuhkan pada 1981 di Johor Bahru, dan menjadi kumpulan rock terunggul Malaysia pada 80-an dengan berpuluh lagu hits dan konsert yang tiketnya licin sampai ke Indonesia. Bila Amy (Suhaimi Abdul Rahman) masuk ganti vokalis asal, fenomena betul-betul menyala. Album sulung mereka "Cinta Buatan Malaysia" (1985) mendapat sambutan hangat, dan lagu macam Isabella, Fantasia Bulan Madu dan Rozana kekal jadi lagu wajib sampai hari ni.

Wings pula geng rakan sekolah dari Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan Seri Ampang, Kuala Lumpur. Awie, Sham dan Jojet mula bergabung sekitar pertengahan 80-an, dan Wings rasmi terbentuk sekitar 1985 dengan Awie sebagai vokal. Album pertama mereka "Belenggu Irama" (1987) terjual sekitar 180,000 unit, dan lagu macam Sejati serta Misteri Mimpi Syakila jadi anthem kaki rock. Menariknya, walaupun peminat gila-gila, lagu Wings pun sempat tak dibenarkan disiarkan RTM atas alasan lirik dan latar belakang mereka dianggap keterlaluan, satu petanda awal ribut yang bakal datang.

Lepas dua raksasa ni, banjir pula Lefthanded, Ella & The Boys, BPR, May dan berpuluh lagi. Rock betul-betul kuasai negara.

Kerajaan Mula Risau: Gam RTM 1992

Bila sesuatu jadi terlalu besar, mata mula memandang. Rambut panjang mula dilihat sebagai simbol "budaya kuning", lirik rock dituduh membawa maksiat dan pemberontakan, dan isu ini sampai dibahaskan di Parlimen sehingga kumpulan rock digam oleh RTM dan lagu mereka tak boleh dimainkan di TV atau radio kerajaan. Kementerian Penerangan menetapkan garis panduan bahawa semua artis lelaki tak boleh berambut melebihi paras bahu.

Kemuncaknya satu detik simbolik yang tak akan dilupa peminat 80-an. Pada November 1992, Amy (Search) dan Awie (Wings) menerima potongan rambut daripada Menteri Penerangan ketika itu, Mohamad Rahmat, supaya dapat muncul semula di corong RTM. Amy yang rambut singa tu terpaksa akur, dan dia sendiri kemudian mengakui perkara tu terpaksa dilakukan demi menjaga periuk nasi mereka.

Tapi perhatikan satu benda penting: gelombang kawalan pertama ni pasal imej dan akhlak. Rambut, seluar, gaya hidup. Belum lagi masuk bab akidah. Bab tu datang sedekad kemudian, dan jauh lebih gelap.

Turun Bawah Tanah: Underground & Black Metal 

Bila pintu depan (RTM, arus perdana) ditutup, rock tak mati. Dia lari ke bawah tanah. Dari sinilah lahir scene underground yang lagi keras: thrash, death, dan black metal. Kaset demo dijual dari tangan ke tangan, fanzine difotokopi, dan gig kecil-kecilan dibuat dalam studio sewa. Di Kuala Lumpur, geng metal ni selalu berkumpul di sekitar Central Market (Pasar Seni), manakala Ipoh dan Sarawak pun ada scene tersendiri yang bergelora.

Dan jangan ingat scene ni kecil, sebab ia bergerak pantas dan serius. Antara perintis awal ialah Rator, yang merakam demo "Evil Symphony" pada penghujung 1989 dan tersebar sampai ke luar negara. Lepas tu meletus pula gelombang 1990 dengan demo macam "Doctrine to Hell" (Sil Khannaz dari Perlis), "Eternal War" (Brain Dead), dan "Nightmare in Red" (Suffercation). Nama-nama lain yang muncul termasuk Hayagriva, Bazzah, Nebiras, Silent Death dan FTG (Freedom That's Gone). Ini bukan budak main-main; sesetengah demo mereka ditukar dengan peminat sampai ke Sweden, Mexico dan Eropah. Dari kancah yang sama jugalah lahir sang jaguh thrash yang aku simpan kisahnya untuk nanti.

Dan di sinilah bahagian paling menarik, yang selalu terlepas pandang dalam cerita panik dulu. Ramai kumpulan tempatan sebenarnya tak ikut bulat-bulat kancah syaitan Norway. Mereka cipta cabang sendiri yang digelar Eastern Metal, iaitu metal yang bergabung dengan mistik, cerita rakyat dan roh ketimuran. Dua nama besar ialah As-Sahar (dari Singapura, perintis Eastern Black Metal) dan Langsuir dari Ipoh, yang namanya sendiri diambil daripada makhluk folklor Melayu. Tajuk keluaran mereka pun mencerminkan hala tuju ni, contohnya "Primitively Eastern Winds" dan "Meditation Embun Pagi" (As-Sahar) serta "Occultus Mysticism" (Langsuir). Jadi walaupun ada yang bermain tema gelap dan anti-agama secara terang-terangan, dan tajuk macam "Doctrine to Hell" atau "Religious Plague" memang cukup untuk buat orang tua meremang, sebahagian besar scene ni sebenarnya lebih dekat dengan mistik dan warisan berbanding pemujaan syaitan Scandinavia.

Tapi memang ada cabang yang paling ekstrem dan paling bermasalah, iaitu black metal tulen yang berkiblat ke Norway (Mayhem, Burzum, Darkthrone) dengan ideologi anti-Kristian dan sejarah bakar gereja yang nyata di sana. Genre ni terkenal dengan corpse paint, iaitu mekap hitam-putih supaya nampak macam mayat. Bila budak-budak kita telan imej dan ideologi ni tanpa saring, di situlah cerita jadi kelam betul.

Awal 2000-an, negara gempar. Media penuh dengan dakwaan ngeri, konon ada ritual pijak dan bakar Quran, minum darah, sembelih binatang untuk upacara. Dan sebagai penulis yang jujur dengan pembaca, di sinilah aku kena pisahkan yang disahkan dengan yang khabar angin:

Yang disahkan: Pada malam Tahun Baru 2005/2006, polis menahan kira-kira 380 orang di sebuah konsert yang didakwa black metal di Kuala Lumpur atas syak penyalahgunaan dadah dan kesalahan lain. Selepas itu, pada 23 Januari 2006, Majlis Fatwa Kebangsaan memutuskan black metal haram bagi orang Islam kerana boleh menyebabkan pengikutnya memberontak terhadap agama, malah boleh membawa kepada murtad. Kesannya, sehingga 228 kumpulan metal disenaraikan sebagai diharamkan.

Yang khabar angin: Dakwaan ritual darah dan bakar Quran tu tersebar luas, tapi banyak yang dipertikai. Malah badan agama sendiri (IKIM) menulis mereka tidak dapat mengesahkan sama ada maklumat itu betul keseluruhannya atau tidak, dan pemuzik metal ketika itu menafikan pernah melihat sesiapa sembah syaitan, minum darah kambing, atau buat aktiviti terlarang. Pasal "bakar masjid" pula, aku dah cari banyak kali, tapi tak jumpa satu kes mahkamah pun yang mengaitkan penganut black metal dengan pembakaran masjid. (Kes bakar masjid sebenar di Malaysia berlaku pada 2010 dan 2024, dan langsung tak berkaitan dengan black metal.) Jadi kalau anda terjumpa "statistik" yang terlalu spesifik pasal operasi polis besar-besaran black metal bakar surau, berhati-hati, kerana banyak yang tak dapat disahkan.

Tapi bahagian paling menyayat hati ni yang betul dan penting: bila isu meletus (bermula di sekitar Utara seperti Kedah dan Sungai Petani), sesiapa yang pakai serba hitam pun kena tangkap walaupun bukan black metal. Dan ramai budak Melayu yang terjebak sebenarnya tak faham pun ideologi asal genre tu. Mereka menghafal lirik "syaitan" tanpa erti, semata-mata nak nampak garang dan berbeza daripada rock kapak yang mereka rasa dah "lembut". Inilah bahaya sebenar budaya import yang ditelan bulat-bulat: bukan sebab muziknya, tapi sebab ia diambil tanpa akar, tanpa faham, tanpa pertahanan.

Jalan Pulang: Rock Beridentiti Semula

Menariknya, dalam kegelapan itulah muncul cahaya paling terang.

Pasaran rupa-rupanya dahagakan sesuatu yang bersih. Pada Oktober 1996, muncul Raihan dengan album "Puji-Pujian", dan ia bukan sekadar laku, ia meletup. Album itu terjual lebih 750,000 unit di Malaysia dan 3.5 juta di seluruh dunia, menjadikan Raihan kumpulan muzik Malaysia paling berjaya dari segi jualan album. Selepas kejayaan Raihan, kumpulan nasyid pula tumbuh bak cendawan lepas hujan. Nasyid isi kekosongan yang ditinggalkan rock.

Dan sebenarnya, rock kita tak pernah lari sepenuhnya daripada Tuhan, walaupun pada zaman kemuncaknya. Ramai yang tak perasan, tapi kalau anda dengar betul-betul, banyak lagu rock kapak bukan tentang cinta leleh, sebaliknya tentang keinsafan, kematian dan Pencipta. Ambil BPR dengan Sudah Sampai Sini, sebuah lagu yang merenung usia yang berlalu dan hari perhitungan yang pasti menanti setiap kita. Wings pula ada Dari Tuhan, XPDC dengan Hijau Bumi Tuhan, dan Search dengan Mentari Merah Di Ufuk Timur. Malah sesetengah penulis lirik rock zaman itu memang berjiwa tasawuf, jadi ada lagu yang bunyinya macam kisah cinta biasa tetapi sebenarnya menyelit makna kerohanian yang dalam. Jadi benih dakwah itu rupanya sudah lama tersemai dalam muzik rock kita sendiri, cuma kita yang tak sedar.

Tapi rock sendiri pun jumpa jalan pulang, dengan cara paling gempak. Ingat sang jaguh thrash yang aku simpan tadi? Cromok. Ditubuhkan pada 1987 ketika ahlinya belajar di Australia, mereka diiktiraf sebagai pelopor thrash metal Malaysia. Album "Forever in Time" (1993) jadi album paling berjaya mereka, terjual melebihi 100,000 unit, tanpa masuk TV langsung.

Yang buat Cromok jadi lagenda bukan sekadar bunyi laju. Ia jiwa mereka. Lirik mereka pasal perang, sejarah dan alam, bukan anti-Tuhan. Malah, lagu mereka Metallurgical menggabungkan intro lagu tradisional Ulek Mayang, dan menjadi antara lagu paling digilai peminat. Bayangkan: thrash metal gila laju, tapi berakar pada warisan Melayu sendiri. Itulah maksudnya rock beridentiti.

Tapi cerita yang paling menyentuh hati ialah tentang rockers itu sendiri. Ramai yang dahulunya berdiri di atas pentas dengan gitar menjerit dan rambut mengurai, akhirnya menemui jalan pulang kepada agama. Ada Ustaz Radzi, bekas vokalis kumpulan Melissa yang popular dengan Cinta Untuk Nabila, yang berhijrah menjadi penceramah bebas dan giat berdakwah, sehingga menghembuskan nafas terakhir ketika membuat persembahan di atas pentas pada tahun 2018. Ada Ali, vokalis XPDC, yang meninggalkan hingar-bingar demi mendekatkan diri dengan keluarga dan agama. Ada juga Ustaz Akhil Hayy, bekas anggota kumpulan rock 80-an D'Riyadh, yang kini digelar "Ustaz Rock" kerana bertukar daripada pemuzik rock menjadi pendakwah dan ikon nasyid. Dan ada Izam, bekas vokalis kumpulan E.Y.E, yang meninggalkan dunia seni pada 1999 untuk menumpukan hidup kepada ilmu agama. Senarai ini sebenarnya panjang, dan setiap satu membuktikan perkara yang sama: hidayah tidak pernah mengira latar belakang, walaupun anda seorang mat rock tegar.

Dan ingat lagi Sweet Charity yang solat sebelum konsert di Ipoh tu? Benang merah tu sebenarnya wujud dari mula-mula. Kaki rock kita rupanya boleh keras jiwa tanpa membuang iman. Sebab tu sampai hari ni, kalau anda pergi gig metal di Penang atau KL, penganjur selalu berpesan sebelum band naik: hormat agama, tiada simbol syaitan. Itu bukan sekatan. Itu identiti yang mereka pilih sendiri.

Gitar Bising, Hati Dengar Azan

Jadi, itulah susur galur rock kita. Dari pinjaman Barat, ke puncak kegemilangan, ke lembah paling gelap, dan akhirnya pulang. Pengajarannya bukan "rock itu jahat". Pengajarannya lebih halus: apa-apa budaya yang kita telan tanpa faham dan tanpa akar, boleh menyesatkan. Yang matang, yang berpijak pada jati diri, yang jaga iman, itulah yang kekal dan berbunga.

Rock Malaysia dah buktikan sendiri. Gitar boleh menjerit sekuat mana pun, tapi hati masih boleh dengar azan. Dan itulah jalan pulang yang sebenar.

When Defending Islam Starts Becoming About Winning

I have listened to many Muslim-Christian debates over the years.

A lot, actually.

And let me make something clear from the beginning.

I am writing this as a Muslim.

I believe in Allah. I believe in the Qur'an. I believe Muhammad ﷺ is the Messenger of Allah. And I believe in Jesus / Isa عليه السلام  as the Messiah and one of the greatest messengers of God.

So this isn't really a piece about me wondering which religion I belong to.

It is something else that has been bothering me.

It is about us.

About the way we sometimes defend Islam.

And perhaps, somewhere along the way, the difference between defending the truth and enjoying the victory can become very, very thin.

I actually enjoy listening to serious discussions about Christianity and Islam.

There are important questions there.

The nature of God.

The Trinity.

Who Jesus really was.

What he actually taught.

The reliability and transmission of scripture.

Prophethood.

Revelation.

The Qur'an.

These are not trivial matters.

Muslims should be able to explain what we believe. And if somebody challenges Islam intellectually, there is nothing wrong with answering that challenge intellectually.

The Qur'an itself calls people to wisdom and reasoning.

So apologetics itself is not what troubles me.

What troubles me is what sometimes happens around it.

I have watched Muslim apologetics for some time, and sometimes I get this uncomfortable feeling that we are becoming a little too entertained by the whole thing.

Someone asks a Christian a difficult question.

He struggles to answer.

And suddenly...

"Baked."

"Destroyed."

"Finished."

"He had no answer!"

Everybody laughs.

Then comes the thumbnail.

The clips.

The reactions.

Thousands of views.

Likes.

Subscribers.

Comments celebrating how badly the other person lost.

And I sometimes find myself asking:

What exactly are we celebrating here?

That Islam was explained clearly?

Or that another human being was humiliated?

Those are two very different things.

--

Maybe I am overthinking it.

But sometimes you can almost feel when a conversation stops being da'wah and starts becoming entertainment.

And that's where I become uncomfortable.

Because da'wah, at least as I understand it, is supposed to invite someone towards Allah.

The Qur'an says:

"Invite to the way of your Lord with wisdom and good instruction, and argue with them in a way that is best."

— Qur'an 16:125

That last part always stays with me.

In a way that is best.

Not merely with the best argument.

But in the best manner.

There is a difference.

You might win the argument and completely lose the person.

And then what exactly have you won?

---

I sometimes wonder about the person standing on the other side.

Maybe he is Christian because that is what his parents taught him since childhood.

Maybe he genuinely loves God.

Maybe he genuinely believes Jesus is his saviour.

Maybe he has never seriously encountered the Islamic understanding of Jesus.

Maybe some of the questions we are asking him are things he has never thought about before.

And yes, perhaps his theology is wrong from our perspective.

But does that mean his confusion should become our entertainment?

If he cannot answer a question about the Trinity, why should that make me happy?

Wouldn't a Muslim doing da'wah think instead:

This person is struggling with an important question. How can I explain tawhid to him in a way that reaches his heart?

That's very different from:

Got you.

Maybe the first attitude is da'wah.

The second...

I don't know.

Maybe sometimes that's just ego.

---

And ego is dangerous precisely because it can hide inside something good.

We can tell ourselves:

"I'm defending Islam."

Maybe we are.

But perhaps somewhere inside there is also:

I want to win.

I want people to see how knowledgeable I am.

I want my clip to go viral.

I want people in the comments saying, "MashaAllah brother destroyed him."

I want the views.

The likes.

The subscribers.

The recognition.

And perhaps eventually we don't even notice the difference anymore.

Only Allah knows anyone's intention, of course.

I certainly don't.

I cannot look into somebody's heart and say that he is doing da'wah for fame or money or popularity.

That would itself be unfair.

I'm talking about the danger.

For them.

For me.

For anyone doing religious work publicly.

Because once an audience becomes involved, sincerity becomes complicated.

Very complicated.

---

There is another verse that makes me think about this.

Allah says:

"...do not let the hatred of a people lead you away from justice. Be just; that is nearer to righteousness."

— Qur'an 5:8

Even towards people we disagree with.

Be just.

That's powerful.

Because intellectual justice means I should represent Christianity accurately before criticising it.

I shouldn't deliberately choose the weakest Christian explanation when I know stronger ones exist.

I shouldn't quote something out of context because it makes a better clip.

I shouldn't pretend an argument has no answer when I know Christian scholars have actually proposed answers , even if I ultimately find those answers unconvincing.

If I believe Islam is true, then surely I don't need to make Christianity look weaker than it actually is.

Truth doesn't need that kind of help.

Give me their strongest argument.

Let me understand it properly.

Then let Islam answer that.

That, to me, gives far more confidence in Islam than watching someone defeat an unprepared person on the street.

---

And there is something else.

As Muslims, we don't believe guidance ultimately comes from our debating skills.

Guidance comes from Allah.

That alone should humble us.

I can explain tawhid beautifully.

I can know Greek manuscripts.

I can memorise Bible verses.

I can understand Nicaea, Chalcedon, textual criticism, Christology, Trinity, atonement...

I can win every debate.

And still I cannot put iman into another person's heart.

That belongs to Allah.

Even the Prophet ﷺ was reminded:

"Indeed, you do not guide whom you love, but Allah guides whom He wills."

— Qur'an 28:56

That changes the whole psychology of da'wah for me.

My responsibility is not to defeat the person standing in front of me.

My responsibility is to convey truth as sincerely, accurately and beautifully as I can.

The outcome belongs to Allah.

---

And when I look at the Prophet ﷺ, I struggle to imagine him enjoying somebody's theological confusion.

Yes, he debated.

He challenged false beliefs.

The Qur'an itself contains powerful arguments against shirk and against theological claims it rejects.

Islam is not asking Muslims to become intellectually passive.

But there is also mercy.

Patience.

Adab.

Concern for people.

The Qur'an even tells Muslims:

"Do not insult those they invoke besides Allah, lest they insult Allah in hostility without knowledge."

— Qur'an 6:108

I find this verse remarkable.

Even when Muslims believe the object being worshipped is false, we are still told to control our tongue.

Why?

Because da'wah isn't merely about expressing how wrong somebody else is.

We have to think about what our behaviour produces.

That is part of wisdom too.

---

Sometimes I think we need to ask ourselves a very uncomfortable question.

Suppose a Christian walks away from a debate thinking:

"I still disagree with Islam. But that Muslim treated me with such dignity. He listened to what I actually believe. He didn't mock me. He answered my questions seriously. Maybe I should read the Qur'an for myself."

Isn't that something beautiful?

Now imagine another person walking away thinking:

"These Muslims just wanted to embarrass me. Everybody laughed when I couldn't answer. Then they uploaded my face onto YouTube with 'CHRISTIAN DESTROYED' written across it."

Maybe we technically "won."

But what did that person learn about Islam?

That's the part I worry about.

---

Perhaps we have become too influenced by internet culture.

Everything needs drama now.

Everything needs a winner.

Someone has to be cooked.

Someone has to be baked.

Someone has to be destroyed.

The thumbnail needs a shocked face.

The title needs capital letters.

The algorithm needs conflict.

And maybe without noticing it, da'wah begins adapting itself to the logic of social media.

Because calm conversations don't always get millions of views.

Humiliation does.

Conflict does.

Anger does.

Tribal victory does.

And this is where I think anyone involved in online da'wah , including those of us who consume it , needs to be careful.

Are we feeding people's hearts?

Or feeding the algorithm?

Maybe sometimes both.

That's exactly why intention needs constant checking.

---

I don't say any of this because I think Muslims should stop defending Islam.

Quite the opposite.

I want Muslim thinkers who understand Christianity deeply.

I want Muslim scholars who can engage Christian philosophers and theologians at their strongest.

I want serious discussions about the Trinity, Incarnation, crucifixion, textual transmission, prophethood, revelation and tawhid.

But I want something else with it.

Adab.

Knowledge without arrogance.

Confidence without mockery.

Strong arguments without humiliation.

Firmness without cruelty.

And perhaps the ability to say:

"That's a good question. I don't know the answer. Let me look into it."

To me, that doesn't weaken Islam.

It strengthens the credibility of the Muslim speaking about it.

---

And perhaps we, the audience, have some responsibility too.

Maybe we should stop rewarding humiliation.

Stop measuring da'wah by how badly somebody was "destroyed."

Stop treating religious conversations like football matches.

Our brother doesn't need to score against Christianity for Islam to remain true.

Islam doesn't become stronger because a Christian couldn't answer a question in Hyde Park.

And Islam doesn't become weaker because a Christian theologian gave an intelligent response to a Muslim objection.

If something is true, it remains true.

So let the evidence speak.

---

For myself, I increasingly prefer something quieter.

Read Christianity seriously.

Read Islam seriously.

Read the Bible.

Read the Qur'an.

Read history.

Read what serious Christian scholars actually say rather than only hearing Christianity through Muslim apologetics.

And likewise, Christians who genuinely want to understand Islam should read serious Muslim scholarship rather than learning Islam only from Christian polemics.

Ask difficult questions.

Follow the evidence.

But don't forget why we are doing it.

For me as a Muslim, the destination isn't merely:

I proved Christianity wrong.

It is:

I understand my own faith better. I understand why I believe in Allah. I understand why tawhid makes sense to me. And hopefully, I can communicate that to another person with wisdom.

If Allah uses that conversation to guide somebody, Alhamdulillah.

If not, I still owe that person dignity.

---

Maybe that's what has been bothering me after watching so many debates.

Not Islam.

Not my belief in Allah.

Not even apologetics itself.

It's the possibility that something originally meant to invite people towards God can slowly become another form of entertainment.

Views.

Likes.

Subscribers.

Clips.

Winning.

Losing.

Baked.

Destroyed.

And somewhere beneath all that noise...

the original intention can quietly disappear.

I hope it doesn't.

For them.

For us.

For me.

Because one day there will be no audience.

No subscribers.

No likes.

No comment section.

No viral clips.

Just us standing before Allah.

And on that day, perhaps the question will not be how many arguments we won.

But what was actually inside our hearts when we were making them.

Allah knows best.