A concerned citizen recently sought my views on something I find troubling. An academic has published a book suggesting that Chinese New Year is a religious celebration rather than a cultural one.

This claim runs counter to the longstanding position of muftis and respected religious scholars, who have consistently affirmed that Chinese New Year is a cultural festivity. Their guidance has been clear: there is no religious barrier to Muslims attending or participating in such celebrations.

As someone who has accepted countless invitations to usher in the lunar year—whether at the homes of non‑Muslims, temples, or hotels—it is only apt that I state my position.

As a Muslim, I am fully aware of the boundaries I cannot cross when attending events hosted by non‑Muslims. I do not need anyone to dictate the dos and don’ts or tell me what I should or should not think. I am confident that I can be a good friend, a responsible citizen, and a man of faith at the same time.

I recall attending a Christmas High Tea organised by a Christian group. Upon arrival, I was introduced to pastors, preachers, and community leaders. Later, DAP secretary‑general Loke Siew Fook joined as guest of honour.

It was then I realised that my son and I were the only two Malay‑Muslim guests in a crowd of 1,000. I was later told that while others had been invited, I was the only one “brave enough” to show up.

That saddened me. Are so many Malay‑Muslims insecure about their faith that they refuse to mingle with others?

Have they been conditioned to believe they cannot enter the home of a Chinese family with a pet dog, or a kitchen filled with cutlery used for non‑halal food?

A former colleague once shared how, when she invited staff to her house, the first question asked was whether the oven used to bake a cake was halal. Others worried about the plates and cutlery.

I came to understand why when I visited a friend of my wife. We were served packet drinks and simple titbits like goreng pisang on paper plates. While this was likely done to respect our sensitivities, I couldn’t help but feel sad that decades after independence, such trust issues still linger.

In my role as a social commentator, I have given talks at churches and mingled with their congregants. Food was always served, and my hosts would ask about my preferences.

I usually tell them I am happy to sample seafood and chicken, since this is the practice I adopt when flying with foreign airlines or dining in restaurants, hotels and homes abroad.

Having lived in the United States for six years and in Edinburgh, Scotland for three, I am no stranger to socialising in non‑Muslim homes and houses of worship. Nor does it cause me any anxiety. After all, I attend these functions on social invitation, not for religious purposes.

If prayers are recited asking God to bless the country and its people, I bow in silence. When deities are mentioned, I tune them out and offer my own prayer for our nation’s safety. I would never participate in a religious ritual, nor would any of my non‑Muslim friends ever expect me to.

We adult Muslims know what we can and cannot do. I see no point in going to university yet being troubled over “non‑halal” pots and pans, or the sight of churches and temples.

Our own royalties and governors attend events organised by non‑Muslims. Muslim politicians in Sarawak and Sabah do the same. Are they less faithful to Islam or ignorant of their religion?

We Muslims do not need religious authorities to dictate what we can or cannot do. When we are invited to a festivity, it is because non‑Muslims want to socialise with us—not preach to us.

And as Muslims, we carry the responsibility of ensuring our plural society remains closely knit, guarding against forces that seek to drive us apart.

To all my Chinese friends in Malaysia and abroad, Happy Chinese New Year. May our nation be blessed with prosperity, harmony, and common sense.

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.