I LOVE being a lecturer. My role, I have always believed, is not only to impart knowledge to students but also to develop their academic potential and soft skills by exposing them to the world of work. Above all, I try to teach them the importance of upholding integrity in everything they do.
But, last week, I felt I failed to do just that. To my utter dismay, I received reports on May 16, a day when all teachers are celebrated for their hard work and dedication, accusing my students of plagiarism.
As a lecturer, I have come across a lot of plagiarised work. The reason this happens is that students fail to rephrase the ideas they deem suitable to be included in their essays.
But, to discover that the work plagiarised was a creative piece left me dumbfounded. The assignment was to produce a short film within a span of seven days. Unlike essays, which require students to quote scholars and cite academic journals, a short film allows them to be as creative as they want. Anything goes.
Afraid that I would pass an unjust decision which would possibly tarnish my students’ reputation, I decided to confront them about this matter.
With tears rolling down their cheeks, the girls said they didn’t know that the eight-minute mystery film they produced turned out to be a plagiarised version of a French short film.
“We felt something was not right when Desmond was very adamant that we use specific shots and angles, and insisted we follow the script to a tee,” said the film’s director, while other group members nodded in agreement.
Desmond was the only male member of the group who came up with the idea for the script. In class, I noticed he positioned himself as the group’s leader.
“Why didn’t you say anything, then? Why did you keep quiet?” I asked. “We respected his decision because he was the one who wrote the script,” they replied.
Their answer took me back to my teenage years when I chose to keep quiet because I was afraid of being seen as rude and disrespectful. The times that I disagreed with something but decided not to do anything about it because I thought voicing out my views would not make a difference. The hours spent talking with friends about the dissatisfaction I felt instead of confronting the person who caused my misery was still vivid in my memory.
The incessant fear of questioning what is felt as wrong, the tendency of conforming to public opinion, the apprehension felt from the mere thought of challenging societal norms, all came flooding back.
I cannot help but wonder: is it our culture that makes so? Malaysians, according to social psychologist Gerard Hendrik Hofstede, are collectivistic in nature. As opposed to an individualistic culture, where people look after themselves, a collectivistic culture like ours gives importance to a group, be it a family or other extended groupings.
According to communications scholar Stella Ting-Toomey, countries that are collectivistic will most likely have a high score in power distance (how people view power relationship within a group). Malaysia is an example of a collectivist society with a high power distance score.
So, what are the characteristics of a high power distance culture? Ting-Toomey says people in high power distance cultures tend to accept unequal power distributions, asymmetrical relations, and rewards and sanctions based on rank, role, status, age and perhaps even gender identity.
This, I feel, explains my students’ reaction to the sly, manipulative plan Desmond concocted. While values like politeness and respect for the elders — due to our collectivistic and high power distance society — are some of the distinguishing characteristics Malaysians are known for, they have somehow made us appear docile.
My students’ decision to not challenge Desmond has cost them an “A”.
This, I hope, is a lesson that they will remember. When something doesn’t feel right, speak up, or you may risk losing out.
Dr Sabariah Mohamed Salleh is a lecturer and head of UKM’s Centre of Corporate
Communications