Mulyagusdin

In October 2009, in a small mosque in Marburg, Germany, I learned something about myself, and about my culture, that has stayed with me ever since.

Experience Abroad: Germany

At the time I was taking a German-language preparation course before starting my studies at Leipzig University. It happened to coincide with the month of Ramadan, and my fellow Indonesian students and I often broke our fast together at that small mosque. One night, the mosque caretakers asked for help washing dishes after the iftar. I was actually tired and wanted to rest, but the word “no” never came out of my mouth. I nodded and washed dishes late into the night.

That simple incident forced me to ask: why is it so hard for me, and perhaps for many Indonesians, to simply say “no”?

Yes and No, Unequal

In our culture, the word “yes” is often seen as the polite answer, while “no” is considered rude or self-important. As a result, we learn to avoid “no”, replacing it with ambiguous answers, uncertain promises, or willingness that is really given under pressure. Yet an honest “no”, delivered well, is worth far more than a “yes” that is actually a polite lie.

This imbalance is not merely a matter of manners. It seeps into more serious territory: transparency and accountability in public life.

When the Inability to Say “No” Becomes a Governance Problem

Picture a negotiation forum between local government and an investor in a fictional district, let's call it Kecamatan Lhok-Lam. Local officials, reluctant to refuse openly, choose to give an answer that sounds positive but is actually empty. The investor goes home with false optimism. Residents wait for a realization that never comes. When it finally comes out that the answer was “no” all along, trust has already been damaged, and everyone loses.

This pattern repeats throughout our bureaucracy: a decision that is really already “no” gets wrapped up as “will be considered”, “in process”, or “insya Allah”. This lack of clarity creates room for what I call the “Invisible Men” culture, people who avoid visibility and accountability for their own decisions, because they never truly state a position.

A Lesson from Marburg

That night of washing dishes in Marburg was simple, but it changed how I see things. Saying “no” is not a form of rudeness; it is a form of honesty that respects other people's time, resources, and trust. A forced “yes”, on the other hand, only postpones disappointment to a worse day.

If we want to build more transparent governance, in government, in companies, and in everyday life, perhaps the first step is this simple: put “yes” and “no” on equal footing. Give both the same room to be spoken honestly, without guilt.