It also implies that whatever gains people expected from a cleaner government have failed to materialise in ways they can feel in their daily lives.

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This is a telling admission. It suggests that, for a segment of voters, corruption is not judged in the abstract but weighed against tangible outcomes such as jobs, income, and opportunity.

If a leader seen as corrupt is remembered as someone who delivered on that front, while a government elected on a reform platform is seen as falling short economically, then the anti-corruption argument alone loses its persuasive power.

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Disillusionment of this kind rarely stays confined to one community; it tends to be a warning sign of a broader erosion of trust that could shape voting behaviour well beyond the immediate group where it first takes root.

The lesson from Johor is perhaps uncomfortable for all sides. Voters may forgive old mistakes, but they are far less forgiving when they feel ignored.

The next litmus test in this? Negeri Sembilan state polls. All the best, Harapan.

Yiswaree Palansamy is a member of the Malaysiakini team.

Supporters became angry, weakening Harapan. Then a well-fed reptile saw the chance to turn around and bite Anwar in Johor.

As the Malays say, “padan muka” or "serves you right".

Bersama underdogs

This gives space for Parti Bersama Malaysia to capture “disillusioned voters”.

Not only from those exasperated with Harapan's failures, but also from those disenchanted with the cynical games of both PAS and Umno.

Bersama has succeeded in fielding 15 candidates in Johor, barely a month after being taken over by two former PKR leaders.

The candidates were not chosen for political bootlicking, but based on merit as self-made professionals, businesspeople who want real change.

The team is running on a shoestring budget, using unpaid volunteers and a rented truck as a mobile campaign platform.

This is because they refuse to take “political donations” from tycoons, which will come with demands for favours later.

“How are big campaign events of other parties being funded?” asked Bersama leader Rafizi Ramli in a ceramah.

In contrast, the party will reveal how it gets its funding and how it's spent, starting with the Johor election.

Rotan naughty kids

But why vote for Bersama when it only has modest aims to be a vocal opposition in Johor?

Because even if Harapan wins big in Johor, its power is limited as the palace has the final say.

As former Umno leader Puad Zarkashi claimed, “Johor Umno is controlled by the palace in making decisions.”

Indeed, even though Umno won a landslide victory of 40 of 56 seats in the last state election, the party's choice of menteri besar was blocked by the palace.

A Harapan win will only give sinking Anwar another breath of air, and lull him into thinking “all is fine, don't change things.”

It's better to choose Bersama as a risk-free “protest vote” to wake up Harapan.

Forget about the Islamic state fearmongering, as the palace is moderate and PAS is only contesting 11 seats anyway.

A strong protest vote against Harapan is like giving a firm whack of the rotan on a naughty boy's backside to make him change for the better.

Don't worry, Harapan will still be there. But I hope that after a rude “wake-up call” in Johor, the coalition will do real radical reforms in its last year of power.

Then voters can decide if a new and improved “Harapan Baru” is still worth supporting.

Monitoring these programmes does not mean there would automatically be transparency. This is because many of these programmes are part of the gravy train driven by bureaucrats, political operatives, and their various proxies.

Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim also recently lamented the abuse of bumiputera loans, which tells rational Malaysians everything we need to know about the average majority of rakyat who are screwed over by the system, which has nothing to do with non-Malay political operatives.

And let us be very clear, not only did the old maverick threaten to fire Lim a couple of times, but he also got into a public spat with Pua, labelling him (in a roundabout way) as arrogant.

The response from these two men demonstrates that there were tensions between the crony class and public servants who believed it was their job to safeguard the public interest.

The plutocratic class

Meanwhile, PKR rabble rouser Hassan Abdul Karim has said that not only has there been a return of the crony class, but now we have the Mahakaya.

You can discover the types of Remora capitalists (as I refer to them) in Hassan’s warning, but pay attention to the third type: “These people seem to enjoy immunity and cannot be touched due to the 3R ban.”

The Pasir Gudang MP also noted their business dealings, even though this was expressly forbidden by the Federal Constitution.

And Mahathir did have his scraps with this type of class back in the day. As reported by The Independent, “In the meantime, the government is waging all-out war on the rulers.”

“Civil servants have been told to seek the prime minister’s permission before seeing the king; state governments are under orders to refuse business favours to their rulers.

“Religious teachers have been encouraged to comment on the un-Islamic behaviour of the supposed guardians of Islam.”

I want to be very clear. I am not saying that the party Lim and Pua represent is not linked in any way to the plutocratic class.

Indeed, it would be disingenuous to make that claim. It is no accident that the DAP got its moniker “Development Action Party”.

But the reality is that, from public records and their responses, it is evident that both men operating under the system they were under chose to safeguard public interests, or at the very least attempted to do so.

We can have a discussion about the numbers behind these kinds of projects, but to further a specific type of narrative by singling out these two is beyond the pale.

Najib gets his reputation laundered while Lim and Pua get smeared as people who do not have the interests of the rakyat at heart.

By not responding to these types of criticisms, the only thing the DAP is doing is normalising narratives that will damage its credibility with its base.

This is what is rotten about Madani.

With the LRT3, the disagreement is not really about whether it should exist. It does exist and the disagreement is about what certain decisions mean.

One view says that reducing scope means the project was weakened. Another view says that reducing scope means costs were brought under control.

Both views sound reasonable, but they lead to very different conclusions about responsibility.

Not a simple story

Big infrastructure projects are not one decision, but many decisions over many years, so we should not treat them as one simple story.

There are different stages: approval, construction, adjustment and completion. Each stage involves different people. Each has different pressures. Thus, each stage should be judged differently.

The most important question is not who approved the project, or who completed it, or who inherited it.

The most important question is this: When costs started rising, were decisions made early enough to prevent bigger financial damage later? Because in public finance, the biggest risk is not change, but waiting too long to change.

No one likes changes in big projects. They are hugely controversial and often criticised; but if no changes are made when costs rise, the problem can worsen.

Regrettably, the public pays for it later; through higher debt, higher taxes, or when other services are reduced.

That is the real trade-off.

The LRT3 line is now complete and that is good. However, completion should not stop questions.

We still need to ask how decisions were made along the way. Not to blame individuals for political reasons, but to understand whether public money is being managed properly.

In the end, fiscal discipline is not about political narratives or competing claims of credit.

It is about whether difficult decisions are made early enough to prevent problems from becoming crises, or whether political narratives later turn responsibility into blame.

DAP’s less-than-promising stance has resulted in many calling it names - unfairly perhaps - but their inability to push back against non-Malay-unfriendly moves not just by Umno but PKR itself has lost it significant support already.

The unfriendly moves include regulations and poor decisions over places of worship, diminished opportunities for deserving non-Malays, and the constant playing of the race and religion card, especially by Umno Youth.

The moon and keris rise

In contrast, Bersama’s promise to work for all races and all downtrodden, with what amounts to a mini-manifesto on its website, continues to attract attention and seems to resonate well with younger voters not shackled by the baggage of the past.

It has a promising chance of taking seats, especially from PKR and poses a threat to DAP as well. It could cost DAP marginal seats if the youth decide to make a change in call.

With the PAS moon on the ascendant and the Umno keris rising in a coordinated attack, not wasting efforts by fighting each other, Malay support for PKR is likely to be all but extinguished this round.

With Bersama a threat to urban Harapan dominance and an Umno/PAS pact in the rural areas and other strongly Malay areas, Harapan and especially PKR may suffer a pincer attack which will put it out of commission at GE 16.

DAP may not get the 40 MP seats it has now. If it has any pride, it will languish in opposition, eschewing a place in the new coalition.

With the outlook for PKR and Amanah bleak, it’s hard to see how Anwar’s Madani government, sans Umno, can rule again.

It is a plaintive lesson in the importance of choosing friends carefully and keeping them at arm’s length if they are less than trustworthy.

One forgets at their own peril that Umno is a master of being in government, even if they do not have the voting power.

To answer the heading for this article, it does not matter anymore. Almost certainly Anwar will not be given the chance to form the next government - that privilege is likely to move to PN/BN, the coalition most likely to get the most number of seats.

Once they get the privilege, it’s a done deal with some horse-trading with the states across the South China Sea, Sabah and Sarawak, who are likely to go with the majority decision in the peninsula.

I don’t think Islamic law will be introduced for all - apart from the impact on foreign direct investment and sentiment, some 40 percent of the population is non-Muslim.

It is a move which won’t be supported by Sabah and Sarawak. They won’t get a two-thirds majority in the Dewan Rakyat for the laws to be passed.

Sadly, neither Malays nor non-Malays, east or west - all Malaysians in other words - will benefit because the old guard with their deadwood, decrepit politicians and patronage practices will still be in power. Nothing will change for now.

For change, we may have to support somebody else who is in it for the long term. Yes, Bersama, hopefully they get enough support to stay and fight for another day. No, I am not making any predictions - let whatever comes be a surprise.

These damning remarks underscored the unprecedented magnitude of the scandal, which the judge described as one of the world’s largest kleptocratic episodes.

Since then, there has been a golden silence. Perhaps, with state elections looming, Zahid and his Umno cohorts decided that bringing Najib’s name into the fray would be more of a liability than of an asset in the lead-up and campaigning.

Even Najib’s staunchest ally, who benefited from Najib’s generosity, the MIC, last January held special prayers in Batu Caves with hundreds of people wearing white shirts bearing the MIC party logo who chanted “Hidup Najib” (Long Live Najib).

Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim, who has maintained an elegant silence, ignoring such calls despite being badgered over the past eight years, has not yielded.

But when he was in the opposition, he asked those calling for a royal pardon for Najib to first read through the judges’ decisions in the SRC International case, which sent him to jail.

“Read first, how many millions (were taken), which account they went to, how many diamonds were bought. Once we read and know, then we won’t defend (Najib),” Anwar said.

It was never about Najib

So, has Najib been forgotten or written off by Umno?

When Najib’s conviction was upheld, Zahid demanded “fair justice” (whatever this means) for Najib.

His rallying cry - “Justice for Najib” - became a partisan slogan, repeated endlessly by party loyalists even after the courts had spoken.

For Zahid, Najib’s plight was political capital, a tool to galvanise the grassroots and project Umno as the defender of its embattled leader.

The contrasting voices within reveal the hollowness of the “Justice for Najib” campaign.

It was never a universal principle within Umno - only a shield wielded by some, while others quietly distanced themselves.

The “Justice for Najib” campaign was loud, relentless, and choreographed - but it was never truly about Najib. It was about Umno’s survival and the political dividends his plight could yield.

Zahid and the party elite wrapped themselves in his cause when it suited them, demanding “fair justice” as a rallying cry to boost the grassroots.

The same leaders who once thundered in his defence now pivoted to other agendas, leaving Najib to serve his reduced term in Kajang Prison. If his appeal on the 1MDB case fails, he will serve another 15 years.

Najib’s allies appear to be fair-weather friends. They used his predicament as a shield against criticism, a banner to rally the faithful, and a bargaining chip in their own political manoeuvring.

But when the slogan no longer served the party’s interests, they abandoned it - and Najib.

His fate illustrates a deeper reality of Malaysian politics: loyalty is conditional, and justice is often invoked only when it aligns with power.

The silence of his comrades these days is the clearest proof that “Justice for Najib” was never about justice at all. It was a slogan of convenience, discarded once it no longer fit the narrative.

Najib remains behind bars, but the campaign that once roared in his name has withered into whispers.

His story is no longer about innocence or guilt - it is about how quickly political loyalty evaporates. And in that silence, Najib stands alone, a reminder that in politics, even the loudest allies can turn out to be the feeblest friends.

For people I have spoken to who are dissatisfied with the way things are, they do not really blame Anwar. They blame DAP for not speaking up. After all, Anwar, they say, is taking care of his community, but why is DAP kowtowing to everything?

This, of course, directly opposes how Perikatan Nasional voters think. They have seen Malay politicians brought down by the will of the people and by factional ideological blocs.

They understand that the individual is less important than the political parties that they support or from which they can withdraw their support.

More the pity that the non-Muslims do not have this advantage.

History shows that when direct criticism becomes difficult, it does not vanish, but it changes form.

Jonathan Swift’s “Gulliver’s Travels” is a classic example. Beneath its fictional worlds and absurd rulers lay a sharp critique of political systems and human authority, expressed in metaphor because direct language carried risk in its time.

Allegory became the language of survival.

Then, as now, people turned to satire and allegory not out of comfort, but out of caution and self-protection.

In recent years, individuals who raised sensitive political or constitutional questions faced investigations or legal consequences.

The case of activist Ali Abdul Jalil, who later left Malaysia and sought asylum in Sweden, is frequently cited in this context.

Walking on eggshells

Whether one agrees with his views is secondary.

The constitutional issue is the perception such cases create: that certain topics carry consequences beyond normal political disagreement.

When that perception spreads, speech does not disappear. It narrows.

Ordinary citizens who raise complaints involving powerful individuals or sensitive institutions often find themselves unsure of the consequences of speaking out, not only about their complaint, but about themselves.

Some cases proceed. Some stall. Some disappear.

What matters is not consistency, but perception: that some lines feel riskier to cross than others.

And where that perception takes hold, participation shrinks.

In pre-revolutionary France, criticism of royal authority could lead to imprisonment or accusations of treason.

The problem was not only suppression itself, but the absence of safe, legitimate channels for grievance.

Over time, unresolved pressure did not disappear. It accumulated.

Systems that cannot absorb criticism do not become stronger. They become brittle.

Tensions will continue unless resolved

This is why the Puad episode matters, not because of Puad himself, but because of the pattern it reflects.

A constitutional question is raised. It becomes personal. Then moral. Then political. Then it disappears.

The immediate issue is contained. The underlying ambiguity remains, but it will return, disguised in another case and another controversy.

Puad may be right. He may be wrong. He may be acting from conviction or calculation, but none of that resolves the issue, because the problem is not the individual.

It is the absence of a shared, explicit understanding of how constitutional monarchy and political authority interact in practice.

So, until that question is addressed openly, this will repeat with different names and different triggers, albeit with the same structure.

Constitutional ambiguity does not disappear when avoided, but it returns when tested.

The moment the debate became centred on Puad the man, the constitutional question had already been lost.

Unsurprisingly, we end where we began. With Puad.

The trader can charge what he likes if he complies with the requirement that the consumer knows the price he must pay. Hence, a price tag or a list of prices (including restaurant menus) will suffice.

So, Ng’s charade of “stop the price increases” must stop. It is best left to the adage “caveat emptor” - let the buyer beware.

Ng said the state’s order was not intended to impose price controls but rather to encourage ethical business practices and prevent excessive profiteering, particularly in premises that benefit from public support and subsidised facilities.

“If operating costs are reduced through government assistance, they should keep prices under control and, where possible, offer more affordable prices to attract customers,” Ng said when winding up the debate at the assembly.

Then again, who and what defines “excessive profiteering”?

Does state govt have the power?

While councils can issue summonses for littering or hygiene breaches, only gazetted officers from the Domestic Trade and Consumer Affairs Ministry have the statutory power to investigate and prosecute price-related offences. Council staff are legally toothless on this issue.

If Ng’s announcement is aimed at placating Selangorians over the recent boo-boos, including those planned segregation of rubbish, restrictions on non-Muslim places of worship, and the de-gazettement of forest reserve, it will not work.

But then again, who can forget Ng’s role on the issue involving the privatisation of street parking in four districts in Selangor? Didn’t he utter a series of fibs to defend the unpopular decision before the truth emerged?

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If Ng believes this announcement will placate Selangorians, he is gravely mistaken. The rakyat have not forgotten the past debacles.

This sudden concern over prices feels less like economic policy and more like a desperate attempt at damage control to distract from a sinking credibility scorecard.

When demands for the four DAP exco members to explain their roles in approving such draconian regulations are met with resounding silence, grandstanding about food prices rings hollow.

Grandstanding not working

Ultimately, the state’s grandstanding on the so-called “excessive profiteering” is not a genuine consumer protection strategy; it is a populist distraction that undermines market confidence and insults the intelligence of the people.

In a free market, price tags and menus aren’t just labels - they are built-in safeguards. They empower consumers with the transparency they need, making regulation redundant.

By posturing over a 60 sen glass of water while remaining muted on substantive governance failures, Ng is not defending the poor; he is merely doing it for the headlines.

Selangorians are knowledgeable. They understand that a government that cannot manage parking, forestry, or religious harmony has no business dictating what a stall should charge for rice and curry.

If the exco truly wants to prevent "excessive" behaviour, it should start by curbing its own excessive appetite for populist distractions.

Because when silence falls on real issues, and noise rises on non-issues, the ballot box has a sharp way of restoring balance - and that is one price the politicians know that they cannot afford to ignore.

Ng Suee Lim, the state exco for local government, then claimed that the policy on halal and non-halal waste separation in Selangor has been around since 2010.

He explained that due to “confusion and questions”, its implementation will be “reviewed” to ensure that they are “more practical, clear, and in line with current needs”.

The review will include “getting views from NGOs, industry players, local councils, and relevant agencies”.

Yet, the question remains, why did the four DAP state exco members not object to this silly policy? And is the government only seeking views from stakeholders after the rubbish has hit the fan?

Deeper problems

Malaysians generate around 8.3 million metric tonnes of food waste annually, or roughly 260kg per person. Food waste makes up 40 percent to 45 percent of all daily waste sent to landfills. No wonder garbage disposal is big business.

I see many Malaysians, including Muslims, leaving lots of perfectly good food uneaten at cafes. They don’t even bother packing it to eat at home.

Yet in Islam, wastage is a sin, and offenders are deemed as “relatives of Satan”.

I wish that halal was something that unites us - as a symbol of quality, like say the “organic” label.

Halal is supposed to mean compliance with Islamic principles of hygiene. But what about halal restaurants that are dirty? Or halal food packed with harmful preservatives and nitrates?

Most importantly, are we getting bogged down in micro details while missing the big picture?

Former minister Rafidah Aziz said in 2024 that authorities should focus on combating corruption, which was “non-halal money”, instead of “causing inconvenience” by enforcing rigid halal rules.

Thus, rather than getting fixated about halal garbage, we should examine if politicians, top civil servants, plus corporate/GLC leaders got their wealth in halal or haram ways.

Legislate against unexplained riches

Former Klang MP Charles Santiago said this can be done easily if the government has an Unexplained Wealth Law (UWL). 

So if a civil servant with a RM10,000 salary has seven luxury cars and two huge mansions, the UWL can compel such jokers to explain how they acquired such massive assets.

If they cannot justify it, the government can quickly seize illicit wealth without dragging cases forever in court, said Charles. This will stop the “systemic corruption among the elite”.

But I do wonder if his strong, uncompromising stands were what caused DAP to drop him as the Klang parliamentary candidate in the 2022 general election, even though he was an immensely popular MP?

Authorities have every right to spend immense time and effort checking cafes for the slightest mistakes on their halal status, for example, a menu listing “hot dogs”.

But perhaps more energy should be spent on doing “halal tests” on suspected corrupt wealth using a UWL.

After all, the biggest threats to Muslims and Malaysians are the 3Rs of “rempit, rokok, rasuah” - reckless motorcyclists, smoking, and corruption.

These 3Rs are what really harm lives, health, and society - not the other R - a lack of halal rubbish bins.

Many Indians voted for reform. What they received was often administration. They voted for transformation. Too often, they got management. They voted for structural change. Too often, they got announcements.

These are not questions born of hostility. They are questions born of disappointment. There is a difference. Criticism is not betrayal. Accountability is not disloyalty.

Democracy demands that citizens ask difficult questions of those who seek their votes. And Indians must ask those questions now more than ever. Because one of the greatest mistakes any community can make is becoming a guaranteed vote bank.

The moment politicians believe your vote belongs to them automatically, they stop earning it. They begin assuming it.

And when votes are assumed, accountability disappears. Politicians start believing that symbolic gestures are enough. A speech here. A photo opportunity there. A committee. A task force. An announcement. A promise. Another promise. And another.

Meanwhile, communities continue struggling with the same challenges year after year.

Influence in democracy

There is another reality we must confront honestly. Today, Indian Malaysians make up roughly 6.5 percent of the population. Some hear that figure and see weakness. I see leverage.

In a democracy, influence is not merely a matter of numbers. It is a matter of organisation, participation, purpose and vision. A community that votes strategically, builds institutions and contributes to national life can exercise influence far beyond its numerical size.

But we must also confront an uncomfortable reality. We may not always be 6.5 percent. One day, we may be five percent. Perhaps less. When that day comes, our future will not depend on how many we are. It will depend on how organised we are.

That is why the next generation matters so profoundly. Young Indian Malaysians cannot afford political apathy. They cannot afford to withdraw from public life or believe that their voices do not matter.

They must become entrepreneurs, professionals, academics, innovators, civil servants, community leaders and elected representatives. They must organise, participate and lead.

The future will not be secured by nostalgia for what previous generations achieved. It will be secured by what young Indians build from this moment onward.

Selva built platforms. Our younger generation must build power.

The question facing us is therefore not whether our community will become smaller. The question is whether it will become stronger.

Selva understood this. As a visionary leader, he understood results and outcomes. He knew that intentions alone do not build companies and communities. Vision alone does not create jobs. Good speeches do not generate wealth. Only execution does.

The same applies to politics. Governments should not be judged by slogans. They should be judged by outcomes: How many businesses were created? How many young people were empowered? How many opportunities were opened? How many barriers were removed? How many institutions were strengthened?

These are the measurements that matter.

Because the future of Indian Malaysians cannot depend on political patronage. It cannot depend on waiting for favours. It cannot depend on hoping that someone else will solve our problems.

It must be built upon entrepreneurship. It must be built upon education. It must be built upon economic participation. It must be built upon institutions.

Vote as investment

That was Selva’s vision. He believed in connecting people. He believed in creating opportunities. He believed in building networks that could help future generations succeed. He understood that economic empowerment is not a luxury. It is the foundation of dignity.

A community that controls its own economic destiny speaks with confidence. A community that depends entirely on others speaks with uncertainty.

And so, as we approach the next general election, I believe Selva would have asked these questions: Who is building institutions? Who is helping small businesses grow? Who is investing in entrepreneurs? Who is creating opportunities for young people?

Who understands that communities need empowerment rather than dependency? Who is thinking about the next generation rather than the next election? Who is prepared to do the difficult work of nation-building instead of merely campaigning?

Those are the questions that matter. Not personalities. Not slogans. Not tribal loyalties. Not fear.

For too long, Indian Malaysians have often been encouraged to vote out of fear. Fear of one coalition. Fear of another coalition. Fear of instability. Fear of losing what little we have.

But fear has never built a school. Fear has never built a business. Fear has never created wealth. Fear has never transformed a community. Only vision can do that. Only leadership can do that. Only courage can do that.

This election, our votes matter not because politicians need them. Our votes matter because our future depends on how we use them.

Every vote should be treated as an investment. And like every investment, it should demand returns. Not in the form of handouts. Not in the form of tokenism. Not in the form of symbolic recognition. But in the form of genuine opportunities.

Selva did not spend his life building Gopio so that future generations could become spectators. He built it because he believed Indians could be participants. Builders. Employers. Leaders. Institution-makers.

The “other Malaysia” does not have to remain the “other Malaysia”. But that will require courage. The courage to ask difficult questions. The courage to reject empty promises.

The courage to demand accountability. The courage to think beyond the next election. And the courage to take responsibility for our own future.

Because in the end, communities are remembered for what they created. They are remembered for what they left behind.

Selvarajoo Sundram built. The question before us is simple: Will we?