We feel taken for granted, as the cynical calculation has been that we have nobody else to vote for, since PAS is worse. Meanwhile, DAP is a Dilemma Action Party caught between reform demands and Malay racial politics.

But now, Rafizi has launched Bersama, which offers a real alternative for all races. To use the lingo of cowboy movies, there’s a “new sheriff” in town.

Sky-high medical insurance

Hot racial issues have grabbed attention, but I am more worried about the creep and creepiness of big money on government policy. For example, why is medical insurance skyrocketing under the Madani government?

An overview in The Edge summed up the sad situation: government officials, private hospitals and insurance companies all blame each other. Hospitals point to insurers’ higher profits. Insurers accuse hospitals of jacking up bills. Both blame “global medical cost inflation”.

Doctors have told me that even if some of their colleagues want to be honest, private hospitals pressure them to “boost revenue” with KPI’s on ordering MRIs, CT scans etc.

Given such profiteering, we expect Putrajaya to step in as a guardian of public interest. But what if health industry towkays have made “political donations” to influence policy?

This is notorious in the United States, where big health corporations have given huge legal bribes called “campaign contributions” to ensure that medical bills stay sky high.

But surely, such a disease has not affected our “highly moral” Madani government?

Well, let’s see. A law was proposed to stop the sale of cigarettes and vapes to youths born after Jan 1, 2007. Yet, the deputy health minister admitted that lobbying by the tobacco industry killed this proposal.

Money politics

Umno is infamous for money politics, but it may have infected PKR too. Rafizi revealed there is a culture of “kepit beg duit bawah ketiak” (clutching a money bag under the armpit) when going round to buy support.

To combat this disease, he explained that Bersama will be the first party with a constitution where leadership must be based on merit and hard work, not goodies given out.

But there is a “deep state” in Malaysia of powerful vested interests which is resistant to change. Can that be overcome?

Perhaps that’s why Bersama has announced a rather modest 12-point agenda that includes free preschools for children, more government doctors to reduce waiting times and improvements in education.

These are technocratic issues and won’t really dethrone the deep state, but the 12 points will really help people. So, it's doable.

I believe Bersama has competent and committed leaders to achieve this – unlike our education minister, who rushed to start “Pendidikan Karakter” after cases of school rapes and bullying.

But can Bersama even win? Rafizi has said they are on a “kamikaze mission”, and it doesn’t matter if they all lose.

For me, what’s crucial is that we finally have a party to pressure Harapan to do more progressive reforms, rather than bending over backwards to please Umno, which has betrayed Madani in Johor and Negeri Sembilan.

Kingmakers in hung Parliament?

Rafizi, Nik Nazmi and eight other PKR MPs in his camp already have 10 seats. This number could swell because the huge group called Pamu (Parti Aku Malas Undi ie non-voters) was 24 percent of the electorate in 2022.

They could be energised to go to the polls and drive Bersama to victory in 15 to 25 mixed seats.

This will put the party in a “kingmaker’s position” because the next elections are not expected to have a clear winner, given the multi-cornered fights involving Umno/BN, Harapan, PAS and Bersatu, which have “berpecah” (broken up) with Hamzah Zainudin’s faction.

In that scenario, Bersama can insist that any coalition they join must do certain reforms, just as small groups like the Green Party of Germany have done. The party would live up to its kancil or mousedeer logo of outwitting bigger opponents.

If DAP decides to walk out of the Madani government at their upcoming July congress, they may want to ask: do they want to sink with a tainted Anwar? Or find alternatives?

Some people say Rafizi is clever but arrogant. But I prefer “sincere sombong” to “charming cunning”. Former Singapore prime minister Lee Kuan Yew was also arrogant, but he got the job done.

Half of Malaysians are under 31. But the leaders of PAS, PKR and Bersatu are all around 79 years old. Will they take short-term moves to stay in power, without bothering about future problems after they have passed on?

The ultimate dream is of a new wave to sweep away our worn-out politics. The launch of Bersama focused on Gen Z, Gen Alpha and new solutions.

Rafizi himself has cited how voters who wanted true change have propelled various reformists to surprising victories over the status quo. These include Zohran Mamdani in New York, Move Forward in Thailand and recently, Joseph Vijay’s TVK party in Tamil Nadu.

Do we dare to dream of something bigger than voting for the “least bad” option?

This is not about “cowardice” but rather how the state wants citizens to practise self-censorship. Khairy knows this. Journalists know this, and you better believe that academics know this.

International Islamic University Malaysia (IIUM) academic Syaza Shukri said, “Even something minor, perhaps just an objective question that we genuinely want to understand, or maybe even a complaint from outside, can be turned into a 3R (race, religion, and royalty) issue.”

Actually, her statement echoes what PKR MP Hassan Abdul Karim had lamented, that the 3R ban is masking the systemic dysfunction when it comes to the kind of crony capitalists orbiting Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim.

“These people seem to enjoy immunity and cannot be touched due to the 3R ban,” Hassan reportedly said.

Every policy decision is based on the 3Rs; it is just that people who disagree with the 3Rs should not talk about it.

From Anwar to PAS president Abdul Hadi Awang, political operatives using the 3Rs for political purposes are not sanctioned by the state.

But if you are the unlucky dissenter who points out that the 3Rs are part of the problem, then the state comes down on you like a ton of bricks.

Impractical, difficult to monitor

Look, all governments want the rakyat to practise self-censorship. Two years ago, as reported in the press, Fahmi Fadzil “…told participants to behave themselves, warning that they were being ‘monitored by authorities’ and may be visited by the police”.

When Fahmi claimed that it was a miscommunication about watching your words and being monitored by the authorities, National Human Rights Society (Hakam) president M Ramachelvam said: “As the communications and digital minister, he should have used his position to answer the comments left by viewers rather than to say the authorities will come after them.

“Threats by government ministers against freedom of expression leave a negative perception of the government (which has a duty) to uphold this fundamental constitutional right guaranteed to citizens.”

And all this is not new. Fahmi is just echoing what then-communications and multimedia minister Salleh Said Keruak said nearly a decade ago.

“It is impractical and difficult to monitor or control a user’s access to the massive amount of content found online. So, it is left to us, the user, to exercise self-censorship and to verify all news shared over our social media feeds.”

At one time, legacy media practised self-censorship as some sort of misguided idea of nation-building - at least, that’s what they told us. Indeed, all instruments of colonial legislation were and are used to stifle every facet of Malaysian public life.

Former prime minister Dr Mahathir Mohamad once said, "When I was the prime minister, there was press freedom, but it is the media itself who did self-censorship, as if they didn't want to hurt leaders' feelings. This is the habit that we have in Malaysia.”

Which sounds civilised, as if the media were not operating under the possibility of the Internal Security Act or a history of state intervention into the so-called “Fourth Estate”.

Insidious kind of censorship

Self-censorship is the most insidious kind of censorship, because its coerciveness becomes voluntary - this is how we become complicit in our own subjugation.

Then again, self-censorship has a karma-like effect - especially here in Malaysia.

This is best illustrated when Mahathir bemoaned the fact that, “Soon after (Abdullah Ahmad Badawi took over as PM), I was cut off from the press... reporters were not allowed to interview me... and they were not allowed to print anything I said.”

Remember the so-called media blackout on the e-hailing driver episode? Deputy Communications Minister Teo Nie Ching played coy about self-censorship by some of the media, “It (ordering media to censor) never happens on my level. I never heard about the so-called government orders.”

Apparently, it was all “internal decisions”.

Gerakan Media Merdeka (Geramm) spokesperson Radzi Razak had the perfect response when asked by Malaysiakini about Teo’s comment.

“Let’s not pretend that there are no ‘friendly texts or calls’ to the editors from someone in the office of the powers that be. Let’s not pretend writers and publishers are not being ‘gently’ reminded of how a story or headline should be written by someone not in the industry.”

No sanctions

But here is the important part. Self-censorship only extends to speech and ideas that the state deems offensive. Ideas that seek to reinforce the narrative of racial and religious superiority are enabled by the state.

This means that politicians, preachers, and academics who conform to hegemonic ideas or religion and race are free to say what they want, and there are no sanctions by the state.

Take this PAS-led, Umno-endorsed Daulat Tuanku rally. Keep in mind that PAS has gone against the diktats of the Selangor sultan and Umno over the decades, and has curtailed the power of the royalty.

But of course, this kind of hypocrisy is par for the course for these types of religious people. The fact that the mainstream Malay establishment and the royal institution say nothing about this hypocrisy should tell rational people what this game is all about.

Meanwhile, progressive voices and those who seek to nurture democratic or secular values are punished by the state, and more often than not. resort to self-censorship for personal and economic safety.

It is easy to be brave when you have the protection of the state.

Vaibhav Suryavanshi’s journey could not be more different. From a small town in Bihar, it is an experience that is less about solitude and more about sacrifice. His parents believed in his passion when many families would have steered their children toward studies and safe careers.

His father, Sanjeev, made immense sacrifices, ferrying him to training 100km on a scooter three times a week. His mother woke at 4am daily to prepare meals so her son could devote himself fully to cricket.

At five, Vaibhav practised at the doorstep; at seven, he joined Samastipur Sports Academy under coach Brijesh Jha. Later, his father’s long rides to Patna ensured he received advanced training.

The family faced financial crises, but they never gave up. Their belief carried Vaibhav forward. Turning 13 two years ago, he made history as the youngest player ever picked in an Indian Premier League auction, snapped up by the Rajasthan Royals for RM420,000 after a bidding war.

These days, he is worth much more. Sponsors are standing in line; his rewards have escalated, and rightly so.

Now 15, having already made headlines in the Under-19 World Cup (scoring 175 in the final against England), he is on the cusp of making the senior team and history.

Grit and faith

Together, these stories teach us that there is no single formula for success. Yashasvi’s rise was carved out of hunger, hardship, and self-belief.

Vaibhav’s ascent was nurtured by parental sacrifice and unwavering support. One story is about resilience in solitude; the other is about the power of family.

Stories like those of Yashasvi and Vaibhav (who are now millionaires) show young athletes that success is not reserved for the privileged few. Yashasvi’s hunger and resilience prove that even without resources, discipline and obsession can carve a path forward.

Vaibhav’s journey highlights how parental belief and sacrifice can transform raw talent into opportunity. For local players, these examples are more than cricket tales - they are blueprints for perseverance and support systems that can make dreams possible.

For our communities, the lesson is clear: nurturing local talent requires both individual grit and faith from those around them.

Coaches, parents, and mentors can play the same role Jwala did for Yashasvi, or Vaibhav’s parents did for him.

By investing time, encouragement, and resources - even in small ways - local athletes can be lifted from obscurity to recognition. These episodes remind us that talent exists everywhere; what matters is creating the conditions where belief and hard work can meet, and winners can emerge.

But the conclusion is the same: when hard work meets belief - whether self-belief or parental belief - there is always a winner. Cricket may be the backdrop, but the lesson stretches far beyond the boundary ropes.

Local talents

In every field, every art, every pursuit, success is not about replicating someone else’s path. It is about finding the fuel - whether hardship or support - that powers your own.

And that is why these tales bear repeating. They remind us that greatness is never accidental. It is forged in tents and on scooters, in hunger and in hope. It is built on sacrifice, discipline, and belief. And when those forces collide, the scoreboard eventually lights up with victory.

For young Malaysians, the challenge is whether they are ready to embrace the same hunger and discipline. Yashasvi’s solitude and Vaibhav’s family sacrifice show two paths to the same destination - proof that talent alone is never enough.

Local players must ask themselves: are they willing to endure the grind, the early mornings, the sacrifices, and the setbacks? Are parents, coaches, and communities prepared to back them with the same faith and support?

Malaysia has no shortage of raw talent. What it often lacks is the infrastructure of belief - mentors who spot promise in the shadows, families who dare to invest in passion, and institutions that nurture rather than neglect.

If Malaysians can combine grit with support, hunger with hope, then the next great story need not come from Mumbai or Bihar. It can be written right here, on Malaysian soil.

Mahathir was adamant that he did not know of Najib’s malfeasances, dismissing allegations as rumours, which, strangely enough, is something that Madani does when confronted with evidence of corruption within the ranks of Madani.

This, of course, does not take into account the various discharges not amounting to acquittals which have been granted to fellow travellers on the Madani road.

Then again, corruption allegations always seem to be swirling around the prime minister’s men in this country. Mahathir claimed that he only ever heard rumours about Najib’s corruption.

Now, of course, with the corporate mafia, allegations against various aides and an assortment of holdovers from previous Umno regimes, the current prime minister hears no corruption but, more importantly, sees no corruption, while the state goes after individuals deemed a threat to the natural Madani order of things.

Selective prosecutions, even if those targeted are corrupt, do not detract from the very obvious failings of the graft-busting agency and the political apparatus.

Hand in gravy train

Anwar was recently crowing about Madani’s strong bumiputera agenda. As reported in the press, ”… Anwar added that the responsibility of advancing the bumiputera agenda has also been entrusted to the deputy prime minister…” which raises two points.

The first is that Umno still has its hand on the direction of the gravy train, which would make it easier to sustain the political party. The second is that all these state-sponsored programmes, which are supposed to benefit the bumiputera community, will not have the desired effect because of incompetence and leakages.

Former prime minister Ismail Sabri Yaakob has admitted that the vast bureaucracy had carried out all those poverty alleviation programmes and nobody had any idea about their effectiveness – “… that hitherto many ministries had programmes on poverty alleviation but there was no specific monitoring on their effectiveness.”

Not because monitoring these programmes would mean transparency, but because many of these programmes were part of the gravy train driven by bureaucrats, political operatives and their various proxies.

Umno was never really for the Malays, but rather, they were for Umno. Memories of some are short, but I remember when former Kota Raja Umno chief Amzah Umar revealed: “We give a seven percent discount for bumiputera buyers and 12 percent for Umno members, if I am not mistaken.”

Enslaving, not emancipating

Every “Malay” politician is acutely aware that championing the “Malay” cause does not mean emancipating the Malay community but rather enslaving them.

Of course, nobody thinks they are enslaving their community but carrying out so-called favourable policies meant to protect their community from the “others”.

Why do you think that Madani wanted something like the failed Urban Renewal Act? Instead of local council elections, which act as a check and balance to a whole range of issues and where communities determine what is needed in the places they live, we get the URA, which concentrates power in the government and where back channelling, backroom deals and corporate malfeasance get a fig leaf of legality.

This is why PSM wants the focus back on holding local council polls.

Do you know why Malay uber alles politicians play the race card when it comes to local council polls? They want to destroy democratic opportunities where the Malays, especially if they are a minority in certain areas, understand that their welfare is safeguarded by a non-Malay majority.

And that right there is the problem. The establishment is defined by how it wants to destroy democratic opportunities for the Malay community, not to mention curtail independent thought, because such freedoms would jeopardise the political elites.

By mainstreaming a racial supremacist policy, the majority community has trapped itself in a Gordian knot.

It is not about uniting the Malays. It is about keeping them under your boot.

Bangsa Malaysia is not a slogan. Nor is it an attempt to erase ethnic, cultural, or religious identities. Malaysia’s diversity is a historical reality and a national asset.

Bangsa Malaysia means building a higher and shared national identity that binds Orang Asli, Malays, Chinese, Indians, the indigenous peoples of Sabah and Sarawak, and other ethnicities into one national community. It means seeing ourselves first and foremost as Malaysians, while remaining proud of our respective cultural and religious inheritances.

This idea is not new. It is rooted in the aspirations of our founding fathers and the Malay rulers at the dawn of independence.

The constitutional framework that emerged from the 1956-57 intercommunal bargain reflected a delicate but principled balance. It recognised the special position of the Malays as the “definitive people” of the land, while safeguarding the legitimate interests of other communities.

It also envisaged a future in which Malaya, and later Malaysia, would evolve towards greater fairness, inclusivity, and national unity.

Aspirations of political figures

It is worth recalling the words of Dr Ismail Abdul Rahman, one of Malaysia’s finest statespersons, who reportedly declared: “Kita bukan bermaksud untuk mendirikan sebuah Malay-Malaysia, tetapi Malaysia yang dipunyai serta diwarisi oleh semua warganegara tanpa mengira kaum dan agama” (We do not intend to establish a Malay-Malaysia, but a Malaysia that is owned and inherited by all citizens regardless of race and religion) (Utusan Malaysia, Aug 4, 1973).

That remains one of the clearest and most profound expressions of the spirit of Bangsa Malaysia.

Likewise, Nik Abdul Aziz Nik Mat, the longest-serving menteri besar of Kelantan, stood for a humane and inclusive understanding of social justice. He advocated that government assistance should reach all the poor, regardless of race (The Malaysian Insider, March 1, 2009). This is the kind of moral clarity Malaysia urgently needs today.

For the sake of future generations, Malaysia requires not merely reform, but a national reset and a profound mental revolution: from narrow communal politics to genuine national unity; from religious extremism to constitutional governance; from religious domination to mutual respect; from mediocrity to excellence; and from an obsession with numbers to a culture of quality, integrity, and competence.

The proposed vision, mission, and guiding philosophy for Bangsa Malaysia are outlined below. Together, they define the desired future state of our beloved nation, the key pathways towards attaining that vision, and the guiding principles for building a united, just, and forward-looking Malaysia.

But vision without implementation is mere rhetoric. The real question is: how do we put Bangsa Malaysia into action?

Steps towards unity

First, Malaysia needs a Bangsa Malaysia Action Group comprising respected multi-ethnic intellectuals, educators, historians, constitutional scholars, community leaders, youth representatives, religious leaders, professionals, business leaders, and civil society activists.

This group should not be party-political. Its role should be to develop practical programmes, public statements, educational materials, forums, videos, community dialogues, and policy proposals aimed at strengthening national unity.

Second, this action group should prepare a People’s Charter for Bangsa Malaysia - a concise declaration affirming constitutionalism, unity in diversity, religious moderation, fairness, shared prosperity, and equal national belonging. Malaysians from all communities should be invited to endorse it.

Third, we must reform how history is taught and understood. Our history must be truthful, inclusive, and evidence-based. It must recognise the contributions of all communities - Malays, Orang Asli, Chinese, Indians, indigenous peoples of Sabah and Sarawak, and other ethnic groups - to nation-building.

A selective, exclusionary, or distorted national narrative weakens unity and undermines national belonging. A truthful and inclusive history strengthens belonging.

Fourth, intercultural engagement must move beyond formal ceremonies. Malaysia should revive and reimagine neighbourhood-based unity groups, similar in spirit to Rukun Tetangga, but with a stronger focus on communal harmony, civic education, community service, and interfaith understanding.

These groups can organise neighbourhood meals, youth projects, cultural exchanges, history talks, sports activities, community clean-ups, and dialogues on shared Malaysian values.

Education, religion, and the economy

Fifth, schools and universities must become laboratories of Bangsa Malaysia. Students should be encouraged to participate in mixed-group projects, service-learning activities, heritage walks, debates, and inter-school unity programmes.

Young Malaysians must not grow up in ethnic silos. They must learn to see one another as fellow citizens with a shared destiny.

Sixth, religious and community leaders must play a constructive role. They should publicly reject extremism, hate speech, and communal demonisation. Places of worship can also become bridges of understanding by hosting interfaith visits, charity drives, and community solidarity programmes.

Seventh, economic justice must be pursued with wisdom and fairness. Affirmative action needs to be recalibrated to help all poor and marginalised Malaysians, regardless of ethnicity or religion, while recognising the special challenges faced by the Malays, Orang Asli, and the natives of Sabah and Sarawak.

Eighth, the media and social media influencers must help shape a new national consciousness. Short videos, articles, podcasts, posters, WhatsApp messages, and public campaigns should promote the idea that Malaysia belongs to all Malaysians.

We must make unity more compelling than division, and truth more powerful than propaganda.

Ninth, corporate Malaysia should support Bangsa Malaysia through workplace diversity, fair employment practices, leadership development, scholarships, internships, and community outreach. Companies must not merely speak of inclusion; they must practise it.

Finally, ordinary citizens must take ownership of this national project. Bangsa Malaysia begins in everyday life - in how we speak, how we vote, how we teach our children, how we treat our neighbours, and how we respond to divisive rhetoric.

Fundamental truths about our independence

Nation-building is not the responsibility of politicians alone. Indeed, we cannot depend entirely on politicians, many of whom remain trapped in communal calculations and short-term self-interest.

Right-thinking Malaysians from all communities must therefore come together with courage, wisdom, sincerity, and a shared sense of national purpose. We must reject narratives that divide and embrace values that unite. We must act with fairness, integrity, and respect.

Above all, we must recognise three fundamental truths about the intercommunal bargain of 1956-57 as clearly expressed in the 1957 Report of The Federation of Malaya Constitutional Commission.

First, our nation is meant to be secular. Second, the special position of the Malays, which was never meant to be permanent, should be reviewed from time to time. Third, there should be “no discrimination between races or communities” in the long run.

The time has come to move beyond rhetoric and rediscover the larger national purpose envisioned by our founding fathers and the Malay rulers.

Let us move forward together - not as fragmented communities defined by suspicion and fear, but as one people bound by a shared Constitution, common values, and a collective destiny.

In the final analysis, Malaysia’s future will not be determined by what divides us, but by whether we possess the wisdom and courage to strengthen what unites us.

The choice before us is clear: we can continue drifting through communal politics and national uncertainty, or we can rise together with clarity, conviction, and purpose to build a truly united, just, and progressive Bangsa Malaysia.

Let us choose wisely – for ourselves, for our children, and for generations yet unborn.

Khoo’s comments did not go unnoticed because his former student, Rachel Leow, wrote him an open letter, which went viral. She was a PhD student at Cambridge, and she dared to correct him.

Umno policies of the 1980s-1990s shaped institutional behaviour. Public narratives were tightly controlled. Some were encouraged, others were treated cautiously, and those that generated controversy were banned. Self-censorship and silence became the new norm.

So when people ask why historians appear silent or restrained, the answer they give is not just fear. It is also because of structure.

Post 1969, the political atmosphere punished perceived challenges to sensitive identity frameworks. In time, institutions naturally learned to operate carefully within those boundaries. Public history then took shape.

Non-Malay erasure

Take Kuala Lumpur.

Critics claim that Yap Ah Loy, one of the key founders of modern Kuala Lumpur, has been reduced to little more than a passing mention in school narratives.

The parents who complained about this distortion of our early history say this is not about one missing name. They worry about how stories get flattened over time.

The narrative promoted by some Umno leaders five decades ago was that non-Malays were relatively recent arrivals to the country, having come only within the last 200 years.

Critics argue that this framing ignored the much older presence of Chinese and Indian communities in the Malay peninsula as miners, traders, and spice merchants who arrived through the monsoon trade networks centuries earlier.

Then there is the deeper past.

Sites such as Bujang Valley in Kedah reflect a long archaeological history of trade, industry, settlement, and Hindu-Buddhist cultural influence in early Southeast Asia.

Had this heritage been more fully preserved and allowed to flourish, with its many artefacts and ancient structures protected, Malaysia might today rival historical treasures such as Angkor Wat in Cambodia or Borobudur in Indonesia.

To many observers, the lack of urgency in preserving these sites gave the impression that the authorities preferred not to draw too much attention to the country’s non-Islamic historical roots.

Furthermore, the Orang Asli are the original settlers of Malaya, but they remain as a mere footnote in history books.

Inheriting an environment of caution

What many parents and some teachers describe to me is not a conspiracy. It is a caution. Certain historical topics, especially those touching on identity, origin narratives, or competing interpretations of early civilisation, may not be discussed freely in institutional settings.

Not because it is formally forbidden, but because, over time, a culture develops where stepping too far outside accepted framing feels risky, unnecessary, or professionally unwise.

Khairy may have criticised historians, but academic caution is not the root problem. This pattern of silence among experts is not unique to history.

In mining, industry, and engineering, warnings about hill development, slope stability, radiation, and ecological risks are often raised early, and without drama.

Yet, those warnings frequently gain public attention only after a disaster forces visibility.

Then the same questions return: who knew, who warned, and why was it not acted on sooner?

The issue is not simply “cowardly professors”. That framing is too easy. It shifts attention away from the longer political and institutional history that shaped what could be safely said, and what could not.

Historians did not design that environment. They inherited it.

And when political actors now express frustration at historical confusion, the harder question is not why some academics are quiet, but how the boundaries of acceptable speech were formed in the first place, and by whom.

History is not only written in books.

It is shaped by political frameworks, institutional incentives, and the long shadow of national narratives, including “Ketuanan Melayu” as a defining feature of Malaysia’s post-independence political architecture.

This also includes public health policies, not to mention health policies for marginalised groups.

READ MORE: Budget cuts were proposals, health minister says

Think about this: every time the government, through one of its instruments, responds to every perceived slight, provocation, and engages in the persecution of individuals deemed detrimental to the well-being of the state, this costs money.

When the government enables programmes and individuals who stir resentment amongst the various ethnic communities in this country, this costs money.

Think about the money lost in leakages because of crony capitalism, on double or triple pensions of the political class, and inflated government projects. Think about the money lost when the government decides that it needs to spend tax ringgit to aid foreign victims of wars when the rakyat are grappling with vagaries brought upon by international geopolitics.

Galen Centre chief executive Azrul Khalib said, “The Health Ministry should not be treated as a convenient place to find savings. Health is a core public investment. It protects lives, productivity, economic stability, and social trust,” and this is the alpha and omega of this issue.

Every time you visit a public healthcare facility and notice the dilapidated condition of the buildings, keep in mind that successive governments did have the funds to maintain these structures, but instead diverted those funds to other projects deemed more important.

This is about priorities, and successive governments have demonstrated that they do not view healthcare in the same way they view other programmes that they believe will keep them in power.

The least well-off suffer

CodeBlue has done some remarkable coverage on this issue. If you think urban folks have it bad, think again.

Class determines the level of healthcare available, and again, the majority are “penalised” because more often than not, especially in rural areas, they are short-changed by the federal and local government, which have no problems sustaining projects which offer no tangible benefits but have no interest in providing quality healthcare.

In such circumstances, it is left to the ordinary rakyat to fend for themselves. Online, there are an inexhaustible number of stories of how healthcare workers from top to bottom are helping government hospitals or clinics with money from their salaries, which is not very much to begin with.

Rational people should question the need for government employees to use their own salaries to supplement the needs of a government facility, which is there to support the rakyat.

Instead, we have political shysters attempting to divide the rakyat on issues like a water festival, for instance.

This is the problem with Malaysia’s healthcare sector. We have the expertise and commitment to handle almost any situation. We also have competent people, but they have always been sidelined.

We also have the laws and tools necessary to deal with healthcare issues, but they have never been applied consistently and rationally.

Only someone ignorant of the realities in Malaysia would claim otherwise.

Different tune when in power

And you would think that Pakatan Harapan, which has at one time or another in their years as the opposition, would have a strategy when it comes to this country’s healthcare system.

But as always, once in power, they forget about the average Joe  Rakyat who relies on this system.

In 2023, Ipoh Timor MP Howard Lee, who, to be fair, is one of the more interesting candidates the DAP has to offer, fumbled with the issue of healthcare in an interview with CodeBlue, which is worth revisiting because it shows you how political operatives use this issue when they are not in power and how their tone and agenda change when they come into power.

Lee was arrogant when he said that he would not entertain “emotive questions”, but the reality is that healthcare for the majority of Malaysians is an emotive issue, whether you rely on public healthcare or are workers in the public healthcare system.

Life, death, or quality of life are emotional issues, so is public healthcare, and the funding of it should be sacrosanct.

There is a reason why the political elites and the enabled class play football with this issue. 

Unlike the rest of us, who rely on public healthcare, they have money to spend on private healthcare or are accorded VIP or privileged status when they use public healthcare.

It says something about our society when the healthcare budget is trimmed while the gross enabling of institutions which provide very little benefit to the average rakyat endure.

The issue of healthcare could be a real vote getter for Madani as it is in many countries, and more’s the pity that Madani does not understand this.

Even during the long dominance of the BN framework, executive authority depended on keeping coalition partners aligned, managing competing demands, and maintaining internal discipline through long-standing power-sharing arrangements involving parties such as MCA and MIC.

Constraint has always been there. It was just less visible.

What has changed after 2018 is not the constraint itself, but its structure. Political alliances are more fragmented, support is less predictable, and coalition partners are more assertive. What has changed is not power itself, but how it is used.

This is clear when we look at how coalition politics actually works. Before 2018, stability depended on alignment with parties such as MCA and MIC, where coalition discipline was maintained through established seat and cabinet arrangements.

Today, similar dynamics exist within coalitions such as Pakatan Harapan, involving parties such as DAP and others. The actors have changed. The logic has not.

This is not evidence of a weaker PM. It is evidence of a more fragmented political environment that requires constant balancing of competing interests.

Relying on East Malaysian support

The role of East Malaysian parties shows this clearly. Sabah and Sarawak have long held strategic importance in federal politics, often described as crucial to maintaining parliamentary majorities.

This was evident in earlier coalition arrangements as well as more recent government formations, where East Malaysian support has often been decisive in maintaining stability.

Their influence did not emerge after 2018; it has long been part of coalition politics. The phrase “fixed deposit” is not new. What has changed is visibility and negotiating flexibility.

Clearly, coalition complexity did not begin after 2018. Constraint has always been part of the system. What has changed is how fragmented and unstable it has become.

What looks like instability should not be mistaken for loss of authority.

The idea that leadership today is only about survival is overstated. Negotiation has always been part of Malaysian governance. The PM still appoints and dismisses ministers, sets priorities, and leads the executive branch, as seen in periodic cabinet reshuffles across different administrations.

These powers have not been reduced. What has changed is the political cost of using them.

The idea of a leader who simply “commands” also assumes earlier prime ministers operated with near-absolute control. That was never the case.

Even in the strongest period of BN dominance, prime ministers had to manage coalition partners such as MCA and MIC, balance Sabah and Sarawak interests, and navigate internal factional pressures within Umno itself.

Even at the height of Dr Mahathir Mohamad’s authority, the internal Team A and Team B split could not simply be commanded away. Leadership has always depended on maintaining support, not overriding it. In that sense, “command versus survival” is a false binary.

The power to award positions

Restraint should not be mistaken for incapacity. A leader who does not act quickly is not necessarily unable to act. In a more fragmented environment, decisions require more careful balancing. This does not remove authority; it changes how it is used.

The PM still has the authority to appoint, dismiss, and restructure the cabinet, but every use of that power comes with consequences that must be weighed carefully.

Removing a senior figure in a governing party, for example, is not a simple administrative step. It can trigger internal divisions, strain coalition relationships, and weaken broader policy goals. In such situations, restraint reflects calculation, not weakness.

At the same time, complexity cannot become an excuse for inaction.

Reform does not sit only with the executive. It must pass through Parliament, where debate, procedure, and politics decide whether policy becomes law. Leadership is not just about making decisions, but about ensuring they survive the process needed to implement them.

These pressures are made worse by economic conditions. Rising living costs, subsidy burdens, and global uncertainty leave little space for hesitation. Leadership must balance caution with direction, and negotiation with delivery.

See how accountability works. There is a recurring pattern where investigations begin under strong public pressure, but over time, lose visibility. Updates become less frequent, conclusions remain unclear, and outcomes are not always clearly communicated.

Cases such as MACC chief Azam Baki’s share ownership controversy illustrate how initial urgency can fade, leaving the public uncertain about the final resolution.

Institutions such as the MACC show how prolonged uncertainty can affect trust. When processes are delayed or outcomes unclear, the issue goes beyond individual cases and becomes a question of consistency and transparency.

Malaysia has not entered an era of powerless leadership. What it has entered is an era where power is more visible, more contested, and more demanding to exercise.

The system has not become less powerful; it has become harder to ignore.

The PM has not lost power; we have mistaken complexity for weakness, and the greater danger is a public too ready to believe that he has.

Zahid says Umno wants events to align with Malaysia’s cultural values, religious sensitivities, and society’s norms, and to uphold local customs and religious sensibilities.

He claims Umno took the concerns of the Federal Territories Islamic Religious Department and the Federal Territories Mufti Department, saying they reflect the views of a large segment of Malaysians.

“Our principles are clear - entertainment is not wrong, but it must come with limits. Progress must continue, but our values cannot be compromised,” he posted on Facebook.

Organisers, he added, should discuss future programmes with authorities to “preserve community harmony”.

Where was this deep concern for sensitivities and decency when Umno leaders were demonising opponents in the run-up to GE15? Where did these values disappear? Now, like worms out of the woodwork, they talk about community harmony.

Convenient shield

Then again, Zahid and Umno had fought and continued fighting for someone who stole billions and was found guilty, which reflects their interpretation of values.

Some were busy enriching themselves at the expense of the state. Where was the respect for the law then?

Politicians love to wrap themselves in culture and religion when it suits them. It’s a convenient shield to control what people watch, listen to, or enjoy - while their own conduct remains questionable at best.

If Zahid truly believes in “limits” and “harmony”, maybe he should start by cleaning his own house before telling musicians and concertgoers how to behave.

Respect for the law and common decency isn’t just about entertainment - it’s about those who make the laws and follow them. Until then, forgive me if I take Zahid’s call with a truckload of salt.

At the end of the day, the real confusion isn’t in kebayas, hot dogs, or water festivals -it’s in the selective morality of politicians who preach virtue while defending vice.

They clutch pearls over Oktoberfest and Bon Odori, yet clutch wallets when billions vanish from the state coffers. They warn of “limits” and “harmony”, but their own conduct has been limitless in hypocrisy and discord.

Zahid’s sermon on cultural values and religious sensitivities might sound noble, but it collapses under the weight of his party’s record.

Where was this moral compass when opponents were demonised before GE15? Where was this respect for law when leaders fought to protect a convicted thief? It is not festivals that erode harmony - it is the erosion of trust when leaders bend rules for themselves while tightening them for everyone else.

Behind the curtain

Politicians love to wrap themselves in religion and culture when it suits them. It’s a convenient cloak, shielding them from scrutiny while they dictate what ordinary Malaysians can watch, eat, or celebrate.

Yet, behind the curtain, the same guardians of morality are busy enriching themselves, trampling the very values they claim to defend.

If Zahid truly believes in “limits”, perhaps he should start by limiting corruption. If he truly believes in “harmony”, perhaps he should harmonise his party’s actions with the laws they claim to uphold.

Until then, every lecture on festivals and concerts is nothing more than theatre - a morality play staged by actors who long ago abandoned the script of integrity.

Respect for law and decency isn’t about banning kebayas or renaming Oktoberfest. It’s about lawmakers living by the standards they impose.

Until that happens, forgive me if I say that right-minded citizens will take Zahid’s sermon not just with a pinch of salt, but with a truckload.

The next time politicians warn us about “confusion”, we should remind them: the greatest confusion lies not in symbols or celebrations, but in leaders who mistake hypocrisy for values and propaganda for principle.

In February 2024, the Kajang Sessions Court imposed a fine of RM20,000, a penalty upheld by the High Court last June.

Let that sink in: with the intent to annoy. Not to incite riots. Not to threaten public order. To annoy.

The law does not distinguish between a malicious troll and a desperate neighbour. It does not ask whether the police genuinely failed the public.

It only asks whether someone felt annoyed or harassed by your words - and whether the content could be labelled “grossly offensive”.

That phrase, “grossly offensive”, has no fixed meaning. It means whatever the MCMC or a judge wants it to mean. And in a country where break-ins go unattended but critical videos draw swift prosecution, the message is clear: protect institutions, not citizens.

Judges’ ruling

Last week, the Court of Appeal brought clarity. A three-judge panel led by Noorin Badaruddin, together with Hayatul Akmal Abdul Aziz and Radzi Abdul Hamid, unanimously overturned the High Court’s ruling and acquitted Shahril.

Delivering the judgment, Noorin said that proving intent is a fundamental requirement in offences involving online communication. She said such intent must be supported by clear, credible evidence and cannot be inferred merely from how the content is perceived.

The panel found that the video in question was produced with the intention of informing residents about the status of a police report and urging faster action from the authorities, rather than to insult or provoke.

“The purpose of the communication was legitimate and cannot be equated with an intention to annoy or offend,” she said, adding that the context of the message must be considered as a whole.

“In this case, the evidence, particularly from the seventh prosecution witness, showed that the primary purpose of the appellant’s communication was to inform residents about the progress of a police report and to request that the investigation be expedited.

“The purpose of the communication was legitimate and cannot be equated with an intent to annoy or offend,” she said.

Rare crack in armour

When break-ins echo unanswered, but a neighbour’s plea is prosecuted, the law itself becomes the crime scene.

Section 233 is not a shield for citizens; it is a gag for dissent. Its elastic language - “grossly offensive”, “intent to annoy” - is less about justice than about convenience for those in power.

Shahril’s acquittal is a rare crack in that armour, a reminder that intent matters, evidence matters, and legitimacy cannot be criminalised. Yet the larger truth remains: in Malaysia, it is easier to punish a camera than to protect a community.

The police can ignore shattered windows, but the state will not ignore a video that shatters its image.

The law does not ask whether citizens are safe; it asks whether officials are annoyed.

It does not measure the failure of institutions; it measures the discomfort of those who run them. And in that transposal, justice is not blind; it becomes blinkered.

Shahril’s case should have been a turning point, a moment to admit that laws written to muzzle trolls are now muzzling citizens.

Instead, it exposed the deeper rot: a system where “grossly offensive” is whatever the authorities say it is, and “intent to annoy” is whatever they feel it to be. That is not law; that is discretion masquerading as justice.

The acquittal offers hope, but hope tempered by reality. For every Shahril who fights back, countless others will not risk the weight of the state. Fear settles in like a second shadow, and silence becomes the third.

Until institutions learn to protect citizens rather than themselves, Malaysia will remain a country where crime is tolerated, but criticism is punished. And that is the real offence - an offence against the very idea of justice.

PAS’ top leadership and various PAS adjacent groups have defied the royal institutions. This has become even more pronounced of late because Perikatan Nasional senses how weak Madani is.

Keep in mind that in 2022, when the Selangor sultan rebuked then-religious affairs minister Idris Ahmad and asked him to attend the Bon Odori festival “so that he can understand the difference between religion and culture”, what did PAS do?

Its ulama wing backed the religious minister, defying the sultan by saying, “The claim that (Bon Odori) was strictly a cultural event does not have enough merit.”

The quote that opens this piece demonstrates how Hadi believes that when it comes to religion, he knows better than constitutionally mandated instruments of government.

Paying lip service

The royal institution has been weaponised against the non-Malays by the Malay uber alles crowd.

Non-Malays genuflect whenever hot-button issues arise, and the royal institution is dragged into the political arena, normally siding with the very forces that want to have and have weakened its constitutional powers.

Meanwhile, so-called “Malay first” politicians pay lip service to the institutions but rouse the rabble against the institutions when it suits their purposes.

Bersatu president Muhyiddin Yassin said, “I take shelter under the greatness and nobility of the Malay rulers, and my loyalty to the institution of constitutional monarchy should not be questioned,” when questioned by the state security apparatus about insulting the former Yang di-Pertuan Agong.

And believe me, there was nothing lost in translation in the speech he gave, decrying that he was sidelined by the royal institution when he had the necessary votes to be in the driver’s seat of Putrajaya. But all this is not new.

Remember when a former prime minister blamed a certain person for Pakatan Harapan’s pulling out of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (Icerd)?

Who could forget this juicy tidbit from his press statement: “Jadi kita punya keputusan kabinet (our cabinet’s decision) this morning is that we will withdraw our ratification of the Statute of Rome kerana (because of) confusion, bukan kerana (not because) we believe it is going to be bad for us but because of the confusion created by one particular person who wants to be free to beat up people and things like that.

“And if he beats up people again, I will send the police to arrest him, I don’t care who he is.”

Keep in mind that Muhyiddin publicly declared that he rejected the Agong’s suggestion that his coalition form a unity government with Pakatan Harapan:

“Since the beginning, we already discussed that we will not cooperate with Harapan. No matter what the purpose is, we will not agree to it. So when I was asked to sign the offer letter, I signed ‘disagreed’.”

Royalty and political reality

Where was PAS during all of this? This horse manure about defending the royal institution is the kind of political skullduggery that PAS especially excels in.

The party is playing a deeper, sinister game. Theocrats around the world do not share power in the conventional sense. They allow certain legacy institutions to endure so long as those institutions give credibility and legitimacy to the religious party in control.

Keep in mind that religious extremists have always threatened the traditional institutions of power in various Muslim-majority countries.

The legacy institutions of power in this country understand that they are vulnerable to the political and religious malfeasance of religious political parties, which is why these institutions are caught between a rock and a hard place when it comes to their constitutional powers and theocratic impulses.

Sacred cows need to be slain by religious politicians because this will demonstrate not only the superiority of religion but also the faith of religious leaders.

This is not about whether you support the royal institution or not. This is about how these defenders of race and religion, in reality, have no respect for the institutions they claim to champion.

These are the same people who would use the royal institution as a hammer to whack recalcitrant Malays, and whack non-Malays whom they claim are disrespecting the royal institution, the Malays, and Islam.

Has a non-Malay politician ever done any of this to the royal institution? The threat to the royal institution has always come from the Malay uber alles crowd.

Former prime minister Dr Mahathir Mohamad used the royal institution when it suited his purposes, which was to bash the non-Malays, but then decried how giving too much power to the institutions resulted in the degradation of the democratic system and lamented the feudalistic nature of the dynamic in the majoritarian community.

In 2019, he spelt this out clearly, which is ironic because it is in a similar context to what Muhyiddin is fighting against now:

“Are we willing for this to continue? The rakyat is afraid of not serving the rulers, and when the rulers act beyond the Constitution, it is the rakyat who become the victims.

“This is the problem we have now. If we are willing to lose democracy and the parliamentary system, then let’s stop having elections.”

One could make the argument that this is exactly what the Seri Kembangan rep is doing. Upholding the tenets of democracy and the parliamentary system.

The damage has already been done, hasn’t it? However, the deeper issue is not this single case, nor any single institution. It is what the case reveals about the wider structure of welfare-linked fundraising and distribution.

Past allegations

Over the years, there have been occasional reports and investigations involving mismanagement within parts of the welfare and zakat-related ecosystem, including cases where allocations were disbursed to ineligible recipients or where administrative weaknesses were identified.

These cases vary in scale and context, but together, they point to a recurring challenge: ensuring consistent transparency across several layers of fund management.

Crucially, this is where the distinction becomes important.

Official zakat institutions, such as state religious authorities, operate within defined legal frameworks, undergo structured audits, and are subject to regulatory oversight.

However, the wider ecosystem of welfare-related fundraising, including NGOs, charitable intermediaries, and mixed donation channels, can be far more complex and less uniformly regulated.

When funds pass through multiple organisations before reaching recipients, each layer possibly operates under different levels of oversight. Without strong and consistent monitoring, transparency may weaken.

This creates a structural reality that is often overlooked.

It is not always about one system failing, but about multiple systems interacting with different levels of transparency and control.

So, when large sums are involved, such as RM230 million, the question naturally arises. How do funds of this scale move through welfare-linked structures without earlier detection or intervention?

This is not simply about wrongdoing. It is about system design.

Not a marginal figure

RM230 million is not a marginal figure. It is an amount that, under normal financial and governance expectations, should trigger multiple safeguards, like bank-level monitoring, organisational audits, regulatory scrutiny, and internal compliance mechanisms.

If gaps exist in that chain, then the concern is not only about misconduct, but about oversight fragmentation.

Zakat itself remains one of the most important instruments of social justice within Muslim communities.

It is a structured obligation designed to redistribute wealth, reduce inequality, and support those in need. When it functions effectively, it is stable, targeted, and quietly transformative.

However, the broader welfare ecosystem in which zakat, NGOs, and public donations co-exist is more complex.

Moreover, complexity without equivalent transparency creates vulnerability, not necessarily by intent, but it does result in oversight failure.

This is why the central issue is not classification. It is governance consistency.

The question is not whether zakat institutions are properly managed in isolation because they have stated frameworks and audit structures. It is about whether the entire ecosystem of welfare-linked giving is equally transparent, traceable, and resilient against misuse at every stage of fund movement.

When the system is fragmented, problems in one part can affect others through public perception and confusion. Once people begin to lose trust across different channels of giving, rebuilding that confidence becomes especially difficult.

This is why reform cannot be reactive or symbolic. It must be structural.

Firstly, transparency must be visible across the entire ecosystem, not just within individual institutions.

Second, fund flows must be traceable from collection to final distribution. Third, intermediary layers must be clearly regulated and audited.

Fourth, oversight must be independent, consistent, and publicly accountable.

Basic safeguards

These are not radical demands. They are basic safeguards for systems built on public trust and moral obligation.

Once trust begins to erode, recovery is slow and often incomplete.

In the meantime, those who are meant to benefit from these systems do not wait for clarification. They wait for assistance.

More importantly, the real question is no longer about one institution or one investigation. It is about whether welfare-linked and zakat-related systems are collectively designed to ensure that every ringgit reaches those it was meant for, without delay, diversion, or doubt.

If the answer is uncertain, then the responsibility is not only to investigate what has happened, but to strengthen the systems so that it cannot happen in fragmented form again.

Accountability is not criticism. It is protection. Thus, protecting zakat and the wider ecosystem of charitable trust is ultimately about protecting the people it exists to serve.