What You Think
Too young, too dumb to lead? — Shah Mohd Akmal Abdul Halim

NOVEMBER 13 — When Pakatan Harapan (PH) announced its young candidate for the Kuala Linggi state constituency in Melaka, public scepticism was almost instantaneous. Muhammad Mukhlisul Mubin Julasapiyah, a young law graduate, soon found himself at the receiving end of online ridicule, with social media users casually dismissing him as budak mentah, budak tak matang, budak tak ada pengalaman, budak tak tahu apa-apa. The familiar vocabulary of condescension, delivered with remarkable confidence by those who seem convinced that age is the ultimate measure of competence.

Once again, why are we so sceptical of the young? What exactly is wrong with someone in his twenties aspiring to represent his community? Since when has political maturity become the exclusive privilege of those who have spent decades occupying positions of authority?

Amanah president Datuk Seri Mohamad Sabu (left) spends time with Pakatan Harapan candidate for the Kuala Linggi state seat, Muhammad Mukhlisul Mubin Julasapiyah, during a Pakatan Harapan talk at Jalan Telok Gong, Pengkalan Balak, Alor Gajah on October 2, 2026. — Bernama pic

There is something deeply peculiar about Malaysia's relationship with its younger generation. We call them the nation's future, applaud their enthusiasm and eagerly enlist them to campaign for seasoned politicians. Yet the moment they aspire to power themselves, the applause gives way to suspicion. Apparently, young people are sufficiently mature to deliver votes, though somehow too immature to deserve them.

What troubles me most is the arrogance behind this attitude. Seniority has become a convenient substitute for intellectual authority. Experience is invoked as though it were a hereditary title, bestowed by time and immune from scrutiny. How, then, can we demand experience from young people while guarding every doorway through which experience is acquired?

History makes this prejudice difficult to defend. Nelson Mandela helped establish the ANC Youth League at 26. Sanna Marin became Finland's prime minister at 34; Jacinda Ardern led New Zealand at 37. At home, Najib Razak entered Parliament at 23, Nurul Izzah Anwar won Lembah Pantai at 27, and Hannah Yeoh entered the Selangor assembly at 29. Their legacies vary. Their youth never prevented them from entering the arena.

Syed Saddiq Syed Abdul Rahman offers a more immediate example. He became a federal minister at 25 and helped push Undi18 into law, enlarging the democratic space for an entire generation. In Muar, he turned to unconventional fundraising when resources were needed. His ThunderBOLD initiative raised RM196,668 for tablets for disadvantaged students. Critics called such efforts publicity stunts. Perhaps. Yet how many representatives who mock these methods can point to comparable ingenuity in serving their constituents? Political leadership should be measured by what it delivers, rather than its obedience to old habits.

Young leaders can bring urgency, technological fluency, intellectual curiosity and a willingness to question arrangements others have mistaken for permanent truths. Youth itself guarantees none of these qualities. Neither does growing old confer wisdom. And that is precisely why our reverence for political longevity is so troubling.

Are we seriously unmoved by the same political faces being recycled since the 1980s? The same feuds, the same manoeuvres, the same exhausted ideas dressed in the language of renewal. When experience hardens into complacency, it ceases to be an advantage. A country cannot think its way into the future with leaders who insist on living indefinitely in the past.

Take Marang. According to MyPoliticians' Hansard-based records, Abdul Hadi Awang, now 79, attended approximately 24 per cent of 249 Dewan Rakyat sittings recorded through March 2026. Attendance alone cannot capture every contribution or explain every absence, although such a record plainly invites accountability. Why are we so eager to interrogate a young candidate's hypothetical shortcomings while remaining curiously indulgent towards the measurable performance of established figures?

Malaysia should begin debating term limits and serious standards of legislative accountability. Even proposals for age-related restrictions deserve careful discussion, though any threshold must respect democratic rights and avoid replacing one prejudice with another. The essential principle is simple: public office should never become a lifetime reservation. Leadership requires fresh ideas, endurance and the humility to know when to make way.

I know the cost of this mentality personally. I became a lecturer at 26 and encountered a senior colleague who repeatedly doubted my ability without a credible basis. What made it harder to swallow was the air of superiority from someone whose own competence, to my mind, scarcely justified it. Eventually, I caught myself holding back, reluctant to excel because excellence seemed to provoke resentment. Imagine how many capable young Malaysians have learnt to make themselves smaller merely to keep someone senior comfortable. This is how institutions suffocate talent, quietly and then systematically.

Perhaps Sukarno understood something we have conveniently forgotten when he declared: “Beri aku 1.000 orang tua, niscaya akan kucabut Semeru dari akarnya. Beri aku 10 pemuda, niscaya akan kuguncangkan dunia.” His words captured the extraordinary transformative power of youth. Yet here we are, still questioning their capabilities, dismissing their potential and expecting them to remain in the shadows of their seniors. How can a nation aspire to progress when it remains so reluctant to trust the very generation that will inherit its future?

The least we can do is give them the opportunity to prove themselves. Let the young contest, lead and prove themselves. Judge their ideas, character and work. Malaysia has spent far too long asking whether the young are mature enough to lead. Perhaps it is time to ask whether the old guard is mature enough to make way.

* Shah Mohd Akmal Abdul Halim is a lecturer in the Department of Social Sciences and Humanities, College of Continuing Education (CCEd), Universiti Tenaga Nasional (UNITEN), and a PhD candidate at the Institute of Ethnic Studies (KITA), Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia (UKM).

** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.

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