NOVEMBER 7 — At the recent B57+ Business Leaders’ Summit in Istanbul, Türkiye, I had the opportunity to engage with business leaders, investors and policymakers from across the Islamic world. Our discussions centred on an important question: how can we better mobilise the enormous economic resources of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) to create greater prosperity for our people?

The OIC’s 57 member states represent more than two billion people, approximately one-quarter of the world’s population. Collectively, they generate around US$10 trillion in economic output. In 2025, their economies grew by 4.1 per cent, outperforming the global average.

These are formidable fundamentals. The Islamic world possesses substantial capital, abundant natural resources, young populations, strategic geographical advantages and increasingly sophisticated industrial capabilities. What struck me was not only the extraordinary potential, but also how much of it remains unrealised.

The central challenge is our collective ability to translate this potential into greater trade, productive investment and equitable prosperity for all.

An economic giant that remains underconnected

Consider one revealing statistic. In 2025, according to the Islamic Centre for Development of Trade, trade among OIC member states amounted to US$979 billion, representing just 19.57 per cent of their combined foreign trade, well short of the OIC’s own 25 per cent target. Approximately 80 per cent of trade was conducted with countries outside OIC.

There is nothing inherently wrong with diversifying partnerships, which remains essential to economic progress. However, these figures suggest that the Islamic world has yet to fully capitalise on its complementary economic strengths, including enormous financial resources, advanced industrial capabilities, growing consumer markets and substantial human capital.

Imagine the possibilities if these strengths were better connected through integrated supply chains, joint industrial ventures and stronger commercial partnerships. Our ambition should not simply be to enhance intra-OIC trade, but to create greater value together with fellow OIC economies.

Existing initiatives such as the Trade Preferential System among OIC Member States provide an important foundation. But agreements must translate into practical outcomes through improved connectivity, fewer trade barriers, harmonised standards and stronger business networks.

Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim at the 8th Extraordinary Islamic Summit of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC), held at King Abdul Aziz International Conference Centre November 11, 2023. — Bernama pic

Capital is available. Opportunities must be created.

The investment figures are equally instructive. Foreign direct investment (FDI) into OIC economies increased from US$148 billion in 2021 to US$220 billion in 2025. Yet momentum stalled in 2025, with inflows rising just 0.6 per cent and the OIC’s share of global FDI slipping to 13.5 per cent.

For a grouping representing a quarter of humanity, there is considerable room to do better. Sovereign wealth funds, institutional investors and private businesses across the Islamic world collectively command substantial capital.

What is often missing are sufficiently bankable projects, trusted institutions, regulatory certainty and effective mechanisms that connect investors with opportunities. This is where OIC cooperation must become more ambitious and practical.

We should explore stronger co-investment platforms among sovereign wealth funds, development institutions and private investors, particularly in infrastructure, renewable energy, digital technology, healthcare and food security. Islamic finance, including sukuk, can also play a larger role in mobilising long-term capital for productive investments.

We also need to move towards sharing technology, expertise, innovation and productive capabilities. The true measure of investment success must not merely be its dollar value, but the positive economic spillovers it generates: quality employment, technology transfer, stronger domestic supply chains and opportunities for local businesses.

Malaysia’s opportunity in a changing world

For Malaysia, the OIC’s untapped potential presents an important strategic opportunity. As a member of both the OIC and Asean, Malaysia occupies a distinctive position connecting the Islamic world with one of the world’s most dynamic economic regions.

Asean, with approximately 680 million people, attracted a record US$243.9 billion in FDI in 2025. Its growing manufacturing ecosystem, expanding consumer markets and integration into global supply chains offer considerable opportunities for OIC investors.

Malaysia can become an important gateway for capital from the OIC economies into Asean, while helping Malaysian businesses expand into new markets.

Our strengths in semiconductors, advanced manufacturing, halal industries, Islamic finance and the energy transition provide natural areas for cooperation. Such partnerships would diversify Malaysia’s sources of investment, expand market access and strengthen our economic resilience.

This is especially important as geopolitical competition intensifies, and global trade patterns become increasingly unpredictable. We cannot afford to depend too heavily on any single market, investment source or economic relationship.

This is precisely why continued engagement with business leaders and investors across the Islamic world matters. Having served as Malaysia’s Minister of Finance and Minister of Investment, Trade and Industry, I have seen firsthand that investment decisions often follow months, sometimes years, of engagement, negotiations and relationship-building. Agencies like Miti and Mida, together with our diplomatic missions abroad, undertake much of this important work.

Relationships and trust are built over time, not overnight, and, unlike actual investments, they rarely make the headlines. In a rapidly changing world, Malaysia must keep opening new conversations, and sustaining existing ones, with as many countries and business communities as possible.

Today’s conversation with a policymaker, business leader, or institutional investor may create tomorrow’s investment opportunity. Malaysia’s own economic experience reinforces this lesson. Over the past four years, under Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim’s leadership, greater policy consistency, clarity and institutional reform have strengthened investor confidence.

Advance estimates show our economy grew by 5.5 per cent in the first nine months of 2026, while net FDI increased by 41.2 per cent to RM65.9 billion in 2025. These outcomes demonstrate the importance of clear economic direction and credible institutions in navigating global uncertainty. This is the experience I shared with our OIC partners in Istanbul, while learning from their own successes.

Turning potential into better lives

To be sure, the OIC should not aspire to become an inward-looking economic bloc. Its greater ambition should be to strengthen cooperation among members while becoming a more competitive and influential participant in the global economy.

The Islamic world already possesses the population, capital, markets and resources to become a formidable economic force. What it needs now is to turn potential into productivity, capital into capabilities, and economic partnerships into lasting prosperity that benefits ordinary people.

That prosperity must also be shared within the OIC itself, where income per person ranges from as low as US$400 in some countries to roughly US$70,000 in others; Islamic social finance, from zakat to the Islamic Development Bank’s waqf-based Islamic Solidarity Fund for Development, can channel the Islamic world’s wealth towards those left behind.

For Malaysia, engaging the Islamic world is also about building new economic opportunities, diversifying our partnerships and securing our place in a rapidly changing world.

The opportunity is immense. The responsibility now is to realise it.

* Tengku Datuk Seri Zafrul Aziz is chairman of the Malaysian Investment Development Authority (Mida) and a former finance minister and investment, trade and industry minister.

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

NOVEMBER 6 — Climate change, energy security are amongst compelling factors attributed to several Asean member countries investing, considering to invest in and launch a nuclear power programme.

At the World Nuclear Supply Chain 2026 Conference co-organised by the World Nuclear Association (WNA) and the Department of Energy (DoE), Philippines held in Manila, Philippines on October 20-21, 2026, (Fig 1) Dr Sama Bilbao y León, Director-General of the World Nuclear Association (WNA) had highlighted the Nuclear Outlook for the Association of South-east Asian Nations (Asean). 

The World Nuclear Supply Chain 2026 Conference co-organised by the World Nuclear Association (WNA) and the Department of Energy (DoE), Philippines. — Picture courtesy of Sheriffah Noor Khamseah Al-Idid Syed Ahmad Idid

The South-east Nuclear Energy Outlook had highlighted that Philippines plans for 1.2GW nuclear capacity by 2032, 2.4 GW by 2035 and 4.8GW by 2050 followed by Vietnam with plans for 4GW nuclear capacity by 2034 and 14 GW in 2050, with Indonesia planning for 8GW by 2035, 21 GW by 2050 and 50-60 GW by 2060, and Thailand planning for 600MW nuclear capacity by 2037. (Fig 2)

It further lists that Mongolia, Myanmar, Laos, Malaysia, Singapore and Sri Lanka are planning or considering nuclear activities.

The SEA Nuclear Energy Outlook projects an overview of the four Asean member countries with concrete plans for introducing nuclear into their energy mix.

Dr Sama Bilbao y León, Director General of the World Nuclear Association (WNA) had highlighted the Nuclear Outlook for Asean at the World Nuclear Supply Chain 2026 (WNSC2026). — Picture courtesy of Sheriffah Noor Khamseah Al-Idid Syed Ahmad Idid

Dmitry Raspopine, CEO Rosatom (Vietnam) during his presentation titled Nuclear Afloat: Floating Power for Island and Coastal Markets had shared regarding the world’s first Small Modular Reactor (SMR), Russia’s Floating Nuclear Power Plant (NPP).

Dmitry Raspopine sharing about Russia’s Floating Nuclear Power Plant (FNPP). — Picture courtesy of Sheriffah Noor Khamseah Al-Idid Syed Ahmad Idid

Vietnam and Indonesia trailblazing Asean’s nuclear power ambition

Sheriffah Noor Khamseah Al-Idid Syed Ahmad Idid, a consultant on nuclear power, was invited by the WNA and DoE Philippines to speak on Nuclear Supply Chain had the pleasure to meet Dmitry Raspopine, Country Head (Vietnam) Rosatom at the WNSC 2026 in Manila (Fig 4) who had shared that a few days before the retirement of Vietnam’s Prime Minister Pham Minh Chinh, the premier visited Moscow Russia and had signed an intergovernmental agreement (IGA) with his Russian counterpart, Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin, on March 23, 2026, the first day of Chinh’s three-day visit to Russia.

Sheriffah had the pleasure to meet Dmitry Raspopine Country Head (Vietnam) Rosatom at the World Nuclear Supply Chain 2026 in Manila, Philippines. — Picture courtesy of Sheriffah Noor Khamseah Al-Idid Syed Ahmad Idid

The IGA had laid out the legal framework for the construction of two (2) Russian designed large nuclear power reactors VVER-1200 reactors modelled after Russia’s new Leningrad Units (Units 1&2 of Leningrad NPP-2) each of nuclear capacity of 1200 Megawatts (1200 MW) producing a combined capacity of 2,400 MW.

Russia’s state nuclear power corporation, Rosatom will construct Vietnam’s first nuclear power plant at its proposed site Ninh Thuan-1 Nuclear Power Plant.

The Diplomat in its issue March 24, 2026 had highlighted that Vietnam has signed a number of energy-related agreements with Russia, including one on the construction of a nuclear power plant in the country’s south as the country scrambles to address energy shortages caused by the conflict in the Middle East. The Diplomat further dovetailed that Chinh’s trip takes place against the backdrop of global oil supply crisis which has led to a spike in fuel prices in Vietnam; Petrol prices has risen by around 50 per cent and diesel prices by about 70 per cent in the country since the start of the conflict, which has choked off oil exports through the Strait of Hormuz.

This nuclear deal revives Vietnam’s previous nuclear energy plans which was shelved in 2016 due to a number of concerns including safety risks and “economic conditions”, to achieve energy security, development and net-zero targets.

Additionally, Dmitry Raspopine had also shared that on October 16, 2026, Indonesia and Russia had signed a historic agreement, the world’s first ever export agreement for electricity supplied by a floating nuclear power unit (FNPP).

The agreement signed on the sidelines of Russian Energy Week (REW) in Moscow between Russia’s State Corporation, Rosatom and Indonesian private sector firm PT Pembangkit Listrik Nuklir, backed by investor  Romo Nitiyudo Wachjo, will see the deployment of two FPU-100 Floating Nuclear Power units utilising RITM-series marine reactors (RITM-200M) (100MW each) providing a combined capacity of 200MW to supply electricity to the northern part of Halmahera Island in North Maluku Indonesia helping power local communities and Asia’s large nickel processing hubs.

The RITM-series reactor systems have demonstrated their efficiency, reliability and safety through years of operation aboard nuclear powered ice-breakers.

This unique partnership between Rosatom and Indonesia’s private sector relies solely on private investments with no state budget funding, with Rosatom owning and operating the plants and customers pay for the generated power.

Electricity supply is expected to begin within five years after the main contract terms take effect.

The World Nuclear News (WNN) dated October 19, 2026 had reported that in its discussion with Indonesia’s Government, Rosatom has proposed a two-phased approach to nuclear energy in Indonesia, with the first stage consisting of small scale floating nuclear power units, followed by a second phase involving land-based power plants equipped with large units.

Recommendations for Malaysian and Asean

1. In view of oil price hike arising from the geopolitical tension in the Middle east, Malaysia and other countries keen and are exploring nuclear power should expedite the exploration phase to deciding on the required nuclear capacity and year expected for commission and electricity generation advancing the nation’s nuclear power plans to nuclear power plants.

2. Asean member countries could adopt and adapt either Vietnam’s first Nuclear Power Plant (NPP) to consist of large units or follow Indonesia’s two stage approach of firstly introducing SMRs and then follow up with larger reactor units such as the case of Indonesia.

3. It is key for Asean to extend sources of financing nuclear power. And consider fully government financed, nuclear power projects, fully private financing model or PPP.

* By Sheriffah Noor Khamseah Al-Idid Syed Ahmad Idid, Consultant Nuclear Power, Venture Capital & Innovation

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

NOVEMBER 6 — The aftermath of the November 2026 American midterm elections is increasingly becoming a question not merely of who controls Congress, but how congressional power will be exercised against President Donald Trump during the remaining two years of his presidency.

The Democrats are preparing for an extensive investigative campaign that could reach into the White House, the President’s family businesses, his Cabinet, his political donors and even the technologies allegedly used in making sensitive national security decisions.

US President Donald Trump speaks in the Oval Office of the White House, Washington, DC November 5, 2026. — AFP pic

The investigative plots in Washington DC are therefore set to thicken rather than weaken.

What makes this development particularly consequential is the breadth of the proposed investigations.

The emerging congressional agenda goes well beyond the familiar controversies surrounding Trump’s conduct in office. 

It encompasses financial transactions, cryptocurrency, preferential access to market-sensitive information, foreign gifts, tariff exemptions and the possible influence of artificial intelligence on presidential decision-making.

These are not necessarily separate controversies. Congressional investigators may seek to determine whether they reveal broader patterns in the relationship between political authority, private financial interests and the exercise of executive power.

Indeed, four committees and multiple Investigative fronts are in gear.

According to the reported preparations, Senator Sheldon Whitehouse of Rhode Island is expected to chair the Senate Judiciary Committee.

While Senator Richard Blumenthal of Connecticut is being positioned to play a central role through the Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations.

In the House of Representatives, Jamie Raskin of Maryland and Robert Garcia of California are expected to assume leading investigative responsibilities through the Judiciary and Oversight committees respectively.

These anticipated appointments depend on the formal organisation of the new Congress.

Nevertheless, the reported recruitment of several dozen additional lawyers and congressional staff suggests that the preparations are institutional rather than merely rhetorical.

The significance is considerable.

Congressional investigations require legal expertise, document examination, financial analysis, witness interviews and the careful preparation of subpoenas.

An investigative committee that possesses sufficient staff can pursue several lines of inquiry simultaneously.

That could substantially complicate the White House’s ability to respond to each investigation separately.

Following the money

One major area of scrutiny concerns Trump’s cryptocurrency dealings and their possible intersection with presidential authority.

The question is not simply whether the President or his family can participate in cryptocurrency ventures.

It is whether private financial interests may have benefited from government decisions, privileged access or relationships with individuals seeking favourable treatment from Washington.

Another proposed investigation concerns Truth Social and allegations that paying customers could obtain earlier access to presidential posts capable of moving financial markets.

If such arrangements are established, investigators would have to examine whether the system created an unfair informational advantage for particular market participants.

The distinction between lawful commercial activity and improper exploitation of public office would be central.

Equally significant are allegations that wealthy donors and politically connected individuals obtained tariff exemptions or other government favours in return for contributions to Trump-aligned political organisations or presidential projects.

These allegations require evidence of an actual connection between contributions and official decisions. Political donations alone do not establish corruption.

Yet the potential scope of congressional scrutiny is substantial because tariff policy affects businesses, consumers, global supply chains and America’s trading partners.

Qatar, foreign influence and presidential gifts

The luxury presidential aircraft donated by Qatar represents another sensitive investigative subject.

The central issues concern the legal treatment of foreign gifts, possible conflicts of interest, national security safeguards and whether the aircraft’s acceptance complied with applicable constitutional and statutory requirements.

A foreign government providing an exceptionally valuable asset to an American administration raises questions that cannot be resolved solely by describing the transaction as a diplomatic gesture.

Investigators may seek records of negotiations, security assessments, ownership arrangements and eventual disposition of the aircraft.

For the Gulf states, including Qatar, these inquiries could become politically delicate.

They would also demonstrate how domestic American congressional oversight can have consequences for foreign governments that maintain close relations with the White House.

Perhaps the most unusual proposed investigation concerns reports that Trump consulted Elon Musk’s artificial intelligence chatbot, Grok, before the January 2026 American operation that captured Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro.

The committees are reportedly seeking records of the President’s chatbot usage.

The important distinction is between consulting an AI system and relying upon its output to authorise or shape a military operation.

The former does not automatically establish wrongdoing. 

The latter could raise serious questions about intelligence validation, information security, classified material and the chain of command.

If congressional investigators establish that AI-generated information materially influenced operational decisions, the implications would extend well beyond the Trump administration.

They would concern the future relationship between artificial intelligence and presidential war powers.

For Asean and East Asia, where governments are expanding their own military and civilian AI capabilities, this is a question of direct relevance.

Artificial intelligence cannot substitute for accountable human judgment, particularly when the lives of civilians and military personnel are at stake.

Oversight is not the same as conviction though. 

There is, however, an important constitutional distinction.

Congressional committees possess substantial investigative authority, but allegations uncovered through hearings do not automatically constitute criminal findings.

The administration and individuals under investigation retain legal rights. Subpoenas can be challenged, executive privilege may be asserted, and disputes can move into the federal courts.

Furthermore, congressional oversight must serve a legitimate legislative purpose rather than merely function as political punishment.

The Democrats will therefore face their own institutional test: whether their investigations can establish verifiable facts and produce meaningful accountability.

Investigative intensity alone is not proof of investigative success.

Nor should congressional investigations be confused with impeachment.

The House can approve articles of impeachment by a simple majority, but conviction and removal of a president require a two-thirds majority of senators present.

That constitutional threshold remains a major distinction between political confrontation and removal from office.

For America’s allies and partners, the investigations could have consequences beyond Washington.

Congressional scrutiny of tariff exemptions may affect confidence in the predictability of American trade policy.

Investigations involving Qatar could complicate diplomatic relationships in the Gulf.

Questions about AI-assisted military decision-making could generate wider debate over the safeguards required before advanced technologies are incorporated into national security operations.

Meanwhile, the White House may have to devote considerable time and legal resources to responding to congressional demands.

This could influence the administration’s capacity to pursue its foreign policy agenda, although the scale of any disruption will depend on the investigations’ findings and the courts’ rulings.

For Malaysia, Asean, Japan, South Korea and China, the practical lesson is that American foreign policy cannot be understood solely through presidential declarations.

Congress, the judiciary, regulatory institutions and domestic political competition also shape the decisions that eventually reach the international arena.

The coming congressional period could therefore become a test of American institutional accountability.

Whether it produces substantive findings, legislative reforms, prolonged litigation or partisan confrontation remains uncertain.

But the number and diversity of the proposed investigations already indicate that the struggle over presidential accountability is entering a more complicated phase.

The investigative plots in Washington DC are not merely about Donald Trump. 

They concern the boundaries of presidential authority, the relationship between private wealth and public power, and the capacity of American institutions to scrutinise the executive branch.

Those questions will remain consequential long after the midterm election results themselves have faded from the headlines. 

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD is the Professor of Asean Studies at International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

NOVEMBER 6 — As thousands of Malaysian homes prepare to glow with beautiful oil lamps this Deepavali, perhaps we should ask ourselves an uncomfortable question. Are we truly illuminating our society, or have we become content with lighting up our houses while leaving our prejudices untouched?

Deepavali, the Festival of Lights, carries a profound message about the triumph of light over darkness, good over evil and hope over despair. For Hindu Malaysians, it is a deeply meaningful religious and cultural celebration. For the rest of us, it offers an equally valuable opportunity to reflect on the kind of Malaysia we wish to build.

We often proudly describe Malaysia as a multicultural nation. We celebrate Hari Raya, Chinese New Year, Deepavali, Christmas, Gawai and Kaamatan. We exchange greetings, share festive delicacies and upload colourful photographs on social media. Yet, when the celebrations end, how much of that spirit remains?

A woman lights oil lamps during Deepavali celebrations at the Sri Maha Mariamman Devasthanam Temple in Shah Alam October 20, 2025. — Picture by Yusof Isa

Are we genuinely comfortable with people who look different, worship differently or hold beliefs different from ours? Or does our unity sometimes exist only during festive seasons? The answer must begin in our classrooms.

Schools and universities have an enormous responsibility to nurture a generation that does not merely tolerate diversity but genuinely values it. Young Malaysians should not grow up believing that unity means everyone must think, behave or believe alike. True unity emerges when differences are respected rather than feared.

Imagine a primary school classroom where children are encouraged to share what Deepavali means to their families. Instead of simply colouring pictures of oil lamps or wearing traditional costumes, pupils could exchange stories about kindness, family traditions and the importance of respecting others. A Malay pupil might discover the significance of a Hindu friend’s celebration, while an Indian pupil might learn that the values of compassion and gratitude are shared across communities. Such conversations may appear simple, but they can challenge stereotypes before they become deeply rooted.

At universities, the approach should be more intellectually challenging. Lecturers should create opportunities for students to discuss religious sensitivity, cultural misunderstandings and the dangers of stereotyping. Students from different backgrounds could collaborate on community projects, visit cultural exhibitions or organise meaningful conversations with people outside their usual social circles.

More importantly, these activities should encourage reflection. What assumptions did students previously hold? What surprised them? How might they respond differently when encountering prejudice in everyday life?

We must also confront the uncomfortable reality of social media. Young Malaysians are constantly exposed to divisive comments, offensive jokes and misleading narratives about race and religion. One thoughtless post can undo years of goodwill. Our classrooms must therefore teach students to question harmful narratives, verify information and challenge prejudice respectfully rather than blindly sharing it.

This year, the Ministry of Higher Education has offered flexible online and hybrid learning arrangements to Hindu students and lecturers around Deepavali. Such consideration is a welcome recognition of religious and cultural diversity. However, genuine inclusion must extend beyond accommodating festive calendars. It must become part of how we teach, learn and treat one another every day.

Perhaps the greatest lesson of Deepavali is that darkness does not disappear simply because we talk about light. It disappears when someone makes the effort to illuminate it.

A truly united Malaysia will not be built through festive banners, ceremonial speeches or beautifully staged multicultural photographs alone. It will be built when a child refuses to laugh at a racist joke, when a university student defends a friend facing discrimination, and when neighbours celebrate one another’s happiness without questioning their differences.

As we wish our Hindu friends and fellow Malaysians a joyful Deepavali, let us remember that the brightest light is not necessarily the one burning in an oil lamp. It is the light of kindness, empathy and respect that we carry into our relationships.

This Deepavali, let us not merely celebrate the Festival of Lights. Let us become the light that makes Malaysia a little kinder, more peaceful and more united.

Happy Deepavali to all Malaysians celebrating this beautiful occasion.

* By Assoc. Prof. Dr. Muhammad Noor Abdul Aziz, School of Education, Universiti Utara Malaysia.

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

NOVEMBER 6 — More than a century after Vincent van Gogh painted one of the world’s most celebrated masterpieces, scientific research is offering a fascinating new perspective on the night sky that may have inspired it. For generations, Vincent van Gogh’s The Starry Night has captivated audiences with its swirling skies, luminous stars and extraordinary sense of movement.

But what if the celestial arrangement in this iconic painting was inspired by an actual morning sky?

A study published in Scientific Reports, part of the Nature Portfolio, explores precisely this possibility. Using astronomical simulations, historical records and mathematical analysis, researchers reconstructed the sky over Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, France, where Van Gogh was staying in 1889.

For generations, Vincent van Gogh’s ‘The Starry Night’ has captivated audiences with its swirling skies, luminous stars and extraordinary sense of movement. — Google Art Project pic

Their findings suggest that the arrangement of the Moon, Venus and the Hyades star cluster on July 22, 1889 closely resembles elements of the celestial composition depicted in the painting.

Can we see the beauty of the universe in the microscopic world of cells?

From a biological perspective, this discovery invites an interesting comparison between the vastness of the cosmos and the microscopic world of living cells. Look at stars and galaxies through a telescope, then observe cells and their intricate structures under a microscope. Both reveal fascinating patterns, clusters, networks and complexity. Despite their unimaginable differences in scale, they remind us of the extraordinary ways nature creates and organises its structures, from the architecture of a single cell to the vastness of the universe.

As a cancer immunologist, this parallel offers another way of appreciating the beauty of science. The cellular world, much like the night sky, holds patterns and interactions that are not always visible to the naked eye. Sometimes, it takes a different lens to discover the extraordinary within what initially appears ordinary.

The researchers combined astronomy with art history to investigate the possible origins of Van Gogh’s masterpiece. Their findings offer another perspective on how observation and imagination can come together to create something extraordinary.

Importantly, the study does not establish the definitive date on which the painting was completed. Rather, it presents a compelling scientific hypothesis about the sky that may have inspired its creation.

More than 137 years later, The Starry Night continues to reveal new dimensions of its beauty. From the vastness of the cosmos to the microscopic architecture of a cell, perhaps nature has always been creating art in patterns we are only beginning to understand. Sometimes, all it takes is a different lens to discover that the universe and the microscopic world are not so different after all.

* The author is a University Lecturer at Pusat Kanser Tun Abdullah Ahmad Badawi, Universiti Sains Malaysia and Visiting Scientist at the International Agency for Research on Cancer, World Health Organisation.

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

NOVEMBER 6 — It was historic.

Despite its official name “Memorandum of Understanding for Transformation and Political Stability”, it was in pith and substance a confidence and supply agreement (CSA) between the government led by Prime Minister Datuk Seri Ismail Sabri Yaakob and the main opposition Pakatan Harapan (PH) bloc led by Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim.

The first of its kind agreement in the country, signed on September 13, 2021, was to “cool political temperatures and allow sharper focus to fight the Covid-19 pandemic and economic malaise”.

The agreement can be read here: https://www.parlimen.gov.my/images/webuser/bkk/mou.pdf

A general view of the Parliament building in Kuala Lumpur November 6, 2025. — Picture by Yusof Isa

It was mutually agreed that the government would not propose the dissolution of Parliament before July 31, 2022, and that the government would do its best to fulfil each transformation proposal within the timeframe agreed by both sides.

PH would reciprocate by agreeing (a) to support or abstain in Parliament in the vote on Budget 2022 (to be unveiled on October 29, 2021), after mutual agreement on its content, and (b) to support or abstain in any government proposal or Bill, where failure for it to pass would be seen as a form of no-confidence vote on the government. The proposal or Bill would first have to be agreed by the government and PH.

Both sides agreed that the agreement would not prevent PH from playing its check-and-balance role.

Other than that, the government agreed to undertake to take a number of steps, one of which is parliamentary reform, involving:

•  tabling and approving a Parliament Service Bill to ensure Parliament as an independent institution;
•  strengthening of parliamentary select committees (PSC);
•  equal allocations for government and opposition MPs;
•  membership of PSC to be more balanced;
•  Parliament’s Standing Orders to be amended to ensure proceedings in the Dewan rakyat and Dewan Negara would be more organised and effective; and
•  office of the Opposition Leader to be given appropriate rights and facilities.

So, there must be equal allocations for government and opposition MPs, which must be carried out immediately, as was the case with other steps.

As such, can it be said that the agreement, in pith and substance a CSA, was Dajjal-like?

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

NOVEMBER 6 — A university that produces graduates who can answer examination questions but hesitate to question ideas has not fully achieved its educational purpose. Higher education should develop independent thinkers capable of evaluating evidence, challenging assumptions and contributing confidently to society.

As Malaysia considers reforms to the Universities and University Colleges Act 1971 (UUCA), commonly known as AUKU, the challenge extends beyond legislation. How can universities translate academic freedom into everyday learning, responsible expression and meaningful student participation?

The proposed reforms offer an opportunity to strengthen university autonomy. However, changing legislation alone cannot guarantee a culture of critical thinking.

Higher education should develop independent thinkers capable of evaluating evidence, challenging assumptions and contributing confidently to society. — Picture by Miera Zulyana

Academic freedom begins in the classroom

Students should feel comfortable asking questions, discussing different perspectives and respectfully challenging established ideas.

Lecturers can encourage this through evidence-based discussions, problem-solving activities and assignments that reward independent reasoning rather than memorisation.

Debates about public policies, environmental challenges and technological change can help students evaluate competing arguments before reaching conclusions.

Academic freedom does not require agreement. It requires an environment where ideas are examined fairly and disagreement becomes part of learning.

Student participation must be meaningful

University governance improves when students contribute to decisions affecting their education.

Student representation, regular consultations and transparent feedback mechanisms can strengthen institutional trust.

Participation should extend beyond ceremonial involvement. Students need opportunities to raise concerns, propose improvements and understand how their contributions influence decisions.

Universities could publish consultation summaries and explain actions taken in response.

Such practices would strengthen accountability while developing leadership and communication skills.

Freedom requires responsibility

Academic freedom and responsible expression should reinforce each other.

Universities must uphold academic integrity, protect students from harassment and maintain respectful learning environments.

Clear guidelines should distinguish legitimate criticism and scholarly debate from threats, discrimination or misconduct.

These guidelines must be applied consistently and transparently, ensuring that students and lecturers understand their rights and responsibilities.

University leadership shapes institutional culture

Administrators can encourage openness through dialogue sessions, accessible grievance mechanisms and regular engagement with students and academic staff.

Lecturers should be supported in conducting research, presenting evidence-based findings and discussing matters within their expertise.

Universities can also promote interdisciplinary projects that encourage students to examine national challenges from different perspectives.

Such initiatives would translate legislative aspirations into meaningful academic practices.

Critical thinking strengthens national development

Malaysia needs graduates capable of navigating artificial intelligence, digital transformation and complex economic challenges.

Employers and public institutions increasingly require professionals who can evaluate information, solve problems and make responsible decisions.

These abilities cannot develop fully where questioning is discouraged.

Malaysia Madani’s emphasis on respect, innovation, trust and well-being provides a foundation for balancing intellectual freedom with ethical responsibility.

Higher education reform should therefore consider not only institutional autonomy but also students’ learning experiences and confidence in expressing informed opinions.

Ultimately, the success of UUCA reform will not be measured solely by the legislation Parliament adopts.

It will be reflected in classrooms where questions are welcomed, campuses where different perspectives are respected and universities where students learn to think independently.

Malaysia’s universities should prepare more than employable graduates. They should nurture citizens capable of questioning constructively, reasoning critically and contributing responsibly to the nation’s future.

About the authors:

Abd. Rahim Romle is an Associate Professor and Deputy Dean at the Ghazali Shafie Graduate School of Government, Universiti Utara Malaysia.

Ainur Rabiyatul Abd. Rahim is a Master of Teaching English as a Second Language (TESL) candidate at Universiti Putra Malaysia. 

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

NOVEMBER 6 — The electoral devastation suffered by President Donald Trump and the Republican Party in the November 3, 2026; midterm elections cannot be explained by the war with Iran alone.

It was also a repudiation of the manner in which the United States has allowed its relationship with Israel, especially under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, to shape American foreign policy, military commitments and domestic political priorities.

This distinction is fundamental.

Americans did not necessarily vote to abandon Israel as a sovereign state or reject its legitimate security concerns. Rather, a growing proportion of the electorate appears unwilling to accept an almost unconditional strategic relationship that can draw the United States into costly wars without sufficient accountability.

The Democratic capture of both chambers of Congress represents a major political setback for Trump. Yet its significance extends beyond Washington.

It raises the possibility that the longstanding bipartisan consensus underpinning American support for Israel is entering a period of structural change. 

The Iran war exposed a deeper problem

For decades, the US–Israel relationship was treated as virtually untouchable in American politics.

Republican and Democratic administrations differed over settlements, Palestinian statehood, diplomatic negotiations and the appropriate use of military force. Nevertheless, both parties generally regarded Israel’s security as an enduring American strategic commitment.

Netanyahu increasingly disrupted this arrangement by cultivating Republican support, particularly through his close association with Trump.

The joint US–Israeli military campaign against Iran, launched in February 2026, brought the consequences of that alignment into sharp relief.

The war disrupted energy supplies, increased economic uncertainty and exposed American households to higher costs.

A conflict presented in strategic terms in Washington was experienced economically by ordinary Americans.

The Chicago Council on Global Affairs reported in October that 68 per cent of Americans considered the Iran war not worth its costs. An even larger 86 per cent believed it had harmed the cost of living.

Yet only 2 per cent identified the war as their single most important voting issue.

This apparent contradiction is revealing. Foreign policy did not have to dominate campaign speeches to influence the election. Its economic consequences had already entered American households. 

The war with Iran therefore became the most visible manifestation of a deeper question: why should American families continue bearing the financial and strategic consequences of decisions so closely associated with the Netanyahu government?

The erosion of unconditional support

The electoral repudiation of Trump coincided with a substantial deterioration in American public attitudes towards Israel.

The Chicago Council’s October survey placed Americans’ average favourability towards Israel at just 44 out of 100, its lowest recorded level in that survey series.

Among Democrats, the figure had declined from 52 in 2022 to 30 in 2026.

More significantly, 56 per cent of Americans supported either reducing or eliminating US military assistance to Israel.

Among Democrats and independents, the corresponding figures were 72 per cent and 64 per cent respectively. 

These findings indicate that the shift cannot be dismissed as a temporary emotional reaction to the Iran war.

It began earlier, particularly following Israel’s devastating military campaign in Gaza after the Hamas attacks of October 7, 2023.

The destruction in Gaza, civilian casualties, humanitarian suffering and prolonged absence of a credible political settlement progressively undermined Israel’s standing among important sections of American society.

The Iran war accelerated this deterioration.

For many voters, Gaza and Iran were no longer separate conflicts. They became interconnected examples of an American foreign policy increasingly identified with Netanyahu’s military priorities.

This does not establish that every Democratic voter rejected the US–Israel alliance. The midterms were also shaped by inflation, tariffs, dissatisfaction with Trump and other domestic concerns.

Nevertheless, the evidence strongly suggests that unconditional support for Israel has become a political liability rather than an automatic electoral advantage.

Trump recognised the political danger too late

Perhaps the most revealing development occurred on election day itself.

Trump unexpectedly suggested that the United States would discontinue nearly US$4 billion in annual military assistance to Israel, arguing that Israel no longer required such assistance.

Yet his proposed replacement through arms sales raised questions about whether the financial and strategic relationship would fundamentally change.

The Guardian interpreted this last-minute announcement as an acknowledgment that support for Israel had become politically costly. 

The timing was extraordinary.

A president who had closely identified himself with Netanyahu appeared to be seeking political distance from Israel precisely when American voters were preparing to deliver their verdict.

This was hardly evidence of a carefully developed new Middle East strategy.

It suggested political damage control.

Trump’s subsequent acknowledgment that the Iran war contributed to Republican losses was equally revealing. Vice-President JD Vance had already identified the conflict as a major cause of the electoral disaster.

Trump accepted much of that assessment but insisted that the military campaign had been necessary to prevent Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons. 

The contradiction is unmistakable.

Trump recognises the political costs of war while remaining committed to defending the decision that produced them.

The American electorate, however, appears increasingly unwilling to separate the stated strategic objectives of the conflict from its economic and humanitarian consequences.

Michigan demonstrates the changing political landscape

The election of Abdul El-Sayed as the first Muslim senator in American history is particularly significant.

His victory in Michigan came despite an intensive campaign by pro-Israel political interests opposing his candidacy.

According to The Guardian, the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, or AIPAC, spent more than US$40 million in efforts to defeat him.

Yet El-Sayed prevailed.

The result challenges the assumption that candidates openly advocating Palestinian rights must inevitably suffer politically.

Indeed, The Guardian reported exit-poll findings indicating that El-Sayed secured majority support among Jewish voters in Michigan.

This illustrates an important distinction between criticism of the Israeli government’s policies and hostility towards Jewish Americans.

The two should never be conflated. 

The broader lesson is that American electoral politics is becoming more receptive to candidates who question the conventional boundaries of US Middle East policy.

Such changes are particularly significant among younger voters, progressive activists and constituencies concerned with human rights and the appropriate use of American military power.

Nevertheless, a single election cannot establish that pro-Israel political influence has disappeared.

AIPAC and other organisations retain substantial institutional resources, while important segments of both major parties continue supporting Israel.

What has changed is the assumption that such support necessarily guarantees political advantage.

Netanyahu has become a strategic liability

The consequences extend directly into Israeli domestic politics.

Netanyahu’s political survival has long depended partly on his claim that he possesses exceptional access to Washington.

His close relationship with Trump was presented as an asset that could strengthen Israel’s security, expand its diplomatic influence and provide political protection.

The American midterms have severely weakened that argument.

Israel’s own recent election left Netanyahu’s right-wing coalition without a parliamentary majority, although the opposition has not secured a straightforward route to forming a government.

Israeli opposition leaders have already used the Democratic victories to argue that Netanyahu has undermined the bipartisan foundations of American support.

Yair Lapid and Yair Golan have both questioned the damage Netanyahu has inflicted on Israel’s international position. 

The significance is considerable.

For decades, Israeli governments could generally assume that changes in American administrations would not fundamentally threaten bilateral military cooperation.

That assumption is now less secure.

Netanyahu’s decision to identify himself so closely with one American political movement may have compromised Israel’s ability to sustain equally strong relationships across the American political spectrum.

In other words, Netanyahu may have mistaken Trump’s personal political influence for the permanent support of American society.

The two are not identical.

A view of the US Capitol at sunrise, one day after the midterm elections, in Washington, DC, on November 4, 2026. Democrats seized control of the US Congress on Tuesday, capturing the Senate and House of Representatives in a stunning, nationwide rejection of Donald Trump set to put the brakes on the final two years of his presidency. — AFP pic

A Democratic Congress will demand accountability

The incoming Democratic majorities in the House of Representatives and Senate will possess substantial institutional powers to scrutinise American military commitments.

Congress can conduct investigations, summon officials, examine arms transfers, question military expenditure and impose conditions through legislation and appropriations.

Such powers could increase pressure on the Trump administration to explain the costs and objectives of its Middle East strategy.

They could also create greater scrutiny of Israeli military operations in Gaza, Lebanon and Iran.

However, this does not mean that Congress can simply terminate the US–Israel relationship.

Trump retains considerable presidential authority over foreign policy and can veto legislation. Overriding a veto requires a two-thirds majority in both chambers.

Moreover, the Democratic Party itself remains divided over the extent to which American military assistance to Israel should be restricted.

Thus, the most immediate change may not be the termination of assistance but the end of unquestioned political deference.

That alone would represent a significant departure from longstanding practice.

The implications for Asean and the Muslim world

For Malaysia, Asean and the wider Muslim world, these developments require careful interpretation.

The American election should not be mistaken for a wholesale conversion of Washington towards Palestinian statehood or an immediate commitment to ending military involvement in the Middle East.

American strategic institutions, defence relationships and regional military deployments cannot be transformed overnight.

Nevertheless, the political environment in which American Middle East policy is formulated is changing.

Malaysia should welcome stronger congressional scrutiny of military operations, greater accountability for civilian casualties and renewed diplomatic efforts to secure a comprehensive ceasefire.

Asean, meanwhile, has a direct economic interest in reducing tensions around the Strait of Hormuz and the Red Sea.

Disruptions to energy shipments affect inflation, industrial production, food security and international trade throughout Southeast Asia.

The lesson is that regional peace cannot depend indefinitely on military escalation.

Malaysia and Asean should broaden and deepen diplomatic engagement with the United States, Iran, Israel’s regional neighbours and other relevant parties to support a durable settlement.

The objective must be to prevent the Middle East from becoming a permanent source of economic and strategic instability.

A repudiation of strategic subservience

The deepest significance of the 2026 American midterms may therefore lie in the changing relationship between foreign policy and democratic accountability.

American voters are increasingly questioning why their government should provide extensive military and financial commitments abroad while struggling to address domestic affordability, public services and economic insecurity.

The US–Israel relationship has become central to this debate because the Gaza and Iran wars have made its costs and contradictions more visible.

This is not necessarily a repudiation of Israel’s existence, nor of the right of Israelis to live in peace and security.

It is a challenge to the proposition that American strategic commitments should remain unconditional regardless of the conduct of an allied government.

It is also a warning against allowing close personal relationships between political leaders to substitute for durable institutional legitimacy.

Trump and Netanyahu built their political partnership around the assumption that military strength and political determination could overcome resistance.

The American electorate has now demonstrated that even powerful leaders remain accountable to democratic opinion.

The Iran war may have accelerated the Republican collapse. But the growing rejection of unconditional American support for Netanyahu’s policies suggests something more enduring: the political foundations of the US–Israel relationship is being renegotiated.

Whether this produces a more balanced American Middle East policy will depend on the decisions of the new Congress, the Democratic leadership and ultimately the American electorate in 2028.

For now, one conclusion is increasingly difficult to escape.

The 2026 midterms were not merely a verdict against Trump’s war with Iran.

They were also a warning that American voters can no longer be expected to provide unlimited political consent for the strategic choices of Israel’s government.

And that warning will reverberate far beyond Washington and Jerusalem.

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD is the Professor of Asean Studies at International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

NOVEMBER 5 — Abdulrahman Mohamed El-Sayed is an epidemiologist, public health administrator, academic and politician.

No prizes for guessing that he is Muslim.

And American as well — a Democrat better known as Abdul El-Sayed.

On Wednesday, he won a key Senate seat in the battleground state of Michigan.

He defeated his Trump-backed Republican opponent, Mike Rogers, overcoming a campaign of anti-Muslim attacks spearheaded by the President himself.

With the victory, Abdul El-Sayed, 42, is set to become the first Muslim senator in US history. He will be sworn in on January 3.

El-Sayed had won a hard-fought primary in August that saw the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) spend more than $30m against him. After that win, El-Sayed, a critic of Israel’s policies, was subjected to an avalanche of unfounded accusations — including that he is a “jihadist” — by Trump and other Republicans. 

Trump and the Republicans had sought to cast ⁠El-Sayed as a radical candidate sympathetic to Islamic extremism through alleged ties to the Muslim Brotherhood, unsupported by evidence.

Democratic US Senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed smiles onstage after declaring victory in Michigan's US Senate race during an election night party at The Department at Hudson's in Detroit, Michigan, yesterday. — AFP pic

Rogers portrayed El-Sayed as a communist, criticising his stance on Israel and his Muslim faith. 

El-Sayed’s opposition to US military aid for Israel and his characterization of Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide were used against him. 

Democrats said the attacks on El-Sayed relied on Islamophobic tropes.

El-Sayed, however, remained steadfast in his campaign on ⁠lowering costs for working families and reducing corporate influence in politics. His platform included Medicare for All, a government-funded universal healthcare program championed by progressives in his party.

His campaign slogan “Money out of politics, money in your pocket and Medicare for all”, resonated with the Michiganders, among whom is the second largest Arab-American population in the US.

Read about El-Sayed here: https://abdulforsenate.com/about/ and his slogan here: https://abdulforsenate.com/priorities/

Candidates for the Melaka state election can be as articulate as El-Sayed.

“Money out of politics, money in your pocket” is a slogan that should equally resonate with “dak-dak Melaka” – the Malaccans.

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

NOVEMBER 5 — Artificial intelligence (AI) is rapidly changing the way we seek and receive information, including information about our health. Today, many people use AI-powered applications to ask questions about symptoms, interpret medical reports and understand possible health conditions. Some even upload photographs of skin problems, dental conditions or medical images to obtain an instant assessment. Although this technology offers exciting possibilities, we need to pause and ask an important question: Can we really trust AI to diagnose our medical and dental conditions?

There is no doubt that AI has the potential to improve healthcare. It can analyse large amounts of information, recognise patterns and assist healthcare professionals in interpreting medical images. In medicine, AI systems are being developed to help detect abnormalities in X-rays, CT scans and other diagnostic images. In dentistry, AI can assist in identifying possible tooth decay, bone loss associated with gum disease and other abnormalities in dental X-rays. For example, an AI system may highlight an area on a dental X-ray that could indicate tooth decay, helping a dentist identify areas that require closer examination. When used appropriately, these tools may improve efficiency, support clinical decision-making and contribute to earlier detection of certain conditions.

However, there is another side to the story. AI is not a doctor or dentist, and it can get things wrong. An AI application may provide an answer that sounds confident and convincing but is inaccurate or incomplete. Consider someone experiencing severe toothache. After uploading a photograph, an AI application suggests that the problem is simply tooth decay. However, the actual cause could be a dental abscess, a cracked tooth or an infection involving the surrounding tissues. These conditions may require further investigations and different treatments. If the person relies entirely on the AI-generated answer, they may delay seeking proper dental care, potentially allowing the condition to worsen.

Another important point to remember is that AI does not always provide the same answer to every question. Different AI applications may generate different responses, even when given the same symptoms or photographs. Sometimes, the answer may also change depending on how the question is asked. This is because AI generates responses based on patterns in the information it has learned, rather than examining a patient in the same way a healthcare professional would. Therefore, receiving a consistent or convincing answer does not necessarily mean that the information is correct.

Why does this happen? A proper medical or dental diagnosis involves much more than looking at a photograph or prompting a list of symptoms. Doctors and dentists consider the patient’s medical history, conduct clinical examinations and, when necessary, request additional investigations before deciding on the most appropriate diagnosis and treatment. AI may not have access to all this information and cannot replace the professional judgement and clinical experience required to assess each individual patient.

Always verify information through reliable health sources and consult a qualified doctor or dentist for professional assessment and treatment. — Unsplash pic

Furthermore, every patient is different. Two people may have similar symptoms but completely different underlying conditions. For example, a white patch in the mouth may be caused by something harmless, such as irritation, but it could also be associated with an infection or a potentially serious oral condition. A dentist needs to consider factors such as the patient’s age, medical history, habits, duration of the lesion and clinical appearance before reaching a diagnosis. A photograph alone may not provide enough information to distinguish between these conditions.

Another issue that deserves attention is personal privacy. When using AI applications, people may upload medical reports, dental X-rays, photographs and other sensitive health information without fully understanding how their data will be collected, stored or used. Before sharing such information, users should check the platform’s privacy policies and avoid uploading identifiable personal or medical details unnecessarily. We should also be cautious about following treatment recommendations generated by AI. For instance, someone experiencing toothache may be advised to take certain medications or try home remedies based on the symptoms provided. However, not all medications are suitable for everyone, and some conditions require urgent treatment rather than temporary relief. Taking medication without proper advice or delaying treatment because an AI application suggests that the condition is not serious may put one’s health at risk. AI can provide general information, but decisions about medication and treatment should always be discussed with a qualified healthcare professional.

Does this mean we should avoid using AI for health information? Not at all! AI can be a useful starting point for understanding unfamiliar medical terms, learning about general health conditions and preparing questions before visiting a healthcare professional. We should also learn to use AI appropriately by asking questions that help us understand health information rather than seeking a diagnosis. For example, we can use AI to explain medical terms, understand common symptoms or prepare questions for our dentist. The important thing is to use it wisely. Treat AI-generated responses as general information rather than a confirmed diagnosis. Always verify information through reliable health sources and consult a qualified doctor or dentist for professional assessment and treatment. Most importantly, persistent pain, swelling, bleeding, fever or other concerning symptoms deserve professional attention.

As AI becomes increasingly accessible, it is important for the public to develop the ability to use this technology responsibly. It can be a helpful assistant, but it should never become our sole healthcare adviser. After all, your health is too important to leave to an algorithm. When in doubt, consult your doctor or dentist. Let AI inform you but let healthcare professionals care for you.

* The authors are Assoc Prof. Dr. Nor Azlida Binti Mohd Nor from the Department of Community Oral Health & Clinical Prevention, Faculty of Dentistry, Universiti Malaya, and Assoc. Prof. Dr. Goh Yet Ching from the Department of Oral & Maxillofacial Clinical Sciences, Faculty of Dentistry, Universiti Malaya.

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

NOVEMBER 5 — The Democratic Party’s sweeping electoral victories in the November 2026 midterm elections have opened a new chapter in American politics. 

The immediate consequences extend beyond the balance of power in Congress. 

They concern the ability of Congress to investigate President Donald Trump, his administration, his family and the corporate interests surrounding his presidency.

The next two years could therefore become a period of sustained congressional scrutiny.

At the centre of this emerging confrontation is Congressman Robert Garcia of California, a Democrat preparing to exercise the investigative authority associated with leadership of the House Oversight Committee.

His election-night warning was unusually direct: “Lawyer up.”

These two words convey the confrontational mood among Democrats who believe the Trump administration has operated without sufficient congressional scrutiny.

Yet the significance of Garcia’s declaration goes beyond political theatre.

It reflects the constitutional authority of Congress to demand documents, summon witnesses, conduct hearings and investigate the conduct of the executive branch.

For Trump, whose second presidential term runs until January 2029, this presents a potentially difficult institutional environment.

The Democrats’ electoral gains have changed the political calculations in Washington.

During periods of unified Republican control, congressional investigations into the administration faced political obstacles. 

A Democratic-controlled House would create substantially greater opportunities for oversight.

The House Oversight Committee is especially important because its jurisdiction extends across federal government operations.

It can investigate alleged misconduct, administrative failures, conflicts of interest and the use of public resources.

Garcia has already identified several possible areas of investigation.

They include the Trump family’s business activities, alleged corporate corruption, the conduct of the Department of Homeland Security, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, and the federal government’s handling of records connected to Jeffrey Epstein.

Each subject carries different legal and political implications.

Investigations into the Trump family’s business interests could examine whether private commercial relationships intersected improperly with public decision-making.

Investigations into corporate corruption could explore whether government contracts, regulatory decisions or other official actions disproportionately benefited politically connected interests.

Scrutiny of Homeland Security and Immigration and Customs Enforcement could focus on the legality of enforcement operations, detention practices and adherence to constitutional protections.

The handling of the Epstein files could raise questions about transparency, document retention and whether federal authorities followed appropriate procedures.

None of these investigations would establish wrongdoing merely by being launched. 

Allegations would need to be supported by evidence, and those investigated would be entitled to challenge the claims against them.

Nevertheless, the cumulative burden of multiple investigations could be substantial.

Congressional oversight is not limited to public hearings.

Committees can issue subpoenas seeking testimony and documents. 

They can request records from federal agencies and examine the conduct of senior officials.

Where witnesses refuse to cooperate, Congress may pursue enforcement through established legal mechanisms.

However, congressional authority is not unlimited.

The executive branch can assert privileges, contest the scope of subpoenas and challenge investigative demands in court.

Such disputes can consume months, sometimes years.

This means Democratic control of the House would not automatically translate into unrestricted access to presidential communications or confidential executive records.

The US Capitol is seen at sunset on Election Day in Washington, DC, on Nov 3, 2026, as Americans vote in midterm elections that could determine control of the House and Senate for the remainder of President Donald Trump’s second term. — AFP pic

But even contested subpoenas can generate political pressure.

Cabinet secretaries may face repeated questioning. Senior officials may be required to explain administrative decisions. 

Private individuals connected to government business may become subjects of congressional inquiries.

The administration would have to devote legal resources, personnel and political attention to responding.

The resulting tension could become a defining feature of Trump’s final two years.

Impeachment Is Not the Only Instrument

Much attention will inevitably turn to the possibility of another impeachment proceeding against Trump. 

Although the most likely candidate to face impeachment proceedings would be Peter Hegseth, the Secretary of War.

The House of Representatives possesses the constitutional authority to impeach a president by a simple majority.

Conviction and removal, however, require a two-thirds majority in the Senate.

That distinction is fundamental.

Investigations can produce findings and referrals without necessarily culminating in impeachment.

Democrats may therefore face a strategic choice between pursuing impeachment proceedings and conducting sustained oversight of individual agencies, Cabinet officials and executive decisions.

The two approaches are not mutually exclusive.

But they have different consequences for congressional time, public attention and legislative priorities.

For an administration entering its final two years, the prospect of continuous investigation could become an important constraint even without impeachment.

The international consequences deserve equal attention.

For Asean, Japan, South Korea, Australia and other American partners in the Indo-Pacific, congressional scrutiny could complicate the conduct of US foreign policy.

The Trump administration remains responsible for diplomacy, national security and the management of international crises.

Yet senior officials dealing with trade negotiations, defence commitments, sanctions and immigration policy may simultaneously be required to defend their domestic decisions before congressional committees.

This does not mean American foreign policy will cease functioning.

Nor does it mean Congress can simply dictate the president’s diplomatic agenda.

But greater institutional friction could make policy coordination more complicated.

Countries in Asia should therefore distinguish between the authority of the American presidency and the increasing assertiveness of Congress.

For Malaysia and Asean, the appropriate response is to broaden and deepen engagement with the United States across both political parties and multiple institutions.

Relationships with the White House remain important. 

So do relationships with congressional leaders, committees, federal agencies and state governments.

The lesson is that American power is distributed across institutions that can compete with one another.

The emerging congressional investigations also highlight a broader feature of American constitutional government.

Presidents possess considerable executive authority, especially in foreign affairs.

But that authority exists within a system of legislative oversight, judicial review and constitutional constraints.

Congressional investigations can reveal administrative failures and provide information needed for legislation.

They can also become instruments of partisan confrontation.

The distinction depends on the seriousness of the evidence, the fairness of investigative procedures and the willingness of lawmakers to apply consistent standards.

Democrats will have to demonstrate that oversight serves a public purpose rather than simply extending electoral competition into committee hearings.

Republicans, meanwhile, will have opportunities to challenge investigations they regard as excessive, politically motivated or unsupported by evidence.

The courts may ultimately determine the permissible boundaries of some congressional demands.

For Trump, the central change is that the executive branch may face more sustained institutional resistance from a newly empowered opposition.

The Democratic Party is poised to move from electoral campaigning into investigative mode.

Garcia’s warning of “Lawyer up” captures that transition.

But the lasting significance will be measured not by the number of subpoenas issued or the intensity of televised hearings.

It will be measured by whether congressional oversight produces credible findings, strengthens accountability and clarifies the boundaries of presidential power.

The final two years of Trump’s presidency could thus become as much a contest over constitutional authority as a struggle over the political direction of the United States.

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD is the Professor of Asean Studies at International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

NOVEMBER 5 — Well, well, well.

The Democrats have done it. The House of Representatives and the United States Senate, both wrestled from the Republicans in a spectacular electoral upheaval.

Donald Trump has been handed a political kicking, Washington’s television commentators are practically weeping with relief, and somewhere in America, Republican campaign strategists are discovering that LinkedIn has rather limited vacancies for professional character assassins.

Democracy has been saved.

Again.

And across Asia, otherwise intelligent people are beginning to imagine that the world’s most powerful military state has suddenly discovered compassion.

How terribly sweet.

Before Asean joins the standing ovation, might I suggest something scandalously unfashionable?

Arithmetic.

Because if hypocrisy were an export commodity, Washington would never run a trade deficit.

And the Democrats have quite an impressive collection of receipts.

Let’s begin with Israel.

The Nobel Peace Prize comes with a weapons subscription

In September 2016, Barack Obama, Nobel Peace Prize recipient and one of America’s most eloquent presidents, proudly announced that his administration had provided Israel with US$23.6 billion in foreign military financing and another US$3.4 billion for missile defence since fiscal 2009.

Twenty-seven billion dollars.

And Obama wasn’t finished.

He negotiated another US$38 billion in military assistance over ten years, comprising US$33 billion in military financing and US$5 billion for missile defence.

The largest such commitment in American history at the time.

Not bad for a Nobel Peace Prize winner.

Apparently, the road to world peace requires an unusually generous weapons subscription.

Then came Joe Biden, a man who publicly described himself as a Zionist and whose enthusiasm for Israel extended considerably beyond affectionate speeches.

According to the Congressional Research Service, American assistance to Israel amounted to US$4.8 billion in fiscal 2022, US$3.8 billion in 2023 and US$12.5 billion in 2024.

Another US$21.1 billion.

Combine those figures with Obama’s earlier US$27 billion, and we have US$48.1 billion across those selected Democratic-era periods alone. The figures cover different periods, and I am deliberately not adding Obama’s subsequent US$38 billion commitment again, because much of it overlaps with later assistance.

Unlike certain politicians, I believe arithmetic should survive contact with reality.

But then came Gaza.

To those celebrating the Democratic victory as some miraculous breakthrough for Palestinian rights, I have one rather uncomfortable question.

Who occupied the White House when Gaza was being devastated?

Joe Biden.

According to Brown University’s Costs of War project, America provided or approved at least US$17.9 billion in security assistance to Israel during the first twelve months following October 7, 2023.

That wartime estimate overlaps the annual figures already mentioned. But the amount remains extraordinary.

And if the financial figures seem abstract, consider the cargo manifests.

The speeches expressed concern. The cargo planes delivered bombs.

In June 2024, Reuters reported, citing American officials, that the Biden administration had transferred to Israel at least 14,000 two-thousand-pound bombs, 6,500 five-hundred-pound bombs, 3,000 Hellfire missiles, 1,000 bunker-buster bombs and 2,600 small-diameter bombs since October 7.

These were reported deliveries, not merely proposed sales.

Fourteen thousand two-thousand-pound bombs.

Meanwhile, Biden was expressing growing concern about civilian casualties and the humanitarian catastrophe unfolding in Gaza.

His administration did temporarily withhold a shipment of heavy bombs and criticised aspects of Israel’s military campaign. Yet substantial military assistance continued.

In August 2024, Washington also notified Congress of more than US$20 billion in potential additional arms sales, including approximately US$18.8 billion in F-15 fighter aircraft and upgrades. These were proposed future sales, not completed deliveries.

South Africa had meanwhile brought its genocide allegations against Israel before the International Court of Justice. Israel rejects those allegations, on which the court has not delivered a final judgment.

Biden expressed concern.

Then more concern.

Occasionally, profound concern.

Washington has perfected a remarkable diplomatic art: expressing heartbreak at the consequences of a military campaign while continuing to supply much of the hardware.

It’s rather like helping someone burn down a house and then issuing a beautifully worded statement expressing profound sadness about the curtains.

There is nothing amusing about Palestinian suffering.

But there is plenty to scrutinise in the distance between Washington’s humanitarian language and its military decisions.

And Israel was hardly the only recipient of American largesse.

America has voted for change. Our responsibility is to distinguish the change it has voted for from the change the rest of the world merely hopes for. — AFP pic

Ukraine: US$174 billion and a very American supply chain

Between fiscal 2022 and 2024, Congress appropriated US$174.2 billion in emergency supplemental funding responding to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

One hundred and seventy-four billion dollars.

Before anyone imagines pallets of American currency being flown directly to Kyiv, let’s examine the accounting.

Approximately US$110.7 billion, or 64%, was allocated to the US Department of Defense and other defence-related activities, including American operations, weapons procurement and replacing equipment transferred from military stockpiles.

By January 2025, the Biden administration reported approximately US$65.9 billion in military assistance commitments to Ukraine since Russia’s full-scale invasion.

Its inventory included more than 40 HIMARS rocket systems, three Patriot air-defence batteries, more than 3,000 Stinger missiles and over three million 155mm artillery rounds.

Separately, the US Government Accountability Office recorded approximately US$30.2 billion actually disbursed for direct Ukrainian government budget support between April 2022 and December 2024.

These figures represent different, sometimes overlapping measures of American support, not amounts that can simply be added together.

Russia invaded Ukraine in violation of its sovereignty. Ukraine’s right to defend itself is not the same legal or moral question as American military assistance during the Gaza war.

But the financial arrangements reveal something fascinating about Washington.

Overseas military commitments can also sustain an enormous domestic industrial ecosystem.

The taxpayer provides the funding. The Pentagon places orders. American factories manufacture equipment. Politicians explain the strategic necessity.

Everyone has a job.

Some jobs are considerably more profitable than others.

And here comes the truly bipartisan part.

In April 2024, the House approved a major Ukraine assistance bill.

Every one of the 210 Democrats who voted supported it. So did 101 Republicans.

Another major bill involving Israel’s security and humanitarian assistance for Gaza and elsewhere received 173 Democratic votes and 193 Republican votes.

When discussing healthcare, housing or taxation, American politicians can disagree about virtually everything.

When discussing foreign military expenditure, cooperation can become positively athletic.

One almost expects the defence contractors to send thank-you cards to both parties.

Perhaps they already do.

Libya: regime change, with a laugh track

For those convinced that military intervention is an exclusively Republican enthusiasm, allow me to introduce Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton and a country called Libya.

In 2011, the Obama administration participated in Nato’s intervention against Muammar Gaddafi, initially authorised by the United Nations to protect civilians.

American and allied operations helped bring down his government, at an estimated American military cost of approximately US$1.1 billion by September 2011.

Gaddafi was hardly a model democrat. But after Nato aircraft struck his fleeing convoy, he was captured alive by Libyan fighters and subsequently died in circumstances that prompted serious allegations of unlawful killing.

And Hillary Clinton’s reaction to his death?

“We came, we saw, he died.”

She laughed.

A dictator was dead, a government had collapsed, and Libya was entering years of militia warfare, political fragmentation and instability.

America had helped remove the man.

The infinitely more complicated business of securing the country was another matter.

It’s remarkable how precisely Washington can calculate the cost of destroying military infrastructure, and how much harder it is to calculate the human consequences of what follows.

Then there is Afghanistan.

Contrary to the convenient political mythology, it was Trump who negotiated the February 2020 Doha agreement with the Taliban, establishing the framework for American withdrawal and reducing US troop levels to approximately 2,500 before leaving office.

Biden inherited that agreement, revised the deadline and completed the final withdrawal in August 2021.

Trump negotiated and initiated the final drawdown. Biden completed it.

Trump’s agreement excluded the Afghan government from the negotiations. Biden’s final evacuation unfolded amid chaos and the collapse of the Afghan state.

Neither administration deserves a spotless historical certificate.

But please spare us the fairy tale that Republicans start wars while Democrats graciously end them.

History has a rather irritating habit of refusing to cooperate with campaign slogans.

Both houses of Congress. Now what?

This is what makes the Democratic victory genuinely consequential.

They will control congressional committees, investigations, spending legislation and the Senate confirmation process when the new Congress convenes in January 2027.

Trump remains president and commander-in-chief, retaining substantial executive authority over diplomacy and military operations. He can veto legislation, and Congress would need supermajorities to override him.

Nevertheless, the Democrats will possess considerable legislative and oversight powers.

They can challenge appropriations, scrutinise arms sales and demand accountability.

The question is whether they will use those powers to reconsider policies their own party previously helped finance.

A political party that campaigns against a president’s foreign-policy decisions faces a rather different test when it acquires the authority to influence them.

And there are signs of genuine disagreements within the Democratic Party.

Consider Michigan.

Abdul El-Sayed’s election as America’s first Muslim senator is historic, particularly following a campaign containing religiously charged attacks.

Yet shortly before the election, Haley Stevens, the Democratic congresswoman defeated by El-Sayed in the primary, endorsed his Republican opponent, Mike Rogers.

A Democrat endorsing a Republican against her own party’s nominee.

The dispute involved Israel, campaign messaging and personal grievances, including Stevens’ claim that she had been excluded from El-Sayed’s campaign.

It exposed divisions that no congressional victory can magically erase.

Some newer Democratic politicians are questioning established foreign-policy positions. Others remain committed to them.

Which raises the most interesting question of all.

Who will actually lead the Democrats in 2028?

Can politicians challenging longstanding military commitments reshape the party’s programme?

Or will a future Democratic president, should one be elected, speak the language of reform while retaining much of the same security establishment?

Nobody knows.

One senator, however historic his election, cannot single-handedly rewrite decades of alliances, defence procurement and geopolitical commitments.

The Pentagon, after all, has rather more than one aircraft carrier.

Even Trump complicates the fairy tale

On November 3, Trump announced that America would end approximately US$4 billion in annual military assistance to Israel after 2026.

Donald Trump.

The arrangement he proposed ending had its roots in the ten-year agreement negotiated under Obama.

Before anyone commissions a statue of Trump holding a dove, however, this was an announcement, not an implemented cut. The agreement runs through 2028, Congress has authority over appropriations, and Trump indicated that arms sales could continue.

His administration’s war with Iran also demonstrates that reconsidering one military commitment does not make a president opposed to military intervention.

But the announcement challenged a longstanding arrangement supported by successive Democratic and Republican administrations.

Which is precisely why American foreign policy cannot be understood through the comforting fiction that one party is invariably militaristic while the other is invariably humanitarian.

Reality has a dreadful habit of being less convenient than political advertising.

Asean, the election is American. The consequences are ours

For Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam and the Philippines, American politics is not some distant television entertainment.

Its consequences arrive in freight charges, energy prices, tariffs, market access and the cost of doing business.

Trump escalated America’s tariff confrontation with China.

Biden retained many of those tariffs and increased duties on Chinese electric vehicles to 100%.

Apparently, protectionism becomes considerably more sophisticated when delivered in complete sentences.

Washington’s interests in the South China Sea, Taiwan Strait, semiconductors and maritime trade routes have persisted across administrations.

American policy does change, sometimes substantially. But central strategic interests frequently survive changes in political leadership.

Asean therefore needs relationships based on mutual interests, not sentimental interpretations of American election results.

Our countries have different security requirements and diplomatic priorities. What they share is a stake in regional stability, diversified trade, resilient energy supplies and independent foreign-policy judgment.

For those who hope the new Congress will bring a different American approach to Palestine, the test is equally straightforward.

Examine the appropriations.

Examine the weapons transfers.

Examine the votes.

And in 2028, examine the presidential candidate the Democrats actually choose.

Because the financial record matters more than the campaign slogans.

Obama negotiated the US$38 billion Israel assistance framework.

Biden presided over US$12.5 billion in Israeli military and missile-defence assistance in fiscal 2024 alone, while substantial weapons transfers continued during the Gaza war.

Congress enacted US$174.2 billion in emergency funding responding to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, with support from both parties.

These decisions arose in different circumstances and served different declared purposes. They do not prove that Democrats and Republicans are identical.

But they demonstrate that the institutions, interests and commitments shaping American foreign policy are considerably more durable than individual administrations.

That is the distinction Asean must understand

The Democrats have won an extraordinary electoral victory. Their new congressional power may produce important changes, and those changes deserve to be judged on their merits.

But victory speeches are not foreign policy.

And elections are not guarantees.

So congratulations to the Democrats. Commiserations to the Republicans.

And to those of us in Asia, perhaps we should leave the champagne unopened until we see what actually changes.

America has voted for change. Our responsibility is to distinguish the change it has voted for from the change the rest of the world merely hopes for.

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

NOVEMBER 5 — The sweeping defeat of President Donald Trump’s Republican Party in the November 3, 2026, midterm elections is not merely an American political event. It is a strategic turning point with potentially profound consequences for Asean and East Asia.

With Democrats capturing both the House of Representatives and the Senate, Trump faces a political environment fundamentally different from the one that enabled his administration to pursue aggressive tariffs, military confrontation with Iran and highly transactional diplomacy.

The election results reflect growing American frustration over the cost of living, economic uncertainty and the prolonged war with Iran. 

Yet Asean and East Asia should not assume that Trump’s electoral defeat will automatically produce a more predictable United States.

Indeed, the opposite may occur.

A weakened Trump may become more conciliatory. Equally, he may become more confrontational internationally to compensate for his diminished authority domestically.

For Asean and East Asia, five strategic consequences deserve particular attention.

First, Trump’s political defeat does not mean the immediate disappearance of Trumpism.

Trump remains President until January 2029. His constitutional powers over foreign affairs, military deployments and executive decision-making remain considerable.

Even with Democrats controlling Congress from January 2027, reversing Trump’s tariffs or compelling an immediate withdrawal from military operations against Iran will remain difficult.

Trump can veto legislation. Overriding that veto requires a two-thirds majority in both chambers.

Consequently, Asean governments must distinguish between the weakening of Trump’s political legitimacy and the continuing strength of the American presidency.

The distinction is essential.

A president who has lost control of Congress can still inflict considerable economic and strategic uncertainty on the international system.

Second, Asean and East Asia must prepare for prolonged uncertainty in American trade policy.

Trump’s tariffs have already disrupted trade calculations across Southeast Asia.

Export-oriented economies such as Vietnam, Malaysia, Thailand and Indonesia have been forced to reassess their exposure to the American market.

Japan and South Korea, despite their longstanding alliances with Washington, have similarly discovered that strategic friendship offers no automatic protection from American economic nationalism.

The Democratic victory could generate stronger congressional scrutiny of tariffs and encourage Republicans who favour international trade to challenge Trump’s policies.

Donald Trump can veto legislation. Overriding that veto requires a two-thirds majority in both chambers.— AFP pic

Nevertheless, immediate tariff relief is far from guaranteed. 

Asean should therefore broaden and deepen its economic partnerships rather than wait for Washington to recover its commitment to predictable international trade.

The Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership must become more than an agreement that exists largely on paper.

It should become an increasingly important foundation of regional economic resilience.

The same applies to Asean’s economic engagement with China, Japan, South Korea, India, the European Union and the Gulf countries.

Economic diversification is no longer merely desirable.

It has become a strategic necessity.

Third, the war with Iran has demonstrated that American foreign policy can generate severe economic consequences far beyond the Middle East.

The prolonged disruption of the Strait of Hormuz has exposed the vulnerability of Asian economies to energy insecurity.

Japan and South Korea remain heavily dependent on imported energy.

China, despite its extensive investments in renewable energy and alternative supply routes, is not immune to disruptions in Gulf oil shipments.

Asean faces equally serious challenges.

The Philippines has experienced acute energy insecurity, while several Southeast Asian governments have faced mounting subsidy burdens and pressure on public finances. 

For Malaysia, higher energy prices may benefit certain petroleum revenues while simultaneously increasing the costs of subsidies, transportation, manufacturing and household consumption.

The Democratic victory reflects, in part, American dissatisfaction with the economic consequences of the Iran war.

However, congressional investigations and criticism of the administration will not necessarily produce an immediate ceasefire.

Asean and East Asia must therefore become more active diplomatic stakeholders in efforts to stabilise the Middle East.

Malaysia should continue supporting negotiations involving Iran, the Gulf states and the countries associated with the Mecca Pact.

Japan, China and South Korea should also recognise that their economic interests increasingly converge around the restoration of secure maritime energy routes.

Energy security cannot remain divorced from diplomacy.

Fourth, Trump’s weakened presidency could complicate rather than simplify relations between Washington and Beijing.

This is perhaps the most consequential strategic uncertainty confronting East Asia.

Trump has demonstrated a willingness to negotiate directly with President Xi Jinping, even while maintaining economic and technological pressure on China.

A Democratic-controlled Congress, however, is unlikely to become substantially softer towards Beijing.

Indeed, bipartisan concerns over Chinese technological capabilities, advanced semiconductors, artificial intelligence and military modernisation could generate even stronger legislative restrictions.

Analysts have already identified the possibility of tougher congressional scrutiny of Trump’s dealings with China. 

This creates an unusual strategic contradiction.

Trump may seek a transactional understanding with Xi, while Congress pushes for a more restrictive technological and security relationship.

Japan, South Korea and Taiwan could consequently find themselves caught between competing American approaches towards China.

For Asean, the dangers are equally substantial.

The region must resist being drawn into an increasingly rigid division between American and Chinese technological ecosystems.

Artificial intelligence, semiconductor supply chains, data governance and digital infrastructure should not become instruments of compulsory geopolitical alignment.

Asean must pursue digital sovereignty while broadening and deepening its partnerships with all major technological powers.

The objective should be strategic autonomy without strategic isolation.

Fifth, Trump’s defeat creates an opportunity for Asean and East Asia to demonstrate greater collective diplomatic leadership.

For decades, East Asian regionalism has operated within a strategic environment shaped heavily by American military power and economic influence.

That reality will not disappear.

Yet the midterm elections demonstrate the extent to which American foreign policy can be constrained, redirected or destabilised by domestic political struggles.

Japan cannot assume that Washington will always provide consistent strategic leadership.

South Korea must prepare for further uncertainty concerning American security commitments and trade arrangements.

China must recognise that an increasingly divided United States may produce contradictory policies rather than a coherent long-term strategy.

Asean, meanwhile, cannot afford to remain merely reactive.

The Philippines, as Asean Chair in 2026, has an important opportunity to strengthen regional coordination before handing over the chairmanship.

More fundamentally, Asean Plus Three should be revitalised as a practical framework for cooperation on energy security, supply chains, financial stability and technological governance.

China, Japan and South Korea possess enormous industrial, financial and technological capabilities.

Asean provides a regional diplomatic platform that can help these three powers cooperate despite their historical and strategic differences.

This is where the Asean will must replace excessive diplomatic caution.

The region should not simply wait for the United States to determine the direction of Asian security.

It must increasingly shape that direction itself.

There is also a deeper lesson from Trump’s electoral defeat.

American voters have demonstrated that economic grievances cannot indefinitely be displaced by political spectacle, nationalist rhetoric or foreign military adventures.

The cost-of-living matters.

The price of energy matters.

The affordability of food, housing and transportation matters.

These concerns are equally relevant across Asean and East Asia.

Governments that fail to recognise the relationship between geopolitical decisions and household economic security risk discovering the political consequences at the ballot box.

Trump’s defeat is therefore more than a warning to American Republicans.

It is a reminder that foreign policy must ultimately serve the economic well-being and security of ordinary citizens.

For Asean and East Asia, the immediate challenge is not to celebrate Trump’s political difficulties.

Nor should the region assume that the Democrats will necessarily restore the American internationalism of earlier decades.

The challenge is to recognise that American political uncertainty has become a structural feature of the international system.

Trump may choose confrontation with the Democrats. He may equally choose accommodation to preserve what remains of his political legacy.

Either way, Asean and East Asia must not allow their strategic futures to depend excessively on the political calculations of one American president.

The most important consequence of the 2026 midterms may therefore be the acceleration of an Asian realisation: regional stability, economic resilience and diplomatic initiative must increasingly be generated within Asia itself.

Trump has lost control of Congress. But Asean and East Asia must not lose control of their own strategic destinies.

That is the larger lesson of November 3, 2026.

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD is the Professor of Asean Studies at International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

NOVEMBER 4 — Your child scored straight As. The family is celebrating, social media is flooded with congratulatory messages, and relatives are proudly sharing the good news. But here is an uncomfortable question. Can your brilliant child solve a problem without being told what to do? Can they handle failure, communicate confidently, or make a responsible decision when nobody is supervising? If the answer is no, perhaps we should reconsider what exactly we are celebrating.

For decades, Malaysian parents have been conditioned to believe that examination results are the ultimate measure of intelligence and success. We spend thousands on tuition, sacrifice weekends for extra classes, and turn childhood into an endless race for grades. Yet, we rarely ask whether our children are becoming capable human beings or merely excellent examination candidates.

Examinations have their place. They measure certain knowledge and skills. However, when grades become the sole definition of achievement, education loses much of its purpose. A child who memorises every scientific formula but cannot apply scientific reasoning to everyday problems has learned something, but perhaps not enough. Interestingly, several education systems are already challenging this obsession.

Finland offers a lesson. Its national curriculum requires schools to conduct multidisciplinary learning modules that connect classroom knowledge with real-world issues. Students are encouraged to explore problems, collaborate and develop practical solutions. Learning is not simply about reproducing textbook answers but understanding how knowledge works beyond the classroom.

Children who never experience setbacks may struggle when adulthood refuses to provide second chances. — Picture by Yusof Mat Isa

More importantly, international research supports this direction. The OECD's 2024 report, Social and Emotional Skills for Better Lives, found that curiosity, persistence, responsibility and self-control were consistently associated with stronger academic performance. These findings remind us that developing character and learning dispositions need not come at the expense of academic achievement. So, what should Malaysian parents and teachers prioritise?

First, teach children to think, not merely remember. Instead of asking how many marks they obtained, ask what they learned, which questions challenged them and how they arrived at their answers. Encourage them to question respectfully, defend their opinions and consider alternative solutions.

Second, allow children to experience failure. Not every disappointment requires parental intervention. Children who never experience setbacks may struggle when adulthood refuses to provide second chances. Resilience develops when children learn to recover, reflect and try again.

Third, make communication and collaboration part of everyday learning. Let students organise activities, debate issues, work with different personalities and resolve disagreements. A student who scores 95 in English but cannot confidently express an opinion still has important learning to do.

Fourth, give children meaningful responsibilities. Managing pocket money, helping at home, volunteering and solving community problems teach initiative, empathy and accountability. These lessons cannot always be measured through written examinations.

Teachers, too, must reconsider whether constant worksheets and examination drills genuinely develop independent learners. Parents must resist turning every hobby into another competition and every conversation into a discussion about grades. Most importantly, schools should celebrate improvement, creativity, kindness and perseverance with the same enthusiasm reserved for straight-A students.

Malaysia does not need to abandon examinations. It needs to abandon the dangerous belief that examinations reveal everything worth knowing about a child. After all, the real world does not always present four multiple-choice answers. Sometimes there is no correct answer, no marking scheme and certainly no teacher providing hints. Perhaps the greatest failure of our education system would be producing a generation that knows how to pass every examination but struggles to face life's challenges. When that happens, whose report card should we examine?

*Assoc. Prof. Dr. Muhammad Noor Abdul Aziz and Prof. Dr. Nurahimah Mohd Yusoff are from the School of Education, Universiti Utara Malaysia.

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

NOV 4 — The sweeping setback suffered by President Donald Trump and his Make America Great Again (MAGA) movement in the November 3, 2026, midterm elections offers a sobering lesson in American democracy.

No amount of political theatrics, nationalist rhetoric or presidential bravado can indefinitely overcome two fundamental concerns of ordinary Americans: the cost of living and the exhaustion brought about by prolonged warfare.

The Democrats’ reported electoral gains represent a major setback for Trump’s Republican Party, demonstrating the breadth of the political backlash.

But this election should not be understood merely as a Democratic victory.

It represents a serious challenge to the political assumptions that have sustained MAGA since Trump’s first presidential campaign in 2016.

For years, Trump successfully presented himself as the champion of forgotten Americans, especially working-class families struggling with economic insecurity, declining purchasing power and distrust of Washington.

Yet the 2026 midterms reveal the limitations of political loyalty when economic hardship becomes increasingly difficult to endure.

The first and most important factor is affordability.

Election-day polling indicates that the cost of living was among the most important considerations for American voters. 

Many blamed Trump for persistently high prices and expressed dissatisfaction with the country’s direction.

These sentiments are politically significant.

Trump returned to the White House in January 2025 promising to restore American prosperity and address inflation.

Yet many American households continued to struggle with the prices of groceries, housing, electricity, transport and healthcare.

The distinction between macroeconomic performance and household economic security has become increasingly apparent.

A government may point to investment, industrial expansion or stock market performance. 

But ordinary voters judge economic success through their monthly expenses.

When salaries cannot comfortably cover basic necessities, presidential claims of economic achievement become less persuasive.

The second factor is the war with Iran.

Trump’s political appeal had long rested partly on his criticism of America’s costly military interventions abroad.

He portrayed himself as a leader who would prevent endless wars and compel other countries to assume greater responsibility for their security.

Yet the American military campaign against Iran, beginning in February 2026, created a contradiction between that political image and the realities of his second administration.

The war’s disruption of energy supplies, particularly through the Strait of Hormuz, exposed American households to higher fuel costs and broader economic uncertainty.

This was not merely a foreign policy issue.

It became a domestic economic burden.

The connection matters because energy prices affect transportation, manufacturing, agriculture, food distribution and household expenditure.

The war therefore brought together two sources of public dissatisfaction that might otherwise have remained separate.

Americans were not simply questioning why their country was fighting another Middle Eastern war. 

Many were also questioning why the economic consequences of that war had reached their own homes.

Public opposition to the military campaign reinforced the impression that Trump’s administration had become entangled in precisely the kind of costly foreign intervention that MAGA once promised to avoid.

The third factor is the growing distance between MAGA’s ideological commitments and the practical priorities of American voters.

MAGA has always been more than an electoral slogan.

It is a political movement built around national identity, immigration, economic nationalism, resentment of established institutions and loyalty to Trump.

These themes remain influential among substantial sections of the Republican electorate.

Indeed, the midterm defeat does not establish that MAGA has disappeared or that its supporters have abandoned Trump.

But it does demonstrate that an intensely committed political base cannot necessarily compensate for dissatisfaction among independent voters, moderates and less ideologically motivated Republicans.

The fourth factor concerns Trump’s reliance on confrontation as an instrument of political leadership.

His administration has embraced tariffs, aggressive immigration enforcement and repeated disputes with domestic and international institutions.

Supporters defend these policies as necessary measures to restore American sovereignty, protect domestic industry and strengthen national security.

Critics argue that tariffs have contributed to higher consumer costs and that confrontation has generated unnecessary economic uncertainty.

The midterm results indicate that such competing arguments are no longer being assessed solely through ideological loyalty.

They are increasingly being judged through their material consequences.

The fifth factor is the demand for institutional checks and balances.

Many voters have expressed a desire for Congress to exercise greater restraint over presidential power.

This suggests that the election was also about the concentration of authority in Washington.

A stronger Democratic presence in Congress would subject Trump’s remaining two years in office to greater legislative scrutiny, possible investigations and potentially prolonged confrontations over federal spending and executive authority.

Trump retains his presidential veto and considerable executive powers.

Consequently, the electoral setback does not automatically end his political influence or policy agenda.

It does, however, substantially alter the institutional environment in which he must govern.

The sixth factor is the larger historical lesson.

American presidents frequently discover that foreign policy ambitions cannot be separated from domestic economic conditions.

Lyndon Johnson’s presidency was undermined by the Vietnam War.

George W. Bush faced mounting public dissatisfaction over Iraq and the financial crisis.

Joe Biden confronted persistent voter frustration over inflation despite his administration’s emphasis on employment and economic recovery.

Trump now confronts his own version of this enduring contradiction.

The language of national greatness becomes politically vulnerable when citizens believe their personal circumstances are deteriorating.

For Malaysia and Asean, the implications deserve serious attention.

A weakened Trump administration may face stronger domestic constraints, but this does not necessarily mean that American foreign policy will become more predictable.

Congressional confrontation could complicate trade negotiations, security commitments, tariffs and diplomatic initiatives.

The Iran war also demonstrates how conflicts thousands of kilometres away can undermine economic security across Southeast Asia.

Malaysia and Asean must therefore broaden and deepen their diplomatic and economic relationships while continuing to engage Washington constructively.

The region should avoid assuming that Democratic gains in Congress necessarily guarantee a softer American approach towards China, international trade or regional security.

A weakened Trump administration may face stronger domestic constraints, but this does not necessarily mean that American foreign policy will become more predictable. — AFP pic

American strategic competition with China enjoys support across party lines, even where Democrats and Republicans disagree over methods.

Ultimately, the 2026 midterms reveal something more enduring than the electoral difficulties of one president.

They demonstrate that political movements cannot indefinitely substitute identity, ideology and confrontation for tangible economic improvements.

MAGA’s future will depend partly on whether its leaders can reconcile their nationalist ambitions with the everyday expectations of American households.

The Democrats, too, must recognise that electoral dissatisfaction with Trump does not automatically constitute lasting confidence in their own economic programme.

They will eventually be judged by the same standards of affordability, security and effective governance.

For Trump, the message from the midterms is especially consequential.

His promise to make America great again was ultimately tested against the cost of making ends meet and the burden of another war.

The voters’ verdict suggests that political greatness cannot be sustained through slogans alone.

It must be experienced in the lives of ordinary citizens.

And when the price of living rises alongside the price of war, even the most powerful political movements can find their electoral foundations shaken.

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD is the Professor of Asean Studies at International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

NOVEMBER 4 — At the 2026 Oils and Fats International Conference (OFIC), a paper laid bare a question that has long perplexed the industry: why does palm oil—the most land-efficient oil crop in the world—remain saddled with a negative label in Western public discourse?

The evidence says only about 2 per cent of global deforestation can be attributed to oil palm expansion. Yet almost no one talks about the other 98 per cent. When wildfires break out in the West, the default narrative is “climate change” and “global warming”; when fires and haze occur in Southeast Asia, fingers point squarely at palm oil companies.

According to research published in Europe PMC, forest conversion driven by oil palm expansion declined sharply after 2015—from an annual average of 342,000 hectares to roughly 80,000 hectares. Oil palm’s share of global forest loss fell from 12.2 per cent before 2015 to just 2.2 per cent after 2016. A 2026 study in Nature Food likewise found that, between 2001 and 2022, pasture expansion accounted for about 42 per cent of global commodity-driven deforestation. In terms of land-use efficiency, oil palm occupies just 5 per cent to 5.5 per cent of global oilseed crop area yet meets roughly 40% of global vegetable oil demand. If the world is looking for a way to produce the most oil from the least land, oil palm is virtually irreplaceable.

The problem is precisely this: the evidence exists, but the narrative is absent.

According to research published in Europe PMC, forest conversion driven by oil palm expansion declined sharply after 2015—from an annual average of 342,000 hectares to roughly 80,000 hectares. — Pexels pic

The industry has long been in a defensive posture rather than actively shaping the narrative. As Western media spent two decades bashing palm oil, the industry’s primary response was the promotion of certification schemes such as RSPO and MSPO. Certification matters, but it is a language of compliance, not a language of persuasion. For ordinary consumers and Western policymakers, a certificate carries far less impact than an image of an orangutan losing its home.

While the “2 per cent vs. 98 per cent” contrast is powerful, it requires a more sophisticated communications strategy. Saying bluntly that “livestock is the real culprit” is easily read in Western contexts as deflection. Effective communication requires first making clear what palm oil itself has improved, then introducing the comparative framework—not leading with blame-shifting.

The major palm oil producers are Malaysia and Indonesia, while discursive and regulatory power has long been concentrated in the West. When Western agricultural interest groups—soy, rapeseed, dairy—command stronger lobbying capacity and media channels, palm oil’s “silence” is not accidental. The EU’s Deforestation Regulation (EUDR) listed palm oil among its first regulated commodities while granting longer grace periods to beef and soy, which drive comparable deforestation. This selective “strictness” is itself worth questioning.

Harvard research has quantified the impact of climate change on wildfires in the western United States: between 1997 and 2020, warming directly contributed to roughly 65 per cent of burned area. Research in Science Advances further shows that without the increase in heatwave days, cumulative burned forest area in the western U.S. would have been about 37 per cent lower. These studies reveal the real dangers of climate change. But note the asymmetry: when Western fires occur, the starting point of discussion is “systemic climate crisis”; when Southeast Asian fires occur, the starting point is “the greed of palm oil companies.” The same fire, different attribution frameworks.

If “climate change” can explain California’s fires, why can it not also be a significant variable in Indonesia’s? The double standard lies not in “whether climate is mentioned” but in “whether climate factors are treated with equal seriousness.”

The palm oil industry needs to shift from “responding to accusations” to “actively setting the agenda.”

On communication, the “2 per cent” story must be told alongside “the silence of the 98 per cent,” but through data rather than emotion. There is a lesson from the tobacco industry: the most effective counter is not denying problems but acknowledging history, demonstrating improvement, and asking why other industries are not held to the same standard.

On policy, Malaysia and Indonesia can use the Asean framework to push for “symmetric sustainability standards.” If Europe demands zero deforestation from palm oil, should the beef and soy it imports be subject to the same standard? This is not confrontation; it is a demand for logical consistency.

On science, platforms like Mosta should more actively fund and publish cross-commodity comparative research, placing palm oil’s environmental performance in a reference frame alongside pasture, soy, and rapeseed. The evidence already exists; what is missing is the channel to bring it into mainstream discussion.

The problem facing the palm oil industry is fundamentally not “whether there is evidence” but “who is telling the story.” In an attention-scarce environment where narrative precedes fact, silence will not buy fairness—it will only let someone else’s version become the default version.

*Professor Datuk  Ahmad Ibrahim is affiliated with the Tan Sri Omar Centre for STI Policy Studies at UCSI University and is an Adjunct Professor at the Ungku Aziz Centre for Development Studies, Universiti Malaya. He can be reached at ahmadibrahim@ucsiuniversity.edu.my.

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

NOVEMBER 4 — Ask any Malaysian cook why a plate of nasi campur costs more than it did a few years ago, and the answer will rarely begin with the weather. It should. Every northeast monsoon, flooded fields in Johor, Perak and Kelantan push up wet market prices within weeks, and those prices travel into every kitchen in the country, from the home stove to the school canteen.

Extreme weather is no longer just a weather story. It is a food security story, and increasingly a national security one. At its centre is the food service sector: the restaurants, mamak stalls, hospitals and schools that feed Malaysians outside the home. This is where rising ingredient costs are quietly turned into smaller portions, cheaper substitutes and poorer diets.

The pattern is painfully familiar. Heavy rain floods lowland farms, and within a week the price of everyday greens such as sawi, bayam and kangkung can jump 50 to 80 per cent, sometimes passing RM8 a kilogramme. Leafy vegetables are hit first because they grow fast, rot quickly when waterlogged and are almost never stockpiled. The cycle repeats every monsoon, yet it is treated as a surprise every time.

The real concern is how fragile our supply is. Malaysia grows less than half of the vegetables it eats. Some leafy greens are self-sufficient on paper, but they are grown in flood-prone areas with no buffer stock, and when the same monsoon hits growers in Thailand and Vietnam, imports cannot fill the gap. Self-sufficiency on paper is not resilience in practice.

Food service absorbs these shocks out of sight. Operators usually aim to keep ingredient costs at about a third of the menu price. When a key ingredient triples in price, that ratio collapses. Facing price-sensitive customers, most operators swallow the loss at first, but that cannot last. Cheaper cabbage and bean sprouts replace pricier greens. The rice and fried protein stay on the plate, but the vegetables grow thinner.

Institutional kitchens are even more exposed because their budgets are fixed per head. Canteen operators under the Supplementary Food Programme (RMT) receive RM3.50 per meal in the peninsula and RM4.00 in Sabah, Sarawak and Labuan. Hospitals, boarding schools and universities run on similar fixed contracts. When prices rise mid-term, there is no menu price to adjust. The only thing that changes is what goes on the tray, and the cheapest calories are rarely the healthiest.

Low-income households face the same squeeze. When vegetables and protein become expensive, B40 families do not stop eating; they eat worse. Instant noodles, white bread, fried snacks and sugary drinks give the most calories per ringgit. They fill the stomach but leave the body short of fibre, iron, zinc and vitamins.

Canteen operators under the Supplementary Food Programme receive RM3.50 per meal in the peninsula and RM4.00 in Sabah, Sarawak and Labuan. — Picture via Wikimedia

This is how a price spike becomes a health crisis. Malaysia already carries a double burden of malnutrition, with undernutrition and obesity side by side, often in the same household. National health surveys show that more than half of Malaysian adults are overweight or obese, while about one in five children under five is stunted, a share that has risen over the past decade. A stunted child and an overweight parent eating from the same pot of instant noodles is no contradiction. It is the predictable result of a food environment in which healthy eating has become a luxury, and whatever we save on cheap meals today will be dwarfed by the cost of treating diet-related disease tomorrow.

Because food service shapes what millions of Malaysians eat every day, it is one of the most practical policy levers we have. Three steps would make a difference.

First, institutional meal rates should follow food prices. A fixed RM3.50 cannot buy the same plate in a flood month as in a dry one. An automatic top-up when a supply emergency is declared would stop children’s nutrition from becoming the shock absorber.

Second, menus should be planned around nutrients, not just dishes. The Malaysian Healthy Plate, or suku-suku separuh, already calls for half the plate to be fruit and vegetables. Pre-approved substitution lists, swapping flood-sensitive greens for pumpkin, cabbage, carrots, legumes or frozen vegetables, would let kitchens protect that half without breaking their budgets.

Third, schools and hospitals should sign forward contracts with farmers who use rain shelters, fertigation or highland plots. Guaranteed demand gives growers a reason to invest in climate-resilient produce.

Another northeast monsoon is on its way. Malaysia cannot stop the rain, but it can decide who pays for it. Right now, that burden falls on schoolchildren, patients and low-income families. Treating food service as frontline food security infrastructure, with flexible budgets, nutrient-based menus and climate-resilient sourcing, would keep one bad harvest from becoming a generation of poor health.

* The authors are Mohd Zulfakar Mohd Nawi, Senior Lecturer at the Department of Professional Education and Postgraduates, Faculty of Technical and Vocational Education, Universiti Tun Hussein Onn Malaysia , and Salme Yahya, Senior Lecturer at the Faculty of Hospitality, Tourism and Wellness, Universiti Malaysia Kelantan.

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

Nov 4 — President Donald Trump has already signalled how he intends to govern should the Republicans lose control of both the House of Representatives and the Senate. He will become “Mr Veto”.

Speaking ahead of the November 3, 2026 midterm elections, Trump declared that he would veto legislation passed by a Democratic-controlled Congress, although he acknowledged that negotiations could eventually follow.

His remarks were not merely campaign rhetoric. 

They revealed a potential strategy for governing under divided government, with the presidency and Congress controlled by opposing parties.

For the United States, this raises an important constitutional question. 

How effectively can the world’s most powerful presidency function when its legislative branch becomes an institutional counterweight ?

The American Constitution was deliberately designed to prevent the concentration of power in any single institution. Congress legislates. 

The president executes laws. The judiciary interprets their constitutionality.

Yet the practical functioning of this arrangement depends on compromise.

Trump’s proposed reliance on vetoes could place that principle under considerable strain.

A presidential veto is constitutionally legitimate. Congress can override it with a two-thirds majority in both chambers.

But when vetoes become a systematic negotiating instrument, the legislative process can become increasingly confrontational.

There is an important distinction between vetoing legislation because of substantive disagreement and using repeated vetoes to force political concessions.

Trump appears to contemplate both.

Indeed, he has suggested that after a period of vetoes, Democrats would eventually return to the negotiating table.

Such an approach could produce agreements. It could equally prolong legislative deadlock.

More importantly, a Democratic takeover of Congress would not necessarily render Trump powerless.

Reports indicate that White House officials have been examining how the administration could continue implementing policies through executive authority.

These include immigration restrictions, tariffs, housing policies and federal expenditure.

This suggests that Trump is preparing for two parallel forms of government.

The first would involve resisting congressional legislation through presidential vetoes.

The second would involve advancing his administration’s priorities through executive orders and existing statutory powers.

Both approaches have constitutional foundations, although executive actions remain subject to statutory limits and judicial review.

The consequences would extend far beyond Washington.

For Asean, the prospect of prolonged confrontation between the White House and Congress introduces another dimension of uncertainty.

Trade policies could remain subject to presidential initiatives, while congressional oversight could intensify.

US President Donald Trump delivers remarks during a campaign rally at the Ocean Center Arena in Daytona Beach, Florida on October 30, 2026. — AFP pic

Tariffs, export controls and technology restrictions could therefore remain contentious even under divided government.

Malaysia and other Asean economies would need to distinguish between policies that the American president can implement independently and those requiring congressional approval.

This distinction matters especially for semiconductor supply chains, artificial intelligence, energy security and investment.

American foreign policy would also face competing pressures.

Congress possesses substantial authority over appropriations, sanctions legislation and oversight.

The president, meanwhile, retains considerable authority over diplomacy and military command, subject to constitutional and statutory constraints.

In an increasingly unstable international environment, institutional disagreements in Washington could complicate the consistency of American commitments.

However, divided government need not automatically produce paralysis.

American history demonstrates that presidents and opposition-controlled legislatures can reach consequential agreements.

Trump himself confronted a Democratic-controlled House during the latter half of his first presidency.

The critical issue is therefore not whether Trump possesses veto authority. 

He unquestionably does.

It is whether that authority becomes an instrument for eventual compromise or a prolonged confrontation between two branches of government.

For Malaysia and Asean, the appropriate response is neither alarm nor complacency.

Regional governments must broaden and deepen their diplomatic and economic relationships while maintaining constructive engagement with Washington.

They must also recognise that American political institutions are capable of both conflict and correction.

Ultimately, Trump’s declaration that he could become “Mr Veto” reveals the central dilemma of his remaining presidency.

The president may retain substantial executive authority even without congressional majorities.

But executive power cannot replace every function of Congress.

The real test of American democracy will not be how many bills Trump vetoes, but whether the presidency and Congress can continue governing despite their differences.

For a world already confronting geopolitical conflict, economic fragmentation and technological disruption, that distinction could prove consequential.

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD is the Professor of Asean Studies at International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

NOVEMBER 3 — In recent months, three seismic global milestones characterised a fundamentally altered economic order.

First came the historic public listing of SpaceX in the United States, debuting at an unprecedented valuation exceeding US$1.7 trillion (RM5.41 trillion).

SpaceX is not building products merely for domestic or international markets; it is laying the groundwork for an interplanetary economy.

Second, the short-lived June ceasefire agreement between the United States and Iran offered a fleeting geopolitical respite.

Crude oil prices promptly plummeted from over US$120 in April to $70 per barrel by late June, before the accord broke down a fortnight later, driving Brent crude back to hovering around US$100.

Third, China’s Moonshot AI unveiled Kimi K3, a 2.8-trillion-parameter open-weight model matching leading Western proprietary systems such as ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini, while reported to consume 40 per cent to 50 per cent less compute and power.

Alongside President Xi Jinping’s defining keynote on global AI governance at the 2026 World AI Conference in Shanghai, the release triggered what some commentators view as a modern “AI Sputnik moment.”

These events underscore our operating reality: hyper-velocity in technological disruption, hyper-voracity in multipolar superpower competition, and hyper-volatility across trade and supply networks due to the modern world being in a state of perpetual crisis, or permacrisis.

This is what I call the global hyper-flux condition, sparked by the pandemic years that laid bare the precarity of national and international systems, and deepened by aggressive superpower rivalry across every sector.

For an open economy like Malaysia, the old playbook no longer applies.

At a recent SME forum, a respected industry leader remarked that businesses require three things above all: certainty, certainty, and certainty.

Yet in a hyper-flux era, guaranteed certainty is an illusion. In fact, the world’s highest-valued frontier enterprises do not wait for clarity. They capitalise on volatility and make bold, long-term bets.

While absolute predictability is gone, Malaysia can still thrive by mastering three strategic pivots.

1. Monetise reliability, not cheapness

Twenty years ago, when I worked in a multinational manufacturing plant in Penang, our entire operational mantra was “Just-in-Time” (JIT): minimise inventory, keep cash moving, run lean.

Today, disruptions, from pandemic-era lockdowns to chokepoints along Hormuz and Bab el-Mandeb, have elevated security to a core market premium. The operational mindset has shifted to balancing Just-in-Time with a Just-in-Case (JIC) scenario.

Look at why the F1 Bahrain Grand Prix moved to Sepang recently. First, because of regional conflict. But second, because Malaysia was ready, neutral, and safe.

In a hyper-flux world of uncertainty, being available and being safe are economic advantages.

For decades, our pitch to foreign investors was a race to the bottom: “Come here, we have cheap land, cheap power, cheap water, and cheap labour.” That era is finished. Our task today is to monetise readiness, monetise redundancy, and monetise stability.

2. Convert geopolitical centrality into geo-economic capital

Malaysia’s advantage is not that we stand outside geopolitical competition. It is that we remain connected to multiple centres of economic power.

The winners in today’s hyper-flux environment are countries that can pick up the phone and cut deals on tariffs and traffic. If you have leaders who can pick up the phone and ask, “Can you reduce my tariff? Can you let my ship pass?”, then you win.

In a fragmented global landscape, advantage belongs to nations capable of bridging divides.

Some critics question why Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim spends so much energy on foreign affairs and international summits. To me, that misses the point of modern statecraft. A national leader today must act like an active CEO: building strategic goodwill, managing stakeholder risk, and engaging the market.

The logic applies: more friends mean bigger markets.

Today, by maintaining constructive relationships across competing blocs, we strengthen our ability to safeguard shipping routes, secure energy supplies and preserve access to markets in both East and West.

3. Shift from cost centre to value centre

For decades, pricing competitiveness was one of Malaysia’s principal investment advantages. It helped us industrialise. But the factors that brought us this far will not be sufficient to take us to the next stage.

Competing on price alone is a losing game. It turns the regional economy into a pasar malam, where stall after stall undercuts the next until nobody makes a profit and wages stagnate.

The only sustainable defense against hyper-flux is value creation. The traditional Made-in-Malaysia assembly model must evolve into a Made-by-Malaysia innovation engine.

When I visited an automated test equipment (ATE) firm in Penang recently, I asked them straight: “Are you worried about tariffs? Are you worried competitors will reverse-engineer your tech?”

Their answer was telling: “No, because by the time they figure it out, we’ve already moved on to the next generation.”

In other words, they don’t rely on being cheap, they rely on staying ahead.

Becoming an AI nation: Wrapping the AI cake

But there is a deeper question. How does a relatively small country like Malaysia move up the value chain when we are not able to compete with the largest economies in market size, capital or research budgets?

We cannot simply work longer hours or build more factories. We must multiply the value of our knowledge, our skills and our industrial experience.

This is where artificial intelligence becomes strategically important. Not because AI replaces our existing strengths, but because it can amplify them.

It allows our engineers to solve more complex problems, our factories to detect defects earlier, and our small businesses to reach customers they could never reach before.

In other words, AI offers Malaysia an opportunity to turn our accumulated industrial experience into a new competitive advantage.

What does it mean to become an AI nation?

Merely buying high-end AI licenses without transforming our ecosystem is akin to buying the latest iPhone just to send SMS and make voice calls. It simply becomes a very expensive Nokia 3310.

Do not be mistaken, AI is not an IT procurement exercise. It is a foundational, civilisational shift akin to electrification a century ago.

When electricity arrived, the societies that flourished were not the ones that clung to pelita and kerosene lamps waiting to see what happened.

The winners rewired their factories, reinvented appliances, revised school syllabus, redesigned their towns, and remodeled their entire economies around a new source of power.

AI rewards those who learn quickly. Organisations that deploy it intelligently can accumulate better data, develop stronger capabilities, redesign their processes and improve with each iteration.

The advantage is not simply being first. It is learning faster than everyone else.

If we hesitate and take a wait-and-see approach, we don’t just fall behind, we may get locked out completely.

Jensen Huang of Nvidia famously described AI as a five-layer cake: energy, silicon, infrastructure, models, and applications.

For Malaysia to digest and master this cake, we need what I call a Triple-i three-layer wrapper:

Layer 1: Intelligence (Knowledge). At the top level, we need technical depth. This is why the government is accelerating dedicated AI faculties, institutes, and university curriculums to train our coders, engineers, data scientists and technologists.

But technical depth alone is not enough. We equally need broad-based mass literacy. AI touches every layer of daily life.

Ordinary Malaysians must know how to adopt and adapt AI. Crucially, a literate public is the only way we can have an honest, informed national dialogue on how our AI future should look.

Layer 2: Infrastructure. Beyond reliable power grids, water resources, and high-speed Internet, an AI model is only as intelligent as the data that feeds it.

Two competing enterprises can buy the exact same AI model off the shelf. What creates the winning edge is proprietary domain data: decades of localised customer behaviour or years of shop-floor yield figures. We must treat our sovereign and industrial data as national economic fuel, organising, securing, and enriching it locally.

Layer 3: Institutions. The protective wrapper is our institutional framework. Writing algorithms may be the job of computer scientists, but establishing the legal, ethical, and societal boundaries cannot be left to engineers, much less politicians alone.

Civil society, regulators, industry, the people in general must sit at the table to decide our safeguards, the risks mitigation, gains-and-losses management, etc.

We cannot afford to wait for an “AI Chernobyl”, or wake up to a missed-the-boat crisis, before setting this Triple-i ecosystem.

In an era of hyper-flux, waiting for certainty is a spectator’s trap. Malaysia does not start from zero.

We have an established industrial base, functioning institutions that we must continue to strengthen, and a strategic position in the global economy.

However, resting on past laurels will not save us. We must have the courage to rethink our economic model, and retool our nation for this new technological frontier.

The goal is not merely to survive the turbulence of our decade, but to secure success for our next generation.

* Steven Sim is the Minister of Entrepreneur Development and Co-operatives of Malaysia.

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

NOVEMBER 3 — Malaysia has a law to protect its critical systems. It has no law to answer when another state attacks them. Today's warning from the Prime Minister shows why that gap must close.

The Prime Minister has named a cyber warfare threat

When Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim told the Dewan Rakyat this morning that Malaysia is “certainly among those considered potential targets” of cyber and hybrid threats, he was describing more than crime. He was describing the possibility of cyber warfare: hostile action, likely state-linked, aimed at disrupting a nation's infrastructure and bending its will.

He gave two reasons. Our data centre and digital capacity now rivals Europe's. And our principled stand on Palestine and Gaza has made us unpopular in some capitals. Both are sources of national pride. Both also make us a target, at a time when attacks on portals, public registries and government systems have shaken Europe, the United States and Japan.

The government moved quickly: a special National Security Council meeting on Monday, a meeting of all departments under the Chief Secretary, a Bank Negara session with every financial institution, and a closed-door MKN briefing for MPs. These are the right first steps. But a nation cannot brief its way through a war. It needs law. And on cyber warfare, Malaysia has almost none.

Resilience without a warfare framework is incomplete

The Cyber Security Act 2024 (Act 854), in force since 26 August 2024, was a genuine milestone. It created a National Cyber Security Committee chaired by the Prime Minister, gave NACSA statutory teeth, and placed duties on National Critical Information Infrastructure (NCII) entities across eleven sectors: codes of practice, risk assessments, audits and incident notification.

But it is a resilience and compliance statute. It asks whether our critical operators are secure and whether they report incidents. It does not ask the question my doctoral research keeps returning to: what may Malaysia lawfully do when the attacker is a foreign state or its proxy, and the aim is coercion rather than theft?

Resilience is not only the ability to absorb a blow. It is also the ability to deter, respond and recover within the law. Without a cyber warfare legal framework, our resilience is half-built. Five gaps stand out:

1. No legal definition of cyber warfare. Our statutes do not distinguish a cyber crime, a cyber incident and a cyber attack by a state. Without that line, every response is improvised.
2. No threshold or escalation ladder. There is no legal test for when a cyber operation becomes a national emergency, or when it may amount to a use of force or armed attack under international law.
3. No attribution process. No statute says who decides that a state is behind an attack, on what evidence, and with what consequences.
4. No legal basis for response. The powers of NACSA, MKN, the Ministry of Defence and the Armed Forces to respond, including lawful countermeasures and active defence, are not set out in law.
5. No protection for civilians in cyber conflict. Our framework does not commit Malaysia, in law, to the principles of distinction and proportionality when it defends itself in cyberspace.

Estonia and Singapore treat cyber as a domain of war

Estonia learned the hard way. The 2007 attacks that paralysed its banks, media and ministries turned a small digital state into a global reference point on cyber warfare. It folded cyber into national defence: a military cyber command, a volunteer Cyber Defence Unit within its Defence League, NATO's cyber defence centre of excellence in Tallinn, and a “data embassy” abroad so the state can keep running if its own servers fall. For Estonia, cyber resilience and cyber defence are one policy.

Singapore built its framework in layers. Its 2018 Cybersecurity Act, the model for our own, protects critical infrastructure, and a 2024 amendment extended it to cloud, data centres and other digital foundations. But Singapore did not stop at regulation. It made Digital Defence a pillar of its Total Defence doctrine, and in 2022 created the Digital and Intelligence Service as a fourth branch of its armed forces. Its civilian resilience law sits alongside a clear military role in cyberspace.

The lesson is not to copy either state. It is that both treat cyberspace as a domain where war can be waged, and legislate accordingly. Malaysia still treats it mainly as a domain of compliance.

What a Malaysian Cyber Warfare Legal Framework should contain

I propose that the government begin drafting a Cyber Warfare Legal Framework, either as a dedicated National Cyber Defence Act or as a new Part of the Cyber Security Act 2024, with these elements:

1. Definitions and thresholds. Define cyber attack, state-sponsored cyber operation and cyber warfare, and set a clear ladder: cyber incident, national cyber emergency, and an attack amounting to use of force or armed attack under the UN Charter.
2. A statutory cyber emergency regime. Set out who may declare a national cyber emergency, the powers it unlocks (binding directions to operators, mandatory information sharing, emergency takedowns), and firm sunset clauses with parliamentary oversight.
3. Attribution and lawful response. Create a formal attribution process led by MKN, with a legal basis for proportionate responses, from diplomatic action and lawful countermeasures to the inherent right of self-defence, consistent with international law.
4. A legislated chain of command. Define the roles of NACSA, MKN, the Ministry of Defence and the Malaysian Armed Forces, including the point at which a cyber attack becomes a defence matter and the Armed Forces' cyber units take the lead.
5. Humanitarian safeguards. Commit Malaysia in law to distinction, proportionality and precaution in cyber operations, and to the protection of hospitals, water, power and other civilian infrastructure.
6. Whole-of-society resilience. Widen the Act's reach to data centres, cloud and supply-chain vendors, and create a national cyber preparedness plan and a volunteer cyber reserve that draws on our universities and industry. The Prime Minister himself pointed to the EU's whole-of-society Preparedness Union Strategy.

The framework should be reviewed alongside the Computer Crimes Act 1997, the Communications and Multimedia Act 1998, the Personal Data Protection Act 2010 and the Armed Forces Act 1972, so that our laws speak with one voice. Clear law protects both security and liberty. Emergency powers improvised in a crisis protect neither.

From a national framework to an international one

A national cyber warfare framework can harden our defences and clarify our response. It cannot stop a foreign state from attacking. That is where international law falls short. There is still no binding treaty that clearly prohibits state cyber attacks on civilian infrastructure, or defines where espionage ends and armed attack begins in cyberspace. Voluntary norms agreed at the United Nations are a start, but they bind no one.

This vacuum invites what I call cyber colonisation: the use of digital dominance to coerce, extract from and subordinate less powerful nations. Countries of the Global South, building data centres and digital economies as Malaysia is, are the most exposed.

Malaysia is well placed to lead here. Our foreign policy is independent, our voice on justice for Gaza is heard across the Global South, and our standing in ASEAN is strong. We should champion an ASEAN position on cyber peace and push, at the UN, for a binding international treaty that protects civilian infrastructure and outlaws cyber colonisation. A nation that speaks for justice offline should also speak for it online.

Legislate before the attack, not after

Estonia built its cyber defence after it was attacked. Singapore built its framework before the worst could happen. Malaysia now has a choice between those two paths, and the Prime Minister's warning today tells us there is little time to choose.

The Cyber Security Act 2024 gave us the foundation of resilience. A Cyber Warfare Legal Framework would complete it: one that defines the threat, governs our response, protects civilians, and stands for peace in a domain where the strong are tempted to rule unchecked.

We must not wait for the next attack to write the law that should have answered it.

* Yusmadi Yusoff is a PhD in Law candidate at the Ahmad Ibrahim Kulliyyah of Laws, IIUM, researching the advancement of Malaysia's cyber warfare legal framework in comparison with Estonia and Singapore. He is a senior lawyer, a former Senator and a former Member of Parliament.

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

NOVEMBER 3 — When I was growing up, I never knew that people actually bought kuih.

Lepat pisang, kuih talam, seri muka, nagasari, epok-epok (karipap to the rest of you), and even the humble pisang goreng were things that appeared on our dining table, usually for breakfast or afternoon tea.

I knew they came from the kitchen, and more specifically, from Mak, but it never occurred to me that other families might have to visit a stall or a shop to enjoy them.

As far as I was concerned, these were simply things that mothers knew how to make.

It was only when I grew older that I began to appreciate how much knowledge went into preparing something as ordinary as a piece of kuih.

I remember asking Mak for her buah melaka recipe while I was studying in Australia.

The author never knew that others had to buy epok-epok (karipap) to enjoy them. — Picture via Unsplash/Kent Ng

By then, I was living far enough from home to discover that many things I had taken for granted required considerably more effort when there was nobody around to prepare them.

Looking back, I wonder how Mak would have described her occupation if someone had asked her to fill in a form.

Most likely, she would have written housewife, which was how many women of her generation described themselves.

It was a perfectly respectable answer, although I have come to realise that it told only a small part of her story.

Mak raised seven children. She also looked after young children from neighbouring families, sewed baju kurung, and sold kain and Tupperware.

But one activity occupied a particularly substantial part of her working life. For many years, beginning around the time I was in secondary school and continuing until my younger siblings had completed their schooling, Mak sold food by the roadside.

She had a small lorry, roughly the size of what we might call a food truck today, although considerably less fashionable, I imagine.

From there, she sold kuih prepared by other housewives, alongside small packets of nasi lemak, mee goreng and bihun goreng that she made herself.

The business occupied her mornings, and I remember it as a familiar part of our family life for many years.

Only now do I appreciate the different kinds of work involved. Preparing food for sale was one thing, but obtaining kuih from other women, managing what was available and selling everything to customers required a different set of abilities.

It was a small business, certainly, but no less a business for being conducted from a lorry beside the road.

There was also something rather lovely about the fact that other housewives were earning money through the food she sold.

As children, however, we rarely thought about these activities as work. They were things Mak did, just as Abah went to school to teach and we went to school to learn.

The distinction between paid employment, small businesses and household responsibilities meant very little to us.

We experienced the results of her efforts without necessarily recognising the effort itself.

There is another memory that has stayed with me. Our house did not have a water heater, but Mak would boil a kettle of water for us to bathe.

There were three boys in the family before our younger siblings came along, and that one kettle was shared between us.

It was never enough to turn an entire bath into a luxurious experience, but mixed with the water we already had, it made the morning a little more comfortable.

I did not think of that kettle as anything particularly significant. It was simply how we bathed.

Only now, having raised children of my own, do I understand how much of parenting consists of remembering small things that children themselves barely notice.

Someone has to think about what the family will eat, whether there are clean clothes available and what needs preparing before the day begins. Much of this work is invisible precisely because it is done so regularly.

I suspect many parents today would recognise something of Mak’s life in their own. Some manage full-time jobs alongside family responsibilities, while others run small businesses or spend their days caring for children and older relatives.

Their circumstances may be different, but the work often overlaps in ways that official descriptions struggle to capture.

I do not mean to suggest that Mak was remarkable simply because she worked hard, or that a good mother must always be busy doing something for everyone else.

Indeed, one of the things I appreciate more now is that Mak possessed abilities beyond those required of her as a mother.

She knew how to prepare food, sew, sell things and look after children, and those skills were part of who she was.

Since Mak passed away in September, I have found myself remembering these ordinary details more often.

I think about the kettle of warm water shared between three boys, the kuih that appeared on our table, and the small lorry from which she sold food for so many years.

They are not particularly dramatic memories, but perhaps that is why they have remained with me.

For much of my childhood, I thought Mak’s occupation was simply to look after us. It has taken me a good part of my adult life to appreciate that looking after us was already an enormous undertaking, and that she was doing many other things besides.

These days, whenever I see karipap or kuih talam being sold, I remember a childhood when I never had to think about buying them, because Mak knew how to make them herself.

I also remember the women whose kuih she helped sell, and the many mornings she spent running her own little business by the roadside.

Perhaps “housewife” was never an inaccurate description of Mak. It was simply never a complete one.

* Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, the Director of UM Press, and the Principal of Tuanku Bahiyah Residential College (KK2), Universiti Malaya. He may be reached at nahrizuladib@um.edu.my 

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

NOVEMBER 3 — Walk into many restaurants in Malaysia today and a robot may bring your food. Restaurants such as Q-Bistro, Johnny’s, Mamak Xpress and OldTown White Coffee have introduced robot waiters to cope with labour shortages, especially after the pandemic disrupted migrant labour flows and to keep costs down.

So, do these machines replace people or do they simply change the kind of work businesses need? Our short answer is that they change it.

For business leaders, the question is no longer whether robots will enter the workforce, but how, where and at what cost.

The trend is global. At the World Robot Conference in Beijing in August 2026, companies showed humanoid robots built for customer service, home help and even companionship, some with multilingual conversation and soft synthetic faces.

These machines raise a bigger question: how will people trust and react to robots that look and act more like us?

The rise of the robot workforce

Service robots now deliver food, guide customers and even sing birthday songs.

Rent-a-robot schemes have sped up the shift. In 2022, media reports put the cost of buying a single unit at around RM35,000 or more and renting one at roughly RM1,500 to RM2,000 a month.

Prices have likely shifted since, but renting still lets small businesses experiment without heavy upfront costs.

Yet robots are not autonomous replacements. Ivan Teo, chairman of the Malaysian Association of Hotels’ Johor chapter, has reportedly noted that robots in hotels and restaurants remain limited to specific tasks such as delivery.

Humans are still needed for personalised service, crisis handling and relationship-building.

What robots do well and where they fall short

Robots excel at consistency, hygiene and speed on simple tasks. They don’t take breaks, call in sick or make emotional judgments.

That is why busy restaurants, hotels and hospitals use them. Customers often report faster service and enjoy the novelty, which can bring in more traffic in the short term.

But novelty fades. Our study of 308 restaurant customers, published in Electronic Markets (Ghazali, Mutum & Cheah, 2025), found that novelty and enjoyment can raise satisfaction at first, but they do not guarantee repeat visits.

The excitement levels off over time, especially among customers who love new things, unless efficiency and trust support the experience.

Robots also lack the subtle cues that build loyalty. Tray bots and food runners can imitate friendliness with polite voice prompts or screen-based smiles. That is no substitute for the warmth and empathy of attentive staff.

Rapport matters too. We found that the bond between customer and robot changes how much a robot’s friendliness and trustworthiness count.

When rapport is high, friendly cues improve satisfaction. Paradoxically, our findings suggest that some customers may find an overly friendly robot off-putting. If it tries too hard to act human, it can come across as fake.

A robot can deliver your food efficiently, but it can’t ask whether your child liked the meal or whether you want more sambal. That kind of engagement builds loyalty and right now only humans can provide it.

Robots also have practical limits:

• Unexpected situations. A spilled drink, a complaint or a menu change still needs a human.
• Peak hours. Robots follow fixed paths and can block staff or customers in tight spaces.
• Cost. Upfront cost is still a worry for businesses that don’t want a long-term commitment.
• Connection. They can’t listen empathetically or respond to tone of voice.

Match the robot to the task

The challenge for managers is strategic fit. Where automation supports your value proposition of speed, standardisation or cost-efficiency, robots make sense. For example:

• Quick-service restaurants can use robot food runners to reduce staff fatigue.
• Hotels can use robots for luggage delivery or corridor sanitation.
• Hospitals can use them for medication delivery or patient guidance.

Tasks that need empathy, negotiation or discretion should stay with people. This is not about preference. It is about putting the right task with the right talent.

What this means for managers

1. Treat robots as support staff, not replacements. Use them for repetitive, tiring or unappealing jobs. Let your people focus on work that needs personality, flexibility and emotional intelligence.
2. Match robot features to your business. Fast-food outlets and busy casual restaurants may gain the most. Fine dining, boutique hotels and businesses built on deep customer relationships should be cautious.
3. Don’t rely on the “wow factor”. Customers will be impressed the first time. Keep them coming back with consistently good service, whether it comes from humans or machines.
4. Train staff to work alongside robots. Humans are still needed to handle surprises, talk to customers and keep the experience smooth. Staff roles may shift, but they won’t disappear.
5. Track customer feedback. High-tech doesn’t always mean it works for your customers. Check whether satisfaction and return visits improve after robots arrive.

Rethinking roles

We should be honest: some repetitive tasks and some jobs built around them, will shrink. But many restaurants and hotels already struggle to hire enough staff and robots help fill gaps that are hard to fill with short-term labour.

That doesn’t mean businesses should let people go. Instead, staff can be trained for roles robots can’t do, such as handling customers, overseeing robot performance, troubleshooting and higher-value work.

Customers may accept being served by a robot, but they still expect great service overall. A good robot makes things efficient. A good human makes the experience memorable.

Concluding thoughts

Robots are here to stay, but they are not here to replace all human labour.

The task for managers is to design systems where technology adds to the human value chain instead of displacing it.

Get the balance right and robots will complement workers rather than threaten them.

* Professor Dr Dilip S. Mutum is a Professor of Marketing at the School of Business, Monash University Malaysia (email: dilip.mutum@monash.edu), and Associate Professor Dr Ezlika Mohd Ghazali is an Associate Professor of Marketing at the Faculty of Business and Economics, Universiti Malaya (email: ezlika@um.edu.my).

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

NOVEMBER 2 — The decision of the Malaysian Indian People’s Party (MIPP) to boycott the Melaka state election on November 14, 2026, should not be dismissed as a minor disagreement over seat allocations.

Neither should the dissatisfaction of the Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA), which has been reduced to just two seats under Barisan Nasional (BN).

Taken together, these developments reveal something more fundamental about Malaysian politics: the increasing marginalisation of non-Malay component parties within coalitions that continue to proclaim their multiracial credentials.

This is a sobering development. For decades, Malaysia’s political stability rested partly on the ability of different ethnic communities to participate meaningfully in governing coalitions.

That formula was never perfect. But it offered a framework through which Malays, Chinese, Indians and other communities could negotiate their interests. 

This does not in any way imply that Pakatan Harapan is necessarily better. Not unlike any coalition, Pakatan Harapan has its problems too. 

Political party flags are seen lining the streets around Durian Tunggal ahead of the 16th Melaka state election November 2, 2026. — Bernama pic

But with PN facing a hail of issues, it is difficult for PN, which has been deregistered pending an appeal, cannot ride on the moral high ground of being a multi racial coalition either.

The Melaka election is now exposing the weaknesses of that framework.

First, MIPP’s boycott represents a rejection of political tokenism.

Its president, P Punithan, has made clear that the party would not sacrifice its dignity merely to secure seats that offered little meaningful political influence.

MIPP subsequently stayed away from Perikatan Nasional’s (PN) candidate announcement.

Such a decision is particularly significant because MIPP has yet to establish a strong electoral record.

In July’s Johor state election, it contested five seats, lost all five and forfeited every deposit.

Its bargaining position is therefore weak.

Yet its refusal to participate in Melaka suggests that even a relatively small party can recognise when its presence is being used primarily to provide the appearance of multiracial legitimacy. PN should take this warning seriously.

Second, MCA’s dissatisfaction reveals a similar problem within BN.

MCA had contested seven seats in the 2021 Melaka state election, winning Machap Jaya and Kelebang.

This time, it has been allocated only those two seats.

Its president, Datuk Seri Wee Ka Siong, initially walked out of BN’s candidate announcement in protest against the redistribution of seats without adequate consultation.

Although MCA subsequently agreed to contest the two constituencies following discussions with BN chairman Datuk Seri Ahmad Zahid Hamidi, the underlying dissatisfaction cannot be erased by a negotiated settlement.

Indeed, MCA has reasons to be particularly unhappy.

In the Johor election in July, MCA captured eight seats, outperforming DAP, which won six.

In Negeri Sembilan, MCA secured another two seats, ending a prolonged absence from the state legislative assembly.

These results suggested that MCA was beginning to recover some of its electoral standing.

Yet in Melaka, its allocation has contracted rather than expanded.

The contradiction is difficult to ignore.

Third, the emerging cooperation between Umno and PAS has further complicated the position of non-Malay parties.

BN intends to contest 21 of Melaka’s 28 constituencies, leaving seven for PAS and its allies.

This arrangement may appear electorally convenient.

Umno can concentrate on constituencies it considers winnable, while PAS and its partners absorb the risks elsewhere.

But the formula also raises an uncomfortable question about the direction of BN.

If cooperation with PAS requires MCA to surrender constituencies it previously contested, the price of Malay political consolidation is being borne partly by a Chinese component party.

MCA cannot be expected to celebrate such an arrangement unconditionally.

Nor should MIPP be expected to provide PN with multiracial legitimacy without meaningful participation.

Fourth, PN’s difficulties extend far beyond MIPP.

The coalition is already confronting an uncertain legal future following its deregistration by the Registrar of Societies.

Although the High Court granted a stay on October 22, allowing PN to continue operating while pursuing judicial review, the underlying dispute remains unresolved.

Its relationship with Bersatu has deteriorated considerably.

PAS has simultaneously developed closer cooperation with Umno, while Wawasan has sought to position itself as a bridge between the competing political formations.

Yet a coalition cannot become coherent merely because its leaders appear together beneath the same flags.

The interests of PAS, Wawasan, Gerakan, MIPP and Bersatu are not necessarily identical.

Indeed, they are increasingly divergent.

MIPP’s boycott is another indication that the political centre of gravity within PN has shifted decisively towards PAS.

Fifth, the weakness of Gerakan compounds this predicament.

Gerakan was once an important multiracial party with substantial influence in Penang.

Today, its electoral strength is considerably diminished.

Its continued participation in PN does not automatically demonstrate that PN enjoys meaningful Chinese support.

Likewise, the presence of MIPP cannot be treated as proof that Indian voters identify with PN.

Multiracialism cannot be measured by the number of party logos appearing on a campaign poster.

It must be demonstrated through actual representation, political influence and the willingness of coalition leaders to accommodate differences.

Sixth, MCA faces a difficult strategic dilemma of its own.

Leaving BN would deprive it of an established coalition machinery.

Remaining within BN, however, risks reinforcing the perception that MCA must accept whatever allocation Umno considers appropriate.

Its recent electoral successes in Johor and Negeri Sembilan suggest that it still possesses organisational capabilities.

But electoral recovery without corresponding bargaining power can become politically frustrating.

MCA must therefore decide whether its long-term revival depends on accepting diminished representation or negotiating a more substantial role within BN.

Seventh, these developments could benefit Pakatan Harapan (PH), but not automatically.

The dissatisfaction of MIPP and MCA does not necessarily translate into additional votes for PH.

Indian and Chinese voters are not politically homogeneous.

Many may abstain, support independent candidates or consider other alternatives.

Nevertheless, PH has an opportunity to demonstrate that multiracial cooperation can be based on more than electoral convenience.

DAP, PKR and Amanah must show that coalition politics can accommodate genuine differences without reducing smaller partners to decorative participants.

Eighth, the Melaka election is becoming a test of political credibility rather than merely coalition arithmetic.

BN may still emerge victorious. Its organisational advantages and historical strength in Melaka remain substantial.

But winning an election and sustaining a credible multiracial coalition are two different achievements.

Similarly, PN may retain pockets of strong Malay-Muslim support without successfully broadening its appeal among Chinese and Indian voters.

An electoral victory cannot conceal every structural weakness.

Ninth, the marginalisation of smaller parties risk creating longer-term political resentment.

Coalitions depend on trust.

When component parties believe that decisions are imposed upon them rather than negotiated collectively, their willingness to mobilise supporters may decline.

Party workers who feel disrespected cannot always be expected to campaign enthusiastically for candidates selected through arrangements they oppose.

This is especially important in marginal constituencies where even modest differences in turnout can determine the outcome.

Finally, Malaysia must distinguish between Malay political cooperation and genuinely national political integration.

There is nothing inherently illegitimate about Umno and PAS seeking common electoral ground.

Nor is there anything improper about political parties negotiating arrangements to maximise their prospects.

But when such arrangements systematically diminish the participation of non-Malay partners, they raise questions about the future direction of Malaysian democracy.

MIPP’s boycott and MCA’s dissatisfaction are therefore not isolated episodes.

They are symptoms of a deeper structural imbalance.

The former has chosen to withdraw rather than accept an arrangement it considers unacceptable.

The latter has agreed to remain, despite securing only two seats. Different responses, certainly.

But both reflect the declining bargaining power of smaller parties in coalitions increasingly dominated by larger Malay-based organisations.

Malaysia cannot afford to treat multiracial politics as an expendable electoral accessory.

The country’s social cohesion requires more than temporary political bargains.

It requires representation, mutual respect and the conviction that every community has a meaningful stake in national governance.

As Melaka approaches polling day, the central lesson is unmistakable.

A coalition may win enough seats to govern while simultaneously losing the confidence of the very communities it claims to represent.

That would be a victory in sheer numbers, but a defeat for Malaysia’s multiracial political future. 

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD is the Professor of Asean Studies at International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

NOVEMBER 2 — A university does not have to close its doors to diminish as a place of learning. Its intellectual purpose begins to weaken when everything can be questioned except the system by which it is governed.

Lectures continue. Papers appear. Professors are appointed. Graduation ceremonies retain their splendour. Yet the conditions that make scholarship meaningful can deteriorate beneath this institutional continuity.

Peter Fleming’s Dark Academia: How Universities Die (Pluto Press, 2021) criticises commercialisation, managerial control and the excessive power of performance metrics in universities. His argument invites an uncomfortable question: can an institution keep expanding while eroding the conditions that sustain its intellectual life?

I believe his critique offers a useful lens for examining Malaysian universities. Its wider relevance lies in the relationship between measurement, incentives and academic judgment.

Publication counts tell us how many works have been produced. Citations provide evidence of references to those works. Grant income records financial resources obtained. Each measure has a purpose and a limit.

The difficulty begins when a limited indicator acquires the authority to determine a scholar’s entire worth. Publication volume becomes a verdict on intellectual depth. Grant income becomes a verdict on the importance of a research question. Institutional rank becomes a verdict on the quality of academic life.

These are substantial leaps of judgment.

Picture for illustration purposes. When a university delegates academic judgment to numerical indicators, it diminishes its own intellectual responsibility. — Mike van Schoonderwalt/Pexels pic

A scholar can publish extensively without significantly extending knowledge. A well-funded project can coexist with neglected questions of great public importance. Assessing excellence requires attention to substance, method, originality and contribution. Counting cannot discharge that responsibility for us.

When a university delegates academic judgment to numerical indicators, it diminishes its own intellectual responsibility.

The incentives then shape the work. If promotion, recognition and resources depend too heavily on outputs that can be counted quickly, academics have reasons to favour activities that meet those demands.

Research questions may be selected for their likelihood of publication. Investigations may be fitted to appraisal cycles. Community engagement may need to be translated into uploadable evidence before its value becomes institutionally visible.

Under such conditions, exhortations to be original become contradictory. Originality requires time to attempt something uncertain, encounter difficulty and reconsider an assumption. A system that penalises delay without examining its causes risks discouraging the work most capable of producing a breakthrough.

Does our system reward intellectual exploration, or proficiency in identifying the safest route to a target?

Malaysia’s Higher Education Plan 2026 to 2035 provides a particularly significant reference point. It identifies excessive emphasis on quantity-based rather than outcome-based performance indicators as a factor undermining high-impact research and innovation initiatives. The concern is therefore recognised within the country’s own policy framework. Institutional practices now need to be examined against that diagnosis.

Reporting also has a cost. Every form, evidence request and performance return consumes somebody’s time. Academic time is finite. Time spent documenting an achievement reduces the time available to produce the next one.

Each additional reporting requirement should therefore justify its benefits against its demands. How many hours does it require? Does it duplicate information already held? Who uses the information? Which decisions improve because of it?

If these questions cannot be answered convincingly, the requirement deserves scrutiny. Universities that demand evidence from their academics should apply comparable scrutiny to the effectiveness of their own evidence demands.

Another difficulty concerns the diversity of scholarship. A teacher who develops a student’s intellectual maturity contributes differently from a scientist who makes a laboratory discovery. Historical scholarship, legal analysis and philosophical inquiry may demonstrate their significance over a much longer period.

Forcing these contributions into a narrow definition of success risks penalising forms of scholarship that a university should preserve.

Questions of local public importance may also lose ground if their principal value is assessed through their marketability within international publishing. Who should determine our intellectual priorities: public needs, scholarly judgment or the market for academic recognition?

Academic freedom poses an equally searching test. As a law educator, I teach students to examine the exercise of power, challenge reasons and test the validity of decisions. University governance should exemplify those habits.

An academic who offers evidence-based criticism is exercising an intellectual responsibility. Mature leadership should be willing to defend its decisions through reasons open to examination. If questioning becomes difficult as soon as administrative interests are involved, what lesson does the institution teach its students?

Compliance may facilitate administration. Academic authority also requires the willingness to hear an argument that disturbs institutional comfort.

A critique of measurement thus calls for deeper accountability. Academics must answer for the quality of their work. University leaders must answer for the systems that determine how that work is undertaken and valued.

Practical reform should start there. Institutions should examine the time consumed by reporting, recognise different forms of scholarly contribution and require substantive peer judgment alongside indicators. Leaders should protect evidence-based disagreement and assess research through its quality and public contribution as well as its visibility.

Malaysia needs universities capable of advancing knowledge, educating judgment and scrutinising power through reasoned argument. Those responsibilities require freedom, time, trust and institutional wisdom.

Fleming’s warning matters because intellectual decline can coexist with increasingly impressive performance reports.

What does international recognition ultimately mean if the scholars within a university are losing the freedom to judge what is truly worth doing? 

* By Associate Professor Dr Shahrul Mizan Ismail, Faculty of Law, Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, email: shahrulmizan@ukm.edu.my

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

NOVEMBER 2 — Perikatan Nasional’s (PN) refusal to accept the Confidence and Supply Agreement (CSA) with Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim’s government is not merely about constituency allocations.

It raises a more fundamental question: whether PN’s leadership fears that accepting the CSA would weaken the determination of its Members of Parliament to remain firmly opposed to Anwar and Pakatan Harapan.

This is a political interpretation rather than an established admission by PN’s leaders. Nevertheless, the circumstances surrounding the coalition make it worthy of serious consideration.

Especially when PN itself faces the possibility of deregistration.

On September 22, the Registrar of Societies (RoS) issued PN a show-cause notice over alleged violations of its constitution.

The controversy stemmed from Bersatu’s complaint that it had been excluded from a PN Supreme Council meeting on July 16.

The RoS subsequently suspended PN’s activities before cancelling its registration on October 20.

PN challenged the decision.

On October 22, the High Court granted a stay of the suspension and deregistration pending judicial review.

However, a stay is not an acquittal.

Neither does it mean PN has been permanently restored to unquestioned legal standing.

It merely suspends the consequences of the regulator’s decision while the courts examine the dispute.

The substantive hearing is scheduled for December 7.

PN’s leaders are therefore aware that their coalition’s continued legal existence remains uncertain.

This uncertainty provides the essential background to their opposition to the CSA.

On October 29, six Bersatu MPs led by Tan Sri Muhyiddin Yassin entered into a CSA with the federal government, together with Muar MP Syed Saddiq Syed Abdul Rahman.

The arrangement provides constituency development allocations in exchange for support for Budget 2027.

It also incorporates institutional reform commitments, including limiting the prime minister’s tenure to two terms and separating the Attorney-General’s responsibilities from those of the Public Prosecutor.

Yet PN secretary-general Datuk Seri Takiyuddin Hassan subsequently insisted that the coalition had not participated in the negotiations.

Perikatan Nasional chairman Datuk Seri Ahmad Samsuri Mokhtar (right) and coalition leaders attend the announcement of PN’s Negeri Sembilan state election candidates in Seremban July 16, 2026. — Picture via Facebook/ustaztitm

He maintained that PN would not enter such an agreement merely to secure allocations.

This distinction is significant.

Bersatu’s parliamentary approach is increasingly different from that of PN’s leadership, particularly PAS.

Muhyiddin appears prepared to pursue limited parliamentary cooperation without formally joining the government.

PAS, meanwhile, continues to emphasise its opposition identity.

There are legitimate arguments for both positions.

An opposition party must preserve its independence to scrutinise the government.

But accepting a CSA does not automatically mean surrendering that independence.

It depends on the terms negotiated.

Indeed, the CSA could allow MPs to obtain constituency allocations while retaining the right to challenge government policies beyond their agreed parliamentary commitments.

The concern for PN’s leadership may therefore be political rather than merely procedural.

Once MPs begin cooperating with Anwar’s administration, even selectively, the distinction between government and opposition becomes less absolute.

Their constituents may also begin to see parliamentary cooperation as a practical alternative to uninterrupted confrontation.

This could complicate efforts to maintain a uniformly adversarial opposition strategy.

The contrast with Barisan Nasional is revealing.

Deputy Prime Minister Datuk Seri Ahmad Zahid Hamidi has indicated that BN MPs can accept constituency allocations under the government’s CSA framework.

Admittedly, BN is already part of the federal government.

Nevertheless, the broader principle remains important.

Constituency allocations are public resources intended to benefit citizens regardless of their political preferences.

They should not become instruments through which parliamentary confrontation is perpetuated at the expense of local development.

More importantly, PN’s unresolved registration dispute creates additional pressure on its internal cohesion.

Should the courts ultimately uphold deregistration, PN’s component parties would have to reconsider their political arrangements.

PAS could pursue closer cooperation with Umno.

Bersatu could continue exploring parliamentary arrangements with Anwar’s government.

Other component parties would confront their own organisational choices.

None of these outcomes is inevitable.

The courts could rule in PN’s favour.

But the underlying political differences between PAS and Bersatu would remain.

This is why the CSA controversy matters beyond Budget 2027.

It reveals competing approaches towards the government within a coalition whose legal status is already being contested.

PN’s refusal may help preserve a common opposition posture among MPs who reject cooperation.

Yet it cannot compel every component party to adopt the same strategy indefinitely.

Malaysia has previously experienced cross-party parliamentary cooperation.

The 2021 memorandum of understanding between the federal government and Pakatan Harapan demonstrated that political opponents could negotiate institutional reforms while remaining electoral competitors.

Such cooperation need not eliminate democratic scrutiny.

Nor does refusing cooperation necessarily strengthen it.

The real test is whether parliamentary decisions serve the public interest while respecting the independence of elected representatives.

PN’s leadership may regard resistance to the CSA as necessary to preserve its MPs’ resolve against Anwar.

But maintaining opposition discipline and maintaining a viable coalition are two different challenges.

One concerns parliamentary strategy.

The other concerns legal legitimacy, organisational cohesion and agreement among component parties.

PN faces both simultaneously.

With its judicial review approaching and Bersatu already pursuing a different parliamentary course, the coalition must confront a difficult reality.

Opposition to Anwar may provide a common political position. It cannot, on its own, settle PN’s legal predicament or reconcile the competing strategies of its constituent parties.

The CSA has exposed that distinction.

Whatever the eventual judicial outcome, PN’s future will depend on whether its leaders can agree on more than their opposition to the prime minister.

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD, is Professor of Asean Studies at the International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of the Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

NOVEMBER 2 — Sarawak reportedly would push for greater control of its strategic resources, including the oil and gas industry.

Citing the takeover of Bintulu port, Premier Abang Johari Openg said there were many more assets that Sarawak intended to take over.

Such moves, however, would require the backing of the Sarawakians.

“The more Sarawakians stand behind us and our leadership, the more determined we will be to continue fighting for Sarawak,” Abang Johari was quoted as saying.

Ports are a state matter. They are listed as Item 3 under List IIA (Supplement to State List for States of Sabah and Sarawak) pursuant to Article 95B(1)(a) of the Federal Constitution. Item 3 reads as follows:

“Ports and harbours, other than those declared to be federal by or under federal law; regulation of traffic by water in ports and harbours or on rivers wholly within the State, except traffic in federal ports or harbours; foreshores.”

A general view of the Palace of Justice in Putrajaya on July 9, 2025. — Picture by Raymond Manuel

Accordingly, Sarawak has every right to push for greater control of its strategic resources like the takeover of Bintulu port.

But oil and gas?

In the case of Home Affairs, Malaysia & Ors v Datuk James Wong Kim Min [1976] the Federal Court unanimously held that internal security, which is clearly enumerated as Item 3 in the Federal List in the Ninth Schedule to the Federal Constitution, is a federal subject. This means that both legislative and executive authority over internal security is vested in the Federation and the Sarawak legislature, in particular, no longer has power to make law on it.

Now, the Federal List includes Item 8(j) – that is, “subject to Item 2(c) in the State List: Development of mineral resources; mines mining mineral and mineral ores; oils and oilfields; purchase, sale, import and export of minerals and mineral ores; petroleum products; and regulation of labour and safety of mines and oilfields”.

Item 8(j) does look more elaborate than Item 2(c) in the State List, which lists “permits and licences for prospecting for mines; mining leases and certificates” as state matters.

The Federal Constitution, by the Legislative Lists (Federal, State and Concurrent), demarcates federal and state powers.

So, which has the rights over oil and gas?

The Federal Court has been called to rule on the matter.

So, let the Federal Court decide whether the rights are with federal or state governments.

Malaysia is not unique to conflicts between federal and state governments.

I have shared the Australian experience.

Australia is a federation, like Malaysia.

So is Canada, where a number of cases have come before the country’s apex court, the Supreme Court, for determination whether a matter was within federal or state powers.

For example, in 2019, the Canadian Federal Parliament passed an unprecedented legislation – that is, the Act Respecting First Nations, Inuit and Métis Children, Youth and Families.

It is unprecedented because for the first time, the federal government has exercised its jurisdiction to legislate in the area of Indigenous child welfare.

The passing of the Act is said to be in keeping with Canada’s commitments relating to the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), which has been incorporated into the country’s domestic law, and in response to the calls to action made by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada.

The Act establishes national standards and provides Indigenous peoples with effective control over their children’s welfare. In Sections 9 to 17, it sets out national standards and principles, which establish a normative framework for the provision of culturally appropriate child and family services that applies across the country.

In Section 8(a) and 18(1), the Act affirms that the inherent right of self‑government recognised and affirmed by Section 35 of the Canadian Constitution includes legislative authority in relation to Indigenous child and family services.

The Act also establishes a framework within which Indigenous groups, communities or peoples may exercise the jurisdiction affirmed in both provisions. It also specifies how its provisions and the jurisdiction it affirms will interact with other laws.

Section 21 of the Act incorporates by reference the laws made by Indigenous groups, communities or peoples and gives them the force of law as federal law.

Section 22(3), in turn, provides for greater certainty that the laws of Indigenous groups, communities or peoples prevail over provincial laws to the extent of any conflict or inconsistency.

Despite the nobleness of the Act, the Attorney General of Quebec (the largest province in Canada by area), referred the question of its constitutional validity to the Quebec Court of Appeal, asking whether the Act is ultra vires Parliament’s jurisdiction under the Canadian Constitution.

The Court of Appeal held that the Act is constitutionally valid except for Sections 21 and 22(3), being provisions that give the laws of Indigenous groups, communities or peoples priority over provincial laws.

In the Court’s view, these provisions exceed federal Parliament’s jurisdiction.

The Attorney General of Quebec appealed against the Court of Appeal’s decision. The Attorney General of Canada, in turn, cross-appealed against the decision that Sections 21 and 23(3) are unconstitutional.

After hearing the parties, the Supreme Court dismissed the appeal of the Attorney General of Quebec and allowed the appeal of the Attorney General of Canada.

The Supreme Court ruled that the Act as a whole is constitutionally valid as the essential matter addressed by the Act involves protecting the well‑being of Indigenous children, youth and families by promoting the delivery of culturally appropriate child and family services and advancing the process of reconciliation with Indigenous peoples.

The Act therefore falls squarely within federal jurisdiction under Section 91(24) of the Canadian Constitution – that is, matters over “Indians, and Lands reserved for the Indians”. The measures in the Act are all measures that are within Parliament’s powers under the provision.

The Supreme Court, as such, affirmed the federal Parliament’s “independent legislative authority” to enact such a law pursuant to its jurisdiction over Indians and lands reserved for the Indians under Section 91(24) of the Canadian Constitution. (See the case of Reference re An Act respecting First Nations, Inuit and Métis children, youth and families [2024] SCC 5)

The decision also affirmed the doctrine of federal paramountcy, under which the provisions of a valid federal law prevail over conflicting or inconsistent provisions of a provincial law.

In Malaysia, the doctrine is encapsulated in Article 75 of the Federal Constitution that says if any State law is inconsistent with a federal law, the federal law shall prevail and the State law shall, to the extent of the inconsistency, be void.

So, on oil and gas, let the Federal Court decide whether the rights are with federal or state governments, and whose rights prevail.

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

NOVEMBER 2 — Every time a climate report drops, the same ritual unfolds. Scientists issue grave warnings. Politicians trade soundbites. Corporations rebrand their logos in shades of green.

And the rest of us? We scroll past, overwhelmed, convinced that sustainability is a conversation for someone else — someone with a degree in environmental science, a seat at a policy table, or a budget line for carbon offsets.

This is a dangerous mistake. Public conversations on sustainability are not a luxury, a niche interest, or a distraction from “real” economic concerns. They are the foundation on which any meaningful change is built. And everyone — not just experts, activists, or executives — must invest in them.

Here is the uncomfortable truth: we already have most of the technology and policy tools we need to drastically reduce emissions, protect biodiversity, and build more resilient communities.

What we lack is collective will. And collective will does not emerge from white papers. It emerges from conversation.

When people talk about sustainability in everyday spaces — at kitchen tables, in classrooms, on factory floors, in faith communities, on social media — it stops being an abstract “issue” and becomes a shared reality. That shift matters.

Research consistently shows that people’s willingness to adopt sustainable behaviours is strongly influenced by what they believe others around them are doing. In other words, conversation is not just talk. It is infrastructure for change.

If ordinary people opt out of sustainability conversations, they don’t leave a vacuum. They leave a stage. And that stage gets filled by those with the most money, the most platforms, and the most to gain from the status quo.

We have seen this play out repeatedly. Fossil fuel companies have spent decades funding messaging that frames climate action as economic suicide. Greenwashing campaigns convince consumers that minor tweaks — a reusable straw here, a recycled tote there — are sufficient. Meanwhile, the structural changes that actually matter, such as transforming energy systems, rethinking urban planning, and reining in overconsumption, get pushed to the margins.

Public conversation is the antidote. It is how communities push back against spin, demand accountability, and insist that sustainability be treated as a matter of justice, not just branding.

There is a persistent myth that sustainability is a concern for the wealthy, the young, or the urban. In reality, it is the poor, the elderly, the rural, and the marginalised who suffer first and worst from environmental degradation. Farmers facing unpredictable seasons. Coastal communities facing rising seas. Workers in industries that must transition. Families breathing polluted air in cities that were never designed with their health in mind.

For these communities, sustainability is not a thought experiment. It is survival. Yet too often, they are the least represented in the conversations that shape policy. That is not just unjust; it is impractical. Solutions designed without the input of those most affected tend to fail.

Some will argue that they are too busy, too tired, or too disillusioned to engage. That is understandable. The problems are enormous, and individual action can feel futile. But opting out has a cost. When public conversation withers, so does public pressure. And when public pressure withers, governments and corporations feel free to delay, dilute, and distract.

We have seen what happens when sustainability is left to closed-door negotiations: ambitious targets get watered down, timelines slip, and vulnerable nations are left to fend for themselves. We cannot afford another decade of that.

Investing in public conversation does not mean everyone must become a climate activist or a policy wonk. It means something simpler and more accessible: Bring sustainability into your everyday conversations. Normalise it. Listen. Especially to those whose experiences differ from your own. Ask questions. Of your leaders, your employers, your neighbours, and yourself. Create space. In your workplace, your school, your place of worship, your community group. Refuse to let it be siloed.

Sustainability is not a separate topic. It is about food, housing, health, jobs, and justice.

The sustainability challenge is often framed as a series of trade-offs: economy versus environment, growth versus restraint, present versus future. But these framings assume that the conversation is a monologue delivered by experts to a passive public. It is not. It is a messy, vital, ongoing conversation among people who share a planet and a future.

That conversation will not be perfect. It will be uncomfortable. It will require humility, patience, and a willingness to change our minds. But it is the only way we move from awareness to action, from individual gestures to systemic change. Sustainability is not a topic. It is our shared life, and the conversation about it belongs to all of us.

* Professor Datuk Dr Ahmad Ibrahim is affiliated with the Tan Sri Omar Centre for STI Policy Studies at UCSI University and is an Adjunct Professor at the Ungku Aziz Centre for Development Studies, Universiti Malaya. He can be reached at ahmadibrahim@ucsiuniversity.edu.my.   

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

NOVEMBER 2 — The four states that make up the SG4—Kelantan, Terengganu, Kedah, and Perlis—have long been described as Malaysia’s economic laggards. Collectively home to 5.7 million people and spanning over 38,000 square kilometres, they contribute a disproportionately small share of national GDP, well under ten per cent, despite holding roughly a fifth of the country’s population. This week, at the Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre, the coalition’s leadership gathered for the SG4 Business and Economic Forum 2026 under the theme “Four States. One Economic Vision,” intent on proving that this narrative can be inverted.

The headline message, delivered via a speech read on behalf of adviser Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad, was one of latent greatness: SG4 is a “sleeping giant” with the land, resources, and strategic geography to become a productive economic zone if its four component parts finally pool their strengths rather than compete. The forum’s substantive findings, however, reveal a grouping still grappling with the fundamental tension between its economic logic and its political genesis.

The most concrete finding from the forum was a clear consensus that SG4 must resist the temptation of raw commodity extraction, particularly regarding rare earth elements (REE). Dr Mahathir’s prepared remarks explicitly cautioned against merely “retrieving and selling” REE, arguing that the real returns lie in downstream processing and value-added activities that could multiply state revenues several-fold. This is a welcome departure from the resource-cursed model that has plagued resource-rich but economically underdeveloped regions globally.

The forum also articulated a cluster-based approach to regional integration. Rather than treating the four states as separate investment destinations, SG4 Group Sdn Bhd—the equal-share vehicle owned 25 per cent by each state—presented itself as a single gateway. The economic clusters span infrastructure and logistics, agriculture and food security, education and human capital, and new resources including REE. Each state’s distinct ambition was highlighted: Kedah’s manufacturing hub aspirations, Kelantan’s commercial agriculture push, Terengganu’s downstream petroleum exploration, and Perlis’s focus on cross-border trade with southern Thailand.

Dr Mahathir’s speech veered into cultural commentary, warning that “shortcuts, quick profits, corruption” and a departure from Islamic tenets of honesty had hindered Malay progress, and that SG4 states were particularly under scrutiny because their populations are majority Malay Muslim.

Former prime minister Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad's speech was delivered on his behalf at the SG4 Business and Economic Forum 2026 at the Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre. — Picture via Facebook/Dr. Mahathir bin Mohamad

More tellingly, the political cohesion of SG4 is already showing strain. Recent political shifts in Perlis have raised questions about whether the coalition is truly four states or “SG3+1,” with PAS stepping back from direct participation in the state’s administration. A regional economic bloc whose membership is contingent on electoral outcomes is a difficult sell to investors seeking regulatory certainty over a ten-year horizon.

The forum’s organisers emphasised that SG4 works alongside federal agencies like MIDA and the Northern Corridor Implementation Authority rather than against them. But the political reality is that a coalition of opposition-governed states seeking greater autonomy over resource revenues will inevitably be viewed in Putrajaya through a lens of suspicion. The federal government’s cooperation, however politely framed, will be calibrated accordingly.

The forum’s stated commitment to people-centred development—creating quality jobs, empowering local entrepreneurs, and ensuring that growth benefits the rakyat—is admirable on paper. The emphasis on consolidating smallholders under professional management for large-scale commercial farming is a genuinely sensible structural reform. The recognition that SG4’s greatest asset is its people, not its minerals, is economically sound.

But the gap between rhetoric and implementation remains vast. The forum produced no detailed human capital plan, no specific skills-training commitments aligned with the semiconductor and downstream mineral industries it hopes to attract, and no timeline for the regulatory streamlining that investors consistently cite as the primary obstacle to doing business in these states. The absence of Dr Mahathir, who has been the intellectual anchor of the project, due to ill health, underscored the initiative’s dependence on a 101-year-old figurehead rather than institutionalised governance.

The SG4 Business and Economic Forum 2026 succeeded in one respect: it demonstrated that the four states have a coherent economic narrative and a leadership willing to articulate it in the language of investors rather than solely that of political grievance. The emphasis on value-added REE processing, cluster-based industrial policy, and cross-border trade with Thailand is strategically sound.

What the forum did not demonstrate is that SG4 can transcend its political origins. Until the grouping can convince domestic and foreign investors that its economic institutions are insulated from electoral cycles, that its commitment to good governance extends beyond exhortation, and that its federal relations are cooperative rather than adversarial, the “sleeping giant” will remain just that—sleeping. The giant has stirred. Whether it rises depends on decisions that no forum, however well-intentioned, can make on its behalf.

* Professor Datuk Dr. Ahmad Ibrahim is affiliated with the Tan Sri Omar Centre for STI Policy Studies at UCSI University and is an Adjunct Professor at the Ungku Aziz Centre for Development Studies, Universiti Malaya. He can be reached at ahmadibrahim@ucsiuniversity.edu.my.   

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

NOVEMBER 1 — Sundar Pichai believes AI could one day do his job, running Google.

In a BBC interview on 18 November 2025, Pichai was asked whether an AI agent could eventually do his job. His answer was striking: “I think what a CEO does is maybe one of the easier things for AI to do one day.”

Not a warehouse job. Not a data-entry job. His job. CEO of Google.

When the man at the helm of one of the world's most powerful technology companies admits that AI could one day do his job, it is time for the rest of us to sit up and take notice.

Bill Gates had an equally stark warning. In an interview with The Observer, published in late October 2026, he described AI as an “evolutionary event”, a transformation in which humans may no longer be the most intelligent beings on the planet.

His prediction for the workplace is even more unsettling. AI could replace not just routine tasks but skills of invention, white-collar work and, with humanoid robots, eventually physical labour.

Gates believes businesses have a powerful incentive to replace people with machines. As he puts it: “Hire the robot, fire the human and don't look back.”

Elon Musk takes the prediction several steps further. In a July 2026 interview with The Economist, he suggested that AI could soon perform almost any digital job better than humans, with humanoid robots eventually extending automation into physical work. He believes employment could become optional, with people working by choice rather than necessity.

But his vision of a future of abundance raises a fundamental question: who will own the wealth generated by machines, and who will benefit from it?

That is the heart of the problem. AI could generate extraordinary wealth while leaving millions of workers struggling to find their place in the new economy.

These warnings are no longer confined to boardrooms or technology conferences. They have entered offices, homes and online chats. Beneath the talk of innovation and productivity lies a growing unease: Will there still be a place for me when AI takes over?

The payroll data are beginning to show where some of this pressure is emerging.

A Stanford Digital Economy Lab study, updated in August 2026, found that young workers aged 22 to 25 are falling behind in occupations most exposed to AI. The impact is showing up not in a wave of layoffs, but in the jobs that never materialised.

Not because they were fired. Because they were never hired.

Which raises a difficult question: if AI writes the first draft, prepares the first brief and produces the first analysis, where does the human learn to do the second? How will we train tomorrow's accountants, lawyers and managers if we remove today's training ground?

Pichai's answer is that people must adapt. But adaptation is easy to advocate when you are a CEO. It is a very different proposition when you have spent years mastering a profession, only to find that software can now perform your tasks in seconds.

The threat extends beyond job losses. AI may affect workers' pay and bargaining power even before their jobs disappear. The Economist, in an article titled Ignore AI and Ask for That Pay Rise, raises the concern that fear of technological replacement may itself suppress wages.

If you believe a chatbot is waiting for your seat, do you ask for a raise? Do you leave for something better? Or do you stay quiet, grateful simply to have a job?

So are we heading for mass unemployment? Not yet.

Stanford found no evidence of widespread, economy-wide job displacement associated with AI. And the widely quoted World Economic Forum forecast of 92 million jobs displaced and 170 million created by 2030 covers several forces reshaping employment, including technological change, demographic shifts and the green transition. It is not an AI-only forecast.

Exposure to AI does not automatically mean a job will disappear. Some roles will be transformed, while others may lose tasks or eventually disappear. The uncertainty is itself becoming a source of anxiety.

We've seen this before. When ATMs became widespread in the 1980s, many predicted the end of the bank teller. They were only partly right. ATMs reduced the number of tellers needed at individual branches, but they also lowered operating costs, allowing banks to open more branches.

But AI is not simply another step in automation.

The author argues that AI is changing the job market rapidly, threatening jobs and wages, and that governments, businesses and workers must adapt to its impact. — AFP pic

It is a technological force unlike anything humanity has encountered before. AI is rewriting the rules of work itself. It can write, reason, analyse, create and make decisions, abilities once considered uniquely human. It is sweeping across professions, industries and disciplines, challenging not just how we work but what we once believed only the human mind could do.

We are no longer talking about machines replacing human hands. We are talking about machines that increasingly appear to think and respond like intelligent beings, challenging the very boundaries between human intelligence and artificial capability.

Gates is not simply sounding an alarm. He is also proposing ways to manage the upheaval. He believes certain jobs should remain reserved for humans, particularly where human involvement is essential. He has also suggested that governments consider taxing AI use, including the tokens businesses purchase to run AI systems.

But policy alone will not be enough.

Businesses must look beyond the savings AI can deliver and consider the people whose livelihoods may be affected. Governments, in turn, must ensure that the gains from AI are shared more widely through retraining, social protection and policies that help workers adapt. Employers must also find ways to give young people the experience traditionally gained through entry-level jobs.

For young people entering the workforce, the message is not to fear AI but to understand it. Beyond being a work tool, AI is now a guide to learning, a sounding board for ideas and even a source of companionship.

Being AI-savvy will become as important as being digitally literate: learning to use these tools, question their outputs and understand their limitations. Technical knowledge alone will not be enough. Critical thinking, creativity, judgement and the ability to work alongside intelligent systems will matter. The future will belong to those who know how to work intelligently with AI, not ignore it.

AI is not waiting for us to catch up. Its capabilities are multiplying, its reach expanding and its pace accelerating. What seemed impossible yesterday is routine today.

This is the real disruption. AI is changing the world of work even as we debate what it might do. By the time governments regulate it, businesses adapt and education systems catch up, the technology may already have moved on.

That brings us back to Sundar Pichai. If AI could one day perform many of the responsibilities of a CEO, what would leadership itself look like in the future?

The question is no longer whether AI will change the world of work. It is whether we can keep pace with a technology that is changing faster than our ability to understand its consequences.

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

NOVEMBER 1 — Watching someone you love slowly lose their memory is an experience that stays with you. A familiar face may become difficult to recognise. Everyday activities that were once simple may become confusing. Conversations may need to be repeated, and family members gradually find themselves becoming full-time caregivers.

I know this because dementia has affected several members of my own family. I have witnessed the sadness, uncertainty and emotional exhaustion that accompany this condition. Behind every person living with dementia is often a family quietly struggling to cope.

For caregivers, the greatest challenge is not always physical. Sometimes, it is the heartbreak of watching someone they love gradually lose the ability to manage everyday life independently. These experiences have left me asking one important question: Can we do something before memory problems become severe?

Protecting the brain before problems begin

Dementia is not simply a normal part of ageing. It is a condition that affects memory, thinking and the ability to carry out daily activities. Although there is currently no cure for most forms of dementia, growing scientific interest has focused on ways to support brain health and reduce the risk of cognitive decline.

One promising area is physical exercise. Most people associate exercise with stronger muscles, healthier hearts and better weight management. However, physical activity may also help maintain memory, concentration and other thinking abilities as we grow older. Walking, cycling and simple strengthening exercises may offer benefits beyond physical fitness.

But an important question remains: Why do some people benefit more from exercise than others?

Attendees participate in a performance during the Lincoln Center Moments program for people living with dementia and their caregivers at Lincoln Center in New York on June 3, 2026. — AFP pic

One exercise programme may not suit everyone

As a researcher in exercise science and genetics, I have long been interested in understanding why individuals respond differently to the same physical activities. Two people may follow an identical exercise programme but experience different improvements.

Their age, health conditions, lifestyle and genetic makeup may all influence how their bodies respond. Could these differences also affect how exercise benefits the brain?

This question has become an important focus of my research. Imagine a future where older adults receive exercise recommendations tailored to their individual needs rather than following a single programme designed for everyone.

For some, regular walking may be suitable. Others may benefit from cycling, muscle-strengthening activities or exercises that challenge both movement and thinking. The aim is not to find a miracle cure but to understand how science can help people maintain their independence and quality of life for longer.

Turning personal experience into research

My interest in dementia began long before the development of our latest research initiative. Through earlier studies supported by Malaysia’s Fundamental Research Grant Scheme (FRGS), my research team explored the relationship between genetics, exercise and brain function.

These efforts eventually led to a new research initiative known as ExeCogim. The project aims to investigate whether genetic information can help researchers develop more personalised exercise approaches to support brain health among older adults.

Recently, this research received RM174,400 under the Ministry of Higher Education’s GET Transformative Phase II Grant 2026. This support represents an important opportunity to explore how scientific findings might eventually benefit society.

However, ExeCogim remains a research initiative. Further studies are necessary before we can determine whether personalised exercise programmes based on genetic information offer meaningful advantages. Scientific progress requires patience, careful testing and reliable evidence.

A shared responsibility

Dementia is more than a medical challenge. It affects families, communities and healthcare services. Addressing it requires cooperation among researchers, healthcare professionals, caregivers, technology developers and organisations supporting older adults.

Equally important is public awareness. We should encourage healthy lifestyles, regular physical activity and greater attention to brain health as people age. Persistent memory difficulties should also be assessed by healthcare professionals rather than dismissed as ordinary ageing.

For families already caring for someone with dementia, understanding, patience and emotional support remain essential. I cannot change what my own family has experienced. Nor can I promise that our research will prevent dementia. But those experiences have strengthened my determination to search for better answers.

Perhaps one day, research will help more older adults remain active, independent and connected to their loved ones. Because growing older should not simply mean living longer. It should mean living well, preserving our independence and protecting the precious memories that connect us to the people we love.

* Assoc Prof Dr Hazwani Ahmad Yusof @ Hanafi is from Pusat Kanser Tun Abdullah Ahmad Badawi (PKTAAB), Universiti Sains Malaysia.

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

OCTOBER 31 — Before 2017, there had only been one formal confidence and supply agreement (CSA) in the United Kingdom (UK).

That was the 1977 “Lib-Lab pact” – the CSA between Liberal party and Labour party. The latter was the party in government with Jim Callaghan, the prime minister.

In exchange for their support, the Liberal MPs, led by David Steel, were granted a number of minor concessions. Most notably an “understanding” that Labour MPs would be given a free vote on the electoral system to be used in the forthcoming European parliamentary elections.

The Liberal leader had hoped this would result in the House of Commons supporting a proportional system. When more than 70 Labour MPs abstained from supporting the system, the pact was effectively over.

The only substantive policy achieved by the Liberals under the pact was the implementation of a profit-sharing scheme for business.

But the CSA did provide political stability. It kept the Labour Party in power, during which time there was a modest economic recovery.

The Liberals eventually broke off the pact in August 1978. Labour reverted to a minority government and negotiated agreements on a policy-by-policy basis with various minor parties until it finally lost a vote of confidence in March 1979.

In 2017, when Prime Minister Theresa May decided to call a general election in order to increase her majority in the House of Commons but which resulted in a hung Parliament, May’s Conservative government had to secure other votes in the House of Commons in order to govern and avoid losing a vote of no confidence.

May had the option to govern as a minority government, which would be highly unstable. Given the circumstances, May led the Conservative party with 318 MPs to enter into a CSA with the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), a unionist party from Northern Ireland with 10 MPs in the House of Commons.

A general view of the Houses of Parliament in London. Confidence and supply agreements allow minority governments in the UK to survive key votes. — Pexels pic

The CSA was agreed in June 2017, which was published and can be read here:

Under the CSA, the DUP would support the government on all motions of confidence and supply. It would also support the government on legislation concerning the UK’s exit from the European Union (EU), and legislation pertaining to national security.

In return, the government committed itself to allocating an additional £1 billion on public spending for Northern Ireland. Under the CSA’s working arrangements for the CSA, the government and the DUP would work together by means of a co-ordination committee.

The £1 billion of financial support would go towards six areas, namely (1) infrastructure development, (2) health service transformation, (3) broadband development, (4) immediate pressures in health and education, (5) pockets of severe deprivation and (6) mental health.

As for the duration of the CSA, parties agreed that it was to remain in place for the length of the Parliament, and reviewable by the mutual consent of both parties. It was further agreed that after each Parliamentary session both parties would review the aims, principles and implementation of the CSA.

The CSA enabled Prime Minister May to form a stable minority government by securing the DUP’s 10 crucial parliamentary votes. In return, Northern Ireland received a cash grant over five years.

Did the DUP trade its soul for cash in the CSA?

Critics argued that the DUP prioritized financial transactions over political integrity and long-term stability.

The DUP, however, strongly defended the CSA as “delivering tangible, practical prosperity to the constituents”.

The additional public spending for Northern Ireland can be tracked here:

It’s cash for the public not the MPs.

So, is CSA Confidence and Supply Agreement or Cash for Soul Agreement?

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

OCTOBER 31 — Entrepreneurship is often celebrated as a sign of economic strength. Across Malaysia, small businesses operate in neighbourhood shops, morning markets, residential areas and digital marketplaces.

They provide goods, services and income opportunities while contributing to the country’s economic activity.

Behind these businesses are individuals who have learned to navigate changing consumer preferences, rising costs and uncertain market conditions. Their ability to adapt reflects an important form of entrepreneurial resilience.

Yet resilience raises a broader question that deserves attention. Are we building an economy where entrepreneurial activity creates meaningful economic progress, or one where many businesses remain economically active without significantly improving their productivity and livelihoods?

According to the Department of Statistics Malaysia (DOSM), micro, small and medium enterprises (MSMEs) contributed 39.7 per cent of Malaysia’s gross domestic product (GDP) and accounted for 48.7 per cent of employment in 2025.

These figures demonstrate the importance of MSMEs. However, they also invite us to examine what happens beyond business participation.

Economic activity is not always economic progress

Imagine two small food businesses serving similar communities. Both receive regular orders and generate daily sales. However, one has gradually improved its preparation process, reduced material wastage and organised its operations more efficiently. The other continues to accommodate additional orders mainly by extending the owner’s working hours.

Both businesses remain economically active, but their productivity outcomes may differ.

A stall owner serves customers in George Town, Penang. Small businesses are a familiar part of Malaysia’s neighbourhoods. — Picture by Sayuti Zainudin

This distinction matters because productivity is not simply about working harder or selling more products. It concerns how effectively available resources are used to generate economic value.

For small businesses, productivity improvements may come from better production methods, improved skills, appropriate technology or more efficient use of time and resources.

These improvements are important not only for individual enterprises but also for Malaysia’s wider economic development. When businesses become more productive, they may be better positioned to improve earnings, strengthen competitiveness and create better employment opportunities.

Nevertheless, productivity gains do not automatically translate into higher household incomes or improved working conditions. How these benefits are distributed matters equally.

When entrepreneurship becomes a livelihood strategy

Entrepreneurship does not begin under the same circumstances for everyone.

Some individuals establish businesses to pursue opportunities, introduce new products or achieve greater financial independence.

Others turn to self-employment because suitable jobs are limited, household responsibilities require flexible working arrangements or additional income is necessary.

Both forms of entrepreneurship contribute to economic activity, but their starting conditions and development opportunities may be different.

For households with limited financial resources, business income may be closely connected to everyday expenses.

The priority may not be expansion, but maintaining sufficient earnings to support family needs.

This raises an important development consideration. An increase in entrepreneurial participation does not necessarily indicate that households are experiencing greater economic security or upward mobility.

We should therefore look beyond the number of businesses operating and consider whether entrepreneurship provides stable earnings, reasonable working conditions and opportunities for economic advancement.

Importantly, not every entrepreneur wishes to operate a larger enterprise. A small business can still represent meaningful economic progress when it provides a secure livelihood and improves household well-being.

A broader development challenge for Malaysia

Malaysia’s Thirteenth Malaysia Plan (RMK13), covering 2026 to 2030, places importance on productivity, competitiveness and higher-value economic activities.

These priorities are relevant to entrepreneurship because the contribution of MSMEs should not be viewed solely through business numbers or their aggregate economic contribution.

Attention must also be given to how smaller enterprises participate in productive economic activities, access emerging opportunities and benefit from improvements in skills and technology.

This requires understanding the differences between businesses that can advance towards higher-value activities and those whose circumstances limit such opportunities.

Entrepreneurial resilience remains a valuable strength within Malaysia’s economy.

However, its contribution to national development becomes more meaningful when accompanied by improvements in productivity, livelihood security and economic mobility.

Ultimately, Malaysia’s development challenge is not simply to encourage more people to participate in entrepreneurship, but to ensure that entrepreneurial participation creates opportunities for better livelihoods and shared economic progress.

* Nik Zirwatul Fatihah is a Research Fellow Post Doctorate at the Ungku Aziz Centre for Development Studies, Universiti Malaya, and can be reached at nikzirwatul@um.edu.my.

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

OCTOBER 31 — North Korea has long been associated with nuclear brinkmanship, ballistic missile development and international sanctions.

Yet another dimension of its national security apparatus has become increasingly consequential: cyber operations.

The reported US$6.3 billion cryptocurrency heist involving Binance, with North Korea emerging as a suspected culprit, illustrates the scale of the challenge.

What makes this development particularly significant is not merely the enormous sum allegedly stolen.

It is the possibility that cyber theft has become a recurring instrument of state financing and strategic competition.

North Korea’s alleged involvement in successive cryptocurrency attacks raises an uncomfortable question about the future of international security.

What happens when a sanctioned state can potentially generate billions of dollars through cyber operations without crossing a physical border?

The answer lies in understanding the emergence of what may be described analytically as the perpetual hacker state.

Unlike conventional military operations, cyberattacks can be conducted repeatedly, covertly and across jurisdictions.

North Korea is suspected of carrying out a series of cryptocurrency heists. — Pexels pic

They do not necessarily require large armies, sophisticated naval fleets or extensive logistical networks.

A relatively small number of highly trained operators, supported by technical infrastructure and intelligence capabilities, can potentially inflict disproportionate financial damage. This creates a strategic asymmetry.

Countries with substantially larger economies may invest billions in cybersecurity, yet remain vulnerable to attacks targeting employees, software suppliers, digital custodians and financial intermediaries.

North Korea’s suspected role in the US$1.5 billion Bybit cryptocurrency theft in February 2025 already demonstrated the magnitude of this threat.

The latest allegations concerning Binance reinforce the need to examine whether digital financial theft has become an enduring component of Pyongyang’s external operations.

There is a crucial distinction between ordinary cybercrime and state-linked cyber operations.

Criminal syndicates generally seek private enrichment.

State-directed operations may serve wider strategic objectives, including sanctions evasion, intelligence gathering and the acquisition of resources for national programmes.

For North Korea, which remains subject to extensive international restrictions, digital assets may offer opportunities unavailable through conventional financial channels.

Cryptocurrency provides rapid cross-border transferability.

Its decentralised architecture can complicate investigations, particularly when stolen assets are dispersed across multiple wallets and blockchains.

However, cryptocurrency transactions are not inherently invisible.

Blockchain analytics, coordinated enforcement and asset freezes have demonstrated that illicit flows can sometimes be traced and interrupted.

The central problem is therefore not that cryptocurrency is beyond regulation.

It is that cybercriminals and state-linked operators can exploit the gaps between national jurisdictions, corporate security systems and international enforcement mechanisms.

Artificial intelligence adds further complexity.

AI-assisted phishing, impersonation, reconnaissance and social engineering can increase the speed and sophistication of cyber operations.

Even the strongest cryptographic architecture cannot fully protect an exchange whose personnel or administrative systems have been compromised.

The blockchain may remain intact while the surrounding institution fails.

This is the fundamental chink in crypto’s armour.

The consequences extend well beyond cryptocurrency investors.

As digital assets become more closely connected to mainstream banking, payment systems and institutional investment, a major breach could produce wider financial instability.

For Asean, these developments warrant serious attention.

Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand and other regional economies are expanding their digital financial ecosystems.

They must ensure that innovation is accompanied by credible cybersecurity standards, effective supervision and stronger regional intelligence-sharing arrangements.

Asean should broaden and deepen cooperation with South Korea, Japan, China, the United States and European partners to identify illicit financial networks and improve cross-border asset recovery.

South Korea, in particular, possesses extensive experience in monitoring cyber threats attributed to its northern neighbour.

Its expertise can contribute to regional capacity-building without requiring Asean to become involved in the Korean Peninsula’s military confrontation.

Ultimately, North Korea’s alleged cryptocurrency activities illustrate a broader transformation in international security.

Economic warfare no longer requires physical blockades or the seizure of financial institutions.

It can increasingly be conducted through compromised networks, stolen credentials and manipulated digital infrastructure.

The perpetual hacker state is therefore not simply a description of North Korea’s suspected conduct.

It is a warning about a strategic model that other malicious actors could attempt to replicate.

As long as cyber operations offer substantial rewards at comparatively limited cost, the incentives for repeated attacks will persist.

The international community must respond by making such operations harder to execute, easier to detect and more costly to sustain.

The future of financial security will depend not only on protecting money, but also on protecting the digital systems through which money moves.

Without that protection, the perpetual hacker state may become one of the defining security challenges of the digital century.

* Phar Kim Beng is professor of Asean Studies, and director at the Institute of International and Asean Studies, International Islamic University Malaysia.

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

OCTOBER 30 — The ability of Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan to meet Iranian leaders in Tehran on October 26, 2026, marks a potentially important turning point in Middle Eastern diplomacy.

It demonstrates that even when military tensions are mounting, the instruments of high diplomacy must never be abandoned.

Indeed, the greater the danger of war, the more indispensable diplomacy becomes.

The Mecca Joint Defence Agreement, established in August 2026, was conceived as a collective security arrangement. An attack against one member would be regarded as an attack against all three.

Yet its significance now extends beyond military deterrence.

By engaging Iran directly, the three countries have demonstrated that collective defence need not become collective confrontation.

This is the essence of high diplomacy: the ability to possess formidable military capabilities while retaining the political wisdom not to use them unnecessarily.

As Kaswar Klasra explained in his recent analysis in Global Asia, the Tehran meeting followed diplomatic consultations in Istanbul involving European and Middle Eastern representatives.

Iran’s President Masoud Pezeshkian (centre, left) shaking hands with Saudi Arabia’s Defence Minister Prince Khalid bin Salman Al-Saud after a meeting with the Pakistani army chief and the Turkish intelligence chief in Tehran on October 26, 2026. Iran began talks on October 26 with the three countries of the Mecca security pact, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Turkey, to discuss regional issues as the months-long Middle East war remains locked in a stalemate, state television reported. — Iranian Presidency handout pic via AFP

Both initiatives reflected growing recognition that regional security crises cannot be addressed separately.

The Tehran meeting was especially significant because of the seniority of its participants.

Saudi Defence Minister Prince Khalid bin Salman, Pakistan’s army chief Field Marshal Asim Munir and Türkiye’s intelligence chief Ibrahim Kalin represented three countries possessing considerable military, economic and strategic capabilities.

Their presence in Tehran was not merely ceremonial.

It represented a willingness to engage a country with which their strategic interests do not always coincide.

Saudi Arabia has endured repeated attacks from Yemen’s Iran-aligned Houthis. Türkiye remains a major Nato member. Pakistan possesses nuclear weapons and shares a sensitive border with Iran.

Yet all three recognise that military superiority cannot automatically produce political stability.

Military deterrence can prevent aggression. But diplomacy is necessary to prevent deterrence from deteriorating into uncontrolled confrontation.

The willingness of Tehran to receive the delegation is equally important.

Iran has repeatedly warned against renewed American and Israeli military operations.

Nevertheless, by opening its doors to the Mecca Pact representatives, Tehran demonstrated that communication with regional powers remains possible.

That opening must be preserved.

The significance of the meeting also lies in its potential to reshape the regional security architecture.

For decades, Middle Eastern security has been heavily influenced by external powers, especially the United States.

Yet the current conflict has revealed the limitations of relying overwhelmingly on external military guarantees.

Washington remains influential. But American involvement has not prevented the widening of hostilities or the disruption of energy supplies.

The Mecca Pact offers another possibility.

Saudi Arabia brings financial resources, energy influence and religious significance. Türkiye contributes military sophistication, defence technology and diplomatic reach.

Pakistan brings strategic depth, military experience and nuclear deterrence.

Together, these three medium sized powers possess substantial collective influence.

Their willingness to meet Iran suggests that regional powers may increasingly seek to manage their own security disputes.

Discussions surrounding a possible regional non-aggression framework could eventually provide the foundations for a more inclusive security arrangement.

Such an arrangement would not necessarily displace the United States.

Rather, it could broaden and deepen the diplomatic architecture through which regional security is maintained.

The economic implications are equally profound.

The Strait of Hormuz and the Bab el-Mandab are not merely regional waterways. They are indispensable arteries of international commerce.

Disruptions to oil, liquefied natural gas, shipping insurance and maritime transportation affect economies far beyond the Middle East.

Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, Japan, South Korea and China all have strong interests in restoring maritime stability.

For Asean, the consequences of continued confrontation are particularly serious.

Higher energy prices increase production costs. 

Maritime disruptions affect supply chains. Rising insurance premiums undermine trade competitiveness.

A prolonged conflict could also complicate food security, especially through disruptions to fertiliser production and transportation.

Consequently, high diplomacy between the Mecca Pact and Iran is not a distant geopolitical spectacle.

It is directly relevant to the economic security of Southeast Asia.

Malaysia should therefore welcome the Tehran initiative and encourage its continuation.

Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim has consistently emphasised the importance of dialogue, international law and peaceful conflict resolution.

These principles should now translate into stronger diplomatic support for the regional peace initiatives undertaken by Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, Pakistan and Qatar.

Malaysia enjoys constructive relations with these countries while maintaining diplomatic relations with Iran.

This provides Kuala Lumpur with an opportunity to support confidence-building measures without positioning itself against any particular country.

Asean, under the Philippines’ chairmanship in 2026, should similarly recognise that developments in West Asia have direct implications for Southeast Asian prosperity.

The Asean Will must be demonstrated through practical diplomacy rather than expressions of concern alone.

Malaysia could encourage Asean consultations with the Mecca Pact countries, Iran and other relevant regional actors on maritime security, energy resilience and humanitarian protection.

Such engagement would reinforce rather than duplicate existing diplomatic efforts.

Nevertheless, the Tehran meeting should not be romanticised.

Previous diplomatic efforts between Washington and Tehran have failed to produce lasting peace.

Military confrontation has resumed. The Houthis continue to threaten regional security. 

Washington and Tehran remain divided over sanctions, maritime restrictions and Iran’s nuclear programme.

High diplomacy must therefore be measured by results rather than ceremonial meetings.

The immediate priorities should include a sustained ceasefire, protection of commercial shipping, restraint against attacks on civilian infrastructure and the restoration of credible negotiations between Washington and Tehran.

There must also be a serious effort to address Yemen’s humanitarian catastrophe.

Without these measures, even the most impressive diplomatic gathering could become another missed opportunity.

Yet diplomacy cannot be judged solely by whether it produces an immediate comprehensive agreement.

Its first achievement may simply be preventing another round of escalation.

That is already valuable when the alternative could involve a much wider regional war.

The deeper lesson of the Tehran meeting is that military strength and diplomatic engagement are not mutually exclusive.

Indeed, military strength becomes more credible when accompanied by political restraint.

The Mecca Pact would diminish its own strategic relevance if it became merely another instrument of confrontation.

Conversely, it could acquire lasting international significance if it helps establish a regional security arrangement capable of preventing wars.

Iran, too, has much to gain from demonstrating that it can negotiate seriously with neighbouring powers.

For President Donald Trump and the Israeli leadership, the emergence of this diplomatic channel should also be recognised as an opportunity rather than an obstacle.

Ultimately, the importance of the Mecca Pact may not be determined by how many soldiers it can deploy or how sophisticated its military capabilities become.

Its greatest achievement could be its ability to prevent those capabilities from ever being used in a devastating regional war.

The meeting in Tehran is therefore more than a diplomatic gesture. 

It is an important reminder that the highest expression of strategic power is not the capacity to wage war, but the wisdom to prevent one.

That is precisely why high diplomacy must prevail.

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD, is Professor of Asean Studies at the International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of the Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

OCTOBER 30 — Malaysians have felt the Middle East conflict at the petrol pump and in the grocery bill. Benchmark crude has traded at around US$100 a barrel in recent weeks, and every ringgit spent cushioning that increase is a ringgit not spent on schools, hospitals and the grid.

Last week, the energy conversation moved closer to home. On October 21, Indonesia’s Energy and Mineral Resources Minister Bahlil Lahadalia said Jakarta was considering not renewing some gas export contracts with neighbours, in line with President Prabowo Subianto’s directive to put domestic needs first. Indonesia then trimmed pipeline gas deliveries to Singapore for about 18 days, saying the cut stayed within contractual limits. Malaysia, which also buys Indonesian gas, was not singled out.

Indonesia’s concern is understandable. Earlier this month, a 16-hour blackout in Batam left more than 411,000 customers without power, and any government would want to secure supply for its own people first. Singapore responded calmly, noting the cut was under two per cent of its daily gas demand. The episode shows that in a prolonged crisis every Asean capital will feel pressure to look inward, and that the region is better served when those pressures are managed together.

In Asean, respect has long meant standing with a neighbour when times are hard. — Picture by Firdaus Latif

Targeted relief, lasting reform

Jakarta’s instinct to protect households is one Malaysia shares. For many years, our quickest tool was the blanket fuel subsidy.

The Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs (IDEAS) has cautioned that this habit is becoming financially unsustainable. Its Director of Research, Dr Stewart Nixon, said Malaysia cannot keep relying on subsidies that offer “temporary relief but preserve a status quo that will never return.”

Malaysia has made real progress, ending blanket diesel subsidies in 2024 and moving to targeted RON95 pricing. The next step is to make crisis support time-limited, directed at low-income households and transport operators, and paired with reforms that reward energy efficiency.

Building flexibility together

Malte Küper of the German Economic Institute, who co-wrote the IDEAS report, argued that energy security depends not only on suppliers but on whether a country’s infrastructure allows it to switch sources.

That is a shared test for Asean. If each member meets a shock alone, one conserving gas, another bidding for costly spot LNG, a third tightening exports, pressures that began in the Gulf ripple across our own region. A community of nearly 700 million people is stronger with one coordinated plan than with ten separate ones.

Serumpun in practice

Asean already has the tools. Energy ministers meeting in Manila this month reviewed steps to put coordinated emergency responses under the Asean Petroleum Security Agreement into effect. Agreeing in advance on the volumes members would share in an emergency, and on what terms, would give every capital confidence that supply will be there when it matters. The Asean Summit in Manila on November 16 to 18 is a timely opportunity to take this forward.

Such cooperation rests on quiet, steady diplomacy. Malaysia and Indonesia are bangsa serumpun, with a long record of working through differences at the Joint Commission and in dialogue between leaders. The gas pipeline that has served both countries for many years is a symbol of that partnership.

Shared infrastructure also builds trust. Sarawak already supplies electricity to West Kalimantan with little fanfare. Extending such links through the Asean Power Grid and the Trans-Asean Gas Pipeline would give every member a stake in the others’ stability, making interdependence a source of security rather than concern.

None of this can be improvised mid-crisis. The IDEAS call for scenario planning and sharper market intelligence deserves a regional hearing, allowing Asean to anticipate shocks together rather than one capital at a time.

Minister Bahlil is right that mutual respect matters. In Asean, respect has long meant standing with a neighbour when times are hard. As serumpun, Malaysia and Indonesia are well placed to show the region what that looks like in an energy crisis.

Ahmad Nizam Che Kasim

AGILE Research Group,

Faculty of Business & Communication,

Universiti Malaysia Perlis

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

OCTOBER 30 — When the air becomes difficult to breathe and outdoor activities have to be cancelled, science suddenly becomes very real.

Parents worry about health. Businesses worry about productivity. Schools worry. People check the Air Pollutant Index (API), look for face masks and ask when the haze will clear.

Yet when scientists warn about climate change, the public response is often less immediate. The threats may be enormous, but they can seem distant, abstract and disconnected from the routines of daily life.

This contrast presents Malaysia with an important opportunity. Can we turn the public’s haze concern into a lasting commitment to science itself?

When the air becomes difficult to breathe and outdoor activities have to be cancelled, science suddenly becomes very real. Parents worry about health. Businesses worry about productivity. Schools worry. People check the Air Pollutant Index, look for face masks and ask when the haze will clear. — mytho/Pexels pic

Climate change is a global concern whose consequences unfold over decades. Although its effects are already being experienced in many countries, the connection between an individual action today and a climatic consequence tomorrow is not always obvious to the public.

Haze is different. It is visible, tangible and disruptive. It brings the consequences of environmental problems directly into people’s homes, workplaces and lungs.

Scientific research has documented the health and economic implications of haze in Malaysia. The Academy of Sciences Malaysia (ASM), for example, has examined its causes and potential solutions, including air-quality monitoring, peatland and water management, and the conversion of biomass into useful energy and materials. Its work demonstrates that haze is not merely an environmental inconvenience; it is a complex problem requiring scientific, economic and social solutions.

The public may not immediately appreciate the value of atmospheric modelling, satellite observations, epidemiological studies or research into land management. But when these scientific capabilities help explain where pollution comes from, identify health risks and improve forecasts, their value becomes much easier to understand.

The challenge, therefore, is not simply to communicate science more effectively during a haze episode. It is to use that episode to demonstrate why a scientifically informed society is better equipped to confront problems before they become crises.

In Malaysia, much of the financial responsibility for scientific research rests with the government and publicly funded institutions. Such support remains indispensable. Basic research, long-term environmental monitoring and investigations whose benefits cannot be easily commercialised are unlikely to receive sufficient private investment without public funding.

However, should the government be expected to shoulder almost the entire burden of advancing science?

Science contributes to public health, industrial competitiveness, food security, environmental resilience and national prosperity. Its benefits extend well beyond universities and laboratories. Businesses use scientific discoveries to develop products and improve processes. Communities benefit from better knowledge and technologies. Citizens benefit from improved public services and more informed decisions.

It follows that the responsibility for supporting science should be shared more widely.

The private sector can contribute through research partnerships, corporate donations, endowed research chairs, scholarships, innovation funds and support for scientific institutions. Businesses whose operations depend on natural resources, energy, agriculture, healthcare and manufacturing have particular reasons to invest in scientific knowledge.

But corporate participation should not be limited to funding research that promises immediate commercial returns. Companies can also support independent research into public-interest questions, including environmental risks, occupational health and the long-term sustainability of their industries.

The general public, too, can participate. Individual contributions may be small, but collective support can help finance research, science education, citizen-science initiatives and the communication of scientific findings.

The objective is not to replace government funding with private money. It is to build a broader ecosystem in which public investment is complemented by private-sector commitment and public participation.

There is, however, an important qualification. People cannot reasonably be expected to support science simply because they are told that science is important.

They must be able to see what their contributions achieve.

Scientific institutions need to explain their work in accessible language, demonstrate its relevance to society and communicate both successes and uncertainties honestly. They must also show how research contributes to better decisions, new technologies and improvements in people’s lives.

The haze offers a natural starting point.

Imagine a national initiative in which all parties work together to explain the science of air pollution. How particulate matter affects health, how satellites detect fires, how meteorological conditions influence pollution and how researchers distinguish local pollution sources from transboundary smoke.

Companies could sponsor independent research, support public monitoring initiatives and help develop technologies for pollution prevention and detection. Universities could open their laboratories to the public and invite researchers to explain their findings. Schools could use local air-quality data to introduce students to environmental science.

The initiative should not disappear when the skies clear.

The haze is the immediate concern; the larger objective is to cultivate a society that understands and values scientific inquiry, even when the problem being investigated is less visible.

* The author is affiliated with the Tan Sri Omar Centre for STI Policy Studies at UCSI University and is an Adjunct Professor at the Ungku Aziz Centre for Development Studies, Universiti Malaya. He can be reached at ahmadibrahim@ucsiuniversity.edu.my.

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

OCTOBER 29 — Having a decent roof over your head isn’t just about comfort, it is about survival and opportunity.

It determines whether a family loses their entire life savings when the monsoon waters inevitable rise, or whether a wage worker can live close enough to their job to avoid spending hours in traffic each day.

Malaysia has understood the task and over the past few decades, the country has made remarkable progress in expanding access to housing, most recently pushing past national targets by delivering more than 511,000 affordable housing units under the Twelfth Malaysia Plan.

Large-scale public housing programmes, urban upgrading efforts and investments in infrastructure have helped improve living conditions for many communities.

The author argues that adequate housing goes beyond providing shelter, calling for safe, affordable, climate-resilient and well-connected homes supported by inclusive urban planning and community involvement. — Unsplash pic

Yet new challenges continue to emerge such as rapid urbanisation, with the national urban population now exceeding 75 per cent, changing demographics, rising living costs and climate-related risks are reshaping what Malaysians need from housing today.

As we celebrate this Urban October under the theme “Adequate Housing for All”, the question is no longer simply whether a family has a roof over their heads.

The more important question is whether that home is safe, affordable, resilient, well-connected and able to support a decent quality of life.

For Malaysia, as for the world, ensuring adequate housing is central to building inclusive, resilient and sustainable cities.

Globally an estimated 2.8 billion people face some form of housing inadequacy, and close to 1.1 billion live in slums and informal settlements.

As climate change intensifies, the need for resilient housing, risk-informed planning and safer urban development becomes increasingly important.

Malaysia is increasingly integrating climate resilience into housing and urban development policies through nature-based solutions, resilient infrastructure and risk-informed planning approaches that seek to protect vulnerable communities while improving urban liveability.

Recognising these challenges, the country recently launched the National Housing Policy 2026-2035, which emphasises housing affordability, a more responsive relationship between housing supply and local demand, stronger housing data systems, integration of housing and transport planning, and the development of a more formal and regulated rental ecosystem.

The policy reflects an important shift: adequate housing is being recognised not only as a matter of construction, but also as a matter of urban liveability, inclusion and long-term resilience.

A decade after world leaders adopted the New Urban Agenda (NUA), the verdict is clear global progress if falling far behind schedule, Member States recommitted to these goals through 2036.

Malaysia’s evolving housing agenda positions the country to lead by example to the NUA commitments.

Having hosted the Ninth World Urban Forum (WUF9) and taking on the Presidency of the UN-Habitat Assembly for 2025–2027, Malaysia is no longer following international frameworks, is actively shaping them.

Global goals only matter if they make a difference on your street.

That is where UN-Habitat and URBANICE Malaysia focus their work, helping cities and states turn big international commitments into practical local plans.

One way they do this is through Voluntary Local Reviews and Voluntary Subnational Reviews.

These are health checks that cities and states carry out on themselves.

They measure how well they are doing on the Sustainable Development Goals, the targets the world has agreed on for ending poverty, protecting the planet and improving lives.

With UN-Habitat’s support, Malaysian local authorities have used these reviews to see where they stand, plan with real evidence and bring more voices into decision-making.

URBANICE Malaysia also helps cities learn from one another.

Through the Malaysia Urban Innovation Hub, public forums and hands-on support for local councils, it connects people who are solving similar problems in different places, so a good idea in one town can take root in another.

All of this comes back to a simple point: a home doesn’t stand alone.

It needs a bus stop nearby, clean water, a safe park, jobs within reach and protection from floods, and some of the best ideas come from residents themselves.

At Malaysia Urban Forum 2026, held under the theme “The Future City I Want to Call Home”, community members, young people and researchers shared practical ideas for better places to live.

The Ministry of Local Government Development (KPKT) is now funding three community-led pilot projects to put some of those ideas into action.

It is a reminder that people who live in a place usually know best what it needs.

Urban October invites us to remember that adequate housing is about people, opportunity and dignity.

When every Malaysian has a home that is safe, affordable and connected, we build stronger communities and a future we can all call home.

* Srinivasa Popuri is the Chief of the UN-Habitat Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific 

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

OCTOBER 29 — The East Coast Rail Link (ECRL) is approaching a defining moment in Malaysia’s infrastructure development.

On December 12, 2026, the country is scheduled to witness the commencement of a new chapter in rail connectivity, linking the East Coast with the Klang Valley through a modern, electrified railway system.

For many Malaysians, the immediate question is understandably straightforward: How much will a ticket cost, how long will the journey take, and will travelling by train be more worthwhile than driving?

This is accompanied by a much larger question.

What kind of economic, social and logistical transformation can a railway of this scale deliver over the next 30, 50 or even 100 years?

That is where the real story of the ECRL begins.

The ECRL is not simply another passenger railway. It is a strategic national infrastructure investment designed to reshape connectivity, strengthen economic integration and create opportunities that extend well beyond the railway tracks.

And its success should ultimately be measured not merely by the number of tickets sold, but by the lasting value it creates for Malaysia.

The true value of time

For passengers, the benefits of the ECRL are much more immediate.

A journey between Gombak and Kota Bharu that may take seven or eight hours by road under favourable conditions is expected to take approximately four hours through the ECRL express service.

During festive seasons, when major highways experience severe congestion, the difference can become substantially greater.

But the value of a railway journey should not be measured by travel time alone.

On December 12, 2026, the country is scheduled to witness the commencement of a new chapter in rail connectivity, linking the East Coast with the Klang Valley through a modern, electrified railway system. — Malaysia Rail Link picture

While driving requires constant attention on the road, travelling by train allows passengers to rest, read, work or simply enjoy the journey. For business travellers, those hours may become productive time, while families, students and senior citizens can enjoy a more comfortable and less physically demanding journey. These benefits do not always appear in a simple comparison of petrol expenses against ticket prices.

Transport affordability should not be confused with the lowest possible monetary cost. Value also includes time, safety, comfort, reliability and convenience.

This does not mean that rail will always be the cheapest option for every traveller.

A family of six or seven travelling together may reasonably find that driving costs less than purchasing individual train tickets.

The ECRL is not intended to eliminate private car travel or replace every existing transport option, but to introduce another choice into Malaysia’s transportation system.

The objective is to give Malaysians the freedom to choose a better way to travel when rail meets their needs.

Understanding the economics of dynamic pricing

The recent announcement of ECRL passenger fares has generated considerable public interest.

Economy-class fares for the Gombak-Kota Bharu journey will start from RM125 for transit services and RM147 for express services, while the Gombak-Kuantan journey will start from RM60.

These are starting fares under a dynamic pricing mechanism approved by the government.

Dynamic pricing is not an unfamiliar concept. It has been used extensively in the airline industry and other transport-related services to manage demand, capacity and revenue.

Rail transport serves as an essential public mobility option. Therefore, pricing must be managed with due consideration for accessibility, affordability and public confidence.

The dynamic pricing mechanism is designed to encourage early booking, improve capacity utilisation, distribute passenger demand and provide opportunities for travellers to obtain more affordable fares.

Government-approved concessions for eligible children, senior citizens and persons with disabilities, alongside the special 30 per cent introductory discount for eligible Malaysian economy-class passengers during the first month of operations enables more Malaysians to experience the service.

However, discounts will not determine the ECRL’s long-term success. 

Building public confidence requires a transparent pricing system that is predictable enough for journey planning and responsive to the needs of different passenger groups. 

Over time, actual passenger demand and travel patterns should inform further improvements to the fare structure.

Our commitment is to balance commercial realities with our wider public service responsibilities, ensuring the ECRL’s long-term sustainability. 

The last mile is as important as the first 600 kilometres

A railway journey does not begin when a passenger boards the train.

Nor does it end when the train reaches its destination station.

It begins at home and ends at the traveller’s actual destination.

This is one of the most important principles in developing an effective public transportation system.

A four-hour train journey may lose much of its advantage if passengers subsequently face long waiting times, inconvenient transfers or expensive onward transportation.

That is why station accessibility and first- and last-mile connectivity deserve serious attention.

The ECRL must ultimately function as part of a wider transportation ecosystem.

This requires coordination among railway operators, local authorities, bus operators, e-hailing providers, taxi services and other transport stakeholders.

At major stations, integration with existing public transportation networks will be particularly important.

At smaller stations, practical solutions may differ according to local population density, passenger demand and surrounding development.

Not every station requires the same model.

Some may benefit from scheduled feeder buses.

Others may require demand-responsive transport, better taxi facilities, e-hailing pickup areas or improved pedestrian access.

The objective is straightforward: passengers must be able to complete their journeys with reasonable convenience and cost.

This is also an area where state governments and local authorities have an important role, to strengthen the surrounding transport network and urban environment.

A railway built for more than passengers 

While passenger services will be the most visible aspect of the ECRL, its economic purpose extends well beyond moving people. 

The ECRL is a freight-led railway that also provides modern intercity passenger services. This distinction is fundamental to understanding its economic purpose.

By connecting the East Coast to the Klang Valley and ultimately Port Klang, the railway will provide an alternative logistics corridor for businesses moving goods between production centres, industrial areas and international markets.

Its potential is particularly significant for industries involving containerised cargo, manufacturing, petrochemicals, minerals and agricultural products. The connection between Kuantan Port and Port Klang also creates opportunities for a landbridge linking Malaysia’s eastern and western maritime gateways.

A single freight train can transport a substantial volume of goods, potentially reducing the number of heavy vehicles required for equivalent cargo movements along major highways.

For example, a train carrying 90 TEUs represents the equivalent of 90 twenty-foot containers.

The potential benefits include improved logistics efficiency, reduced highway congestion, lower road maintenance pressures and reduced transport-related emissions where freight shifts effectively from road to electrified rail.

For manufacturers and logistics providers, reliability can be just as important as transportation cost. Through efficient cargo handling, reliable schedules and effective terminal operations,I envision ECRL to provide logistics solutions that support businesses and build sustainable freight demand. 

This is why the ECRL should not be assessed solely through the economics of passenger ticket sales. Its wider economic contribution may ultimately be found in factories established, investments attracted, logistics efficiencies achieved, employment generated and regional economic activities stimulated. 

A catalyst for regional economic rebalancing

Perhaps the most transformative contribution of the ECRL will be its potential to support more inclusive regional development.

Improved connectivity may make industrial locations along the East Coast more attractive to investors, supporting the expansion of existing industrial parks and creating opportunities for new manufacturing and logistics activities.

Tourism destinations and local businesses may benefit from improved accessibility, while communities can enjoy greater mobility for employment, education, healthcare and family connections. 

To maximise these opportunities, continued collaboration with state governments, investment agencies, businesses and local communities will be important in encouraging complementary investment, industrial development and local entrepreneurship along the ECRL corridor. 

The greatest economic value of the railway may not be what happens inside the train, but what happens outside it because the railway exists.

A new industrial investment, a logistics hub, a tourism business or an employment opportunity created along the corridor may generate benefits extending far beyond the railway operator’s financial statements.

That is the broader national development perspective through which the ECRL should be understood.

The journey is only beginning

As Malaysia prepares for the ECRL’s commencement of operations, public discussion about fares, affordability, accessibility and service quality should be welcomed.

We are committed to earning public confidence by delivering value to passengers, reliability to freight customers and meaningful economic benefits to communities along the ECRL corridor. 

But we must also recognise that its purpose is considerably greater than reducing a journey between Gombak and Kota Bharu to approximately four hours.

It is about bringing regions closer together.

It is about connecting businesses to markets.

It is about creating new possibilities for investment and employment.

It is about strengthening Malaysia’s logistics competitiveness.

And ultimately, it is about building infrastructure that future generations can continue to benefit from.

The first ECRL passenger journey will mark an important milestone. But the railway’s greatest achievement will not be the distance it covers or the speed at which it travels.

It will be the opportunities it creates, the communities it connects and the economic future it helps Malaysia build.

The ECRL journey is indeed only just beginning.

And its destination is far greater than any station on the map.

* Datuk Seri Darwis Abdul Razak is the Chief Executive Officer of Malaysia Rail Link Sdn Bhd (MRL), the project owner of the East Coast Rail Link (ECRL). The views expressed are intended to contribute to public understanding of the ECRL’s strategic, economic and social significance.

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

OCTOBER 29 — Imagine a university student being accused of academic dishonesty for using artificial intelligence (AI) to improve an assignment. Now imagine the same assignment being marked by a lecturer who uses AI to generate feedback, suggest grades or evaluate the student’s arguments. The student is expected to declare every use of AI, but the lecturer may not be required to explain anything. Is this academic integrity, or are we practising double standards?

This is an uncomfortable question Malaysian universities must confront. We cannot continue treating AI as a threat when students use it and a symbol of innovation when lecturers do. If universities want students to behave ethically, lecturers must demonstrate the same responsibility.

Let us be clear. AI is not the enemy of education. Blind dependence on it is. A student who copies an AI-generated essay without thinking has learned very little. Equally, a lecturer who accepts AI-generated marks or comments without carefully reviewing them has neglected an important professional responsibility.

The solution is not to ban AI but to rethink how we teach, learn and assess. We can learn from universities abroad. The University of Sydney in Australia has introduced a two-lane assessment approach. Some assessments are supervised to establish what students can do independently, while others openly allow AI as a learning tool. This recognises a simple reality: graduates must learn both to think for themselves and to work responsibly with technology.

Universities should require both students and lecturers to disclose how they use AI, including how it contributes to assignments or feedback, and ensure all work is personally reviewed to uphold academic integrity. — Pexels.com pic

University College London takes another important position. While it provides guidance for responsible student use of AI, its guidance states that lecturers should not use generative AI to mark students’ work because of concerns about reliability and bias. Meanwhile, guidance at the University of Minnesota encourages transparency, human review and the option of human feedback when AI is involved.

These examples offer valuable lessons for Malaysia. First, universities should introduce an AI Accountability Receipt for both students and lecturers. Students would briefly explain how AI helped them, which suggestions they rejected and what intellectual contributions were genuinely theirs. Lecturers who use AI for feedback should similarly disclose its role and confirm that they personally reviewed the work. Academic honesty must travel in both directions.

Second, we should introduce an innovative assessment called “Put AI on Trial.” Instead of asking students to write another predictable essay, give them an AI-generated answer containing questionable claims, weak arguments and possibly fabricated references. Their task is to expose the mistakes, correct the reasoning and defend their decisions. The marks should reward the student’s judgment, not the machine’s fluency.

Third, every major AI-assisted assignment could include a short “Defend Your Thinking” conversation. Students explain their choices, challenge the AI’s suggestions and demonstrate what they have learned. This need not be an intimidating oral examination. Even a three-minute discussion can reveal thinking that a polished written submission may conceal.

Fourth, lecturers must remain responsible for the marks they award. AI may help prepare rubrics, organise feedback or suggest improvements where institutional rules permit, but it should never become an unquestioned judge of student achievement. Students also deserve privacy protection, meaningful explanations of their grades and a fair opportunity to challenge errors.

Finally, fairness means ensuring that students have reasonable access to approved AI tools and proper training. Otherwise, students who can afford expensive subscriptions may gain advantages over those who cannot. Universities should assess intellectual ability, not purchasing power.

Malaysia has an opportunity to develop graduates who are not merely competent users of AI but thoughtful critics of it. This requires lecturers to model the ethical conduct they expect from students. Perhaps the real question universities should ask is no longer, “Did you use AI?” but rather, “What did you contribute that AI could not?” And lecturers must be prepared to answer that question too. We cannot teach integrity through rules that apply only to students. If AI is to transform higher education, accountability must begin on both sides of the classroom.

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

OCTOBER 29 — All of us are mostly aware that politics used to have a predictable setting. Politicians spoke at rallies, debated in Parliament and appeared on television news. Malaysians listened, read the newspapers, occasionally, argued about what they had heard over teh tarik sessions with friends 

Today, politics has found a new stage; our smartphones. It has been a mediator not only for digesting information but also reshaping how ordinary people interact with those with power. Surprisingly, nowadays it is increasingly common to discover politicians speaking casually into the camera, responding to trending issues, cracking jokes or sharing snippets of their daily lives through platforms such as Tiktok, Instagram, Facebook or YouTube. 

Welcome to the age of politainment, where politics meets entertainment. 

Politainment is not necessarily about turning politicians into celebrities. Rather, it describes how political information is increasingly packaged using the techniques of entertainment: personality, humour, storytelling, emotion and easily shareable content. 

Today, politics has found a new stage; our smartphones. It has been a mediator not only for digesting information but also reshaping how ordinary people interact with those with power. ― AFP pic

Malaysia offers several interesting examples. 

One of the current popular MPs was among the Malaysian politicians who recognised TikTok’s potential relatively early. During the 15th General Election, his account featured political speeches, campaign messages and videos designed for younger social-media audiences. 

His approach demonstrates how a politician can communicate serious political messages using the language and format of a platform traditionally associated with entertainment. Instead of expecting young people to come to politics, politics goes to where young people already are.

A second example is one of the Chief Ministers of a Malaysian state whose social-media presence has become sufficiently distinctive to attract academic attention. A Malaysian study examining his TikTok content specifically describes it through the concept of politainment, analysing how political meaning is created through performance and audience interaction. 

Taking him as an example, the importance of personality in contemporary political communication becomes difficult to ignore. Political messages are no longer communicated solely through manifestos and formal speeches. Humour, speaking style, spontaneity and personal image can become part of a politician’s public brand. 

A third example comes from a different medium. 

Two former ministers who conversed and discussed through a special podcast have demonstrated how lengthy political discussions can also adopt elements of entertainment. 

The programme discusses politics, policies and current affairs in a conversational and accessible manner. Instead of the rigid atmosphere associated with a formal political interview, listeners encounter discussion, disagreement, humour and personal observations. 

The podcast demonstrates how serious political issues can be presented through a conversational format that combines analysis, personal observations and humour. 

These examples show that politainment is not one particular style. It can be a 30-second TikTok video, a politician cultivating an engaging online personality or a two-hour podcast discussing national issues. 

There are several advantages.

Politainment can make politics accessible to people who might never watch Parliament or read lengthy policy documents. Complex issues such as the cost of living, education, employment and public transport can potentially reach larger audiences when communicated creatively. 

But there is also a danger. 

Social media rewards attention. Algorithms favour content that makes people watch, react, comment and share. A witty remark or confrontation can therefore travel further than a careful explanation of economic policy. 

This raises an important question: Are Malaysians becoming more politically informed, or simply more politically entertained? 

The distinction matters.

A politician can accumulate millions of views, likes and followers, but digital popularity alone does not tell citizens whether a policy works or whether a government decision produces the promised results. 

This is where media literacy becomes crucial. 

Malaysians should be able to enjoy political content while remaining critical of it. Who produced the video? What information has been omitted? Is it evidence, opinion, satire or political promotion? 

Politics does not have to be boring to be meaningful. Humour, personality and storytelling can help citizens engage with important national issues. 

So let’s watch the TikTok videos, listen to the podcasts and enjoy the memes. 

But never neglect the policy, do check the facts and examine the records as in the age of politainment, going viral may win attention. 

Ultimately. governing a country, however, requires considerably more than entertaining an audience.

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

OCTOBER 29 — According to a recent journal paper, the case for Malaysian hydrogen rests on solid fundamentals. The NETR and the Hydrogen Roadmap, both launched in 2023, identify hydrogen as a key decarbonisation lever. The country’s solar resource potential and year-round irradiance supports predictable renewable generation. In the eastern state of Sarawak, hydropower can provide a low-carbon base for electrolysis that most emerging hydrogen regions lack. The recent launch of the Malaysia Clean Hydrogen Project under the Global Clean Hydrogen Programme, executed by UNIDO with NanoMalaysia Berhad, signals that international institutions see enough promise to invest in policy and technical capacity-building over a five-year horizon.

But potential is not production. Malaysia currently generates roughly 0.6 million tonnes of hydrogen annually, mostly “grey” hydrogen derived from steam methane reforming for fertilizer, petrochemical, and electronics manufacturing. The roadmap target of 16 million tonnes by 2030 sits an order of magnitude beyond current output, and no plant currently produces hydrogen specifically for energy applications. This is not a minor gap; it is a chasm.

The economics explain why. Electricity accounts for 60 to 70 per cent of the levelised cost of hydrogen, with electrolysers adding another 20 per cent. In Peninsular Malaysia, renewable capacity remains insufficient for large-scale electrolysis, and grid wheeling charges further erode project economics. Solar contributes just over 1 percent of national electricity generation despite the country’s abundant resource, a utilisation gap that reflects land constraints, grid integration hurdles, and slow deployment. One modelling study found that in Sabah — the state with the best solar resource and land availability — the levelised cost of hydrogen could fall from US$5.81 (RM23.63) to US$2.52 per kilogram with reduced electrolyser costs, but that remains above the threshold for commercial viability without policy support. 

Electricity accounts for 60 to 70 per cent of the levelised cost of hydrogen, with electrolysers adding another 20 per cent. In Peninsular Malaysia, renewable capacity remains insufficient for large-scale electrolysis, and grid wheeling charges further erode project economics. — Pexels.com pic

A separate analysis identified the “investment corridor” for hydrogen projects at costs below US$3.5 per kilogram combined with carbon taxes above US$40 per tone — a zone that current conditions do not yet reach.

Sarawak offers a partial counterpoint. With hydropower as its backbone, the state has moved further than any other Malaysian region: hydrogen refuelling stations, fuel cell buses, and announced production targets of around 10 kilotonnes per year for domestic mobility and pilot exports to Japan and South Korea. But Sarawak is an exception, and its hydropower advantage is not replicable in the peninsula, where most industrial demand and population reside.

The literature points to two underutilised domestic pathways. First, Malaysia generates millions of tonnes oil palm biomass waste annually, which could be converted to hydrogen through gasification or supercritical water gasification. This offers a near-term, waste-to-value route that leverages an existing industry rather than waiting for electrolyser cost curves to fall. Second, seawater electrolysis presents a strategically compelling option for a maritime nation: indirect seawater electrolysis is already technologically mature and would add less than US$0.1 per kilogram to the levelised cost while co-producing potable water. Direct seawater electrolysis remains at lower readiness.

The policy response has been coordination-heavy but market-light. NanoMalaysia has evolved into the government’s de facto hydrogen coordinator, convening an industry alliance to organize a fragmented private sector. The Global Clean Hydrogen Programme will strengthen standards, technical expertise, and investment preparation. Yet industry players describe a sector “pushed into existence rather than pulled forward by organic market demand”. The government’s approach of co-financing “catalytic users” to validate commercial use cases is a reasonable demand-side intervention, but it remains small in scale.

A carbon tax, now delayed, on metals, steel, and energy industries could change the calculus by making green hydrogen more competitive with grey alternatives. The real-options modelling suggests that policy clarity around carbon pricing can trigger capital deployment far earlier than traditional net-present-value analysis would predict. But a carbon tax alone will not build electrolysers or pipelines; it must be paired with cost-side reforms and infrastructure sequencing.

The strategic risk is not that Malaysia fails to become a hydrogen exporter. That ambition may be premature. The real risk is that the country spends a decade building pilot projects and roadmaps while its industrial hydrogen demand — currently met by grey production — continues to lock in carbon-intensive infrastructure that will be expensive to retrofit. The window for converting existing ammonia and petrochemical facilities to green or blue hydrogen is open now, with policy support and international climate finance. Waiting for perfect economics means waiting for competitors to capture the market first.

Malaysia’s hydrogen future will not be won in Putrajaya or Kuching alone. It will be won in Sipitang’s ammonia plants, Bintulu’s industrial clusters, and the palm oil mills of Johor — where hydrogen can become a practical input rather than a policy aspiration. The roadmaps are sound. The research is clear. The missing ingredient is urgency.  

* The author is affiliated with the Tan Sri Omar Centre for STI Policy Studies at UCSI University and is an Adjunct Professor at the Ungku Aziz Centre for Development Studies, Universiti Malaya. He can be reached at ahmadibrahim@ucsiuniversity.edu.my.  

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

OCTOBER 29 — In the case of Dato’ Seri Anwar Bin Ibrahim v Perdana Menteri Malaysia  [2007], the former Deputy Prime Minister (the Plaintiff) sued the Prime Minister and another (the Defendants) by way of an originating summons (OS) for a declaration that they had acted in contravention of the Federal Constitution in dismissing him as Deputy Prime Minister and that he was still a Minister in the Malaysian Cabinet.

The Defendants applied to strike out the Plaintiff’s claim under Order 18 rule 19(1) of the then Rules of High Court 1980 (now Rules of Court 2012).

One of the grounds advanced by the Defendants was the use of an incorrect procedure. It was argued that the Plaintiff’s action should be by way of an application for judicial review under Order 53 rather than by OS.

The High Court allowed the application of the Defendants, striking out the Plaintiff’s action.

Dissatisfied, the Plaintiff appealed to the Court of Appeal. After hearing the parties, the Court dismissed the appeal. Court of Appeal Judge Helilah (as she then was) said:

“This suit raises public law issues as it is a decision and action taken by the Prime Minister in pursuance of the provisions of the Federal Constitution that is being impugned. As such, a decision taken by the Prime Minister with regard to a Minister as a member of the administration in his public duties is one that has implications for the public as a whole, and it is in consequence of this that the public law is concerned with the decision-making process.

According to the author, when an explicit procedure is created, follow it or your action can be struck off. — Picture by Raymond Manuel

“The legal sources of the powers that are being impugned are in the public domain. As such, to institute the proceedings by [OS], though seemingly appearing to be simple in procedure, will deprive the public authority, in this case, the Federal Government and in the circumstances of the present case, of the protection of the law that is entitled to by the process available under Order 53.”

The Court of Appeal’s decision was cited with approval by the Federal Court in the case of Ahmad Jefri Mohd Jahri v. Pengarah Kebudayaan & Kesenian Johor & Ors  [2010] where the apex court made it clear that the procedure to challenge the exercise of statutory powers by public authority has been explicitly provided under Order 53.

The Federal Court said:

“As a general rule, an application for reliefs against public authority … which involves the question of the proper exercise of the statutory powers of the defendants as a public authority, should have proceeded under that rule [that is, Order 53]. The failure of which should stand the suit liable to be struck out.”

The apex court added as follows:

“Aside from mandamus, prohibition, quo warranto, and certiorari, or any others described under [Order 53], an alternative remedy for an aggrieved party seeking relief against a public authority on his infringed right to which he was entitled to protection under public law is for a declaration.

“However, [Order 53] sets out a specific procedure for an aggrieved party seeking relief, including a declaration, against a public authority on his infringed right to which he was entitled to protection under public law to follow.

“It is our view that when such an explicit procedure is created to cater to this purpose, then, as a general rule, all such applications for such relief must commence according to what is set down in [Order 53]; otherwise, it would be liable to be struck off for abusing the process of the court.”

When an explicit procedure is created, follow it or your action can be struck off.

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

OCTOBER 28 — We dream of becoming a technologically advanced nation, attracting investments in artificial intelligence, producing world-class engineers and competing in the global digital economy. Yet an uncomfortable question remains: How can Malaysia become a scientific powerhouse when so many of our children struggle with basic mathematics and science? We cannot keep celebrating technological ambitions while ignoring what is happening inside our classrooms.

The latest Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) 2025 results should trouble us. Malaysia scored 397 in mathematics and 419 in science, both below the OECD averages. More disturbingly, only 35% of Malaysian students reached basic proficiency in mathematics. This means approximately two-thirds struggled to demonstrate the mathematical skills needed to solve everyday problems. Are we preparing our children for tomorrow, or merely helping them survive examinations today?

The Trends in International Mathematics and Science Study (TIMSS) 2023 delivered an equally uncomfortable message. Malaysia scored 411 in mathematics and 426 in science, declining from 461 and 465 respectively in 2019. We cannot continue blaming the pandemic indefinitely. Learning losses require recovery, not excuses. The real test of educational resilience is what we do after discovering our weaknesses.

School students wear face masks at a school in Subang Jaya on August 26, 2026. — Bernama pic

Look at Singapore. Its students consistently perform among the world’s best, but their success is not simply about studying harder. Singapore places strong emphasis on mathematical reasoning, conceptual understanding and problem-solving. Students learn to explain how answers are obtained rather than merely memorising procedures. Malaysia must similarly move beyond repetitive exercises towards meaningful thinking.

Estonia offers another lesson. Its strong international performance demonstrates the value of trusting teachers and giving schools greater responsibility for instructional decisions. Our teachers need professional freedom to experiment, adapt lessons and respond to struggling learners, rather than spending excessive time documenting activities for administrative compliance.

Imagine introducing a nationwide Maths and Science Recovery Hour, where students spend one weekly session tackling practical challenges instead of completing another worksheet. Let them calculate household electricity consumption, investigate polluted rivers, design affordable water filters or compare food prices using mathematical reasoning. Science and mathematics should become tools for understanding Malaysian life, not frightening subjects confined to textbooks.

Schools could also establish Mistake-Friendly Classrooms, where students are rewarded for explaining unsuccessful attempts and improving their solutions. Resilience develops when children discover that being wrong is part of learning. A child who fears making mistakes will eventually fear asking questions. No country becomes innovative by teaching its children to remain silent.

We should also introduce short diagnostic assessments followed by targeted support, especially for pupils who have not mastered foundational numeracy. Universities, industries and local communities could adopt schools by providing mentoring, equipment and authentic scientific projects. Rural and disadvantaged schools deserve particular attention. Educational excellence must not depend on a family’s postcode or income.

However, students themselves must demonstrate determination. They should practise consistently, ask questions without embarrassment, explore scientific problems independently and refuse to accept the label that mathematics is simply too difficult. Parents must encourage curiosity instead of treating examination grades as the only evidence of intelligence.

Ultimately, improving PISA and TIMSS scores should not become another national obsession with rankings. These assessments are warning signals about whether our children can reason, investigate and solve unfamiliar problems. Malaysia does not lack talented children. What we cannot afford is a system that allows their talent to remain undiscovered. The question is no longer whether we can compete with Singapore, Japan or Estonia. It is whether we possess the courage, persistence and imagination to change how our children learn.

Our future engineers, scientists and innovators are sitting in today’s classrooms. Let us stop teaching them merely to answer questions and start preparing them to solve problems the world has yet to encounter.

* Assoc. Prof. Dr. Marini Kasim and Assoc. Prof. Dr. Muhammad Noor Abdul Aziz are with the School of Education, Universiti Utara Malaysia.

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

OCTOBER 28 — In Malaysia’s higher education calendar, the closing months of the year mark two significant seasons: universities welcome new students and celebrate the achievements of their graduates at convocation.

These moments of arrival and departure invite us to look beyond the physical gates and doors of universities and faculties, and reflect on the deeper messages they convey about education and the shared aspirations and responsibilities of the institutions, academics and students within them.

At the main entrance of the Faculty of Law, Universiti Malaya, the words “Enter into the Realm of Excellence”, inscribed above the glass doors, greet academics and students as they enter the faculty.

People are seen in front of the Universiti Malaya logo at its campus in Kuala Lumpur in this file picture dated June 4, 2023. — Picture by Ahmad Zamzahuri

These words are more than a declaration of ambition; they express a shared commitment and expectation of excellence. They call upon academics to embody excellence in their teaching, research and integrity, while challenging students to pursue excellence in their learning, thinking and character.

At other sides of the globe, the inspiring words inscribed on the iconic Eddy Gate at Cornell University reads: “So enter that daily thou mayest become more learned and thoughtful; so depart that daily thou mayest become more useful to thy country and to mankind”.

A similar philosophy is embodied in Harvard University’s Dexter Gate, whose famous inscriptions connect learning with service. The entrance inscription reads: “Enter to grow in wisdom”, while the words on the opposite side offer a charge to departing students: “Depart to serve better thy country and thy kind”.

Echoing such a dual mandate is the Alumni Gateway of Ohio University. It welcomes all who enter the campus with the words “So enter that daily thou mayest grow in knowledge, wisdom and love”; while the inscription for those who leave the campus reads: “So depart that daily thou mayest better serve thy fellowmen thy country and thy God”.

The entrance messages at these universities’ gates reflect the expectation of a holistic growth of the incoming students in terms of knowledge, critical thinking, wisdom and love.

Academic excellence extends beyond intellectual achievement to encompass moral character and the responsible application of knowledge.

The tripartite framework of head, hand and heart is embedded in Malaysia’s National Education Philosophy, Malaysian Qualifications Framework 2nd Edition (MQF 2.0) and Malaysia Higher Education Blueprint 2026-2035 (the Education Blueprint).

The National Education Philosophy provides the foundational framework for holistic human development, integrating the intellectual (Head), physical (Hand), spiritual and emotional (Heart) dimensions to nurture balanced citizens.

The MQF 2.0 gives practical expression to this philosophical vision through its five Clusters of Learning Outcomes, which can be conceptually aligned with the Head, Hand and Heart dimensions. Clusters 1 and 2 (Knowledge and Understanding and Cognitive Skills) correspond to the Head; Cluster 3 (Functional Work Skills) to the Hand; and Clusters 4 and 5 (Personal and Entrepreneurial Skills, Ethics and Professionalism), complemented by Values-Based Education (VBE), to the Heart.

The Education Blueprint builds on this framework by promoting balanced knowledge, skills and ethical values through three complementary skill sets: Sharp Skills (digital fluency and technological competence), Smart Skills (critical thinking, collaboration and systems thinking), and Soft Skills (interpersonal, ethical and adaptive capabilities).

These skills can be conceptually aligned with the Head, Hand and Heart dimensions to nurture well-rounded graduates equipped to contribute meaningfully to society.

Therefore, entering the “Realm of Excellence” is not merely about achieving a top CGPA or earning an academic degree. It is an invitation to cultivate character, embrace adaptability and pursue both intellectual and moral development.

The three exit inscriptions on the Eddy Gate, Dexter Gate and Alumni Gateway frame graduation as a solemn commission to turn the acquired knowledge and skills to services that benefit the country and society.

When convocation season arrives towards the end of the year, the inscription “Enter into the Realm of Excellence” at the Faculty of Law, Universiti Malaya, takes on a deeper meaning, revealing its unspoken second half.

Leaving the “Realm of Excellence” means putting the knowledge and skills acquired to meaningful use through public service, advancing societal progress, contributing to nation-building and promoting sustainability in an ever-changing global landscape.

Inscriptions on university and faculty gates remind us that these gates are more than physical structures.

They are symbolic thresholds that embody the shared values, aspirations and responsibilities, shaping the university experience for both academics and students. The duality of inscription sends a timeless message.

New students enter and begin their journey of seeking wisdom and building character, while graduating individuals depart with the mission to serve the wider community as nation builders, and contribute to an advanced and sustainable future.

* Dr Kuek Chee Ying is a Senior Lecturer at the Faculty of Law, Universiti Malaya, and can be reached at cykuek@um.edu.my

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

OCT 27 — There are mornings when the alarm goes off and, even before we get out of bed, we are already thinking about the things waiting for us. Emails that need answering, meetings to attend, groceries to buy, bills to settle, and perhaps a few things we promised to do yesterday but somehow never got around to completing. We occasionally complain about having too much on our plate, imagining how wonderful life would be if, just for once, there was absolutely nothing demanding our attention.

And yet, when such a day finally arrives, we sometimes find ourselves wondering what to do with it.

It is a curious contradiction of adult life. We spend so much time wishing for fewer responsibilities, only to discover that some of those responsibilities have quietly become part of what gives our days their shape. Without them, the hours can feel strangely unfamiliar.

This does not mean we secretly enjoy being overwhelmed, or that everyone needs a packed schedule to be happy. Perhaps it simply suggests that having something to do matters to us more than we ordinarily realise.

I have been thinking about this lately, particularly about the relationship between what we do and what we understand to be our purpose in life. We often speak of purpose as though it were something waiting to be discovered, a particular calling that will eventually reveal itself if we search long and hard enough. Once we have found it, we imagine, everything else will somehow fall into place.

But I wonder whether it sometimes works the other way around.

Consider someone who begins tending a small garden simply because the space outside the house looks neglected. At first, there is nothing particularly profound about pulling weeds, watering plants or learning which ones need more sunlight. Over time, however, the routine becomes familiar. The person begins noticing small changes, anticipating what needs attention and taking pleasure in seeing something grow. What began as a household chore may gradually become something they look forward to doing.

The same could be said of preparing breakfast for the family, volunteering in a neighbourhood activity or learning a new skill simply out of curiosity. None of these necessarily begins with a grand ambition. Sometimes we start because something needs doing, or because we happen to have the time. Only through doing it repeatedly do we begin to understand why it matters to us.

There is a Japanese concept called ikigai, often understood as a reason for living or something that makes life worth getting up for. Popular interpretations sometimes present it as an elaborate intersection of passion, talent, profession and what the world needs. But I find the simpler understanding more interesting, particularly the possibility that meaning can be found in familiar activities that may appear unremarkable to everyone else.

Perhaps the distinction worth making is between being busy and being occupied in a way that matters to us. Busyness can sometimes become an excuse to avoid difficult questions, or a habit that leaves us exhausted without feeling particularly fulfilled. — File picture by Firdaus Latif

Of course, the Japanese are hardly alone in recognising this. Across cultures, people have long found satisfaction in caring for families, maintaining friendships, practising crafts and participating in their communities. Much of what makes a life meaningful happens without anyone giving it a special name.

Perhaps the distinction worth making is between being busy and being occupied in a way that matters to us. Busyness can sometimes become an excuse to avoid difficult questions, or a habit that leaves us exhausted without feeling particularly fulfilled. Being meaningfully occupied, on the other hand, need not involve earning money, achieving recognition or producing something that can be measured. Even rest can be meaningful when we allow ourselves to enjoy it without feeling guilty about the things we are not doing.

Nor should we measure a person’s worth by how much they can accomplish. There are seasons of life when illness, age or circumstances limit what we are able to do. A quiet conversation, listening to someone else’s story or simply enjoying the afternoon can still hold considerable meaning. Our ability to remain productive is not the price we pay for deserving a place in the world.

What interests me most, however, is something slightly different. It is the moment when we become conscious of what we are doing, rather than simply moving from one activity to another. A routine that once felt like an obligation can begin to look different when we recognise the people it connects us to, the opportunities it gives us or the small satisfaction of doing something well.

Perhaps this awareness comes more readily with age. We begin to appreciate that even familiar routines are not guaranteed to remain available to us forever. The ability to learn something new, help someone with a problem or spend an ordinary morning doing something we enjoy becomes less easily taken for granted.

I suppose that is why I have come to think that one of the nicest things adulthood can offer is simply having something to do. Not because every hour must be filled, or because our lives need to amount to something impressive, but because an ordinary activity can become a way of participating in the world around us.

We may not always know where that participation will lead, and perhaps we do not need to. Sometimes it is enough to begin with something that interests us, give it our attention and allow its meaning to emerge in its own time.

And on the mornings when there is something waiting for us to do, perhaps there is also something to be grateful for.

*The author is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, Universiti Malaya, who is currently pursuing an MA in Publishing Studies at the same university. He may be reached at nahrizuladib@um.edu.my.

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

OCT 27 — Malaysia’s farming sector faces a generational challenge. As many experienced farmers grow older, attracting younger Malaysians into agriculture remains a concern. Yet, the issue may not simply be that young people are unwilling to work on farms. It may also reflect the income uncertainty, rising production costs and limited career opportunities associated with traditional farming.

The announcement of three strategic Technical and Vocational Education and Training (TVET) initiatives by the Ministry of Rural and Regional Development (KKDW) on October 25 offers an opportunity to look at this challenge differently.

The TVET Premium Career Agreement, TVET Jana Desa, and Smart and Green TVET@KKDW Workshops seek to strengthen employment opportunities, support technical entrepreneurship and introduce technology-driven solutions to rural businesses.

These initiatives raise an important question. Rather than focusing only on encouraging more young Malaysians to become farmers, could TVET create new careers and businesses within the wider farming economy?

After all, a young person does not necessarily need to cultivate paddy to contribute to agriculture. They could maintain harvesting machinery, repair irrigation pumps, operate agricultural equipment or develop technical services that help farmers improve productivity.

The distinction matters because the future of agriculture depends not only on who works in the fields, but also on the skilled workers and enterprises supporting farming activities.

Why young people are staying away from farming

The ageing farming population has raised growing concerns about the future of Malaysia’s agricultural sector, particularly the sustainability of paddy cultivation. In May 2026, the Malaysian Paddy Farmers Brotherhood Organization estimated that fewer than five per cent of paddy farmers were aged between 15 and 30, highlighting the challenge of attracting younger generations to the industry.

Although this estimate should not be treated as a comprehensive national census, it reflects concerns about the limited participation of younger generations in paddy cultivation.

The challenge extends beyond perceptions of farming as physically demanding work.

For paddy farmers, income depends on several factors, including production costs, planting conditions, access to agricultural inputs and the returns received after harvesting.

A farmer may work throughout a planting season without knowing precisely how much income will remain after expenses.

Concerns about fertiliser delivery delays in Kedah earlier this year further illustrate how agricultural livelihoods depend on timely access to essential inputs. When supplies are delayed, farmers may face difficulties managing planting schedules and costs.

For younger Malaysians considering their career options, such uncertainties matter.

From a behavioural economics perspective, career decisions are influenced not only by expected income, but also by perceived risks, financial security and opportunities for future advancement.

A young person who has watched their parents manage the uncertainties of paddy farming may be reluctant to enter the same occupation, particularly when other jobs appear to offer more predictable earnings.

This does not necessarily mean that younger generations have lost interest in agriculture. It may indicate that the economic opportunities available within the sector need to evolve.

TVET Jana Desa and the opportunity beyond farming

The newly announced TVET Jana Desa initiative is particularly relevant to this challenge.

Its focus on helping graduates establish technical enterprises within their own districts could create opportunities connected to existing rural economic activities.

For paddy-growing areas such as Perlis and Kedah, this approach could extend beyond encouraging young people to become farmers themselves.

Paddy cultivation requires machinery, irrigation facilities, maintenance services and increasingly specialised technical knowledge.

Consider a TVET graduate trained in mechanical maintenance.

Instead of seeking employment only in an urban industrial area, the graduate could potentially establish a small enterprise servicing agricultural machinery used by farmers in nearby villages.

Another graduate with electrical or automation skills might provide maintenance services for irrigation pumps or other agricultural equipment.

These examples illustrate potential applications of TVET Jana Desa rather than businesses already established under the new initiative.

Such enterprises could generate income for young people while providing practical support to existing farmers.

This creates a different form of generational participation in agriculture.

A farmer’s child may not wish to cultivate the family’s paddy field, but could still contribute to the farming economy through technical services or entrepreneurship.

However, starting a business requires more than technical competency.

Graduates need access to equipment, working capital, customers and reliable demand.

Without these conditions, even well-trained individuals may struggle to sustain their enterprises.

The involvement of farmers’ organisations, cooperatives and agricultural agencies could therefore be important in connecting young entrepreneurs with potential customers.

For example, groups of farmers could explore shared arrangements for machinery maintenance, allowing them to access technical services while helping young enterprises develop a more stable customer base.

Such models would need to reflect local demand and farmers’ ability to pay.

The objective should not merely be to increase the number of businesses established, but to develop enterprises capable of generating sustainable income.

Linking skills to real employment opportunities

The TVET Premium Career Agreement provides another important dimension.

Under the initiative, employers are expected to participate in determining competencies, placement requirements and salary packages for selected training programmes before trainees are recruited.

This approach recognises that training is more valuable when the skills developed match actual employment needs.

For the farming economy, similar partnerships could involve agricultural machinery companies, engineering service providers, food-processing businesses and other enterprises connected to rural production.

Graduates could acquire competencies that are relevant to employers while gaining clearer information about possible

The success of TVET Jana Desa, for instance, could be evaluated by examining business survival, income growth and the number of sustainable jobs created. — Bernama pic

career pathways.

However, the location of employment also matters.

A graduate may obtain a higher-paying job in a major industrial centre, but relocating can involve additional expenses for housing, transport and daily living.

For some young people, working closer to home may offer advantages if suitable employment and competitive earnings are available.

This does not mean that rural youth should be discouraged from moving to cities. Migration can provide valuable experience and improve economic mobility.

Rather, the challenge is to ensure that leaving home is a choice rather than the only practical route towards career advancement.

Developing employment opportunities linked to rural industries could help expand those choices.

Technology must solve farmers’ real problems

The third initiative, Smart and Green TVET@KKDW Workshops, could complement these efforts by encouraging technical solutions involving automation, artificial intelligence, machinery monitoring and energy efficiency.

In agriculture, technology has the potential to improve efficiency and reduce dependence on certain labour-intensive activities.

For example, monitoring equipment could help identify problems in irrigation systems, while improved maintenance practices could reduce machinery downtime.

However, technology should not be introduced simply because it is new.

For small-scale farmers, affordability remains a major consideration.

An advanced system may promise better efficiency, but farmers must still assess its purchase price, maintenance requirements and potential financial returns.

A technology that costs more than the savings it generates may offer little practical benefit to a farmer already facing narrow profit margins.

This is where TVET graduates could play a useful role.

Rather than concentrating only on sophisticated innovations, technical training could encourage solutions that respond to everyday problems faced by farmers.

Affordable equipment maintenance, practical irrigation monitoring and accessible repair services may provide immediate economic value.

The three TVET initiatives could therefore complement one another.

The Premium Career Agreement can strengthen the connection between skills and industry needs. TVET Jana Desa can support technical enterprises within rural communities, while Smart and Green Workshops can encourage solutions that improve productivity and efficiency.

Together, they could help create a more supportive environment for younger generations to participate in the farming economy.

From training graduates to building rural businesses

Nevertheless, TVET cannot address every challenge facing paddy farmers.

Issues involving fertiliser distribution, agricultural prices, irrigation infrastructure and farm profitability require broader agricultural policies and effective implementation.

Skills development should complement these measures rather than replace them.

The more important question is how training institutions, agricultural agencies and local industries can work together to identify opportunities that are economically viable.

For example, technical training providers could engage farmers’ organisations to understand which machinery services are frequently needed, where maintenance support is limited and what farmers can reasonably afford.

This information could help institutions design training and entrepreneurship programmes that respond to actual market demand.

Graduates interested in establishing businesses could then receive guidance on financial planning, customer development and managing operating costs.

Such support is particularly important because technical expertise and business management are different competencies.

A graduate may know how to repair machinery but still require assistance in pricing services, managing cash flow and maintaining customer relationships.

From a human capital perspective, the value of training is realised when acquired skills can be applied productively and generate economic returns.

For rural communities, those returns could extend beyond individual graduates.

A viable technical enterprise may support farmers, purchase supplies from local businesses and eventually create additional employment.

However, these benefits should be assessed through actual outcomes rather than assumed from the number of training participants.

The success of TVET Jana Desa, for instance, could be evaluated by examining business survival, income growth and the number of sustainable jobs created.

For the Premium Career Agreement, graduate earnings, employment stability and career progression would be useful measures.

For Smart and Green Workshops, practical improvements in productivity, operating costs and technology affordability would provide meaningful indicators.

Such evaluations could help determine whether the initiatives are contributing to lasting economic development.

A new generation, a different role in agriculture

Malaysia’s ageing farming population presents an important challenge, but the response need not focus exclusively on persuading younger people to follow the same occupations as previous generations.

Agriculture is supported by a wider economic network involving machinery, maintenance, technology, logistics and business services.

These activities can provide alternative ways for young Malaysians to participate in the sector.

For a young person growing up in a paddy-growing community, success should not necessarily require choosing between becoming a traditional farmer and leaving the village altogether.

There could be a third possibility: developing a skilled career or business that supports the agricultural economy while remaining connected to the local community.

The three newly announced TVET initiatives provide an opportunity to explore this possibility.

Their long-term contribution will depend on whether training, employment partnerships, entrepreneurship support and technology development can be connected to the needs of rural industries.

Ultimately, attracting a new generation into Malaysia’s farming economy is not only about changing attitudes towards agriculture. It is also about creating opportunities that offer reasonable incomes, manageable risks and prospects for growth.

The next generation may not all become farmers. But with the right skills and opportunities, they could help determine how farming survives, modernises and grows.

That may be one of the most meaningful contributions TVET can make to Malaysia’s rural future.

*Dr Nuraini Abdullah is a Senior Lecturer at the Faculty of Business & Communication, Universiti Malaysia Perlis (UniMAP).

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

OCT 27 — The world has spent more than 40 years learning what works in the AIDS response. For the Pacific, with its long tradition of collective action in tackling shared challenges, those hard-won lessons could help prevent today’s growing HIV epidemics from becoming a much larger crisis.

The recent surge of international attention to Fiji’s HIV epidemic has carried uncomfortable echoes of an earlier era of AIDS.

A rapid rise in new infections. A national crisis declaration. Stories of people struggling to access services or staying away because of pervasive stigma. Health systems racing to catch up with an epidemic moving faster than the response. Once again, HIV has made international headlines with an urgency many had hoped belonged to the past.

But there is one fundamental difference. This is 2026.

Today, we have effective treatment, powerful new prevention tools and decades of experience that did not exist at the start of the AIDS epidemic. The Pacific cannot afford to lose time or repeat past mistakes.

The need to act is urgent: Fiji has seen one of the fastest-growing HIV epidemics globally, with new infections rising approximately twelvefold between 2010 and 2025. But Fiji is not the only warning sign. Papua New Guinea remains the largest HIV epidemic in the region, with an estimated 110,000 people living with HIV. HIV diagnoses have also risen recently in Palau, Solomon Islands and Vanuatu. Across the Pacific, new infections increased by an estimated 65 per cent between 2010 and 2025, while they declined across Asia and the Pacific overall.

In countries with small populations, even relatively few new infections can signal a major shift in the epidemic. Waiting until the numbers become alarming means losing valuable time to prevent further transmission.

Today, we have effective treatment, powerful new prevention tools and decades of experience that did not exist at the start of the AIDS epidemic. The Pacific cannot afford to lose time or repeat past mistakes. — AFP file pic

First, HIV is everyone’s concern

In 1989, American artist and activist Keith Haring painted a mural: Todos juntos podemos parar el sida—Together We Can Stop AIDS. More than a slogan, it captured the spirit of a movement that brought together people who had rarely worked side by side: doctors and politicians, activists and scientists, faith leaders and teachers, police and community advocates, celebrities and people living with HIV.

That mobilisation required heads of state to speak publicly about AIDS, parliaments to change laws that fuelled stigma or blocked access to services, and societies to confront deep-seated prejudice. The early AIDS response showed how fear and misinformation can contribute to discrimination—a lesson worth bearing in mind when measures such as mandatory testing or restrictive border controls are considered. It also demanded action across sectors: from health and education to law enforcement and justice, alongside broader efforts to advance human rights, gender equality and development.

Fiji’s declaration of a national HIV crisis is an important political step. It recognises that the health sector cannot tackle the epidemic alone.

Across the Pacific, addressing discriminatory laws, stigma and other barriers to prevention and treatment requires the kind of political leadership and collective action that shaped the global AIDS response.

Second, let communities lead

The AIDS response was transformed by the communities most affected by HIV. They challenged stigma, fought for access to treatment and helped shape services around people’s needs.

Even today, despite advances in treatment and prevention, stigma and discrimination still keep many people away from HIV services. Fear of judgement or unwanted disclosure can determine whether someone seeks testing or treatment at all.

Community organisations and peer outreach workers help bridge that gap by building trust and reaching people who might otherwise remain outside the health system. This is especially important in the Pacific, where small island communities and remote settings can make privacy harder to protect and confidentiality all the more important.

As Pacific countries move towards greater national ownership and sustainable financing, community-led services need to become an integral part of national HIV plans and budgets, rather than remain dependent on short-term donor-funded projects. With external funding under pressure, this transition must not come at the cost of prevention, or of the independence and trust that make these services effective.

Third, close the gap between progress and access

Medical science has transformed what is possible. Antiretroviral treatment now enables people living with HIV to lead long, healthy lives.

When people take effective antiretroviral treatment and achieve and maintain an undetectable viral load, they do not transmit HIV sexually—the principle known as U=U, or Undetectable = Untransmittable.

Yet treatment coverage remains alarmingly low in parts of the Pacific. In Fiji, only about a quarter of the total estimated people living with HIV accessed treatment, and in Papua New Guinea, only about half.

Effective treatment during pregnancy and breastfeeding can protect women’s health and prevent HIV transmission to their babies. In Papua New Guinea, however, only about one in four pregnant women living with HIV receive antiretroviral treatment, and an estimated 2,700 infants acquired HIV in 2024—a stark reminder of the distance that can remain between what medicine makes possible and what reaches families in time. That is why HIV testing and treatment need to be readily accessible through routine antenatal, maternal and child health services, including in remote communities.

Prevention has entered a new era too. In countries where injecting drug use is one of the risks driving increasing HIV cases, needle and syringe programmes play a critical role in preventing needle sharing—something that poses very high risks for HIV spread. These programmes don’t just protect people who inject drugs; they also protect their loved ones, and the broader community.

Alongside proven approaches such as condoms, harm reduction and oral pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), twice-yearly injectable lenacapavir offers an important new option, particularly for people who find taking a daily pill difficult.

Prevention is increasingly about choice: matching proven options to people’s needs and lives. In Fiji, where HIV infections linked to injecting drug use are increasing, recent legal changes have made it possible to introduce a needle and syringe programme—showing how prevention can adapt as the epidemic changes.

But none of these advances can prevent infections or save lives if people cannot access them. New prevention and treatment options need to reach Pacific countries sooner, at prices they can afford.

Access is about more than medicines. Many Pacific nations already face shortages of health workers, limited resources and the high costs of delivering care across remote islands. Climate change adds to these pressures, as extreme weather threatens health facilities and disrupts essential services.

As countries expand their HIV responses, prevention, testing and treatment can be integrated into primary health care and other essential services rather than built as costly parallel systems. This can make care easier to access, use scarce resources more effectively and strengthen health systems for the future, while preserving the specialised and community-led services that people trust.

Services also need to reach people who are often missed, including people in prisons, and ensure continuity of prevention, treatment and care when they return to the community.

For smaller Pacific countries, greater national ownership cannot mean going it alone. Sustained international financing will still be needed alongside growing domestic investment. Regional cooperation can help those resources go further—through pooled procurement, stronger supply chains and shared expertise. Not every country needs to build every service or specialist capability from scratch.

Pacific institutions such as the Pacific Community (SPC), working alongside the UN Joint Programme on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS)—including UNDP, UNFPA, UNODC and WHO—can help countries put these shared solutions into practice, bringing governments, communities and development partners together around national priorities.

An opportunity the Pacific cannot afford to miss

Only four years remain until 2030, the target year set by UN Member States for ending AIDS as a public health threat. The UN Political Declaration on HIV/AIDS, adopted in June 2026, renewed commitments to prevention and treatment, human rights, community leadership and sustainable financing.

The Pacific has the knowledge, the tools and a strong history of collective action. What happens next will shape the region’s HIV epidemics for years to come.

Fiji’s experience is a warning for the entire region. But it can also become a turning point.

* Eamonn Murphy is UNAIDS Regional Director for Asia and the Pacific and Eastern Europe and Central Asia; Dr Saia Ma’u Piukala is WHO Regional Director for the Western Pacific; Pio Smith is UNFPA Regional Director for Asia and the Pacific; Beate Trankmann is UNDP Deputy Regional Director for Asia and the Pacific and Director of the Bangkok Regional Hub; and Delphine Schantz is UNODC Regional Representative for Southeast Asia and the Pacific.

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

OCT 27 — When a child is born, a family’s life changes overnight. This is a crucial time for parents to bond with their child, settle into new roles, and share the responsibility of care. Mothers also need time to recover from childbirth, while fathers play an important role in supporting her recovery, and managing the household.

Consistent care during this crucial window of a child’s life is paramount. Yet for many working families, this is also when difficult decisions and trade-offs begin: who can afford to remain out of work to provide care, and for how long?

Family-friendly labour policies can help make it possible for both parents to take time to care without having to choose between caregiving and financial security. On International Day of Care and Support, fathers should be included as beneficiaries of the Elaun Pasca Cuti Bersalin or Extended Paid Childbirth Benefit (EPCB), allowing fathers greater opportunity to be present and share caregiving responsibilities from the start.

EPCB – Recognition of childbirth as shared social responsibility

The EPCB, announced by Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim on Labour Day, is an important step in supporting families. Building on the existing employer-financed 98 days of paid maternity leave under the Employment Act 1955, the EPCB would allow insured working mothers under Perkeso to take up an additional month of maternity leave at 80 per cent of their salary, financed through the Employment Insurance System (EIS).

This is a significant step towards supporting formally-employed mothers in Malaysia as the country grapples with a persistent labour market challenge: women disproportionately exiting the workforce during childbirth and not returning. In fact, in 2025, of the 3 million Malaysians outside the labour force because of ‘household responsibilities’, 97 per cent of them were women. As such, supporting women at this stage is crucial, especially with Malaysia’s women’s labour force participation lagging behind regional peers at 56 per cent.

But the EPCB is more than just a maternity benefit. At its core, it is a recognition of the fact that childbirth and care in the early years are not private responsibilities borne by women alone. These are shared social responsibilities that require income protection and support.

For working mothers covered under Perkeso, our estimates suggest the average beneficiary could receive between RM2,200 and RM2,400 during the extended leave period. By international standards, this represents a relatively generous level of support which would ease some of the immediate costs associated with childbirth and early childcare, while supporting breastfeeding, parent-child bonding, recovery and consistent caregiving. When well-designed, such maternity benefits could strengthen job attachment and support Malaysia’s ambition to raise women’s participation to 60 per cent by 2030.

Consistent care during this crucial window of a child’s life is paramount. Yet for many working families, this is also when difficult decisions and trade-offs begin: who can afford to remain out of work to provide care, and for how long? — Picture from pexels.com

Including fathers

The International Day of Care and Support is also an opportunity to ask: do our policies redistribute care more equitably within families and help reduce the gender gap? At present, fathers insured under Perkeso remain ineligible. By targeting women only, mothers are implicitly treated as the sole or ‘default caregiver’, which can unintentionally reinforce the notion that care is “women’s work”.

This notion is one reason the “child penalty” persists: after childbirth, women often experience declines in wages, labour force participation and career progression relative to men, which is a near-universal labour market phenomenon. Longer maternity leave can support mothers and infants. However, if it is not offset with leave for fathers, it may deepen perceptions that women are more “costly” to hire or promote.

The inclusion of fathers in the EPCB would help shift this norm. Evidence indicates that paid paternity leave can strengthen father-child bonding, increase men’s participation in unpaid care work and reduce the effects of the child penalty for women. Regional peers such as Korea, Japan and Vietnam have already taken similar steps to expand fathers’ entitlement to care leave.

Recognising potential fiscal and legal constraints, Perkeso could consider a phased approach to include fathers under the EPCB. A practical and immediate starting point at no additional cost would be to introduce flexibility for families to share the extended benefit between mothers and fathers. This design tweak would recognise the diversity of caregiving arrangements and support equitable division of care responsibilities.

Over time, this could normalise fathers taking leave, reduce hiring bias against women and make childcare an entitlement for both parents, rather than an accommodation for mothers alone.

Extending paternity leave to 14 days

As a second step, Perkeso could also explore a seven-day paternity leave extension under EIS financing, allowing fathers an additional week of paid leave on top of the seven days provided under the Employment Act. This would effectively move Malaysia’s paternity leave to 14 days, aligning it with international benchmarks.

Based on our estimation using Perkeso data, the seven-day paternity leave extension would represent a modest fiscal commitment, ranging between RM70 million and RM90 million, or about 7 per cent of annual EIS contributions.

In fact, for a relatively low additional cost, father-inclusive leave would send a powerful signal: care is a shared responsibility, and labour protections are essential in enabling both parents to perform their duties.

Making care possible for every family

Over the longer term, the EPCB could be integrated into a broader family-friendly policy package, alongside adequate parental leave, breastfeeding facilities and breaks, flexible work arrangements, childcare support and adequate wages, on top of other basic labour protections.

Complementary services can help improve the efficacy of such measures. Using the existing employment services structure, Perkeso can link EPCB beneficiaries to antenatal and postnatal care, breastfeeding consultations, parenting support, immunisation reminders and family mental health services, especially through existing Ministry of Health systems.

So far, care economy discussions have largely focused on expanding care services and investing in the infrastructure needed to deliver them. But parents remain primary caregivers, and they too need time, resources and job security to provide care. Family-friendly labour policies may be less visible than care services, but they are an equally essential pillar of a viable care economy.

Malaysia’s introduction of the EPCB is a timely and commendable step forward. To maximise its impact, the reform should evolve to include fathers, strengthen family-friendly workplace protections, and connect families to complementary support. On International Day of Care and Support, this is the broader message Malaysia can champion: care must be shared at home, at work and across society.

*Lee Min Hui, Farqani Mohd Noor and Juanita Vasquez Escallon are social policy specialists and Chief of Social Policy, respectively, at Unicef Malaysia.

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

OCTOBER 26 — The political fortunes of Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, popularly known as Lula, have implications far beyond Brazil.

His continued leadership,  through a victorious re-election, would offer Brazil another opportunity to deepen its engagement with Malaysia, Asean and the wider Global South. Brazil is after all a sectoral partner of Asean.

Brazil and Malaysia are geographically distant but strategically closer than conventional diplomacy might suggest. The forest in the Amazon and Borneo respectively needs fine stewardship.

Both are important emerging economies, members of the Global South, and countries that have consistently sought greater autonomy in a world dominated by competing major powers.

More importantly, both countries understand that the international order is undergoing profound structural changes.

The United States remains powerful, China continues to expand its economic and technological influence, and the traditional institutions of global governance are struggling to accommodate the aspirations of developing nations.

Against this background, another Lula presidency could reinforce the convergence between Brasília and Kuala Lumpur.

Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim with Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva gesture after a press conference following their bilateral meeting at Seri Perdana Complex in Putrajaya October 25, 2025. — Bernama pic

First, Lula has long represented a political tradition that places economic development, social inclusion and strategic autonomy at the centre of Brazilian foreign policy.

His political philosophy is not identical to that of Malaysian Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim.

Yet both leaders recognise that economic growth cannot be sustained without social legitimacy, institutional stability and a reasonable distribution of national prosperity.

Both also understand that developing countries cannot afford to become permanent extensions of the geopolitical preferences of Washington or Beijing.

Brazil’s strategic autonomy is rooted in Latin America’s historical experience. Malaysia’s is anchored in ASEAN’s commitment to regional centrality, diplomatic flexibility and open regionalism.

These different historical trajectories nevertheless produce an important convergence: neither country wishes to be trapped in a rigid international bloc.

Second, Brazil’s engagement with Malaysia should move beyond the familiar confines of commodity trade.

Brazil is a major agricultural producer, with considerable strengths in soybeans, beef, poultry, biofuels and agricultural technology.

Malaysia possesses substantial expertise in palm oil, Islamic finance, halal certification, electronics and semiconductor-related manufacturing.

There is considerable scope for cooperation between these complementary economic structures.

Malaysia’s halal industry, for example, could provide Brazil with opportunities to strengthen its access to Muslim consumer markets across Southeast Asia, West Asia and Africa.

Conversely, Brazil’s agricultural productivity and technological capabilities could contribute to Malaysia’s food security and agricultural modernisation.

Such cooperation would be especially valuable when global supply chains remain vulnerable to geopolitical disruptions, maritime insecurity and fluctuations in energy prices.

Third, Malaysia and Brazil should recognise the strategic significance of BRICS.

Brazil is a founding member of BRICS, while Malaysia has pursued closer engagement with the grouping through its partner-country status.

This creates an important diplomatic opening.

Malaysia need not regard BRICS as an alternative to Asean. Nor should Brazil view Southeast Asia merely as another destination for its exports.

Instead, both countries can explore how BRICS and Asean might complement one another in advancing financial cooperation, infrastructure development, technological exchanges and reforms of international institutions.

Lula has consistently argued for a more representative international economic order.

Anwar has similarly advocated a more equitable global architecture that gives developing countries a stronger voice.

Their convergence should be translated into practical cooperation rather than confined to diplomatic declarations.

Fourth, the relationship between Brazil and Malaysia can become an important bridge between Latin America and Southeast Asia.

These two regions have traditionally maintained stronger economic relationships with the United States, China and Europe than with one another.

Such patterns are increasingly outdated.

Brazil is the largest economy in Latin America, while Asean collectively represents one of the world’s most dynamic economic regions.

Malaysia, positioned at the intersection of the Indian and Pacific Oceans, can serve as a useful gateway for Brazilian companies seeking greater engagement with Southeast Asia.

Brazil, in turn, can help Malaysian enterprises understand the opportunities and complexities of Latin American markets.

The objective should not merely be to increase bilateral trade figures.

It should be to create sustained institutional relationships between universities, research centres, chambers of commerce and strategic policy communities.

Fifth, technological cooperation deserves greater attention.

Brazil has developed important capabilities in aerospace engineering, agricultural research, renewable energy and industrial technology.

Malaysia is seeking to strengthen its position in artificial intelligence, digital infrastructure, advanced manufacturing and semiconductor supply chains.

There is no reason why these respective strengths cannot become the foundation of a more ambitious bilateral technological partnership.

Indeed, both countries must confront the dangers of technological dependency.

The rapid concentration of artificial intelligence capabilities in a small number of American and Chinese corporations raises fundamental questions about data sovereignty, economic autonomy and the future of employment.

Brazil and Malaysia have a shared interest in preventing the emergence of a new form of digital colonialism in which developing countries become consumers of technologies they neither control nor meaningfully regulate.

Sixth, environmental cooperation should become another strategic pillar.

Brazil possesses the Amazon rainforest, while Malaysia is home to some of the world’s most important tropical ecosystems.

Both countries face international pressure over deforestation, biodiversity protection and the environmental consequences of agricultural expansion.

Yet both must also defend the legitimate developmental aspirations of their populations.

Rather than accepting environmental standards formulated without sufficient consideration of developing-country realities, Brazil and Malaysia should cooperate in promoting sustainable development based on scientific evidence, equitable financing and technological assistance.

This is particularly important when environmental regulations risk becoming instruments of disguised protectionism.

Seventh, both countries have an interest in preserving diplomatic space amid escalating global conflicts.

From the continuing instability in West Asia to the strategic rivalry between the United States and China, the international

* Phar Kim Beng, PhD, is Professor of Asean Studies at the International Islamic University of Malaysia and Director of the Institute of International and Asean Studies (IINTAS).

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

OCTOBER 26 — Eight months ago, I shared the Australian experience of conflict between federal and state when both authorities or governments passed legislation on the same subject.

Australia is a federation of six states.

The Australian Constitution establishes a federal system of government in which legislative powers are distributed between the federal parliament/governments and the six state parliaments/governments.

Section 109 of the Australian Constitution provides that “when a law of a State is inconsistent with a law [passed by the federal parliament], the latter shall prevail, and the former shall, to the extent of the inconsistency, be invalid.”

Canada too has seen similar conflicts.

Canada is also a federation with one federal government, three territorial governments and ten provincial governments sharing lawmaking responsibilities.

All levels of government derive their authority from the Constitution of Canada – not unlike in Malaysia.

Sections 91 and 92 of the Canadian Constitution distribute powers between the federal and provincial governments, with each government having jurisdiction to make laws over certain subjects or areas.

Section 91 of the Canadian Constitution lists thirty areas within federal jurisdiction – not unlike Article 74(1) of the Federal Constitution which enumerates in the Federal List in the Ninth Schedule matters in respect of which the federal government may make law.

Canada’s federal list includes regulation of trade and commerce, criminal law, and a general power to make laws in all matters not assigned to the provinces.

Section 92 of the Canadian Constitution lists fifteen areas within provincial jurisdiction – again, not unlike Article 74(2) of the Federal Constitution which enumerates in the State List in the Ninth Schedule matters in respect of which the state government may make law.

Examples from Canada’s provincial list are property and civil rights in the province, local works and undertakings, and all matters of a merely local or private nature in the province.

A screen capture shows the Federal Constitution in both English and Malay displayed on the website of the Attorney General’s Chambers.

In the same year Malaysia was ‘born’, noted Canadian constitutional scholar and the first dean of the Faculty of Law of Queen’s University, William R. Lederman wrote:

“[The] federal and provincial categories of power are expressed, and indeed have to be expressed, in quite general terms. This permits considerable flexibility in constitutional interpretation, but also it brings much overlapping and potential conflict between the various definitions of powers and responsibilities.

“To put the same point in another way, our community life – social, economic, political, and cultural – is very complex and will not fit neatly into any scheme of categories or classes without considerable overlap and ambiguity occurring. There are inevitable difficulties arising from this that we must live with so long as we have a federal constitution.

“Accordingly, the courts must continually assess the competing federal and provincial lists of powers against one another in the judicial task of interpreting the constitution. In the course of judicial decisions on the [Canadian Constitution], the judges have basically done one of two things.

“First, they have attempted to define mutually exclusive spheres for federal and provincial powers, with partial success. But, where mutual exclusion did not seem feasible or proper, the courts have implied the existence of concurrent federal and provincial powers in the overlapping area, with the result that either or both authorities have been permitted to legislate provided their statutes did not in some way conflict one with the other in the common area.” (See “The Concurrent Operation of Federal and Provincial Laws in Canada” (1963) McGill Law Journal Vol 9:3)

The words ‘exclusive’ and ‘exclusively’ occur in both Sections 91 and 92. But there may be matters, as Lord Fitzgerald observed more than 130 years ago in Hodge v The Queen (1883), “which in one aspect and for one purpose fall within Section 92, may in another aspect and for another purpose fall within Section 91”.

For instance, a law providing for suspension or revocation of the right to drive a car upon a highway because the driver was drunk has the provincial aspects of control of highways as local works and of the right to drive as a civil right in the province. These fall under provincial responsibility for safe and efficient circulation of traffic under Section 92.

Yet the law also touches on criminal law, which is a federal matter under Section 91.

So, where does the power to make the law reside, or do both federal and provincial governments have it?

According to Lederman, where a law displays several features, one of which at least falls within a federal matter, and another one of which falls within a provincial matter, the basic solution lies in the relative importance of the federal features and the provincial features.

One must ask: when does the need for a national standard by federal law outweigh the need for provincial autonomy and possible variety as developed by the laws of the several provinces, or vice versa?

The answers must be guided by the Constitution.

Lederman wrote:

“If the federal features of the law are deemed clearly to be more important than the provincial features of it, then the power to pass that law is exclusively federal.

“In other words, for this purpose the law is classified by its leading feature, by its more important characteristic, by its pith and substance.

“And if, on the other hand, the provincial features are deemed clearly more important than the federal ones, then power to pass the law in question is exclusively provincial.”

The “pith and substance” test is also used in Malaysia. The test has been borrowed from India.

Guess where the subcontinent borrowed it from?

No prizes for guessing right.

In Malaysia, when a question arises whether a law pertains to a matter in the Federal List or State List, the courts will seek to ascertain the true nature and character of the law and then decide under which matter the law falls.

The courts will examine the legislation in question as a whole and then ascertain what its true nature and character is in order to determine under which item in which list (Federal or State) it falls.

If according to its “pith and substance” the law falls within the powers conferred on the legislature which has enacted it, then the law does not become invalid merely because it incidentally encroaches on matters assigned to the other legislature.

To ascertain the true character of a law, it must be looked into as an organic whole. It is the substance and not the form or outward appearance of the legislation which must be considered.

The object, purpose and design of the law must be investigated for the purpose of ascertaining the true character and substance of the legislation and the class of subject matter of legislation to which it really belongs.

The test was last used by the Federal Court in 2024 in the case of Nik Elin Zurina bt Nik Abdul Rashid & Anor v Kerajaan Negeri Kelantan where the apex court, by a majority (8:1), found provisions in the Kelantan Syariah Criminal Code (I) Enactment 2019 fell under matters of criminal law in the Federal List.

The provisions were therefore invalid on the ground that they provided for matters with respect to which the Kelantan State Legislature had no power to make laws and that the provisions were void under Article 4(1) of the Federal Constitution.

The gist is this: ascertain the true nature and character of a law and then decide under which matter the law falls.

In Canada, it is either federal or provincial.

In Malaysia, either federal or state.

The determination must be made by reference to, and be guided by, the Constitution.

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