Mushrooming ‘recognition’: Malaysians are far too easily impressed by certificates, awards, plaques and honorary accolades, even when these honours are questionable, says the writer. — 123rf

IF there is an award for an Asean member country with the highest number of titled persons, we can be fairly certain that Malaysia will win hands down.

In fact, Malaysia could even win the APEC record – we can beat everyone in the Asia Pacific region.

Last week, a controversy cropped up when it was reported that business entities were allegedly using the “Asean name” to market and sell costly “Asean Record recognitions’’ to Malaysian businesses.

The matter first surfaced when the Peninsular Malaysia Consumers Association (PPSM) claimed that it had received multiple complaints from businesses on the matter.

The Consumer Association of Penang (CAP) followed up by urging all businesses to exercise caution and to verify any claims of Asean endorsement directly through official Asean channels.

So, how did we come to this point? It’s simple. Malaysia, how we love our titles.

We lobby and chase after titles and if we are to believe what we hear, we can also buy titles to look important.

We chase them, flaunt them, print them on name cards, social media profiles, wedding invitations and probably even on tombstones.

“Datuk”, “Tan Sri”, “Dr”, “Professor”, “Datuk Seri,” “Dato Sri” – the longer the string of titles before a name, the more important the person appears to be.

The Majlis Datuk Dato Malaysia (MDDM) receives information almost daily of dubious Malaysians who pass themselves off as Datuks even when they have not been awarded such a title.

Now, apparently, there is another addition to this curious national obsession – records and recognitions from obscure organisations, with grand-sounding international names.

The latest controversy involves a purported “Asean records” recognition and has once again exposed an uncomfortable truth.

Many Malaysians are not just content with getting Malaysian awards but crave regional, if not international, recognition.

It may just be a piece of paper and one even wonders if they actually add any value to a business but there are many businessmen who want it.

Malaysians are also far too easily impressed by certificates, plaques and honorary accolades, even when these honours are questionable, commercially driven or openly purchasable.

There are many businessmen who barely passed their school exams but would not mind paying for an honorary doctorate online. Many assume these institutions are recognised.

Many do not even have the decency to put a bracket to their “Dr” title to denote it’s an honorary title.

The issue is not whether achievements should be recognised. Genuine accomplishments deserve applause.

Malaysians who excel in science, sports, business, education or community service should indeed be celebrated.

The problem arises when recognition becomes transactional. In simple and blunt language – you paid for it without working for it.

Over the years, we have seen the mushrooming of honorary doctorates from dubious institutions, self-styled international awards, “world excellence” recognitions and now various “records” supposedly acknowledging extraordinary feats.

In many cases, recipients are quietly asked to pay processing fees, event table charges, membership subscriptions or “administrative costs”.

And then, the recipients proudly display these honours without any sense of shame.

What is troubling is not merely the existence of such organisations; there will always be businesses exploiting vanity and insecurity. The more worrying issue is why there remains such strong demand among Malaysians for these symbolic validations.

In many Asian societies, including Malaysia, titles confer status. The British are guilty, for sure. For them, titles and accolades open doors, command respect and create a social hierarchy.

In Malaysia, titles often carry enormous weight. At functions, introductions or salutations can sound like the reading of a royal honours list. Sometimes the titles are longer than the actual names.

We are conditioned from young to associate titles with authority and success. A person without one may seem less accomplished even if he or she possesses genuine expertise and integrity.

And yet, we see people with Tan Sri and Datuk titles being regularly arrested and charged in courts for all kinds of crime, including cheating.

This unhealthy fixation has also created an ecosystem where appearances matter more than substance.

Social media has amplified this phenomenon. Platforms like Instagram and LinkedIn reward image cultivation.

Photographs of gala dinners, award ceremonies and robe-wearing “graduations” create an illusion of prestige. Few bother to question the legitimacy behind the recognition.

Many respected professionals, scholars and corporate leaders rarely insist on being addressed by their honorifics. Their reputation speaks for itself.

It’s hard for the vain people to realise that genuine achievement requires no decorative embellishment.

A real record does not require self-promotion. It will be recognised and accorded all the respect it deserves – without the need to pay for it.

Big win: The recent Rain Rave Water Music Festival 2026 attracted many international visitors and reportedly raked in RM200mil in tourism income. — GLENN GUAN/The Star

THE Rain Rave 2026 Water Music Festival event in Bukit Bintang, Kuala Lumpur, has been a huge success, no doubt about it.

The Tourism, Culture and Arts Ministry has been cautious in releasing official figures as it is still tabulating the numbers. But that has not stopped the Malaysian Inland Tourism Association from claiming that the three-day event raked in RM200mil in tourism income, drawing over 180,000 visitors.

Its president, Mint Leong, reportedly said the festival boosted economic activity during the Labour Day holiday period around May 1, recording 1.4 billion click-throughs on global social media platforms and giving Malaysia huge international exposure.

This is an interesting angle as the event should not be measured merely by crowd size or estimated revenue.

Money derived from the festival is certainly essential. After all, Rain Rave was created as a tourism product precisely for that.

Anyone who actually took the trouble to visit the scene would have noticed the large number of families, senior citizens, and, more importantly, tourists.

Of course, there were also immigrant workers who took advantage of the holidays to unwind with free entertainment.

But did anyone see any hedonistic activities as imagined by some individuals and groups?

No.

Gender segregation may be practised in Kelantan, Terengganu, Kedah and Perlis but surely not in KL. It must have disappointed the naysayers that the event attracted many Malaysians of all faiths.

Rain Rave 2026 has effectively ticked several structural boxes to prove that it is an exemplary modern tourism product.

First, it demonstrated the power of low-cost, high impact programming – that explains why Bukit Bintang was the best choice of location.

It could accommodate a huge audience with hotels, restaurants, businesses and MRT connections nearby. A place like Sepang, Selangor, and its space would not be able to offer such attractions close by.

Unlike mega events that require heavy infrastructure and public spending, Rain Rave leveraged existing urban spaces in KL, turning streets into stages and participants into content creators.

This kept costs relatively contained while maximising visibility.

Second, it validated the growing importance of the experience economy. Rain Rave was not a passive spectacle but an immersive, participatory event – people did not just watch, they became part of the show.

This is critical in an era in which travellers, especially younger Asians, prioritise shareable experiences over traditional sightseeing. Instagram postings of themselves are a top priority!

Third, the event showed how social media amplification rivals physical attendance. For those who didn’t make it to KL, millions, mainly young people, watched it online across the globe.

Just think of the free advertising that social media has given to Malaysia as a result of Rain Rave 2026.

While the headline figures of tens of millions of views needs to be treated cautiously, the qualitative impact is undeniable: the festival generated sustained online chatter, user-generated content, and cross-border visibility.

In effect, every attendee became a micro-broadcaster, extending KL’s reach far beyond the actual footprint of the event.

A lot of fuss has been made about Rain Rave 2026 being an imitation of Thailand’s Songkran water festival. It certainly was not.

Rain Rave carved out a more urban, music-driven identity – a hybrid of street party and water festival.

This differentiation matters because it avoids the trap of imitation and instead builds a distinct, exportable brand.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Rain Rave proved that controversy – if managed – can be an accelerant rather than a liability.

The debates the event sparked about culture and propriety may have unsettled some quarters, but they also expanded the conversation and drew attention well beyond the usual tourism audience.

In the digital age, visibility often follows friction.

Taken together, these factors suggest that Rain Rave is not just a one-off success but a scalable model.

It offers Malaysia a template for future events: relatively low in cost, high in engagement, digitally amplified, and anchored in urban energy.

We are beyond the question of whether it worked, the challenge now is whether it can be institutionalised, refined, and repeated without losing its spontaneity – the very quality that made it succeed in the first place.

Rain Rave 2026 would not have taken off without a strong-willed politician like Tourism, Arts and Culture Minister Datuk Seri Tiong King Sing who dared to openly snub the critics.

Amusingly, he was attacked on social media for being a DAP politician when he is actually the president of Sarawak’s Progressive Democratic Party – in fact, he beat DAP candidates to win his Bintulu seat in the past six elections.

He is blunt and brash. He doesn’t care about having to pander to the media. In fact, many of us find it hard to get a response from him, but in the end, it is the delivery that matters.

The media has reported that Malaysia’s status in tourism has been “a strong overperformance relative to the region’’ with 10 million arrivals in 2022, 20.1 million in 2023, and 25 million in 2024, according to The Edge. The Star reported 38 million total visitors.

Malaysia was among the earliest in Asean to cross pre-Covid-19 benchmarks, well ahead of Thailand and the Philippines.

We have also seen record-breaking revenue numbers with RM71.3bil in receipts in 2023 and RM102bil to RM106bil in 2024.

The Star reported a 43% jump in receipts in just one year, and for the first time we crossed the RM100bil mark.

The bottom line is that Malaysia’s revenue growth is outpacing arrivals growth, which suggest higher per capita spending and better yield per tourist.

The Department of Statistics Malaysia reported that the total tourism contribution was RM291.9bil in 2024 – which is 15.1% of the shared GDP – as well as 3.5 million jobs or 21.6% employment of the workforce.

The reality is Malaysia is an attractive tourist spot but beaches, jungles and street food are not enough.

The Rain Rave event must now be institutionalised and become a fixed spot in the calendar, so tourists know exactly when to come.

Let’s retain a strong tourism product and a performing minister if it helps the economy. It’s the bottom line that matters.

Unnecessary distraction: Having an election in these times of global turmoil is not prudent. — Filepic/The Star

DESPITE continuous speculation that the general election could be held soon, there is actually no urgency for the unity government to call for one. Its full term ends only in December 2027.

Even then, the prime minister has another 60 days before polling day. Assuming that Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim wants to serve a full term, he has more than a year from now.

He has already emphasised that politics needs to take a back seat as Malaysia, like the rest of the world, grapples with the oil crisis and the escalating cost of living every day that the Iran conflict goes on.

No one knows how long this will drag on. The Strait of Hormuz remains shut and the supply of oil is slowing to a trickle.

The PM faces a familiar but increasingly urgent political dilemma: whether to call for fresh elections now, amid gathering economic headwinds, or to hold the line until conditions are more favourable.

This debate is sharpened by the reality of a looming oil supply crunch, rising global tensions, and the knock-on effects that will inevitably be felt at home – from inflationary pressures to fiscal strain.

On the one hand, there is a compelling argument for seeking a fresh mandate sooner rather than later.

Periods of crisis demand clarity of leadership and many Malaysians would put their faith in Anwar.

Many of us are baffled by PAS president Tan Sri Abdul Hadi Awang who questioned the necessity for a fuel price hike. Surely he should know better – unless he has no idea that global prices are fixed and that Malaysia is a net importer of oil.

Then there is Perikatan Nasional chairman Datuk Seri Dr Ahmad Samsuri Mokhtar, who proposed the setting up of a non-partisan national council comprising representatives from NGO, academia, industry and civil society to develop strategies to handle rising energy prices and supply and logistics disruptions.

The Terengganu Mentri Besar surely means well, but with the extremely fluid situation daily, there is really no time for a talk shop.

It is best to leave it to PETRONAS, the Finance Ministry and the experts with oil industry background to decide on the measures, which would include seeking oil supplies from alternative sources.

A government that goes to the rakyat and secures a renewed endorsement can govern with stronger legitimacy, make difficult decisions with greater confidence, and rally the nation around a coherent plan.

In times of economic uncertainty, hesitation can be costly. Markets, investors and ordinary Malaysians alike value decisiveness and stability.

An oil crisis is anticipated, and it is not a distant threat. Any sustained disruption to supply will push up fuel prices globally, affecting everything from transport costs to food prices.

For a country like Malaysia – an oil producer but which provides subsidies on fuel at RM7bil a month – the policy choices will be politically sensitive and economically painful.

Rationalising subsidies, managing public expectations, and cushioning vulnerable groups will require firm and trusted leadership.

An election, if won convincingly, could provide that political capital.

On the other hand, calling for polls in the midst of such uncertainty is not without risk. Elections are, by nature, disruptive.

It is also a highly expensive exercise. The last general election, in 2022, cost taxpayers nearly RM2bil.

The Melaka state administration’s term ends in December while Johor’s ends in April next year. A Sarawak state election could be held by this year, too, although its administration’s term only ends in 2027.

Former Elections Commission deputy chairman Datuk Seri Wan Ahmad Wan Omar reportedly said that, from an election management perspective, holding state and general elections simultaneously is the best method to save funds, manpower and resources.

He said that if state and general elections were to run concurrently, it would cost up to RM1.3bil, saving up to RM200mil in gross budgeted costs.

But money aside, when we are facing a serious economic problem, including cutting costs, it is hard to accept our politicians crisscrossing the country spending huge sums of money on political events – and burning fuel for unproductive reasons.

Politicking can also distract from governance at a time when full attention is needed on managing the economy.

Campaign rhetoric may over-simplify complex policy choices, with populist promises over-shadowing fiscal realities. Worse, a fractured or inconclusive result could produce political instability – precisely what the country cannot afford in a crisis.

There is also a matter of timing from a political stand-point. Delaying elections until next year may allow the ruling coalition to consolidate its position, strengthen internal cohesion, and improve its standing with voters.

Given time, economic condi-tions could stabilise, and the government may even be better positioned to mitigate the worst effects of the oil shock. Political sentiments, often fluid, may shift in its favour.

The biggest concern for many in Putrajaya is this: If the oil crisis deepens and the cost of living rises even more sharply, public frustration could harden into disillusionment.

Although the price of fuel in Malaysia is second lowest in Asean, locals still complain about the increasing cost of fuel. It is hard to talk logic when pockets are empty and jobs may be lost.

It is easy for the opposition to make empty but populist promises. Governments are rarely rewarded for presiding over hardship, even when the causes are external.

Beyond politics: What makes the story of Dicky Yau and Abang Usop particularly powerful is its authenticity. — Facebook/Agencies

IT was certainly the news story of the week, and a really uplifting one.

Scrolling through social media, it is always easy to come away with the impression that Malay-sians are becoming more divided.

There is so much toxicity there. Sometimes, I wonder if it is reflective of our country, but I want to convince myself that these narratives are politically manufactured, on thousands of fake accounts, ahead of elections.

Has this race and religious talk influenced our minds and perhaps made many of us more inclined to see one another through the narrow lenses of race and religion?

Even accidents can be turned into a race issue, as we pick our victims in the tragic cases.

Often, many forget that we live in a multiracial society and it is natural that incidents, including accidents or crime, can involve people of different races.

The narrative of polarisation has been repeated so often that it risks becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And then, quietly and without fanfare, comes a story like that of motorcyclist Dicky Yau and “Abang minyak hitam jalanan”, an itinerant mechanic who repairs bikes that break down on the streets.

It was a small and ordinary incident. A motorist caught in a difficult situation on a late evening; his calls for a mechanic were ignored; he was short of cash and unsure how to settle a bill.

On the other side, a mechanic – the kind many Malaysians fondly refer to as “abang minyak hitam” – chose to accept his call and repaired his bike.

Mohd Yusof Mohamed Noor could have chosen to be transactional and maybe agitated but instead, he responded with understanding and trust, choosing compassion over convenience.

Abang Usop, as he is fondly known, refused to accept the payment for his service after realising how little money Yau had in his e-wallet.

At any other time, this might have remained a fleeting roadside encounter, quickly forgotten. But in today’s Malaysia, such moments carry a deeper resonance.

When the story surfaced, Malaysians did what they so often do when presented with genuine humanity: they rallied.

Suddenly, the usual negative tone of social media changed. Words of encouragement poured in with a sense of shared pride.

No one paused to dissect identities. No one demanded to know who belonged to which community.

For a brief but meaningful moment, Malaysians simply saw two individuals – one in need, and another who stepped up – and they responded as fellow human beings.

Online citizens shared stories of how the mechanic refused to accept donations and even offers of a motorcycle, and there were calls to support the halal-certified restaurant where Yau works.

It was beautiful. Beneath the political noises, generated mostly by politicians, paid cybertroopers and self-declared community heroes, we know there exists a quieter, more enduring, more forgiving Malaysia.

It is the Malaysia of everyday interactions: the stranger who helps push a stalled car in the rain, the hawker who adds a little extra to a meal, the neighbour who keeps an eye on your home when you are away.

These acts do not trend, nor are they politicised. These people are too busy trying to put food on the table, to pay the bills, send their kids to school, worry about their future, and focus on their work.

Ordinary Malaysians share more in common than what divides them. We all navigate the same daily routines. These are the ordinary Malaysians who form the social glue that has long held this country together.

We have built, quietly and consistently, through small acts of trust and kindness, at work places, in workshops, by roadsides, in markets, and coffee shops.

The reaction to Dicky Yau and Abang Usop reaffirms something fundamental about us. It reminds us that, at our core, Malaysians are still guided by a sense of decency, rationality, and fairness.

That when confronted with a genuine situation, we do not retreat into suspicion – we step forward with generosity.

What makes the story of Dicky Yau and Abang Usop particularly powerful is its authenticity.

It serves as a timely reminder that unity in Malaysia has never been manufactured through slogans or campaigns alone.

The mainstream media as well as influencers and ordinary people online can play their role by highlighting more of such stories that bring Malaysians together.

We need more such positive stories, and Malaysians will respond positively, too, as they did in the Dicky Yau and Abang Usop story.

It is a story that deserves to be told – and retold – as a reminder of who we are, and who we can continue to be.

At a time when anyone with a phone can publish ‘news’, unverified and often racially-tinged information are common. Being responsible when reporting news has become crucial.

AS a new reporter who had just joined a newspaper in 1984, I was assigned to the crime and courts beats to hone my skills.

Covering police stations and courtrooms taught us rookies, as we were called, to verify facts, work multiple sources, and understand the legal boundaries of reporting. It taught us what could be said and what must not be said.

It was an education in responsibility. Crime reporting exposed journalists to real human consequences – loss, grief, injustice – and instilled the need for accuracy, restraint, and sensitivity.

In the courts, we learned the importance of due process, the presumption of innocence, and why reporting must never be prejudicial to a case. Probably the most important word used in our stories was “alleged’’.

Just as importantly, these beats trained reporters to separate fact from rumour. In environments where speculation was rife, discipline mattered.

That grounding helped ensure that when reporters moved on to other roles, they carried with them a respect for truth, balance, and the potential impact of every word they wrote.

Our editors, regardless of the medium of the newspapers, drummed into us important ethics – never mention the race of an accident victim and the alleged offender motorist, especially if it involved two persons of different races.

The same principle applied to other cases, too, in particular rape and murder cases. The ethnic background was omitted, although in cases involving foreigners nationalities could be mentioned.

The names of the alleged offenders and victims are mentioned only when those accused are charged in courts.

Data-proven: Alcohol-related crashes account for less than 0.5% of total road fatalities in Malaysia, with fatal cases typically in the low double digits each year. — The Star

It was not about hiding facts; it was about understanding context and consequence. Editors drilled into us that words matter, and that an unnecessary reference to race could inflame tensions in a plural society.

Social media has changed all that.

Horrific videos captured from dash cams are immediately shared and anger is stoked as netizens post racist comments, as was seen in a recent high-profile case of an Indian driver and a Malay victim. This was compounded by allegations of alcohol consumption.

The national mood can quickly turn brittle.

We find ourselves, as the old phrase goes, on tenterhooks. Malaysia has long prided itself on a delicate but workable social compact – an understanding that our diversity is a strength, not a fault line.

What is most worrying is how quickly individual incidents are framed through the prism of race, rather than treated as what they are: matters for the rule of law.

It is most disturbing and sad. When an incident occurs, facts are often still emerging. Yet on social media, the story is already being written – and rewritten – with dangerous certainty.

Race is inserted early into the narrative, sometimes deliberately. The mention of alcohol, too, is not neutral; it is weaponised to invoke moral judgment, particularly within a Muslim-majority context.

Compounding this is a dangerous distortion of facts. Public outrage is often amplified in cases involving alleged drunk driving, particularly when race is inserted into the narrative.

Yet the data tells a very different story. Alcohol-related crashes account for less than 0.5% of total road fatalities in Malaysia, with fatal cases typically in the low double digits each year.

In 2023, for example, there were just 13 fatal cases linked to drink driving; in 2024, 12 cases. Even in 2025, the numbers remained extremely low relative to the thousands of overall road deaths.

The fatal accident cases involved drivers who tested positive for drugs, were fiddling with their mobile phones, and driving dangerously and without helmets. In many cases, it was pure incompetence.

Motorcyclists and pillion riders account for about 65% to 70% of all road fatalities in Malaysia, according to Paul Tan’s Automotive News portal.

A significant contributing factor is vulnerability – not just behaviour – but lack of physical protection compared with cars. Studies showed that up to 38% of motorcycle accidents involve riders not wearing helmets.

In some observations, 42.8% of riders did not wear helmets at all, and many others wore them improperly.

Even when helmets are worn, around 45% are not properly fastened, reducing effectiveness.

It doesn’t help when we see pictures of politicians riding in rural areas without helmets in a convoy. They set bad examples.

A Klang Valley study found that 43.4% of drivers admit using phones while driving, and over 50% use phones when caught in traffic jams, according to the Transport Ministry.

Despite the high awareness of danger, only 4% of reported accidents are linked to phone use (self-reported).

However, enforcement and police data indicate that distracted driving (including phone use) is among the top causes of accidents, alongside reckless driving and human error.

The Daily Express reported that Malaysia records hundreds of thousands of accidents annually (over 600,000 in 2024 alone) with the dominant causes being: reckless or inattentive driving, failure to observe traffic rules, and loss of control.

Put simply, drink driving – while serious and entirely unacceptable – is statistically one of the least common causes of fatal accidents in the country.

By contrast, the real killers on Malaysian roads are far less discussed: reckless driving, human error, and systemic safety gaps.

Motorcyclists alone account for about 65% of fatalities, and broader risky behaviour – not alcohol – is the dominant factor behind the deaths.

Today, anyone with a smartphone can “publish”, and often does so instantly. The old gatekeeping role of editors has been replaced by algorithms that reward speed and outrage.

In this new environment, the restraint that once guided reporting is frequently absent. Race is no longer a detail to be carefully considered; it is often the headline.

Instead of getting news from trained reporters, we are consuming news from so-called content creators and influencers.

None of this is to diminish the tragedy of a life lost to an intoxicated driver. Even one death is one too many.

But when public discourse elevates a statistically small category into a racialised national crisis, we risk losing perspective. Worse, we risk fuelling division based on perception rather than fact.

We should ask ourselves: When did we begin to lose confidence in our institutions? The police, the courts, and the investigative process exist precisely to establish facts and deliver justice.

When public discourse runs ahead of due process, it creates pressure – not just on the authorities, but on communities themselves. Every such case risks being seen not as an isolated crime, but as a proxy for communal grievance.

Malaysians have become more connected online but also more disconnected in their thinking.

As Communications Minister Datuk Fahmi Fadzil put it – Malaysians are using 5G connectivity but we have 6G capability when it comes to sharing fake news in this country.