Set to be crowded: A flag war in Johor Baru during the 2022 general election. Today, Johor once again finds itself at the centre of a potentially transformative political moment with its upcoming state polls. — Filepic/The Star

ALL signs points to a crowded election fight in Johor, one of Malaysia’s most economically important states, although the consensus is that the Barisan Nasional holds pole position.

For many observers, the upcoming state election appears poised to become a defining test of whether Malaysia’s political future will continue to be dominated by large coalitions or whether the country is entering a new era of fragmented, personality-driven politics.

For decades, Johor occupied a special place in the nation’s political landscape.

As the birthplace of Umno and long regarded as Barisan’s safest fortress, the state often reflected broader political trends before they became apparent elsewhere.

When Johor began showing signs of political change in 2018, many observers interpreted it as evidence that the country’s political foundations were shifting. And change happened.

Today, the state once again finds itself at the centre of a potentially transformative political moment.

Barisan has announced that it will go solo, which means it will be taking on Pakatan Harapan, its partner in the federal level unity government headed by Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim.

How the two major coalitions will slug it out without wounding each other badly before the next general election is left to be seen.

Then there is opposition bloc Perikatan Nasional comprising PAS, Bersatu, Gerakan, and MIPP. The relationship between PAS and Bersatu seems to have broken down, with leaders issuing contradicting statements.

At the time of writing, all eyes are on former Bersatu man Datuk Seri Hamzah Zainuddin and his new political platform – speculation is rife whether it would actually replace Bersatu in Perikatan.

Should that happen, we could see another intra-coalition fight with Bersatu taking on Perikatan.

There is also the newly-formed Parti Bersama Malaysia (Bersama) headed by Datuk Seri Rafizi Ramli, a former PKR deputy president, and his loyalist Nik Nazmi Nik Ahmad, who are both Klang Valley-based politicians.

It has been reported that the party wants to contest all seats in Johor but unless it can attract known state figures to sign up, it will be difficult to regard Bersama as a formidable force outside Kuala Lumpur.

Which brings us to the next point: where does Muda, which, like Bersama, also eyes young voters, stand in this election?

After the exit of its former president Syed Saddiq Syed Abdul Rahman, it appears to be drifting aimlessly. The party is now headed by Amira Aisya Abd Aziz, the state assemblyman for Puteri Wangsa.

Although regarded as an urban and liberal party, talk that it is prepared to work out a pact with PAS, Pejuang and Ikatan Prihatin Rakyat has raised questions about what Muda actually stands for.

In the 2022 Johor election, Barisan won 40 of the 56 seats up for grabs, Pakatan won 12, Perikatan won three, while Muda managed one.

Much has changed since.

Unlike previous elections, where parties were largely organised under identifiable coalitions, the emerging picture suggests that Johor voters may be presented with multiple competing alternatives.

Barisan, Pakatan, and newcomer Bersama are all expected to enter the fray under their own banners.

The uncertainty surrounding PAS and Bersatu – and their Perikatan coalition – has created additional intrigue, with growing speculation that new alignments may emerge before polling day.

If PAS were to align with Hamzah’s new platform, Johor’s electoral battlefield could become dramatically more crowded.

A PAS-Hamzah alignment would potentially consolidate portions of the conservative Malay vote while offering a fresh narrative centred on opposition unity and political renewal.

Should these developments materialise, Johor could witness some of the most complex electoral contests in its modern history.

Under a fragmented electoral environment, winning no longer requires commanding majority support.

Instead, victory increasingly depends on securing a plurality of votes in crowded contests. Constituencies that once required a candidate to secure 50% or more of the vote could potentially be won with support in the mid 30% range if rival votes are divided among several competing parties.

This reality may ultimately favour Barisan, which has organisational depth, particularly in Johor’s rural and semi-rural constituencies.

Barisan enters the contest with a relatively clear structure, established grassroots networks, and disciplined election machinery.

In a fragmented field, organisational strength often becomes more valuable than broad popularity.

Still, it would be a mistake to assume that Barisan’s victory is guaranteed.

The political environment confronting voters today differs markedly from previous decades.

Younger voters have entered the electorate in large numbers following the implementation of Undi18, while urbanisation and changing socioeconomic expectations continue to reshape political loyalties.

Voters are increasingly less attached to traditional party affiliations and more willing to evaluate candidates and parties on contemporary concerns such as economic opportunities, cost of living pressures, governance standards, and institutional reform.

This creates opportunities for Pakatan, which remains strongest in urban centres and among voters who prioritise governance reforms and institutional accountability.

Johor’s expanding urban corridors, stretching from Johor Baru to Iskandar Puteri and beyond, provide fertile ground for Pakatan’s message.

The coalition, however, faces a dilemma familiar to opposition parties operating in fragmented political systems: how to prevent anti-establishment votes from being split among multiple competitors.

Converting public interest into electoral success requires extensive grassroots organisation, candidate quality, and financial resources – areas in which established parties generally maintain substantial advantages.

Johor may therefore offer an early glimpse into what future national elections could look like.

Rather than a straightforward battle between two dominant blocs, Malaysia may be heading towards a political landscape where four or five major forces are in competition.

Most importantly, it may also reveal whether Malaysia is entering a new political chapter where coalition politics gives way to a more fragmented and uncertain electoral order.

If that is indeed what happens, Johor will once again have provided an early indication of where Malaysian politics is heading.

Urban non-Malay voters are more prone to voter fatigue and political disengagement. — K.T.GOH/The Star

DAP leaders are troubled – it is certainly not wrong to suggest that.

The party, which built its political influence on a dependable bloc of Chinese and Indian voters and support from Malaysians, is facing an unfamiliar and dangerous political squeeze.

These voters have always been its fixed political deposits who supported the party’s push for institutional reform and multiracial politics.

Now, though, the party is trapped in an odd spot. On one hand, it continues to be demonised by Malay hardliners who use the DAP as a convenient bogeyman to rally conservative Malay-Muslim sentiment.

The DAP is blamed for almost everything, with the attacks most incessant in the Malay social media.

On the other hand, frustration is quietly growing among segments of its traditional support base, particularly non-Malay voters.

These mostly urban electorate are increasingly disillusioned with politics, impatient over reforms and weary of endless political instability.

The danger for the DAP – and perhaps more importantly for the unity government itself – is not necessarily that these voters will switch en masse to the opposition.

After all, the DAP won in most urban areas with a huge majority in previous elections and even a reduction may not make an impact.

The bigger threat is that they may simply stay home during the next general election.

That possibility of a boycott carries enormous implications for Malaysia’s political future.

Many disillusioned Chinese and Indians may not realise such inactions could boomerang on the two minority communities.

Unlike the highly mobilised and disciplined voter machinery of parties within Perikatan Nasional, especially PAS, urban non-Malay voters are more prone to voter fatigue and political disengagement.

Many of them came out strongly during the last few elections because they believed change was urgent and possible. But over time, political exhaustion has set in.

Some feel reforms have been too slow. Others believe coalition politics has diluted promises.

There are also complaints that leaders spend too much time managing political survival instead of governance and economic recovery.

The rising cost of living has compounded these frustrations. Bread-and-butter concerns now dominate conversations far more than idealistic reform narratives.

Our fuel is heavily subsidised to the tune of RM7bil a month and is the second cheapest in Asean, but that has not stopped voters from whining.

Yet if non-Malay voters decide to “teach DAP politicians a lesson” by abstaining, they may unintentionally produce the exact opposite outcome – the one that they fear.

Malaysia’s electoral system is not based on overall popular votes. Elections are won constituency by constituency.

A lower turnout among urban and non-Malay voters can dramatically alter results even if voting patterns among Malay-majority constituencies remain unchanged. This is where PAS stands to benefit.

PAS has one of the country’s most loyal and motivated grassroots machinery networks. Its supporters reliably turn up to vote regardless of weather, political fatigue or dissatisfaction.

They do not care if the Islamist party has performed badly in managing Kedah, Perlis, Kelantan and Terengganu, which continue to lag behind other states.

Religious networks, party discipline and ideological clarity provide the party with a highly resilient voter base.

In contrast, urban swing voters often behave differently. If they become disappointed, they disengage. That asymmetry matters enormously in elections.

Even a small drop in turnout among Chinese and Indian voters in mixed constituencies could allow PAS or Perikatan Nasional candidates to capture additional parliamentary seats.

The implications would extend far beyond ordinary electoral arithmetic.

Some have suggested that they opt for Rafizi Ramli’s Parti Bersama Malaysia but it is unlikely that it would have sufficient time and resources to galvanise into a national political vehicle.

It is yet to be seen if Bersama can do better than Muda, given its more experienced line-up, or if it, too, will suffer the same fate.

Bersama would probably want to focus on Klang Valley parliamentary seats to have a reasonable impact if urban voters want to ditch Pakatan Harapan. Spreading its budget thin by going national would be a hindrance.

A stronger PAS presence in Parliament would inevitably shape national discourse more aggressively around religious conservatism, identity politics and cultural anxieties.

Moderate voices within the political system could become weaker, while coalition governments would become even more vulnerable to ethno-religious pressure.

Ironically, many non-Malay voters who dislike racial and religious politics may unknowingly strengthen those very forces by refusing to participate in elections.

Political disengagement does not create neutrality. It creates vacancies – and in politics, someone else will always fill the vacuum.

The lesson from many democracies worldwide is clear: highly motivated ideological voters almost always outperform apathetic moderate voters.

For the DAP, the party must now do more than simply attack opponents or rely on fear of the alternative. Fear alone is no longer enough to sustain voter enthusiasm.

It must reconnect with frustrated supporters through governance, policy delivery and honesty about the limitations of coalition rule.

Voters may accept compromise, but they do not respond well to silence or political arrogance.

The DAP also needs to recognise that younger voters are less emotionally attached to political parties. Unlike older generations shaped by Reformasi-era politics, many younger Malaysians are pragmatic, impatient and less loyal. If they feel disconnected, they may simply opt out altogether.

At the same time, the party remains trapped in another political contradiction.

The more it tries to reassure Malay voters that it is moderate and accommodating, the more some traditional supporters accuse it of being too timid.

But if it becomes more vocal, it risks reinforcing the long-standing portrayal by rivals that the DAP is “anti-Malay” or anti-Islam.

This balancing act may become even harder as the next general election approaches.

For Malay hardliners, the DAP remains the perfect political punching bag – useful for mobilising fears and consolidating support.

For frustrated non-Malay voters, meanwhile, the DAP risks becoming the symbol of unfulfilled expectations. To them, the DAP has lost its gravitas.

Caught between demonisation and disillusionment, the party faces a genuine political double whammy.

But perhaps the larger warning is not just for the DAP.

It is for non-Malay and moderate Malaysian voters themselves.

In a deeply polarised political climate, staying home on polling day is not a protest without consequences. It can fundamentally reshape the country’s political direction.

And if turnout collapses among moderate and centrist voters, the biggest beneficiaries will be the most organised and ideologically driven forces waiting quietly on the other side.

The Chinese and Indians in the peninsula can play the role of kingmaker or resign to staying at home but unwittingly score a major own goal, believing they are punishing politicians who did not deliver on promises.

Royal order: The Sultan of Selangor, Sultan Sharafuddin Idris Shah, says all assemblymen in the state should go to Dataran Selangor twice a month to read the Rukun Negara inscribed on a plaque there. — Photos: Selangor Royal Office’s Facebook

THE Rukun Negara was never meant to be just a ceremonial pledge to be recited absent-mindedly during school assemblies or national events.

Instead, our founding fathers had bigger plans when they painstakingly drafted the preamble and five principles.

It was born out of one of the darkest moments in our history – the racial riots of May 13, 1969, when the nation realised that political rhetoric, communal suspicion, and irresponsible leadership could tear apart the fragile fabric of a young country.

More than five decades later, why do we have the impression that the Rukun Negara is no longer given serious recognition?

We like to tell ourselves that the Rukun Negara remains relevant but ironically, those who should be upholding its spirit the most – our politicians – are often the very people undermining it.

Last week, the Sultan of Selangor, Sultan Sharafuddin Idris Shah, said all assemblymen in the state should go to Dataran Selangor twice a month to read the Rukun Negara inscribed on a plaque at the square.

He singled out Seri Kembangan assemblyman Wong Siew Ki of DAP and the party’s former state executive member Ronnie Liu.

“I encourage them to go to Dataran Selangor every week to understand and appreciate the Rukun Negara,’’ His Royal Highness said in a statement.

The Sultan did not provide specific reasons for directing his remarks at the two individuals.

However, the statement is widely understood to be linked to the ongoing controversy over pig farming in Selangor, as both men had previously been associated with the issue in public discourse and criticism.

The remarks by Wong and Liu had earlier drawn criticism from several quarters, particularly within the Malay and Muslim communities; the two had made comments relating to pig farming projects in Selangor, which were perceived by some as disrespectful to the Selangor ruler.

Sultan Sharafuddin had previously maintained his position that he does not consent to any pig farming activities being carried out in any district in the state.

The five principles of the Rukun Negara are simple, clear and timeless: Belief in God, loyalty to King and country, supremacy of the Constitution, rule of law, and courtesy and morality.

These are not mere abstract ideals but the minimum foundation required for a diverse nation like Malaysia to survive and prosper.

Tuanku’s message is for all politicians in Selangor and not merely the two from the DAP.

The Palace’s unhappiness is that political discourse has become increasingly coarse, divisive and reckless.

Contentious and sensitive issues would be better discussed amicably behind closed doors. Playing to the gallery isn’t going to help.

The question is not a matter of the limits of a constitutional monarchy but the tone used and whether sufficient wisdom and sensitivity were exercised, as commentator Anas Zubedy wrote.

The matter involves the palace, the rakyat and the wider social fabric of Malaysia.

“In life, it is not only what you say that matters, but also how, when and where you say it. One may legally argue a point and yet still fail in wisdom, manners and cultural sensitivity,’’ he said, adding that, “Respectful engagement matters. Tone matters. Context matters. Institutions matter’’.

Contentious issues should rightly be resolved effectively through proper consensus and without the need for sound bites and hits on social media platforms.

We now see politicians – and probably paid cybertroopers and influencers – exploiting race and religion for short-term gains, questioning constitutional arrangements whenever convenient, insulting institutions, and reducing serious national issues to endless political theatre.

Social media has worsened this culture, rewarding outrage over reason and provocation over prudence.

Many politicians speak passionately about patriotism but they sound hollow in reality as they behave in ways that weaken national unity.

Some demand respect for their own beliefs while showing little respect for the sensitivities of others.

Others preach morality while engaging in toxic politics that normalise hatred, mockery, and character assassination.

This is precisely why the Rukun Negara must not be treated as a relic of the past.

The principle of courtesy and morality, for example, may sound old-fashioned in today’s combative political climate, but it is perhaps the principle Malaysia most urgently needs to turn to.

Democracy does not mean permanent hostility. Political competition should never come at the expense of basic decency and mutual respect.

Likewise, the supremacy of the Constitution and the rule of law cannot be selectively defended only when politically convenient.

Politicians cannot claim to support democratic institutions while simultaneously attacking them whenever decisions do not favour their narratives.

The Rukun Negara was intended to create a common national identity above ethnic and political divisions. This is clearly reflected in the preamble of the Rukun Negara which says Malaysia nurtures the ambitions of:

• Achieving a more perfect unity amongst the whole of her society;
• Preserving a democratic way of life;
• Creating a just society where the prosperity of the country can be enjoyed together in a fair and equitable manner;
• Guaranteeing a liberal approach towards our traditional heritage that is rich and diverse;
• Building a progressive society that will make use of science and modern technology.

The Rukun Negara recognised that Malaysia’s diversity is both our strength and our vulnerability. Without shared principles, a plural society can quickly descend into mistrust and fragmentation.

The Rukun Negara was drafted by key historical figures. And it needs to be pointed out that diversity and shared principles were the reason why, in the first tenet, the belief in God, the word “Tuhan” was chosen.

When elected representatives openly trade insults, play up racial insecurities, or flirt with extremist rhetoric, they normalise intolerance for the next generation.

Politics then becomes less about governance and nation-building and more about perpetual anger and division.

Malaysia’s stability over the decades did not happen by accident.

It was built on compromise, moderation, and an understanding that no single community can dominate this country alone. The Rukun Negara reflects that social contract.

Critics may dismiss it as idealistic or symbolic, but nations survive on shared values and collective discipline.

Remove those guardrails and society becomes vulnerable to polarisation and extremism.

The danger is not that Malaysians no longer know the Rukun Negara. Most can still recite it. The danger is that many no longer internalise it.

Perhaps it is time to stop treating the Rukun Negara merely as a school recital and start treating it as a national code of conduct – especially for politicians seeking public office.

Leadership is not only about winning elections. It is also about setting standards for society.

If politicians themselves cannot embody the principles of respect, restraint, and constitutional loyalty, then the Rukun Negara risks becoming little more than words on paper.

Perhaps it is time for all Parliament and state assembly meetings to begin with these lawmakers singing NegaraKu and reciting the Rukun Negara.

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.