Happy Diwali or Happy Deepavali? What is more important is that we always celebrate together as Malaysians. — KAMARUL ARIFFIN/YAP CHEE HONG/The Star

FOR a long time, we have wished our Indian friends “Happy Deepavali”, our Malay friends “Selamat Hari Raya” and our Chinese friends “Kong Hei Fatt Choy” in Cantonese or “Keong Hee Huat Chye” in Hokkien.

It was that simple. Everyone understood the goodwill behind the greetings. Nobody needed a dictionary, a cultural seminar, or a social media debate to explain what we meant.

Today, even the names of festivals can become controversial: Deepavali versus Diwali, Hari Raya versus Lebaran, buka puasa versus iftar, and Kong Hei Fatt Choy versus Gong Xi Fa Cai.

Call them what you will; the celebrations remain essentially the same. But identity matters, and we know how sensitive cultural and ethnic issues can be.

The irony is that Malaysia’s multicultural character has always rested on shared celebrations, open houses, exchanged greetings and food from different communities. Yet social media can turn almost every linguistic difference into a dispute.

Take Deepavali and Diwali. Both refer to the Hindu festival of lights, with the names shaped by regional, linguistic, and cultural traditions. Deepavali is widely used in Malaysia, Brunei, and Singapore, while Diwali is more common in parts of India and among Indian communities in countries such as the United States and Britain.

Neither should be treated as a threat to the other.

The same applies to Hari Raya and Lebaran. Hari Raya Aidilfitri is familiar in Malaysia, while Lebaran is widely used in Indonesia, alongside Idulfitri.

Shared traditions do not require identical vocabulary. We can appreciate our neighbours’ expressions without abandoning our own.

Buka puasa and iftar likewise refer to breaking the Ramadan fast. One term is a deeply familiar one in Malaysia, while the other is the Arabic term widely used across the Muslim world. Neither makes someone more religious or authentic.

The spirit of Ramadan lies in generosity, compassion, and fellowship, not in policing the words used at the dining table.

Among Malaysian Chinese, “Kong Hei Fatt Choy” and “Gong Xi Fa Cai” reflect different linguistic traditions. Cantonese, Hokkien, Hakka, and other Chinese dialects have shaped local speech, while Mandarin has become increasingly prominent through education and the media.

A Cantonese greeting is not outdated, just as a Mandarin greeting does not erase local heritage. Both have a place in our linguistically diverse society. Ultimately, the choice may come down to personal preference, family tradition, or simply what is most convenient.

But the growing dominance of Mandarin worries me, particularly in Penang, where the distinctive local variety of Hok-kien risks being lost.

Many younger Chinese Malaysians, having attended Chinese primary schools, are more comfortable speaking Mandarin than Hokkien. For Baby Boomers like me, who received our education in English-medium schools, navigating conversations in Penang can sometimes be a struggle.

I insist on speaking my distinctive Penang Hokkien, which I am proud of, but it may be a losing battle.

Then there is the wider debate over Christmas greetings.

In many Western countries, “Merry Christmas” was once the standard seasonal greeting, used freely in public spaces, workplaces, and schools. Increasingly, some institutions and corporations have adopted “Happy Holidays” instead.

There is a reasonable explanation for this. Christmas falls during a period when people also observe Hanukkah, New Year, and other religious or cultural occasions. “Happy Holidays” is intended to include everyone, including those who do not celebrate Christmas.

It can be a courteous gesture, although commercial considerations may have also played a part. The intention is to avoid assuming that everyone shares the same faith or tradition.

However, the growing use of “Happy Holidays” has also led to debates over what is commonly called woke culture, particularly the argument that public language should be adjusted to avoid excluding or offending particular groups.

In the United States and parts of Europe, critics argue that traditional Christian greetings are being abandoned in the name of diversity, sometimes creating the impression that the majority must set aside its customs to accommodate others.

There is a distinction between being considerate and becoming excessively anxious about causing offence.

In its best form, inclusive language encourages sensitivity and respect. In its worst form, it can make ordinary expressions seem unacceptable simply because not everyone shares the same beliefs.

There is nothing inherently wrong with saying “Happy Holidays” when addressing a mixed audience. Nor is there anything wrong with wishing someone “Merry Christmas”.

The problem begins when one greeting is presented as morally superior to the other, or when people are made to feel that saying “Merry Christmas” is insensitive, outdated, or politically incorrect.

Christians should not have to apologise for saying “Merry Christmas”, just as non-Christians should not be pressured to use the greeting.

Courtesy should leave room for both. A company may choose “Happy Holidays” for a general advertisement, while an individual may warmly wish a Christian friend “Merry Christmas”. There is no contradiction.

The purpose of inclusive language should be to widen the circle of respect, not erase familiar traditions. If every religious greeting is replaced by a neutral phrase for fear of offending someone, public life may become less contentious but also less meaningful.

Diversity should not require us to remove all references to faith and culture from our shared vocabulary.

The larger problem is not that different names exist, but that we sometimes treat those differences as challenges to our identity.

Learning another community’s preferred terminology is respectful. Humiliating someone for using a familiar expression in good faith is not.

If someone wishes us Happy Deepavali, Selamat Hari Raya, Kong Hei Fatt Choy or Merry Christmas, our first response should be to appreciate the goodwill behind the greeting.

Of course, precise terminology matters in certain contexts, including official documents and educational materials. Commu-nities should also be free to explain how they prefer their festivals to be named.

But respect must work both ways. We should not belittle another community’s language or demand that people abandon expressions rooted in family, heritage, and memory.

We must also distinguish genuine courtesy from compulsory conformity. It is courteous to ask how someone prefers to be addressed or to learn the name a community uses for its celebration. It is unreasonable to assume that every traditional expression is offensive simply because it is not universally shared.

Our multicultural identity is not built on having identical words for everything. It is built on understanding differences without feeling threatened by them.

Deepavali can co-exist with Diwali, Hari Raya with Lebaran, buka puasa with iftar, Kong Hei Fatt Choy with Gong Xi Fa Cai, and Merry Christmas with Happy Holidays.

Cultural pride should give us the confidence to cherish our own traditions while making room for others. If we can share our homes, food, friendships, and celebrations, surely we can accommodate different names for the same joy.

More importantly, Malaysia’s tradition of holding open houses during festive occasions remains one of our greatest strengths. Malaysians of different ethnicities and faiths visit one another, share meals, and celebrate together.

We do not need to turn every festival greeting into a religious or ideological debate. Sometimes, all it takes is common sense and a willingness to appreciate one another as fellow Malaysians.

Our country has long shown that people can live together without speaking, praying, or celebrating in exactly the same way. We should not allow excessive sensitivity to turn every greeting into a test of political correctness.

Good manners are not about finding one approved phrase for everyone. They are about understanding the person, the occasion, and the goodwill behind the words.

In Malaysia, we do not need to speak exactly the same language to understand one another. Sometimes, the most Malaysian response is also the simplest: smile, say thank you, and wish one another well.

After all, whatever names we use for our festivals, the spirit remains the same. We are Malaysians celebrating together, sharing goodwill, and embracing the goodness that brings us closer.

Danger on the roads: A file photo provided by the police of a round-up of motorcycle riders caught performing stunts near in George Town. — PDRM Penang

IT used to be just a small group of young men speeding down the road on their roaring motorcycles – but now, it seems to have grown monstrously.

Last week, Penang police had to break up a large illegal street racing event near the Butterworth Outer Ring Road toll plaza in Bagan Ajam.

A large-scale operation was carried out after viral social media videos showed a massive crowd of mat rempit. They reportedly blocked the highway toll exit with their bikes to turn the public road into a makeshift racing circuit. The illegal blockade forced heavy vehicles like lorries to slam on their brakes, disrupting traffic and causing severe safety risks.

In April, a group of mat rempit in Kota Baru turned the flyover ramp of the newly upgraded Sultan Ismail Petra Airport into an illegal racing track.

While these are obviously illegal gatherings, Malaysians have also noticed large scale “convoys”, or sanctioned motorcycle rides, led by politicians.

No one argues against convoys that have received the approvals of the respective authorities, including the police.

But there have been fatal accidents.

In July, four riders died in a crash involving 12 motorcycles and a car on the East Coast Highway near the Jabor toll plaza in Kuantan.

They were reportedly travelling towards Kemaman, Terengganu, for a RXZ members gathering (RXZ refers to the Yamaha RX-Z motorcycle model).

In August, five participants died in separate road accidents while travelling to or returning from the RXZ members 7.0 gathering in Terengganu.

The event attracted thousands of motorcycle enthusiasts. Obvi-ously, there is an attraction among Malaysia’s young voters for motorcycle convoys.

But there is something seriously wrong when politicians, who should be setting examples of responsible behaviour, choose to court popularity by organising or joining motorcycle convoys without giving sufficient attention to the message they are sending.

The sight of a politician surrounded by hundreds of motorcyclists may make for an impressive photograph.

The roar of engines, the cheering crowds, and the spectacle of motorcycles moving together can create an atmosphere of excitement. For a politician seeking public attention, it is an opportunity that’s difficult to resist.

But beyond the photographs and social media postings, a more fundamental question needs to be asked: What exactly are these politicians promoting?

Are they encouraging responsible riding, road safety, and constructive engagement with young people? Or are they simply exploiting the appeal of the mat rempit culture for political mileage ahead of the general election?

This is not an argument against motorcyclists. Far from it.

Millions of Malaysians depend on motorcycles for their daily commute, while many young people have a genuine passion for motorcycles, engines, and motorsports. They deserve respect, opportunities, and the right to pursue their interests safely.

We must also be careful not to label every young motorcyclist a mat rempit. Not everyone who joins a convoy is involved in illegal racing, dangerous stunts, or traffic offences.

There is a clear distinction between celebrating motorcycle culture and appearing to glamorise behaviour associated with reckless riding, illegal street racing, and a disregard for traffic laws.

Politicians, of all people, should know the difference.

More importantly, they should understand that their public appearances carry a responsibility that goes beyond the immediate excitement of an event.

Malaysia has spent years trying to educate road users about the dangers of reckless riding. Road safety campaigns warn against speeding, dangerous manoeuvres, and the failure to wear helmets.

Families have lost sons and daughters in road accidents, while survivors have had to live with permanent injuries.

Motorcyclists are particularly vulnerable because they have little physical protection when an accident occurs. A moment of recklessness can destroy not only the rider’s future but also the lives of family members who depend on them.

Against this backdrop, politicians should be sending an unmistakable message: Obey the law, respect other road users, and never put lives at risk for entertainment, excitement, or public attention.

Instead, there are political leaders who enthusiastically associate themselves with motorcycle gatherings without making responsible riding a clear priority.

These politicians risk sending precisely the wrong signal. It is not enough to insist that an event is merely a community engagement programme.

Last month, a political party even added a religious twist to its massive motor convoy by claiming it was aimed at propagating faith.

The public is entitled to examine the circumstances, the conduct being encouraged, and the example being set.

If politicians want to reach out to young motorcyclists, they should do so by promoting discipline, providing opportunities, and addressing their concerns. They should not depend on the spectacle of a convoy to create an impression of popularity.

Unfortunately, this sort of political theatre has become increasingly familiar.

A politician turns up at an event, is greeted enthusiastically by a crowd, poses for photographs, perhaps climbs onto a motorcycle, and leaves with a collection of images suitable for social media platforms.

The message is simple: Look at how popular I am; look at how many young people support me.

But popularity is not the same as good leadership, and a large crowd is not proof that a politician has earned the public’s trust.

The problem with politics built around such spectacles is that it rewards immediate visibility rather than meaningful results.

Politicians cannot tell young people to obey the law on Monday and then appear indifferent to the same issue when seeking their support on the weekend.

It would be good if politicians use such gatherings to promote helmet use, road discipline, and community safety, and not merely to “ride” a wave of popularity.

If the principal attraction is the political spectacle, then the exercise deserves greater scrutiny.

Where are the politicians when the cameras are gone? The real test begins when the engines stop and the cameras are switched off.

What have these politicians actually done for the young people whose company they so eagerly seek?

These are fair questions, not an attempt to deny politicians the right to engage with any section of society.

Young people should not be treated as a convenient audience that can be mobilised whenever a politician needs to demonstrate grassroots support.

They are citizens with real problems, ambitions, and expectations. They deserve more than an occasional appearance by an elected representative.

For some, motorcycles are simply a means of getting to work. For others, they represent an affordable hobby or a possible career.

A minority may be drawn into illegal racing because of peer pressure, the excitement of speed, or the desire for recognition.

The motivations are not all the same, and the solutions cannot be reduced to blanket condemnation.

Neither can the problems be solved by politicians who choose to flatter young people without challenging behaviour that endangers them and others.

A responsible leader must be prepared to tell a crowd what it needs to hear, not merely what it wants to hear. That includes reminding riders that public roads are not racing circuits, that dangerous stunts are not a demonstration of courage, and that no politician’s presence gives anyone permission to break the law.

Politicians must also recognise that public perception matters. Their actions can legitimise an activity, influence behaviour, and communicate priorities, whether or not that is their stated intention.

If they want to participate in motorcycle events, they should make their commitment to road safety visible and unmistakable.

They should also be quick to condemn dangerous behaviour regardless of whether or not the offenders are their supporters.

Ordinary Malaysians who drive home after work, parents taking their children to school, and pedestrians crossing busy roads have every right to expect that public safety will not be com­promised for a politician’s publicity.

That is a far more constructive approach than treating motorcycle convoys as political rallies in disguise.

Ultimately, the measure of a successful motorcycle event should not be the number of engines roaring down the road, the size of the crowd, or the number of views generated on social media. It should be whether the event promotes responsible riding, strengthens community ties, and leaves participants with a better understanding of their responsibilities.

There is nothing wrong with a politician wanting to connect with young people. Politicians are free to ride alongside the people they represent. But they must also be prepared to lead them in the right direction.

A convoy may generate publicity for a politician. But it takes a real leader to ensure that young Malaysians do not become casualties of a culture of recklessness – or victims of political expediency.

Speedy thrills: Eventual race winner Max Verstappen leading the field at the start of the race in Sepang on Oct 4. Will the thrill continue if Malaysia begins hosting F1 regularly again? — GLENN GUAN/The Star

THE excitement after the spectacular race at Sepang is understandable, but before Malaysia welcomes Formula 1 back on a permanent basis, we need to know whether the numbers add up.

After nine years away from the F1 calendar, Sepang once again became the centre of international motorsport attention when it hosted the Bahrain Grand Prix from Oct 2 to 4.

The roar of the engines, the excitement of the crowd and the sight of the world’s best drivers battling it out at Sepang brought back wonderful memories for Malaysians.

The race delivered a spectacle, drew an unprecedented crowd, reportedly over 200,000, and reminded us why this circuit remains one of the finest in the region.

There is little doubt that F1 has not lost its appeal among Malaysians. The atmosphere was electric, and the sight of fans filling the grandstands was encouraging for everyone who wants to see Sepang retake its place on the international sporting stage.

But before we allow ourselves to be swept away by the euphoria, we need to take a deep breath.

A successful race weekend does not automatically make a commercially viable annual event. That is the distinction we must make as discussions gather pace over the possibility of bringing F1 back to Malaysia permanently.

After witnessing the enthusiasm at Sepang, it is easy to conclude that Malaysia should seize the opportunity before it disappears.

The temptation is understandable but let’s not let our euphoria affect our thinking.

A major sporting event is not simply about the excitement it generates over three days. It is also about the financial commitments that come with it, year after year.

And F1 is an expensive business.

Sepang International Circuit chief executive officer Azhan Shafriman Hanif has estimated that Malaysia would need to spend at least RM300mil annually to secure a permanent place on the F1 calendar, including hosting rights and local preparations.

That is a substantial sum, particularly when the government must balance competing demands on public finances at a time it is cutting its spending.

Malaysia’s previous experience should also serve as a reminder.

The country hosted the Malay-sian Grand Prix from 1999 until 2017, when the race was dropped because the costs had become difficult to justify against the returns.

We have been down this road before. We should not assume that the economics have suddenly changed simply because the crowds returned for a weekend.

There is, of course, an important difference between the recent Bahrain Grand Prix and a regular Malaysian Grand Prix. Bahrain bore the hosting rights fees for the Oct 2-4 event, while Malaysia paid for local preparations, estimated at between RM10mil and RM16mil.

In other words, this was not a test of whether Malaysia can bear the full financial burden of hosting an annual F1 race.

It was an opportunity to demonstrate that Sepang could deliver a major international event at short notice, attract fans, and provide a venue capable of meeting the sport’s demanding requirements.

It was a valuable achievement. But it is not the same as proving that a permanent return would pay for itself.

The distinction matters because the headline figures can be misleading. Estimates that a race could generate more than RM1bil in economic activity are certainly encouraging. Hong Leong Investment Bank Research has put the potential economic output of the October event at between RM1.1bil and RM1.3bil.

However, economic output is not the same as revenue collected by the government, or profit earned by the circuit.

A hotel room booked by a foreign visitor, a meal purchased at a restaurant, and a taxi ride taken during race weekend all contribute to economic activity.

But the government does not receive the entire value of those transactions. Businesses incur their own costs, while some of the spending would have taken place in Malaysia even without the race.

We need to distinguish between gross economic impact, direct commercial revenue, tax receipts, and the actual financial return on public expenditure. These are not interchangeable figures.

Malaysian Investment Development Authority chairman and senior political adviser to the Prime Minister Tengku Datuk Seri Zafrul Abdul Aziz rightly said that while Sepang remains a world-class circuit, a return cannot rely on prestige alone.

He asked for the government to carefully weigh the high hosting costs against the actual economic return on investment.

“Can we make F1 profitable enough for Malaysia?” he said, asking everyone to look at the broader economic returns.

Perhaps the burden of hosting an F1 race in Malaysia should not just be shouldered by the government but also by corporate and private entities who can support the event.

A proper cost-benefit analysis must therefore go beyond the number of spectators or the estimated value of tourism spending.

It must establish how much money Malaysia can realistically earn, how much it must spend, and who ultimately benefits.

Ticket sales, corporate hospitality, sponsorship, broadcasting, and commercial partnerships must all be examined.

So must hotel occupancy, airline bookings, visitor spending, and the number of tourists who come to Malaysia specifically because of the race.

Just as importantly, the analysis must identify how much of that spending represents genuinely additional economic activity rather than expenditure that would have occurred anyway.

There are also costs that may not be immediately obvious to the public.

These include circuit upgrades, safety requirements, transport arrangements, traffic management, security, staffing, logistics, and other operational expenses. We must also consider the cost of tying up public funds that could be used for other priorities.

A five-year hosting commitment at RM300mil annually would amount to RM1.5bil before allowing for any additional costs or changes in expenditure. That is not a small undertaking.

The government must be satisfied that the benefits justify such a commitment, rather than relying on optimistic projections or the assumption that a prestigious event will inevitably bring prosperity.

None of this means that Malaysia should abandon its ambition to host world-class sporting events. F1 offers international exposure, attracts a global audience, and can help promote Malaysia as a destination for tourism, business, and investment.

The event can also support local businesses, create employment, and inspire a new generation of motorsport enthusiasts. Sepang has an established reputation, and the recent race has shown that there remains considerable interest in the sport in Malaysia.

We must also be realistic about the extraordinary circumstances surrounding the Bahrain Grand Prix in Malaysia. The event was a one-off arrangement following the cancellation of the original race in Bahrain amid the conflict in the Middle East.

The novelty of seeing F1 back at Sepang after nine years, coupled with the unusual circumstances of the event helped generate considerable interest.

Can the same attendance figures be sustained every year?

Will international visitors continue to arrive in similar numbers once the novelty wears off?

We should also examine the practical lessons from the race. The large crowds demonstrated the circuit’s appeal, but reports of transport difficulties highlighted the need to improve the overall spectator experience.

A successful event must be judged not only by what happens on the track, but also by how efficiently people can get there, move around, and return home.

If Malaysia is serious about hosting F1 again, these issues must be addressed as part of a comprehensive business plan.

There is another consideration: competition.

Malaysia is not the only country interested in hosting F1. Other venues are competing for places on a crowded calendar, and any return of the race in Malaysia would depend on securing a slot as well as negotiating acceptable commercial terms.

We cannot assume that the opportunity will automatically be available, nor should we agree to unfavourable terms simply because we fear losing out to another country.

An independent assessment would help separate genuine returns from promotional claims. It would also provide a sound basis for comparing F1 with other major sporting and tourism events that Malaysia could host with the same resources.

But we should not confuse caution with a lack of ambition.

A country can be proud of its sporting achievements while remaining disciplined about public expenditure.

Ultimately, the question is not whether Malaysians want F1 back. The recent race has shown that many clearly do.

The question is whether Malaysia can afford to host it year after year, whether the returns justify the costs, and whether the benefits will reach the wider economy and the public.

Let us enjoy the spectacle, celebrate Sepang’s success and welcome the renewed international attention. But before we sign a long-term contract, let us make sure the numbers add up.

When it comes to spending public money, enthusiasm is welcome. Euphoria, however, must never replace sound judgement.

Tipping point: A bus carrying Myanmar nationals being repatriated from Malaysia seen heading toward to navel base in Lumut. —AFP

IT’S a problem that has been festering for far too long. Now, Malaysia has reached a point where we can no longer avoid having an honest conversation about illegal immigrants and refugees living and working in the country.

We already have more than 200,000 UN-registered refugees and maybe tens of thousands more unregistered ones. The Government’s decision to begin repatriating Myanmar nationals who are willing and eligible to return home is therefore understandable and deserves to be supported.

It is part of the basic responsibility of any government to manage its borders, enforce immigration laws and determine who has the right to remain in the country.

The first group of 1,476 Myanmar nationals has been repatriated under a wider programme involving 5,000 people. The Government has stressed that that the process is voluntary and will be carried out in coordination with Myanmar.

That distinction matters.

Myanmar refugees getting on board Myanmar’s naval ship UMS Moattama for their journey home. — Bernama

Malaysia can be compassionate without abandoning immigration control. We can be humane without allowing our immigration policies to become meaningless.

For years, Malaysia has opened its doors to people fleeing war, persecution and poverty. We have done so even without being a signatory to the 1951 UN Refugee Convention.

The burden has nevertheless grown enormously as the birth rate of certain ethnic groups exploded. As of February this year, UNHCR figures showed some 215,600 refugees and asylum seekers registered in Malaysia, including about 193,800 from Myanmar.

Of these, around 126,000 are Rohingya, which has resulted in a great deal of unhappiness among many Malaysians regardless of race and religion.

The continuous presence of many foreign beggars at tourist spots especially around the prime Bukit Bintang area – and the inability of the authorities to stop them – has angered many Malaysians.

Without a doubt, behind every statistic is a complicated human story. Some came because they were escaping persecution. Others came because Malaysia offered jobs and economic opportunities.

Some have legal documents, some have refugee documentation, while others have fallen outside the system altogether.

This is precisely why we need a proper distinction between refugees, asylum seekers, legal foreign workers and undocumented migrants.

They cannot all be treated as one. The most difficult question, of course, concerns the Rohingya.

Social media is full of videos from netizens complaining about their lifestyles and inability to live with their Malaysian neighbours, especially in the Selayang area.

There is a growing rumbling among Malaysians that those who have been here for years should be returned home to Myanmar.

That is understandable from the perspective of a country struggling to manage a large foreign population. But saying that people should return is much easier than making it happen.

Myanmar has historically refused to recognise the Rohingya as citizens, and the conditions in Rakhine State remain deeply complicated.

The United Nations refugee agency has also warned that Myanmar remains unsafe and that any return must be voluntary, informed, safe and dignified.

If Malaysia wants the Rohingya to return, the question is not simply whether Kuala Lumpur wants them to go.

The question is whether Naypyidaw will genuinely accept them back, whether they will have a place to return to, whether they will be safe and whether there will be an international mechanism to monitor their return.

Without those conditions, forced repatriation would simply move a humanitarian problem from one country to another.

That does not mean Malaysia has to accept an open-ended refugee policy either. It means we need a realistic policy. Malaysia cannot become a permanent settlement for refugees from every regional conflict.

Our politicians have to be blamed. They were the ones who welcomed them, believing that playing the “Muslim brotherhood” narrative would win them votes.

In 2016, then-Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak and PAS president Tan Sri Abdul Hadi Awang attended a solidarity rally in Kuala Lumpur to express support for the Rohingya.

Decades later, it has backfired badly, and these politicians washed their hands of this fiasco.

At the same time, we cannot simply deport people to places where they may face genuine danger, or even death.

There is a middle ground: registration, screening, temporary protection, work rights where appropriate, strict enforcement against criminal activity, and eventually a credible pathway towards voluntary return when conditions permit.

The same principle should apply to foreign workers. Malaysia has benefited enormously from foreign labour. Our plantations, construction sites, factories, restaurants and other industries have relied on workers from countries such as Bangladesh, Pakistan, Indonesia, Nepal and Myanmar.

And we should acknowledge an important fact: many of these workers are here legally. The Immigration Department lists Bangladesh and Pakistan among approved source countries for foreign workers, subject to the relevant rules and quotas.

So, the issue should not be about nationality but neither should we dismiss the discomfort felt by ordinary Malaysians when they see large concentrations of foreign workers in their neighbourhoods, public spaces and businesses.

That discomfort needs to be understood, rather than immediately dismissed as xenophobia.

There is a difference between saying “we don’t want foreigners” and saying “we need better control of the number, location and conditions of foreign workers”.

Malaysia needs foreign workers in certain sectors. But such labour should supplement our workforce, not become an excuse for employers to avoid investing in productivity, automation and better wages for Malaysians.

The Government therefore has to manage both sides of this equation: the needs of business and the concerns of citizens.

Legal workers must be treated properly and paid according to the law. Employers must be responsible for their workers. Recruitment agents must be properly regulated.

And when employment ends, repatriation must actually take place rather than leaving people stranded or slipping into the undocumented economy.

Our own immigration rules already require employers to ensure that foreign workers are repatriated when their employment ends, through the proper channels.

The bigger issue is enforcement. For too long, Malaysia’s immigration debate has swung between two extremes – complete tolerance on one side and blanket hostility on the other but neither approach works. We need a grown-up immigration policy.

For the Rohingya, Malaysia will need diplomacy, not slogans. If Myanmar is eventually prepared to accept them and create genuine safe conditions, voluntary return should be part of the solution.

The problem now is that no one wants the Rohingya. Myanmar does not want them as they are not recognised as its citizens.

Western countries which may criticise the repatriation do not qualify to take a strong stand against us – they are welcome to take in the Rohingya to walk the talk.

But until then, Malaysia needs to manage the reality in front of us. We cannot permanently carry the refugee burden for the region and pretend that immigration controls do not matter.

Malaysia can remain a compassionate country while also being a country with borders, laws and limits.

That is not a contradiction. It is what a responsible country is supposed to be. However, patience among many Malaysians is running thin.

Stability is key: The endless politicking in Malaysia might be welcomed as a little spice across the Causeway but spice is not what attracts investors, it’s predictability, says the columnist. — THOMAS YONG/The Star

MALAYSIAN news companies are used to getting calls from their counterparts in Singapore looking for content they can use to help fill up their pages, especially when the more exciting news comes from across the Causeway.

For the past few weeks, news breaks have taken place at a swift pace – from the constitutional crisis in Negri Sembilan to the house arrest decision for Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak, which has sparked a national debate.

Umno, a main component partner in the Federal Government, has also been posturing and taking a different approach on several issues.

Last week, the Negri Sembilan palace sacked the entire state executive council at almost midnight. Before that, Mentri Besar Datuk Ismail Lasim announced the state exco endorsed a disputed proclamation to remove Yang di-Pertuan Besar Tuanku Muhriz Tuanku Munawir, though the MB had earlier claimed he signed that document under duress.

And before the week was out, the neighbouring Melaka state government announced the dissolution of the state assembly.

So Malaysians will now see an election coming up – just a month after the Negri Sembilan state polls.

It’s an endless round of politicking in Malaysia, with which we can expect the usual unproductive rhetoric with divisive race and religious narratives.

Seriously, Malaysia could do with being a little more boring.

Perhaps we need to learn an uncomfortable lesson: Being boring is not necessarily a bad thing.

In fact, when it comes to attracting investors, boring can be downright good. Investors are not tourists. They don’t come here looking for excitement, drama, or a political plot twist every few weeks.

They are looking for something much less glamorous: political stability. Investors don’t want to spend their time talking to political leaders to secure a deal only to see the leaders they talked to losing their jobs.

So with the uncertainties ahead of a general election that will possibly take place a year from now, no one should be surprised if investors decide to put their plans on hold.

As always, the losers are the rakyat.

They want to know what the rules are today, what they are likely to be tomorrow and, preferably, what they will look like five years from now.

They do not want surprises, especially when we have PAS leaders talking of changing and discarding tested laws simply because they date back to the colonial era.

Our legal system has worked well and that is our asset. When businessmen sign deals, they know they can trust the legal system if they need to seek redress, unlike in Cambodia, Indonesia, Thailand, or Vietnam where the systems are different.

Malaysia has done remarkably well in attracting investments, particularly in the electrical and electronics, data centre, semiconductor, and digital sectors.

Bank Negara Malaysia has said that strong fundamentals, a deep production ecosystem, and supportive policies are sustaining investor confidence.

But we should not take that confidence for granted. The global investment landscape is becoming more competitive.

Countries are fighting for the same factories, data centres, technology companies, talent, and billions of ringgit in capital.

And investors have choices. They can ask very simple questions: Is the government stable? Are policies consistent? Can regulations be understood?

Will a decision made today still be valid tomorrow? Can I plan my business without having to read the political tea leaves every morning? These are not unreasonable questions.

Singapore has built much of its economic reputation around precisely these qualities. Its economic agencies point to political stability, transparent institutions, and a pro-business environment as important reasons global companies use it as a regional hub.

There is a reason why Singapore can sometimes appear, well, boring.

The trains arrive on time, the airport works efficiently, the rules are clear, government agencies tend to know what they are doing – and investors seem to like this kind of boring.

A recent assessment by global management consulting firm Kearney placed Singapore eighth in its 2026 FDI Confidence Index, reflecting the investment intentions of more than 500 senior executives from major international companies.

Singapore’s stable regulatory environment and efficient business processes were cited among its strengths.

Never mind if the politicians are extremely boring and most people cannot remember their names. The Singapore press can’t even call up their ministers directly unlike in Malaysia.

Malaysia, of course, has something Singapore doesn’t have in the same abundance: space, natural resources, a large domestic market, a sizable workforce, manufacturing expertise, and enormous potential.

We don’t need to become Singapore but perhaps we could learn to be a little more predictable. That does not mean Malaysia should stop reforming.

Reforms are necessary. Some old policies need to be removed. Some new ones must be introduced. Inefficiencies have to be tackled and difficult decisions cannot always be postponed simply because they are politically inconvenient.

But there is a difference between reform and constant uncertainty.

What worries businesses is not necessarily change itself. It is the possibility of having to change direction every time there is a new political development.

Malaysia sometimes behaves as though every policy announce-ment must have a little drama attached to it. We debate, counter-debate, clarify, clarify the clarification, then someone says the clarification was misunderstood.

By then, the investor has probably gone for lunch, or worse, flown out of KLIA.

This is where the government’s emphasis on political stability matters.

Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim himself recently said political stability is crucial to maintaining Malaysia as a trusted investment destination, arguing that investors need confidence in stability before committing funds, according to Bernama.

Bank Negara has made a similar point, noting that policy consistency and strong economic fundamentals support investor confidence.

Importantly, Malaysia has re-entered Kearney’s Index after an absence of 12 years – and at a very respectable 21st spot. Perhaps that’s because we’ve had a relatively calm four years until now. For sure, we cannot change PMs four times in five years.

So perhaps the message for Malaysia is quite simple: Slow down.

We need to take a breather. Not every political disagreement needs to become a national crisis. Not every policy needs to be reinvented. Not every government announcement needs to produce a counter-announcement before lunchtime.

Don’t change rules regularly or, worse, overnight.

Sometimes, the best thing a government can do for business is simply to let businesses get on with business.

Sometimes the most reassuring government announcement is the least exciting one: “The policy remains unchanged and if it is no good, just cancel it.” And there is nothing wrong in making a reversal if it helps.

Boring speeches and statements may not generate many headlines but they might generate jobs. Malaysia does not need to become dull. We should remain energetic, innovative and ambitious. But perhaps our politics could become a little less theatrical, and our policymaking a little more predictable.

We have enough drama in the world already. News organisations here are getting tired of politicians who shoot off their mouths with mindless racist remarks.

Investors are not asking Malaysia to be perfect. They are asking whether they can trust the ground beneath their feet.

And if being a little boring helps to provide that confidence, perhaps boring is exactly what we need right now. After all, there are worse things for a country to be known for than being predictable.