Author Archives: wcw

Placing people over pageantry

By scaling down Tuanku’s Silver Jubilee and Sukma 2026, the Sultan of Selangor champions discipline and humility in the face of economic uncertainty.

THE call by His Royal Highness Sultan Sharafuddin Idris Shah for a measured and prudent approach to Sukma 2026, the Malaysia Games, is not only timely but deeply responsible.

At a time when economic headwinds and global uncertainties continue to cast a long shadow, the Sultan of Selangor has rightly reminded us that the essence of Sukma lies in sport.

There is no need to make a spectacle of Sukma, which Selangor is hosting in August, because it is not the Olympics, the Commonwealth Games, or the Asian Games.

Surely, there is no need to splash for the biennial national multi-sport event.

The national sports event has been around for 40 years and is rightly an important event in the national sports calendar, as it is a platform to nurture young Malaysian athletes and select them for the South-East Asia (SEA) Games.

It is essential to identify future national athletes and build unity through healthy competition.

They are not meant to mirror the extravagance of mega-events like the Olympics or Asian Games. Sukma is a platform for athletes, not politicians.

When priorities are clear, then there is no need for lavish opening ceremonies, grandiose displays, and costly fanfare. Sukma is a sports event, not a concert or a performance.

For too long, there has been a tendency – not just in sports, but across public events – to equate success with scale.

Bigger stages, flashier per formances, and higher budgets are often seen as symbols of prestige.

Unfortunately, the reality is every ringgit spent on fireworks and pageantry is a ringgit that could have gone into athlete development, training facilities, or grassroots programmes.

The Sultan’s call for prudence is therefore a call for discipline – fiscal discipline, yes, but also conceptual discipline.

Tuanku himself has led by example. He has called off the 2026 edition of the Sultan of Selangor Cup between Selangor and Singapore due to high costs and the uncertainties in the Middle East.

He had also earlier suggested postponing the 2026 Sukma Games but has consented to the event’s proceeding in Selangor, which is the host, in August with specific cost-saving measures.

The Sultan of Selangor has also decreed that the celebration for his Silver Jubilee (25th anniversary of his reign) be significantly scaled down due to economic challenges and to prioritise the people’s welfare.

The cancelled events included a royal banquet, fireworks and public concerts, with saved funds redirected to the Sultan Selangor Foundation and other charities to support those in need, rather than festivities.

A modest Sukma opening ceremony does not diminish the spirit of the Games; if anything, it reinforces the idea that the real stars are the athletes, not the stage.

Malaysians are increasingly mindful of how money is spent. Importantly, prudence does not mean compromising quality.

Competitions can still be well-organised, venues functional, and athletes well-supported – all without unnecessary extravagance.

The people of Selangor have the right to know how their money will be used.

Naturally, the games will be sponsored by allocations from the state and federal governments, but ultimately, it is the taxpayers’ money.

We would want to know the adjusted budget, where the allocations go, and whether they are justifiable.

The Sultan of Selangor has done more than set a tone for one sporting event.

He has set a standard for how we should approach public spending – with humility, clarity of purpose, and a firm eye on what truly matters.

Real unity is by the roadside

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.

Social media and the hijacking of facts

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.

Defence Services Asia show returns

Gandhi: The timing and success of DSA 2026 is important as the world faces strong headwinds, especially those in the convention and exhibition trade.

THE return of the three-day Defence Services Asia (DSA) exhibition to Kuala Lumpur beginning April 20 is more than just another date on the calendar of global defence shows – it is a strategic signal of Malaysia’s relevance in an increasingly uncertain world.

Its importance is often overlooked because it is not seen as a business or tourism event but in reality it is actually both.

Over the decades, since its inception in 1998, the biennial gathering has attracted over 15,000 participating companies, 600,000 trade visitors, 90,000 international visitors and 7,000 foreign VIP delegations.

DSA has long been one of Asia’s most established defence and security exhibitions, drawing policymakers, military leaders and industry players from across the globe.

There is a personal interest here as a war-movie buff.

I have always looked forward to the DSA show as this is the only opportunity for me to see armoured vehicles, drones, naval vessel models, arms, ammunition, specialised troop equipment and others.

The fact that it is not opened to the public, for security reasons, makes it even more special for me as a journalist.

It has facilitated billions of dollars in defence and security deals. The benefit to Malaysia is enormous with a multi-million-ringgit spinoff from the passenger service charge, exhibition and financial services, hotels, logistics and transport, as well as tax revenues.

For Malaysia, DSA is not about flexing military muscle. It is about positioning.

As a nation that has consistently championed neutrality and multilateralism, Malaysia offers something increasingly rare – a credible, moderate voice that can engage all sides.

The presence of delegations from diverse geopolitical camps under one roof reflects this trust.

This year, 62 countries will take it up – they include the United States, China, Turkiye, Russia, Iran and Ukraine, of which 38 are official national pavilions.

This year, the seven largest country pavilions will come from Turkiye, China, the United Arab Emirates, Italy, the United States, India and South Korea.

Defence exhibitions today are as much about industry as they are about security.

From aerospace to cybersecurity, the defence sector drives high-value investments, technology transfer and skilled employment.

For Malaysian companies, DSA opens doors to partnerships that would otherwise take years to cultivate. For foreign investors, it provides a window into Malaysia’s growing capabilities as a regional hub for maintenance, repair and overhaul, as well as advanced manufacturing.

There is also a quieter, often overlooked aspect – diplomacy. In the corridors of such exhibitions, conversations take place that seldom make headlines.

Defence officials who may not otherwise meet, find common ground in shared concerns: maritime security, counter-terrorism, humanitarian assistance and disaster relief.

For Malaysia, we have built a reputation for our neutrality. Trust-building is essential, these informal engagements matter.

Critics may question the optics of a defence exhibition at a time when parts of the world are engulfed in conflict.

But engagement should not be mistaken for endorsement. Platforms like DSA allow nations to better understand evolving technologies and doctrines, and more importantly, to ensure that their own security preparedness is not left behind.

“When geopolitical tensions arise and leisure demand becomes more vulnerable to shifts in sentiment, governments need dependable drivers of visitor economy activity. Business events provide that resilience.

“The timing and success of DSA 2026 is important as the world faces strong headwinds, especially those in the convention and exhibition trade. People travel for business with clear commercial objectives, and trade exhibitions, in particular, help protect hotel demand, air connectivity, urban spending, jobs and small and medium enterprises livelihoods.

“At the same time, they create a platform for investment promotion, trade expansion, knowledge exchange and international partnership building,’’ said Datuk Dr M Gandhi, the president of the Malaysian Association of Convention and Exhibition Organisers and Supplies.

More importantly, by hosting DSA, Malaysia is not choosing sides – it is choosing relevance, readiness and responsible engagement in a world that is becoming anything but predictable.

Politics Needs To Wait As Malaysia Faces Oil Crisis

KUALA LUMPUR, April 12 (Bernama) — The country is in a crisis mode.

That’s a reality and the government, to its credit, has not tried to sugar coat the situation by pretending all is well and fine because it isn’t.

The ceasefire between the United States and Iran is a welcome relief but it is only temporary and conditional.

A lot will depend on the outcome of the negotiations but even if the Strait of Hormuz reopens to all ships, it will take months before normalcy sets in.

Lale Akoner, a global market analyst at financial services company eToro, was quoted on CNN as saying that it could take six months to get ship traffic back to where it was before the war began.

These are situations beyond our control. Malaysia is spending RM6 billion a month to keep our fuel prices low.

Obviously, this cannot go on but more worrisome will be whether ample supplies will continue, so we would not want to see petrol stations closed or motorists having to camp at these outlets.

Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim has given his assurances that domestic fuel stocks remain sufficient to meet national demand through April and May.

But at a time when missiles are flying across the Middle East and oil routes are no longer guaranteed, the Prime Minister is right to remind Malaysians – especially our politicians – that the nation faces far bigger headwinds than partisan quarrels.

The implications are immediate and tangible: rising fuel costs, supply chain uncertainties, pressure on inflation, a weaker ringgit and even jobs lost.

Even Bank Negara has acknowledged that a prolonged conflict poses downside risks to growth despite current resilience.

The war has severely disrupted global supply chains – triggering shortages in plastic resin and essential medical supplies including plastic medical tubes, syringes and packaging materials. Major palm oil producers have been hit as there is now a critical shortage of fertilisers due to the strait blockage.

There is now a global shortage of bitumen essential for the construction and maintenance of roads as price surges as well as caused construction delays.

The government has had to take unusual measures – encouraging work-from-home arrangements to cut energy consumption and recalibrating national spending priorities. These are not routine policy tweaks. They are signs of a country bracing itself.

And yet, in the midst of this, our political discourse risks being hijacked by the familiar – endless manoeuvring, positioning, and speculation about elections.

There are seasoned politicians who question why the fuel prices have gone up – pretending to be oblivious to what has happened in Iran and the global impact.

One politician asked why the refineries in Terengganu are not enough to serve Malaysia, pretending to be unaware that we are an oil importer.

Politics thrives on immediacy – who said what, who gains advantage, who loses ground. But governance, especially in times of global crisis, demands focus, continuity and discipline. It is also a test on real leadership.

In times of crisis, we can sieve out politicians who can navigate us through the difficulties and the mediocre ones who merely speak unintelligently.

To his credit, Anwar has not merely sounded the alarm – he has acted. His phone diplomatic engagement has secured tangible outcomes, including safe passage for Malaysian vessels through a tense Strait of Hormuz. That is not abstract foreign policy – it is economic survival.

Malaysia can ill afford such political posturing now as we balance energy security, cost of living, trade and shipping issues, and maintain investor confidence.

Political instability at home, layered onto global uncertainty, is a recipe for capital flight. These are not issues that can be debated in campaign slogans or resolved in ceramah speeches, press statements or social media postings.

Our approach must continue to be measured, principled, and pragmatic – reflects an understanding that Malaysia must navigate carefully between global powers while safeguarding national interests.

Relentless political contestation now sends the message that some politicians are more preoccupied with Putrajaya than with protecting Malaysians from the economic aftershocks of war.

Expanding subsidies irresponsibly would widen the fiscal deficit, risk our credit standing, and ultimately undermine the very economic stability these politicians claim to defend.

Fuel prices in Malaysia do not exist in a vacuum as they are tied to global oil markets, which are now being shaken by conflict in one of the world’s most strategic energy corridors. When prices rise internationally, the government has only two choices: pass on the cost, or absorb it through subsidies.

If we fork out RM6 billion in subsidies, let’s not forget that they are drawn from national coffers which could have funded healthcare, education, infrastructure, and targeted assistance for the most vulnerable.

To shout “lower fuel prices” without acknowledging these trade-offs is unhelpful and irresponsible politics.

When diesel is more than just fuel

Power mode: The columnist on the way to Lusong Laku in Belaga, Sarawak, a few years ago. In Borneo 4WD vehicles are a vital form of transport. — Photos: GLENN GUAN/The Star

IT’S always difficult to explain to many Peninsular Malaysians why Sabah and Sarawak pay less for diesel while people on the peninsula face market-linked prices several times higher.

At first glance, the numbers provoke instinctive outrage.

Why should diesel in Sabah and Sarawak remain heavily subsidised at around RM2.15 per litre against RM6.72 per litre in the peninsula?

To many on this side of the country, it looks like preferential treatment. To those who understand the Bornean states, though, it is anything but.

It would not be wrong to suggest that many Peninsular Malaysians have even not visited the two states. After all, air fares aren’t cheap.

Even among those who have visited, most would never have set foot outside of Kota Kinabalu or Kuching.

They probably wouldn’t have gone to the interiors. They can’t be faulted for that; there are no reasons for them to do so.

However, the story of Sabah and Sarawak is not about inequality. It is a story about geography, necessity, and the realities of a country that is far more diverse than many urban Malaysians appreciate.

On a logging truck road in Belaga, where a regular car cannot go through.

We often grumble and whine about having to take a one-hour drive from Petaling Jaya to Cheras in Selangor. But in many areas in the two Bornean states, going from one place to another means travelling by car, boat, and then a long trek, or even taking a flight.

A 150km journey, the distance between Kuala Lumpur and Melaka, takes about 90 minutes by road in the peninsula. In Borneo, it could mean six hours on muddy and slippery roads.

On a sunny day, one is driving through a red dust storm; the moment it pours, that red earth turns into a dangerous slippery road.

Sabah-born The Star journalist Philip Golingai says: “Think about a villager from Tongod, right in the heart of Sabah, trying to get to Kota Kinabalu.

“It is a gruelling 280km trek that can easily take seven to nine hours depending on how much the earth has shifted that day.

“You don’t just drive to KK, you navigate. You need a 4WD just to tackle the ruts and the steep, muddy inclines of the interior.’’

In logging territories, especially in Sarawak, the drive is hazardous and it can mean an eight-hour journey or even an entire-day, with 4WD vehicles navigating rough and unpaved roads, or you’d have to take boats that connect riverine and coastal communities.

Trucks transport food, fuel, and essential goods across vast distances. As we know, such items are more expensive than in the peninsula.

The most fundamental misunderstanding lies here: in Sabah and Sarawak, diesel is not just another fuel option. It is the backbone of daily life.

The Federal Government has acknowledged that diesel is used “comprehensively” in these two states, which is why subsidy rationalisation for diesel has been confined to the peninsula.

It is not just transportation. In the peninsula, we just flick a switch on to power our electrical items.

In remote villages in Borneo, generators still supply the electricity. In many areas, there is simply no alternative. As policymakers have pointed out, “Nearly every boat and vehicle relies heavily on diesel’’ and certainly not on petrol.

Sabah and Sarawak are not just “bigger states”. They are geographically vast, sparsely populated, and infrastructurally uneven.

Diesel-powered boats are a vital, daily mode of transportation and economic activity in rural and interior Sarawak, particularly along rivers, for longhouse residents and farmers.

More than 5,000 villages are distributed across Sarawak, a state the size of the entire peninsula, and in Sabah, whose land mass also equals the size of the entire peninsula. Sabah is 90 times the size of Perlis.

The rural Keningau parliamentary seat in Sabah alone is larger than the states of Melaka, Penang, and Perlis combined.

What the people face there are not inconveniences. They are structural realities. As local leaders emphasise, diesel-powered vehicles – especially 4WDs – are “a necessity, not a luxury”.

Another factor often overlooked in the peninsula is logistics.

Much of the food, construction material, and consumer goods in Sabah and Sarawak are shipped from the peninsula.

Every step of that journey – by sea, road, or river – depends heavily on diesel.

If diesel prices were suddenly floated, transport costs would surge and prices of basic goods would rise astronomically, with rural communities being hit the hardest

The reality is that diesel subsidies help stabilise the cost of living in these regions, where incomes are generally lower and supply chains more fragile.

The call for uniform fuel pricing sounds fair in principle. In practice, it ignores unequal starting points.

Peninsular Malaysia benefits from dense highway networks, widespread access to petrol vehicles, more developed public transport systems, and better electricity grid coverage.

An MRT ride from Surian station in Petaling Jaya to Bukit Bintang, KL, costs just RM2 for a one-way ticket for this senior citizen. It would be unimaginable for our brethren across the South China Sea.

Sabah and Sarawak do not enjoy these advantages at the same scale. Attempting to impose identical fuel policies would not create equality – it would deepen inequality.

The government recognises this, noting that targeted subsidy mechanisms are harder to implement in the Bornean states due to the complexity of usage and access.

Urban Malaysians in Kuala Lumpur, Petaling Jaya, or Penang rarely encounter, nor understand, the disparities.

This is the rural reality which many of us never see. When a fisherman in Banggi, Sabah, or a villager in Ulu Baram, Sarawak, says diesel must remain affordable, it is not political rhetoric.

It is about survival – about getting to town, powering a home, or keeping food prices within reach.

Until infrastructure gaps narrow, until alternative energy sources are viable, and until rural connectivity improves, diesel in Sabah and Sarawak will remain more than just fuel.

The other reason for the heavy use of diesel is that 4WD vehicles and boats using the fuel run longer than petrol-powered ones, so it will always be regarded as an economical choice.

That basically explains why a “one Malaysia, one price” policy cannot work as we face the challenges of fuel price increases.

Rural Sabah and Sarawak are not the same as the highly urbanised peninsula.

Pos Malaysia and its social obligation

POS Malaysia has been in existence for over 200 years as a quiet infrastructure of nationhood – binding cities to villages, commerce to households, and government to citizens.

Its origins go back to the early 1800s during the British colonial period when postal services were first set up in the Straits Settlements.

The institution is older than the country although the current corporate structure is relatively modern but never before have the challenges become so untenable.

Pos Malaysia is navigating a near-perfect business storm: shrinking traditional revenues, rising operating costs, fierce private-sector competition, and an unrelenting obligation to serve every corner of the country.

Trying times

The numbers are not good with persistent losses. For the year 2025, it suffered a net loss of RM209mil with cumulative losses approaching RM1bil after eight years of losses.

Pos Malaysia is not a conventional commercial entity. It is a national utility operating under a Universal Service Obligation (USO) – a mandate to provide affordable postal services to all Malaysians, regardless of profitability.

In an era when letters are disappearing and logistics economics favour urban density, that mandate has become both its purpose and its burden.

To put it simply, it is mandatory for Pos Malaysia to continue serving on behalf of the government, amid the rising costs, stagnant tariff rate, and serving far-flung areas where other couriers refuse to deliver as it comes with high cost.

For example, it is a must for Pos Malaysia to send a mail to Pulau Malawali, Sabah, even after sorting it at the hub in Shah Alam.

It is then sent to the airport, fly the goods with huge cost of air transport and subsequently rent a boat to arrive at the island; all these with a meager charge of only 70 sen for mail or RM2 for a parcel of 500g.

As a comparison, even the highway toll within the city is already at RM2; even for a quick 4km ride. As a senior citizen, I merely have to pay RM2 for a one-way trip from Surian in PJ to Pavillion in the city by MRT.

As long as there are more and more addresses being created through residential, industrial and office building developments, it is mandatory for Pos Malaysia to service all these addresses and areas.

This means that more employees need to be recruited, losing the opportunity for postal companies to reduce cost of operations.

As of now, Pos Malaysia serves 11 million addresses on a daily basis and is also required to serve delivery to and from 236 countries. But there is also the human capital factor.

The front-line staff takes great pride and honour to wear the Pos Malaysia badge but 90% of Pos Malaysia’s 13,000 employees, with an estimated 70,000 households, are under the B40 category with some of them forced to undertake two jobs.

Pos Malaysia employees became one of the front-liners in the country, tasked to supply Covid-19 health kits to about 2.6 million people; especially to B40 households, delivering hazmat suits, face masks and vaccines to hospitals; amongst other essential goods.

And, part of the frontline’s responsibilities also includes playing the important role of handling the postal ballots during every general election; as commissioned by the Election Commission.

Certainly, the staff deserve performance rewards as they did their job the best they can. But due to the unaddressed regulatory imbalance affecting the postal sector, excluding token ex-gratia payment which was stopped two years ago, the last time bonus was paid to them was in 2018. Their company’s affordability to pay rewards has been significantly affected.

Current progression

Over the years, Pos Malaysia has progressed from a traditional postal service into a dynamic mail and parcel delivery services, postal counters service and supply chain solutions; with the largest touchpoint footprint in Malaysia.

But it is clearly not enough. Postal companies all over the world are facing challenges as they all carry the same obligation under the USO.

Even in advanced economies around the world, the postal companies are granted a Postal Service Fund irrespective of whether they are publicly listed, privately owned or government owned; because postal is deemed as a service to the country first before it is taken as a business.

The list includes the luminaries such as Deutsche Post, Poste Italiane, Royal Mail of UK, Japan Post, La Poste (France) to name a few and all these entities are privately owned or partly private.

In the United States, lawmakers debated over the extent of assistance to be granted to the United States Postal Service. The outcome in 2022 was a US$107bil financial assistance as lawmakers agreed that postal is first deemed as a “service” to the country rather than a “business” concern.

Last year, Canada Post received C$1.034bil as funding from the Canadian government.

Understandably, Pos Malaysia is also appealing to the government, pointing out the obligation for the government to set up a Postal Service Fund is enshrined in the Postal Services Act 2012; which the Dewan Rakyat approved 14 years ago.

Amongst others, the purpose of the fund is to expand and to facilitate USO activities throughout Malaysia.

Pos Malaysia has been arguing its case, pointing out that compensation for essential services have been in practice such as rural air services fund for MAS Wings to ensure connectivity to remote areas in Sabah and Sarawak, a function now transitioning from MASwings to the new state-owned Air Borneo as of January 2026, with federal funding committed to continue supporting these vital, often unprofitable, routes.

Then, there is the Universal Service Provision or USP for telecommunications companies (telcos) to ensure that telecommunication services including accessible and affordable Internet connectivity are accessible to as wide a population as possible; even though these telcos record high profits (in billions).

CESS fund is also allocated for Tenaga Nasional Bhd (TNB) fund where the government has provided financial assistance to TNB’s activities to ensure that electricity lines are accessible in rural areas, even though TNB records high profits.

The reality, however, is that the traditional postal model relied on high volumes of stamped mail to subsidise the cost of nationwide delivery.

That model has collapsed worldwide. Digital communication – email, messaging apps, e-billing, and e-government portals – has permanently reduced letter volumes. This is not a cyclical downturn; it is structural decline.

At the same time, while eCommerce has boosted parcel deliveries, this segment is intensely competitive.

Private courier companies operate with flexible cost structures and concentrate on profitable routes.

They can price aggressively because they are not required to serve sparsely populated rural interiors, islands, or remote highlands.

Now, the three online-shopping players, are oligopoly in their own right, control about 75% of parcel volume in Malaysia; with 80% of that volume being delivered using their own courier subsidiary companies.

Pos Malaysia has responded by creating a new business called “Pos Shop” as a convenient store in post-offices, expand into warehousing and fulfilment business under “Pos Fulfill”, create a freight-forwarding initiative mainly for global market called “redlyexpress”, including rationalisation of cost reduction via streamlining of some activities.

It is now even selling freshly brewed coffee or ice-cream at Pos Shop.

Supporting USO does not mean preserving inefficiency. It means redesigning the model so that public service obligations are transparently funded while commercial operations are modernised.

Possible measures include explicit government compensation for rural routes, periodic review of service standards, leveraging post offices as multi-service community hubs, strategic partnerships in eCommerce logistics and investment in digital tracking and automation.

Can and should Pos Malaysia be rescued as it slides into financial distress if conditions worsen?

Pos Malaysia is in a serious but not terminal condition: It has a nationwide network monopoly advantage, owns valuable assets, has growing parcel volumes and remains systemically important. But it cannot be expected to perform national duties without clear compensation.

It must also be remembered that in the balance sheet of nation-building, connectivity may be one of the most valuable assets of all.

A gentleman, a giant in legacy

A legacy: Dr Ling looking at the containers parked at the Klang Container Terminal (KCT) Yard after meeting officials in this file photo from Jan 28, 2000. He served for 17 years as the Transport Minister, turning Port Klang into a global player, which is today one of the highest-ranked ports in the world.

HE spoke in a soft, measured tone. Never loud but always firm and clear and often repeated himself so we understood his message.

That’s how most of us who covered Tun Dr Ling Liong Sik during his time as Transport Minister and MCA president as reporters will remember the Chinese community leader.

We didn’t need to use our voice recorder at his press conferences as he always carried himself with a calm and almost understated presence.

As a politician, he was not the loudest voice in the room, nor the quickest to offer a headline-grabbing quote.

Mark of respect: The MCA flag flying at half-mast at Wisma MCA in memory of Dr Ling. — FAIHAN GHANI/The Star

Often, he would respond with just a smile and give a short rebuttal when criticised by the opposition, especially the DAP.

As reporters, we were hungry for controversies, and often pressed him for sharp answers.

Dr Ling would listen, pause, and then respond in his characteristically composed manner – never evasive, but never inflammatory. It was his way of reminding us that governance was not theatre.

He will be known as the gentleman minister who preferred quiet work over noise.

But in his quiet ways, he founded and raised funds to set up Universiti Tunku Abdul Rahman (UTAR) for students from all walks of life.

The donations came from hawkers to tycoons and naturally the government.

Today, UTAR with its gleaming and sprawling campus in Kampar will always be synonymous with Dr Ling.

A massive fund-raising campaign by Dr Ling for TAR College generated RM30mil, which, when matched ringgit-for-ringgit by the government, resulted in RM60mil for infrastructure expansion.

Together with his wife, Toh Puan Ena Ling, his pillar and strength, they raised funds for many causes through the Caring and Sharing Choir Group at fund-raising dinners.

Dr Ling provided tertiary education opportunities to working-class Malaysian families who could not get a place in public universities or could not afford education in private universities.

He started his career as a medical doctor with a private practice in Butterworth, Penang.

Dr Ling served as the Member of Parliament for Mata Kuching, now known as Bagan, from 1974 to 1986.

Like many doctors, he had an elephant’s memory with the ability to remember details and names – which became an asset when he entered politics.

Qualities like patience, diagnosis and the importance of steady hands also came useful.

Grassroots members and reporters loved him for remembering their names when they first met.

He had many firsts as a politician. He served for 17 years as the Transport Minister, overseeing the construction of the Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA) and turning Port Klang into a global player, which is today one of the highest-ranked ports in the world.

It came at a time when Malaysia was building – airports, ports, highways – the infrastructure of a nation finding its economic footing.

Dr Ling was at the centre of that expansion, quietly overseeing decisions that would shape how Malaysians and goods moved for decades.

But what I remember most was not just his political or government works but the man himself.

He treated journalists with respect, even when the questions were uncomfortable.

Dr Ling never brushed off questions. He was never condescending or displayed irritation.

He opened the doors of his Bukit Damansara home to reporters, generously sharing his best whiskey with me and others.

Dr Ling was what we called “a banana” – yellow outside and white inside. Yet for someone who spent his years schooled in English education, he studied hard to improve his speech delivery in Mandarin.

Often before the annual party general assemblies, he would practise his presidential speech, written in pinyin, in front of a mirror – and on the actual day spoke in perfect Mandarin.

He studied Chinese classics to deepen his knowledge of Chinese history, realising his limitations.

As another “banana” myself, he shared what he read about Romance of The Three Kingdoms, one of the most popular books in East Asia for its traditional wisdom, war strategies, political manoeuvring and historical insights.

At one point, Dr Ling even promoted kong ming lanterns or sky lanterns, which was traditionally attributed to military strategist Zhuge Liang (181-234 AD), who is said to have used a message written on a sky lantern to summon help on an occasion when he was surrounded by enemy troops.

Dr Ling also achieved a rare distinction, which will probably never come up again. Not many Malaysians will remember that Dr Ling held the post of acting Barisan Nasional chairman for over 10 days in February 1988.

But like many leaders who serve long enough, his career was not without storms.

The Port Klang Free Zone episode tested his reputation and resilience, placing him under intense public scrutiny. Yet even then, he remained composed, facing the process in his own unhurried way.

“When the courts eventually cleared him, it was less of a moment of triumph than one of quiet closure.

“That, perhaps, was quintessential Dr Ling – never one to claim vindication loudly, never one to seek sympathy either,” as one news report put it.

With Dr Ling’s passing, Malaysia has not just lost a former minister, but a public servant, one who believed in restraint, decorum, and the slow, steady work of nation-building.

As he ended his political career, I remember being invited for a small dinner at the Castell restaurant in Petaling Jaya, where he took the microphone and sang Que Sera Sera (whatever will be, will be), a popular 1950s song.

And for those of us who covered him, we will always remember a gentleman who never raised his voice, yet was always heard. Farewell Doc Ling.

Did the US win anything in Iran?

Still standing: The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC)is estimated to have more than 190,000 active personnel. — AFP

US President Donald Trump has declared that the United States has won its war against Iran, and that the conflict could end in a few weeks as the “objectives have been met”.

It’s certainly good news for the world because we can all get on with our lives with his victory claim, even if it sounds hollow.

If he says the US has won, so be it, as long the US attacks really stop in the coming weeks. Thank you very much, Trump. You had our attention.

But we have all got used to his mood swings, tantrums, bullying, insults, and constant change of deadlines.

First, he issued a deadline for March 27, then he adjusted from seven days to 10 days, and then on March 26 Trump announced a further delay, pushing it to April 6.

He warned that if the Strait of Hormuz – a critical artery for global oil – is not opened by this time, he would blow up Iranian energy infrastructure, including desalination plants.

In a post on his Truth Social platform on April 1, he said that until the Strait of Hormuz “is open, free and clear” the US would be “blasting Iran into oblivion, or as they say, back to the Stone Ages”.

It would not be wrong to suggest that many do not think the US has really won the war despite the extensive bombing of Iran’s military assets and the deaths of over 100,000 Iranians, including children.

From the outset, the US entered the war with a shifting set of objectives: crippling Iran’s military, halting its nuclear ambitions, weakening its regional proxies, and forcing a regime change.

Trump’s victory declaration is no more than a political narrative. Eliminating Iranian leaders – with the help of Israel – is hardly a regime change.

These leaders may have been assassinated but they can be replaced. The regime structure remains.

The Revolutionary Guard still operates. Its regional influence has not collapsed. And crucially, there is no clear political settlement in sight.

Trump’s statements have been notably inconsistent – declaring the war nearly over, already won, and yet still ongoing, sometimes within the same week.

The world is wondering if he even has a plan.

Trump has declared that the US has won its war against Iran and that the conflict could end in a few weeks. Can we believe him? — Bloomberg

More telling is the quiet dilution of aims. Early priorities, such as reopening the Strait of Hormuz, are no longer central to the exit strategy.

Instead, the administration now signals that it may leave even without achieving such outcomes.

It looks like the US can’t do much if Iran refuses to open the Strait except to friendly nations or demands payment – in Chinese yuan – from less favoured countries that need to use the waterway.

Trump has also threatened to “obliterate” or seize Iran’s key oil hub, Kharg Island, by suggesting potential control of the terminal, possibly by deploying ground troops.

If that happens, we will see a major escalation of the war. We will see real combat between American/Israeli and Iranian troops.

Trump talks of ending the war, but has increased the American military presence, including soldiers and marines, to over 50,000 personnel. Hundreds of elite forces have also arrived to guard the Strait.

If these US soldiers set foot on Iranian territory, we can expect some serious combat.

Bodies being brought home in coffins wrapped in the Stars and Stripes will certainly be horrible optics ahead of the US mid-term elections for the House of Representatives and Senate.

This raises a fundamental question: If core objectives can be abandoned, what exactly constitutes success?

How can it be a victory for the US – or anyone – when the war has destabilised the Middle East, disrupted global economies, spiked oil prices and inflation, and strained alliances, with European partners distancing themselves from Washington?

In the US, the political cost is mounting. A significant majority of Americans now favour ending the war – even if objectives remain unmet.

American consumers are fuming that they have to pay more for the gas they are using in their cars and for the food on their tables.

This is not the profile of a nation confident in victory. It is the profile of a country seeking an exit.

The danger of Trump declaring a premature victory, however, masks unresolved threats and leaves underlying conflicts to fester.

The US may have signalled its intention to walk away but stopping the bombing does not necessarily end the war – or secure the region.

Israel hasn’t said anything about ending the war. It has not respected any ceasefire agreement in Gaza and it has continued to bomb the place.

In short, peace has not been respected or secured. The same will happen in Iran even if the US stops its attacks.

Without a diplomatic framework, without a stable post-war order, and without clarity about what has been achieved, military success risks becoming strategically hollow.

So has the US really won the war, met its objectives, destroyed Iranian assets, toppled the regime, and stopped Iran from building a nuclear bomb?

Yes, militarily, it has inflicted damage but strategically, the answer is far less clear.

It is clear that Iran is not defeated, the regime has remained, and most likely the war itself may end not with resolution but with withdrawal.

To put it bluntly, it is a pointless war, and even if it is quickly ended, the bottom line is how little it ultimately changed the political equation in Iran.

If Trump was hoping for a quickie result like the arrest of Venezuela president Nicolas Maduro recently, he got his calculations all wrong.

The reality is, the world has to pay the price for the stupid war started by Trump. Even if he orders a pullout in the coming weeks, we will still bear the consequences for a long time.

Many people visit the quiet Italian city of Turin to see this one special thing

The Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist looks unassuming on the outside, compared to Italy’s other famous churches like the Duomo in Milan. — Eccekevin/Wikimedia Commons

For many travellers to Italy, Turin is the city they simply pass through rather than plan for a visit, as it is overshadowed by the flashier, livelier Milan. One can say they are worlds apart in reputation.

The two cities are approximately 140km from one another, which is about a two-hour drive on an average traffic day, or a one-hour high-speed train ride.

Unlike Turin, Milan is a global brand. It has a glamorous image, being one of the world’s major fashion capitals and home to famous labels like Prada, Armani and Versace.

Then there are also the iconic landmarks like the Duomo di Milano (a Gothic cathedral that’s also one of the largest churches in the world) and the posh shopping plaza, Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II.

And of course, Milan is also where you can find Leonardo da Vinci’s world-renowned mural, The Last Supper – specifically at the Piazza di Santa Maria delle Grazie.

I had always bypassed Turin during my previous visits to Italy, but for some reason, the place remained on my mind.

In fact, I even felt a little guilty for not stopping by this quiet city when I had the chance to.

Finally, in 2024, my wife Florence and I decided to make our way to Turin, to visit the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist, where the Shroud of Turin is kept.

The Shroud of Turin is a 4.2m-long cloth bearing the faint image of a crucified man. It is traditionally believed to be the burial shroud of Jesus of Nazareth.

The purported image shows detailed wounds that are consistent with Roman crucifixion from many centuries ago, including from scourging and the wearing of a crown of thorns. There are also blood stains, as well as wounds on the wrists, feet and sides of the body.

Scientific analysis is divided with some saying the shroud is man-made but the Catholic Church has treated it as an object of veneration, representing the suffering of Jesus.

(However, the Church does not officially recognise it as the actual burial cloth of Jesus.)

Before the trip, we had done thorough research and reading on the matter. We were well aware that we would not get to see the original physical shroud, but instead a high-resolution reproduction of it.

The original remains sealed in a climate-controlled case for preservation, and taken out only on special occasions. Yet even the replica holds gravity.

The writer and his wife inside the church office, with a replica of the Shroud of Turin hanging on the wall. — FLORENCE TEH

It shows the faint outline of a man – wounded, crucified, enigmatic. A negative (inverted) image that became clearer to the human eye only after photography was invented, which then deepened its mystery.

True to Turin’s reputation as a quiet, restrained, intellectual and calm city, from the outside of the church nothing prepares you for the fact that one of Christianity’s most debated and venerated relics rests inside.

No flashing signs. No grand theatrics. No tickets required to enter the Renaissance church. Just marble stone, symmetry, and silence.

Ironically, though, even one of the world’s most famous relics – the Shroud of Turin – does not guarantee crowds of visitors to the city.

Inside the cathedral the air is cool and the environment hushed, as though voices had learned over centuries to lower themselves. Candles flickered in corners.

We joined a few visitors scattered across pews, each wrapped in private thought.

When I told my Malaysian friends earlier that we would be going to Turin, many were perplexed. Why even bother? We were not going to see the real cloth anyway.

But it was faith that drew us to the city. It wasn’t a pilgrimage but rather an invisible pull to go there. Just like the shroud, it holds many different meanings for many different people. For some it is evidence, for others artifice. For many more, it’s a sacred mystery.

For me, it was faith; pure and simple. The shroud’s attraction is not in proving or disproving anything.

Those who take a detour to Turin often feel they have discovered something personal, a city that was not “performing” for them, yet welcomed them anyway.

If Rome is theatrical, Venice dream-like, and Milan outlandish, then Turin is dignified – elegant without trying, cultured without all the noise.

Once the capital of the Kingdom of Italy, the city still carries itself with a certain royal composure.

Turin has a distinctly Baroque and neoclassical personality. It is orderly, rational, almost Parisian in spirit.

Turin is also a city of cafes – not hurried coffee counters, but hushed salons where marble tables, chandeliers and gilt mirrors recall an age when conversation was considered an art.

“At historic spots like Caffe San Carlo and Caffe Torino, you sense that intellectuals, politicians and poets once sat where you now sip your espresso,’’ as one article aptly described Turin.

We left Turin with the belief that faith and reason work together in the pursuit of truth. As the Italian priest St Thomas Aquinas said, in seeking wisdom, we need to deepen our understanding and grow closer to God.