An authentic ride: In ‘Sandiwara’, one character Yeoh plays is a carefree waitress who whizzes through the alleys lined with pre-war houses on her bicycle in George Town. — Photos: Sandiwara/Self-Portrait

OSCAR winner Tan Sri Michelle Yeoh’s 10-minute film could not have come at a better time. It’s Chinese New Year and the country has just launched Visit Malaysia 2026.

Most of us are also exhausted of the country’s incessant toxic race and religious politics. We are in search of positive and productive content that can lift up our spirits.

Yeoh’s short film, Sandiwara, does just that. She has continuously put Malaysia on the world map and made us proud.

Yeoh’s latest effort is unusual. Short as it may be, its ripple effects could well extend into Malaysia’s tourism narrative, particularly for Penang.

The days of conventional tourism campaigns seem to be over as this brief understated cinematic piece has shown. It is certainly made for social media.

Instead of pan-Asian models – often the preferred choice of advertising agencies as they are regarded as neutral – at sandy beaches, glitzy malls and pristine forests, this one focuses on the real Penang. There are no postcard perfect scenes. Instead, Sandiwara opted for back lanes, hawker stalls, pre-war houses and the lived-in textures of George Town.

They are unfiltered and authentic characters that we see in Penang or any Malaysian town. More importantly, it doesn’t feel like another advertisement but a story instead.

In the age of Tik Tok and Instagram, which shape perception of culture using social media as a tool, Sandiwara has achieved what formal campaigns cannot.

In 10 minutes, Sandiwara captures what glossy brochures often fail to convey – the rhythm of a place, with the chatter of Penangites in coffee shops.

As a Penangite, I walked past these lanes and streets on the way to St Xavier’s Institution, my alma mater. My father also ran a hardware stall at Chulia Street and my maternal family home are also from there.

For my book, Penang’s History, My Story I chose Love Lane as my book cover. I don’t think there is any other road with that name in Malaysia. So, it was a delight to see Yeoh, carrying two bags of groceries, walking down Love Lane while another character wheels down Lebuh Klang, a narrow lane off Stewart Lane.

The writer says he is delighted to see Yeoh featured on his childhood haunt Love Lane in ‘Sandiwara’.— Sandiwara/Self-Portrait

The much-hyped short Sandiwara is directed by Oscar award-winning director Sean Baker.

Many have asked why Penang was chosen since Yeoh is Ipoh-born. The answer is simple – the film was commissioned by Penang-born designer and founder of London-based contemporary fashion label Self-Portrait, Han Chong.

Sandiwara tells of five characters, all played by Yeoh, with a 24-hour narrative in the life of these five persons.

She plays a carefree waitress, who whizzes through the alleys with pre-war houses on her bicycle, a diva food vlogger, a char koay teow stall owner, a stylish elegant lady with an immaculate hairdo and an aging singer seeking the spotlight.

George Town in Penang is already well-known as Malaysia’s food capital and a Unesco-listed heritage site.

The film maker has rightly chosen Moh Teng Pheow Nyonya Koay, an eatery with a Michelin Bib Gourmand, located off Chulia Street. Then, just a few steps away, the vlogger enters Goh Thew Chek Chicken Rice shop, which is often packed during lunch time.

She then moves on to Penang’s famous Line Clear Nasi Kandar along Penang Road. It’s a touristic joint and I wish she could have settled for a better choice like nearby Hameediyah on Campbell Street. But I am glad that Red Garden Food Paradise, which straddles Penang Road and Leith Street, was selected. Locals won’t recommend this food court for local hawker fare as they are not top-notch but its “live” entertainment is recommended.

The singers there sportingly take requests for Malay, English and Chinese songs, and occasionally lady boy groups, presumably from Thailand, also appear on stage.

I have stayed at the Edison Hotel, a restored 1906 colonial mansion, with its Anglo-Chinese architecture, which faces the Red Garden and famous Blue Mansion. You can hear the blare from the singing in the evenings, so one can’t help but cross the road and enjoy the clean and cheap entertainment over a cup of coffee or cold beer.

As the short film sets to conclude, all five characters are inside Red Garden with Lady Orchid performing on stage, the waitress alerting the hawker that the food critic had ordered her char koay teow.

It’s a happy ending. The stoic and stiff elegant lady finally puts on a smile and claps to the singer, Lady Orchid is recognised finally, the vlogger who gave her cameraman a tough time cajoled him to dance along, the food critic gives the hawker a thumbs up, the hawker cries tears of joy and Lady Orchid ends with, “Thank you, Penang.”

What does the real-life char koay teow seller like? She is actually a pretty young lady who expertly whips up Penang’s most famous dish swiftly.

The Edison Hotel was used by Yeoh and the crew as a base to change costume, make-up and for a quick break. The entire film was shot on a mobile iPhone and completed in over 48 hours.

The short film made its world premiere at the Berlin Film Festival and its US premiere on Feb 19 at a private Los Angeles venue with Yeoh, Chong, Baker and other celebrities and guests present, according to a news report.

One report aptly states: “Tourism in 2026 is not about grand spectacle. It is about emotional connection. And sometimes, it takes only two minutes to remind the world that Penang’s true appeal lies not in staged perfection, but in its authenticity.

“If handled wisely, Sandiwara may prove that Malaysia’s strongest tourism ambassador is not a slogan – but a story.”

I am glad that a Penangite paid for this unprecedented film. If it was a government-paid project, the usual safe and tested script would probably be used and a boring drama would have been the end product.

I am unsure if the title can resonate with foreigners but Malaysians trying to ditch the “politik sandiwara” during this festive CNY and holy month of Ramadan, want to see, watch and read more happy news – like this short movie.

Watch Sandiwara here.

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Traffic towards Penang and on the island is always bad during the holidays. — CHAN BOON KAI/The Star

MY family and I have always made it a point to travel home to Penang for the Chinese New Year reunion dinner ahead of the actual festival.

One reason is that we want to avoid the annual massive traffic jam on roads to the island which can be a nightmare, especially from the second day of the celebrations.

Penang has always been a favourite holiday destination for many, but for us Penangites, it’s no fun when the island comes to a near standstill.

There is also no compelling reason to be there on the actual dates of CNY as I try to visit my 95-year-old mother at least once a month, even if it’s just for a few hours. I adjust my work appointments to fit in some precious time with my ageing mum. The reality is: time is running out.

For the first time, my mum had to attend this year’s reunion dinner at a restaurant in a wheelchair. That meant my niece had to look for an eatery with facilities to accommodate someone in a wheelchair.

Signs of dementia have also crept in, cruelly. Her memory is faltering. She can still recognise faces and names but, like many people her age, she kept asking the same questions, minutes apart. I was asked repeatedly when I returned from Kuala Lumpur when I had just stepped into the home; and when she would see me again.

It was heart-wrenching, but this is expected. When we reach those advanced years, we too, would be in the same health predicament. The great thing was, she still has a good appetite. Although she is eating less, she still insists on getting her regular fix of nasi kandar – and only from Hameediyah on Campbell Street. I have to give thanks for food delivery services; if not my niece, who is really an angel for taking care of my mother, would have to travel from our Kampung Melayu home in Air Itam to town to please her.

My mum’s stories and questions may circle back on themselves, but they are threads in the fabric of who we are. We are thankful that we can still hear these questions.

There was a time when she held everything together in ways we hardly noticed. She remembered every birthday. She was the bridge between siblings, the keeper of traditions, the gentle reminder that family comes first.

In those leaner years, she managed the household with quiet efficiency. Meals were simple but always good. There was no extravagance, yet we never felt deprived.

Now, we repeat answers without impatience. We smile when she tells us, once again, about the past, especially the family stories.

In caring for her, we are learning again the meaning of devotion – the same devotion she once showed us so naturally. And with each passing year, as CNY approaches, my heart carries a private fear.

We know how the aged can be temperamental and unfairly demanding, which is difficult for the caregiver. That task, unfortunately, falls on my niece, who drops by every day to check on her. I am forever grateful to her. It’s a relief that my brother lives next door to her, with another one not far away. The presence of a faithful maid has also helped.

Still, we are thankful that mum can still walk around the house on her own with a walker. Age has slowed her stride, but it has not diminished her presence. In our family, she remains the quiet centre, not by command, not by fear, but by the gentle authority of love.

My father passed away at 95 in 2020 after coming down with dengue fever. It took my mum a long time to get over it. She often stared aimlessly out the window, almost as if she was hoping he would come back.

Both had never had real friends outside. They only had each other. They travelled everywhere in each other’s company. Their life and times were for each other and no one else.

I have never heard them express their love or show affection openly but that’s what typical Asian families were like. We saw the true meaning of love in my parents even though it was never expressive. Their devotion to each other has reminded me how important it is to spend as much the time as possible with your loved ones, especially as they age.

Deep in my heart, I know that mum is the one holding my siblings and our children together, especially during the CNY reunion. Mum no longer cooks, naturally. But there was a time when she took pains, like a true blue Peranakan nonya, to cook the best meals. Her otak otak, perut ikan and curry and sambal belacan were legendary, to me, at least.

My father, who had come to Penang as a teenager from Langkawi, Kedah, as a shop assistant was not rich. But he was a good father. Not once did he use the rotan on me – delegating the job to my mum instead.

What we had in abundance was stability. We felt safe and loved. Every Sunday would be a family outing. Dad would take us out for the best food, either at a coffee shop or restaurant. Now, the roles are reversed. The children have to care for the parents but I wish I could do more.

I feel horribly guilty that I am unable to spend as much time as I should with mum, knowing that she is entering the last phase of her life. Soon, she may not be able to even recognise me, an affliction my father had suffered too. It’s a fear I continuously harbour. I wish I could care for and protect her with the same love and devotion that she gave me and my brothers.

The reunion dinner is thus our most sacred ritual, for I do not know if this tradition will continue when mum is no longer around. My brothers are already in their 70s, with health and financial issues. One is already a widower. Another sibling, like me, lives in KL.

For the time being, it is heartwarming that mum still sits at the centre of the table – even though the reunion dinner has to be at a restaurant. Thanks to her, the journey home for the reunion, carries a real meaning. She is the reason why my family is in Penang.

It has grown to two tables to accommodate the extending family every year, squeezed to accommodate children, spouses, and now grandchildren.

It was good to see my mother smiling away as she was seated with three generations of the Wong family. I am sure Dad was watching us from above, also with a smile.

I wish this family bonding can continue for some years. The photographs taken after the reunion dinner weren’t just to mark the festival but a record of CONTINUITY.

I am sure many Malaysians can relate to my story.

We must appreciate and love our parents while they are still around. One day, they will just be memories.

It’s still not too late to wish Malaysians celebrating the CNY a happy and prosperous year. Gong Xi Fa Cai!

Historical temple: The Sri Maha Mariamman Koil on Kretay Estate, aka Ranggoon Estate, in Kerteh, Terengganu, was built by rubber tappers in the 1920s. Many old temples now find themselves on state or private land, making ownership complex, activist Arutchelvan explains in his article. — The Star

THE current controversy over the huge number of unregistered Hindu temples is troubling.

Judging by the type of arguments popping up on social media, it is evident that many have been swept by racial sentiments.

Irrationality and ignorance without wanting to know the facts have not helped in their arguments.

We need to understand the basic background.

For a start, there are temples that have remained categorised as “squatters” even though they date back over 100 years.

They began as modest shrines set up by Indian labourers, mostly in rubber estates or railway settlements. Within the estates, these temples grew as community centres during the British colonial era.

No one understood nor saw the importance of formal land titles or gazetted status back then. The temples were unlikely to get the approval of employers, anyway.

As the estates disappeared and ownership changed hands – especially to land developers – and the complications began.

These unregistered temples that had stood for generations have suddenly found themselves in a precarious legal position. They have no legal papers saying they own the land or have permission to occupy it.

Developers would usually try to negotiate with and compensate these temple managements.

These landowners see the temples as squatters who are in no position to negotiate. They are unlikely to be swayed by historical religious perspectives that the temples have served as significant institutions.

Some cases have ended badly, even fatally.

Activist S. Arutchelvan has written a comprehensive article on this issue that is agitating Malaysia now.

“What has changed is urbanisation. These temples were once on city fringes or rural areas with little land value. Today, urban growth has placed them seemingly in the middle of towns and highways.

“Some question why these temples did not apply for or purchase land. The reality is that worshippers are mostly lower- income workers and plantation labourers (B40), not high earners who can easily buy land.

“Moreover, due to the Torrens system, temples may stand on state or private land, making ownership complex. Some roadside temples have been relocated by local authorities, but it is not simple for such temples to secure land titles.”

The Torrens land title system, adopted in post-independence Malaysia, places decisive importance on registered ownership and gazetted use of land.

The clear cases of legal temples are those with titles, either on their own land or on land they have been approved to occupy by the relevant district land administrator, as can be seen in Penang and Selangor.

But the ones that have given rise to resentment are those that do not have land titles. Even many Hindus oppose such temples. Arutchelvan himself says he does not support these temples that were built without strong tradition or significant followers.

“Some are even set up by gangster groups as fronts for wrongdoing. A temple without genuine devotees or long-standing tradition lacks legitimacy compared with established temples.”

He also shared that there were “family temples originally built within private compounds but later expanded and opened to the public.

“Local authorities should act if such expansions disturb neighbours. Family temples should not be converted into public temples.”

In my neighbourhood, there are two Hindu temples sitting on Tenaga Nasional Bhd land, under the cable towers, even though there is no significant Hindu community in the area.

It is a familiar scene in many places, and land owners have plenty to share about how they have been arm twisted to pay a settlement.

Malaysians are religiously sensitive and prefer to end disputes peacefully, even though such temple managements have no basis to make claims.

“The land status of many temples is legally ambiguous. Some are on estate land where workers built shrines with implied permission long ago; others have remained on plots that later changed hands without formal conversion of the temple’s rights.

“In legal terms, occupying land without a registered title can be classed as ‘squatting’. Under Malaysia’s National Land Code, squatting on state land – even for worship – can be an offence,’’ Arutchelvan said.

The number of unregistered Hindu temples and shrines in Malaysia are reportedly between 2,500 and over 3,000; there are more than 800 registered ones.

In Kuala Lumpur, there are reportedly more than 100 such places of worship built mostly on government land, with many facing relocation.

Last week, Sultan Sharafuddin Idris Shah expressed support for Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim’s stance that houses of worship cannot be built without adhering to the stipulated rules and regulations.

The Selangor Ruler was informed that there are a total of 687 Hindu temples built without approval in the state as of Jan 31 this year.

This includes 388 temples built on government-owned land and 229 on privately owned land.

“The number of these unauthorised temples is high in comparison with the Hindu community in the state, which is about 11.3%,” the palace said in a statement.

The issue of these registered temples needs tactful handling. Many of the old temples are victims of their misunderstanding of legal procedures. They now bear the consequences of their ignorance.

But let’s not forget the contributions of our Indian labourers in the estates who contributed greatly to this nation.

If badly handled, it will be hurtful and undignified to the Hindu community. It is good that the government has warned those who intend to disrupt the harmony of the country with protests and even one reported case of attempting to demolish a temple.

The police and authorities must not allow these serial rabble-rousers off easy, or give the impression that their remands are a walk in the park.

Self-appointed vigilantes who are out to vandalise or demolish temples should not be tolerated. They have no business taking the law into their own hands. They are simply dangerous extremists.

Interestingly, Arulchetvan also said there had been Muslim settlements – Kampung Aman, Kampung Chubadak, Kampung Rimba Jaya, Kampung Sri Makmur, Kampung Berembang, Kampung Ara, and others in Selangor – where suraus were built on untitled land.

He said these were created by low-income migrants responding to development calls in the 1970s, adding that developers had bought the land and evicted them.

“Thus, this is a class issue, not a racial one. Under the Torrens system, ownership is determined by title, not who came first,’’ wrote the Parti Sosialis Malaysia deputy chairman.

The racial sentiment being whipped up on social media is hugely disturbing and one wonders if they are politically initiated to show the government in a bad light.

After all, an aborted protest outside the Sogo complex in Kuala Lumpur was timed to coincide with Indian President Narendra Modi’s official visit.

Calls on social media to demolish all temples, including long-standing ones, are irrational and not in the public interest.

Let the authorities handle this issue patiently and wisely.

Rational Malaysians will understand that arbitrary construction must stop to deter those who use religion as a tool to make money.

Agriculture makes up less than 2% of Selangor’s total GDP. In many areas like Hulu Selangor, it is common to see cattle from nearby farms encroaching on residential areas and public roads. — The Star

IT’S always difficult when long-term policies and planning are caught in race and religion controversies. These include manufactured threats used merely to win votes ahead of the general election.

Take the issue of pig farming in Selangor. The state government has come under fire for its plan to relocate and centralise pig farming.

It makes sense, but in a state where the population is predominantly Malay, it has led to much unhappiness.

For Muslims, whatever weaknesses they may have in their daily living, non-halal substances, especially pork, is the ultimate red line.

Let’s be honest. No one, including pork consumers, wants to have a large-scale pig farm in their backyard.

The palace isn’t happy either, and has made clear its stand. The outcome could have been better if the palace had been better informed of developments.

In contrast, pork-loving non- Muslims, especially the Chinese, perceive the controversy as another case of marginalisation.

There are no winners except for those fanning race and religion issues on social media.

What is less discussed rationally and seriously by lawmakers is that every inch of land in Selangor matters.

The reality is that Selangor must optimise land – and that is why livestock belong in other states where land is abundant.

It is not just pig farming, where livestock businessmen have been perceived to be reluctant to invest in modern technology, but the other traditional farms too.

In Selangor, land is no longer a passive backdrop to development. It is a strategic asset – finite, contested, and increasingly expensive.

Each hectare carries multiple responsibilities: housing a growing population, supporting economic activity, managing floods, protecting ecosystems, and enabling mobility.

With demand for land far outstripping supply, the question is no longer whether land use in Selangor should be optimised, but how urgently.

Let’s ask this bold question: Does traditional livestock farming still make sense in Selangor?

Agriculture, including livestock farming, only made up less than 2% of Selangor’s total GDP while services and manufacturing contributed over 25% to the national GDP – although livestock is admittedly crucial for food security and local supply.

Selangor, however, is unlike other states. It is Malaysia’s most urbanised and industrialised state. Its land value reflects proximity to ports, airports, highways, labour markets, and consumers.

Selangor excels as a manufacturing and innovation hub. — 123rf

Using such land for extensive livestock farming, an activity that requires large tracts for relatively low output, comes with a steep opportunity cost, and certainly cannot be a priority for the state.

The same land could support compact housing, flood mitigation infrastructure, logistics hubs, high-tech industry, or modern food production systems that generate exponentially more value per square metre.

States like Sabah and Sarawak possess what Selangor does not: vast land reserves, lower population density, and landscapes that naturally support pasture-based agriculture.

In these regions, livestock farming aligns with the physical and economic realities on the ground.

Larger contiguous land areas allow for proper grazing, biosecurity buffers, and waste management without encroaching on residential zones or critical infrastructure.

Environmental pressures are easier to manage when land is not squeezed between highways and housing estates.

Economically, livestock farming benefits from scale. Sabah and Sarawak can support larger herds, integrated supply chains, and downstream processing without facing the prohibitive land costs that distort feasibility in Selangor.

Lower land prices mean investments can be directed towards productivity, animal health, and sustainability rather than sunk into real estate.

This is how livestock farming becomes competitive.

There is also the national food security logic that is often overlooked. Food security does not mean every state produces everything.

Sabah and Sarawak are well positioned to be Malaysia’s backbone for land-intensive agriculture, including livestock farming.

Malaysia has a huge food import bill which continues to rise – exceeding RM70bil annually with 2023 figures reported at about RM71.6bil to nearly RM79bil.

Instead of importing pork – as some have suggested, citing Singapore as an example – it makes more sense for non-Muslims to buy from Sabah and Sarawak to keep our spending within Malaysia.

Sarawak is reportedly expanding its pig farming industry, aiming for US$220mil (RM931.81mil)in exports by 2030, by utilising secluded land for large scale, automated and biosecure facilities.

Supported by the state government, this modern, sustainable approach includes on-site abattoirs, waste treatment, ventilation and cooling systems, and export capabilities, including to Singapore.

The Borneo Post reported that by 2030, the state will have a pig production industry worth RM1.5bil. To date, the state exports over RM129.8mil of pork to Singapore.

Selangor, meanwhile, excels as a logistics, processing, distri-bution, and innovation hub – efficiently linking producers to consumers.

Modern food systems depend less on proximity to farms and more on cold chains, transport infrastructure, and processing capacity – all of which Selangor already has.

Environmental considerations further strengthen this case. In Selangor, livestock farming often competes with water catchment areas, river buffers, and flood plains.

In land-rich states, these pressures are easier to mitigate through proper spacing, ecosystem planning, and integration with the natural landscape.

Crucially, a shift away from livestock farming in Selangor must be accompanied by thoughtful transition policies.

As it is now, the Selangor government is actively carrying out the clearing of pig farms, with just over 30 farms still operating in Kuala Langat compared with the 115 previously reported.

Land use must continue to evolve with the same pragmatism.

Clinging to land-intensive activities in a land-scarce state is not preservation – it is stagnation.

In the long run, it is better for Selangor to source its livestock supplies from other states, especially Sarawak.

When every bit of land counts in Selangor, wisdom lies in putting each inch to its highest and best use.

Big bill: Malaysia relies heavily on imports like rice, meat, dairy and medicine. — RAJA FAISAL HISHAN/The Star

IT has been a good run for the ringgit. It continues to streng-then against the greenback, making it the best currency performer in the region.

But the stronger ringgit is more than just a currency story, it is also a political one.

Finally, we can hold our heads up high because of the firmer ringgit. Many of us may have forgotten it, but there was a time that the ringgit was in danger of dipping to RM5 against the US dollar.

For years, we worried each time the ringgit lost value.

We wondered whether it was governance or growth, and if the Malaysian leadership was heading in the right direction.

We had to pay more for our imports, especially food, which remains one of the highest bills.

Malaysia relies heavily on foreign staples like rice, meat, dairy, machinery and medicine. The import bill rose from RM35bil in 2011 to over RM55.5bil in 2020, and further surged towards RM80bil by 2024/2025.

Much of international trade is paid in US dollars and that means consumers have to pay more if the ringgit is weak.

Last week, the ringgit rose to a seven-year high to close at 3.9185 on Wednesday as improved risk sentiment and a softer dollar continued to back the ringgit. This was the strongest closing level since it hit 3.9150 in 2018.

For now, many continue to wonder how long the ringgit will continue to climb or if this is mostly the result of external factors, specifically the weaker greenback and interest rate decisions in the US.

That is only partly true. A stronger ringgit is, in fact, a vote of confidence.

To put it simply, it is the result of political stability.

We had a change of three prime ministers in one parliamentary term, from 2020 to 2022. The BBC, in its news report headlined “How Malaysia’s government collapsed in two years”, said it was a result of “unprecedented political turmoil and uncertainties”.

Malaysians paid a heavy price for those years of excessive politicking and turmoil. The ringgit, for one, took a persistent beating. But the stability over the past few years has seen it recover.

A stronger ringgit is a vote of confidence for the government. Malaysians have paid a heavy price for those years of excessive politicking and turmoil.

At the most basic level, a strengthening ringgit reflects improved demand for Malaysian assets.

Investors are more willing to hold ringgit-denominated bonds, equities, and real investments.

We hope the stronger ringgit will impact Malaysians as a whole, including lowering the cost of food and other household items, easing the cost of living pressures.

For the government, it means less fiscal stress when servicing foreign-denominated obligations.

Still, looking at the kind of unproductive political messages appearing on social media these days, one wonders if Malaysians have learnt the lessons from those tough years.

Fast forward to 2026, democracy in Malaysia has become louder but political stability remains.

We will wake up tomorrow knowing full well that Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim will still be the PM.

Most of us who take to the keyboard to vent or to whine take political stability for granted. It is something we hardly talk about.

Sadly, political stability is underestimated in Malaysia. This stability deserves better recognition and acknow-ledgement.

As one report aptly put it: “Political stability is not glamorous. It does not trend on social media. It does not offer quick populist wins. But markets notice it immediately. When policies are predictable, institutions function, and leadership appears durable, investors can model risk.”

Investors do not want to deal with a country that keeps changing leadership and policies. They want decisions that stick and contracts that are honoured. That alone lowers the cost of capital and supports the currency.

It all matters to Malaysia because we are an open economy that is trade dependent. Yes, a weak ringgit may help our exporters but prolonged weakness erodes purchasing power, accelerates brain drain, and raises the cost of development.

A country aspiring to move up the value chain cannot rely on cheap currency as a competitive strategy. It needs productivity, innovation, and trust.

Stability does not mean the absence of opposition, debate, or accountability. It means leadership transitions are orderly. It means policy differences are managed, not weaponised.

If Malaysia wants a currency that reflects its true potential, it must treat political stability not as side effect of power, but as a public good worth protecting.

Constitutional right: A strong Malay language curriculum ensures that no child grows up isolated from the broader society they will eventually have to navigate, says the writer. — Filepic/The Star

I FIND it very hard to accept when Malaysians struggle to speak the national language or have little understanding and appreciation of our history and cultures.

I spent all my early life in an English medium school but that did not stop me from signing up for the Sejarah Islam and Kesusasteraan papers for the Higher School Certificate (HSC) examination, the equivalent of today’s Sijil Pelajaran Tinggi Malaysia (STPM).

The Malay Literature paper actually included a section on Indonesian literature and reading up Sejarah Melayu (Malay Annals) was not easy but it was manageable.

When I entered Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia in 1981, I opted to sign up for the Malay Letters Department, or Jabatan Persuratan Melayu, in my first year.

The Islamic paper, Tamadun Islam (Islamic Civilisation), was compulsory and has remained so, but under a different name – Penghayatan Etika dan Peradaban (Appreciation of Ethics and Civilisation).

Applicants to UKM knew exactly what they were signing up for when they opted to study at the National University of Malaysia.

Studying at a university with a predominantly Malay student population exposed me to a better understanding of Islam and Malay culture – and more importantly, friendships with Malays.

I understood better why financial support had to be given to underprivileged Malays. Many even had to use their scholarship money to support their parents and siblings in villages.

I was a tutor for some who had to attend compulsory English classes because they had never spoken the language with anyone in school, at home or in their surroundings.

Some shared that they were mocked by their friends when they tried to speak English. For fear of ridicule, they just clamped up.

They, in turn, found out that not all Chinese were well-off and many expressed their sadness when their varsity mates did not secure scholarships even though they needed it, too.

They were also taken aback when learning that not all Chinese could speak Mandarin. A foreign language is compulsory for all UKM students and we had objected when we were not allowed to sign up for Mandarin.

The university did not want Mandarin-speaking students signing up for the language course as it would have given them an unfair advantage.

However, there should not be any doubt about the status of Bahasa Malaysia as the common tongue. It is our national language.

Malaysia’s diversity is rightly celebrated. We are a nation of many cultures, religions, and languages, shaped by centuries of interaction and exchange.

But diversity alone does not make a nation cohesive. What binds a people together is a shared civic framework – common rules, shared symbols, and a unifying narrative.

It is within this framework that the Yang di-Pertuan Agong’s message on the importance of accepting Bahasa Melayu as the national language, and the Prime Minister’s directive that all schools and institutions of learning must teach the Malay language and Malaysian history, should be understood and supported.

At its core, it’s not about exclusion or coercion. It is about nationhood. Why should there be reservations?

Bahasa Melayu is constitutionally enshrined as the national language – not to elevate one community above others, but to provide a neutral, shared medium through which all Malaysians can participate equally in public life.

Without a common language, society fragments into parallel worlds – each functioning internally, but disconnected from the whole.

The King’s message is therefore a reminder of a basic civic reality: choosing to live in Malaysia means accepting the foundations upon which the country stands.

Every country has such foundations. In France, it is French; in Japan, Japanese; in Indonesia, Bahasa Indonesia.

Acceptance of Bahasa Melayu is not a denial of one’s heritage or mother tongue. Tamil, Mandarin, Iban, Kadazan, English, and many other languages continue to thrive.

What is required is not abandonment of these languages, but the willingness to meet one another on common ground.

In Europe, especially in Switzerland, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Sweden, Denmark and Finland, citizens place importance on their national languages but are able to speak English and other languages.

A shared language reduces social distance. It allows a hawker, a teacher, a civil servant, and a student, regardless of background, to speak to one another as equals.

Education is where these values must be firmly rooted, which is why the Prime Minister’s order regarding the teaching of the Malay language and Malaysian history across all schools and institutions of learning is both logical and necessary.

Schools are not merely places to acquire technical skills; they are where citizens are formed. There is no excuse for any Malay-sian not to study Bahasa Melayu and the country’s history, which should include the Constitution.

Language proficiency opens doors – to higher education, employment, public service, and civic participation.

If one cannot speak Malay proficiently, then how can you deal with our institutions, especially the civil service, effectively?

When students are denied adequate exposure to the national language, they are not being protected; they are being disadvantaged.

A strong Malay language curriculum ensures that no child grows up isolated from the broader society they will eventually have to navigate.

Likewise, if Malaysians are not able to speak or write English well, then they would be at a disadvantage because English is an international language. It has to be used in the private sector because it deals with the rest of the world.

When Malaysians travel abroad, like it or not, they have to converse with foreigners in English.

We all know that the ability to speak Mandarin and to understand the Chinese mind is important because China has become a super power. The inability to speak Mandarin is a language handicap to me.

There is no reason to still question the existence of Chinese vernacular schools. They are an asset.

The fact that more and more Malay parents send their children to these schools is evidence that they understand the importance of knowing Mandarin.

Equally vital is the teaching of Malaysian history. A nation without historical consciousness is one that’s vulnerable to division, myth-making, and resentment.

Malaysian history, taught honestly and inclusively, reminds us that our independence was not inevitable, that it required compromise, and that our social contract was carefully constructed to balance diversity with unity.

Our students need to be reminded that we achieved independence because the Malays, Chinese and Indians worked together – and that without Sabah and Sarawak, there would be no Malaysia.

Let’s all be clear on this. These historical facts have to be ingrained into young minds that have been poisoned by racists on social media.

History will teach young Malaysians why certain institutions exist, why certain sensitivities matter, and why mutual respect is not optional but essential.

Critics often argue that such policies risk being perceived as narrow or intolerant. These are concerns that should be addressed with clarity, not dismissed.

Teaching the national language and history does not mean suppressing other identities. It means ensuring that all identities exist within a shared national framework.

In fact, a confident national identity is what allows cultural diversity to flourish without fear. When people feel anchored, they are less defensive and more open.

But policy must be accompanied by good implementation. Teaching Malay and history should be done well – by trained teachers, with engaging curricula, and with sensitivity to Malaysia’s plural reality.

History should not be reduced to rote learning or propaganda; it should encourage critical thinking, empathy, and a sense of responsibility.

Ultimately, the message from the Yang di-Pertuan Agong and the directive from the Prime Minister are about responsibility as much as rights.

Citizenship carries obligations: to understand the country’s history, to respect its Constitution, and to communicate in the language that binds its people together.

The King is right. Those who reject these obligations should seriously reflect on whether they wish to be part of the collective project that is this nation.

It is a shame when there are Malaysians, who were born here and live here, cannot converse in Bahasa Malaysia well while migrant Bangladeshi workers are able to speak better than them.