Wee should pursue an education landscape offering equal opportunities aligned with each individual's abilities and inclinations.

 

This image serves to ignite your imagination, encouraging reflection that goes deeper than the text alone.

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MCA President Wee Ka Siong has finally emerged from political slumber.

        In recent weeks, he has been drawing attention to peripheral issues and criticising government policies with a tone that suggests he had excelled during his tenure as Minister of Transport—an impression not widely shared.

        To be fair, I hold deep respect for leaders such as Dr Fong Chan Onn, Chua Jui Meng, and my personal favourite, Lim Ah Lek. But Wee’s recent interventions have missed the mark. I was reluctant to pen this piece, yet felt compelled to voice my disappointment over his latest polemics involving Edward Wong, 20, from SMJK Jit Sin in Bukit Mertajam.

Longstanding Issue

        It’s not the fact that he raised the issue—everyone knows this problem has existed since the early 1980s and became more pronounced during the formative years of Anwar Ibrahim’s political journey.

        While Anwar has evolved over the past 25 years in some areas—championing reformasi and inclusive governance—one embittered figure continues to stoke racial tensions at every perceivable opportunity. I sincerely hope the editor of Malay Mail will consider revising the headline in question, lest it become another thorn in the side of our diverse and striving communities. We all know the old strategy used by Dr Mahathir Mohamad and the real reason for plans to topple Anwar. 

        Even in this same article, the old fox has admitted that Matriculation was a 'back door' for Malays. I am writing in response to precisely this: "...now others want in too." 

       For my non-Malay friends,  I believe that with time, Anwar will embody the spirit of his own slogan: “Anak Melayu anak saya, anak India anak saya, anak Kadazan anak saya, anak Dayak anak saya, anak Cina anak saya.” I have deliberately reordered the phrasing. As a Chinese Malaysian, I was taught from a young age to put others first. This phrase should also include "anak Serani, anak saya, anak Sikh, anak saya, anak Baba Nyonya, anak Orang Asal Semenanjung, anak saya," and the list can go on, but I guess in his formula. As he pushes for reforms, I believe he believes that no one -- including the stateless people who remain stateless for now -- should be sidelined.        

        What we read recently and spoken about by Wee is, therefore, an age-old problem, nothing new. 

Chinese Mindset

        Let me be candid. Like most Chinese parents, I want nothing less than the best education for my children—even if it means living frugally and exhausting our savings by the time they graduate, only to find ourselves in an old folks’ home. I pray that the Lord will take my wife and me home before that day comes -- if we are considered no longer useful to our children, or feel abandoned. Alternatively, we can only hope that our children and their spouses will have the means—and the heart—to honour the sacrifices we have made. After all, how many tens of years do we still have? 

      Sending them to local public universities has never been a serious consideration—except if they are accepted into a medical programme at Universiti Malaya or Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, where there is still some resemblance of quality education. 

       From there, they can pursue their chosen field of specialisation abroad. A medical degree from a private institution is, quite frankly, almost beyond our financial reach unless they can obtain PTPTN loan or be provided a JPA scholarship in return for my years of contribution towards nationhood. It is only a dream!

       Not many people know the full extent of my contributions over the past 30 years, and I have no intention of bragging it. I have often put myself on the line to help resolve community issues. Even today, with the press no longer hiring stringers, I continue my activism without earning a single sen—driven not by reward, but by purpose. After all my years of contributing to the growth of companies and clients that I had laboured for, I am probably considered no longer useful despite my wealth of experience and knowledge, as well my ability to still contribute meaningfully to organisations that I believe in. 

        Yet, my activism all began with a simple act: helping a neighbour who reported a small snake crawling into a hollow tree trunk left behind by Kuala Lumpur City Hall (DBKL) after a tree was felled. That moment sparked a lifelong commitment to public advocacy.

        What matters now is that the government recognises my activism extends far beyond my early days espeically as a stringer with Malay Mail, New Straits Times, and The Star—all while managing a full-time job. Put simply, my activism has always been about solving real problems on the ground—communities left without streetlights for decades, illegal dumps scattered across neighbourhoods, clogged drains, and a host of everyday issues that continue to burden ordinary Malaysians.

        I divert a bit: Most of my articles in the Metro and City Extra sections of the English dailies were purposeful and solution-driven. They even prompted Sheila Abdul Rahman—then Sunday Mail editor and now a personal friend—to remark, “I think you’re doing a great job for people in Kepong.” I took no offence when Malay Mail editor Azmi Ansar teasingly dubbed me the “garbage reporter,” as I frequently exposed illegal dumpsites throughout the 1990s. 

       In fact, that was what first prompted me to become a stringer. While I have seen notable improvements in DBKL, the situation in Selangor except for Petaling Jaya City Council currently under its mayor, Zahrin Samingon remains largely unchanged to this day. My so-called “attacks” or “criticisms” are not rooted in anti-government sentiment—they are simply efforts to prod those in authority -- especially at a lower level -- to fulfil their responsibilities without needing to be told. A nation cannot aspire to First World status if its local governments continue to approach their duties with indifference.

        Back to my observations about the entrance into public universities. I speak up on behalf of all -- not just the young people of Chinese or Indian ethnicity, but also our Sabahans and Sarawakians. Contrary to the general impressions, not every Chinese family has the means to send their children to a private institution to do a bachelor's degree. This is why they need to find their way into public universities. 

        This iconic photograph, which I often share, speaks volumes about the hidden pockets of B40 communities in our midst. It captures a Chinese woman living in a dilapidated shack behind a row of shops in Jalan Ipoh, struggling to feed herself and her adopted daughter with disabilities (OKU). Their story is a stark reminder that poverty cuts across race and geography—and that compassion must be rooted in shared humanity.

Two Tertiary Pathways

        It is for this reason that I have consistently shared my views on the two streams of education—academic and vocational (or skills-based)—which many still overlook or misunderstand. The evolution of higher education in Australia offers a compelling model that the Madani government would do well to emulate. I have previously suggested that Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim consider visiting both Australia and Germany to observe firsthand how their tertiary education systems have transformed. I hope that he now understands that I am not hobnobbing with anyone, but just trying to offer some possible solutions to some longstanding issues. 

        It is no suprise that I took great delight to share with friends when I read Human Resources Minister Steven Sim’s recent announcement: vocational or skills-based education will be elevated to a level on par with degrees offered by academic universities. This is a welcome shift. 

        I have used this rationale when I bring up the subject with the powers-that-be, telling them that I recall a friend who struggled in Monash University’s engineering programme but later thrived after enrolling at Caulfield Institute of Technology—now Chisholm, a Monash campus. His success underscores the importance of recognising diverse pathways to excellence.

       Let’s be honest. From my observations, the Malay community continues to lag behind in educational attainment despite all the privileges given to them. I say this with respect: whenever I meet a highly educated Malay friend, he or she is truly a gem to me. Understandably, many of them come from elite families where education is prioritised from a young age. But how many of our Malay brothers and sisters from the M40 and B40 groups grow up in environments where education is strongly emphasised? It's the mindset that matters, not the extra privileges. 

     I sincerely hope more Malay families from the B40 and M40 groups will embrace the mindset of our forefathers—those who migrated to Malaya in search of a livelihood, leaving behind siblings who, under restrictive communist policies that discouraged open markets, eventually grew complacent.

       Our forefathers were cut from a different cloth. Having relocatred themselves, they were willing to take on blue-collar work, yet remained unwavering in their commitment to securing a better future for their children through education. My late grandfather exemplified this spirit. Despite living in poverty, he was encouraged and financially sponsored by his teacher to complete his Cambridge O-levels—a remarkable achievement in the 1930s and 40s, when such qualifications were reserved for only the most capable students.

Solution 

        With the Madani government now laying the groundwork to elevate skills-based qualifications to the tertiary level—placing them on par with academic degrees—I believe we are moving towards a more effective system that channels young people according to their aptitudes. If you look at Germany's economy, it is largely the skills-based graduates who rebuilt the nation after a devastating World War II led by Adolf Hitler. 

        Merely filling quotas with underqualified Bumiputra students risks diluting the academic standards of our public universities. These concerns have been raised by academicians in the past, especially as some institutions reportedly produce hundreds of PhD graduates annually. Critics are beginning to question whether we are veering towards becoming degree mills, rather than centres of genuine scholarship and excellence.

        I appeal to Wee to move beyond polemics over Edward’s case and instead focus on offering meaningful solutions to reform our education landscape. Both of us were "guests" at Institut Kanser Negara (IKN) around the same time; therefore, I encourage him to leave behind a good legacy for the younger generation.

        Malaysia was once renowned for producing top scholars, but over the past few decades, that reputation has sadly diminished. Let us work together to bring our higher education to the next level. I believe, with the streamlining of academic and skills-based qualifications, communities must be helped to understand and embrace both pathways. Only then can our young people thrive in fields that truly match their interests and abilities.

        For coming years, I hope the Madani government will re-visit the strategy of helping the younger generation of Malays. Work on changing the mindsets of the B40 and M40 families, and inculcate in thier children that education plays a significant role in transforming their future. Perhaps, Wee should focus on this more than playing the polemic game. 

        It’s not that Wee is naïve—but his recent rhetoric suggests that, rather than offering constructive solutions, he is more concerned with scoring political points. What the nation needs now is leadership that inspires and uplifts, not commentary that distracts and divides.

        As things stand, MCA under Wee’s leadership—and the young voices currently representing the party—have failed to convince me to lend them my vote. I once placed considerable trust in one of their rising figures, only to be deeply disappointed when that trust was betrayed.