Much of this is backed by government-linked capital. Khazanah Nasional’s RM600 million Dana Warisan programme restored Seri Negara (reopened December 2025) and Bangunan Sultan Abdul Samad (reopened February 2026). Meanwhile private financing and philanthropies have sprouted more spaces across the city such as Ur-Mu, Toffee, +N, and the forthcoming Muara Arts at Medan Pasar (itself a larger heritage development), have added to the wave. 

Yet one may ask why such developments have not extended Malaysia’s own public museums administered by Jabatan Muzium Malaysia (JMM). For most Malaysians, memories of Muzium Negara start and end with a school trip, revisited once with their own children, viewing much the same exhibits. If GLIC-led and private-led initiatives can build heritage programming that draws the masses, what stops government-run institutions from doing the same? 

Public museums are more than tourist stops. Jabatan Muzium Malaysia (JMM) is custodian of over 20 museums nationwide, carrying a mandate to preserve national heritage that private and even GLIC-backed sites don’t share. That mandate carries real economic weight too: Malaysia’s cultural and creative industry generated RM130.7 billion in 2024, 6.8% of GDP and 763,100 jobs, and museums anchor much of that story for tourists. There are economic reasons, as well as serious curatorial and archival value for which their empowered and entrusted to manage and deliver.

Public museums are not necessarily under-resourced, they’re constrained 

JMM received about RM49.2 million in operating expenditure in 2024, drawing roughly 2.5 million visitors and RM895,580 in ticket sales, according to JMM’s 2024 annual report. The real strains identified by a parliamentary review found major projects, including a proposed Natural History Museum, going unapproved for development funding, and the National Museum complex, now over 60 years old, awaiting funds for renovation and expansion. On staffing, JMM reported 373 filled positions against 414 approved posts, a shortfall that falls squarely on the curators and conservators who define an institution’s quality. 

Legislative and governance constraints compound this. Admission is capped under the Fees Act at RM2 for citizens and RM5 for non-citizens, changeable only through an amendment brought before Parliament. Compare that with the privately-operated KL City Gallery in the Khazanah Nasional-funded Bangunan Sultan Abdul Samad complex, which has published ticket rates of RM22 for Malaysians and RM40 for foreign visitors, a pricing flexibility JMM’s fixed, one-size-fits-all rate doesn’t allow. JMM can legally accept public donations and private sponsorships, which already benefit from a RM1 million tax deduction, and holds its own Trust Account to receive them. But it retains only around 40% of the revenue it generates; the rest reverts to the Federal Consolidated Fund rather than the museums that earned it. 

Autonomy and ownership, not just funding, unlocks opportunities  

This isn’t a case for privatising Malaysia’s museums. Public institutions carry obligations, preservation, research, education, affordable access, that private and GLIC-backed venues don’t carry to the same degree. But international practice shows private capital can supplement a public funded base without compromising it: Singapore’s National Heritage Board matches qualifying donations dollar-for-dollar; the UK’s national museums generate £1.3 billion in self-raised income against £484 million in public grant. The balance shown here is the autonomy provided to trustees of these public cultural institutions to raise and deploy funding in concert with public allocations.  

Malaysian examples already show a similar model: the ability to raise, retain and deploy funds. Bank Negara Malaysia’s Museum and Art Gallery which operated through the Central Bank has included corporate-sponsored exhibitions, such as a partnership with the Malaysian Palm Oil Council, to as part of its rotating programming complementing its permanent galleries and exhibitions. Such funding avenues help the Gallery ensure admission fees are kept low—this particular gallery charges no admission fees—but also ensure a continued rotation of new exhibitions which attract returning visitors. Similar models appear in the newer crop of cultural institutions emerging in KL—public funds through grants can spur the initial development of new museums and the surrounding areas to boost visitor traffic, but the freedom to develop lasting corporate partnerships, explore commercial opportunities that create more sustainable funding avenues for example through event hosting and venue rentals, or F&B and commercial rentals.  

For the visitor, this can mean more immersive or technologically impressive gallery exhibits. The KL City Gallery, in the Bangunan Sultan Abdul Samad, for example, retells the story of the city’s development through a multimedia projection overlayed over a scale model of the sprawling city. With ongoing commercial funding and additional revenue, it further enables gallery operators to continue developing new exhibitions or temporary ones that attract new visitors and keep its exhibits relevant and refreshed.  

This carries further importance for public institutions, which aside from serving tourists and the public, are also custodians of national heritage artifacts having to preserve, maintain, and expand their collection of artefacts. For JMM, its constrained and largely allocation-driven public funding meant that acquisitions are typically incremental—2024 saw 144 collections acquired through donations, alongside the recovery and registration of existing artefacts—while major gallery renewals and infrastructure improvements remain dependent on securing separate development allocations from the federal Budget. By comparison, Singapore’s National Museum operates within a broader ecosystem of public funding, philanthropy and corporate support, enabling it to mobilise additional resources for exhibitions, collections and gallery renewal. Its Singapore History Gallery, for instance, was last refreshed in 2015 and is now undergoing its first full revamp since the museum’s 2006 redevelopment, with the rejuvenated gallery scheduled to reopen in October 2026. The lesson is not that private funding should replace public funding, but that public funding establishes the foundation while greater institutional autonomy and the ability to attract and deploy external capital allow museums to continuously reinvest in their collections and visitor experience. 

Structural reform, not another funding request 

• Close the revenue-retention gap and revisit admission caps, while protecting affordability for public institutions. Private-funded cultural spaces proving the demand from visitors and the spillover effects on local businesses. The limits on JMM for example are bureaucratic legacies, requiring legislative changes to be unlocked. Greater public feedback mechanisms, polling on museum and exhibition quality, and increasing awareness towards the important role of museums, are all key to unlocking this change.  

• Expand the machinery to use tools that already exist: a sponsorship function, donor-recognition tiers, and matching-grant mechanisms that make corporate partnership administratively easy. This builds on existing government incentives to crowd-in sponsorship and funding, but importantly establishes funding growth as a key function enabling public institutions to look beyond annual government budgets and planning cycles.  

• Most importantly, give public institutions real autonomy: multi-year funding instead of annual budget allocations, the ability to retain and redeploy earned revenue, curatorial hiring power, and commercial subsidiaries for F&B, retail and events. 

Heritage-led development, private and GLIC-backed alike, has already proven the public appetite. It’s time public museums got the same chance.

Author: 

The post Culture’s Missing Middle: Why Malaysia’s Public-funded Museums Need More than Just Funding appeared first on PEMANDU Associates.

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On 2 October 2026, Formula 1 returns to Sepang for the first time in nine years. Malaysia stepped in at short notice to host Bahrain’s round after regional conflict in the Middle East disrupted the calendar. Made possible by the strong government-to-government relationship between Malaysia and Bahrain, it is a timely example of what trusted partnerships can achieve when both sides are committed to getting it done, and done well.

The return is worth celebrating, and it also opens an opportunity that reaches well beyond the chequered flag.

Between 1999 and 2017, Sepang International Circuit (SIC) hosted eighteen consecutive Malaysian Grands Prix. By the time Malaysia stepped away, the economic case had become increasingly difficult to sustain. The hosting fee was becoming harder to justify against the returns the race was generating. That is not an argument against F1. It is an argument for doing it differently.

Under specific conditions, with deliberate policy choices, the event can catalyse a broader economic programme that lasts well beyond the race weekend. The difference between those two outcomes is not the race. It is everything built around it.

The sport Malaysia parted from is not the sport it is returning to

When Malaysia left the F1 calendar in 2017, the sport was at a viewership low with an average of 352 million global viewers, down from a peak of 600 million in 2008. The business case for paying RM300 million annually in hosting fees was genuinely difficult to make and the government made the rational decision to exit the sporting circuit from 2018 onwards. 

Since then, F1 has transformed itself. Under Liberty Media’s ownership, F1 rebuilt its commercial model with a digital-first approach, targeting younger audience and new markets. By 2025, F1’s global viewership had reached 827 million. The sport’s fanbase exceeded 830 million people, with 64 percent growth since 2018. Malaysia now returns to a sport whose audience has more than doubled since it last raced at Sepang.

Figure 1: F1 global viewership, 2013-2026

The calendar has expanded to match, between 2017 and 2026 F1 added Miami, Las Vegas, Jeddah, Qatar and Madrid with Bangkok on the cards for 2028. Each addition represents a government that made an active decision to invest into the sport as Malaysia decided to step away.

Figure 2: F1 calendar changes 2017-2026

Few circuits return to the calendar once they leave. Sepang’s selection as a short-notice host places it alongside circuits such as Imola and Istanbul, which F1 brought back during the disrupted 2020 season, and reflects confidence in its infrastructure and organising team.

Why Malaysia left and what the cost structure reveals

The Sepang Grand Prix was dropped from the calendar in 2017 following declining spectator numbers and a hosting fee structure that had become untenable. Sports minister Hannah Yeoh confirmed in 2025 that returning to F1 would cost RM300 million annually, covering hosting rights estimated at US$70 – 80 million, plus local preparation costs. A three-to-five-year contract commitment would amount to RM1.5 billion. The government ruled it out as unaffordable.

The 2026 arrangement is categorically different because Malaysia is hosting Bahrain’s race, rather than its own, the hosting fee has been waived. Bahrain covered those costs. Malaysia’s expenditure is the RM16 million it allocates annually for Sepang’s maintenance. The Prime Minister described it accurately: Malaysia is effectively hosting for free.

Malaysia’s head start

Malaysia is not starting from zero. PETRONAS has been a title partner of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team since 2010 – one of the most sustained and visible corporate partnerships in global motorsport. Sepang is purpose-built world-class circuit infrastructure, designed to Hermann Tilke’s specification and part of a broader Klang Valley development programme that also produced KLIA. The automotive and manufacturing cluster in the Klang Valley has genuine technical depth. The tourism and hospitality sector is mature and internationally competitive. 

These are the ingredients of a recipe, and October 2026 is a chance to showcase it. A MIER study in 2025 estimated that a revived Grand Prix could contribute RM1.2 billion to the national economy over five years, but only under specific conditions, including accessible ticket pricing, broad local subcontracting, and a sustained economic programme around the race. Those conditions do not arise automatically from the race being held.  

Interest across Southeast Asia underlines the value of an F1 slot in the region. Singapore is contracted until at least 2028, Thailand has approved a US$1.2 billion bid for a Bangkok street race from 2028, and Indonesia is in discussions with Liberty Media. Sepang enters that conversation with an advantage newer bids cannot match: a proven, purpose-built circuit and an organising team that has run world championship events for more than two decades.

The recipe

Hosts that have made F1 work economically point to a consistent set of conditions, in which the race is integrated into the wider economy.

The race is three days. The opportunity is longer.

Malaysia has an F1 race back at Sepang, even if only for one weekend, as we step in to help Bahrain deliver its Grand Prix. It is an unusual opportunity, and perhaps one worth simply making the most of. For now, this is one race, one weekend, and a chance to remind ourselves of what Sepang can still mean to global motorsport.

Perhaps it is the F1 enthusiast in me, but I hope this weekend does more than bring the sound of Formula 1 back to Sepang. I hope it reignites interest in Malaysian motorsport, brings a new generation into the sport, and starts a conversation about what could come next. There is no need to get ahead of ourselves. But if October 2026 becomes the weekend that Malaysia begins to dream about Formula 1 again, that would be a pretty good place to start.ther than a trophy on a shelf. Singapore took sixteen years and S$2.2 billion in tourism receipts to reach that conclusion. Malaysia can reach it faster, because the evidence is already there.

Author: 

Vyshnav Menon

Senior Associate

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Let’s transform together. Contact us at: https://pemandu.org/contact-us/

Sources

1. F1 viewership data: Formulapedia; F1 Mid-Season Review 2026; Because of Marketing (2024). Peak 2008 figure: 600 million. 2017 low: 352 million. 2025/2026 figure: 827–830 million
2. F1 calendar additions and exits: F1 official calendar records; GPDestinations.com; Motor Sport Magazine (2026); F1mix.com circuit database.
3. Malaysia hosting cost: BlackBook Motorsport (August 2025), citing Sports Minister Hannah Yeoh. RM300 million annually; RM1.5 billion over three-to-five-year contract commitment.
4. Malaysia 2026 arrangement: FMT (July 2026); BFM News (July 2026), citing PM Anwar Ibrahim. RM16 million preparation cost; hosting fee waived by Bahrain.
5. Singapore F1 economic data: Singapore Ministry of Trade and Industry written parliamentary reply (October 2025); SCMP (2025).
6. Austin COTA economic impact: Host City News; COTA data cited in BUEA (2024). $2.8 billion cumulative 2012–2015; ~$900 million single race 2023.
7. India and Korea losses: BUEA (2024). India 2013: ~$24 million loss. Korea 2012: ~$37 million loss. Both subsequently removed from calendar.
8. MIER study: Malaysian Institute of Economic Research (2025). Projected RM1.2 billion economic contribution over five years, conditional on accessible pricing and broad local participation. Cited in ROCKSTARmedia (July 2026).
9. Bangkok bid: SportsPro (August 2025); Planet F1. Thai government approved $1.2 billion plan for Bangkok street race from 2028.
10. Sepang CEO on permanent hosting: The Edge Malaysia (July 2026), citing Azhan Shafriman Hanif. RM300 million annual cost; projected three-times return.

The post The Grand Prix Recipe: How Sepang’s return can fuel a lasting economic legacy appeared first on PEMANDU Associates.

Here in Malaysia, we are no strangers to hot weather. We have grown up with it, and yet many people would agree that standing under the midday sun today feels different from what it did 10 or 20 years ago. Whether you’re working on a construction site, playing football, attending a school sports day, or simply walking to your car, the heat feels more unforgiving. Perhaps we are getting older, but perhaps the climate is also changing faster than we would like to admit.

A Season of Tragedy

One thing the internet has done is make distant tragedies feel a little closer. News from the other side of the world arrives on our phones within minutes, and this year there has been no shortage of stories linked to climate change. In South Asia, temperatures climbed above 46°C in some areas. Reports emerged of heat-related deaths in India and Pakistan, although many experts believe the real numbers are higher because heat is often an invisible killer. Unlike floods or earthquakes, heat rarely leaves obvious evidence behind. Europe experienced something similar. Thousands of deaths have been linked to heatwaves across the continent. For many Europeans particularly those living in countries that traditionally enjoy mild summers, it was another harsh reminder that climate change is now a health hazard.

In Nepal, we were deeply saddened by the recent catastrophic flash floods that claimed more than 1,000 lives, with thousands more reported missing. In Indonesia, disturbing images emerged of vast areas engulfed in smoke from forest fires, many believed to be human-induced. Locals were forced to flee their homes, wildlife suffered burns, starvation, and suffocation, while neighbouring countries once again endured days of choking haze.

Malaysia has thankfully avoided large-scale heat-related fatalities, but that does not mean we have escaped unscathed. Farmers have had to deal with prolonged dry conditions, water levels in some reservoirs have dropped, and sectors that depend on predictable weather have begun feeling the strain. The government has responded with measures such as cloud seeding in several states to replenish water supplies, however for a trade-dependent nation, these impacts cannot be taken lightly. The burden falls disproportionately on vulnerable communities, particularly smallholders and lower-income households whose livelihoods depend heavily on stable weather conditions. 

Why This Matters

Climate change often feels abstract because we tend to talk about it in terms of decimals and projections. A rise of 1.5°C, 2°C, or 2.5°C. The numbers sound small, but the consequences are enormous and deadly. Every additional fraction of a degree increases the frequency and severity of extreme weather; heatwaves become longer, droughts become more intense making crops harder to grow, and energy demand rises as more people rely on air conditioning simply to get through the day.

When the Paris Agreement was signed in 2015, there was a sense that the world was finally moving in the right direction. The international community of 194 countries committed to keeping global warming well below 2°C while striving to limit warming to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels. Yet today, the world has already experienced periods exceeding the 1.5°C threshold, and current projections place us on a pathway toward approximately doubled the threshold by the end of the century, despite countless summits, declarations, and promises. What we are facing now is the result of decades of insufficient action, delayed commitments, and a persistent gap between a roadmap and implementation, and to put it simply, we are not doing enough. 

The uncomfortable question then becomes: who should be held responsible? 

Who is Responsible?

This is where the conversation becomes uncomfortable. Whenever climate change is discussed, there is often an expectation that everyone should do their part. That is true, but it is also true that not everyone has contributed equally to the problem. George Orwell captured a similar idea in Animal Farm with the famous line:

“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”

In the context of climate change, one could adapt this to say:

“All countries are responsible for tackling climate change, but some are more responsible than others.”

In Orwell’s novel, the pigs gradually consolidate power while maintaining the illusion of equality. Likewise, in climate negotiations, all nations are expected to contribute to emission reductions. However, the reality is that responsibility is far from equal. Historically, industrialised countries built their prosperity through centuries of carbon-intensive growth and collectively account for a disproportionate share of cumulative greenhouse gas emissions. Meanwhile, many developing nations that contributed relatively little to the problem are often the most vulnerable to its consequences and are expected to shoulder comparable adaptation and mitigation burdens. This imbalance lies at the heart of ongoing debates about climate justice.

The situation becomes even more complicated when current emissions are considered. Perhaps the greatest irony is that the world’s most powerful economy, the United States, has chosen to distance itself from key international climate commitments, sending a signal that climate action is no longer its priority and negotiations with regards to this is now off the table. To simplify what happens from the Animal Farm analogy, the world’s largest historical emitter helped write the rules of the farm, benefited from the harvest for decades, and then stepped away from shouldering the responsibility of the collective commitments when it came time to share the burden, and yet, the rest of the us are expected to just accept that this is how it would be.

All countries have a role to play in reducing emissions, but some countries bear a much greater responsibility because they became wealthy through decades, and in some cases, centuries of carbon-intensive industrialisation. Many developing countries contributed relatively little to the problem yet now find themselves on the front lines of climate impacts. They are dealing with floods, droughts, rising temperatures, and food insecurity while often lacking the resources needed to adapt. That frustration is understandable and very much justified.

In the aftermath of devastating climate-related disasters, including recent deadly flooding in Nepal, calls for climate compensation and greater accountability from the world’s largest emitters, specifically the United States, China and India, have grown louder. Such demands reflect a broader sentiment that those who contributed most to the problem should play a larger role in financing the solution.

The Role of Big Emitters

The numbers tell a compelling story. According to the Carbon Majors Database, 71% of industrial greenhouse gas emissions since 1988 can be traced to just 100 fossil fuel producers. Even more strikingly, only 25 corporate and state entities account for over half of those emissions. This highlights an uncomfortable truth that the scale of corporate emissions means that meaningful climate action cannot rely solely on consumer choices. 

Stronger regulation is therefore essential. Governments must move beyond voluntary commitments and establish clear, predictable, and enforceable standards for emissions reductions. More importantly, policies must remain consistent across political cycles as climate action requires long-term certainty. Businesses are unlikely to make substantial investments in decarbonisation if policies constantly change direction. Large corporations carry a disproportionate share of responsibility, not only because of their historical emissions, but because they possess the capital, technology, and supply-chain influence necessary to reduce emissions at scale. Regulators, investors, and consumers are increasingly demanding accountability through comprehensive emissions disclosure and climate-related reporting requirements.

The European Union offers an example of this approach. Facing escalating climate impacts and economic risks, the EU has adopted increasingly stringent regulations that place a direct cost on carbon-intensive activities. The fundamental is simple in a sense that if emissions impose a cost on society, they should also impose a cost on those generating them. By embedding climate considerations into financial and operational decision-making, businesses are given a powerful incentive to decarbonise. Hit them where it hurts most; their bottom line, and the rest will follow.

What Can We Do?

It would be easy to end on a pessimistic note, but that would miss an important point. None of this means individual actions are irrelevant. Personal choices alone will not solve climate change, but they remain an important part of the broader solution. Individual actions shape consumer demand, strengthen community resilience, and create the social and political pressure necessary for systemic change. Voting for climate-conscious policies, reducing household energy consumption, using public transportation where possible, and supporting sustainable products and food systems all contribute to the transition toward a lower-carbon future.

Climate change may be driven by governments and corporations, but its consequences are ultimately borne by ordinary people. The heat we are experiencing today is not merely a warning about the future because the scary reality is already here today. Do we simply let go and let God, or do we act quickly enough to prevent today’s crisis from becoming tomorrow’s catastrophe?

Author: 

Afiqah Mohamad

Associate Vice President

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Let’s transform together. Contact us at: https://pemandu.org/contact-us/  

The post The Animal Farm of Climate Change appeared first on PEMANDU Associates.

But there is another form of infrastructure that determines whether these systems actually work for the people they are meant to serve. 

That infrastructure is empathy. 

I do not mean empathy as sentiment, sympathy or simply being nice. In the context of nation-building, empathy is the disciplined ability to understand how different people experience a policy, service or physical environment—and to use that understanding to design something that works in real life. Applying it does not mean lowering standards or diluting the hard KPIs by which public sector performance is measured. It means adding a second, equally rigorous question alongside them: not only was this delivered, but can the person in front of it actually use it. 

A nation can have world-class infrastructure on paper and still fail the person standing three feet in front of it. 

A railway station may be modern, but can a blind commuter navigate it independently? Can an older passenger hear the announcements clearly? Can someone recovering from knee surgery reach the platform without climbing a long flight of stairs? 

A government service may be fully digital, but what happens to the citizen with limited digital literacy, an unreliable internet connection or difficulty understanding the language used? 

A school may apply the same attendance and assessment rules to every student. But do those rules recognise the child grieving the death of a parent, moving between foster homes or living with a learning disability that has never been diagnosed? 

These are not marginal scenarios. They test whether our systems understand the society they are intended to serve. 

We are designing for a diversity that already exists 

Too often, policies and infrastructure are designed around an imagined “average person”: physically able, digitally connected, emotionally stable, financially secure and capable of navigating administrative complexity. That person does not represent the full population—and the gap is neither small nor temporary. 

The World Health Organisation estimates that 1.3 billion people—approximately one in six people worldwide—experience a significant disability. Crucially, the WHO explains that disability results from the interaction between a person’s health condition and environmental or social barriers, including inaccessible transportation, public buildings and limited support (WHO). A person’s condition may create a limitation, but the way we design the environment can either reduce or magnify it. Disability is also not a fixed category separating one group from everybody else: any of us may experience reduced mobility after an accident or surgery, lose some vision or hearing as we age, or need to push a pram or help an elderly parent through a crowded station. 

That population is also growing. Malaysia’s population is ageing: in 2026, people aged 65 and above comprised 8.4% of the population, up from 8.0% in 2025, and the country’s old-age dependency ratio rose from 11.4 to 11.9 older persons for every 100 people of working age (Department of Statistics Malaysia). Designing for people with limited mobility, then, is not about accommodating a small minority. It is about preparing for the society we already have—and the society we are becoming. 

Public transport must be measured through the complete journey 

Transport is one of the clearest examples of why empathy must be treated as infrastructure. 

We usually assess transport systems through technical performance: passenger capacity, service frequency, kilometres completed, travel time and cost. These indicators matter, but they do not tell us whether every passenger can complete the journey safely and with dignity. As of December 2025, Rapid Rail was carrying more than 1.03 million commuters every day (Prasarana). At that scale, accessibility cannot be treated as a supplementary feature—a lift that is out of service, an announcement that cannot be heard or a connection requiring passengers to cross an unsafe road can affect thousands of journeys in a single day. 

A tactile pathway that leads into an obstruction does not serve the blind passenger who depends on it. Priority seating means little if there isn’t enough time for someone using a walking aid to sit before the bus moves. And a station lift is no use if the pavement leading to the station is broken, obstructed or disconnected from a safe crossing. 

True accessibility must be measured from door to destination. It includes the pavement leading to the stop, the reliability of lifts and escalators, the clarity of information during disruptions and the availability of human assistance when technology is insufficient. Empathy changes the question from “Was the infrastructure delivered?” to “Can people actually use it?” That is not a softer measure. It is a more complete one. 

The worker’s journey does not end at the factory gate 

That same door-to-destination thinking applies just as urgently once the commute becomes a matter of livelihood—and PERKESO’s own data shows why. 

In 2023, PERKESO recorded 82,876 employment-related accidents. Of these, 38,454—or 46.4%—were commuting accidents. More strikingly, commuting accidents accounted for 750 of the 1,060 fatal cases recorded that year: 70.8% of worker fatalities, or approximately two deaths every day (PERKESO). 

These numbers challenge the assumption that responsibility for worker safety begins and ends at the workplace gate. A worker who travels by motorcycle because no affordable or reliable public transport serves an early-morning shift is not simply making an individual transport choice. A poorly lit walk from a railway station to an industrial area, or a shift schedule that requires travel when public transport is unavailable, are not incidents that happen to the system—they are conditions the system has set. An empathetic system does not immediately assign blame; it first seeks to understand the circumstances shaping behaviour. In practice, that can mean employers mapping how their workers travel, aligning shifts with public transport schedules, providing safe transport for late-night employees, or working with local authorities to fix dangerous first- and last-mile connections. It can also mean connecting PERKESO’s accident data with transport, location and working-hour information, so prevention addresses the conditions behind recurring incidents rather than the incidents alone. 

The same principle should follow the worker past the point of injury. PERKESO’s policies must remain consistent, accountable, and protected from abuse—but consistency is not the same as rigidity, and rules designed only for standard cases can leave people facing the most difficult circumstances least able to access the support built for them. A person coping with a serious injury may have to navigate forms, medical reports, appointments and deadlines precisely when their physical and emotional capacity is at its lowest. A family that has lost its principal income earner may struggle to determine which benefits apply, what evidence is required and which institution to approach first. 

Empathy here does not mean abandoning rules or approving every application. It means designing rules around the realities of the people expected to comply with them: simpler language, assisted application channels, clear case tracking, institutions that share verified information so the same documents are not submitted repeatedly, case-management support for complex circumstances, and clearly governed exceptions where a standard process would otherwise produce an unjust outcome. 

PERKESO’s Return to Work approach already demonstrates this kind of institutional empathy in practice. Its biopsychosocial model recognises that recovery is not only medical—it can involve physical rehabilitation, psychological adjustment, vocational support, workplace accommodation and the ability to regain a sustainable income (PERKESO). The opportunity is to extend that same human-centred thinking across the citizen’s entire journey, from prevention and application through to rehabilitation, employment and sustained independence. 

Equal treatment does not always produce equal opportunity 

The same distinction between standard and barrier holds in education. 

UNICEF estimates that nearly 240 million children worldwide have some form of disability. These children are more likely to have never attended school or to drop out, facing barriers that include stigma, inaccessible facilities, inadequate learning materials and a lack of appropriately trained teachers (UNICEF). In Malaysia, UNICEF previously found that 43% of surveyed Malaysians believed children with disabilities would be disruptive in a mainstream classroom—a figure that points to a barrier deeper than school facilities: the assumptions through which we judge who belongs in a conventional learning environment (UNICEF Malaysia). 

Children do not arrive at school carrying equal circumstances. One may have a quiet home, private tuition and parents who can advocate for them. Another may have lost a parent, taken on additional responsibilities at home or begun moving through a care system. A child with dyslexia, attention difficulties or another learning difference may be intelligent and capable, yet repeatedly treated as careless because the system recognises only one way of learning. 

Applying empathy does not mean lowering educational standards. It means distinguishing between the standard we want a child to achieve and the unnecessary barriers preventing that child from reaching it. Flexible teaching methods, early identification, counselling after bereavement, reasonable accommodations and better communication with caregivers do not compromise excellence—they allow more children to demonstrate their potential. 

Exclusion carries a national cost 

Transport, work and education are not separate case studies—they are the same person’s journey at three different stages of life, and the cost of getting any one of them wrong compounds across the other two. 

The International Labour Organisation reports that only three in ten persons with disabilities are active in the labour market, and that when persons with disabilities are employed, they tend to earn less than workers without disabilities (ILO). A child excluded from mainstream schooling, an adult who cannot safely reach a workplace, a worker who cannot access support after an injury: each is a point at which a capable person is pushed out of participation—not for lack of ability, but because the system made participation unnecessarily difficult. The result is potential workers, entrepreneurs, taxpayers, caregivers and community leaders a nation simply does not get to use. 

This is why empathy is not separate from productivity. It is one of the conditions required to unlock it. It also shapes something harder to measure but just as material: whether people trust the institutions serving them enough to participate, comply and stay engaged through reform. Every interaction with a public institution tells a citizen something—whether the system sees them, understands their circumstances and considers their participation worth designing for. 

Empathy must be converted into a method 

The danger is that organisations speak about empathy but leave it as an aspiration. For it to become infrastructure, it must be built into how policies and services are designed, implemented and measured. 

First, listen before designing. Engage the people who will use a service, especially those most likely to encounter barriers. Representation at the end of a process is consultation. Representation at the beginning is co-design. 

Second, test the real journey. Do not assess only whether each component exists. Follow the citizen’s entire experience—from finding information and reaching a facility to completing an application, receiving a decision and resolving a problem. 

Third, design for different circumstances. A strong system can maintain clear standards while providing more than one way to meet them. 

Fourth, measure exclusion as a delivery failure. Track who cannot access a service, who abandons the process, whose applications are repeatedly rejected and which communities remain absent from the intended outcomes. 

Finally, close the feedback loop. People must be able to see that their experience has led to an action, a design improvement or at least a clear explanation. 

Building nations that work for real people 

At PEMANDU Associates, we often speak about translating ambitious strategies into results at the three-feet level—the point at which a plan meets the person it is supposed to help. 

Empathy belongs at that level. It asks policymakers to move beyond the meeting-room view, engineers to experience the journey, educators to understand the child, and institutions to see the human being behind the application number. 

No system can anticipate every possible circumstance. But we can build institutions capable of listening, learning and responding when reality does not fit neatly into a standard category. 

The fullest potential of a nation is not found only in the strength of its economy or the sophistication of its infrastructure. It is found in how many people are genuinely able to participate in, contribute to and benefit from its progress. 

Empathy does not weaken systems, nor does it soften the KPIs used to judge them. Properly applied, it is one of the conditions those KPIs depend on. 

Author: 

Hilyah Raffick

Vice President

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Let’s transform together. Contact us at: https://pemandu.org/contact-us/  

The post The Hard Case for a Soft Word: Empathy as National Infrastructure appeared first on PEMANDU Associates.

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With the recent release of the Tabung Haji RCI report, Malaysians were once again reminded of the consequences of corporate mismanagement and governance failures. The report speaks for itself in highlighting the governance gaps, issues and lessons that organisations should reflect upon.

However, there are a few takeaways that I believe are worth sharing.

1. The system shapes the operating environment.

It is great that the report highlights the importance of having a strong regulatory and governance framework. Just as water takes the shape of the container it is placed in, organisations operate within the boundaries, incentives and constraints created by the environment around them. Strong governance starts with strong foundations.

2. The third line of defence must have the courage to challenge.

An effective system of checks and balances is only as strong as the voice willing to call out what is wrong and calling as they are. Whether it is independent assurance or oversight bodies such as Jabatan Audit Negara (JAN), the third line of defence goes beyond identifying issues. It is about providing an independent view of reality, challenging where necessary, and making sure risks are clearly heard. Non negotiables, are truly not negotiable.

3. Trust is an organisational asset that must be protected.

Given what Tabung Haji represents to the Malaysian public, it is unsurprising that the findings have attracted significant scrutiny. It serves as an important reminder that organisations must manage more than just financial and operational risks. Trust, reputation and public confidence are equally valuable assets that take years to build but can be damaged overnight. Take years to build, but a moment to destroy.

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But above all, one observation stands out.

We continue to see governance failures and corporate scandals emerge across industries and jurisdictions, globally. This is despite increasingly sophisticated governance frameworks, tighter regulations, stronger oversight mechanisms and continuous efforts by organisations and regulators alike to stay ahead of evolving risks.

The reality is that frameworks have limits.

Culture is the control behind every control.

I have sat in boardrooms where directors asked: “How can fraud still happen when there are two approval points designed as controls?” The answer is simple: because two people can collude. 

Controls are necessary, but they are not sufficient. You can have the best policies, strongest governance frameworks and most sophisticated risk management processes, but if the culture allows people to bypass them, everything becomes fragile.

At the end of the day, it is about what leaders demonstrate, what behaviours organisations reward, and what people do when no one is watching. That is what makes or breaks organisations.

This is also consistent with how we think about transformation at PEMANDU Associates. While frameworks, structures and processes provide an important foundation, lasting change also depends on the behaviours and discipline that bring them to life. Ultimately, it is about creating an environment where accountability, problem-solving and continuous improvement become part of how an organisation operates every day.

The true measure of transformation is not what happens while we are there. It is what happens after we leave.

Author:

Aidil Aizzuddin

Manager

——-

Let’s transform together. Contact us at: https://pemandu.org/contact-us/

The post Beyond Governance: The Culture That Makes It Work appeared first on PEMANDU Associates.

The Moment Has Arrived

When the Strait of Hormuz effectively closed in early 2026, and remained under heavy restriction thereafter, the consequences arrived without ceremony. Brent crude breached USD 100 a barrel. Across Southeast Asia, fuel queues formed, subsidies strained, and governments scrambled to release emergency reserves. The Philippines declared a national energy emergency. Myanmar restricted private vehicle use to alternate days. Indonesia, despite being an oil producer itself, found itself managing a 22-day fuel reserve with increasing anxiety. The International Energy Agency described it as the greatest global energy security challenge in modern history [1].

Malaysia, as both an oil and gas producer, was comparatively cushioned. The government moved quickly to maintain RON95 at RM1.99 per litre under the BUDI95 scheme, absorbing the cost differential as global prices surged [2]. It was the right call for the short term. But it also illuminated a deeper problem – Malaysia’s instinctive response to an energy shock is to protect the conditions that make car ownership the only viable option for most of its people.

This is the moment to ask a harder question — not how Malaysia weathers this energy shock, but whether the country is prepared to use it as the catalyst to rethink, fundamentally, how its people move, and what it would take to build a mobility ecosystem that is less exposed to the next one.

How Malaysia Got Here

The story of how Malaysia became one of the most car-dependent nations in Asia is a story of decisions that made sense in their time, whose cumulative weight is now a structural liability.

Post-independence development required mobility. Connecting peninsular towns, opening economic corridors, enabling a growing population to reach jobs, education, and markets. Private vehicle was the instrument of that access, and policy followed accordingly. Proton was established to make car ownership a national project, fuel subsidies kept running costs low and roads and highways absorbed the majority of infrastructure spending. The logic was coherent – a developing economy needed its people to move, and the car was the fastest way to enable that.

What was not built, in parallel, was a credible alternative. Public transport was never designed to compete with private vehicles; it was designed to serve those who could not afford one. Urban planning followed road infrastructure rather than shaping it. Residential development sprawled outward from city centres in patterns that made walking impractical and transit uneconomical to serve. Over decades, the built environment became structurally aligned with the private vehicle and hostile to everything else.

The numbers reflect this plainly. Malaysia has approximately 17.2 million registered cars and 16.8 million motorcycles [3]. In the Klang Valley, only around 20% of daily trips are made by public transport — compared with 57% in Singapore, 72% in Seoul, and 87% in Hong Kong [4]. In Kuala Lumpur, car ownership has been estimated at roughly two vehicles per person [5]. Transportation costs such as vehicle ownership, fuel, and maintenance, consume an estimated 20% to 30% of monthly household expenditure for Klang Valley residents [5]. This burden falls hardest on lower-income households. The World Bank’s 2024 report on inequality and mobility in Malaysia finds that fuel subsidies have historically benefited better-off households disproportionately, and that better-targeted reform could reduce inequality while generating fiscal savings [6].

The environmental cost is equally clear. Malaysia’s Low Carbon Mobility Blueprint 2021–2030 documents that the transport sector accounts for 20% of Malaysia’s total GHG emissions, with road transport alone responsible for 18%; the second-largest GHG-emitting sector in the country [7]. Transport is also the second-fastest growing energy consumer, driven almost entirely by private vehicle use. The Blueprint sets an explicit target of 40% public transport modal share which is a target Malaysia has aspired to for over a decade without achieving [7].

These numbers reflect a country that was designed around cars and an energy system left increasingly fragile by that design.

What the Research Tells Us About Why People Don’t Switch

One of the most instructive findings in recent Malaysian transport research is that the problem is not that Malaysians are unwilling to consider public transport in principle. It is that the system has never offered them a compelling enough reason to switch in practice.

A 2023 study by the Malaysian Institute of Road Safety Research (MIROS), examining willingness to shift among 512 road users across Peninsular Malaysia, found an average willingness-to-shift score of just 2.67 out of 10 [8]. The most commonly cited barriers were comfort and convenience of the private vehicle (38.8% of respondents) and dissatisfaction with the current public transport system (34.8%). Long travel times, family logistics and the perceived inflexibility of fixed schedules were also significant deterrents.

The same study reveals when specific improvements are introduced, willingness shifts dramatically. Regular and predictable public transport schedules produced the highest response (mean score of 6.76 out of 10), followed closely by a 20% reduction in fares (6.71) and increased park-and-ride parking at stations (6.69) [8]. This suggests Malaysians value reliability and predictability more than they value the car itself — qualities the current system does not consistently deliver.

Importantly, “push” measures such as fuel price increases, toll hikes, and higher parking fees received significantly lower willingness scores, suggesting that financial disincentives alone will not shift behaviour if the alternative remains unpredictable and incomplete [8]. Mode shift requires pull measures — making public transport genuinely better — alongside demand-side incentives.

The MIROS research also surfaces a regional dimension that deserves sustained policy attention. The central region showed the highest willingness to shift (3.14 out of 10), while the northern (2.05) and eastern (2.19) regions showed the lowest [8]. This reflects infrastructure availability, not cultural attitudes. Where public transport does not exist as a credible option, willingness to use it is predictably low. This makes the case for network extension beyond the Klang Valley a behavioural argument as much as an infrastructure one.

What is Keeping People in Their Cars

Understanding why Malaysians continue to drive despite the cumulative costs comes down to system design, not attitude. As Wan Agyl Wan Hassan, founder of transport think tank MY Mobility Vision, has argued, Malaysia has largely delivered on infrastructure expansion, while key outcome indicators — public transport modal share, emissions, affordability — have stagnated or moved the wrong way [9]. Malaysia has built much of the hardware it needs; what it has not built is the system around that hardware. Public transport in Malaysia fails quietly at every seam, and those accumulated failures add up to a journey most rational commuters will not choose.

The last mile remains the first failure. Malaysia has spent more than RM120 billion building rail infrastructure in the Klang Valley, creating one of the most extensive urban rail systems in Southeast Asia [10]. Yet for thousands of commuters, the most stressful part of the journey is simply getting to the station. Feeder buses remain unreliable and infrequent, some arriving every 30 to 60 minutes, many delayed by the very congestion the rail system is supposed to alleviate [10]. The MRT Kajang and Putrajaya Lines, the three LRT corridors, KTM Komuter, and the LRT Shah Alam Line, which began operations at the end of June 2026 after multiple delays, collectively cover significant ground. The MRT3 Circle Line has received final approval, with construction expected from 2027. But a rail network is only as useful as the journey it completes, and that journey ends not at the station but at the destination. Research consistently identifies first- and last-mile connectivity as a decisive barrier: inconvenient or unsafe access to stations can undermine perceived accessibility and deter mode shift even when the main transit service itself is functional [8].

This points to a distinction the governance argument above does not fully make. Institutional reform and rail investment can deliver the trunk network and the intercity story — the ECRL corridor, the Klang Valley’s rail spine, a future Trans-Borneo line. They cannot retrofit density onto suburbs that have already been built the way Malaysia’s have. Four decades of car-first planning will not be undone by better feeder bus schedules, however well the schedules are governed.

For the Klang Valley’s existing low-density suburbs, then, the answer is not a smaller version of the trunk network. It is a different mode, treated as permanent rather than as a stopgap. Arlington, Texas — a city of 400,000 people that has had no fixed-route bus network since 1934 — replaced the idea of a bus route with citywide, on-demand microtransit, on the reasoning that no fixed schedule makes sense at that density regardless of how well it is run [23]. Innisfil, a similarly sprawled town in Ontario, calculated that a single bus route would serve roughly a fifth of residents at a cost the town could not justify, and instead subsidises on-demand ride-hailing as its public transit system [24]. Malaysia already has an equivalent in Kumpool’s on-demand shuttle model; the open question is whether it becomes a permanent layer of national transport policy or remains a pilot.

This changes what a mobility commission should be asked to build. Along new corridors — Kuantan, Kota Kinabalu, the ECRL stations — its job is to shape density around rail as it is laid down. In the Klang Valley’s existing suburbs, its job is to commission flexible, on-demand transit as the permanent first- and last-mile layer for a geography that is not going to change, rather than waiting for fixed routes to eventually catch up.

Reliability is a prerequisite. A commuter who has been stranded twice does not merely complain — they revert to the car, often permanently. The MIROS study found that regular and predictable schedules were the single most powerful intervention for improving willingness to shift [8]. People will accept a longer journey if it is dependable, but not a shorter one that carries genuine uncertainty. Addressing reliability is an operational and governance challenge more than a capital one, which means it can be fixed faster than a new rail line is built, if institutional will exists.

Walkability is infrastructure. For decades, Malaysia has been trapped in car-centric urban planning, turning cities into sprawling, traffic-clogged landscapes where pedestrians are overlooked and cyclists are nearly invisible [11]. As one commentator has put it, walking is treated in Malaysian policy as a beautification project – the responsibility of local councils, something for tourists in Bukit Bintang — rather than as a national economic strategy or a key pillar of mobility [12]. Singapore’s underground pedestrian networks connect major transit hubs and commercial zones, making the walk between modes feasible regardless of weather. Tokyo’s neighbourhood design ensures that daily needs are walkable from transit stations, with continuous, shaded footpaths as a baseline expectation. Malaysia’s Low Carbon Mobility Blueprint explicitly identifies the promotion of active and micro-mobility (walking and cycling as one of its ten core strategies for GHG and energy reduction) [7]. Walkability is embedded in the decarbonisation agenda, and yet it remains chronically underfunded.

Integration is the missing governance layer. One agency expands highways while another tries to increase public transport ridership. One authority approves sprawling developments while another talks about sustainability. Local councils neglect pavements, cycle paths, and pedestrian crossings. The result is a country where driving becomes the only practical option, even for short trips [13]. Seoul’s T-money card and Tokyo’s Suica have made the multi-modal journey — plan once, pay once, travel across every mode — the default experience for decades. In the Klang Valley, the handoff between rail, bus, and e-hailing remains fragmented. Different payment systems, different apps, no single view of the complete journey. The Low Carbon Mobility Blueprint identifies Mobility as a Service (MaaS) as one of the key areas for green technology mainstreaming [7]. The concept exists in policy. The delivery remains some distance away.

The Governance Gap at the Centre of It All

Underlying all four gaps is a more fundamental problem: Malaysia’s transport system is institutionally leaderless.

When SPAD was abolished in 2018, its functions were distributed across APAD, Prasarana, local councils, and PLANMalaysia. Today, when an MRT station lacks a walkway, everyone blames someone else. No single body is accountable for the complete journey [14]. The government’s own National Transport Policy 2019–2030 and Kuala Lumpur Structure Plan 2040 promise a shift toward public transport and active mobility — better buses, safer walking and cycling, transit-oriented development. However, without a unified institution to plan, regulate, and enforce across all modes, these commitments remain difficult to deliver coherently [15].

The case for a dedicated mobility commission — a Suruhanjaya Mobiliti Malaysia — has been gaining traction in policy circles. Rather than reinstating SPAD as it was, what is needed is a new institution for a new era: one that plans, regulates, and is accountable for all forms of movement including trains, buses, walking, cycling, and micro-mobility, with mode-share targets, safety benchmarks, and equity indicators as its core performance framework [14]. Its goal should be clear – to lift public and active transport modal share to at least 40% the target Malaysia has been missing for a generation [7].

Where Singapore’s Land Transport Authority made the city-state move efficiently, Malaysia’s equivalent could be designed to make it move fairly with direct planning powers, local representation, and a mission centred on equity and access, not just throughput [14]. Budget 2026 allocated over RM12 billion for transport and road-related projects, with Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim describing mobility as “the lifeblood of the economy and the people’s livelihoods” [16]. 

The Pipeline That Cannot Be Wasted

Malaysia is not standing still on transport infrastructure. A significant pipeline of rail investment is either under construction or in active planning and this represents both a genuine opportunity and a serious obligation to get the ecosystem right around these assets.

The ECRL is the most immediate and substantial. The 665-kilometre line connecting Kota Bharu to Gombak, and eventually Port Klang, has reached over 90% construction and operations expected to begin in January 2027 [17]. It will reduce travel time from Kota Bharu to KL from seven hours by road to approximately four hours by rail, connecting the East Coast states of Kelantan, Terengganu, and Pahang to the Klang Valley for the first time by rail. Thailand has indicated interest in extending the line to the Sungai Golok border under Pan-Asia Railway Network aspirations [18]. Its potential as an economic equaliser for historically underserved East Coast communities is real but its value will be determined by what is built around its stations, not just along the tracks. These stations are opportunities for transit-oriented development that, if not deliberately seized through land use planning and first-and-last-mile investment, will yield underutilised assets in areas that remain car-dependent by design.

In the Klang Valley, the Kita Selangor Rail positions itself as the missing link in the state’s connectivity picture. Described by the Selangor MB as “the final piece of the puzzle that would connect industry, people, and major transport infrastructure in Selangor and the Klang Valley” [19], the proposed 200-kilometre network which is currently in feasibility study, would run from Labu in Negeri Sembilan northward through Shah Alam, Klang, and up the Selangor coast to Sabak Bernam, connecting Port Klang, KLIA, and Sultan Abdul Aziz Shah Airport in Subang with planned integration points with the ECRL [20]. It is a ten-year commitment minimum, with financing and phasing still to be resolved.

In Penang, construction of the 29-kilometre Mutiara Line LRT is confirmed. It is targeted for completion in December 2031 and represents the island state’s first rail transit system — a structural shift in how Penang manages its growing mobility pressure. Budget 2026 confirmed that construction of the Mutiara Line has commenced, expected to benefit 1.8 million residents and 3.5 million tourists annually [16].

In Borneo, a 12-month feasibility study for the Trans-Borneo Railway linking Sabah, Sarawak, Brunei, and Kalimantan, funded at RM7 million under the 12th Malaysia Plan began in June 2025, with results expected by the third quarter of 2026 [21]. If implemented, this would be among Southeast Asia’s most ambitious cross-border infrastructure projects, transforming East Malaysia from a region connected almost entirely by road and air to one with a rail backbone spanning the island of Borneo. 

The Gemas–Johor Bahru electrified double track, completed and handed to the government in December 2025, has strengthened the southern rail spine. Johor is pressing for federal approval of a domestic rail system ahead of the JB-Singapore Rapid Transit System link opening in 2027, a 4-kilometre shuttle designed to carry up to 10,000 passengers per hour, which will funnel significant volumes into Bukit Chagar station that road infrastructure alone cannot absorb [18].

To support Malaysia’s low-carbon mobility goals alongside this rail expansion, Budget 2026 committed to 300 Demand Responsive Transit vans for first- and last-mile access, and 1,450 electric buses to be procured in phases until 2030 [16]. The MY50 travel pass, which recorded 2.6 million sales and helped users save up to 67% on monthly travel costs, shows that demand-side incentives for public transport do work when the offer is compelling [22].

This pipeline is impressive in its ambition but has to be connected into a system that serves the complete journey. 

The Transformation Malaysia Can Choose

Twenty years from now, Malaysia’s cities will be home to significantly more people, more economic activity, and more daily journeys than they manage today. The question is what system those journeys will move through.

One version of that future is a scaled-up version of the present: more vehicles on wider roads, somewhat electrified, served by a rail network that has grown but remains underutilised because the ecosystem around it was never properly addressed. Congestion remains the tax on daily life. Household transport costs remain a persistent drain on B40 and M40 families. The option to live without a car remains unavailable to most.

Another version looks genuinely different. The energy crisis of 2026 proves to be the inflection point when Malaysia chose to act on a systemic vulnerability rather than simply absorb it. The ECRL’s twenty stations become anchors of walkable, mixed-use development. The Kita Selangor Rail, the Penang Mutiara Line, and the MRT3 Circle Line are built not just as assets but as systems, with last-mile connections, reliable feeders, and integrated ticketing designed alongside the tracks. An empowered, centralised mobility agency gives the transport system someone accountable for the whole journey. The Trans-Borneo Railway feasibility study leads to implementation, giving Sabahans and Sarawakians a surface transport option that no generation before them has had. Over two decades, the Klang Valley’s public transport modal share moves meaningfully toward the 40% target that has been aspirational for a generation and that Malaysia’s own Blueprint has already enshrined [7].

The measure of success in that second future is concrete and human: a middle-income family in Petaling Jaya makes an unforced, practical choice not to own a second car. Not because they cannot afford one but because, finally, they do not need one. A commuter in Kuantan boards the ECRL to KL and arrives confident the journey will take four hours and that the last kilometre will work as well as the first. A young professional in Kota Kinabalu travels between Sabah and Sarawak by rail for the first time in history.

These outcomes are not guaranteed by the infrastructure being built. They become possible only if decisions about governance, land use, reliability, and integration are made alongside the construction.

Malaysia has built hard things before. Building a mobility system that genuinely serves its people rather than merely providing infrastructure for their vehicles is the next one worth committing to.

That work begins now.

Author:

Atiqah Shazlin

Senior Manager

——-

Let’s transform together. Contact us at: https://pemandu.org/contact-us/ 

References

[1] Wikipedia. (2026). 2026 Iran war fuel crisis. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2026_Iran_war_fuel_crisis

[2] Ministry of Finance Malaysia. (2026, March 11). Govt Maintains Targeted Fuel Subsidies, RON95 Remains At RM1.99 Per Litre. Bernama. https://www.mof.gov.my/portal/en/news/press-citations/govt-maintains-targeted-fuel-subsidies-ron95-remains-at-rm1-99-per-litre-mof

[3] ISEAS–Yusof Ishak Institute. (2025). Economics and Politics of Malaysia’s Petrol Subsidy Reform (ISEAS Perspective 2025/68). https://www.iseas.edu.sg/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/ISEAS_Perspective_2025_68.pdf

[4] SC-Abeam. (2020). Comparisons of Cities’ Transportation Modal Shares and Post-Coronavirus Prospects. https://www.sc-abeam.com/and_mobility/en/article/20201203-01/

[5] The Centre. (n.d.). Getting Around: Towards a Decent Daily Commute. https://www.centre.my/post/getting-around-towards-decent-daily-commute

[6] World Bank. (2024). A Fresh Take on Reducing Inequality and Enhancing Mobility in Malaysia. Washington, DC: World Bank. https://www.worldbank.org

[7] Ministry of Environment and Water Malaysia (KASA). (2021). Low Carbon Mobility Blueprint 2021–2030: Decarbonizing Land Transportation. Putrajaya: KASA. http://mgtc.gov.my/storage/2021/11/Low-Carbon-Mobility-Blueprint-2021-2030.pdf

[8] Shabadin, A., Mohamed Jamil, H., Nemmang, M. S., & Ishak, S. Z. (2025). Towards Sustainable Mobility: Willingness to shift to public transport in Peninsular Malaysia. Environment-Behaviour Proceedings Journal, 10(SI41), 115–121. https://doi.org/10.21834/e-bpj.v10iSI41.7737

[9] Wan Agyl Wan Hassan. (2025, December 17). It’s an unfinished system, not infrastructure, that fails Malaysian commuters. Free Malaysia Today. https://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/opinion/2025/12/17/its-an-unfinished-system-not-infrastructure-that-fails-malaysian-commuters

[10] Wan Agyl Wan Hassan. (2025, December 6). When transport policies are a walking contradiction. Free Malaysia Today. https://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/opinion/2025/12/06/when-transport-policies-are-a-walking-contradiction

[11] Free Malaysia Today. (2025, March 27). How to get Malaysians walking and cycling. https://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/opinion/2025/03/27/how-to-get-malaysians-walking-and-cycling

[12] Free Malaysia Today. (2025, November 27). Walking — the RM300bil answer Malaysia keeps ignoring. https://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/opinion/2025/11/27/walking-the-rm300bil-answer-malaysia-keeps-ignoring

[13] Boo Jia Cher. (2026, May 13). To beat the fuel problem, free people from having to drive everywhere. Free Malaysia Today. https://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/opinion/2026/05/13/to-beat-the-fuel-problem-free-people-from-having-to-drive-everywhere

[14] Boo Jia Cher. (2025, October 15). Malaysia needs a mobility commission, not just another transport agency. Free Malaysia Today. https://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/opinion/2025/10/15/malaysia-needs-a-mobility-commission-not-just-another-transport-agency

[15] Free Malaysia Today. (2025, November 15). The NPE2: Yet another billion-ringgit mistake. https://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/opinion/2025/11/15/the-npe-2-yet-another-billion-ringgit-mistake

[16] The Malaysian Reserve. (2025, October 10). Malaysia expands public mobility, rail connectivity with RM8.1b for road safety, low-carbon transport. https://themalaysianreserve.com/2025/10/10/malaysia-expands-public-mobility-rail-connectivity-with-rm8-1b-for-road-safety-low-carbon-transport

[17] Malay Mail. (2026, February 11). ECRL project moves into operations prep after hitting 91.7% construction progress, says Anthony Loke. https://www.malaymail.com/news/malaysia/2026/02/11/ecrl-project-moves-into-operations-prep-after-hitting-917pc-construction-progress-says-anthony-loke/208864

[18] Bernama. (2025, December 21). Key Rail Infrastructure Projects Advance Across Malaysia In 2025. https://www.bernama.com/en/news.php/?id=2504974

[19] Selangor Journal. (2025, June 5). Kita Selangor Rail final piece of Klang Valley transport puzzle, says MB. https://selangorjournal.my/2025/06/kita-selangor-rail-final-piece-of-klang-valley-transport-puzzle-says-mb/

[20] Selangor Journal. (2025, July 10). Kita Selangor Rail feasibility study underway, state assembly hears. https://selangorjournal.my/2025/07/kita-selangor-rail-feasibility-study-underway-state-assembly-hears/

[21] The Edge Malaysia. (2025, August 14). Trans-Borneo Railway feasibility study to conclude by 3Q2026 — Loke. https://theedgemalaysia.com/node/766494

[22] The Star. (2026, January 6). Transport Ministry committed to strengthening sustainable mobility, service quality by 2026. https://www.thestar.com.my/news/nation/2026/01/06/transport-ministry-committed-to-strengthening-sustainable-mobility-service-quality-by-2026

[23] Government Technology. (2021, May 4). Arlington, Texas, Expands On-Demand Micro-Transit Citywide. https://www.govtech.com/fs/arlington-texas-expands-on-demand-micro-transit-citywide.html

[24] Municipal World. (2018, April 23). Innisfil, Ontario earns international recognition for its transit initiative, powered by Uber. https://www.municipalworld.com/feature-story/innisfil-ontario-earns-international-recognition-transit-initiative-powered-uber/

The post Shaping the Future of Malaysia’s Mobility appeared first on PEMANDU Associates.

Only 27 percent of surveyed public servants in Bosnia and Herzegovina, 29 percent in Kosovo, and 43 percent in Ethiopia reported receiving government-funded training during the preceding 12 months.

The problem is not only that too few public servants are being trained. Even when training happens, it is frequently disconnected from what institutions and officials actually need. These findings come from the World Bank’s 2026 Public Workforce Performance and Prosperity report. Its evidence base includes 67 million observations across 151 countries and surveys of more than 200,000 public-sector employees in 30 countries. The report concludes that government training is often not anchored in organisational needs or connected to the competencies required for different jobs.

That is a serious problem when the world depends on approximately 400 million public-sector workers to administer public resources, regulate markets, deliver essential services and implement government priorities. Training public servants is therefore not a peripheral human-resources activity. It is part of the operating infrastructure of the state.

Yet much of what is called capacity building still measures attendance, hours completed and participant satisfaction. Those measures tell us whether a programme took place. They do not tell us whether government became more capable of delivering.

The data shows an access problem and a relevance problem

The World Bank’s public-workforce surveys reveal significant differences in access to training.

Source: World Bank, Public Workforce Performance and Prosperity, 2026. Bureaucracy Lab survey periods vary between 2016 and 2025.

These figures should not be interpreted as a league table. The surveys cover different parts of government and were conducted at different times. However, they expose a common structural weakness: many public servants receive little formal development, while others receive training that may not address the problems they face at work.

The World Bank also found that civil servants often need training on specific technical subjects and digital technologies but instead receive training concentrated on laws, regulations and administrative processes.

This is not an argument against understanding government procedures. Those procedures matter. The concern is that administrative knowledge alone does not prepare a public servant to coordinate several ministries, resolve an implementation bottleneck, challenge weak data or turn a political commitment into a funded programme.

Knowledge is not the same as delivery capability

Across government transformation work in Malaysia, the Middle East and Africa, I have seen the same pattern in different forms. A policy can be technically sound but institutionally unowned. A minister may announce a target before the baseline has been agreed. Several agencies may be working on the same issue without sharing one implementation plan. A dashboard may display dozens of indicators but still fail to trigger a decision. These are not problems that can be solved by providing another presentation.

Delivery capability is the ability to operate when the answer is incomplete, authority is dispersed and progress depends on several institutions moving together.

• translate a political or strategic priority into measurable outcomes;
• separate symptoms from the underlying delivery problem;
• establish accountable ownership across institutional boundaries;
• connect initiatives to budgets and other required resources;
• determine which data can be trusted;
• identify dependencies before they become delays;
• run a performance discussion that produces decisions;
• resolve problems at the lowest practical level; and
• escalate only when an issue genuinely requires higher authority.

A participant may understand all these concepts in theory and still be unable to apply them under pressure. This is why public-sector delivery training must be designed as professional practice, not simply knowledge transfer.

What the original PEMANDU experience teaches us

Malaysia’s Performance Management and Delivery Unit, PEMANDU, was established in 2009 to drive implementation of the National Transformation Programme. The operating model concentrated attention on a limited number of national priorities. Those priorities were translated into granular projects with responsible ministries, timelines and key performance indicators.

The World Bank describes PEMANDU’s signature transformation Labs as six-to-nine-week stakeholder workshops that broke each priority into concrete projects. Once implementation began, progress was monitored regularly. Where indicators slipped, implementing agencies were expected to identify the reason, agree corrective action and escalate unresolved problems through the leadership chain.

The World Bank’s independent review found that this combination of prioritisation, granular planning, coordination, monitoring and escalation contributed to PEMANDU’s effectiveness. It also identified important limitations, including data quality, the risk of hitting a target while missing the underlying purpose, and the need for stronger impact evaluation. Read the World Bank assessment of Malaysia’s PEMANDU experience.

Those qualifications are important. A mature PEMANDU training programme teaches the limitations of the model alongside its strengths. Participants need to understand why a methodology worked under particular political, institutional and economic conditions. They also need to recognise when a tool should be adapted, strengthened or abandoned.

The objective is not to produce people who can recite the 8-Step Big Fast Results methodology. It is to develop people who can exercise delivery judgement.

The strongest evidence supports learning through practice

The World Bank’s 2026 report recommends that public-sector training combine classroom and on-the-job learning. It cites rigorous evaluations showing that hybrid programmes using reflective learning-by-doing and team-based learning are more effective than classroom instruction alone.

This aligns with the OECD’s finding that learning and development is a core part of public-sector capability, not merely a product supplied by human-resource departments. Its review also explains how transversal career structures can widen learning opportunities, break institutional silos and create networks that support cross-organisational projects. Read the OECD public-service capability review.

The measurement problem is equally significant.

In February 2026, the Governance Innovation Unit of Bangladesh’s Chief Adviser’s Office published, with technical assistance from UNDP and the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation, an evaluation framework for government training institutions. Piloted across five apex institutions, it found comparatively strong infrastructure and training delivery but persistent gaps in outcome measurement, research and evidence of learning impact. It recommended competency-based training, stronger monitoring and evaluation, faculty development and phased institutional reform. Read the government training-institution evaluation framework hosted by UNDP. These findings point in one direction: government training must be designed around work, assessed through application and connected to institutional outcomes.

What PEMANDU-style delivery training looks like

A PEMANDU delivery programme begins with a real implementation problem. Participants arrive with a priority from their own institution: youth employment, investment conversion, hospital waiting times, agricultural productivity, project delays, digital-service adoption or another issue that has resisted ordinary administrative action.

The programme forces that problem through the realities of delivery:

• What is the measurable True North?
• What is the baseline, target and date?
• Which part of the problem can government genuinely influence?
• Who owns each intervention?
• What must be funded?
• Which institution controls the critical decision?
• What data can be trusted?
• Which dependencies could stop implementation?
• What can be resolved operationally?
• What genuinely requires political or executive escalation?

Participants leave with a working delivery product, not only course notes. That product contains an implementation plan, named owners, measurable milestones, funding requirements, dependencies, decision rights, performance measures, reporting cadence and escalation pathway.

Simulation is part of the experience. Participants are placed in realistic situations involving incomplete data, institutional resistance, funding constraints, changing instructions and pressure from senior leadership.

This is where trainers must be distinguished from speakers. A strong speaker can explain a transformation story. A competent trainer must be able to diagnose a participant’s problem, challenge the logic, expose missing assumptions and guide the participant towards a usable solution. A delivery coach then supports application after the classroom. An assessor judges whether the person can perform the work independently. These are different professional roles. Treating them as interchangeable weakens training quality.

The PEMANDU Global Delivery Network connects training to professional practice

PEMANDU brings these elements together through the Global Delivery Network. It is not an alumni group, a list of trainers or a catalogue of courses. It is a structured professional pathway that develops government delivery capability from civil-service induction through advanced practice, while connecting practitioners across countries.

The Network operates at three connected levels.

1. Civil Service Induction

The first level introduces new public servants to how government priorities move through Cabinet, ministries, agencies, budgets and frontline institutions. The programme establishes a common language of outcomes, evidence, accountability and implementation. It is adapted to the laws, administrative culture and institutional structure of each country.

A generic international curriculum cannot adequately address local decision rights, political incentives, trust, culture or the relationship between national and subnational government.

2. Delivery Masterclass

The second level is an intensive five-day Delivery Masterclass for delivery-unit personnel, programme managers, senior civil servants and officials responsible for priority initiatives. It is the practical entry point into the Global Delivery Network.

Participants work on live government problems through delivery clinics, simulations, peer challenge and facilitated decision sessions. Their output is assessed against professional standards.

By the end of the programme, our participants have been able to translate a priority into a three-foot implementation plan, construct meaningful KPIs, establish an operating cadence, identify funding and dependencies, and defend the plan under scrutiny.

3. Global Delivery Fellowship

The third level is PEMANDU’s Global Delivery Fellowship for senior practitioners and future government delivery leaders. The fellowship combines taught modules, professional coaching, cross-country peer review and deployment in live delivery environments. Qualification requires evidence of application, not merely the completion of an examination.

A fellow qualifies by demonstrating how they influenced a decision, improved an implementation system, resolved a bottleneck, strengthened institutional ownership or transferred capability to other officials. This creates a pathway from exposure, to application, to professional practice.

The network itself becomes part of the capability

The most useful knowledge in transformation work rarely appears in the final presentation. It sits in the decisions that were made under pressure. It includes rejected options, disputed assumptions, stakeholder resistance, failed interventions and adaptations made when a sound plan encountered political or institutional reality. Most organisations preserve the final report and lose the reasoning behind it.

The PEMANDU Global Delivery Network captures this knowledge while delivery work is happening. Practitioners record:

• the original problem and baseline;
• the assumptions used;
• the options considered and rejected;
• the stakeholders and decision rights involved;
• the evidence supporting the chosen approach;
• the implementation results;
• what failed or changed; and
• the conditions under which the lesson could be transferred elsewhere.

This creates institutional memory without turning the past into doctrine. A lesson from Malaysia, Rwanda, Oman or Russia is not copied mechanically into another country. It is examined for the political authority, institutional capability, financing, incentives and timing that made it work.

A 2024 World Bank practice note, drawing on a convening of representatives from 15 African delivery units, reaches a similar conclusion. Delivery units can create pockets of effectiveness, improve monitoring and strengthen cross-government coordination, but their institutional form must be adapted to local conditions. Political backing, leadership routines, credible data and ownership by ministries remain essential. Read the World Bank note on African delivery units.

The Inter-American Development Bank examined how delivery units were adapted across 14 Latin American and Caribbean governments and whether they contributed to priority goals between 2007 and 2018. Its research reinforces the point that a delivery unit is an institutional innovation whose performance must be assessed, not an imported template that automatically produces results. Read the IDB technical note.

A data-driven training model measures application

Attendance, completion and participant satisfaction are recorded. They are useful operating measures. They are not sufficient evidence of impact. The Network’s evaluation model covers four levels.

Each participant begins with a documented baseline. The programme then conducts 30-day, 90-day and 180-day follow-ups. Not every national outcome can be attributed to training. Economic conditions, political decisions, institutional changes and external events also affect performance. The evaluation therefore distinguishes between direct outputs, plausible contributions and outcomes that cannot be confidently attributed. Credibility depends on that honesty.

AI strengthens evidence, not manufactured confidence

Within the Global Delivery Network, governed AI helps practitioners retrieve comparable cases, identify inconsistencies in implementation plans, generate realistic simulations and compare a participant’s proposed delivery structure against professional standards.

The governed AI layer connects:

• programme documents;
• decision logs;
• delivery dashboards;
• approved case studies;
• participant assessments;
• trainer feedback; and
• post-training implementation evidence.

It retrieves relevant lessons with source citations, flags missing ownership or funding, stress-tests assumptions and suggests questions for the practitioner to investigate. It is not allowed to invent evidence, conceal weak data or make unreviewed policy decisions. Human practitioners remain accountable for judgement, political interpretation and final recommendations. The purpose of AI is to help a delivery professional see more, test faster and remember better. 

It does not remove professional responsibility.

The real test begins on Monday morning

The purpose of public-sector delivery training is not to make officials sound more sophisticated. It is to make them more capable when implementation becomes difficult.

Can the participant turn an ambiguous priority into measurable outcomes? Can they establish ownership without creating another committee? Can they identify weak data? Can they connect an initiative to funding? Can they run a performance conversation that produces a decision? Can they escalate an issue without surrendering responsibility? Can they adapt a global lesson to local political and institutional reality?

That is the test.

The PEMANDU Global Delivery Network is not built to sell more training days. It develops a recognised profession of government delivery, connects capable practitioners across countries and reduces the long-term dependence of institutions on outside consultants.

Training creates exposure. Practice develops judgement. Professional standards create trust. The network keeps the capability alive.

Author:

Sean Ong

Executive Vice President

——-

Let’s transform together. Contact us at: https://pemandu.org/contact-us/ 

References:

1. World Bank, Public Workforce Performance and Prosperity, 2026

2. World Bank, Driving Performance from the Center: Malaysia’s Experience with PEMANDU

3. World Bank, Four Ways Delivery Units in Africa Can Drive Change, 2024

4. OECD, Public Employment and Management 2023

5. Government of Bangladesh, Governance Innovation Unit, Evaluation Framework of Government Training Institutes, with technical assistance from UNDP and SDC, 2026

6. Inter-American Development Bank, Do Delivery Units Deliver?, 2018

7. PEMANDU Associates, Leadership and Management Training

The post Public-Sector Delivery Training Must Move Beyond the Classroom appeared first on PEMANDU Associates.

Every mineral economy carries two stories. One is the story written underground, in seams, grades, reserves and assays. The other is written above ground, in towns, power lines, workshops, invoices, classrooms, rivers and families. For too long, African countries have been asked to celebrate the first story while losing the second. The ore leaves. The numbers appear in export data. The mine creates a few jobs, a road to the pit, and a fiscal argument in the national budget. But the deeper question remains unanswered: what did the country actually build because the mineral was there?

This is the real processing gap. It is not only the difference between raw ore and refined metal. It is the difference between owning a resource and converting that resource into national capability. A country can own the ground and still import the machinery. It can renegotiate the royalty and still export the concentrate. It can nationalise the licence and still depend on foreign refineries, foreign offtake, foreign finance and foreign buyers. That is why the next phase of Africa’s mineral strategy should not be reduced to a slogan about ownership. Ownership matters, but ownership alone does not build an industry.

Africa’s position in the global critical mineral economy has long been defined by what lies in the ground rather than by what the continent earns from it. The continent supplies important inputs for the energy transition, including manganese, cobalt, copper, graphite and lithium, yet the larger value often appears after the mineral has been crushed, concentrated, refined, chemically converted or built into components elsewhere. The original draft correctly identifies this gap as the central policy problem facing mineral-rich states across the continent.

[Fig 1: Africa’s Share of Global Reserves vs Share of Global Processing (%) / Sources: USGS (2025); IEA (2024); PACT Africa (2025)]

A changed external environment

What has changed is the external context. Critical minerals now sit at the centre of industrial policy, national security planning and geopolitical competition. The United States Inflation Reduction Act links clean vehicle tax credit rules to critical minerals extracted or processed in the United States or in free trade agreement partner countries or recycled in North America. The European Union Critical Raw Materials Act sets 2030 benchmarks for the EU to reach at least 10 percent of annual consumption from extraction, 40 percent from processing and 25 percent from recycling, while also reducing over-dependence on any single third country. China has used export controls on materials such as gallium, germanium, graphite and rare earth-related products to demonstrate how powerful processing control can be.¹²³

The world is not simply looking for minerals anymore. It is looking for secure supply, trusted jurisdictions, traceable products, resilient logistics and credible environmental standards. That shift creates opportunity for Africa, but it is a conditional opportunity. The premium is no longer attached to geology alone. It is attached to the ability to turn geology into an investable, reliable and responsibly processed product.

The ownership trap

The recent African record shows that governments are trying to correct old imbalances. The instinct is understandable. Many countries have watched minerals leave their soil for decades while the larger value was captured elsewhere. In that context, demands for better royalties, local equity, state participation, contract renegotiation and domestic processing are not irrational. They are a response to a history in which the bargain was often too thin for the country that carried the resource.

But there is a trap. Resource nationalism can change who captures the rent without changing what the economy is capable of producing. A government may seize an asset, renegotiate a licence or increase state equity, but none of those actions automatically builds a refinery, trains metallurgists, lowers power tariffs, secures water, finances tailings management, signs offtake agreements or creates a local supplier base. Political control and industrial capability are related, but they are not the same thing.

That distinction is visible across the continent. In Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger, transitional governments have renegotiated or revoked mining arrangements under nationalist mandates. The grievances behind those actions are often rooted in real public frustration. Yet the instrument is blunt. Forced renegotiation can redistribute extraction rents, but it can also raise investor risk and make it harder to attract the patient capital that processing requires. The difficult truth is that downstream industrialisation needs both sovereignty and credibility. Without sovereignty, the country captures too little. Without credibility, serious capital will not stay long enough to build.

Zimbabwe’s lithium lesson: processing can move, but the value chain may not

Zimbabwe offers one of the clearest current examples of both the promise and the risk of processing mandates. In February 2026, the government suspended exports of raw minerals and lithium concentrates, citing malpractices and leakages. Reuters reported that the ministry later set conditions for the resumption of lithium concentrate exports, including export quotas, a 10 percent export tax until a planned January 2027 concentrate ban, publication of annual financial statements, compliance with labour, safety and environmental standards, and written commitments to establish lithium sulphate plants before January 2027.^{4 5}

The policy has produced a visible result. Huayou Cobalt announced in April 2026 the first export of lithium sulphate from its Zimbabwe operation. The product is not yet a finished battery chemical, but it is an intermediate step beyond raw concentrate. It shows that a processing mandate, when backed by pressure and existing investment, can move some value addition into the country. ⁶

The harder question is who controls the chain after that step. Chinese firms dominate Zimbabwe’s lithium mining sector, and the processed intermediate product still sits within a supply chain that largely points towards Chinese downstream manufacturers. For Zimbabwe, this is better than exporting only concentrate, but it may still fall short of structural transformation if the country remains dependent on foreign technology, foreign capital, foreign offtake and foreign industrial demand. The story is therefore not a simple success or failure. It is a warning that processing can move geographically without value-chain power moving politically or economically.

[Fig 2: the lithium value ladder and where Zimbabwe currently sits / Source: IEA Critical Minerals Market Review]

Botswana’s diamond warning: a better deal is not the same as a new economy

Botswana tells a different and equally important story. It is one of Africa’s strongest examples of mineral governance and long-term state capacity. Diamonds helped finance schools, roads, health services and public administration. That is why the current pressure on the diamond market feels larger than a commodity cycle. It touches the social contract. When a country has used one mineral to build national stability, disruption to that mineral is not only a market issue. It is a national planning issue.

In February 2025, Botswana and De Beers signed a long-delayed agreement that extended Debswana mining licences to 2054 and increased Botswana’s selling rights through the state-owned Okavango Diamond Company. Reuters reported that the agreement was reached after Botswana’s economy had contracted amid a prolonged downturn in the global diamond market. ⁷

This was a real commercial achievement. It improved Botswana’s position in the diamond value chain and gave the state greater access to rough diamond sales. But it did not by itself solve the industrial question. Selling a larger share of rough diamonds is still different from building a diversified manufacturing base. The pressure is sharpened by the rise of lab-grown diamonds. Industry data cited by the World Diamond Council reported that 45.3 percent of engagement rings sold in the United States in 2024 were set with lab-grown diamonds, while Rapaport reported that The Knot’s data showed lab-grown centre stones passed 50 percent in 2024. ^{8 9}

The lesson from Botswana is not that the country failed. It is the opposite. Botswana shows that even good governance and better bargaining power are not enough when the underlying market changes. A better deal can buy time. It cannot replace the need to build new capabilities. For countries dependent on a narrow mineral base, the most important question may not be how to capture a larger share of today’s mineral rent, but how to use that rent before the market moves away.

Guinea’s Simandou programme: vision at scale, delivery still to prove

Guinea presents the most explicit articulation of the processing sovereignty argument currently underway on the continent. President Doumbouya’s stated position that minerals will no longer exit as raw assets but as industrialised national value chains is not merely political rhetoric. It is anchored in the Simandou 2040 Sustainable and Responsible Socio-Economic Development Programme, a fifteen-year framework comprising 122 projects and over $200 billion in planned investment, structured around infrastructure, industrialisation and human capital development. ¹⁰

The programme’s ambition is deliberately integrated. The Simandou corridor, over 650 kilometres of railway and new deep-water port capacity, is designed not only to move iron ore to market, but to anchor the logistics infrastructure on which processing industries depend. A target of approximately 4,000 MW of installed power capacity by 2030, combined with planned special economic zones along the corridor, reflects an understanding that the industrial zone is as important as the mine. Guinea has also established a Delivery Unit at the highest level of the state to coordinate execution, a governance mechanism that distinguishes the Simandou 2040 programme from the announcement-without-implementation cycle that has characterised beneficiation policy elsewhere.

Whether this translates into structural transformation will depend on execution. Guinea’s sovereign rating was upgraded by S&P to B+ with a positive outlook in March 2026, a signal of improved institutional credibility, but also a reminder of how recently that credibility was established. The investment environment remains early-stage, and approximately 40 percent of the programme’s financing is expected from the private sector – capital that will make its own assessment of regulatory stability, contract enforceability and the consistency between policy announcement and implementation. Guinea is, in this sense, the clearest current test of whether the processing sovereignty argument can be converted from political vision into industrial reality.

[Chart X: Simandous promise: scale of transformation vs current baseline / Simandou 2040 Programme (2025); IMF cited in Mongabay (2026); EITI Guinea fiscal modelling study (June 2025); S&P Global (2025). Projections are government targets, not verified forecasts]

What should mineral-rich countries actually sell 

Governments often begin with the mineral, asking how much copper, cobalt, lithium or gold they have. That is necessary but not sufficient. The sharper question is what the country can sell in a way that customers will pay for, financiers will back, communities will accept and the economy can sustain. 

The answer will not be the same for every mineral. Where domestic processing is uneconomic, because of energy, water, logistics or scale, selling ore or concentrate is not failure. It is discipline. Beneficiation becomes dangerous when treated as a blanket instruction rather than a commercial choice. 

Where the economics are viable, countries should aim to sell more than concentrate: intermediate processed products, certified responsible supply, stable offtake platforms and the credibility that comes from transparent contracts. In battery minerals, that may mean moving from ore to lithium sulphate before attempting battery-grade chemicals. In copper and cobalt, it may mean linking extraction to refining through corridor and energy planning. 

Countries should not try to sell the world a political slogan. They should sell an investable value chain, one that answers six questions before a minister signs a mandate or an investor signs a term sheet: Is the resource base sufficient? Is processing viable at local energy, water and logistics costs? Who buys the processed product? Who owns the licence, the plant and the offtake? What environmental obligations are enforceable? What capabilities remain in the country after the first shipment leaves?

A processing-first framework

The choice facing mineral-rich governments is not between resource nationalism and open-door investment. It is between two models of sovereignty: one that controls ownership, and one that builds capability. The first is easier to legislate. The second is the only one that produces structural transformation. 

Processing sovereignty means the state uses licensing, infrastructure, environmental governance and investor conditionality to maximise domestic industrial capability, not ownership for its own sake. It requires one prior commitment: to know the value chain as precisely as the geology. A geological survey tells a country what is in the ground. A value-chain map tells it what is worth doing with it, at which processing stage, under what conditions, for which buyers, and with what capability left behind when the contract expires. 

The framework operates across six dimensions:

The framework does not prescribe universal processing. It prescribes universal rigour. Some minerals will not be worth processing domestically in the near term. Acknowledging that is not a concession, it is the analytical foundation on which viable processing strategy is built.

Conclusion: the mineral is only the beginning

The next mineral race will not be won by the countries with the loudest ownership claims. It will be won by the countries that can turn ownership into capability. That requires a harder kind of politics than nationalisation rhetoric. It requires disciplined choices, patient institution-building, credible contracts, environmental honesty and the humility to process only where processing makes economic sense.

There is a human reason to get this right. Behind every mine is a community that wants more than compensation. Behind every export figure is a worker who wants a skill that still matters after the pit closes. Behind every mineral agreement is a child whose school, road, clinic or future may depend on whether the country negotiated for a shipment or for an industry.

Africa’s endowment is already settled by geology. Its transformation is not. That will be decided in investment codes, mining agreements, power plans, environmental permits, industrial zones, training institutions and the courage to ask a better question. Not simply, “Who owns the mine?” but, “What will this mineral leave behind?”

Authors:

Sean Ong

Executive Vice President

Vyshnav Menon

Senior Associate

——-

Let’s transform together. Contact us at: https://pemandu.org/contact-us/ 

References:

[1] U.S. Department of the Treasury and IRS guidance on clean vehicle credits and critical mineral requirements under the Inflation Reduction Act, including rules relating to extraction or processing in the United States or free trade agreement partners, recycling in North America, and foreign entity of concern restrictions.

[2] European Commission, European Critical Raw Materials Act, including 2030 benchmarks for extraction, processing, recycling and reduced single-country dependency.

[3] Reuters reporting on China export controls on gallium, germanium, graphite and rare earth-related products between 2023 and 2025.

[4] Reuters, “Zimbabwe bans exports of all raw minerals and lithium concentrates, cites malpractices,” 25 February 2026.

[5] Reuters, “Zimbabwe to introduce lithium export quotas, sets conditions for resumption of shipments,” 8 April 2026.

[6] Reuters, “China’s Huayou reports first lithium salt exports from Zimbabwe,” 28 April 2026.

[7] Reuters, “Botswana, De Beers sign long-delayed diamonds deal,” 25 February 2025.

[8] World Diamond Council, “Nature versus nurture,” citing industry data on lab-grown diamonds in U.S. engagement rings in 2024.

[9] Rapaport, “Lab-Grown Taking Over Engagement-Ring Spending,” 19 February 2026, citing The Knot data that lab-grown centre stones passed 50 percent in 2024.

[10] Simandou 2040 Sustainable and Responsible Socio-Economic Development Programme (2025). Investment Brochure. Republic of Guinea: Simandou Strategic Committee. The programme targets GDP growth from approximately $25 billion in 2025 to over $110 billion by 2040, with more than 5 million additional jobs. Note: GDP figure reflects the rebasing exercise completed in October 2025

The post The Processing Gap appeared first on PEMANDU Associates.

Artificial intelligence is no longer confined to labs, strategy papers, or technology discussions. It is becoming part of everyday life; in meeting rooms, educational institutions, cafes and households. What started out as a tool to help with discovery, analysis, and decision-making is now becoming something that can work on its own, talk to other software, organise tasks, and act as an intelligent assistant. This development is commonly referred to as agentic AI. 

This evolution is beginning to take shape in Malaysia’s own digital and financial ecosystem. In March 2026, Mastercard’s pilot with CIMB and RHB demonstrated that AI agents can already initiate and complete authenticated transactions within Malaysia’s financial ecosystem. The pilot involved an AI agent arranging a ride from Kuala Lumpur International Airport to KL Sentral. The transaction was facilitated through CardInfoLink’s AI agent platform using Mastercard Agent Pay, with tokenised credentials authenticated via Mastercard Payment Passkeys to ensure security, transparency, strong customer verification, and consumer control. While the pilot was conducted in a controlled environment, with commercial rollout to follow in phases, and the use case may appear simple on the surface, it signals a much larger shift where autonomous systems are capable of executing real transactions within existing digital and financial ecosystems.

The new phase of digital commerce is called agentic commerce. These systems can autonomously research, compare, find the best price, and complete purchases.! Unlike traditional e-commerce, these systems operate across multiple platforms, executing transactions without direct human intervention and fundamentally streamlining the buying journey.

This phase is not taking place in isolation. Instead, it is unfolding within a digital ecosystem that is already operating at scale. Approximately 74% of the world’s population is connected to the internet, forming the foundation of today’s digital commerce ecosystem. At the same time, the global e-commerce market is valued at more than USD6 trillion, reflecting the extent to which digital transactions have become embedded in daily life.

This trend is just as strong in Malaysia. The Department of Statistics Malaysia (DOSM) reported that e-commerce revenue reached RM937.5 billion in the first nine months of 2025, up 1.9% year-on-year. ICT and e-commerce together contributed 23.4% (RM451.3 billion) of the economy in 2024.

It means agentic commerce is not being introduced into a small or controlled environment. It is emerging within systems that are already operating at very high volumes.

When Transactions Are No Longer Initiated by Users

In a conventional digital journey, users search, compare, decide, and transact. Now, we see these activities are being delegated to autonomous agents that can act on behalf of users.

On the surface, the experience feels seamless. At scale, this improves efficiency, reduces friction, and optimises decision-making across sectors. But it also changes something more fundamental. The decision is no longer made at the point of action. It is made earlier and executed later.

Suppose you have a smart refrigerator that automatically tracks your consumption and replenishes essential items on a weekly basis. It is connected to your digital calendar, and it shows an upcoming “open house” for 50 people this Saturday. 

You have been watching Khairul Aming’s YouTube videos and going through recipes for rendang, nasi minyak, kuah kurma, acar, and sirap bandung, indicating that a larger-than-usual meal is being planned. 

It is Tuesday, your usual replenishment day. Based on these inputs, your smart refrigerator picks up on the need for additional ingredients and proceeds to place an order in advance. 

However, the event has since been cancelled, and you did not remove it from your calendar.

The transaction proceeds. No more confirmation is needed.

The event is no longer happening, but the order shows up as expected.

The decision has been correctly executed from a system perspective based on the information available.

In a practical sense, the outcome does not reflect the intended situation.

This is not a tech failure, but it is context mismatch.

This is where the gap becomes more apparent.

The issue is no longer how the system works, but how the surrounding structures can manage how decisions are made, executed and corrected, when systems operate based on prior inputs without real time validation.

The Shift from Capability to Control

The key challenge is no longer whether agentic systems can function. It is whether policy, security, and governance frameworks are evolving fast enough to manage how these systems make decisions, execute actions, and are held accountable.

Most existing digital systems were designed around a simple assumption that users remain present throughout the transaction process to initiate, review, and approve actions. Agentic commerce operates differently. Decisions may increasingly be initiated, evaluated, and executed with limited direct human visibility.

As a result, the focus of security can no longer rely solely on authenticating users through passwords, one-time codes, or biometric verification. It must evolve towards understanding and monitoring system behaviour, decision logic, and transaction accountability.

In many ways, this also reflects a broader evolution in digital trust models. For decades, financial systems focused heavily on “Know Your Customer” (KYC) frameworks designed to verify human identity and legitimacy. As autonomous systems act on behalf of users, institutions also need to develop stronger capabilities to understand, monitor, and govern the behaviour, authority, and decision boundaries of the agents operating within digital ecosystems. In time, this may gradually introduce the need for a “Know Your Agent” mindset alongside existing customer verification approaches.

This shift is important in Malaysia’s context. According to the Royal Malaysia Police (PDRM), cybercrime and online financial scam cases continue to rise annually, involving billions of ringgits in losses. At the same time, global organisations such as the World Economic Forum and IBM have highlighted growing concerns around AI governance, transparency, explainability, and liability.

Ultimately, the defining issue is no longer technology capability alone, but control and trust within an ecosystem where systems are increasingly able to act on behalf of users.

What This Means for Government, Financial Institutions, Businesses and Users

Malaysia is not starting from zero. Current initiatives and regulatory frameworks such as Bank Negara Malaysia’s Risk Management in Technology (RMiT), the Cyber Security Act 2024, AI governance initiatives, and broader digital trust efforts have already enhanced governance, cybersecurity, operational resilience, and technology risk management across the digital and financial ecosystem.

Agentic commerce, however, adds a different level of complexity. As autonomous systems become more common across platforms to make decisions and conduct transactions on behalf of users, the focus will shift from traditional transaction oversight and technology risk management towards broader issues of system behaviour, delegated decision making, accountability, interoperability, and consumer trust across interconnected digital ecosystems.

Against this backdrop, several strategic implications are beginning to emerge for governments, financial institutions, businesses and users. The rapid pace of development in agentic AI also highlights that governance frameworks can no longer remain static documents. In January 2026, Singapore introduced the world’s first Model AI Governance Framework for Agentic AI and described it as a “living document” that will continue to evolve alongside emerging technologies. This reflects a growing recognition that governance approaches for autonomous systems need to evolve continuously alongside the technology itself.

As autonomous systems become more embedded into everyday transactions and decision-making processes, different stakeholders will face various challenges that would require closer attention. 

Government

Financial Institutions

Businesses

Users

Translating Readiness into Implementation

Recognising the shift towards agentic commerce is only one part of the challenge. The greater challenge lies in translating readiness into coordinated implementation across policies, systems, institutions, and users.

For governments, this means ensuring that governance frameworks, regulatory positions, and oversight mechanisms are consistently operationalised across agencies and sectors.

For financial institutions, it requires aligning systems, processes, risk management, and operational capabilities to support autonomous and high-frequency decision-making environments.

For businesses, readiness will depend on how quickly they can adapt their digital capabilities, operational processes, and customer engagement models to AI-driven commerce ecosystems.

For users, trust will depend not only on system capability, but also on how clearly decisions can be understood, monitored, and corrected when necessary.

In this context, implementation capability becomes important. Successfully operationalising agentic commerce will require strong coordination across stakeholders, clear accountability, measurable outcomes, and continuous monitoring as the ecosystem evolves.

This is precisely where delivery discipline becomes the deciding factor. PEMANDU Associates has spent over a decade operationalising exactly this kind of complex, cross-agency transformation, turning ambition into measurable outcomes through clear accountability, rigorous monitoring, and the coordination structures that hold implementation together. As agentic commerce moves from capability to control, that same execution discipline, the ability to align government, institutions, businesses, and users around a common delivery roadmap, will determine whether Malaysia leads this shift or merely absorbs it.

The Next Phase of the Conversation

The foundations for agentic commerce are already in place. Connectivity, digital payment infrastructure, AI capabilities, and interconnected ecosystems are no longer operating at experimental scale but have already become embedded into everyday life and digital transactions.

As such, the question is no longer whether this shift towards more autonomous commerce will happen. The more important question is whether governance, policy, security, and oversight mechanisms are evolving fast enough to support it in a controlled and trusted manner.

This becomes important because as systems begin acting on behalf of users, the issue is no longer only about technological capability. It is also about accountability, visibility, and ultimately, control.

At a policy or system level, these discussions may still appear conceptual. However, their implications are often most visible through everyday situations and consumer behaviour.

Remember the groceries that your refrigerator ordered?

Your groceries arrive before you even realise the order has been executed. Your kitchen is now stocked with ingredients for rendang, nasi minyak, kuah kurma, acar and sirap bandung, enough to feed 50 people who are no longer coming because the event was cancelled earlier in the day.

Perhaps the next evolution is a robotic assistant capable of preparing the meals using what has already been purchased. With advances in robotics becoming accessible, what once felt futuristic no longer seems entirely impossible.

However, this introduces a different set of questions. If systems can decide what to buy, and how to act on those decisions, where does oversight sit as decisions begin compounding across interconnected systems? At what point does convenience begin moving faster than the ability to monitor, intervene, or maintain meaningful human control?

These may be questions for the next phase of the conversation, perhaps over coffee before the systems order it for us. 

Several perspectives within this article were informed through engagements with industry practitioners and technology experts.

Author:

Jezamin Razak

Associate Vice President

——-

Let’s transform together. Contact us at: https://pemandu.org/contact-us/ 

References

1. Mastercard conducts first live agentic transaction in Malaysia with CIMB and RHB Pilot, Mastercard, 4 March 2026
2. Global number of Internet users increases, but disparities deepen key digital divides, ITU, 17 November 2025
3. Malaysia Digital Economy 2025 (e-commerce revenue RM937.5 billion, 9M2025), Department of Statistics Malaysia (DOSM), 26 November 2025
4. AI Governance Alliance Briefing Paper, World Economic Forum, 2025
5. Research reveals 9 essential plays to govern AI responsibly in a multipolar world, WEF, 23 September 2025
6. Cost of a Data Breach Report 2025, IBM Security
7. Commercial Crime Investigation Department Annual Statistics, Royal Malaysia Police (PDRM), BERNAMA 2025
8. Singapore Launches New Model AI Governance Framework for Agentic AI, 22 January 2026
9. Model AI Framework for Agentic AI, INFOCOMM Media Development Authority
10. Mastercard Sees Data Moving Payments from KYC to KYA

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In one year, Malaysia’s EV market doubled. According to the Department of Statistics Malaysia, EV registrations rose from 21,789 units in 2024 to 44,813 in 2025, as cheaper imported models finally made EVs affordable for middle-income Malaysians. 

Then, in five months, the policy landscape shifted. 

The new rule now requires any fully imported EV (Completely Built Up – CBU) must carry a minimum declared cost of RM200,000 and produce at least 180kW of power. In practical terms, this pushes the minimum retail price to at least RM300,000 after duties, taxes, and margins. 

Separately, new conditions on locally assembled EVs (Completely Knocked Down – CKD) introduced an 80 percent export requirement, a mandatory paint shop, and a cap on domestic sales volume for any manufacturer setting up a new plant after September 2025, unless they choose to assemble through existing facilities via local partners.

Malaysia’s Ministry of Investment, Trade and Industry (MITI) frames this as developmental rather than protectionist, intended to move Malaysia up the EV automotive value chain. The question is whether this is an industrial strategy disguised as protection.

A policy at war with Malaysia’s own net-zero roadmap

Malaysia’s premise is reasonable: a country serious about building an automotive industry cannot simply remain a destination for other people’s exports indefinitely. 

What it does not fully account for is who bears the cost of the transition, especially for the B40 and M40 households.

Malaysia’s National Energy Transition Roadmap (NETR) sets a target of 20 percent EV share of total industry volume by 2030, rising to 80 percent by 2050. 

In 2025, EV penetration sat at roughly 5.5 percent. Reaching 20 percent in five years requires roughly quadrupling the current rate of adoption. This, however, is a steep ask given that the affordable import segment that drove the recent growth has now largely been removed, and where the CKD supply chain needed to replace it will take years to reach comparable scale and price.

The NETR target and the import policy were produced by overlapping agencies, and they are now pulling in opposite directions. A transformation effort cannot succeed when its policies are misaligned with its True North. If Malaysia’s True North is simultaneously to build a globally competitive EV industry and accelerate transport decarbonisation, then the current policy architecture appears to be optimising for one objective while slowing progress on the other. 

For comparison, Vietnam tripled its EV market share to 28 percent within four years by keeping affordable options in the market while simultaneously building a domestic champion, which is proof that industrial ambition and climate trajectory do not have to be traded against each other.

The cars most Malaysians can afford just disappeared from the market.

Malaysia’s median household income is RM7,017 per month. Using the common rule that a car should cost no more than one year of household income, the “comfortable” price range for most Malaysians is around RM84,000. 

The minimum price at which any foreign brand may sell a locally assembled EV is RM100,000. Proton and Perodua have never been subjected to that floor, which means the only players permitted to compete in the segment that most Malaysian households can actually afford are the two national car makers. 

With limited competition, this market structure is unlikely to produce competitive pricing or rapid product development. This is especially concerning at a time when households are adapting to rising costs as the result of fuel subsidy rationalisation. 

The households most exposed are the bottom 40 percent by income (B40) and lower half of the middle 40 percent (M40); groups for whom housing, utilities, food, and transport already account for more than two-thirds of monthly expenditure, according to DOSM’s Household Expenditure Survey 2024, leaving limited room to absorb any further cost pressures. For many of them, an affordable EV would have provided meaningful long-term savings.

Elsewhere, the contrast is stark. In Thailand in 2024, the average price of a Chinese EV fell below the average price of a conventional petrol car, with entry models starting at approximately USD 12,500 (~ MYR 50,000), against RM100,000 floor in Malaysia.  

This does not serve the nation, especially when Malaysia’s urban development model was built around cars. Shah Alam, Putrajaya, and Cyberjaya are some examples where private vehicle use is a structural necessity, and most commuter corridors where Malaysian households live and work remain beyond the reach of the light rail transit (LRT) network. 

The practical consequence is that reducing EV affordability does not shift people onto trains. It simply prolongs petrol vehicle dependency at a time when maintaining fuel subsidies is becoming increasingly challenging.

For investors, this reinforces the importance of stable and predictable policy environments. Factory commitments, component localisation, and workforce development take years, not months. As a result, manufacturers choose investment locations based not only on current policies, but on whether those policies are likely to remain stable. 

Malaysia’s incentive framework for EVs has moved in either short cycles, renewed late, or with conditions shifting between announcement and implementation. The CBU duty exemption alone was extended twice before lapsing without a replacement framework in place, leaving distributors and consumers to plan around a deadline that had moved before finally holding. But the kind of transformation Malaysia claims to be pursuing, such as moving up the value chain and building sovereign industrial capability, requires a policy environment that does not surprise its intended beneficiaries.

Protectionism as a tool, not a verdict

These costs do not, by themselves, settle the argument. Protectionism is undoubtedly a legitimate tool, but what matters more is its design, and whether Malaysia’s design matches the transformation ambition it claims.

South Korea built its automotive industry behind protective walls in the 1970s and 1980s, but the protection was structured around a specific condition: that the beneficiaries would eventually have to compete without it. 

Hyundai was not simply shielded from foreign competition. It was also pushed, through deliberate policy pressure, to invest in engineering capability, to develop its own platforms, and to prove itself in export markets where no protection applied. 

The domestic market was the training ground, not the destination. Today, Hyundai-Kia is the world’s third largest automaker by sales, and South Korea is sufficiently confident in the competitiveness of its domestic industry that it has allowed Chinese EVs to enter as standard imports, with no special conditions and no price floors. BYD entered the Korean market in 2025 and has been gaining share, and yet, Hyundai has not collapsed.

Malaysia’s experience with the same protectionist tool produced a different outcome. Proton, through import duties and approved permit restrictions imposed upon foreign car brands for decades, was insulated from the competitive pressure that the South Korean policy had deliberately applied to its own champions. The protection then worked in the narrow sense that Proton survived. The current policy is closer in character to that experience than to South Korea’s. The CBU floor and the greenfield CKD conditions preserve the domestic market for national brands but contain no visible mechanism requiring Proton and Perodua to become competitive enough to not need that preservation.

The conditions that make protection work

The argument here is not that Malaysia should have simply opened its market and absorbed whatever followed. Thailand and Indonesia arrived at broadly similar industrial objectives through mechanisms that kept consumer access intact while still compelling manufacturers to invest locally.

Thailand, which has no domestic brand to protect, introduced a production ratio requirement: manufacturers wishing to sell competitively priced imports were required to produce locally at two units assembled for every one imported, rising to three to one by 2027. BYD responded by building a 150,000-unit factory in Rayong, employing over 6,000 people and exporting across ASEAN and beyond. 

Indonesia on the other hand, required manufacturers to post a bank guarantee equivalent to the duties they would have owed, redeemable only upon meeting production commitments. Nine global brands committed, approximately USD 950 million was pledged, and 281,000 units of annual capacity are coming online. 

In both cases, the industrial outcome was achieved without a price floor and without conditions that varied depending on when an agreement was signed.

A commitment-based structure, whether through production ratios or financial guarantees, creates the same investment incentive as a market restriction, while leaving the price environment intact for buyers. 

If Malaysia is serious about a genuine industrial transition, alternative pathways do exist. A foreign brand opting for contract assembly instead of building its own plant does not produce local long-term talent capability and technology knowledge transfer. While Malaysian content does sit at around 76 percent, that figure refers mostly to body panels, seats, wiring and final assembly, not to the parts that define the car as an EV — the software stack, the battery management system, as well as its platform architecture, all of which remain the IP of the original manufacturer. 

The result? Malaysia’s role in the value chain remains what it was before: screwdriver integration at the end of someone else’s supply chain.

The cost that does not show up as failure

Protectionism is not, in itself, the problem. Every country in this comparison protects its automotive interests in some form. In fact, the United States has effectively closed its market to Chinese manufacturers entirely. The European Union applies tiered tariffs calibrated by manufacturer. The tool is not the issue.

What distinguishes successful protectionism from unsuccessful protectionism is whether it was designed with an exit condition, a point at which firms are eventually expected to compete on their own after developing the capabilities the protection was meant to build.

The CBU price floor and the CKD own-plant conditions preserve market space for national champions but contain no mechanism that requires those champions to earn it. While the intention may be genuine, the cost is larger than it appears — one that a transformational industrial policy cannot afford, because the deep capability transfer Malaysia is pursuing is unlikely to materialise any time soon.

Nevertheless, foreign car makers will continue to adapt, and Malaysia will likely progress, albeit it being business as usual, much as it has before. 

The industry will survive, and the market will grow, slowly. Slowly is the operative word. Against peers who have moved faster. The true cost is not failure, but the non-arrival of the industrial objectives. The ambition is transformation. The current policy, however, still looks more like preservation.

Author:

Nazirul Ibrahim

Senior Manager

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Let’s transform together. Contact us at: https://pemandu.org/contact-us/

The post Designed to Protect, Not to Transform: What Malaysia’s New EV Rules Reveal About Industrial Policy appeared first on PEMANDU Associates.