If I were to speak about Sabah’s rubbish crisis

LAST week, an invitation arrived quietly. Not to a dinner. Not to a launch. Not to a ceremony with ribbons and speeches. But to a talk.

“The Rubbish Crisis in Sabah.” A presentation by Datuk Dr. Chua Kim Hing, former Director-General of DBKK, hosted by SABAR at KK Wetlands. The venue itself said enough. Wetlands – where rivers meet sea, and where rubbish often arrives before wisdom.

At this stage of life, I listen more carefully to invitations. Not every talk deserves presence. Not every seminar deserves time. But some topics… choose you. Rubbish, strangely, is one of them. I paused. This invitation was not merely about attendance. It is about discernment.

Because in the end, it is never really about waste. It is about behaviour. About mindset. About governance. About culture. About what we choose to respect – and what we casually discard. About how a beautiful land, slowly and unfortunately, learns to tolerate ugliness.

I knew this would not be a lecture on bins and landfills. It would be a mirror. Held gently to Sabah. To councils. To leaders. To tourists. And most uncomfortably – to ourselves. Because every rubbish crisis is never only a systems failure. It is a human one, repeated daily.

So I went. Not as an expert. Not as a critic. But as a listener. As someone who loves this state deeply. As someone who believes small habits shape big destinies.

And somewhere between wetlands and waterways, between sunset and styrofoam, one truth returned to me: Most crises are not born of ignorance. They are born of tolerance. Tolerance of bad habits. Weak enforcement and “Never mind-lah.” attitude.

And so a simple question lingered: If Sabah can protect forests, reefs and mountains… why are we still losing the battle with rubbish? That, perhaps, is how this reflection began.

A Habit from the Field

In my own long work journey, I learnt one quiet habit that never failed me. Whenever I visited a plantation operation – before yields, before reports, before meetings – I would always inspect the toilets. Not the office. Not the boardroom. The toilets. Because long before KPIs reveal performance, toilets reveal mindset.

A clean toilet speaks of discipline, pride and respect. A neglected one speaks of tolerance, excuses and quiet decay. Cleanliness, I learnt early, is never about hygiene alone. It is about culture. How people treat shared spaces is how they treat shared responsibilities. And how they treat rubbish… is often how they treat the future.

When Paradise Meets Rubbish

Sabah is blessed outrageously. Mount Kinabalu guards our skyline. Coral reefs glow beneath our waters. Sunsets still stop conversations mid-sentence. And yet, somewhere between beauty and bureaucracy, we have allowed rubbish to quietly colonise paradise.

At beaches, rubbish arrives before sunrise. At drains, it queues politely for the next downpour. At tourist hotspots, it photobombs Instagram memories. Visitors admire sunsets. Rats admire leftovers. Rubbish is not ugly only. It is expensive. It damages tourism. Kills marine life. Spreads disease. Clogs drains. Floods streets. Embarrasses a state built on beauty.

And perhaps worst of all – it teaches children quietly that mess is normal. That plastic belongs to rivers. That beaches are bins. That paradise can be treated casually. That is the real inheritance problem.

When Efficient Is Not Effective and the Gotong-Royong Illusion

In Malaysia, we even have beautiful words for our rubbish problem. Kutu sampah – literally, garbage lice (litter bugs) – for those who litter without malu. Gotong-royong – our noble tradition of cleaning together, smiling, sweating, taking group photos. And sometimes… wayang kulit – activities performed more for show than for solution.

We are very good at organising clean-ups, bah. Very efficient at gathering volunteers, gloves, banners, ministers, MPs, councillors and VIPs. Sometimes with free makan. Free T-shirts. Certificates of participation. Click, click. Picture taken. Headline printed. Instagram and FB posts. Everyone happy.

Do not misunderstand me – these efforts are good. Symbolic matters. Leadership must be visible. But let us be honest. If every month we organise rubbish collection… while everyday many people continue throwing rubbish… then we are not solving a problem. We are rehearsing a vicious cycle.

Collect in the morning. Throw in the afternoon. Smile for cameras on Sunday. Litter again on Monday, bah. The rubbish leaves briefly. The habit stays permanently. Efficiency without effectiveness. Sanitation without transformation.

A campaign that only cleans, but never corrects, is not sustainability. It is sanitation theatre.  Because the real challenge is not who picks up rubbish. It is who stops throwing it. And in that cycle, rubbish loses nothing. But Malaysia…O Sabah… lose slowly.

A Crisis Not Made Overnight But Made Daily

The rubbish crisis is not a one-day problem. It is a thousand-small-habits problem. One plastic bag dropped after supper. One cup thrown beside a drain. One cigarette butt
tossed. One “never mind lah, someone will clean” moment repeated daily – by thousands. And then we wonder why drains choke, mosquitoes celebrate and tourists hesitate.

The press warns of pests and health risks. Another press reports ministers scolding councils.
Reddit hosts confessions from residents who love Sabah… but not its litter. Everyone is unhappy. Everyone is blaming. And rubbish, meanwhile, remains the only party consistently showing up.

In Sabah, rubbish enjoys an unusual privilege: It falls under everyone’s responsibility and nobody’s urgency. MPs say it’s the council’s job. Councils say budgets are tight. Contractors say trucks are old. Citizens say “not my problem”.

When waters went viral with floating waste, ministers scolded, leaders explained, plans were announced. Rubbish listened politely. And returned the next morning. Even elections cannot intimidate garbage.

Let us be fair. Sabah’s geography is challenging. Islands, water villages, scattered settlements. Waste collection is expensive, complex and logistically demanding. Recycling remains limited. Source separation is rare. Permanent landfills arrive later than festive or election promises.

In many towns, rubbish has only two destinies: the roadside or the river. From there, nature kindly delivers it to the sea. Free of charge.

Behaviour: The Quiet Root of the Problem

But if we are honest – painfully honest – the deepest crisis is not infrastructure. It is attitude. We love clean beaches. We dislike carrying rubbish. We criticise dirty towns. But we litter after makan. We complain about councils. But we throw cups from car windows. In Sabah, sometimes rubbish doesn’t come from trucks. It comes from hands.

Until throwing becomes socially embarrassing, until littering becomes culturally unacceptable, until enforcement becomes real and visible… no number of VIP clean-ups will save us from rubbish.

Changing the War Strategy: From Cleaning Rubbish to Stopping Rubbish

Perhaps it is time we radically change strategy. For years, we have targeted rubbish the way we treat a fever – manage the symptoms. We collect it, bag it, transport it, dump it. Efficient, yes.

But the rubbish is not the enemy. The real enemy is the next piece of rubbish – the one not yet thrown, the one still in someone’s hand, the one about to be flicked casually into a drain, a river, a beach. If we truly wish to solve this crisis, we must stop chasing yesterday’s garbage and start protecting tomorrow.

And that means the first battlefield is not the landfill. It is the mind. We must teach early, gently, relentlessly and sustain it. Children must learn that rubbish is not invisible, that plastic lives longer than turtles, and that littering is a choice, not an accident. Our messages must move beyond “Please Keep Clean” to the deeper “why”: why drains flood, why mosquitoes breed, why fish die, why tourists leave quietly.

Most of all, we must restore something old but powerful: malu – the healthy kind. The kind that makes littering socially embarrassing. The kind that empowers friends to tegur friends, neighbours to remind neighbours, parents to scold lovingly, and children to say, “Papa, jangan buang sini bah.” Because culture, in the end, is enforcement without uniforms.

Which brings me to our beloved tradition. For decades, we have practised gotong-royong to collect rubbish – cleaning together, sweating together, smiling together, posing together. Noble. Necessary. Beautiful.

But maybe the next evolution is harder… and braver: Gotong-royong to catch litter bugs. Not literally – no nets, no cages, no village arrests. But socially. Collectively. Courageously. Where silence is no longer polite, and littering attracts stares, not shrugs. Because cleaning together fixes yesterday.

But stopping together… protects tomorrow. And only when we move from collecting rubbish to catch litter bugs will Sabah finally stop cleaning endlessly – and start staying clean naturally.

When Cultures Collide and Rubbish Reveals the Gap

We must also speak gently, but honestly, about a sensitive reality. Sabah today hosts large communities of migrants, many from places where waste systems are weak and civic cleanliness is not yet a shared habit. They arrive with different traditions, different norms and often without our sense of malu.

In dense settlements, water villages and markets, this gap becomes visible – plastic by drains, wrappers by roadsides, bottles by the shore. This is not accusation. It is sociology. When people cross borders, habits travel with them.

How then do we respond? First, with education in languages they understand – simple signs, symbols, briefings, employer responsibility. Second, with rules applied equally – not selectively, not fearfully. Third, with engagement through community leaders, NGOs and site supervisors.

And finally, with consistent enforcement – not to scapegoat migrants, but to protect public spaces as shared heritage. Because cleanliness is not about nationality. It is about discipline.

And one reminder: enforcement must be firm, but just. Heavy fines may discipline the affluent, but crush the poor. Justice is not measured by severity alone, but by fairness. Perhaps first offenders clean instead of pay. Repeat offenders pay instead of argue. Because a clean city built on fear is less noble than one built on conscience. And true civilisation lies not in how harshly we punish – but how wisely we guide.

Education without enforcement is advice. Enforcement without education is oppression. We need both.

When Even the Heroes Disagree

Mindset alone is not enough. People cannot behave well if systems behave badly. We need more bins, placed intelligently. Regular collections, done reliably. Initiate clear separation points for recyclables. Clean public toilets, maintained with pride. We need councils empowered, contractors monitored, data used. Clean cities are not miracles. They are management.

And it is only fair to say this. Even among those who care deeply – even among volunteers, activists, educators, and the concerned citizens – there are differences of opinion.

Some believe education must come first. Some argue enforcement must come early. Some prefer persuasion. Others insist on penalties. Some clean quietly. Others campaign loudly.

And that is not weakness. That is healthy diversity of conscience. Because rubbish is not a simple problem. It sits at the crossroads of culture, behaviour, law, psychology and governance. Different minds will see different pathways. And those differences deserve respect.

What matters most is not that we all agree on the method – but that we all agree on the destination. A Sabah that stays clean. A society that feels malu to litter. A future where Trash Heroes are no longer needed because kutu sampah no longer exist.

Target the Young and Words Matter

Most importantly, we must also aim early. Because the worst kutu sampah of tomorrow…
is the child we fail to teach today.

Adopt-a-beach programmes. School clean-up clubs. Plastic-free canteens. Student ambassadors for cleanliness.  Let children grow up proud of clean rivers, not accustomed to dirty ones. Once habits harden, change becomes expensive. Culture, like cement, sets quietly.

Perhaps we should change the way we speak. Because language shapes behaviour quietly. When we say “single-use plastic”, we already condemn it to a careless destiny. But what if we called it “long-life plastic” – something to respect, use carefully, dispose thoughtfully?

Likewise, “Don’t throw rubbish” scolds. “Keep our city clean” invites. One fights behaviour. The other shapes identity. Perhaps our signs should not shout prohibition… but whisper responsibility.

Not “NO LITTERING”, but “THIS PLACE IS LOVED – PLEASE KEEP IT CLEAN.” Not “STOP POLLUTING”, but “PROTECT OUR RIVERS.” Not “FINE RM500”, but “THANK YOU FOR KEEPING SABAH BEAUTIFUL.”

From commands… to convictions. Because people resist orders, but they protect identities. A “Litter-Free City” sounds like pride. A “Clean Beach” sounds like belonging.

And perhaps one day, when a child reads “Welcome to a Litter-Free Sabah,” he will not ask, “What is litter?” He will simply assume: “We don’t do that here.” And that, quietly, is how culture begins.

Learning From Others Without Fooling Ourselves

And we must be realistic. Sabah cannot become Singapore overnight, built on decades of strict enforcement and discipline. Nor Japan, where cleanliness is taught from childhood and pride in public space runs deep. Even neighbouring Davao’s order grew slowly, through firmness and consistent leadership. These cultures were not created in one term or one campaign. Culture is not installed like software. It is grown.

So Sabah must walk its own path. Not by copying blindly. Not by punishing suddenly. Not by promising miracles. But by taking small steps, taken honestly. Bipartisan steps, taken together. Inclusive steps, involving all. Sure steps, taken consistently. Sustained steps, taken patiently.

Small Steps, Sure Steps, Sustained Steps

In the end, this is not just about bins. It is about who we choose to become. Sabah cannot celebrate forests, reefs and mountains – while treating drains, rivers and beaches as bins.

So yes, let us clean. But more importantly… let us teach, design, enforce and build malu, discipline and pride. Because if we win the war against future sampah, the present rubbish will quietly fade.

And we must be pragmatic. Not every habit will change overnight. Not every river will clear in one campaign. But progress does not need miracles. It needs small steps, taken honestly. Sure steps, taken consistently. Sustained steps, taken patiently. One clean street maintained. One school culture changed. One community disciplined. One hotspot transformed.

Small Habits, Long Destinies

Yet, despite everything, I remain stubbornly hopeful. Because volunteers still rise early to clean beaches. Students still collect trash with laughter. NGOs still fight plastics with patience. Councils are planning. Laws exist. Awareness is growing.

We are not helpless. We are simply… undisciplined. And discipline, unlike miracles, can be learned. Perhaps Sabah does not need grand slogans. It needs small habits.

Carry your rubbish. Separate your waste. Respect your drains. Love your beaches – actively, not sentimentally.

Because Mount Kinabalu does not complain. The sea does not protest. But tourists choose quietly. Investors notice silently. And children learn permanently.

Sabah is too beautiful to be remembered for sunsets and… rubbish. Reform that moves slowly but steadily travels further than revolutions that burn brightly… and fade.

A clean Sabah will not be built by grand announcements. It will be built by quiet persistence. By doing simple things well. By repeating them daily. Because in the end, cleanliness is not a programme. It is a habit. Not a campaign – but character. Not a regulation – but culture.

And when that culture finally takes root, Sabah will not need to say it is clean. The land will show it. The rivers will reflect it. The people will live it – quietly, naturally, every day.

When Culture Needs Capital

And yet, let us also speak plainly. Culture alone cannot build bins. Mindset cannot buy trucks. Passion cannot maintain landfills. Funding matters.

Waste management is not cheap. Fleets age quickly. Landfills fill faster than planned. Recycling requires infrastructure. Enforcement needs manpower, training and technology. Councils cannot perform miracles with shrinking budgets and expanding cities.

If we want cleaner streets, we must pay for better systems. If we want real enforcement,
we must fund officers, courts and tools. If we want recycling, we must invest before we print slogans.

The Final Discernment

Clean towns, cities and waterways are not moral achievements alone. They are financial commitments. And a government that truly values cleanliness must be willing not only to speak about it… but to budget for it.

Because neglect, in the end, always costs far more – in money, in health, in dignity, in reputation – than care ever will. And perhaps that is the final discernment of all.

Cleanliness is not about rubbish. It is about what kind of society we wish to become. What we tolerate. What we correct. What we invest in. What we pass on.

Because one day, our children will not remember our speeches. They will inherit our rivers. And they will judge us – quietly, fairly – by whether we left them a paradise or a plastic memory.