Sabah’s vote, Malaysia’s mirror

WHEN Sabah goes to the polls next month, the stakes will stretch far beyond the state’s borders.

The 17th Sabah election, due on Nov 29 this year, is more than a contest of parties and personalities – it is an acid test of trust in government, a referendum on just and fairness, and a reflection of the political maturity of Sabahans.

The most heated debate so far has not been about manifestos but about accessibility.

Kota Belud MP Isnaraissah Munirah Majilis warned that the Election Commission (EC)’s decision not to allow postal voting for Sabahans living in Peninsular Malaysia risks disenfranchising thousands.

“The EC risks denying many Sabahans their right to vote,” she said.

And we have to agree that she is right to be alarmed, and has sounded it out and loud and clear.

In a state where seeking job and education opportunities outside the homeland is necessary and common, the decision of EC feels like a quiet injustice.

For many, travelling home is not a simple bus ride – it is a flight across the South China Sea, followed by road travels on poor rural roads.

The irony is painful: even as politicians urge citizens to ‘fulfil their democratic duty’, logistical barriers make it a privilege for those who can afford it.

Sabah has one of Malaysia’s youngest electorates.

Many of them came of age after the ‘Sheraton Move’, after repeated promises of reform that never quite landed.

One comment on Malaysiakini’s ‘Yoursay’ page summed it up bluntly: “The ‘rakyat’ (people) have been ‘had’ – they were taken for a ride twice: first with the Sheraton Move, now with the Madani Moves.”

That disillusionment is real.

Young Sabahans scroll through political videos on TikTok, but their concerns are painfully grounded: roads that crumble after every monsoon, electricity that flickers, water tanks that run dry.

As one community facilitator observed: “Reliable water, stable electricity, good roads and accessible Internet remain urgent – across both urban and rural areas.”

In Keningau, a headman was quoted recently describing the only road out of his village as ‘like the moon’s surface – full of craters’.

It is a metaphor that needs no decoding.

Meanwhile, in Kota Kinabalu, political posters crowd the lampposts, promising ‘New Hope’, ‘Local Voice’, ‘Strong Sabah’, ‘Save Sabah’, and ‘Sabah for Sabahans’.

Between the longhouse and the city lies the truth of this election: the gap between words and life reality.

Candidates who underestimate this will pay dearly.

As one analyst wrote: “Perceptions now shape much of the political battleground.”

For the rural voters, perception is reality. When promises have been broken too often, silence becomes the loudest protest.

An interview of a trained communicator-turned-activist Angie Chin, which went viral last week, struck a chord.

Headlined ‘We don’t need more heroes, just courage’, it struck a chord.

“No sponsors, no political party, just conviction,” Angie said.

“Two cars, four women, six placards, and one message: ‘Sabah Deserves Better’.

“Sabahans don’t need slogans. We need roads that don’t collapse after one rain. We need clinics that have doctors. We need leaders who show up after the election, not just before.

“Sabah doesn’t need another hero with a slogan. We need leaders who treat service as a duty, not a career. If you want our respect, earn it. If you want our trust, guard it.”

It was a call to citizens, not politicians.

In a sense, this is Sabah’s quiet transformation – from waiting for saviours to taking ownership.

Independent MP Datuk Verdon Bahanda of Kudat captured this mood when he said: “As an independent, I can say what needs to be said without being limited, especially when it comes to MA63 (Malaysia Agreement 1963) and Sabah’s rights.”

His words echo a growing sentiment – that Sabah’s future must not be hostage to peninsula calculations.

The state’s political awakening is as much about self-respect as self-rule.

Datuk Seri Panglima Hajiji Noor, the caretaker Chief Minister, has urged voters ‘not to let Sabah fall into the hands of leaders who’ve already failed the people’.

It’s a classic incumbency pitch – the language of stability, of ‘better the devil you know’.

Yet, beneath it runs a deep fatigue with recycled faces and recycled rhetoric.

As one online commentator put it: “Nation doomed when recycled personalities with colourful pasts are promoted.”

The line went viral because it distilled what many felt – not anger, but exhaustion.

Add to that a layer of confusion. Fake posters with election dates have already circulated on WhatsApp, prompting the EC to issue denials.

In remote villages where connectivity is poor, such misinformation spreads faster than corrections.

For many in interior Sabah, news still travels by word of mouth, and sometimes by hearsay: ‘Orang Kampung’ Facebook posts, WhatsApp forwards, radio snippets.

How do you ensure a fair, informed vote in such a landscape?

The challenge is both technical and moral.

Beyond campaign slogans lies an older grievance: the MA63, and the perception that Sabah and Sarawak remain ‘junior partners’ in a federation built on unequal footing.

As Prof James Chin, a professor of Asian studies at the University of Tasmania, Australia who is widely regarded as the leading authority on contemporary political history of Sabah and Sarawak, wrote: “The promise of MA63 has been betrayed, with Sabah and Sarawak treated as little more than resource colonies.”

Whether or not one agrees, this sentiment fuels a yearning for dignity – a demand not just to be heard, but to be respected.

This is why Sabah’s election matters to the rest of Malaysia.

It will show whether our democracy can extend empathy across distance and difference.

Sabah and Sarawak have long been treated as ‘safe seats’ or ‘vote banks’.

But perhaps this time, the story will be different.

Perhaps the voters will prove that integrity and fairness can travel farther than money and machinery.

As the campaign drums grow louder, one hopes for quieter truths to be heard: the hum of a generator in a hill village; the chatter of youth volunteers on TikTok; the sigh of an old teacher filling her water tank again.

Elections are supposed to be about choice, but for many Sabahans, it is first about being given a chance to choose.

When that happens – when accessibility meets awareness, and courage replaces cynicism — then Sabah’s vote will indeed mirror Malaysia’s future.

* The opinions expressed in this article are the columnist’s own and do not reflect the view of the newspaper.

At the Waterfront

After our editorial meetings in Kota Kinabalu, I used to dash out for a walk along the waterfront. One evening, these boys called out and asked for a photo.

I didn’t know what their hand sign meant, but I joined them anyway – it felt right.

That picture has followed me for years, a reminder of a joyful, unplanned moment.

It captures what I love about Sabah – its easy laughter, its openness, and the way strangers can become friends in the span of a sunset.

As Sabah prepares for another election, I look at their faces and think: the future belongs to them – and perhaps, to all of us who still believe in kindness before politics.