Sunday, 15 February 2026

The Monolith vs. The Mosaic: A Critique of the Malaysian Higher Education Blueprint (2026–2035)

 


The recently unveiled Malaysia Higher Education Blueprint 2026–2035 (the Blueprint) is the second Blueprint on higher education published by the Ministry of Higher Education in the last ten years. The first covered the period from 2015 to 2025.

The new Blueprint sets out a broad new focus (page 10, the Blueprint) that outlines a ‘transformative shift’ in the higher education system to align it with future demands and challenges. It promises a shift from rigid, structured learning toward the unbundling of education that supports lifelong and life-wide pathways, while reframing graduates not only as job seekers but also as job creators equipped with entrepreneurial and innovative skills. Talent development is recast from output-driven to values-internalised and impact-driven, grounded in ethics and purpose, while leadership is envisioned as intrapreneurial and systems-thinking. Institutions are to be harmonised into collaborative ecosystems, competencies broadened into STEAM-enabled skills, and Malaysia’s ambition expanded from regional hub to global education centre that is competitive and prepared to meet the challenges of an evolving world.

The Blueprint’s new focus is undeniably ambitious, promising lifelong learning, entrepreneurial graduates, and sustainability-led leadership. Yet these shifts, like intrapreneurial, remain aspirational slogans rather than actionable reforms. The new document, as with the previous Blueprint (2015-2025), outlines what higher education should look like in an ideal future but provides no clear mechanisms, benchmarks, or evaluative tools to measure whether these transformations will succeed. Without a framework for accountability, the rhetoric of “unbundling education” and “values-internalised talent” risks becoming little more than fanciful branding, detached from the entrenched problems of access, equity, and community engagement that continue to define Malaysia’s higher education sector.

This absence of measurable pathways points to a deeper flaw: the Blueprint’s reliance on a top-down approach. By favouring ministerial vision over community realities, it assumes reform can be engineered from above without first engaging the diverse constituencies it seeks to serve. Instead of beginning with a rigorous audit of lived experiences—geographic, socioeconomic, and cultural—the Blueprint imposes a standardized model of progress.

The Fallacy of the Top-Down Reform
The Blueprint’s primary error is the assumption that reform can be engineered from the Ministry downwards without first conducting a system-wide audit of the "lived reality" of access. A proposal for reform should have begun with an assessment of the geographic, socioeconomic, and cultural factors that limit participation across our diverse regions. Instead, the document imposes a standardized vision of progress. To borrow from Paulo Freire, this approach mirrors the "banking model" of education: the state "deposits" a singular vision of the future into the system, treating the diverse societies of Malaysia as passive recipients rather than active participants in their own development.

A Nation of 50,000 Years: Diversity Beyond the Present
The "diversity" the Blueprint fails to recognize is not merely a matter of geography or economics; it is an epistemological and ontological pluralism. Malaysia is built on a mosaic of worldviews that define the "good life" in radically different ways. We are a nation of competing cosmologies, diverse social fabrics, and varied ways of knowing. Yet, instead of celebrating that unique diversity, we have voices in power that would abolish that diversity and place education, curriculum and all in a single Act of Parliament.

The most harrowing failure of a standardized "monolithic" plan is its inability to account for the Aboriginal and Indigenous peoples of this land. For the Orang Asli, whose presence in this region spans 50,000 years, education should be a bridge to the future that respects the sanctity of a rich and deep, localized past. When we impose a singular "Higher Education" model, we risk an act of epistemicide—the systematic destruction of alternative cultures. True education for a 50,000-year-old culture is not about assimilation into a globalized, urban-centric workforce; it is about recognizing that their understanding of the world is a "higher education" in its own right. As Freire argued, to impose a world on another is an act of violence.

The "One Act" vs. The Pluralistic Law
This monolithic thinking culminates in the proposed "One Higher Education Act" (OHEA). While "harmonization" sounds efficient, it often acts as a tool for homogenization. A more progressive approach—as envisioned in the Maszlee Committee's draft—would have been a two-part framework:

  1. The Universal Soul: A section codifying the "Idea of the University," protecting non-negotiable attributes like academic freedom, institutional autonomy, and the fundamental rights of students and staff.
  2. The Contextual Body: A section that preserves the unique policy objectives of diverse institutions. Rather than forcing every university into a standardized regulatory mould, the law should provide the flexibility for institutions like UiTM or local polytechnics, including a university or institution dedicated to indigenous studies to fulfil their specific social contracts without the pressure of fixed KPIs that may be irrelevant to their mission.

Conclusion
Higher education must be a practice of freedom, not a mechanism of conformity. The purpose of education is not to standardize to such an extent that it destroys the very cultures it claims to empower. To truly reform Malaysian higher education, we must move away from the top-down directive and return to a system designed from the individual and the community outwards. We do not need a "One Act" that makes us the same; we need a framework that guarantees our universal rights while protecting our 50,000-year-old diversities.

Thursday, 12 February 2026

Chan Ah Thong, Brickfields – A State of Mind

 The places we live in bring us together regardless of race, religion or language. One such place was Chan Ah Tong in Brickfields. Chan Ah Tong was not simply the name of a road in Brickfields, but the state of mind of a people from different origins living together,

For those who grew up in the period after WW2 and Independence in 1957, it was a part of the embryo of the multiracial country being formed at that time. 

I don’t know about the adults who lived there, but the boys we met from Chan Ah Tong, regardless of race, spoke in a common idiom; they grouped together, shared a common loyalty and even formed football and cricket teams. 

"Dei", a Tamil word, was a commonly used term to call someone or as an interjection or filler to keep the speech flowing. This single, percussive syllable acted as the heartbeat of their interactions—a linguistic bridge that rendered the distinctions of their parents' origins irrelevant.

In this embryonic Malaysia, identity was forged on the sunken playing field bordered by the houses and the main road. It must have been formed after the red earth was dug out to make the bricks that rebuilt Kuala Lumpur after the great fire at the end of the 19th century. 

If the place was the embryo of a nation in making, Chan Ah Tong boys were the early births from that embryo. 

To those who today seek to divide Malaysian society along communal lines, the memory of Chan Ah Tong offers a sharp rebuke. It proves that ethnic identities are not monoliths but fabric that can be woven together. When the Vivekananda Ashram, the Sam Kow Tong Temple, the Madrasathul Gouthiyyah Surau and the local churches all stood within the same square mile, they didn't compete for dominance; they provided a collective spiritual canopy for a community that saw itself as a single unit.

Today, the field is a car park, and the quarters have been demolished to make way for new structures. But the lesson of the Chan Ah Tong culture remains: unity is not something that needs to be engineered through policy if it is first allowed to bloom through proximity. Those who preach division would do well to remember that for decades, in a small corner of Brickfields, Malaysians had already figured out how to live together—not by ignoring their differences, but by playing, eating, and dreaming right in the middle of them.

To look back at that era is to remember its lesson that the "Malaysian identity" was never a complex puzzle to be solved by politicians. It was already there, loud and unforced, in the shout of a Chinese boy calling "Dei" across a Brickfields field, standing as living proof that we were always meant to be one.

Saturday, 7 February 2026

Welcome to "Learning About Today" – A New Chapter

 Welcome to "Learning About Today" – A New Chapter

For a long time, this space was known as Private Education Malaysia. It served as a record of mainly the private sector of education and my career as an educator in that sector. But as the world around us shifts—becoming louder, more complex, and increasingly fragmented—I have felt the need for this blog to shift along with it.
Today, I am officially renaming this site Learning About Today.
Why the Change?
My life’s work has been dedicated to education, but I have come to realise that "learning" does not end at the school gates. We are currently living through a period of profound digital noise. The traditional media "gatekeepers" are fading, replaced by a "many-to-many" landscape of podcasts, social media influencers, and independent blogs.
While this shift has democratized information, it has also created a crisis of truth. We are no longer just students of subjects; we are students of survival in an age of misinformation, "rage-bait" algorithms, and charismatic broadcasters who often prioritise engagement over objectivity.
What to Expect
Learning for Today will continue to feature my reflections on education, but the lens will be broader. I will be exploring the intersection of media, power, and the institutions of democracy.
We will look at:
  • Media Literacy: How to deconstruct the "digital noise" and spot the tactics of modern authoritarianism.
  • Democratic Advocacy: Why the plethora of new media can lead to confusion and withdrawal, and how we can stay engaged.
  • The Educator’s Perspective: Why learning to navigate the news must become a fundamental part of our national curriculum.
Our First Lesson: The Drowning of Democracy
To kick off this new chapter, I am publishing an essay that touches on the very heart of why I am making this change: "Hiding in Plain Sight: How Digital Noise is Paving the Road to Autocracy."
In it, I discuss how the "colossal failure" of traditional media (most recently seen in the reporting on the genocide in Palestine) has pushed us toward a decentralized media world that—while liberating—is fraught with new dangers.
Join the Conversation
I am grateful to those who have followed my writing here and through my contributions to Aliran. I hope you will stay with me for this new journey. Democracy is not a spectator sport; it requires a public that is willing to keep learning, every single day.
Welcome to the classroom. Let’s start learning.