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We are surrounded by racism. If you are a Bumiputera, you often are racist.

Lately, I’ve been grappling with a difficult question: Is it racist to design public policies that explicitly favour the Bumiputera? Or have we, as a nation, decided that this particular form of racism is acceptable? At times, I feel a quiet guilt as though I’m betraying my ancestry simply by questioning these structures. I’m aware of the reasoning behind these affirmative action policies. Nevertheless, I want to live in a Malaysia where opportunities are allocated based on genuine disadvantage, not racial identity. Where public policy reflects equity, not ethnic hierarchy. To reach that future, we need the courage and maturity to have honest, constructive conversations which can unify our diversity.

Many of us have witnessed what I can only describe as a form of economic apartheid even if we’ve lacked the language or the social permission to call it out. For me, the real reckoning began in college, when several non-Bumiputera friends opened up about their struggles. One moment remains etched in my mind: a friend snapped, “Bro, shut up. You’re favoured by the nation, and we’re not.” He was referring to things like ASB, housing discounts, and university access — privileges I had taken for granted.

Alhamdulillah, I am grateful to be born a Bumiputera, and I will always honour my heritage. But I also believe that policies rooted in ethnic preference, rather than socioeconomic need, slowly chip away at the dream of a truly united Malaysia. That’s a reality I can no longer ignore and one I’m deeply uncomfortable with.

My argument isn’t just based on personal anecdotes. For decades, Malaysia’s public policy framework has been built on a racialised logic of opportunity allocation, where ethnicity too often determines access to state support, financial tools, and upward mobility. It’s time we ask: How long can we afford to prioritise race over fairness? Heck, have such policies even reached their intended results?

One of the most telling and enduring examples of racially biased public policy in Malaysia is the New Economic Policy (NEP), implemented between 1971 and 1990. Born in the aftermath of the 1969 racial riots, the NEP was introduced under the noble banner of national unity. Its goal, to restructure Malaysian society and eliminate the economic roles traditionally tied to race. On paper, it sought to uplift all economically disadvantaged Malaysians. In practice, however, the policy was explicitly racialised and designed to disproportionately benefit the Bumiputera, particularly the Malay majority.

At its core, the NEP aimed to raise Bumiputera ownership in the corporate sector to 30%. Yet instead of focusing on genuine economic hardship, it used race as a proxy for disadvantage. It ignores the fact that many non-Bumiputera Malaysians were also poor and marginalised. This raises a difficult moral question: If we only have limited food, is it just to feed only the Malays while leaving the Chinese and Indians hungry? When public policy is used to uplift one group while sidelining others in need, we must ask ourselves: Is that equity, or is it discrimination repackaged as justice?

Even within the Malay community, the benefits of the NEP were not equitably shared. Over time, the policy became fertile ground for elite capture. A politically connected class of Malays gained privileged access to state contracts, corporate licenses, and financial handouts. This birthed the now-infamous Ali-Baba system where a Malay frontman (Ali) would partner with a Chinese entrepreneur (Baba), securing government contracts meant for Bumiputera firms, only to subcontract them out. These arrangements often added little real value to Malaysia, instead functioning as rent-seeking ventures that inflated costs and wasted public funds.

In the end, the NEP failed its own people. While poverty rates dropped overall, the distribution of gains was skewed. Even several ordinary Malays remained stuck in cycles of rural poverty, low wages, and inadequate education. The policy’s racial logic created a hierarchy in which race replaced merit, and privilege no longer corresponded with actual need. Perhaps unintended, the NEP entrenched a racialised economic order. If left unchallenged, affirmative action without accountability becomes a tool of oppression, not empowerment.

If anyone still doubts whether Malaysia’s public policies are racially biased, the NEP remains the clearest and most painful proof. And the problem didn’t stop there. Many other policies that followed also reflect the same bias, and disturbingly, even within the Malay community, benefits are disproportionately skewed toward the well-connected elite, not the everyday rakyat. Have a read on Bumiputera housing discount, for example, and look at how other races had to bear the rebate benefit enjoyed by the Bumiputera. Is that fair?

Malaysia doesn’t need more racial handouts. We need a fundamental shift from race-based to needs-based policies which recognise disadvantage wherever it exists, and extend opportunity based on who needs help most, not who they were born as. That is the only path to a just and united Malaysia.

“Yes, the Malays need help — but the poor among all races deserve our support. We must move beyond policies that divide us.” — Anwar Ibrahim’s Speech at the International Malaysia Law Conference, 2022

Yet, to be intellectually honest and morally grounded, it’s important to acknowledge that Malaysia is beginning to reckon with the consequences of decades of race-based policymaking. There is growing awareness that ethnic-based entitlement systems are no longer sustainable, just, or aligned with the spirit of national unity. A promising sign of this shift is evident in the government’s move toward targeted subsidy reform in Budget 2025.

For the first time in recent memory, the government has openly acknowledged that blanket subsidies disproportionately benefit the wealthy, regardless of race. The current subsidy model (particularly for fuel, electricity, and cooking oil) often favours higher-income groups who consume more, while lower-income Malaysians receive far less relative benefit. In Budget 2025, the government outlined plans to phase out these broad-based subsidies and replace them with targeted assistance for the B40 and vulnerable M40 households, based on income level and household need, not ethnic identity.

This pivot marks an important departure from Malaysia’s long-standing reliance on race as a proxy for disadvantage. It’s an early but significant step toward needs-based affirmative action — a policy framework that recognises poverty, inequality, and structural disadvantage across all ethnic groups, and seeks to uplift those who are most in need, regardless of background. 

Such reforms are not just economically prudent. They are also morally necessary, protecting the dignity of multicultural Malaysia. They reflect the reality that poverty exists in all communities, and that true national progress cannot be built on the selective empowerment of one group over another. In a country as diverse as Malaysia, affirmative action must evolve to become inclusive, transparent, and temporary, designed to correct structural injustices, not to perpetuate racial privilege. If Malaysia is to become a fair and cohesive society, it must continue this transition, dismantling old structures that divide us, and building new ones that heal.

Reformasi Movement [Source: The Malaysian Insight, 2018]

So, what should you take from this article?

First, we Malaysians, especially the Bumiputera, must confront a difficult truth: we have, for too long, benefited from policies that are racially biased against our fellow citizens. We must be willing to listen when others speak of this injustice, even when it makes us uncomfortable. Acknowledging racial privilege is not an act of betrayal, but an act of maturity.

Second, and perhaps more crucial, we need to rebuild something that has slowly eroded over time: trust. Trust that letting go of special treatment does not mean abandoning our own people, and trust that a fairer system will not leave anyone behind. If anything, we must ask ourselves: Are these racial handouts even sustainable? What happens when the money runs dry? Or worse, what if it’s stolen by someone who throws lavish parties in Vegas and funds film productions about a wolf? If and when that happens, does hell still seem so far away?

In my view, I would rather struggle and fail on my own terms, by effort and merit, than be held afloat by a system that I know is unjust, and one that could collapse at any moment due to forces outside my control. Perhaps the real reason we cling to racial privilege is fear. Fear of failure, fear of uncertainty, and fear of being left behind without the safety net of entitlement. Maybe we find it easier to blame the system, or other races, when things go wrong. But I doubt Khairul Aming waited for racially biased policies to sell Sambal Nyet.

Jokes aside, I hope this essay challenges you to reflect on racial hierarchy, unfair advantages, and the kind of nation we wish to become. Because only when we step out of the comfort of privilege, can we begin to stand shoulder to shoulder, as Malaysians. Though, some of us may have to stand shoulder to head. You know what, that’s a terrible joke, I won’t apologise.

Teh ais mangkuk satu,

Hakeem.