Why Malaysia keeps writing education plans that go nowhere

In January, the Ministry of Education unveiled a new education plan for 2026–35.

Despite an extensive engagement process in its formulation, nothing much about it feels fundamentally new. It is just old wine in a new bottle.

Since the launch of the National Education Philosophy in 1988 and the promises of Vision 2020, launched in 1991, Malaysia has cycled through several major education plans.

Each has failed to deliver satisfactorily because real change in education cannot happen without a simultaneous shift in the broader socio-political and cultural environment.

Today, the dream of becoming a high-income, industrialised, developed nation still eludes the country. Nor do we have a population of physically fit people who are academically and technologically equipped with the skills needed. Neither are we all critical and creative thinkers with moral and spiritual values. These were the aspirations of all our previous plans.

Yet the 2026–35 plan aims for “integrated transformation” to, once again, create “holistic individuals” guided by moral values, responsible citizenship and national unity.

Why are we chasing the same goals with the same strategies, yet expecting different outcomes?

Plans do not become magical spells just because we have them. They require grit, intelligence and the courage to address deep, unresolved systemic contradictions – and our tendency towards abrupt policy reversals.

Failure is nothing but a challenge, but in Malaysia, failure is often seen as the end of any effort. It puts a full stop to things.

Instead, each failure should be seen as part of a series of challenges. We need to pursue the changes we want, tinkering with each setback through readjustments and realignments before we can even hope to succeed.

One of the biggest blunders this country has ever seen was the rescinding of the PPSMI policy of teaching science and maths in English and the ETeMS, a teacher training programme designed to support the policy.

In 2003, the MoE attempted an important educational shift by introducing the PPSMI. It was a strategy that could have put the nation on track to achieve most of our lost aspirations.

With bilingualism – nay, multilingual mastery, encompassing Malay, English, Tamil, Mandarin and Arabic – we could have opened up a metaphorical superhighway. We could have commanded all kinds of knowledge, skills and opportunities.

But there were two problems.

First, teachers faced significant hurdles, including limited English proficiency and inadequate training, which affected both their willingness and ability to adapt. So these teachers resisted the change, preferring to remain in their comfort zones. Learning a new skill is hard.

The other: the politicians. They could not see or think beyond the next election date.

The PPSMI ran for nearly a decade. The reversal was announced in 2009. It was then phased out and fully replaced by 2012. One wonders whether the crushing blow suffered by Barisan Nasional in the 2008 general election may have influenced the decision.

Yet we forget that change is a manageable thing. Shifting the language of instruction worked in the late 1970s, when English-medium school teachers began teaching in Malay.

All plans have glitches. All plans require rethinking, tinkering and painful readjustments.

Sadly, today we carry on with the PPSMI but timidly, through the DLP (Dual-Language Programme) in selected schools. We know the value of bilingual education but we don’t seem quite willing to commit to it fully.

We should have persisted.

Systemic contradictions

With the current strategies in the plan, there is hope for change. But the truth is we also need a culture of integrity, grit and character to sustain it.

Real change is, in the end, part of a systemic process. The socio-political environment and cultural thinking must change too.

The blueprints have always talked about producing ethical individuals, but children grow up in ecosystems that are often openly corrupt.

Education plans are frequently impeded by questionable procurement contracts.

The case of Rosmah Mansor – convicted by the High Court in 2022 of corruption charges related to helping secure a RM1.25bn solar hybrid project for rural schools in Sarawak (her appeal is pending) – comes to mind, among others.

Programmes are derailed when equipment malfunctions, buildings leak or collapse or service provision is poor – all symptoms of a culture that is deeply flawed.

The rot can reach the very top. Malaysia has seen leaders with tainted reputations emerge from across the political spectrum. For example, various figures convicted of corruption or who were granted a discharge not amounting to an acquittal have held senior positions.

“Integrity” becomes a myth when such cases repeatedly occur. This leads many to feel that the blueprints, the teachers and the textbooks have little meaningful bearing for students because real life teaches them other values.

We desperately need to change this toxic environment. But the more we want to reform, the more we seem to tumble into the same rabbit hole.

The Catch-22 of decentralisation

Schools can turn some failures around, including teacher incompetencies, when they become decentralised organisations empowered to be self-sustaining learning communities that monitor and maintain standards.

When we empower teachers to be better in their own respective contexts, everyone benefits: students, educators, school leaders and even parents.

However, decentralised decision-making and financial independence come with a problem: trust.

Too much money in too many hands, in our current environment, cannot be a good thing. But when we withhold funds and place them in the wrong hands, we hold back the nation’s aspirations. That is the Catch-22.

We cannot trust local decision-makers because of the culture we have created. But we cannot fix the culture without empowering them.

Defining our moral framework

Our education blueprints speak consistently about values but fail to define them. Values fundamentally fall into two types: those defined externally by rules and dogma, and those derived internally from reflection, reasoning and empathy.

While both are necessary, an over-reliance on external rules over time can produce people with conditioned behaviour and prescribed beliefs. These people are more likely to be intolerant of questions and may even reject evidence, as seen among some ardent defenders of the legally convicted Najib Razak.

People with reflective values, however, are more difficult to manipulate and require more intelligent persuasion and evidence.

But politicians naturally prefer the former type, for such people are easily manipulated, outraged or made to feel insulted. Hence today, we are seeing increasing incidents of discrimination and intolerance towards other cultures and communities. This mocks the national unity aspirations enshrined in the nation’s education blueprints.

To pivot towards reflective thinking, classrooms need more debates, open-ended questions and healthy guided arguments that are open, critical and diverse.

We also need elements of cross-cultural and religious education that are not weighted to favour any one religion or culture, as an attempt to bridge the fractures in our multi-ethnic society.

Children need to explore and appreciate the different grains and textures of our vibrant, multi-ethnic heritage. They should learn that no ethnic group should be generalised and that lazy stereotypes are deeply unfair. Ethnic Indians are not kicap, nor are the Chinese sepet, and Malays are not malas.

Some argue that children may need a different balance of traditional religious instruction in schools. This need not mean rejecting the fundamentals of religion, but making it more relevant to contemporary values and human needs.

However, this is not likely to happen, as some may believe that too much critical thinking could undermine religious faith.

And so, any attempt at real change in thinking is likely to be half-hearted, taking us neither here nor there.

Looking ahead

The country will never really move forward if it continues to rely on the mere production of visions, especially if this production lacks commitment, clarity and congruence with the real world.

The blueprint calls for many meaningful strategies, but if the overall socio-political system does not change, all plans for reform will somehow become moot.

To make this plan work, those in power need to get off their plush seats, think rationally, embrace failure and criticism, and make the hard, painful choices.

Or we can simply become the next chapter in a long history of expensive, delusionary plans.

Sukeshini NairCo-editor, Aliran newsletter12 May 2026

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