Vision 2020 – What We Lost, and What We Still Stand to Lose

There was a time when Malaysia stood as a bold idea, a country built not on sameness, but on shared determination. A nation stitched together by people of different races, cultures, and religions, willing to coexist and build a home under one flag. This wasn’t easy. In fact, it was extraordinary.

From the very beginning, Malaysia’s struggle was not just to gain independence, it was to survive it. The British handed us a country divided by race and economy: Malays in agriculture, Chinese in business, Indians in estates. A colonial design meant to serve empire, not equity.

That legacy exploded in 1969. The cause was not hatred between races, but the deepening gap between them. One group was left behind while another moved ahead. One owned land and enterprise, another was left with promises and paddy fields. This inequality became a threat to national stability.

Then came the New Economic Policy (NEP), not as punishment, but as a remedy. Its purpose was to rebalance, to uplift, to create a more equitable society. It was an act of national survival, not racial favoritism. It sought to eliminate the link between race and economic function, to give Malays dignity through education and skills, not perpetual subsidy. And as Malays began to rise, the non-Malays continued to thrive.

From that fragile balance came momentum. And from that momentum, a vision: Wawasan 2020 – Vision 2020.

Launched by Tun Dr. Mahathir Mohamad, Vision 2020 was never just about economic development. It was about nationhood, a confident, united, high-performing Malaysia. Not a “Malay Malaysia” or “Chinese Malaysia”, but a Bangsa Malaysia. We had a roadmap, a dream we all could share. And for a time, we believed. Malaysia Boleh! wasn’t a slogan it was our spirit.

But we veered off course.

After the retirement of the old leadership, the national mission gave way to personal ambition. Politics turned inward. Institutions weakened. Personalities replaced policies. And the moral compass that had guided Malaysia for decades began to break.

Corruption, once discreet, became public spectacle. Power became transactional. Governments could be formed not through elections, but through bank accounts. Democracy turned into oligarchy with a smile. Today, voters are asked to believe their choices matter, even when backdoor deals overrule them.

More tragically, we lost our voice. Instead of honest national conversations, we now fear the so-called 3R taboo, Race, Religion, and Royalty. These topics are no longer spaces for reflection, but zones of censorship. Under the banner of harmony, Malaysians are told to keep quiet.

But silence is not peace. Silence is the breeding ground for resentment.

Look at France, where secularism silences religion in the name of neutrality. In reality, it created a fractured society, where Muslims feel targeted, excluded, and erased. Malaysia, in contrast, once celebrated its diversity out loud. We used to debate, argue, listen, and learn.

Today, even that is slipping away. Under the Madani administration, we are told not to talk, not to touch, not to question. But when the front is silenced, the back grows loud. And behind closed doors, people don’t whisper kindness, they whisper hate, lies, and suspicion.

The 3R laws do not build unity, they build walls. They do not prevent conflict, they prevent understanding. When Malaysians no longer learn about each other, they begin to fear each other. From fear comes hate. From hate, destruction.

We did not just lose Vision 2020, we lost direction. We spend more time discussing racial entitlement than national excellence. More time politicking than planning. More energy punishing critics than fixing institutions.

And yet many pretend all is well. The country isn’t collapsing, but neither is it growing. We are stagnant, morally, economically, and nationally.

Some of us had hoped for better. Some had even planned for it. But hope is not enough. Planning is not enough. Without unity, integrity, and courage, no plan will work.

Even worse, we are not allowed to speak about what is broken. And when the rakyat are silenced, we lose our chance to learn, adapt, and recover.

That’s why, even at 100 years old, Tun Dr. Mahathir still speaks. Not to seek power, but to remind us: we are repeating the same mistakes. He speaks because he remembers what we almost lost, and what we once dared to build.

This is not a call to return to the past. It is a call to learn from it. Preserve what worked. Fix what didn’t. And never, ever stop speaking the truth.

Because Bangsa Malaysia cannot be built in fear. It cannot thrive in silence. It cannot exist in censorship.

Let the people speak. Let the people learn. Let the people lead.

Malaysia still matters, not because we are perfect, but because we still have time.

Time to return to truth.

Time to restore integrity.

Time to rebuild the nation we once dared to imagine.

If we still dare.