By Dr Rahim Said
It’s not often that we get to see a Malaysian minister eating humble pie in public. Usually, they prefer serving it — cold — to the rakyat, spiced with a touch of arrogance and garnished with “don’t question me.”
But this weekend, Housing and Local Government Minister Nga Kor Ming did something rare and almost refreshing: he apologised. Yes, he retracted his remarks, expressed remorse, and did the unthinkable — admitted a mistake.
Let’s be clear: Nga didn’t apologise for forgetting his speech or mispronouncing “lighting.”
He apologised for snapping at a journalist who dared to ask about the absurd English branding of his ministry’s “I Lite U” campaign. This slogan sounded more like a discount dating app than a tourism initiative.
Now, in that viral clip, Nga’s tone was less “minister addressing media” and more “headmaster scolding a naughty student.” The irony, of course, is that his ministry’s campaign was meant to shine light on Bukit Bintang — yet Nga’s reaction dimmed it faster than a blackout at Tenaga Nasional.
Still, today we applaud him. Because in Malaysia’s political climate, an apology is practically an endangered species. To see a sitting minister utter the words “I retract and apologise” is like spotting a unicorn at Putrajaya Parade. It’s not just rare — it’s almost mythical.
But here’s the part that should make every other politician squirm in their swivel chair: you can’t intimidate journalists and expect to walk away with your dignity intact.
The media’s job is to question, probe, and occasionally make ministers sweat a little — not to clap politely while slogans like I Lite U get launched into public ridicule.
What Nga did after his blunder was correct — he owned it. But what he did before that was a reminder of the creeping culture of political fragility we’ve come to know too well: leaders who love free speech as long as nobody exercises it.
So, bravo to Nga for his Sunday repentance. It’s a good start — a lite one, if you will — toward restoring public confidence. Perhaps next time, before ministers “lite” up their next PR gimmick, they might also enlighten themselves about humility, communication, and why journalists aren’t the enemy.
Because in the end, no lighting project, no matter how brightly it shines, can outshine a politician who actually knows when to say: “I was wrong.”
Now, if only a few others in Cabinet would take a bite of that same humble pie — before it goes stale.
The views expressed here are entirely those of the author.
WE