From Boo Jia Cher

Last weekend, residents of SS14 in Subang Jaya took to the streets, not over politics or prices, but a flyover.

The proposed elevated link between Jalan Lagoon Selatan and the Subang-Kelana Link was quietly approved by the Subang Jaya City Council (MBSJ) despite repeated calls from residents for transparency.

They had been promised another engagement session. It never happened. Instead, they found out through a community newspaper that the project had already been given the greenlight.

For those living in Malaysia’s urban areas, this story feels all too familiar. Whether it is a new skyscraper condominium or the endless highway expansions in and around the Klang Valley, local residents are often the last to know, and the first to bear the consequences.

Why does this keep happening?

The short answer: our local councils don’t really answer to us.

Malaysia hasn’t had local council elections since 1965. Councillors are appointed by state governments, often through political channels.

This means their loyalty flows upward, not downward. They are more accountable to politicians and developers than to the people who actually live in their areas.

At the same time, councils depend heavily on developers for income. Planning fees, conversion premiums and development charges make up a big chunk of their revenue. The more projects approved, the more money flows in.

That’s why “growth”, often measured by how many new buildings or flyovers go up, is seen as success — even when it worsens traffic, pollution and quality of life.

In the Subang Jaya case, residents say they have been stonewalled at every turn. The council won’t share basic documents like the traffic impact assessment (TIA), environmental impact assessment (EIA), or social impact assessment (SIA).

Officials even claimed the massive 2km flyover didn’t need a development order. That’s a worrying sign of how weak our checks and balances have become.

This pattern repeats everywhere. Look at the PJD Link: a highway revived after strong public objection killed its earlier version, the Kinrara-Damansara Expressway (Kidex).

Despite repeated protests by Petaling Jaya residents, the project was pushed forward again under a new name. Even after it was announced as cancelled during the last Selangor state election, it somehow reincarnated — with the same opaque playbook and the same hollow “public consultations”.

And protests like these are only possible in places like Petaling Jaya, where a more educated and better-connected community has the time, resources, and know-how to demand accountability.

For most Malaysians, whose days are spent simply trying to make a living, there’s little time or energy to protest, let alone find out that an elevated highway is being built right outside their window.

Our local planning system has become too cosy with private developers and too distant from ordinary people. Public engagement sessions are treated like formalities, not opportunities to listen.

And because we lack a strong freedom of information law, councils can hide behind technical excuses and “internal documents”.

Yet whenever the issue of restoring local elections comes up, we hear the same tired refrain: “Malaysia is not ready.”

This argument, often wrapped in vague warnings about racial tension, is nothing more than fear mongering, painting local democracy as dangerous. But what is so dangerous about residents caring for their own streets, their neighbourhood park or the walkway from the LRT station?

The truth is, the refusal to restore local elections has little to do with preserving racial harmony, and everything to do with preserving control.

By keeping local councils unelected, power remains concentrated at the top, in the hands of state governments, party elites and their developer cronies.

It ensures that decisions about our streets and neighbourhoods are made by those who may never live there, yet profit from what happens there.

Bringing back local elections isn’t just about democracy for its own sake. It is about restoring a sense of ownership, that every resident, regardless of race or class, has a voice in shaping the place they call home.

Because this isn’t just about Subang Jaya, or one flyover. It is about the kind of cities we are building and for whom. We have built way too many highways, condos and shopping malls, and far too little avenues for trust, transparency and participation.

Until we bring back local council elections, enforce open access to planning documents, and treat residents as partners, not obstacles, these conflicts will keep flaring up.

The protests of the residents of SS14 are representative of something much larger: the rakyat who just want to be heard and play an active role in the development and upkeep of their local area.

That shouldn’t be too much to ask in a democracy.

Boo Jia Cher is an FMT reader.

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.