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The Star
an hour ago
- The Star
A sea of unity flowing in Penang
GEORGE TOWN: Rotor blades thundered and steel-grey hulls gleamed as the Royal Malaysian Navy (TLDM) staged an aerial and naval display for the Asean Navies' City Parade at the Esplanade in Padang Kota Lama here. Four helicopters in close formation circled overhead, while five Fast Interceptor Crafts (FIC) skimmed the waters in high-speed manoeuvres. The FICs, designed for coastal patrol, surveillance, rapid response, rescue and intercept missions, cut clean lines across the strait to cheers from the crowd. For safety officer Azman Rahim, 42, the event was worth the trip from Butterworth with his wife and children. 'We came with our two young kids because we didn't want to miss this spectacular event. 'The helicopter flyby and navy boats moving in formation are not things you see every day. 'My children were waving the Jalur Gemilang as the boats and ships passed, and I could see the pride in their eyes. 'Events like this remind us of how strong our country stands, not just alone but with our neighbours. Real deal: Curious children taking turns to 'play soldier' with the small arms on display.— LIM BENG TATT/The Star 'I hope my children grow up appreciating the sacrifices of our armed forces and continue to love our country,' he said. On the ground, visitors got the opportunity to hold the navy's small arms under supervision. Rifles such as the M16, M4 Carbine and L7A2 machine gun were displayed for public interaction. Among the curious crowd was seven-year-old Chong Wei Ming, who struggled to lift a weapon almost as long as his arm. 'I like to play soldier at home with toy guns,' he said shyly. 'But this is the first time I have touched a real one. It's so heavy! 'I didn't know real guns are like this.' His father, Henry Chong, 48, said his son always pretends to be a soldier, adding: 'But now he realises it's not just for fun. There's real responsibility and discipline behind it.' The parade featured 23 contingents, including naval crews from eight Asean countries, students, marching bands and cultural performers. The crowd cheering as TLDM officers march in formation along Jalan Padang Kota Lama for the Asean Navies' City Parade in George Town. — LIM BENG TATT/The Star They marched past Penang Governor Tun Ramli Ngah Talib and his wife Toh Puan Raja Noora Ashikin Raja Abdullah, with Navy chief Admiral Tan Sri Dr Zulhelmy Ithnain and Penang Speaker Datuk Seri Law Choo Kiang on stage. The parade rekindled memories of the 1990 International Royal Fleet Review, when 59 warships and over 11,000 naval personnel visited Penang. On Friday, 10 warships from Asean navies had berthed at the Swettenham Pier Cruise Terminal ahead of a week of defence events under Malaysia's Asean chairmanship. They are KD Kedah, KD Lekiu and KD Lekir (TLDM), UMS Kin Sin Phyu (Myanmar), RSS Vigour (Singapore), BRP Antonio Luna (the Philippines), KRI Bung Tomo (Indonesia), VPNS Quang Trung (Vietnam), HTMS Krabi (Thailand) and KDB Darulaman (Brunei). The 19th Asean Navy Chiefs' Meeting will take place tomorrow at Shangri-La Rasa Sayang Resort in Batu Ferringhi, followed by the Asean Chief Navy Interaction Programme at Penang Hill on Wednesday, which will include a tree-planting ceremony and the launch of the Asean Harmony Grove. The Asean Fleet Review on Thursday will close the series, with all participating warships sailing in formation through the northern strait. Malaysia holds the Asean Chair for 2025 under the theme 'Inclusivity and Sustainability'.
The Star
an hour ago
- The Star
Beyond the smoke: Who, what really fuels the fires?
THE tropical fire season is back and so is the usual script. Cue the haze, cue the headlines, cue the finger-pointing. As The Star (July 28) reported, Singapore, Indonesia and Malaysia now face a 'medium' risk of severe haze in 2025 – up from last year's 'low.' Translation? Things are heating up. The air thickens, the sky turns sepia, health warnings, N95 respirator facemasks up and the blame spreads faster than the flames. Satellite dots appear, outrage flares and like clockwork, oil palm plantations and companies are cast as the usual suspects. Trial by public opinion, guilt by logo. The truth is far more complex. Many fires may start from dry peatlands, other annual crop burning, shifting cultivation, land conflicts or legal loopholes. Painting oil palm planters as fire-happy villains oversimplifies a tangled reality. In the annual haze drama, nuance is the first casualty – scapegoats, the easy headline. A dose of basic logic Before we reach for pitchforks, let's pause and apply some basic logic. If I'm wrong, and my reasoning's out, I rest my case. But if I'm right, perhaps it's time we look beyond the usual immediate suspects. Yes, fires sometimes happen near plantations. But why would any rational planter set fire to carefully planted productive, fertilised land that's yielding crop then or in future? That's not just foolish. It's self-sabotage. Professionally run estates in fire-prone areas are often well equipped to prevent and fight them. Most enforce strict no-burn policies, invest in drones, patrol teams, water tankers, fire towers and even maintain firefighting squads on standby. They wouldn't spend millions if not intend to prevent and stop fires. More often, fires drift in from elsewhere, and the concession holder gets blamed. It's the plantation version of being caught with someone else's matchstick. If burning starts or happens on a plantation, it's usually during land clearance, not harvesting – and these bad actors must be held accountable. Today, zero-burning isn't just best practice – it's the law, with serious legal and reputational risks. Unlike sugarcane or rice, fire has no place in oil palm management. It's not a tool – it's a manager's nightmare! Zero-burning: Baseline expectation Once upon a time, clearing land in the tropics took little more than a matchstick and dry weather. It was cheap and 'efficient' – until the smoke choked cities, grounded planes and embarrassed companies and nations. That pre-90s era is over. The turning point? The 1997-1998 haze crisis, which turned palm oil into a global scapegoat and forced a hard rethink. Malaysia responded with its Zero Burning Policy in 1999 and Indonesia followed suit. What began as good practice is now strict law and policy, and also backed by sustainability standards like the Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil, the Malaysian Sustainable Palm Oil and the Indonesian Sustainable Palm Oil. It has become the industry's conscience. Today, lighting a fire isn't just reckless, it's a fast lane to losing your licence, market access and reputation. Peat fires: Slow-burning nightmare Let's talk about the worst fire offender: peat areas. Tropical peatlands – rich in ancient carbon – are ecological treasures turned tinderboxes when dry. A single spark can unleash underground infernos that smoulder for weeks, releasing huge amounts of CO², methane and also carbon monoxide. Fine particulate matter (PM2.5) particles can cause various health problems, including respiratory ailments and cardiovascular complications. Peat fires don't roar, they can self-ignite, be caused naturally by lightning or accidentally or unintentionally through lack of control, and also sometimes, deliberately by arson. However once started, they often creep silently, invisible to the eye, burning beneath the surface like whispered scandal. Fuelled by centuries of decayed vegetation, they're almost impossible to extinguish. Water barely penetrates and collapsing ground can swallow fire crews and machines whole. Worse? Blame is hard to pin down. In South-East Asia, peatlands span plantations, smallholders, villages and forests. When they burn, it's less 'whodunnit' and more 'everyone's in the blast zone.' Peat doesn't just burn – it betrays. The smallholders equation and shifting cultivation Across the tropics, millions of smallholders work modest plots with little more than a parang and grit. Fires often start not inside plantations, but in buffer zones, fringes or enclaves managed legally or illegally by these farmers. Indonesian law (Environmental Law No. 32 of 2009) permits controlled burning on plots under two hectares for traditional land clearing — if done safely with proper firebreaks. The goal is to balance tradition with environmental safeguards. In practice, though, firebreaks are often inadequate, enforcement is limited, and fires can escape. Multiply that across millions of smallholder plots, and during drought, it's a recipe for transboundary haze. Controlled burning may be legal — but in extreme drought, even a small fire can become a runaway blaze. Nature doesn't follow legislation. Yet when smoke drifts into cities, it's rarely the smallholders who get blamed. They don't wear corporate logos. Plantation companies make easier and more visible targets. Fires linked to estates spark outrage. Fires on small plots? They vanish into the haze — unfilmed, unmentioned and politely ignored. Smallholders aren't villains but the silence around their role is a major blind spot. In many remote areas of the tropics, subsistence farmers still practise shifting cultivation — a traditional method where fire is less destruction, more renewal. With no fertilisers, machines or cash to spare, they rely on ash to restore soil nutrients for crops like padi tunggal. Fire, for them, is a tool of survival. Compost? Organic fertiliser? These villages are days from roads, let alone supply chains. Asking them to switch methods without alternatives is like asking someone in a treehouse to install plumbing. For remote subsistence farmers, burning belukar is often the only affordable way to clear land. Shifting cultivators burn to survive, not to harm — just to grow enough to feed their families. During dry spells, these fires can easily spread. There are no firebreaks or fire trucks — only a barefoot farmer with a tree branch and a prayer. When fires get out of control, oil palm plantations shouldn't be blamed by default especially when the source lies elsewhere. Context matters. When data smokescreens the truth Satellites are ideal at spotting heat, smoke and red hot-spots. But what they don't show is intent or context. Did the fire start in a village? Was it a rogue smallholder? A smouldering peatland? A revenge arsonist? The satellite doesn't say. It just lights up and leaves the rest to interpretation. And in today's competitive media landscape, complexity doesn't trend. Headlines need neat villains. Plantation companies, with GPS-tagged maps and slow-footed public relations, make easy targets. Some NGOs and reports wield satellite data like horoscopes — open to creative reading, depending on the agenda. Data without context is just smoke with no source — and when used carelessly, it clouds the truth more than it clears the air. Arson, vengeance and opportunism Not all fires are accidents or acts of nature. Some are deliberate acts of sabotage, land grabs or age-old grudges set alight. In this smoky subplot, fire becomes a weapon — not a tool. Across oil palm regions, arson is real — though rarely headlined. Trespassers have been known to set fires in concession areas, then return with claims of land rights or compensation. Things get murkier where plantations surround villages, customary land or enclaves within concessions. Fires may start in these pockets — accidentally or not — but satellites don't distinguish between kebun and corporate blocks. From above, it all looks like one burning estate. Tackling tropical fire risk means wading into a thicket of messy, often politically inconvenient truths. It means: Reforming land laws that have loopholes. Providing rural communities with affordable alternatives to fire-based clearing. Investing in early detection, enforcement and on-the-ground firefighting capacity — not just public relation campaigns. Creating real incentives for fire-and haze-free land management. And perhaps most sensitive of all: navigating the political minefield of millions of voters who are also smallholders. Ah, this one? Let's just say it's not the kind of thing politicians like to fan during campaign season. Clear the smoke, Non just the skies Let's be clear: this isn't about shifting blame — it's about acknowledging shared responsibility. Fires in the tropics aren't sparked by lone villains; they're driven by a complex mix of causes. These are systemic issues that require collective, not selective, wise effective solutions. Plantation companies are far from the cartoon arsonists they're often made out to be. In fact, many are well-equipped with trained teams, surveillance tools, and firefighting infrastructure, often going beyond compliance and obligations to protect both their crops and the surrounding communities. Yet, instead of being recognised as potential partners in fire prevention, they're too often portrayed as the primary culprits. It's time to move from blame to collaboration. Unfortunately, blaming plantations make better headlines. Resulting large fires fanned by strong winds to estates come with drama: red hotspots, drone shots and corporate villains. But fires from sugarcane, rice fields or a pakcik with a sickle? That probably don't sell. Criticising smallholders often backfires, drawing sympathy instead. Unless the authorities rewrite the fire playbook, this hazy theatre will return every dry season, same cast, same script. Whatever the cause, one thing's clear: fire and haze help no one. No one wakes up wishing for ash in their lungs or smog in their skyline. It's a burning issue — literally. But now it's time we stopped torching the truth and the plantations along with the trees. Joseph Tek Choon Yee has over 30 years experience in the plantation industry, with a strong background in oil palm research and development, C-suite leadership and industry advocacy. The views expressed here are the writer's own
The Star
a day ago
- The Star
Blooming in full glory again
Delicate beauty: Norhazlin showing off her Hibiscus rosa-sinensis double bloom at her house in Kepala Batas. — LIM BENG TATT/The Star KEPALA BATAS: Where have all the bunga raya gone? Once a familiar sight in home gardens, Malaysia's national flower is becoming less common in neighbourhoods across the country. There are reasons for their lack of presence, though. 'I live in a terrace house, so I am lucky to have a small garden. 'My mother and I still enjoy planting flowers, especially hibiscus, but not everyone has the space,' said housewife Norhazlin Mhd Yakin, 37. 'Now, it's no longer practical for many. In those days, people used to grow all kinds of plants in the kampung, especially the bunga raya,' she said. Plant nursery operator Ahmad Zaidi Abu Bakar, 44, said the traditional varieties of bunga raya still have loyal enthusiasts, but trends have changed. 'In rural areas, the kampung types remain popular. 'But recently, people are going for the hybrid versions, like the Hawaiian ones. They're eye-catching, with bright colours and fancy names like 'Midnight Magic', 'Sunset' and even 'Rainbow',' he said. He explained that these hybrids often come in exotic shades, including a rare blue, but they tend to be more delicate. These types prefer cooler temperatures as well, he said. 'Compared to them, the kampung bunga raya is a tough plant. 'It needs little water and does well in our hot weather,' he said. He noted that sales usually go up around National Day celebrations and Chinese New Year when people seek flowering plants for decoration or symbolism. 'It depends on the season. Some people want something striking. 'Others just want a plant that won't die easily,' he said. Among the varieties seeing demand are the Confederate Rose, Rose of Sharon and Hardy Hibiscus. USM botanist Dr Farah Alia Nordin said the hibiscus rosa-sinensis – the bunga raya – is a cultivated tropical hibiscus in the Malvaceae family, believed to have originated from hybridisation efforts by Polynesians in the western Pacific long before European exploration. 'The hybrid was later introduced globally and is now widely cultivated in tropical and subtropical regions, including Malaysia,' she said. Farah Alia said the plant likely reached the Malay Peninsula in the 12th century, possibly from China, where it was valued as an ornamental. In 1958, it was nominated as the national flower, alongside contenders like ylang-ylang, jasmine, lotus, rose and magnolia. It was officially declared the national flower on July 28, 1960, by then Prime Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra Al-Haj. The word 'bunga' means flower while 'raya' means celebratory or grand, making it a symbol of unity and joy in a multicultural nation. Farah Alia said the flower is also associated with Haiti, where it is considered an unofficial national symbol. 'In ethnobotany, the bunga raya has been used for various treatments. 'It's also considered a symbol of beauty in places like Hawaii and occasionally used in food,' she said. Last year, Penang initiated a statewide hibiscus-planting campaign in an effort to enhance awareness of the flower's significance. State housing and environment committee chairman Datuk Seri S. Sundarajoo said 7,752 hibiscus plants were grown. This exceeded the target of 6,000 plants, he said.
