Local Food Only At Govt Events It S Not That Simple Mr Pm

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 Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim’s recent directive for all government departments to stop using imported goods - particularly food - at official events has stirred a timely conversation about national pride, economic empowerment, and food sovereignty.
On the surface, it’s a commendable move. Supporting local farmers and homegrown products is not just patriotic; it is also an essential strategy for building a more self-reliant economy.
But is the implementation of such a sweeping directive as straightforward as it sounds?
The devil is in the ingredients
Malaysia’s culinary landscape is a beautiful, complex fusion of flavours, often made possible by ingredients that are not always locally produced or available.
From the butter in our pastries to the lentils in our dhal curry, and the spices that define our curries - some of these are imported simply because we do not produce them in sufficient quantity or quality - or not at all.
Take, for example, the humble roti canai - a beloved national staple. The pastry is made from wheat flour, yet Malaysia does not grow wheat. Suddenly, one of our most iconic and cherished dishes becomes, by definition, "imported food".
But then roti canai is rarely eaten on its own. It is almost always accompanied by a hearty serving of paruppu sambar (dhal curry). And here’s the catch: the best paruppu sambar draws its rich, nutty flavour from Malabari dhal, imported from the Kerala region of India.
In fact, all dhals consumed in Malaysia are imported, primarily from India, Australia, and Canada.
So, under the Prime Minister’s directive, would the presence of imported dhal at a government function render the dish non-compliant? Does roti canai still qualify as a "local" dish when its key ingredient — wheat flour — is imported, and when the accompanying dhal is almost always sourced from abroad?
These questions highlight the operational and cultural complexities of the directive.
It’s not about where it’s from - it’s about who it supports?
At its heart, the prime minister’s intention is to boost the local economy. But local does not necessarily mean purely Malaysian-grown. Sometimes, using imported ingredients sustains local businesses.
A neighbourhood bakery may rely on New Zealand butter, but it still employs local workers, pays local taxes, and contributes to the domestic economy.
Perhaps what we should focus on is the local value chain - who grows, who processes, who sells, and who benefits. If a product, even with some imported content, supports Malaysian farmers, entrepreneurs, and small businesses, is that not equally worthy of government support?
Learning from our neighbours, but adapting wisely
Anwar cited Laos, Vietnam, and Thailand as countries where local food is automatically served at government events. But those countries also have different agricultural profiles and dietary habits.
Thailand, for example, is one of the world’s largest producers of rice, fruits, and seafood — they have the natural capacity to sustain many of their food needs.
Malaysia, by contrast, is a major food importer, and this is not necessarily a sign of failure. It’s part of being a trade-dependent, open economy. While we should strive to reduce dependency, we must also recognise our agricultural limitations and consumer expectations.
Call for clearer guidelines and pragmatism
The prime minister’s call deserves support, but it needs clearer operational guidelines. Will there be a certification system? Will caterers be penalised for minor infractions? Will there be support to ramp up local research on how to grow lentils in Malaysia?
More importantly, this cannot be a top-down directive alone. Farmers, food producers, importers, and even chefs must be part of the conversation.
Otherwise, we risk creating an environment of confusion, tokenism, or worse - window dressing where local food is served in name, but not in spirit.
Laudable directive
The spirit of Anwar’s directive is laudable. But Malaysia’s food story is not a binary tale of local versus imported. It is a complex, evolving narrative shaped by climate, trade, culture, and history.
Supporting local farmers must go beyond what we serve at official luncheons. It must include robust agricultural policies, incentives for young farmers, infrastructure development, and sustainable supply chain improvements.
In the end, what truly matters is not where the food comes from - but whether the hands that prepared it, transported it, and sold it have a stake in our local economy.
In a similar streak
Malaysia may project an image of food security, but the deeper issue lies in the nutritional quality of what we consume. The proposed sales and service tax (SST) on so-called "affluent foods" like avocados, salmon, and cod risks denying ordinary Malaysians access to essential nutrients.
These foods are not indulgences - they are vital for health.
Salmon is one of the few accessible dietary sources of Omega-3 fatty acids, which are crucial for cardiovascular health. Avocados provide oleic acid, known for reducing inflammation and supporting heart function.
Cod is a lean protein rich in essential vitamins. These are not luxury items - they are investments in long-term well-being.
Ironically, many of our local seafood options are now increasingly contaminated with microplastics, a worrying byproduct of our environmental neglect. Are we now saying that the less privileged should settle for food that is potentially unsafe or nutritionally inferior simply because it’s "local"?
Instead of imposing taxes that risk widening health disparities, the government should first address internal leakages and inefficiencies.
For example, public funds continue to be squandered on unnecessary overseas trips and premium-class air travel for civil servants - luxuries that even leaders in high-income nations have begun to abandon.
We can realise significant savings through cost-cutting and good governance without transferring the financial burden to the people.
Nutrition must be treated as a public health right, not a privilege reserved for the wealthy. - Mkini
JOSEPH MASILAMANY is a veteran journalist and storyteller with a deep interest in social justice, interfaith dialogue, and everyday human struggles. With decades of experience covering national affairs, culture, and public policy, he often explores the unintended consequences of well-meaning government initiatives and the nuanced realities behind Malaysia's diverse society.
The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of MMKtT.

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