At a busy junction on any morning in Malaysia, the scene is painfully familiar.
The traffic light turns red. Cars stop.
And then, almost on cue, a motorcycle slips through the junction, followed by another, and sometimes a car.
Pedestrians who have already stepped off the kerb hesitate and retreat.
No one shouts. No one honks.
But something else happens quietly in that moment: Trust erodes.
For millions of Malaysians, this is part of the daily commute.
Whether in Kuala Lumpur, Penang, Johor Baru or Alor Setar, the morning rush hour carries the same quiet tension.
Drivers watch the lights carefully, pedestrians hesitate at crossings, and everyone calculates whether the approaching driver will follow the rules.
What makes this routine troubling is not simply the disregard for traffic laws, but the knowledge of what it has cost.
Road accidents continue to claim thousands of lives every year.
Last year (2025) alone, more than 6,000 Malaysians lost their lives in road accidents – an average of about 18 people every day.
Nearly seven out of 10 road fatalities involve motorcyclists, many of them young people commuting to work or returning home.
Yet, the behaviour persists, as though these tragedies never happened.
Across suburban neighbourhoods, a similar erosion of care is visible.
Rubbish bags are left beside bins instead of inside them, torn open by stray animals and spilling waste across pavements.
Rivers that once ran clear are clogged with plastic bottles, food containers and remnants of weekend bazaars.
After community events, fields and playgrounds often remain scattered with cups, skewers and wrappers long after the crowds have gone.
Malaysia now produces more than 15 million tonnes of solid waste each year – a figure that continues to rise as cities expand and consumption grows.
Shaping daily life
What is striking is not that these things happen, but that they no longer surprise us.
A red light ignored. Rubbish tossed onto the roadside. Cars parked with little regard for others.
These behaviours have become so commonplace that they barely register.
Yet, over time, they quietly shape the emotional climate of everyday life.
Individually, each act may seem minor, but collectively, they accumulate until irritation becomes the background mood of daily living.
Over time, this quiet normalisation does more than inconvenience us.
It erodes the sense that we share responsibility for the spaces we inhabit and for one another.
When courtesy fades from everyday interactions, a low, but persistent, level of stress begins to build.
Roads feel more tense. Public spaces feel less cared for.
People move through their day expecting frustration rather than consideration.
In a very real sense, civic behaviour is not only about rules or etiquette; it is also about mental health.
Stressed by our surroundings
We often speak about mental health as though it exists only within the individual.
Yet, human beings are profoundly shaped by their surroundings.
When public spaces are orderly and predictable, people feel calmer.
When drivers signal, queue and give way, we feel respected.
When communities take pride in shared spaces, we experience a sense of belonging.
Conversely, beating a red light sends the message that “my convenience matters more than your safety”.
Throwing rubbish on the ground implies that someone else will clean up the mess.
These small acts chip away at trust, and tension quietly follows us through the day.
Psychologists have long observed that environments where rules are frequently ignored create stress because people must remain constantly alert.
When behaviour becomes unpredictable, individuals instinctively become more cautious and defensive.
Another psychological process is also at work.
When people repeatedly see rules ignored without consequence, they gradually stop believing that their own behaviour makes a difference.
Psychologists describe this as a form of “learned helplessness” in public spaces.
Individuals begin to think: “Why should I bother if no one else does?”
Over time, that mindset spreads. Behaviour that once seemed unacceptable slowly becomes normal.
Eventually, an uncomfortable feeling emerges.
Those who wait patiently at red lights, queue properly or carry their rubbish to the nearest bin begin to feel like the minority, while those who ignore the rules appear to move ahead more easily.
When a society reaches this point, the issue is no longer simply about individual manners.
It becomes a cultural signal about what behaviour is expected and what conduct will be tolerated.
The importance of Civics
Interestingly, many Malaysians appear to recognise this shift.
A recent public survey conducted by the Malaysian Mental Health Association, involving 506 respondents, offers a revealing glimpse into how people view civic behaviour and education today.
One of the clearest findings was that public awareness of the importance of civic education remains strong.
Many respondents remember that Civics, or Pendidikan Sivik, was once taught as a standalone subject in Malaysian schools, and many believe something important has been lost.
Most respondents felt that students today are not receiving sufficient civic education across several areas, including constitutional literacy, responsible social media use, civic responsibility, respectful dialogue, conflict resolution and respect for diversity.
In other words, the concern is not only about traffic behaviour or littering; it reflects a deeper worry about how civic values are learned and practised.
Support for strengthening civic education was overwhelming.
Most respondents said Civics should return as a dedicated subject, rather than being loosely integrated into other subjects where it risks being overlooked.
Just as striking were respondents’ views about its role in the nation’s future.
The vast majority rated civic education as “important” or “very important” for Malaysia’s long-term development.
Many also believed stronger civic education could help address wider social challenges, such as intolerance, misinformation and declining civic responsibility.
Taken together, these findings suggest that Malaysians do not view civic behaviour as trivial.
They see it as part of nation-building and social stability.
When courtesy appears optional
Many Malaysians who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s remember a different educational landscape.
Civic lessons – whether known as Civics, Tatarakyat or Moral Education – were once part of the weekly timetable, taught with the same seriousness as other core subjects.
Pupils learned how to queue, keep classrooms clean, respect elders, behave in public, care for national property and resolve disagreements respectfully.
Some schools even had civic duty rotations where students swept corridors, watered plants or arranged library books.
Teachers from that era often said they were not merely teaching academic subjects, but also teaching children how to live with one another.
Where did we go wrong?
Over time, academic achievement became the dominant measure of success.
Examination pressure intensified and civic education was gradually reduced, absorbed into other subjects or treated as something children would simply pick up naturally.
Civic sense is not inherited. It is taught, intentionally and repeatedly.
Modern life has also changed.
Parents work longer hours. Children spend more time online than outdoors. Neighbourhoods are less close-knit than they once were.
Without deliberate teaching and reinforcement, civic behaviour becomes optional.
And when something becomes optional, it gradually becomes rare.
The erosion is not only visible in homes and schools. It is also reflected in institutional signals.
Traffic offences, such as jumping a red light, often result in fines, yet these penalties are sometimes discounted during special campaigns.
Even when these offences do not involve injury or death, the pattern can send a troubling message.
When dangerous behaviour is met with penalties that may later be reduced, the boundary begins to feel negotiable.
Drivers may simply wait for the next discount campaign, rather than change their habits.
Over time, such mixed signals accumulate. They shape a culture where courtesy appears optional and shared spaces feel like someone else’s responsibility.
Rebuilding our civic sense
The late Royal Professor Ungku Abdul Aziz once wrote about the importance of “social discipline” – the idea that a nation’s progress depends not only on economic growth, but also on everyday behaviours rooted in mutual respect.
His reminder that a society is measured not by its wealth, but also by how its people treat one another remains deeply relevant today.
Malaysia is urbanising rapidly. Roads are busier, cities denser and public spaces more heavily used.
In such environments, civic behaviour is not a luxury; it is a necessity.
Reintroducing structured civic education is therefore not nostalgia. It is an investment in social resilience and collective well-being.
The survey findings reinforce this sentiment.
Many Malaysians believe civic learning should be given stronger institutional emphasis within the national education system, not merely as moral reminders, but as practical competencies for living together in a diverse society.
We need to teach and model that public spaces belong to all of us, that cleanliness reflects dignity, that safety is a shared responsibility, and that courtesy is a form of care.
These are not small lessons.
They are the foundations of a functioning society.
Public institutions also have a role to play.
When government offices, local councils and public services demonstrate courtesy, efficiency and order, the message travels further than any slogan.
Campaigns that appeal to dignity and shared pride, rather than scolding, are also more likely to inspire lasting change.
Over time, these small acts of consideration can transform public spaces.
Streets, offices and neighbourhoods begin to feel calmer, safer and less tense.
A mentally-healthy nation is not built only through healthcare systems or counselling services.
It is built through the small, everyday behaviours that make life more predictable, respectful and humane.
Che Puan Muda Zaheeda Mohamad Ariff is the Raja Puan Muda of Kedah, a trained lawyer and Royal Patron of the Malaysian Mental Health Association. For more information, email starhealth@thestar.com.my. The information provided is for educational and communication purposes only, and it should not be construed as personal medical advice. The Star does not give any warranty on accuracy, completeness, functionality, usefulness or other assurances as to the content appearing in this column. The Star disclaims all responsibility for any losses, damage to property or personal injury suffered directly or indirectly from reliance on such information.
