Contradictheory: One app to rule us all?

MyGov is supposed to be the 'super app' that finally brings order to Malaysia’s digital chaos but registration is slow as people wonder about the security of their data. — 123rf

When I last visited the Road Transport Department, I didn’t have to join a long queue to talk to a person at the counter. Progress! Instead, I was told to get a queue number. The only problem was, to do so, I needed to download an app. 

The JPJeQ app has more than a million downloads on Android, which makes sense because if you want to renew your road tax in person without spending half the day there, you pretty much have no choice. But scroll through the reviews and you’ll see many complaints saying that the app crashes too often.

One comment suggesting an improvement caught my eye: include the queue app in the MyJPJ app. Imagine that: fewer apps, fewer headaches. What a radical idea.

The irony, of course, is that the government has been touting exactly that. Launched in August 2025, MyGov is supposed to be the “super app” that finally brings order to Malaysia’s digital chaos. Imagine it: one app to access your MyKad details, driving licence, passport status, health appointments, exam results, with the promise of much, much more.

Given that it’s still in beta, it shouldn’t be surprising it’s more a super-app-in-progress. Many services are still labelled “akan datang (coming soon)", with no indication what the dividing lines between “soon”, “a while”, and “much later” are. While my driving licence appears nicely online, other Road Transport Department services are nowhere to be see, let alone JPJeQ integration.

Other countries have shown us the way forward. Singapore has Singpass, a single login for government services adopted by about 97% of eligible residents. Even Sarawak’s own SarawakID predates the federal government’s MyDigital ID initiative.

Singapore also has a “fill from MyInfo” feature which pulls verified data directly to auto populate forms so the user doesn’t have to re-enter the same information. Meanwhile, Estonia – a surprising global leader in digitalisation that has put all of its government services online, including applying for a divorce – has X-Road, a data-exchange layer that lets ministries talk to each other seamlessly.

So the technology exists, almost off the shelf and ready to go. But the real bottleneck isn’t the tech but the people, processes, and policies. The World Bank has previously estimated that only 20% of digital government projects can be deemed successful, and from personal experience, a large part of it is underestimating what needs to be done beyond software installation.

For a recent Malaysian example, look to the Central Database Hub (Padu), a national socioeconomic database designed to deliver targeted subsidies and improve policymaking. On paper, it’s brilliant: Instead of applying for aid multiple times and filling out the same forms, the government can cross-reference your income, and household and employment data to automatically decide what you qualify for.

In reality, the rollout was marred by the dreaded-yet-unsurprising message of “Site not working”. The glitches were soon overshadowed by more serious concerns as citizens highlighted Malaysia’s long and embarrassing history of data leaks, from MyKad breaches to telco customer lists floating around online. In 2023, Malaysia was ranked the eighth most breached country in the world, with nearly half a million accounts compromised (“Cybersecurity report ranks Malaysia as eighth most breached country in Q3 2023”).

And then came Sarawak’s bombshell. The state government announced it would suspend participation, with Tourism Minister Abdul Karim Rahman Hamzah saying that “registering with Padu was akin to exposing all of one’s personal details, including bank accounts and investments” (“Too much personal info needed for Padu registration, says Sarawak minister”). The objection wasn’t just about reliability, but overreach. Padu was asking for bank account details, property records, and more, but it wasn’t clear how exactly the data was to be used, when, and how.

The result? The negative press caused registrations to tail off. The original target was 22 million adults. By the deadline in March 2024, barely 11.5 million adults had signed up.

It should not be surprising that fear of what might go wrong turns people off from using government e-services. A University of Queensland study on e-government usage in Malaysia found that perceived risk was one of the strongest predictors of whether Malaysians actually used online services. Citizens who thought it was risky to pay or transmit sensitive information online were roughly half as likely to use tax e-filing payments or property tax e-payment.

Singapore’s Iseas-Yusof Ishak Institute (formerly the Institute of South-East Asian Studies) wrote a paper about the rollout of Padu along with what could be done to improve future rollouts. The authors suggested third-party technology audits, including security and data management. But beyond that, they also said there was a need for an independent oversight body responsible for monitoring the data collection, usage, and storage processes – and I would add, greater transparency – in the event of data breaches. 

Rather ironically, Malaysia already has a law that almost covers this. The Personal Data Protection Act (PDPA) has provisions that came into force in June 2025 for a “Data Protection Officer” along with data breach notification guidelines.

But I say “almost covers” because the PDPA in its current form specifically excludes government ministries and agencies. It’s really just a simple change that’s needed, but one that would go a long way towards building trust between the government and the rakyat.

Will anything change, and when? The government says that Padu will be used to determine the criteria and eligibility of RON95 petrol subsidy recipients, so we hope it’s sooner rather than later, since there is likely to be another round of dodging “site not working” messages, and crossing your fingers that your data isn’t leaked.

Meanwhile, it’s a question I can ponder next time I’m in line at a government office, waiting for my phone to tell me when it’s my turn.

In his fortnightly column Contradictheory, mathematician-turned-scriptwriter Dzof Azmi explores the theory that logic is the antithesis of emotion but people need both to make sense of life’s vagaries and contradictions. Write to Dzof at [e-mail]. The views expressed here are entirely the writer's own.