THE Malaysian Chinese population has been shrinking steadily as a proportion of the country’s population, so no one should be surprised by the latest figures.
The figures become particularly stark when viewed over several decades. In 1970, Chinese Malaysians made up 34.1% of the population. By 2020, that proportion had fallen to 23.2%, and by 2024, it stood at 22.4% of the citizen population.
There is, however, an important distinction. The absolute number of Chinese Malaysians has not declined. Those numbers increased from approximately 3.6 million in 1970 to around 6.9 million in 2024.
It is their proportion of the overall population that has steadily diminished. We do not need experts to explain why. Much of the answer is visible around us.
Chinese Malaysians are generally marrying later, often in their late 20s or early 30s. Career advancement and financial stability tend to take priority, while the cost of raising children has become an increasingly important consideration.
For women, delaying marriage and motherhood can also affect the number of children they eventually have. The average Chinese family today is more likely to have one or two children, compared with larger families in previous generations. Malay families, on average, tend to be bigger, with marriages also generally taking place at a younger age.
There is another issue that deserves attention: the emigration of young Malaysians.
Many Chinese Malaysian families have children studying abroad, and some eventually decide to build their lives elsewhere. Australia, Britain, Singapore, Canada and even China have attracted Malaysians seeking education, employment and professional opportunities.
We should resist the temptation to blame young people for choosing to have fewer children. They are making decisions based on the realities of their lives, including financial pressures, career aspirations and changing expectations.
Part of the responsibility lies with governments, employers and society who need to create an environment in which starting and raising a family is less difficult.
The reality is that wealthier, highly urbanised and educated societies tend to experience lower fertility rates. This is happening not just in Malaysia but also in Singapore, Japan, Taiwan and Hong Kong.
Malaysia must therefore prepare for a future in which its population structure will look very different from what previous generations experienced.
For the Chinese Malaysian community, this means recognising that cultural continuity cannot be taken for granted. Language, traditions, schools, businesses, associations and community institutions all require the younger generation’s interest and participation if they are to survive.
There are also political implications.
The Indian community is no longer numerically predominant in any state or parliamentary constituency, and the same demographic reality could eventually affect Chinese Malaysians.
But we must not turn demographics into an ethnic competition. Instead, this should be approached with sensitivity. Malaysia must place greater emphasis on our shared identity as Malaysians rather than race and religion.
Politicians who continue to exploit racial and religious sentiments may eventually find that such narratives have diminishing returns. The Chinese community, too, can only be used as a political bogeyman to a certain extent.
Malaysia’s strength is not measured by whether one ethnic group increases or decreases its share of the population.
Its success should be measured by whether all communities can live together, contribute to the economy and enjoy dignity and equal opportunities. The demographic challenge should concern us all regardless of ethnicity.
Indeed, while Chinese fertility is particularly low, Malaysia’s overall fertility rate has also fallen below replacement level.
The country is heading towards being an ageing society, making this a national challenge rather than an exclusively Chinese one.
A demographic transition takes decades to unfold, and reversing it, if possible, takes even longer.
In his latest book, In the Realm of the Last Man, political scientist Francis Fukuyama has written about the global decline in birthrates, particularly in wealthier societies. He cites Italy, Spain, Japan, Singapore, Taiwan and South Korea, the last of which has a total fertility rate hovering below 0.8, far below the replacement level of about 2.1 children per woman.
He argues that female education and employment are among the fundamental drivers of declining fertility.
A stay-at-home mother, he observes, is essentially an uncompensated worker. As women’s incomes and employment opportunities rise, it makes economic sense for more women to enter the paid workforce, while childcare and other responsibilities increasingly have to be outsourced.
Having more children therefore involves significant opportunity costs and additional expenses, including childcare, housing and education.
In many wealthy societies, more young women are now receiving higher education than men, giving them stronger lifetime earnings prospects.
Consequently, some are putting off marriage and childbearing, while others are choosing not to have children at all.
The question is not whether Malaysia’s population will change. It already has.
The real question is whether we are prepared for the economic, social and cultural consequences of that change.
National Journalism Laureate Datuk Seri Wong Chun Wai is the chairman of Bernama. The views expressed here are solely the writer’s own.
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