In medical school, we were taught that every decision must be evidence-based. We gather data, analyse the risks and benefits, and implement actions backed by research. As a junior doctor in Malaysia, I learned that experience and expertise are prerequisites to making critical decisions in medicine because lives are at stake.
But as the Covid-19 pandemic unfolded, I witnessed something troubling: this same principle did not seem to apply to public health policymaking.
The pandemic was a test of leadership, exposing both the strengths and flaws of our health care system. It also highlighted, on a national scale, how deeply public health and public policy are intertwined. When guided by evidence, policies save lives. But when compromised by politics, they lead to disaster.
Nowhere was this more apparent than in the fallout of the 2020 Sabah state election, an event that turned a health crisis into a nationwide catastrophe.
The Crisis That Should Never Have Happened
In the early days of the pandemic, Malaysia’s response was commendable. The Movement Control Order (MCO) was swiftly implemented, personal protective equipment (PPE) was supplied, and daily press briefings ensured transparency and public trust. These efforts were widely praised, and Malaysia was regarded as one of the best in the world at managing Covid-19.
But when politics got involved, public health took a back seat.
The Sabah state election was not just an unfortunate event during a pandemic—it was a direct consequence of political manoeuvring. The crisis began when several irresponsible state assembly members defected from the ruling Warisan-led government, triggering a power struggle that led to the dissolution of the state assembly. With such high political stakes, fresh elections were called, setting the stage for weeks of intense campaigning.
The result? A flood of political operatives, campaigners, and supporters traveling from the peninsula and Sarawak into Sabah, with many of them paying little heed to public health warnings.
Political rallies were held in full force, with minimal adherence to mask-wearing, social distancing, or self-quarantine. Despite clear violations of health standard operating procedures (SOPs), no public action was taken against politicians or campaign teams.
The decision to allow the 2020 Sabah state election to proceed amid an ongoing pandemic was a grave miscalculation.
A study later confirmed that the Sabah state election triggered Malaysia’s third wave of Covid-19. Before the election, Malaysia reported just 16 daily cases. Seventeen days after polling, cases had skyrocketed to 190 per day, over 80 per cent of which were in Sabah.
The study found that while Sabah initially had high compliance with mask-wearing and distancing, the influx of campaign-related gatherings, interstate travel, and delays in containment efforts caused cases to surge.
The fallout was undeniable.
Politicians, including ministers, tested positive for Covid-19. Frontline health care workers, already stretched thin, fell ill. In Sabah, the health care system was pushed beyond its limits. Within weeks, the Ministry of Health (MOH) had to issue an urgent call for volunteer medical personnel to help manage the crisis.
I was one of those who answered that call.
From October to December 2020, I left my comfort zone in Johor to serve on the ground in Sabah, witnessing firsthand the human cost of poor policymaking. Hospitals were overflowing, quarantine centres were understaffed, and health care workers were running on empty.
One night, at the Tuaran Covid-19 Quarantine and Treatment Centre (PKRC), a patient broke down. She had been quarantined away from her family for too long and was terrified. Who would care for her elderly parents? Who would feed her children? How would she survive financially after weeks at the PKRC?
That moment crystallised my frustration—not with medicine, but with the policies that led us here.
Public health is not just about controlling infections. It is about protecting people’s livelihoods, families, and well-being. It was heartbreaking to see patients not only battling the virus, but also struggling under the weight of economic and social burdens — burdens that could have been mitigated with better policies.
That was the moment I realised medicine alone was not enough.
A New Calling: Public Health And Policy
I entered the medical field believing that science, research, and evidence-based decision-making would always prevail. The pandemic proved otherwise. Science can guide decisions, but policymakers determine whether those decisions are implemented. And when political considerations override public health recommendations, it is the rakyat who pay the price.
It was this realisation that led me to pivot toward public health. I knew that to create meaningful change, I needed to work at the intersection of medicine and policy.
That meant pursuing further studies in public health, with the long-term goal of obtaining a Master’s degree—equipping myself with the knowledge and expertise to contribute beyond the hospital walls.
I also became actively involved in advocacy. I worked with the Malaysian Health Coalition (MHC) and the Malaysian Medical Association (MMA), knowing that doctors must not only treat illnesses but also have a voice in shaping the policies that govern our health care system. When medical professionals and policymakers work together, we stand a stronger chance of driving real, lasting change.
But change is not easy.
Stepping Into The Arena
It would have been far simpler to stay in the medical field by progressing through the ranks, specialising, and building a stable career. But after what I witnessed during the pandemic, I knew I could not stand by as a passive observer. If I wanted better policies, I had to be part of the process.
That is why, when the Deputy Minister of Communications offered me the opportunity to serve as her Special Functions Officer, I did not hesitate to accept.
Some might ask: Why move from health care into a policy role within the Communications Ministry? The answer is simple — because health policy does not exist in a vacuum.
During the pandemic, I saw firsthand how misinformation and poor communication led to fear, vaccine hesitancy, and dangerous choices.
The public health system is not just about hospitals; it is also about ensuring that accurate, science-backed information reaches people in a way they trust. That is why I took on this role: to bridge the gap between health policy and public communication.
Malaysia needs better, stronger, and more transparent health policies. We need policies that are evidence-based, not political expediency. And to achieve that, we need leaders who understand both medicine and governance.
I may not wear a white coat every day, but my purpose remains unchanged: to heal — not just individual patients, but a system that needs fixing.
A Greater Malaysia For All
The Covid-19 pandemic was a turning point for many of us. It exposed the cracks in our system, but it also provided an opportunity to build something better.
I made the decision to step out of the hospital and into the murky waters of policy and politics not because it was easy, but because it was necessary. Because I believe good governance, driven by evidence and compassion, can make a difference. Because I want to see a Malaysia where public health is not an afterthought, but a priority.
And because if the past few years have taught us anything, it is that the cost of getting policy wrong is far too high.
We can, should, and must do better.
Dr Sean Thum is currently Special Functions Officer to the Deputy Minister of Communications. During the Covid-19 pandemic, he served as a doctor under the Ministry of Health, including as a volunteer medical personnel in Sabah from October to December 2020.
This article is part of a special CodeBlue series marking the fifth anniversary of the World Health Organization declaring Covid-19 as a global pandemic on March 11, 2020.
- This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of CodeBlue.
