Why Sabah and Sarawak’s 35% Demand Is Law, Not Politics?
By Remy Majangkim (Majangkim Office) Inspire by Ratatouille Pixar
Epigraph
“This Constitution is the supreme law of the Federation.”
— Article 4(1), Federal Constitution of Malaysia
“No amendment affecting the special position of Sabah and Sarawak shall be passed without the concurrence of the Yang di-Pertua Negeri.”
— Article 161E, Federal Constitution of Malaysia
“Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.”
— Anton Ego, Ratatouille (2007)
Introduction: The Stove Is On
Let us be clear from the outset: No one stands above the Federal Constitution—not the Prime Minister, not the Law Minister, not any law lecturer, and certainly not Parliament itself. Article 4(1) declares:
“This Constitution is the supreme law of the Federation.”
This is the bedrock of our Constitutional Monarchy. Every argument about parliamentary seats, every statement about Sabah and Sarawak’s status, must be measured against this supreme law—not against political convenience, and not against selective readings that forget what the Constitution remembers.
Yet in recent weeks, we have witnessed a parade of selective memory: a Law Minister urging “careful study” while her Prime Minister had already agreed in principle; a law lecturer insisting Sabah and Sarawak are “just states” while ignoring Article 161E; a former Speaker declaring the one-third demand “a political narrative” while dismissing the original arithmetic of our own founding.
Let us set the record straight.
Like a well-cooked meal, a constitutional argument requires fresh ingredients, careful preparation, respect for the reader, and love. Without love, you might as well eat alone.
I love Ratatouille. And I can cook too.
The Four Pillars of Our Constitutional Monarchy
Malaysia is a Constitutional Monarchy. To understand the debate over parliamentary seats, we must first understand the constitutional architecture within which all actors operate.
The great Victorian constitutional thinker Walter Bagehot, in his classic work The English Constitution (1867), observed that every successful constitution must have two essential elements:
“There are two great objects which every constitution must attain to be successful… every constitution must first gain authority and then use authority; it must first win the loyalty and confidence of mankind and then employ that homage in the work of government.”
Bagehot called these the dignified and efficient parts of the constitution. The dignified parts “excite and preserve the reverence of the population,” while the efficient parts are those by which the government “works and rules.”
In Malaysia, we have adapted this framework into four distinct pillars:
The Yang di-Pertuan Agong {The Dignified) – Symbolic unity, guardian of customs, final ceremonial authority
The Prime Minister and Cabinet (The Efficient) – Day-to-day governance, policymaking, administration
The Judiciary (The Final Word) – Constitutional interpretation, arbiter of disputes
The People (The Invisible) – Source of legitimacy, sovereign will, ultimate constituents
As Bagehot understood, the monarch “merely symbolises the unity of the national community.” The actual work of governing falls to the efficient pillar—but always within the bounds set by the Constitution. And when the efficient pillar oversteps, the judiciary has the final word. When the people are forgotten, the invisible pillar must make itself seen.
What the Constitution Actually Says
Sabah and Sarawak are listed as states in Article 1(2). That is true. But the Constitution does not stop there. It contains an entire Part (Part XIIA) devoted to “Additional Protections for the Borneo States.”
Article 161E is the most important:
“No amendment affecting the special position of Sabah and Sarawak shall be passed without the concurrence of the Yang di-Pertua Negeri.”
This is not a request for consultation. It is a constitutional veto—a protection no Peninsular state possesses. It exists because Sabah and Sarawak were not ordinary states. They were founding partners.
On 9 July 1963, five parties signed the Malaysia Agreement: the United Kingdom, the Federation of Malaya, North Borneo (Sabah), Sarawak, and Singapore. This was an international agreement, registered with the United Nations (No. 10760). Sabah and Sarawak did not join Malaya—they formed Malaysia together with Malaya.
The Constitution remembers this, even if some have forgotten. The recipe is still there, written in Article 161E. You just have to read it.
The Arithmetic of Safeguard
When Malaysia was formed in 1963, the first Parliament had 159 seats distributed as follows:
Peninsular Malaya 104 65.4%
Singapore 15 9.4%
Sabah 16 10.1%
Sarawak 24 15.1%
Sabah + Sarawak + Singapore 55 34.6%
This was deliberate. Together, the three new territories held more than one-third of Parliament—enough to block constitutional amendments, which require a two-thirds majority. As Sarawak Minister Datuk Seri Abdul Karim Rahman Hamzah has explained, this was the original safeguard built into the Federation’s design.
When Singapore left in 1965, its 15 seats should have been redistributed to Sabah and Sarawak to maintain the safeguard. Instead, they were absorbed by the peninsula. Over 60 years of redelineation, Sabah and Sarawak’s share was further diluted. Today, out of 222 parliamentary seats:
Peninsular Malaysia 166 74.8%
Sabah 25 11.3%
Sarawak 31 13.9%
Total East Malaysia 56 25.2%
The safeguard is gone. Peninsular Malaysia alone holds more than two-thirds of Parliament. It can amend the Constitution without a single vote from Sabah or Sarawak.
In 2022, the MA63 Special Council—chaired by the Prime Minister and including the Chief Ministers of Sabah and Sarawak—endorsed restoring the 35% ratio. This was not a political demand. It was a constitutional commitment, affirmed by the very body tasked with implementing MA63.
The ingredients have always been there. Someone just needs to cook.
A Proper Rebuttal: To the Law Lecturer Who Forgot to Read Further?
On March 8, 2026, Multimedia University law lecturer Encik Hafiz Hassan argued that Sabah and Sarawak are “equal to other states in Malaysia.” He pointed to Article 1(2) of the Federal Constitution, which lists them as states. He quoted the Malaysia Agreement 1963, noting that Sabah and Sarawak were “federated with the existing States of the Federation of Malaya.”
He then concluded: Sabah and Sarawak entered as states; therefore, they are just states, equal to all others.
With respect, the lecturer is correct—as far as he goes. But he does not go far enough. He stops reading at exactly the point where the special protections begin.
Attached to MA63 was the Malaysia Bill—the constitutional instrument that became our Federal Constitution. It did not simply copy the Malayan Constitution. It added entire new sections specifically for Sabah and Sarawak.
Let us list what the lecturer omitted:
Provision: What It Does
Article 161E requires Sabah/Sarawak consent for certain constitutional amendments.
Article 95D: Federal laws on land and local government do not apply unless adopted by Sabah/Sarawak assemblies.
Articles 112C & 112D Special financial arrangements and revenue retention
Article 161: Protection of native languages and customs
Article 161A Definition of “native” for Borneo states
Article 161H: Special position in public service
If Sabah and Sarawak are “equal to other states”, why does the Constitution contain an entire part (Part XIIA) devoted to “Additional Protections for Borneo States”? Why does Article 161E exist at all?
The lecturer’s error is not in what he says—it is in what he leaves out. He remembers Article 1(2). He forgets Article 161E. He quotes the Malaysia Agreement’s first article but ignores the constitutional instrument attached to it. This is not constitutional interpretation. It is constitutional cherry-picking.
Imagine a chef who reads only the first line of a recipe—”Take five eggs”—and then serves you raw eggs on a plate, declaring the dish complete. The lecturer has served us raw eggs and called it dinner.
The people of Sabah and Sarawak did not simply become “state residents” in 1963. They were citizens of territories that contracted into a new federation. Their distinct history, their native customs, and their languages—all protected by Articles 161–161H—reflect that their relationship to the Federation is not identical to that of Penang or Perak.
When the lecturer says they are “equal to other states”, he flattens what the Constitution itself treats as distinct. He forgets that some recipes require special ingredients.
The Current Debate: Who Else Forgot?
The Prime Minister agreed in principle on November 16, 2025, to add seats for Sabah and Sarawak. This was not a personal promise—it was a recognition of what the Constitution already requires.
The Law Minister on March 3, 2026, called for “careful study” due to “implications for other states.” But Article 161E does not require study. It requires consent. The efficient pillar must not confuse caution with constitutional delay. In the kitchen, hesitation burns the dish.
The former Speaker dismissed the 35% claim as a “political narrative”. He forgot that parliamentary committees and the MA63 council had already endorsed it. The maths is not a narrative. It is public record. You cannot dismiss the recipe by insulting the cook.
Peninsular MPs on March 9, 2026, called for breaking up oversized seats like Tebrau (223,000 voters) and Bangi (300,000 voters). They are right. Constituencies that large cannot be served effectively. Their claim flows from Article 113 and the principle of fair representation.
But here is what they must understand: The Sabah and Sarawak demand is not about voter ratios. It is about constitutional status.
The Peninsular claim is about service delivery.
The Borneo claim is about constitutional consent.
These are parallel tracks, not competing claims. A mature federation can—and must—do both. The two-track solution is simple: restore Sabah and Sarawak’s 35% share through the MA63 process, while simultaneously redelineating oversized Peninsular seats under Article 113.
Think of it as two dishes from the same kitchen. One honours the founding recipe. The other ensures every guest is fed. Neither should burn while the other is prepared.
The Invisible Pillar Speaks
Throughout this debate, the dignified pillar—the Agong—watches in silence, a symbol of our unity. He has, as Bagehot wrote, “the right to be consulted, the right to encourage, and the right to warn.”
The judiciary waits to have the final word if needed. If the efficient pillar refuses to honour Article 161E, the courts stand ready to declare what the Constitution requires.
And the invisible pillar—the people—is speaking.
The people of Sabah and Sarawak are saying: We were here in 1963. We signed the agreement. Our consent matters. Do not render us invisible again.
The people of Tebrau and Bangi are saying, ‘We deserve MPs who can serve us.’ Redraw the maps.
Both voices are legitimate. Both deserve to be heard.
Conclusion: The Constitution Remembers
For decades, Sabah and Sarawak were sent into the federal lions’ den dressed in promises—told they were equal while outnumbered, assured of protections while amendments passed without their consent. Article 161E was meant to be their shield.
But shields only work if they are raised.
The efficient pillar—ministers and executives—must not confuse “careful study” with constitutional delay. Bagehot taught us that the efficient exists to serve, not to obstruct.
The academic pillar—lecturers and commentators—must read the Constitution as a whole, not in fragments convenient to their argument. Selective reading is not scholarship. It is not even good cooking.
The former Speakers—who once presided over the people’s house—must not dismiss as “narrative” what committees and councils have already endorsed.
The Peninsular MPs—fighting for their own constituents—must not, in their struggle, forget that Borneo’s people rest on a different constitutional foundation.
The Constitution does not forget. It does not do selective memory. Article 4 stands above every minister, every lecturer, every speaker. And Article 161E still requires consent.
Ratatouille taught us something true: that a great artist can come from anywhere. A great argument can too. It does not need the efficient pillar’s approval. It does not need the dignified pillar’s blessing. It needs only to be true and to be presented with care.
Like a well-cooked meal, a constitutional argument requires the same things:
Fresh ingredients—not stale assumptions, but the living text of Articles 161E and 4(1)
Careful preparation—sourcing every claim, dating every statement, naming every actor
Respect for the reader—serving something nourishing, not confusing
Love—because without it, you might as well eat alone.
The dignified pillar watches.
The judiciary waits.
The invisible pillar—the people, the cooks, the ones who remember—will not be silenced.
The Constitution remembers. The question is: will we?
Will we honour the five signatures on that London document?
Will we restore the safeguard that Singapore’s exit should never have erased?
Will we see the invisible pillar at last?
The answer lies not in Parliament alone, nor in the courts alone, but in every citizen who refuses to let the Constitution be read in fragments.
The lambs have found their voice.
The lions must learn to listen.
And if you have seen the film Ratatouille—really seen it—you know this truth:
The critic did not change because he was argued into submission. He changed because he tasted something he had forgotten.
Our constitution is full of forgotten flavours. Article 161E is one of them.
Taste it again.
