Special Report By Majangkim Office
SANDAKAN: The federal government’s application to stay the High Court’s order on Sabah’s revenue entitlement is not a mere procedural hiccup. It is a calculated assault on the Federal Constitution, a masterclass in administrative dysfunction, and—in the eyes of the people of Sabah—a profound act of betrayal.
To understand why this moment is so critical, one must dissect not only the legal arguments, but the conduct of the very minister appointed to safeguard Sabah’s interests.
Part I: The Constitutional Abdication
Let us be absolutely clear on the principle at stake. The special grant to Sabah under Articles 112C and 112D of the Federal Constitution is not a discretionary “grant” in the sense of federal goodwill or generosity. It is a constitutional obligation.
As our previous analysis has established, the Constitution uses mandatory language. It imposes a legal duty on the federal government to pay. It is a right, not a request.
The federal government’s application for a stay fundamentally misrepresents this reality. By seeking to suspend the implementation of the court’s order, it treats the payment as optional—contingent on the completion of its own administrative reviews and negotiations.
This flips constitutional supremacy on its head. The obligation to pay is not suspended because the federal government has failed to keep proper records for what it euphemistically calls “The Lost Years.” A constitutional debt is not voided by the debtor’s poor bookkeeping.
The High Court on October 17, 2025, did not make a suggestion. It issued an order: a joint review within 90 days, an agreement within 180 days.
That 180-day period ends on April 15, 2026. The government’s stay application is a last-ditch effort to avoid this deadline, not through negotiation, but through litigation.
Part II: The Incompetence That Exposes Disrespect
If the legal argument were the only issue, this would still be a grave matter. But the revelations of the past week have exposed a level of administrative chaos that borders on the deliberate.
On March 9, 2026, the Daily Express reported a stunning admission. The Minister in the Prime Minister’s Department (Sabah and Sarawak Affairs), Datuk Mustapha Sakmud, claimed he was “shocked” and “unaware” of the federal government’s own application to delay the 40% payment.
Let that sink in.
The man whose entire portfolio is dedicated to overseeing Sabah and Sarawak affairs—the man who should be the first briefed, the first consulted, the first to approve any move affecting Sabah’s constitutional rights—was kept in the dark. Likas Assemblyman Tham Yun Fook rightly questioned how such an important decision could be made without the knowledge of the responsible minister. Star President Datuk Seri Panglima Dr. Jeffrey G. Kitingan called it “unacceptable.”
This is not governance. This is not the behavior of a partner in a federation. This is a federal government making unilateral decisions in a silo, then sending out its own minister to explain and defend a move he did not authorize and, by his own admission, did not even know about.
What does this say about the “negotiation” process the minister himself has been publicly championing? When he speaks of sharing data and conducting detailed reviews, are we to believe he speaks with any authority? Or is he simply a messenger, reading a script written in Putrajaya, kept on a need-to-know basis, and deemed not to need to know about the most significant legal move against his own state?
The incompetence is staggering. But it is not merely incompetence. It is a structural disrespect. It proves that the “Sabah and Sarawak Affairs” ministry is a decorative title, a public relations front, utterly divorced from the real locus of power and decision-making.
The minister is a figurehead, and the federal government has just publicly sawed the head off.
Part III: The Verdict of the People—This Is Seen as Betrayal
This brings us to the most damning indictment of all. It is the sentiment that echoes not in courtrooms or press statements, but in the coffee shops, homes, and longhouses across Sabah.
The people of Sabah see this incompetence, and they do not excuse it. They see it as borderline traitorous.
When they look at Mustapha Sakmud, they do not see a minister who was unfortunately blindsided. They see a man who was strategically chosen. They see a local face, a Sabahan, appointed precisely because he could be trusted to do the federal government’s dirty work—to keep a straight face while his people’s rights are being dismantled.
Think of the role he has been forced to play.
The federal government makes a move to delay.
The minister is kept out of the loop.
The news breaks, and the minister expresses “shock.”
He is then sent out, with a straight face, to explain the delay, to ask for patience, to speak of “ongoing negotiations” and “data verification.”
This is not the performance of a defender. This is the performance of a shield—a human shield placed between the federal government’s actions and the full force of Sabahan anger.
Keeping a straight face while your people’s constitutional rights are slowly strangled by procedure and postponement is not diplomacy. In the eyes of countless Sabahans, it is complicity. It makes the betrayal feel intimate, because it comes from one of their own, who was sent to protect them, but instead is used to pacify them.
This transforms the issue. It is no longer just a dispute between Kuala Lumpur and Kota Kinabalu. It becomes a crisis of representation. It tells every Sabahan: even our own people, once placed in federal office, can be turned into instruments of our own delay.
Part IV: A System Designed for Sabah to Lose
When you combine these three elements—the constitutional violation, the administrative incompetence, and the popular verdict of betrayal—a clear picture emerges. This is not a series of unfortunate accidents. This is a system.
Step 1: The court orders payment, affirming a constitutional right.
Step 2: The federal government immediately appeals and seeks a stay, prioritizing procedure over principle.
Step 3: The minister responsible for Sabah is kept completely uninformed, ensuring he has no power to stop it.
Step 4: The minister is then deployed to the media, with a straight face, to explain the delay, to ask for trust, and to speak of “negotiations” that have already been undermined.
In this system, the federal government gets what it wants: time. The minister gets what he is given: a script. And the people of Sabah get what they have always gotten: promises, delays, and the spectacle of their own representative being thrown under the bus, while they are on the tracks right alongside him.
The Prime Minister’s office has not just thrown Mustapha Sakmud under the bus. They have used him to signal to Sabah that their rights are negotiable, their patience is infinite, and their representation is ornamental.
Conclusion: The Debt Must Be Paid
The federal government’s case for delay collapses under the weight of its own contradictions.
We are told we must wait because the data is complex. Yet, the minister responsible for overseeing this data was kept in the dark about the plan to delay—proving the process is neither transparent nor collaborative.
We are told this is about good-faith negotiation. Yet, the very first move after a court order was a legal maneuver to avoid the court’s timeline.
We are told the minister is our man in Putrajaya. Yet, he is revealed to be a man without a seat at the table, a messenger without authority, a defender without a weapon.
The people of Sabah are not blind. They see the incompetence. They see the disrespect. And they see the straight face of their own minister, and they render their verdict: this is a betrayal.
The 40% is not a grant to be debated at leisure. It is not a bargaining chip in federal-state relations. It is a constitutional debt. It is owed. It is overdue.
No amount of procedural games, ministerial “shock,” or straight-faced excuses will change that fundamental truth.
Pay what you owe. The patience of Sabah is not an unlimited resource to be exploited by federal gamesmanship. And the people of Sabah will remember, long after this stay application is decided, who stood with them and who was used against them.
