By Remy Majangkim
KOTA KINABALU: On paper, the Allied Health Professions Act 2016 (Act 774) reads like a triumph for public safety.
It promises to regulate healthcare, streamline medical protocols, and ensure that those protecting public health are highly qualified. But beneath the polished federal language lies a ticking regulatory time bomb set to detonate on December 31, 2026.
For the licensed Pest Control Operators (PCOs) of Sabah, this well-meaning piece of legislation is not a shield—it is an economic execution order.
By requiring every pest control operation to hire a resident, degree-holding Public Health Entomologist, the Malaysian Allied Health Professions Council (MAHPC) has created an impossible double-standard.
Their recent refusal to consider regional feedback during stakeholder briefings shows a dangerous disregard for local realities. It is a classic “one-size-fits-all” federal mandate that completely ignores the socio-economic reality of East Malaysia, threatening to wipe out local Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs) and hand the keys of the industry to wealthy West Malaysian conglomerates.
The Historical Gulf
To understand why this mandate is so destructive, one must look at the calendar. The structured, licensed pest control industry in Peninsular Malaysia has matured over half a century. In contrast, Sabah’s formal industry only took root in the early 1990s. We are structurally and economically 15 to 20 years behind.
The most glaring flaw in Act 774 is a matter of basic mathematics: there is no local talent pool of degree-holding Public Health Entomologists in Sabah.
Forcing local SMEs to employ a resident specialist who simply does not exist in the regional workforce creates an artificial compliance vacuum. Local companies cannot buy compliance when the resource itself is not on the market.
An Assault on Livelihood and Equity
If enforced blindly by next year, the economic fallout will be swift and devastating.
Unable to absorb the immense financial overhead of a full-time university graduate—or compete for the microscopic pool of available talent—Sabah’s homegrown businesses will face two grim choices: close their doors permanently, or allow themselves to be aggressively absorbed by multinational corporations and massive Peninsular conglomerates.
This is not just bad economic policy; it borders on an infringement of constitutional rights.
Under Article 5(1) of the Federal Constitution, every Malaysian is guaranteed the right to life—a right that the apex courts have repeatedly ruled includes the fundamental right to earn a livelihood. By erecting an unachievable, mathematically impossible barrier, the government is executing a constructive deprivation of trade for Sabahan citizens.
Furthermore, Article 8(1) guarantees equality before the law. But true equality demands equity—treating unequals unequally. To treat a developing, geographically isolated market like Sabah identically to a hyper-mature urban hub like Kuala Lumpur is a profound distortion of justice.
The Constitutional Clash: Overriding Local Sovereignty
What transforms this impending crisis from a financial grievance into a profound constitutional debate is the direct encroachment on Sabah’s state autonomy. Under the Ninth Schedule of the Federal Constitution, public health sits on the Concurrent List (List III, Item 7). This dictates that both Parliament and the State Legislative Assembly share the authority to govern public health and sanitation.
Sabah operationalized its shared power through the Sabah Public Health Ordinance 1960, vesting the absolute operational authority to manage local vector control and sanitation in its local municipal councils. When a federal body implements a rule that renders local, state-licensed operators illegal, it directly disrupts this constitutional equilibrium.
Furthermore, Local Government is strictly a State Matter under List II (the State List), Item 4. The Federal Constitution explicitly bars the Federal Government from interfering with the functional execution of local authorities.
Sabah’s local councils—such as City Halls and Municipal Councils—rely heavily on registered private PCOs to carry out essential public health duties, including dengue vector control and commercial pre-requisite licensing.
By enforcing an unachievable mandate that threatens to close local PCOs by next year, Act 774 indirectly paralyzes the ability of Sabah’s local authorities to execute their statutory duties under the 1960 Ordinance. This creates an unconstitutional restriction on local governance, violating the regional equity and administrative autonomy guaranteed under the framework of the Malaysia Agreement 1963 (MA63).
The Redundancy of “Double Licensing”
What makes this situation so frustrating is that the industry is already strictly regulated. Under the Pesticides Act 1974 (Act 149), operators must pass rigorous examinations administered by the Department of Agriculture’s Pesticides Board to earn their Pesticide Applicator License (PAL) and Assistant Pesticide Applicator License (APAL).
These individuals—including my own operation under license PAL0531—are already government-certified experts in handling hazardous chemicals and mitigating public health vectors safely. Act 774 does not add safety; it adds bureaucracy. It imposes an expensive layer of “double licensing” that invalidates years of proven field competency and state-backed legal recognition.
A Call for Pragmatism
No one is arguing against high standards. What Sabah’s PCOs are begging for is basic pragmatism before the December 2026 cliff edge arrives.
The solution does not require tearing up the Act, but it does require common sense compromises:
A Blanket Endorsement: Grant immediate competency recognition to established operators who already hold valid, hard-earned PAL and APAL certifications.
The Training Alternative: For newer companies with less than five years of experience, replace the degree-holder requirement with a mandatory, localized specialized seminar or refresher course designed alongside the Department of Agriculture.
The Ministry of Health and the MAHPC’s current “no compromise” stance is a bureaucratic line in the sand that ignores economic survival. If federal authorities continue to stonewall local operators, the cost will be measured in the destruction of Sabah’s local economy and the subversion of its constitutional rights.
True governance protects both public health and the citizens who build the economy. The clock is running out, and Sabah cannot afford to stay silent.
