OPINION | From Watergate to Waterloo — and Now, Swinegate or BabiGate of Selangor?
23 Jan 2026 • 6:00 PM MYT
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Mihar Dias
A behaviourist by training, a consultant and executive coach by profession
Picture from Google Gemini's Image Generation (Nano Banana)
By Mihar Dias January 2026
History has an unkind habit of repeating itself, first as tragedy, then as farce, and finally as a cautionary footnote that leaders insist they have read but clearly have not absorbed.
When Richard Nixon authorised what would later be euphemistically called a “third-rate burglary” at the Watergate complex, he did not imagine it would end his presidency. It wasn’t the break-in that destroyed him, but the stubborn refusal to grasp the implications of arrogance colliding with accountability. Power, when convinced of its own cleverness, tends to underestimate how quickly public patience evaporates.
Go back a few centuries earlier and Napoleon’s Waterloo offers a different lesson. It was not one catastrophic mistake but a chain of smaller misjudgements—overconfidence, misreading allies, ignoring ground realities—that led to a defeat so complete it became shorthand for political annihilation. Waterloo was not merely a lost battle; it was the end of a myth. Between Watergate and Waterloo lie numerous scandals, including "CowGate" that share a common thread: leaders who mistook administrative convenience for moral licence, and who learned too late that legitimacy is not something one can bulldoze through with legal paperwork or numerical majorities.
Which brings us, uneasily, to Selangor.
The ongoing controversy surrounding pig farming, waste management, and environmental governance—now half-jokingly, half-menacingly referred to as “Swinegate” or "BabiGate"—is not merely about livestock, land use, or technical compliance. It has escalated precisely because it has breached a far more sensitive boundary: the public rebuke of an elected government by the Ruler himself.
By Mihar Dias January 2026
History has an unkind habit of repeating itself, first as tragedy, then as farce, and finally as a cautionary footnote that leaders insist they have read but clearly have not absorbed.
When Richard Nixon authorised what would later be euphemistically called a “third-rate burglary” at the Watergate complex, he did not imagine it would end his presidency. It wasn’t the break-in that destroyed him, but the stubborn refusal to grasp the implications of arrogance colliding with accountability. Power, when convinced of its own cleverness, tends to underestimate how quickly public patience evaporates.
Go back a few centuries earlier and Napoleon’s Waterloo offers a different lesson. It was not one catastrophic mistake but a chain of smaller misjudgements—overconfidence, misreading allies, ignoring ground realities—that led to a defeat so complete it became shorthand for political annihilation. Waterloo was not merely a lost battle; it was the end of a myth. Between Watergate and Waterloo lie numerous scandals, including "CowGate" that share a common thread: leaders who mistook administrative convenience for moral licence, and who learned too late that legitimacy is not something one can bulldoze through with legal paperwork or numerical majorities.
Which brings us, uneasily, to Selangor.
The ongoing controversy surrounding pig farming, waste management, and environmental governance—now half-jokingly, half-menacingly referred to as “Swinegate” or "BabiGate"—is not merely about livestock, land use, or technical compliance. It has escalated precisely because it has breached a far more sensitive boundary: the public rebuke of an elected government by the Ruler himself.
In Malaysian politics, criticism from activists, opposition parties, or even social media is par for the course.
Criticism from the Palace is something else entirely. It signals that what might have been dismissed as administrative oversight has crossed into the realm of governance failure. PKR, which prides itself on reformist credentials and institutional respect, should be particularly alert to this distinction. Reformasi was never supposed to mean rule by technocrats insulated from public sentiment, nor governance by committees deaf to symbolic and environmental consequences.
The danger here is not the pig farms per se. The danger is the slow normalisation of defensiveness. When governments respond to criticism by citing procedures, approvals, and jurisdictional technicalities, they may win an argument—but they lose the narrative. And in politics, narratives outlive facts.
Watergate taught us that “legal” does not mean “acceptable.” Waterloo taught us that past victories do not guarantee future immunity. Malaysia’s own political history—from BMF to 1MDB—teaches that scandals are rarely fatal at birth. They become fatal when leaders insist on managing perception rather than addressing substance.
What makes “Swinegate” particularly perilous is that it intersects environment, religion, public health, and royal authority—four fault lines that Malaysian politics treats with caution, or ignores at its peril. Even if every regulation was technically complied with, the broader question remains: was wisdom exercised?
Selangor is not just another state. It is the crown jewel of PKR’s administrative claim, the showcase of what reformist governance looks like in practice. Any perception that arrogance has replaced accountability, or that economic expediency trumps public unease, risks eroding that carefully cultivated image.
History is unforgiving in its metaphors. Watergate didn’t begin with resignation speeches. Waterloo didn’t begin with retreat. Both began with leaders convinced they could control outcomes long after events had slipped beyond their grasp.
The question for Selangor’s leadership is not whether “Swinegate” is a fair label. The question is whether they recognise the early warning signs that history so generously provides.
Because scandals do not become legendary because of pigs, hotels, or battlefields.
They become legendary because those in power refused to listen—until it was far too late.
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In an earlier post I recommend devolving pig farms to pork-friendly countries like Cambodia, South Vietnam, even Thailand. I believe there may be another, one actually within Malaysia, namely Sarawak with its VAST expanse of non-habited land. No Muslim will be offended if the pig farms were to be re-located into areas developed for such farms and distant from them (or, for that matter, anyone else). The farmers only need contend with pig-eating animals like pythons, leopards & tigers, wild cats, maybe bears.
