FMT:
When merit stalls in the Malaysian armed forces
7 hours ago
Frankie D'Cruz
A retired lieutenant colonel puts his career on record to question how merit is recognised in the military
After 33 years of service, Lt Col Don Too is placing his career record before the public. (Ahmad Sollehin pic)
KUALA LUMPUR: For years, retired officers have raised the same quiet complaint: careers that plateaued without an obvious cause.
Few sign their names to those stories. Fewer still bring documents, dates and evaluations into the open.
Retired Lieutenant Colonel Don Too Heng Onn, 77, has done all three.
After 33 years in the Malaysian army — regimental command, staff-college roles, a United Nations (UN) posting and repeated high performance grades — Too now asks a simple question:
If the services truly reward merit, why did he spend a decade at one rank?
Few sign their names to those stories. Fewer still bring documents, dates and evaluations into the open.
Retired Lieutenant Colonel Don Too Heng Onn, 77, has done all three.
After 33 years in the Malaysian army — regimental command, staff-college roles, a United Nations (UN) posting and repeated high performance grades — Too now asks a simple question:
If the services truly reward merit, why did he spend a decade at one rank?
A young Don Too (left) and (right) with company commander Major Jayabalan during a field exercise near Mount Kinabalu National Park, Sabah, 1991. (Don Too pic)
“This is not about bitterness,” he said. “I remain proud of the institution that shaped me.”
“But silence also implies acceptance that I was not good enough for promotion to the next rank and I don’t believe my record supports that.”
Too’s decision to speak comes at a moment of heightened scrutiny for the Armed Forces.
Investigations into procurement, the arrest of army chief Hafizuddeain Jantan and allegations of misconduct at some facilities have turned public attention to how the defence establishment governs itself.
Those developments do not relate to Too’s career. Still, they sharpen the public’s interest in whether promotions and appointments happen transparently, and whether merit matters.
From cadet to command
Too joined the Royal Military College in 1968. He became one of six junior under officers in his second year, “an early sign of leadership”, he says.
“This is not about bitterness,” he said. “I remain proud of the institution that shaped me.”
“But silence also implies acceptance that I was not good enough for promotion to the next rank and I don’t believe my record supports that.”
Too’s decision to speak comes at a moment of heightened scrutiny for the Armed Forces.
Investigations into procurement, the arrest of army chief Hafizuddeain Jantan and allegations of misconduct at some facilities have turned public attention to how the defence establishment governs itself.
Those developments do not relate to Too’s career. Still, they sharpen the public’s interest in whether promotions and appointments happen transparently, and whether merit matters.
From cadet to command
Too joined the Royal Military College in 1968. He became one of six junior under officers in his second year, “an early sign of leadership”, he says.
Lt Col Don Too inspects the quarter-guard on arrival to assume command of the 5th Royal Ranger Regiment, Bau Camp, Sarawak, 1990. (Don Too pic)
He played hockey, rugby, won all his boxing bouts, trained as a lifeguard and once helped rescue trainees during a failed river-crossing exercise.
“There was no commendation,” he recalled. “The institution preferred to forget the incident. But acts of service shape you whether they’re acknowledged or not.”
Commissioned in 1970, Too had been selected for the Royal Engineers. The events of May 1969 altered that path; non-Malay officers were reassigned to infantry roles as the army expanded.
“My career trajectory changed overnight,” he said. “Like most officers, I accepted the posting and soldiered on.”
Over two decades he served with five Ranger battalions, including two tours with the 5th Rangers, which he later commanded.
He held staff roles at brigade, division and corps headquarters, taught at the Command and Staff College and worked at the defence ministry.
“I never had disciplinary issues,” he said. “My strength was analysis and writing.” A staff-college thesis he wrote, The Principles of War in the Malaysian Environment, appeared in the army journal Sorotan Darat.
The director of military intelligence phoned to congratulate him. “That told me my thinking had value,” he said.
The decade that didn’t move
Too rose to lieutenant colonel in 1990 and stayed there until mandatory retirement in 2001.
He played hockey, rugby, won all his boxing bouts, trained as a lifeguard and once helped rescue trainees during a failed river-crossing exercise.
“There was no commendation,” he recalled. “The institution preferred to forget the incident. But acts of service shape you whether they’re acknowledged or not.”
Commissioned in 1970, Too had been selected for the Royal Engineers. The events of May 1969 altered that path; non-Malay officers were reassigned to infantry roles as the army expanded.
“My career trajectory changed overnight,” he said. “Like most officers, I accepted the posting and soldiered on.”
Over two decades he served with five Ranger battalions, including two tours with the 5th Rangers, which he later commanded.
He held staff roles at brigade, division and corps headquarters, taught at the Command and Staff College and worked at the defence ministry.
“I never had disciplinary issues,” he said. “My strength was analysis and writing.” A staff-college thesis he wrote, The Principles of War in the Malaysian Environment, appeared in the army journal Sorotan Darat.
The director of military intelligence phoned to congratulate him. “That told me my thinking had value,” he said.
The decade that didn’t move
Too rose to lieutenant colonel in 1990 and stayed there until mandatory retirement in 2001.
Don Too (centre) with UN military observers in Angola, 1995, where he served as a regional senior military observer after leading a Malaysian contingent. (Don Too pic)
“For an infantry officer, that’s unusual,” he said. “If there are performance problems, you don’t advance. My reports were consistently strong.”
As commanding officer of the 5th Rangers, Too earned high marks from three brigade commanders.
On leaving regimental command he received the defence ministry’s excellent service award, an accolade he was told went to roughly the top two percent.
He later returned as directing staff at the Command and Staff College and graduated from the Malaysian Defence College where his commandant’s thesis ranked among the top five.
Being among the top graduates, he was invited by the College Board to pursue a master’s degree in strategic studies.
But before he could take up the offer, he was directed to lead a team of military and police officers under the UN in Angola.
After six months he was posted as the regional senior military observer. The provincial UN commander asked that he extend his tour by three months to coincide with his own end of tour; Malaysian representatives in New York declined.
During his departure courtesy call, the UN force commander described his report as unusually high.
Back home, Too produced classified strategic studies at Army Training and Doctrine Command. “They assigned me tasks normally done by tri-service teams,” he said.
“Each time, it ended with a polite ‘well done’.” Still, promotion boards passed.
On not lobbying for rank
Colleagues urged Too to press his case with senior generals. “They told me, ‘With your record, they can’t refuse you,’” he recalled.
“I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I believed professionalism should speak for itself.”
He never suggested anyone rose through improper means. “I’m not saying anyone grovelled,” he said.
“But if promotions depended on who knows you, I was doomed from the start. I never tried to project myself or draw special attention.”
He watched peers and juniors advance, including some who attended Defence College years after he had.
“I swallowed my pride,” he said. “But deep down, I knew the system hadn’t served me fairly.”
“Had I been Bumiputera, would I have reached colonel at least?” he asked. “I’ll leave that to readers. The fact the question arises already tells you something.”
What this reveals
Too’s case does not prove bias or corruption. It does, however, show how opaque personnel systems are experienced from within.
When institutional processes lack clarity, speculation fills the gaps, and trust erodes.
“Stories like mine circulate quietly among families,” he said. “From fathers to sons. That’s why many non-Bumiputeras no longer see the service as a place where merit will be recognised.”
Transparency would not settle every career question. But it would make promotion outcomes defensible.
Too suggests modest reforms: clearer criteria for boards, publication of aggregate promotion statistics and a mechanism for review or appeal.
“If the armed forces want to be world-class, promotions must be based on merit,” he said. “Not familiarity, not kinship, not unwritten rules.”
He does not demand belated recognition. “I’ve lived my life,” he said. “I remain grateful to the army.”
“But if an officer rated excellent, recommended for advanced strategic studies, praised by UN leadership and trusted with drafting strategic papers and still be passed over repeatedly, then we must ask what the system rewards.”
As veteran testimony goes on record, institutions face a simple choice: explain how they decide, or leave quiet stories to shape public judgment.
“For an infantry officer, that’s unusual,” he said. “If there are performance problems, you don’t advance. My reports were consistently strong.”
As commanding officer of the 5th Rangers, Too earned high marks from three brigade commanders.
On leaving regimental command he received the defence ministry’s excellent service award, an accolade he was told went to roughly the top two percent.
He later returned as directing staff at the Command and Staff College and graduated from the Malaysian Defence College where his commandant’s thesis ranked among the top five.
Being among the top graduates, he was invited by the College Board to pursue a master’s degree in strategic studies.
But before he could take up the offer, he was directed to lead a team of military and police officers under the UN in Angola.
After six months he was posted as the regional senior military observer. The provincial UN commander asked that he extend his tour by three months to coincide with his own end of tour; Malaysian representatives in New York declined.
During his departure courtesy call, the UN force commander described his report as unusually high.
Back home, Too produced classified strategic studies at Army Training and Doctrine Command. “They assigned me tasks normally done by tri-service teams,” he said.
“Each time, it ended with a polite ‘well done’.” Still, promotion boards passed.
On not lobbying for rank
Colleagues urged Too to press his case with senior generals. “They told me, ‘With your record, they can’t refuse you,’” he recalled.
“I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I believed professionalism should speak for itself.”
He never suggested anyone rose through improper means. “I’m not saying anyone grovelled,” he said.
“But if promotions depended on who knows you, I was doomed from the start. I never tried to project myself or draw special attention.”
He watched peers and juniors advance, including some who attended Defence College years after he had.
“I swallowed my pride,” he said. “But deep down, I knew the system hadn’t served me fairly.”
“Had I been Bumiputera, would I have reached colonel at least?” he asked. “I’ll leave that to readers. The fact the question arises already tells you something.”
What this reveals
Too’s case does not prove bias or corruption. It does, however, show how opaque personnel systems are experienced from within.
When institutional processes lack clarity, speculation fills the gaps, and trust erodes.
“Stories like mine circulate quietly among families,” he said. “From fathers to sons. That’s why many non-Bumiputeras no longer see the service as a place where merit will be recognised.”
Transparency would not settle every career question. But it would make promotion outcomes defensible.
Too suggests modest reforms: clearer criteria for boards, publication of aggregate promotion statistics and a mechanism for review or appeal.
“If the armed forces want to be world-class, promotions must be based on merit,” he said. “Not familiarity, not kinship, not unwritten rules.”
He does not demand belated recognition. “I’ve lived my life,” he said. “I remain grateful to the army.”
“But if an officer rated excellent, recommended for advanced strategic studies, praised by UN leadership and trusted with drafting strategic papers and still be passed over repeatedly, then we must ask what the system rewards.”
As veteran testimony goes on record, institutions face a simple choice: explain how they decide, or leave quiet stories to shape public judgment.
No comments:
Post a Comment