THE rush to implement the MyDigital ID system by October 10, 2024, is yet another instance of the government hastily pushing forward a colossal digital initiative without considering the implications for everyday Malaysians.
Similar to the Central Database Hub (PADU) debacle, where citizens were left scrambling to update their information ahead of a strict deadline, MyDigital ID caused widespread frustration.
The government’s decision to enforce it without adequate preparation and public education left many, particularly the elderly and those in rural areas, in a lurch.
But in a sudden turn of events, Transport Minister Anthony Loke announced that the October 10 deadline for MyJPJ users to register with MyDigital ID has been scrapped. The decision came after a pop-up notification on the MyJPJ app indicated that registration was mandatory, which Loke clarified had not received an official decision from his ministry. He ordered the notification to be taken down, assuring Malaysians that the integration will be done in a way that does not inconvenience users.
Loke’s announcement offers some relief, but the broader issues remain.
Prior to the U-turn, Malaysians were given less than ten days to register for MyDigital ID before they can otherwise not use the MyJPJ app.
This might not seem too daunting for a tech-savvy individual with access to a stable internet connection. But for many other Malaysians, including the elderly and those in rural communities, this deadline feels impossible. There are Malaysians who don’t even own smartphones, and those who do are not always confident in navigating the convoluted registration process.
Poor internet infrastructure in rural areas further exacerbates the problem, leaving many kampung folks with blank pages and frozen screens instead of a completed registration.
After multiple attempts to log into the MyJPJ app, I was repeatedly met with error messages and failed registration processes. Each attempt to verify my identity in the MyJPJ app through the MyDigital ID’s e-KYC (electronic Know-Your-Customer) system was met with a “failure to connect with MyDigital ID’s server”. It took sheer determination and a solid 15 minutes of staring at the loading screen, like waiting for paint to dry, before the connection finally decided to show up.
With another unannounced deadline looming, how are Malaysians supposed to ensure that their digital identity — now tied to their driving licenses and road tax — is secure and accessible? One must also question the lack of proper public education prior to making MyDigital ID mandatory.
Much like PADU, which saw lacklustre registration rates due to a lack of clear communication from the government, MyDigital ID is being enforced with little explanation of its benefits or the process itself. People are left scrambling, guessing their way through a system that has not been designed with user-friendliness in mind.
For example, scanning the IC card for the app demands hands as steady as a dental surgeon’s or those of a GGK sniper, leaving no room for even the slightest tremble.
While the Science, Technology and Innovation Ministry took to X in December last year to explain that MyDigital ID is an online identity verification system designed to give users access to various government services, there has been little or no follow-up public announcements since.
The bigger concern, however, lies in the potential loopholes that enforcement officers could exploit.
Imagine a scenario where a Malaysian is pulled over and cannot access their digital driving license or road tax due to app failures. Will the average Malaysian, especially those who are not tech-savvy, be extorted for their lack of understanding or penalised for something beyond their control?
The risk of corruption grows in the absence of clear guidelines and reliable systems. If the government cannot assure a smooth transition to digital systems like MyDigital ID, how can it expect to eradicate corruption?
Moreover, this rush to digitise is reminiscent of the introduction of PADU. Both systems promise efficiency and centralisation but fail to consider the practical needs of the population.
Another issue looms for Malaysians travelling abroad. While the MyJPJ app allows users to display their digital driving licence and road tax, Thai authorities are insisting that physical copies of these documents be presented.
This poses a problem for many Malaysians, as physical licenses are nearly obsolete in Malaysia. A recent video by a Thai policeman on TikTok, speaking fluently in Malay, warned Malaysian visitors that digital licenses might not be recognised in Thailand, adding another layer of complexity to an already frustrating situation.
If the government truly seeks to create a safer, more efficient system for all, it should prioritise ensuring that no one is left behind. Extending the registration deadline and providing robust public education, especially for vulnerable groups, is essential.
It’s high time the government slows down and rethinks its approach. Malaysians deserve better than being rushed through poorly implemented digital systems. If MyDigital ID is truly intended to enhance national security and streamline public services, then the least the government can do is ensure that every Malaysian has the time and resources needed to adopt it properly. The previous deadline simply did not suffice. – October 3, 2024.
A. Azim Idris is a news editor at Scoop.my
