They actually want to work in Johor, if a better job is available
Along the narrow corridor between Johor and Singapore, a quiet exodus unfolds each morning — hundreds of thousands of young Malaysians crossing an international border not by ambition, but by arithmetic. In Skudai, a town close enough to Singapore to feel its gravitational pull, the question animating this election season is not whether people love their home, but whether their home can afford to keep them. Pakatan Harapan candidate Kartiyaini Jeyapalan has made this talent retention crisis the heart of her campaign, arguing that without deliberate investment and competitive wages, Johor will remain a feeder economy for its wealthier neighbour.
- Over 400,000 Johoreans cross the Causeway daily, many from Skudai just 20 kilometres away, because Singapore's salaries dwarf anything available at home.
- Young lawyers, doctors, and engineers tell Jeyapalan the same thing: the commute was never the dream — it was the only viable option left.
- Rising costs of living and scarce quality employment have stripped young professionals of any real choice, fracturing family time and tethering stability to work permits and border queues.
- Jeyapalan is campaigning on attracting foreign investment and building wage-competitive industries, framing talent retention not as ideology but as structural survival.
- Skudai voters signal cautious confidence in Pakatan Harapan's track record, but whether electoral trust can be converted into economic transformation remains unresolved.
Kartiyaini Jeyapalan, a lawyer and Pakatan Harapan candidate contesting the Skudai state seat, has spent her campaign listening to a single recurring story: young professionals who want to stay in Johor but cannot justify it financially. The numbers behind that story are stark — more than 1.18 million Malaysians work in Singapore, with roughly 400,000 making the daily crossing from Johor alone. For many in Skudai, just 20 kilometres from the border, Singapore's economy has become less a choice than a gravitational force.
The professionals Jeyapalan meets — lawyers, doctors, engineers — did not set out to commute across an international border. They arrived there because the salary packages Singapore offers simply do not exist in Johor. The cost of that commute is not only financial: hours swallowed by traffic, family life made conditional on work permits, stability that can be revoked at a border checkpoint. Yet with local wages unable to compete, the daily crossing feels less like a decision than a default.
Jeyapalan describes the situation as a retention crisis and argues the remedy requires deliberate structural change — foreign investment, quality job creation, and an economy that stops functioning as a talent pipeline for Singapore. She is careful to frame this not as political rhetoric but as practical necessity. The young voters she meets are not asking for handouts; they are asking for conditions that make staying home a rational option.
On the campaign trail, now into its second week, she reports a receptive electorate. DAP has held the Skudai seat since 2008, and constituents tell her they trust the coalition to continue building on that record. Whether that trust will eventually translate into the wage parity and opportunity that might slow the daily exodus remains the open question hanging over every conversation — as the young people of Skudai keep crossing, and keep waiting.
Kartiyaini Jeyapalan has spent her campaign days in Skudai listening to young people explain why they leave. The Pakatan Harapan candidate, a lawyer running in a four-way contest for the state seat, hears the same story over and over: they want to stay in Johor. They want to build lives here. But the math doesn't work.
More than 1.18 million Malaysians now work in Singapore. About 400,000 of them cross the Johor Causeway each day. Many come from Skudai, a town just 20 kilometers from the border, where the pull of Singapore's economy has become almost gravitational. Jeyapalan, who serves as deputy chairman II of Johor Wanita DAP, says the young professionals she's met—lawyers, doctors, engineers—all express the same frustration. They didn't dream of commuting across an international border. They ended up there because the salary packages Singapore offers are simply unavailable at home.
The cost of living in Johor keeps climbing. Job opportunities remain scarce. When Jeyapalan asks voters what matters most, the answer is consistent: employment, wages, and the state's deepening dependence on Singapore's economic orbit. Young people tell her they would prefer to work locally if comparable positions existed. The preference is not sentimental. It's practical. A daily commute to Singapore means hours lost to traffic, family time fractured, stability perpetually conditional on border crossings and work permits. But without better salaries in Johor, the choice becomes no choice at all.
Jeyapalan frames the problem as a retention crisis. If Johor cannot offer competitive wages and meaningful employment to its young professionals, the state will continue hemorrhaging talent. The solution, she argues, requires deliberate action: attracting foreign investment, creating jobs that pay enough to keep people home, building an economy that doesn't function as a feeder system for Singapore. She speaks of this not as ideology but as necessity. The young voters she meets aren't asking for charity. They're asking for opportunity.
On the campaign trail, which had entered its seventh day when she spoke to the press, Jeyapalan reported an encouraging reception. Skudai voters, she noted, are familiar with DAP's record in the constituency—the party has held the seat since 2008. Constituents tell her they want Pakatan Harapan to win, that they trust the coalition's leaders to continue the work already begun. She interprets this as confidence, as a signal that voters believe change is possible if the right people are in power. Whether that confidence translates into solutions for the wage gap remains an open question. For now, the young people of Skudai continue their daily crossing, waiting to see if anyone will give them a reason to stop.
Notable Quotes
They actually want to work in Johor, if a better job is available. For most of them, the salary package in Singapore is more attractive.— Kartiyaini Jeyapalan, Pakatan Harapan Skudai candidate
If we can create something similar here, more investors will come to Johor, and we can retain our talent.— Kartiyaini Jeyapalan
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When you say young people prefer to work in Johor, do you mean they've actually tried and failed to find jobs here, or is it more that they never looked?
Both, I think. Some have searched and found nothing at the salary level they need. Others know the landscape well enough to know the search would be futile. The preference isn't romantic—it's born from experience.
Four hundred thousand people crossing daily. That's a staggering number. What does that do to a place like Skudai?
It hollows it out in a particular way. You have young professionals who sleep in Johor but live in Singapore, economically speaking. Their tax money, their spending power, their energy—it all flows across the causeway. The town becomes a bedroom community for another country's economy.
Jeyapalan mentions that even lawyers and doctors are leaving. Aren't those the people who should be anchoring a local economy?
Exactly. If you can't keep professionals at that level, you've lost the foundation. You're not just losing workers—you're losing the people who would start businesses, mentor younger people, build institutions. The brain drain becomes structural.
She talks about attracting foreign investment. Is that realistic, or is Singapore's gravitational pull just too strong?
It's realistic if the incentives are right and if there's genuine political will. But it requires competing not just on wages but on infrastructure, stability, quality of life. Singapore has built that over decades. Johor would need to match it, not just offer slightly better salaries.
What does a daily commute actually cost a person—not in money, but in life?
Time, mostly. Hours in traffic. Exhaustion. Your children see you less. You miss school events, family dinners. You're always slightly displaced, never fully rooted anywhere. It's a kind of invisible tax on your existence.