Road Rage and Finger Gestures: The Malaysian Greeting

Road Rage and Finger Gestures: The Malaysian Greeting

If you drive in Malaysia long enough, you will learn a new, unofficial language. It doesn’t involve words, grammar, or courtesy. It involves horns, headlights, sudden braking, and—most famously—finger gestures. Recently, the news reminded us how ugly this “language” can get, when a road rage incident ended with an elderly driver being assaulted and the MPV driver going to jail. Sad, shocking, but also painfully familiar.

Let’s not pretend this came out of nowhere.

In Malaysia, road rage is almost a national sport. We are friendly people on land—smiling at kopitiams, chatting in lifts, saying “tak apa” even when it is very much apa. But put us behind the steering wheel, and suddenly we transform. The car becomes armour. The road becomes a battlefield. And every minor inconvenience feels like a personal insult to our ancestors.

Someone cuts into your lane? How dare they. Someone drives slowly? Confirm idiot. Someone honks at you? That’s war. The finger goes up faster than the signal light ever did. It’s not even anger anymore—it’s reflex. Like saying “hello”, but angrier and less polite.

The problem is, road rage feels justified in the moment. You’re hot, tired, late, stuck in traffic that hasn’t moved since Mahathir era. You feel wronged. You feel powerful. But that temporary satisfaction—honking, shouting, flipping the finger—comes at a price. Sometimes that price is just embarrassment. Sometimes it’s fines. And sometimes, like the recent case, it’s prison time and a ruined life.

What makes it worse is that many people forget who they’re dealing with. That “annoying driver” could be an elderly uncle, a tired parent, or someone having a very bad day. Once you step out of the car to “teach a lesson”, you’re no longer a driver—you’re a threat. And the law doesn’t care how justified you felt.

Let’s be clear: violence is never normal road behaviour. Finger gestures may feel harmless, but they escalate situations. They turn small mistakes into ego battles. And ego on the road is dangerous. Cars are heavy. Humans are fragile. Prison is not a traffic shortcut.

Malaysia doesn’t need more macho drivers. We need calmer ones. Drivers who realise that arriving five minutes later is better than not arriving at all. Drivers who understand that patience is not weakness—it’s survival.

So maybe it’s time we update our “Malaysian greeting” on the road. Less middle finger, more signal light. Less horn blasting, more deep breathing. Less “you know who I am?”, more “aiya, never mind”.

Because at the end of the day, no one wins a road rage fight. One loses freedom, another loses safety, and everyone loses common sense. And honestly, that’s one tradition we should all agree to stop.