Former deputy prime minister Ghafar Baba once remarked that Malaysia has more royal heads than any other nation. We have nine Sultans, four non-royal governors who behave just as regally, and the Sultan of all Sultans, the Paramount Ruler. Ghafar is factually correct, but Liechtenstein and Monaco have even fewer subjects per royal head.

Malaysians are enamored with and consumed by matters royal. Sultans' birthdays in particular are keenly watched. That's when decorations are bestowed upon deserving subjects, a time when plain Puteh bin Hitam becomes Tan Sri Puteh bin Hitam, P.M.N. (Second Class). Newspapers have extra runs as honorees eager to see their names in print generously snap up copies for friends and neighbours. Expensive, ornate uniforms are ordered. The offices of these honorees are, for the next few weeks and perhaps months, essentially non-functional, their occupants distracted by the rounds of congratulatory messages and celebratory functions.

Because of the ubiquity of royal events it is not surprising that some of the glamour would trickle down to the masses. Malay weddings in particular are mini royal galas, excessively elaborate and drawn out. The bride and groom are treated as royal couple of the day with guests dutifully paying homage, just like with the real king and queen.

Since matters royal are regarded so deferentially and perhaps enviously, it is no surprise that our senior officials ape the ways of the Sultans. They become engrossed with the trappings of glittering ceremonies and elaborate titles. If imitation is the ultimate flattery, Malaysians do certainly flatter their royal rulers. Officious Malaysians outdo themselves to acquire just the right royal finesse: from the limp handshake and lordly blank stare to the large entourage of hangers-on. And being customarily late at functions.

These officials behave more like detached figureheads rather than engaged executives. They delegate their work and defer important decisions to their subordinates while they become preoccupied with the grandeur of their offices. They believe that whatever they say will automatically be done, just like with the Sultan's titah (command). Thus one reads with irritating regularity of ministers exhorting "Be efficient!" "Be productive!" or other equally inane commands as if their words are magic wands. Say it and it shall be so.

This behaviour among Malaysian officials is so predictable that I now label it the "Sultan Syndrome".

The syndrome involves more than just appearing Sultan-like during ceremonies but goes right down to their day-to-day work and general attitude. They are no longer the officer in charge but reigning monarchs, to be waited upon by their fawning underlings.

The illustrious former governor of Bank Negara, Tun Ismail Ali, must be thinking of the Sultan Syndrome when he observed, "One can easily be obsessed with the trappings of power and entrust the responsibilities to someone else, usually to their [sic] underlings who take blame when the business goes wrong."

There are other annoying manifestations of this syndrome. It is impossible to get by the unloading zones at airports as so many officials' cars are parked there, despite the clear "No Parking" and "Loading Zone Only" signs. Obviously traffic laws are only for peons and peasants, not for wannabe Sultans.

Junior functionaries, seeing the patterns set by their superiors, naturally imitate such behaviours with gusto. It is common to see lowly bureaucrats thumping around in the kampongs with humble villagers holding umbrellas over them, just like with the real Sultan. Time and effort are wasted at long reception lines, droning and effusive welcoming speeches, and the ever present bunga manggar processions and kompang troupes. Under such circumstances these officials never get to see the real problems, much less solve them.

Nor are our academia spared. Visiting a campus I was struck by an impressive door sign-Professor Tan Sri Datuk Dr. Haji Hitam bin Puteh. That was the right sequence, I think. These were further followed by a string of alphabets, signifying no doubt momentous achievements of the room's occupant. I have always wondered how such impressively titled individuals get called by their mothers back in the village. That distinguished professor, away from the pomposity of his office and in an unguarded moment, would I am sure respond to "Ooi, 'Tam!"

It is important that our officials be disabused of this syndrome. Such behaviours do not enhance competitiveness. Worse, they are poor examples for the young. Already we are seeing among young Malaysians an inflated sense of their self-worth. They believe that their degrees are enough proof of their ability; now they are deserving of the perks.

The reform must begin with our leaders. They must demonstrate a greater sense of responsibility. When problems occur, be they repeated bank failures, foreign exchange debacles or breaches of airport security, the person in charge must be held accountable. Heads must roll. Presently the worse penalty civil servants face is delayed promotion or not being invited to serve beyond age 55. Tolerating incompetence or mediocrity only encourages it. Sadly, this Sultan Syndrome is fast becoming entrenched. Unchecked it will be Malaysia's undoing.