THIS year, I am not seated in the chandeliered ballroom of Bursa Malaysia Derivatives’ 37th Palm & Lauric Oils Price Outlook Conference & Exhibition 2026 (POC2026) in Kuala Lumpur. No conference badge. No corridor coffees. No annual ritual of, “So… what’s your number this year?”
Instead, I am in Kota Kinabalu, nursing my morning kopi-O while the South China Sea rolls in with better rhythm than most commodity cycles. My dashboard is a phone screen. My instruments are WhatsApp updates, shared slides and forwarded PDFs. Outlookitis, I have discovered, does not require physical attendance – only curiosity and decent WiFi.
As I sift through my notes, one presentation grips me: Dato’ Carl Bek-Nielsen – Chairman of MPOC and Chief Executive Director & Vice Chairman of United Plantations Berhad.
I have known Carl for nearly 30 years. I knew his late father, Tan Sri Borge Bek-Nielsen. I have walked the estates of United Plantations in Lower Perak. I have seen the discipline in the field, the precision in agronomy and the quiet culture that underpins their consistently high yields. What they sustain is not merely hectares – it is standards.
Leadership there is not improvised. It is cultivated. Nurtured. Reinforced season after season like a well-managed replanting cycle. Dato’ Carl’s ability to translate complex geopolitical crosswinds into simple agronomic truths is rare. He does not speak to impress; he speaks to clarify.
At POC2026, he was – as expected – the star presenter. Not because he raised his voice. But because he lowered the noise. When someone combines high yields in the field with high clarity on stage, you listen. Respect, after all, is earned in the rows between palms long before it is earned behind a podium.
His company even operates its own Jendarata Airport in Perak – a private runway for a company that began its plantation journey in 1906. Dato’ Carl can quite literally fly a plane.
So allow me a little imagination. If he runs estates with runway precision, what would it be like to sit beside him in the cockpit of Flight POC2026?
I would have fastened my seatbelt expecting the usual conference flight plan: price bands, weather charts, exchange-rate crosswinds and perhaps a polite skirmish over biodiesel mandates.
Instead, he handed us a black box. He began with a plane crash. Alamak!
United Airlines Flight 173. Landing gear malfunction. Crew circling. Everyone fixated on the stubborn wheel that would not deploy. Meanwhile, the fuel gauge was quietly sinking – like a yield curve starved of fertiliser.
Someone mentioned it. Softly. Politely. The captain stayed focused on the landing gear. The plane ran out of fuel. Boom.
If I were seated next to Dato’ Carl, I would have leaned over and whispered, “Dato’, in aviation and in oil palm industry, denial is not a renewable resource.”
Industries rarely collapse from lack of intelligence. They collapse from misdirected attention.
And in palm oil, we sometimes debate landing gear with remarkable passion – while the fuel gauge blinks patiently in the corner like a diligent intern nobody invites to speak.
The world is expanding and it’s not just our waistlines
Dato’ Carl then pulled the throttle back and zoomed out to planetary scale. The world has grown from under one billion people two centuries ago to over eight billion today. By the end of the century, we may be nudging ten billion and beyond. The UN estimates we will need 50 per cent more food by 2100.
Fifty percent. Not “marginal improvement.” Not “pilot programme.” Not “let’s form a global taskforce.” Half again as much food.
Africa tells the story vividly. Nigeria alone records more births annually than all of Europe and Russia combined. Meanwhile, Africa imports millions of tonnes of oils and fats each year – much of it palm oil – despite being oil palm’s ancestral home. If African per capita consumption rises modestly, global demand expands like yeast in warm dough.
If I were in that cockpit, I would lean over and say, “Dato’, this is not turbulence. This is structural lift.”
Demography does not attend regulatory briefings. Babies do not wait for policy harmonisation. And hunger does not read NGO press releases.
Yield: The only tape measure that matters
Then came the line that every serious planter understands instinctively. Yield per hectare is the true measurement tape of sustainability. Not slogans per hectare. Not certifications per hectare. Not conferences per hectare. I repeat – Yield per hectare.
Palm oil occupies a tiny fraction of global agricultural land yet produces a disproportionate share of edible oils. Replace it wholesale with soybean or rapeseed and we would need land the size of several European nations combined.
Palm oil is the quiet overachiever. It produces more with less. The introvert genius of vegetable oils – socially misunderstood, mathematically impressive.
If Malaysia lifts yields meaningfully, production can rise without clearing a single new hectare. That is not expansion. That is optimisation. That is stewardship with spreadsheets and soil tests.
If I were in the cockpit, I would grin and say, “Dato’, palm oil is not land-hungry. It’s land-savvy. It’s the only crop that understands efficiency better than an accountant.”
The uncomfortable truth is simple: low yield is not environmentally noble. It is environmentally expensive. You do not save forests by being inefficient. You save forests by being excellent.
Pipeline with more leaks than a campaign promise
But Dato’ Carl did not let us bask in yield glory for long. He spoke of the long pipeline from field to mill – and the quiet losses and leakages within it.
Poor ripeness control. Missed bunches. Loose fruits left behind like forgotten coins under a car seat. Labour shortages. Floods. Lack of discipline. And my favourite diagnosis – PowerPoint syndrome. Ah yes. The condition where we harvest slides more efficiently than fruit.
If I were in the cockpit, I would chuckle, “Dato’, sometimes we fertilise the projector more than the oil palm trees.”
Loose fruits ignored today return tomorrow as voluntary oil palm seedlings – complete with a herbicide invoice attached. Oil never disappears. It merely reincarnates as cost.
An inch of real field improvement beats a mile of conference applause. Field discipline is the only KPI that photosynthesises.
Ageing palms and blinking gauges
Then came the dashboard warning. A significant proportion of palms are already 19 years or older. Aging and growing too tall to be reached efficiently for harvesting. And Ganoderma is not sending festive greetings – it is sending biological reminders.
If I were in that cockpit, I would tap the instrument panel gently and murmur, “Dato’, biology does not entertain extension requests.”
You can renegotiate loans. You can refinance debt. You can even reschedule conferences. But you cannot reschedule ageing palms. Replanting delayed is yield postponed. Yield postponed is competitiveness quietly surrendered – not in headlines, but in tonnes per hectare.
Dato’ Carl was clear: proven, high-yielding planting materials and uncompromising culling are not luxuries. They are survival tools. In estate language: cheap-cheap no good. Good-good no cheap.
Plant poor genetics and you do not make a short-term mistake. You sign a 25-year contract with regret – complete with compounded interest. There is no easy divorce from bad seed. No annulment clause. No return policy. In plantations, romance is expensive. Due diligence is cheaper.
And as any seasoned planter knows, the nursery is where the future whispers – long before the boardroom realises it.
Opinion is not evidence
On sustainability and deforestation, Dato’ Carl was measured and firm. Palm oil occupies a small fraction of agricultural land globally. Malaysia’s forest loss trends have declined significantly in recent years. Meanwhile, other oil crops expand with less theatrical scrutiny.
If I were in the cockpit, I would say, “Dato’, facts are like fertiliser. Not glamorous. But essential.” A body of opinion is not the same as a body of evidence. One trends. The other grows.
But defending palm oil requires more than data. It requires behaviour. Sustainability must be built in, not bolted on mid-flight. Your behaviour is your brand. In plantations, your field condition is your CV. And unlike social media, the soil does not accept filters.
Two horses and a moving runway
On EUDR, Dato’ Carl’s analogy of two horses was sharp enough to make even seasoned executives sit upright. Is the cart before the horse? Or are we flogging one that has already retired?
Malaysia says it is ready with traceability and compliance. But millions of smallholders globally may not yet be equipped for digital polygons and regulatory gymnastics overnight.
If I were in the cockpit, I would suggest gently, “Dato’, regulation should be a runway, not a maze.” Sustainability must be practical to be powerful. Otherwise, we risk creating more referees than players – and a game nobody can afford to finish.
And yes, about prices
And just when you think the cockpit conversation is over, Dato’ Carl clears his throat and says, “Alright, let’s talk prices.” After all, this was Flight POC2026. Finally. The part everyone pretends not to be waiting for.
His planter’s take was refreshingly grounded. Weather still makes the crop. Management makes or breaks the crop. In other words, you can pray for sunshine, but you still have to sharpen your sickle. The sky may vote, but the estate superintendent counts the ballots.
Palm, he notes, is losing momentum. Supply is stagnating. After years of NGO pressure to curb deforestation – combined with our own failure to replant ageing palms – future supplies are likely to tighten. Ironically, the very activism that sought to restrain palm may have helped restrain supply. In commodity language, that whispers “bullish.” In planter language, that means “don’t get complacent, but don’t be surprised.”
Global palm production growth is slowing to about 1.3 million tonnes per year toward 2030, compared to roughly 2.0 million tonnes annually over the previous decade. That is more than a 50 per cent slowdown in growth rate. When supply growth loses horsepower while demand keeps jogging, prices tend to develop confidence.
Then comes Indonesia’s biodiesel revision from B50 to B40. Is it a flat tyre? Or a blowout? A bearish gust perhaps – but in commodities, one country’s policy is another country’s price cushion.
Add to that the uncertainty over Indonesian land issues – whispers of 3 to 4 million hectares under scrutiny – and concerns that upkeep and fertiliser inputs may be compromised. When fertiliser rates fall, yields do not rise. If Indonesia’s output slips by just 4 per cent, that is roughly 2 million tonnes less CPO. In a market already tightening, that is not a rounding error. That is a statement.
And hovering in the distance, like a joker card not yet revealed, is the pending final rule for the Renewable Fuel Standard (RFS) in the United States. In palm oil, there is always a joker. The only question is whether it smiles at you or smirks.
Hence the forecast band of RM3,900 to RM4,300 per tonne – subject to good weather and a Ringgit behaving itself above 3.9 to the USD. In other words: prices are supported, but not invincible. Bullish winds, bearish crosswinds, and the ever-present weather radar.
If I were in the cockpit, I would nod and say, “Dato’, in palm oil, the market has memory, the weather has mood swings, and management has no excuses.”
My take – Prices may fluctuate. Policies may pivot. But discipline remains the only hedge you truly control. Weather still makes the crop. Management still makes or breaks it.
If I were in the cockpit, I would smile and say, “Dato’, in palm oil, even the joker card needs weather support.” Price is important. But price is not the only gauge on the dashboard. The fuel indicator matters more than the entertainment system.
Before we become a glider
If I were truly seated beside Dato’ Carl, headset on, horizon ahead, I would conclude this:
Malaysia does not need more hectares. It needs more discipline per hectare. More ruthless replanting. More uncompromising agronomy. More pruning. More smallholder empowerment. Less PowerPoint.
The world is growing. Land is finite. Yield is destiny. Palm oil is not perfect. But neither is gravity. And both operate whether we acknowledge them or not. The danger is rarely the headline. Headlines flare. They spike. They dominate the news cycle.
The real danger is autopilot.
Autopilot in replanting decisions – when “next cycle” quietly becomes “not urgent yet.”
Autopilot in yield discipline – when average feels comfortable.
Autopilot in policy clarity – when statements multiply but direction thins.
Autopilot while competitors expand acreage elsewhere.
Autopilot while demographics quietly redraw demand curves.
And perhaps most comfortable of all – autopilot into well-earned retirements, leaving harder structural questions for the next generation. Autopilot feels smooth. Until the fuel runs low. Yes. The fuel gauge is whispering louder and louder.
And if I were in that cockpit, headset slightly askew, coffee gone cold, I would lean over and say: “Dato’, the landing gear is fascinating. The lights are blinking beautifully. The dashboard is very impressive. But let’s make sure we actually land with fuel in the tank.”
Because in aviation – and in oil palm – it is not the smooth take-off that defines you. It is whether you arrive with enough reserves to taxi confidently to the gate.
Roger that. Maintain altitude. Watch the gauges. Trim the excess. Increase the yield.
And above all – never confuse noise with navigation. Over and out.
About United Plantations: Discipline per hectare (in my opinion)
In my opinion – and I say this after walking more than a few estates in my lifetime – if oil palm operations had a benchmark for field discipline, it would look suspiciously like United Plantations.
For over a century, UP has quietly demonstrated that plantation leadership is not measured by how many hectares you announce, but by how well you manage the hectares you already have. While others may chase expansion headlines, UP chases yield per hectare. And more often than not, it catches it – firmly, consistently, almost unfashionably.
Its estates outperform national averages not by luck, not by rhetoric, but by design. Proven planting materials. Timely replanting. Relentless upkeep. Mechanisation where practical, not where fashionable. At UP, agronomy is not a conference topic – it is a daily routine.
Sustainability there is not bolted on when auditors arrive. It is built in – into soil care, biodiversity buffers, water management and governance discipline. No fanfare. Just systems that work.
And above all, it is about people. Managers who walk the fields instead of just reviewing slides. Supervisors who count bunches instead of excuses. A culture that rewards discipline over drama. Kudos to UP!
In a sector often distracted by volatility and narrative noise, UP – in my view – reminds us of a simple truth: high yields, strong governance and sustainability are not competing ambitions. They are the same conversation, conducted properly, hectare by hectare.
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