Readers may have noticed that I seldom
write about Malaysian politics, even though I am Malaysian. Strange, isn't it?
I am certainly not short of opinions.
Like most Malaysians, I have views on almost everything that goes on in the
country. Yet I have always been cautious about expressing them publicly.
The reason is simple. Much of
Malaysian politics revolves around three highly sensitive subjects — Race,
Religion, and Royalty, commonly referred to as the 3Rs. For a non-Malay like
me, all three are areas best approached with great care. At this stage of my
life, I have little desire to attract the attention of the authorities. I have
long accepted the reality of an affirmative-action framework that has existed
since the events of May 1969. Fortunately, the limitations associated with that
framework have not materially affected the way my wife and I live.
Yet the present state of politics in
Malaysia is compelling enough to make me put pen to paper.
My purpose is not to lament the
political or economic disadvantages faced by non-Bumiputeras. Those realities
have existed for decades, and there is little that ordinary citizens can do to
alter them. Regardless of which coalition forms the government, non-Bumiputeras
have largely learned to accommodate themselves to this political landscape.
There were, however, two occasions
when many of us allowed ourselves to hope.
The first came when Mahathir Mohamad
returned for a second term as Prime Minister. It appeared, briefly, that his
final chapter in public life might be different from the earlier ones. Yet it
did not take long for familiar patterns to re-emerge. Before long, Malaysia
seemed to have returned to square one — perhaps in an even more complicated
position than before.
The second moment of hope arrived with
Anwar Ibrahim's ascension as Prime Minister of the Unity Government.
Internationally, Anwar enjoys considerable stature and respect. Domestically,
however, the picture is less flattering. While his administration has recorded
some achievements, public enthusiasm appears to be waning. His support among
Malay voters remains particularly fragile.
His response has largely been to offer
additional incentives and benefits to key constituencies. Yet the strategy does
not appear to have reversed the trend. Even Rafizi Ramli, once regarded as his
political heir apparent and one of PKR's most prominent leaders, has chosen to
chart his own course – with the formation of Bersama.
Looking back, perhaps I should not
have placed so much faith in either of these developments. I have long
understood the political instincts and core values of both Mahathir and Anwar.
Yet hope has a curious way of persuading us to suspend our better judgement.
Today, Malaysia's political landscape
is characterised by intense, chaotic, and often unpredictable maneuvering. It
is politics conducted at a feverish pace, with shifting alliances, competing
ambitions, and constant speculation. For want of a better term, I call it Frenzied
Politics.
The most visible manifestation of this
frenzy has been the sudden dissolution of two state assemblies – Johor and
Negeri Sembilan – and the prospect of more fresh electoral contests, including
the federal Parliament. Such developments thrust the country once again into a
period of campaigning, bargaining, and uncertainty.
The circumstances behind these events
are well known to Malaysians and need little elaboration here. More worrying is
what they reveal about the fragility of the post-2022 political settlement.
The cracks are becoming increasingly
visible.
In Johor, Barisan Nasional (BN) has signaled
its determination to contest the state election independently rather than
continue its uneasy cooperation with Pakatan Harapan. Its leaders remain
convinced that Johor Malays will stay loyal to UMNO, given the party's deep
historical roots in the state. (Stop press: one of its kingpins – apparently driven
by personal issues – has just thrown a spanner into the works. How this will
ultimately play out promises to be an interesting story.)
In Negeri Sembilan, political
rivalries have become intertwined with tensions involving the state's
traditional institutions and competing centres of influence. (Few ordinary
mortals like me know the true cause of the rift between the ruler and the
chieftains, although many would agree that the royal family has always
conducted itself with great dignity. The challenge of upholding tradition while
exercising sound judgement has become something of a paradox.) Beneath the
surface lies a broader struggle for power among the political parties. UMNO,
despite being a partner in the governing coalition, has viewed the situation as
an opportunity to upset the status quo and capture the Menteri Besar's office. Fortunately,
or unfortunately, depending on one's perspective, that ambition was thwarted by
the dissolution of the state assembly.
Strangely, the opposition is also in a
turmoil.
Perikatan Nasional faces its own
internal tensions. Relationships among its constituent parties have become
increasingly complicated, raising questions about the coalition's long-term
cohesion. Splinter groups and new political formations – significantly Wawasan
– are emerging, adding further uncertainty to an already crowded political
landscape.
The result is a political environment
where almost everyone appears to be maneuvering, but few seem capable of
offering a convincing long-term vision for the country.
Whenever politicians enter campaign mode, public discourse becomes dominated by slogans, accusations, and emotional appeals. Identity politics once again takes centre stage. Historical grievances are revived, old fears are rekindled, and voters are encouraged to focus on who they are rather than where the country is heading.
Meanwhile, structural economic
challenges receive far less attention than they deserve.
The contests unfolding in Johor and
Negeri Sembilan illustrate this tendency. Much of the political competition is
being framed in terms of which party can better defend the Malay-Muslim agenda.
For many Bumiputeras, this debate offers reassurance that their interests will
remain protected regardless of who forms the government.
For non-Malays, however, the picture
is rather different. The continued dominance of identity-based politics
reinforces the perception that national issues are too often viewed through a
communal lens.
Malaysians are, in a sense, spoilt for
choice.
Peninsular Malay voters can choose
among UMNO, PKR, Bersatu, PAS, Amanah, and Wawasan. Chinese voters continue to
weigh the competing claims of DAP and MCA. Those less inclined towards
race-based politics have alternatives such as MUDA and Bersama and other even
smaller movements.
Yet one cannot help asking: is this
abundance of choice truly a privilege, or has it become a curse?
The multiplication of parties has not
necessarily produced better governance, stronger institutions, or a more
coherent national vision. Instead, it has often resulted in fragmentation,
shifting loyalties, and endless political bargaining.
Perhaps the greatest casualty has been
public confidence itself.
Rent-Seeking and the Entitlement Mindset
In my view, it lies not only in policy
failures but also in the way we think about race, religion, and politics. Too
often, especially among non-Malays, there is a tendency to strive to be seen as
"politically correct" on these sensitive issues, even when doing so
may not necessarily serve the country's long-term interests. Such attitudes are
symptoms of deeper structural problems.
One of those problems is the culture
of rent-seeking that has become deeply embedded in parts of society.
Almost every week, newspapers report
fresh cases of public officials being arrested on corruption charges. The sums
involved are no longer modest percentages quietly exchanged behind closed
doors. They now run into hundreds of thousands – sometimes even millions – of ringgit.
Whenever I read such reports, I find
myself asking the same question: how does one spend so much money?
The answer came to me unexpectedly
during a recent visit to Genting Highlands.
It had been many years since my
previous trip. My university mate, Leong Yue Peng, lives in nearby Bukit
Tinggi, and my wife and I decided to make the journey partly to visit him and
partly to revisit what remains one of the most remarkable entrepreneurial
legacies left by one of my former bosses in Malaysia.
The first thing that struck me was how
unfamiliar everything had become. Roads that I once knew had been rerouted and
widened. New developments had transformed the landscape. There is now even a
toll gate for vehicles entering the resort. At times, I could scarcely
recognise where I was.
As gambling has never held any
attraction for me, I had no intention of entering the casino. Instead, we
stopped at the duty-free shopping complex halfway up the hill.
There, I witnessed a scene that stayed
with me.
A middle-aged man, accompanied by his
family, moved effortlessly from counter to counter, purchasing luxury goods
with remarkable ease. Expensive items were selected without so much as a glance
at the price tags. Money appeared to be no object.
There was, of course, nothing
inherently wrong with that. Those who have worked hard and succeeded are fully
entitled to enjoy the fruits of their labour.
Yet something about the man's
demeanour intrigued me. His appearance, mannerisms, and bearing did not suggest
someone who had built a large business empire or climbed to the top of a major
corporation. Having encountered more than my fair share of rent-seekers during
my professional life, I found myself wondering whether this was the sort of
conspicuous consumption that easy money often encourages. I may well have been
mistaken about the individual, but the episode reminded me of a broader truth.
Corruption is not merely about money;
it is about attitudes. It fosters the belief that wealth can be acquired
without creating corresponding value. Over time, that mindset corrodes
institutions, distorts incentives, weakens meritocracy, and normalises entitlement.
The greatest damage caused by
corruption is therefore not the money that is stolen. It is the culture that it
leaves behind.
There is an old piece of conventional
wisdom often heard in Chinese communities: corruption exists everywhere, but
what ultimately distinguishes societies is what happens to the proceeds. Some
use ill-gotten wealth to build businesses, create assets, and leave something
behind; others consume it conspicuously. Whether or not this observation is
entirely fair, it reminds us that the long-term consequences of corruption
extend far beyond the initial act itself.
Closely related to rent-seeking is another challenge that Malaysia has wrestled with for decades — the politics of dependency.
Subsidies are politically attractive.
They provide immediate relief, generate goodwill, and often translate into
votes. Every government understands this.
The difficulty arises when temporary
assistance evolves into a permanent expectation.
A society progresses when its citizens
are encouraged to overcome obstacles through effort, education, innovation, and
enterprise. Excessive reliance on subsidies can weaken those instincts. Instead
of helping people climb, it may encourage them to remain where they are.
This is not an argument against
helping the disadvantaged. Every civilised society has a responsibility to
support those who genuinely need assistance.
The real question is whether public
policy empowers people to become self-reliant or merely conditions them to
depend on continued support.
That distinction is often overlooked
in Malaysian politics.
The role of royalty in Malaysian public life presents another uniquely Malaysian dilemma.
Royals, after all, are human beings.
They possess opinions, preferences, and convictions like everyone else. Some
are highly educated and intellectually engaged. It is therefore unsurprising
that they occasionally feel compelled to comment on matters of public
importance.
Recent remarks by a senior member of
one of the royal houses concerning the Federal Government provide one example.
The difficulty is that constitutional
monarchies operate on delicate conventions. While members of the royal houses
may possess every right to hold opinions, public expressions of those opinions
can easily be viewed as seditious by the authorities.
When governments are strong, such
tensions are usually managed quietly. When governments are politically
vulnerable, the situation becomes far more complicated.
Ideally, constitutional principles
should apply consistently. If members of the royal institution are able to
comment on public policies, citizens should likewise be free to discuss royal
actions and decisions, provided they do so respectfully and without malicious
intent.
The issue is not the expression of
views itself. The issue is whether different standards apply to different
groups of people.
A mature constitutional monarchy
should have sufficient confidence to tolerate respectful scrutiny, just as
democratic governments are expected to tolerate criticism from citizens.
The challenge lies not with the
institution itself but with the willingness of executive branch of the
government to uphold these principles fairly and consistently.
Whether we like it or not, Malaysia's political reality remains largely unchanged.
A Malay-majority party, or coalition
of Malay-majority parties, will continue to dominate national politics for the
foreseeable future. Non-Bumiputera communities therefore have limited influence
over the broader direction of political power.
What they can reasonably hope for is
leadership that governs fairly, pragmatically, and with a long-term view of
national development.
Unfortunately, I am not particularly
optimistic.
The Malaysian Indian community faces
its own challenges, including a significant gap between rich and poor. My
understanding of Indian political dynamics is limited, and I shall leave that
discussion to others.
As for the Chinese community, the
choices are familiar. DAP and MCA continue to dominate the political landscape,
yet many Chinese voters regard both as variations of the same dilemma rather
than genuine alternatives.
The reality is that Malaysia's
non-Bumiputera population, though only about thirty per cent of the total,
remains economically significant. Politically, however, its influence is likely
to diminish gradually as demographic trends continue to evolve.
The more perceptive members of the
community have already recognised this reality.
Their response is not political
mobilisation but personal advancement.
If one is not born into wealth, there
remains only one reliable path upward: education, discipline, skills, and
knowledge. These are assets that no government can easily take away and no
political change can readily diminish.
In an increasingly competitive world,
remaining relevant requires constant adaptation. Communities that understand
this will continue to thrive regardless of political circumstances.
Those that do not may eventually
discover that political grievances are a poor substitute for personal
capability.
That, more than any election result,
will determine who remains at the top of the food chain.
Frenzied politics also produces unconventional commentators. Few embodied that phenomenon better than Steadyaku47.
His real name was Hussein Abdul Hamid,
and for a time he was among Malaysia's most widely read political bloggers.
Depending on whom one asked, he was either a fearless truth-teller or an
irresponsible provocateur. Like many influential figures, he inspired
admiration and criticism in equal measure.
Hussein has since passed away.
He belonged to a generation of
bloggers who emerged when many Malaysians were losing confidence in the
traditional media. Long before social media became dominant, writers like him
challenged official narratives, exposed political intrigues, and offered alternative
perspectives on events unfolding behind the scenes. His writing was rarely
polished in an academic sense. It was personal, direct, occasionally emotional,
and often filled with insider gossip. Yet that was precisely why so many people
read him.
My memories of Hussein, however, are
less political than personal.
I cannot remember who first introduced
us, but I vividly remember our first meeting over a simple meal in Melbourne.
At the time, he was going through financial difficulties and confided that he
lacked the means to give his late wife the farewell she deserved. The remark
stayed with me, and I did what little I could to help raise some money. That
marked the beginning of a friendship that lasted several years.
When Anwar Ibrahim eventually became
Prime Minister and Hussein was told that he could return to Malaysia without
concern, I once again helped raise some funds to support his airfare and living
expenses during his stay in Kuala Lumpur.
What I appreciated most about Hussein
was his authenticity. Whether one agreed with him or not, he rarely pretended
to be someone he was not. We occasionally disagreed – particularly over some of
the language he used when writing about members of the royal houses. I felt it
was unnecessarily provocative and ventured into potentially seditious
territory. He would listen, although whether he agreed was another matter.
Through Hussein, I also came to know
several of his Malay College Kuala Kangsar contemporaries, including Joe
Kamaruzzaman and Tan Sri Azman Mokhtar. Those friendships later led to other
acquaintances and acts of kindness that I continue to value.
As the years pass, I find myself
thinking less about Hussein the political blogger and more about Hussein the
friend.
History will judge how much influence
Steadyaku47 had on Malaysian politics. My own view is that his greatest
contribution was not changing government policy but helping create an
environment where alternative viewpoints could circulate more freely. He was
part of a broader movement that weakened the monopoly of traditional media and
contributed, in its own way, to Malaysia's political awakening.
Whether one admired him or disliked
him, he left a mark. And perhaps that is all any writer can hope to do.
Malaysia remains, and is likely to remain for some time, a country where race continues to shape politics. Whether that changes will depend not merely on politicians but on citizens themselves.
We often speak of waiting for another
Tunku Abdul Rahman — a leader with the stature and confidence to look beyond
communal boundaries and govern for all Malaysians. Such leaders are rare. At
present, I do not see one on the horizon.
Yet countries are not built by great
leaders alone. They are also shaped by ordinary citizens, entrepreneurs,
teachers, civil servants, workers, and parents who continue to do the right
thing even when politics disappoints them.
For all our frustrations, Malaysia
remains an extraordinarily blessed country. We enjoy a richness of culture,
resources, food, and human talent that many nations can only envy.
Politics may continue to be frenzied.
Governments may rise and fall. Coalitions may form and fracture.
In the meantime, life goes on.
And perhaps that is the most Malaysian
thing of all.
End
