Malaysia's Frenzied Politics

 

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.

A Campaign of Noise and Identity Politics
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

What, then, is Malaysia's greatest challenge?

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.

The Politics of Dependency
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.

A Fatal Attraction
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.

Thriving despite politics
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.

Remember Steadyaku47?
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.

Conclusion
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