DECEMBER 9 — In the recent Sabah state election, the Democratic Action Party (DAP) was decisively routed, swept completely off the map. Yet what was most striking was not the defeat itself, but the chilling silence that followed. No outrage. No sympathy. Not even a sigh of regret.

Instead, an unprecedented wave of schadenfreude washed across social media. 

On Chinese platforms, the response was perhaps the clearest indicator of current sentiment. 

The moment DAP collapsed in Sabah, comment sections exploded not with sympathy, but with sarcasm and laughter.

On election night, I was at a wedding dinner when news broke that DAP had been wiped out. Someone at the table let out a cold laugh. Another quipped: “Good job, Sabahans. Next time, it’s our turn.”

It was not anger, but the release of long-suppressed frustration. Sabah voters had done what many quietly wished they could do themselves. A pressure valve had been opened.

This shows that DAP did not merely lose seats – it lost the people’s trust so completely that even basic political sympathy evaporated. When a party collapses and the public responds not with concern but with applause, it means one thing: the public has already walked away.

That apathy within the Chinese community is far more devastating than the electoral defeat itself. And that is what truly terrifies DAP.

Losing seats is simply losing an election, something DAP has experienced many times when it was in the opposition. But losing trust is different. When voters not only stop defending you but celebrate your downfall, your mandate has dissolved. This is not a setback. It is a silent, collective rejection.

Sabah’s result was a quiet eruption of accumulated disillusionment.

Many have simplified the defeat as the rise of localist sentiment. That is only partly true. The deeper question is: would localism have exploded so fiercely if frustration with the federal unity government had not been simmering for years?

Even in the final days of campaigning, DAP confidently believed it would “win four, aim for five”. 

Yet in most constituencies, even when combining all non-DAP opposition votes, DAP still trailed behind Warisan. The results exposed a shocking disconnect from grassroots sentiment and a severe misreading of the political climate.

It also revealed DAP’s most dangerous delusion – the belief that it still holds the unwavering trust of the Chinese community. In reality, goodwill has been eroding for years. The party believed that shouting “reform” was enough to retain moral high ground, forgetting that Chinese voters are particularly sensitive to broken promises and increasingly immune to rhetoric.

So when DAP fell, there was no hand-wringing. No sympathy. Only a cold lesson: those who rise on slogans can also fall by them.

Most voters did not actively wish for DAP’s downfall. But when it happened, they were surprised to find they felt no sadness at all – only that the party had finally faced a reckoning. Some even hoped this reckoning would spread to their own states, so they too could settle accounts for years of disappointment.

The frustration did not appear overnight. It built up over time, and Sabah merely became the breaking point.

Three years into the unity government’s rule, corruption and abuse of power not only have failed to improve, but have worsened. Under pressure from right-wing forces, the government has grown increasingly conservative, directionless and hesitant. This has left the Chinese community feeling squeezed, with shrinking political and social space.

DAP’s silence, its compromises and its tone-deaf explanations have been widely interpreted as a betrayal of its founding principles.

The current disillusionment is not accidental. It is the inevitable consequence of long-building disappointment.

For more than two decades – since the era of Reformasi – Chinese voters have repeatedly placed their hopes in new coalitions, from “Ubah” to “change of government”, investing their trust in each fresh promise. Yet each cycle ends in familiar disappointment.

Eventually, voters stopped believing slogans and stopped believing that anyone truly “represents” the Chinese community. They learnt a hard truth: the community’s condition does not change simply because a party speaks louder.

Today, Chinese voters demand far more than rhetoric. They want delivery. They want visible, tangible results. They want reforms they can feel – not speeches they can share.

Only action can rebuild trust.

Only results can restore credibility.

DAP is not afraid of losing seats. It is afraid it may never win back all those cooling hearts.

And what truly unsettles the party leadership is the possibility that the “Sabah effect” will spread across peninsular Malaysia, shaping the next general election in ways the party can no longer control.

* Ding Lee Leong is a former chief editor of Oriental Daily News.

** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.