JULY 25 — As Negeri Sembilan moves towards its state election, I find myself increasingly disturbed by the direction of the campaign.
“Angry” is not quite the right word. Neither is “sad.” What I feel is closer to exasperation, perhaps even disillusionment. After decades of elections, democratic competition and repeated claims that Malaysia is becoming politically more “mature,” we are still being dragged back to the same old language of race and religion.
The names, parties and coalitions may change. The narrative does not.
Figures such as Muhammad Sanusi Md Nor and Ahmad Zahid Hamidi have once again placed Malay political power, religious identity and communal insecurity near the centre of electoral debate. But this is not only a problem among Malay-based parties. Chinese-based parties and politicians have also long relied on their own versions of communal anxiety, warning that Chinese political representation is weakening, that cultural rights are under threat, or that only a particular party can defend the community from an increasingly hostile political order.
The vocabulary may differ, but the political strategy is often remarkably similar. Each provocative statement produces another wave of outrage that Malaysian politics has descended to this level.
Are we really still surprised by any of this? Race and religion are not recent intrusions into Malaysian politics. They are embedded in our political history, and they have never truly faded. If anything, they have intensified.
Sometimes the message is explicit. At other times, it is disguised in language about protecting dignity, preserving political power or preventing one community from being controlled by another. The wording may be carefully calibrated, but the emotional message is always the same: your identity is insecure, your future is under threat, and only we can protect you.
Khairy Jamaluddin’s argument that Pakatan Harapan must stop blaming others for its weak Malay support contains a legitimate challenge. Political parties should confront their electoral failures honestly. They cannot simply dismiss voters as ignorant, manipulated or ungrateful because the results are uncomfortable.
But when the argument moves towards suggesting that Malay rights or political security depend upon the survival of a particular party, it becomes deeply troubling. No political party should be allowed to equate its own fortunes with the fate of an entire community.
Sanusi’s political appeal reflects another dimension of the problem. His confrontational style is often defended as authenticity. But there is a difference between being authentic and being manipulative. There is also a difference between speaking plainly and deliberately degrading public discourse.
Too often, Malaysian politics rewards the politician who generates the strongest emotional reaction rather than the one who can articulate a serious programme of government.
Zahid and Barisan Nasional face their own contradiction. UMNO periodically speaks of renewal, moderation and political reform. Yet whenever electoral pressure intensifies, the language of communal guardianship returns.
Nearly every coalition condemns identity politics when its opponents practise it, yet continues to deploy the same tactics whenever they serve its own agenda.
That hypocrisy is becoming unbearable.
What troubles me most is not only the divisiveness of the rhetoric. It is the contempt for voters that seems to lie beneath it.
Some politicians behave as though Malaysians have no memory, no judgment and no ability to recognise contradiction. They condemn racial politics in one speech, reproduce it in another, and then retreat behind claims that they were misunderstood, misquoted or taken out of context.
They manufacture outrage, dominate the news cycle and then move on without accountability. In doing so, they often make fools of themselves while treating voters as dumb. Yet the uncomfortable truth is that these narratives sometimes work.
It would be too easy and analytically dishonest to claim that voters simply see through everything. Fear is politically powerful. Identity can offer a sense of belonging and security, especially during periods of economic uncertainty. Repeated narratives of communal loss can shape the way people interpret otherwise complex problems.
The effectiveness of such rhetoric does not prove that voters are dumb. It shows that politics is not conducted through reason alone. People vote through a mixture of material interests, social identities, historical memories, loyalties, anxieties and judgments about which side appears to understand them.
Political manipulation works best when it attaches itself to genuine concerns.
Malay voters may have real worries about economic mobility, cultural recognition or their children’s future. Chinese voters may have legitimate concerns about equal citizenship, discrimination, education and institutional fairness. Indian voters, as well as communities in Sabah and Sarawak, carry their own histories of marginalisation and political neglect.
These concerns should not be dismissed simply because politicians exploit them.
But acknowledging genuine concerns is very different from accepting their weaponisation.
This is where I struggle most with the direction of our political campaigns. Even when racial narratives are electorally effective, we should not accept the idea that their effectiveness makes them legitimate.
A politician’s responsibility is not simply to identify the deepest fears within society and exploit them more efficiently than an opponent. Leadership should involve reducing fear, clarifying difficult choices and persuading citizens that their security does not depend on another community’s insecurity.
Instead, too many of our politicians remain trapped in a politics of permanent communal emergency. Every election is presented as the last opportunity to defend the race, save the religion, preserve the culture or prevent political domination by someone else.
How many times can a community face political extinction and somehow survive until the next election?
This cycle prevents Malaysian politics from progressing because it allows political parties to avoid the harder questions. What is their plan for wages, housing, education, healthcare, water management, public transport and accountable government? How will they attract investment while protecting workers? How will development benefit rural communities and lower-income households?
Identity politics is attractive because it is cheap. It requires no detailed policy, no measurable target and no explanation of why earlier promises remain unfulfilled.
Voters are not entirely innocent in this relationship, but neither should they carry all the blame. Some reject inflammatory rhetoric. Others tolerate or reward it because they distrust the alternatives, inherit party loyalties or genuinely believe their community is vulnerable. A vote is rarely a straightforward endorsement of every statement made during a campaign.
So, do politicians really think voters are dumb? Perhaps some do. More often, they simply believe voters can be frightened, divided and emotionally cornered. And, sadly, sometimes they are proven right.
That is the part we should be most uncomfortable admitting. These narratives survive because they still generate attention, loyalty and votes. But electoral effectiveness does not make this kind of politics acceptable.
A campaign that wins by making Malays fear the Chinese, Chinese fear the Malays, Muslims fear non-Muslims, or one community believe that compromise amounts to betrayal may succeed at the ballot box. It still leaves the country poorer in trust, weaker in judgment and less capable of solving its actual problems.
My frustration is not simply that Malaysian politics has failed to progress. It is that too many politicians appear invested in preventing that progress.
A more confident, informed and less fearful electorate would demand more from them. It would judge them by competence rather than communal performance. Perhaps that is what they fear most. Treating voters as dumb is not an accidental feature of this politics. It is one of the conditions that allows it to survive.
The question in Negeri Sembilan is therefore larger than who forms the next state government. It is whether voters will once again reward politicians for insulting their intelligence or finally force them to earn their trust.
* Khoo Ying Hooi, PhD, is an associate professor at Universiti Malaya.
** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
