by Anas Nor’Azim
Author’s note: The following is constructed through notes and musings by the author on political developments in Malaysia written between 2018 and the present, and collected across various mediums; notebooks, margins, word documents etc. Some are further elaborated, others represented here as is, all rearranged for a semblance of narrative continuity. As such, the contents here may appear disjointed, rough and incomplete but nonetheless, it is hoped that it may be of some use.
“The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear.”
Antonio Gramsci, Prison Notebooks
I
It is difficult to overstate how monumental 2018 was for the politics of Malaysia. UMNO’s long reign had finally been disrupted, and after a decades-spanning struggle, the reformist democratic faction led by Pakatan Harapan would finally have a chance at power. Yet due to the nature of how it unfolded, to overstate might not be so difficult after all. Victory for the democratic forces came with a whimper; an election to be precise; hardly the stuff to write home about. For the average Malaysian, participation meant lining up at the polling stations, ticking a few boxes, followed by a long wait in anticipation, albeit in some cases this process was disrupted either by incompetence, or laughable attempts at interference. In addition, this so-called victory could not have been conceived without compromise. The coalition saw the inclusion of an UMNO breakaway faction, Parti Pribumi Bersatu Malaysia, known simply as Bersatu, and the leading role played by its most prominent member; Mahathir Mohammad, who by this point was 93 years of age and could probably recall where he was when the Japanese landed on the shores of Kota Bharu.
II
There are three inescapable facts of living in Malaysia; potholes, floods and Mahathir. Having survived a quadruple heart bypass surgery in 2007 and a global pandemic, it would seem that not even the forces of nature could spare Malaysia from Mahathir. Indeed, in 2019 at the ripe age of 92, he shocked passersby when he was seen cycling in the parks of Putrajaya. The fact that this nonagenarian was able to be elected Prime Minister served as a source of intrigue for many casual observers, though should come as no surprise when considering the fact that contemporary Malaysia was shaped in large parts by the policies of his administration beginning in the 80s through to the 00s. In fact, a significant portion of his appeal was nostalgia for a period of intense economic growth that defined his rule.
But, where some remember with rose-tinted glasses the glory days of the 90s, others remember it as a more troubling era. This was after all the period of Ops Lalang, where 119 people were detained without charge under the Internal Security Act; the Memali Incident, which claimed 18 lives; the 1988 judicial crisis; the Asian Financial Crisis and of course, the arrest of Anwar Ibrahim which led to the birth of the Reformasi movement, just to name a few. These wounds run deep, and the ghost of Mahathir may well continue to haunt Malaysia, the ringing of his bicycle bell echoing the halls of power in Putrajaya, long after his eventual demise (a date only God knows when).
III
Nonetheless, when victory was proclaimed, even without the 2/3rd majority needed for constitutional amendments, hope persisted. The age of ‘New Malaysia’ was widely heralded, and those committed to the reformist project quickly got to work. Students organised to demand the reformation of student unions and the repeal of the University and University Colleges Act (UUCA), protests broke out demanding environmental, gender and workers justice, and NGOs lobbied for changes they had long fought for. But almost immediately, signs of coming problems began to emerge. Surely enough, electoral promises began to be broken, the reforms consistently stalled and eroded. More troublingly, however, despite a more open political environment, there was little to fill the gap; the last time tear gas was deployed to protestors for example, at least to the author’s knowledge, was in 2012 during Bersih 3.0. The protests that broke out never mobilised beyond the thousands, a far cry from the rallies of previous years. And when the crucial time came to defend hard-fought victories, on the eve of the ‘Sheraton Move’, depressingly little showed up. The parties, strangely, had refused to mobilise. The urgency that characterised the mass movement of the previous years, had dissipated.
IV
Where did it all go wrong? To fully grasp the question would require the perspective of time that the author cannot provide. But what is at least clear to the author, and perhaps the key defining character of this period, can be summarised in one word: demobilisation. Retrospectively, the numbers, and consequently political strength, showcased in the protests leading up to Najib’s electoral defeat could’ve only been possible through party mobilisation. And for a long while this was possible because Malaysia buckled a trend that was ongoing elsewhere (more particularly in the Western world); the mass party was still very much alive. The period beginning in 1998 up until the 2010s marked a particular moment when the interest of opposition parties and a small group of organised reformists (and radicals), who coalesced into the various non-governmental organisations (NGOs) that dot the Malaysian political landscape, intersected. When the general election in 2018 concluded, those interests began to either diverge or be co-opted. And though it might be too early to tell, one could also mark this period as the gradual devolution of the mass party structure amongst the now ruling parties. When the time came to fight against its overthrow in 2020, the appetite and the ability to mobilise had been thoroughly subsumed.
That democratic elements pinned their hopes onto the NGOs is understandable, at least from a historical perspective; unions by this time had long been co-opted and rendered ineffective, while student organising, though always present, struggled to replicate the strength and mass of their forebears in the 70s. However, the NGO structure was never particularly conducive towards mass organising; one could donate or show physical or verbal support towards their efforts, but direct participation in decision-making is limited, at least on a mass scale. The smattering of left-wing parties that exist remain frustratingly small (even by contemporary standards), and within the major opposition parties, a mass loyal to the project rather than the party itself was insufficiently cultivated; personality-driven politics remain supreme. Politics, in practice, become conducted in the same manner as one would with team sports.
From this, the dearth of grassroots organising and mobilisations that followed the dawn of ‘New Malaysia’ until today could be explained. In this sense, Pakatan Harapan succeeded where Najib had failed, in ways that are probably much envied by the latter.
V
There is a joke (?) I tell to outsiders unfamiliar with Southeast Asia as an introduction to its politics. It goes as follows;
Each country in the region possesses its own unique and identifiable characteristic; Singapore is a hyper-capitalist dystopia, perhaps the only one in the region that could claim first-world status; Vietnam is a market socialist republic, ironically not unlike its bitter rival, China; Thailand is perhaps globally unique in its mix of royal and military authoritarianism; Brunei is akin to a Gulf State, with its oil wealth and Islamic absolute monarchy whereas the Philippines is more akin to a Latin American nation-state with its strongmen figures, cartel problems and US imperial interference.
Malaysia on the other hand can be identified by one particular characteristic: its profound mediocrity. It is rich, but not as rich as Singapore. It is authoritarian and corrupt, but never to the extent that can be found in its neighbours such as Indonesia, Thailand and the Philippines. Leaders incompetent as such that they cannot be counted on to save their ass, and reformers so dull it cannot be counted on to pursue. On the whole, Malaysia is always reliably second place to something, in all things good or bad it always falls short of excellence. A jack of all trades, master of none. If Malaysia had another name, one could surmise it to be “Asal Boleh”.
VI
For those of us who grew up in the 90s and the 00s, it would probably come as a great irony that 2020 would turn out the way it did. Instead of flying cars and supertall skyscrapers as far as the eyes can see, Wawasan 2020 would rather turn out to be a year of political backstabbing, lockdowns, economic downturn and mass death. Yet it is precisely in this chaotic time that the silence from the previous years was shattered. Rebellion festered despite the declaration of a state of emergency and a movement control order. “Everything under heaven is in utter chaos; the situation is excellent”. New parties emerged (and reemerged) to contest existing ones, and every new day presented new hashtags to express dissent (#kerajaangagal, #bukaparlimen), and not even the royals escaped scrutiny. Key among these was #Lawan (to fight), a series of actions organised by the Sekretariat Solidariti Rakyat that culminated in a physical protest in KL that mobilised a few thousand (impressive considering the circumstances).
What made the scale of these actions possible was perhaps the shared experience of undergoing lockdowns. Economic hardship was common, and disappointment rife amongst partisans of the then-overthrown Pakatan Harapan, but at a minimum, all had to endure the varying hardships of being stuck at home. This situation hence gave a common perspective to assess developments, and government incompetence in handling the pandemic, along with double standards in the application of law and punishment, only served to further invigorate mass anger.
But in the end, this situation would not last. The core issue would persist; mass mobilisations could not be converted into mass organisation. Energies soon dissipated. Muhyiddin would resign, replaced by Ismail Sabri, who in turn was replaced by Anwar Ibrahim; what was initially termed a ‘back-door’ government could perhaps in retrospect rather be called a revolving one. The numerous new parties that emerged (MUDA, Pejuang, PUTRA, PRM etc.) would each suffer internal crises owing to its lacklustre performance in the 2022 elections. PH would find itself at the ruling seat yet again, this time with the cooperation of a much weaker UMNO, and even more ready to capitulate to conservative demands. When all is concluded, we found ourselves right back at where we left off.
VII
There is much hesitation towards #Lawan coming from disparate left-wing groups and individuals, and certainly, many of these criticisms are well worth considering. But dismissal and non-participation can only guarantee failure. The fact of the matter is, we do not control the political circumstances we choose to participate in (and in the case of Malaysia, the left, in its entire history in this land, has never been in a position to determine such anyway). Theorising can only get one so far, but participation is the only guarantee of outcome. To put it in another way, politics is akin to hunting game; theory and preparation akin to the honing of the scope for a better approximation of the target, and even so, circumstances well beyond our control may affect our chances at success, eg. the target may move, or the wind may blow the bullet off course. But at the end of it all, to even have a chance, one has to take a shot.
VIII
Much has been said concerning the ‘Green Wave’ that swept Malaysia in the 2022 elections. Nonetheless, the author wishes to emphasise several points:
First, there is a tendency to caricature the Islamist movement as stubborn remnants led by country bumpkins from a bygone era. I say caricature because that is precisely what it is. Historically speaking, much of the energies of the contemporary Islamist movement originated in the 80s, precisely during the period of breakneck modernisation that characterised Mahathir’s first term. The speed and scale of growth of the movement were further accelerated by the ‘Islamisation arms race’ between PAS and UMNO, as both parties jockeyed for support among the Malay base. Furthermore, even a cursory glance at the various groupings that make up the movement would find amongst its members plenty of middle-class professional urbanites; doctors, lawyers, bankers etc. (one would be hard-pressed to explain places like Bangi or Shah Alam without so), quite far from the rural dominance as is typically described. Though admittedly, it would be interesting to investigate the dynamic between rural and urban members of the movements, if there is any.
Why this is the case would require a deeper overview well beyond our current scope, though it is not a stretch to imagine that the disruptions to the social fabric brought by modernisation would turn people towards religious piety, especially if other options find themselves lacking.
Secondly, post-election analysis typically emphasises the key influence played by social media, especially TikTok, as a determinant for Perikatan Nasional’s massive gains in the elections. However, these analyses typically miss the forest for the trees. Social media algorithms, by design, feed and reinforce already existing prejudices; it does not explain how these ideas take root and where they originated from. To grasp this one would need to look at the Islamist movement’s impressive array of grassroots, community-based institutions; mosques, madrasas, charity groups, healthcare, student organisations, non-governmental organisations, etc. Very often these institutions are run by committed cadres of organisers thoroughly in line with the overall vision, often with very little to show for in terms of individual benefit; an organising at a scale perhaps not seen since the heydays of the international worker’s movement. Regardless of one’s agreement with its politics, we would do well to respect and learn from their efforts.
IX.
This is the realm of politics, where defeat is almost certain, and victories come with terms and conditions. The reformist project is ever eroded, the ruling powers struggle to keep itself intact, the left is still nowhere to be seen and the old order, much like Mahathir, simply refuses to die despite numerous setbacks. From a certain vantage point, it appears like nobody really wins. The prevailing lesson to be learnt by anyone committed to a political project, it would seem, is to learn how to cope with defeat.
Yet, in spite of it all, things have indeed changed. Ask anyone old enough to remember previous eras, they can tell you, even if vaguely, what was different. We lose, we lose, and we lose yet some more, but a moment’s respite will show that the struggle fought has completely reshaped the political terrain for all involved. If anything, it would prove that, change, however mutated, is possible. Change is perhaps not the conclusion, but rather the act itself. What the question is then, is how to bring about the change we want.