But this round is different:
the pathology runs deep and wide, with no easy remedy.
Even describing the current crisis is
difficult. We have, essentially, two cancers that feed off each other in subtle
ways: one centred around race and religion; the other around economics and
corruption. Magnifying both is a dearth of central leadership or direction, in
a polity accustomed to strong-armed rule. What should be a fairly
straightforward matter of investigating the heavy debts of a government
investment body and some clearly questionable ‘campaign donations’ has
transformed into a contest about the very ideology of the state.
First, there is a precarious
economic environment for a substantial share of Malaysians. Its component parts
include environmental disasters such as the 2014 floods on the east coast that
left thousands destitute and with no ready means of recouping homes and
livelihoods. Costs of housing and other necessities are rising, especially for
the ever-growing urban majority. There is persistent unemployment and
underemployment, particularly for university graduates, as well as obvious and
increasing intra-ethnic inequality of wealth and income. And there is the
introduction of a new goods and services tax that hits the poor especially
hard, while the ringgit plumbs depths not seen since the Asian
financial crisis.
Compounding endemic economic
discomfort, though, were revelations earlier in 2015 of apparent mismanagement,
extravagant debts and election
bankrolling on the part of government investment fund 1Malaysia
Development Berhad (1MDB). Approximately US$700 million was revealed to have
been deposited into Prime Minister Najib Razak’s personal accounts before the
last election. After bluster and threats, Najib’s spokespeople admitted to the
deposits, but insisted they came not from 1MDB as media speculated, but from
Middle Eastern supporters of the ruling Barisan Nasional (BN) coalition.
On the socio-political side,
racial and religious tensions have been ratcheting up since at least the 2013
elections. An acrimonious debate over the introduction of hudud
(Islamic criminal law) legislation in Kelantan in March 2015 not only capsized
the opposition Pakatan coalition (now reconstituted as Pakatan Harapan,
Coalition of Hope), but fed ongoing incendiary discourse over Malay-Muslim
primacy. While the dominant voices in this chorus were non-governmental Malay
nationalist groups, the government backed up that discourse with a rash of
sedition and related charges against politicians, activists and media,
signalling its intolerance of challenges to its rule.
The convening of a Malay
‘red shirts’ rally on Malaysia Day, of all days, in September 2015 suggest the
extent to which these two strands intertwine. Defending Najib, red-shirt
activists insist those who allege corruption — particularly the majority Malaysian
Chinese participants in massive ‘Bersih’ (‘clean’) protests at the end of
August — impugn Malay rights and dominance.
One possible explanation is
that ethnically structured patronage makes opposing dubious financial transfers
into a racial issue. Certainly the lack of pressure for an investigation or
reforms from Najib’s colleagues in UMNO and other BN parties seems likely to be
tied to the threat of losing out on cabinet positions or future benefits should
they press Najib to stand down. It perhaps also points to their own culpability
via receipt of campaign or other funds.
As a consequence, there is a
simultaneous failure of political will to investigate the allegations
seriously, and spiralling racial antagonism, including unprecedented open calls
for violent retaliation against Bersih protesters (specifically, the non-Malays
among them). That conflation of causes precludes any easy solution to the
current impasse.
Meanwhile, the crisis lays
bare serious institutional weaknesses in the Malaysian polity. First, the 1MDB
and ‘donation’ stories in particular reveal the power of investigative
journalism. Yet the state’s ruthless response to what it sees as harmful
muckraking also reveals how constrained the media still is. Media outlets face
lawsuits and suspension, journalists and editors face harassment, and
government officials advocate curbing even internet platforms.
Second, these long-percolating
conflicts have laid bare a baffling lack of clarity on what Malaysia’s
constitution and laws actually say. Political interference in anti-corruption
efforts likewise indicates blurred lines of authority and how encumbered even
supposedly independent checks and balances are.
Third, this crisis has
revealed the best and the worst of the Malaysian police. On the positive side,
their conduct during Bersih, at least in Kuala Lumpur, was exemplary. On the
other hand, the rounds of sedition and other arrests have detained even clearly
cooperative ‘suspects’ for days for investigation. Such overreach defies
explanation, except as a show of force for deterrent effect.
So what might Malaysia’s
political future hold?
Realignment is all but
inevitable. The prime minister’s position is untenable, even if party or
personal loyalty keeps him secure in the short term. Regaining international
credibility — and arresting the ringgit’s decline — will surely
require at least a gesture toward institutional reform, including stronger
measures to ensure transparency and accountability. And amid newly racialised
politics, both BN and Pakatan are in the throes of reconfiguration. But
institutional weaknesses mean a slide toward authoritarianism may be difficult
to reverse. Malaysia’s troubles are far from over.
Meredith Weiss is associate
professor in comparative politics at the State University of New York at Albany
(SUNY Albany).
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