Malaysia at a crossroads: Unity, rights and the politics of division

Malaysia is a remarkable country. Having travelled to over 100 countries, I would rank it among the most magnificent of them all.

History tells us that the indigenous Orang Asli first migrated and settled here roughly 40,000 to 60,000 years ago; Austronesian-speaking Malays between 2500 and 1500 BC; and Hindu and Buddhist settlers from around the First Century onwards.

Waves of migrant workers in the 19th and 20th centuries flocked to this land, drawn by the rapid opening of mines and plantations, bustling maritime trade and growing economic activity.

These migrants – through their sweat and toil, working in often extremely harsh conditions – created the foundation of our modern economy and built its infrastructure. Many chose to start families and settle here for good.

This nation therefore grew through continuous migrations and the coming together of a rich mix of communities, each contributing to the social fabric we enjoy today. They have lived side by side with respect, understanding and dignity. Has that colourful social landscape held together?

Some practices have changed, in part, when the federal government began pursuing a more prominent Islamisation agenda from the 1970s onwards.

Islamic bureaucracy was gradually introduced across government institutions, education systems, the Sharia courts, the Islamic university, banking and insurance. Aspects of dress codes were formalised and Islamic schools proliferated. Some observers felt that certain aspects of public life were taking on a more Arab-influenced character.

This shifted the political battleground. The two main political parties – Umno, an ethnic-based Malay party, and Pas, an Islam-based party – began competing openly for much of the same voter base. As the Malay saying goes: Gajah lawan gajah bergaduh, pelanduk mati di tengah – when elephants fight, the mousedeer dies in between.

Ethnic and religious conservatism grew significantly. Some politicians began making divisive, intolerant and exclusionary statements, at times targeting minorities.

Social interaction became strained by suspicion. Divisive rhetoric, racial stereotyping and religious polarisation began threatening social cohesion, with a sharp rise in hate speech from certain political parties and their affiliated NGOs.

The arrival of social media aggravated the situation.

Healing divisions

How exactly do you achieve meaningful unity in a plural society where deeply ingrained racial and religious divisions have become institutionalised? The challenge becomes even greater when such dynamics are dominated by the majority and entrenched by political structures.

Studies suggest ethnic and religious tolerance declined sharply after the May 13 unrest of 1969 and after the introduction of the New Economic Policy (NEP) in 1971.

The ongoing debate over Hindu temples is the latest flashpoint for the Hindu minority. The issue is made more complex by the fact that most of these temples existed long before the laws governing them were enacted. District councils and local governments came much later – and even then, they have had over five decades to resolve the matter. Why has it not been resolved?

It was the British colonial administration that brought in migrant workers to work in plantations, mines and infrastructure projects. They built roads, bridges, railways, buildings, municipal services and ports.

These workers needed daily worship – a spiritual connection before heading out to work in often gruelling conditions. They were allowed, and in some cases encouraged, to build shrines and temples on available land. Back then, the Malay community living among them in the estates had no visible objection.

Today, after decades of development, these shrines and temples are more conspicuous. The matter should, however, be resolved through dialogue and empathy, keeping emotions out of it.

Minority contributions

The children of those migrants who chose to remain went on to serve the country at even higher levels – becoming doctors, lawyers, engineers, teachers and civil servants.

Malaysia is a multiracial, multi-religious nation where minorities live under institutionalised, ethnically charged political conditions that favour the majority.

The Communications and Multimedia Act 1998, particularly Section 233, has long been criticised by civil society groups and legal experts as vague and overly broad, with loosely defined offences around “offensive” and “annoying” online communications. Many legal experts and activists argue that the law severely restricts freedom of expression and weakens the constitutional safeguards envisioned by the architects of the Federal Constitution.

Many argue that members of the majority community can, in some cases, demean or disparage minorities and face little or no consequence, even when numerous police reports are filed.

The brain drain

For some communities, the threshold for perceived offence appears very low while the threshold for accountability appears very high.

The phrase “go back to your country” is all too familiar to many minorities. But why should they go? They too helped build this country. And why should they live in fear of threats invoking the trauma of the May 13 riots?

Even after generations of settlement and enormous contributions to nation-building, some argue that governments – largely led by the majority – remain suspicious of minorities. Many believe that securing university places or scholarships remains disproportionately difficult for minorities.

The government has yet to fully recognise the Unified Examination Certificate (UEC), though some private institutions accept it. It has also not ratified the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination. These positions make it difficult to credibly promote human rights.

The Federal Constitution is still invoked in ways that affect minority communities, even as the special privileges of the Malay and indigenous communities remain firmly intact.

The impact has been real: a long stream of professionals has left the country for greener pastures elsewhere.

Many observers argue that some unscrupulous politicians, exploiting ethnic-based policies for personal advantage, have used such policies as cover for enrichment through cronyism, nepotism, corruption and abuse of power.

It is largely the Malay poor – in whose name these policies were ostensibly designed – who are often seen as paying the highest price.

A fractured future?

In the 2022 general election, ethnicity and religion were increasingly used to attract votes, worsening already fragile communal relations. Ethnic identity, closely tied to religion, has become a defining fault line in political life.

Younger generations today grew up in a relatively developed country. Many have no direct experience of the immense contributions made by early Chinese and Indian migrants in building Malaysia’s economy and infrastructure. Without that lived connection, a sense of appreciation may be harder to sustain.

Despite all this, where interaction between different communities does occur, it is often harmonious and respectful. No one from any race or religion should use offensive words to demean those of other faiths. Such conversations must be conducted with decorum, respect and courtesy.

This is where we all live. This is where we must look out for one another. And this is where we need to work together to leave a lasting and sustainable legacy for the generations that follow.

Islam, after all, promotes peace, compassion, mercy and mutual respect. It encourages coexistence and honours human dignity. Its hallmarks are justice, fairness and freedom of belief.

As a Muslim myself – and one who strives to be a good one – I find much of this spirit missing in many present-day Muslims. There is a serious disconnect. Either the teachings have not been internalised, or the influence of interpretations drawn from sources beyond the Quran has taken precedence.

Thankfully, most of the gravest injustices that tarnish Islam elsewhere in the world do not occur here in Malaysia – except, perhaps, for the insulting and offensive language sometimes directed at minorities on social media.

Why is there so much resentment towards the very descendants of those who also gave their blood and tears to build this country? Where does this acute resentment of other faiths come from? We cannot be such poor human beings, or such poor Muslims.

We have built this country once before, together – and if we choose to, we can build it again, better and fairer, for everyone who calls this place home.

Sarajun Hoda Abdul Hassan
Co-editor, Aliran newsletter
1 March 2026

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