Who is truly winning in the battle of identity politics in Malaysia?

Who created, cultivated, and benefited from identity politics in the first place? According to former deputy unity minister Datuk Seri Ti Lian Ker, the answer is politicians across Malaysia's political spectrum.

Identity politics was not created by one single party in Malaysia, nor should it be blamed solely on voters. It has long been a political instrument used by different parties at different times to mobilise their respective constituencies.

Pakatan Harapan (PH) said identity politics contributed to its defeat in Negeri Sembilan. There is some truth in that. But it is only part of the story if PH presents itself purely as the victim.

The more uncomfortable question is this: Who created, cultivated and benefited from identity politics in the first place?

The answer is politicians across the political spectrum.

Umno has, at various times, mobilised Malay fears and grievances. The message was essentially that Malays must remain united because their political, economic and cultural position was constantly under threat.

During Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad’s long tenure, the Chinese community was at times used as a convenient political target whenever Malay support needed to be consolidated. The rhetoric varied according to circumstances, but the formula remained familiar – create a threat, generate fear, rally the community and strengthen political support.

But the story does not end with Umno.

DAP developed its own version of identity politics. For years, its political narrative highlighted the unequal treatment of non-Malays and portrayed the Chinese and other minority communities as victims of discrimination and an unfair political system. A recurring theme in its messaging was that “MCA is to be blamed”.

That narrative resonated because there were genuine grievances. Politically, however, it also reinforced a Chinese-versus-Malay political consciousness.

Pas took a different route. Its political messaging has frequently centred on strengthening Islam’s position in government and society.

The party has challenged interpretations of Malaysia’s constitutional framework, including the relationship between Islamic and civil law, while arguing for a greater political role for Islam.

Again, these positions are rooted in legitimate ideological arguments.

But when political parties turn such issues into electoral mobilisation, religion and identity become political currency.

What, then, happens to ordinary Malays?

They are repeatedly told: “You must unite, otherwise you will lose your rights.”

They receive various forms of assistance, privileges, subsidies, contracts and political “dedak”, creating the perception that the political system is protecting them.

But the bigger question is how much of the nation’s wealth actually reaches ordinary Malays, and how much is captured by the political and business elite.

This is where the conversation becomes uncomfortable.

Malaysia has witnessed numerous scandals involving vast sums of public money – from 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB), where billions of ringgit were misappropriated according to court findings and investigations, to controversies involving Felda, Majlis Amanah Rakyat (Mara), Tabung Haji, government procurement and government-linked entities.

The ordinary citizen may receive a small benefit and be told: “See, the government is protecting you.”

But if billions are lost through corruption, mismanagement or politically connected dealings, ordinary Malays are not necessarily the biggest beneficiaries of Malay political dominance.

Someone else may well be receiving the far larger share of the “dedak”.

This is precisely why identity politics is so effective.

It keeps people arguing over race and religion instead of asking a more important question: Who controls the money, and who benefits from political power?

So, did all sides contribute to the politics of division?

Yes, although not always in the same way.

Umno traditionally mobilised Malay insecurity. DAP mobilised minority grievances and fears of Malay dominance. Pas mobilised Islamic identity and concerns about the country’s direction. Each narrative, in turn, reinforced the others.

When one side says, “The Malays are under threat”, the other responds, “The Chinese are under threat.”

Both sides then become politically dependent on the continued existence of that perceived threat.

That is the paradox.

The more each community fears the other, the easier it becomes for politicians to present themselves as the protectors of their respective communities.

Which brings us back to Negeri Sembilan.

To attribute the Negeri Sembilan result solely to identity politics is too convenient.

If PH wants to understand why it lost support, it should ask a more difficult question: Why did identity politics become politically effective again?

Perhaps Malays were successfully reminded of their fears and insecurities.

Perhaps Chinese voters were simultaneously reminded of their own anxieties.

Perhaps, after years of political uncertainty, more voters are casting their ballots based on perceived security and identity rather than political labels.

But there is a larger lesson.

Identity politics is profitable for politicians, but costly for the rakyat.

It keeps Malays worried about Chinese. It keeps Chinese worried about Malays. It keeps Muslims worried about secularism. It keeps non-Muslims worried about Islamisation.

While everyone is busy defending their respective communities, the political class continues competing for control of the state and its resources.

The rakyat receive enough “dedak” to believe they are being protected.

The politicians fight over the “periuk nasi”.

Perhaps the real question for Malaysia is no longer, “Which race is winning?” but rather, “Who is truly winning from the politics of race and religion?”

The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the writer and do not represent those of Twentytwo13.