CONSOCIATIONALISM, in political scientist Arend Ljiphart’s terms, is a government characterised by stable power-sharing arrangements between elites representing the interests of their respective communities. The advantage of this model is that it can contain the destabilising effects of political competition in fragmented societies.

With its ethnicity-based parties that basically reflect the nation’s social demography, Barisan Nasional was, for a long time, regarded as the archetypical model of consociationalism. When Malaysia experienced its first change of government last year, analysts debated whether our unique model of consociationalism ended with the coalition’s loss.

Some said BN’s fate doesn’t matter as consociationalism continues to survive because communal representation is maintained through Pakatan Harapan, which, barring pact component PKR and ally Parti Warisan Sabah, still has a clear ethnic slant. The argument goes that consociationalism can now, in fact, thrive, for the end of Umno’s hegemony is when true power-sharing between parties can begin.

Those with a less positive outlook point out that the end of BN rule also means a previously stable, inclusive power-sharing agreement is now open to the vagaries of electoral outcomes. The government-in-waiting, namely the Umno and PAS partnership, is mono-ethnic and mono-religious. Even if the unity government will inevitably involve some East Malaysian parties, the multicultural big tent of BN is clearly not coming back.

In any case, a careful study of our history will show that the collapse of BN’s consociational model did not happen in just one general election. The question now is, can PH rebuild that model in its own image?

Recent events have shown that significant challenges abound. This is because the demise of BN’s consociationalism is not just due to an electoral defeat, but rather, the disintegration of the model’s fundamental principle, that is, elites’ legitimacy in the articulation and negotiation of communal interests. To put it simply, one communal grouping (mainly race, but increasingly, religion) is corralled into one voice through one party that engages in inter-group negotiations within the coalition.

This is not to say our communities have necessarily grown more sophisticated, in that there are more intra-group differences now. Nor am I saying identity politics no longer matter, hence, we can do away with racial politics (all signs point to the contrary, actually). But one important change has happened, which is that the elites’ grip on their respective communal groupings has loosened considerably.

This can be seen in the ineffective management of the Zakir Naik and khat/Jawi situations by the PH government, which still employs the consociational logic, where communal “leaders” try to calm their communities down, but to no avail. Incidents that should have ended with early compromises and self-restraint, have boiled into a social media-powered, identity politics-driven, post-truth-fuelled rage. The clearest example was how Iskandar Puteri MP Lim Kit Siang, whose party, DAP, won an overwhelming majority of the Chinese vote, was heckled in his own constituency over the khat issue. The sharp contrast between Najib Razak’s intense unpopularity as prime minister then and his “Malu Apa, Bossku?” celebrity status now signals not so much the man’s redemption, but rather, the strategic hedging of voters, whose allegiance can no longer be taken for granted.

It is true that the arrival of social media has undermined the conditions necessary for successful consociationalism. The speed with which information (and disinformation) travels undercuts the safe space and patience needed for any successful negotiation of difficult matters to happen. The ability of social media to act as a vehicle for expression and representation also hijacks the political party’s traditional role as the “voice” of the community.

Social media allows like-minded individuals to organise within their own little circles easily, challenging the assumption that one community speaks only in one voice. And if it can’t, what’s stopping those who speak the loudest, often “hate entrepreneurs” looking to capitalise on a given situation, from fomenting more chaos, fear and anger to hijack and monopolise the national sentiment?

And yet, the fragmentation within communal groupings has not reduced Malaysians’ propensity to racialise issues. We have seen how road rage incidents can become a sour point for race relations. One may even argue that it is the anxiety driven by this sense of disunity within the community that augments the expression of identity claims, which unfortunately often operates on a zero-sum logic that requires the demonisation of other social groups.

In such a climate, bad apples can easily derail consensus-building processes, particularly if the synergy between social media and clicks-chasing news continues to give publicity to these actors. It’s one thing to urge for general calm and restraint, but it’s another to ask everyone to behave responsibly, which is a practical impossibility, with or without the covert operations of saboteurs. If political leaders lose their legitimacy to be the “face” of the community negotiating on the group’s behalf, then, the collective becomes the representation of itself. But if everyone thinks that they speak for the community, then, no one really can. Given these pressures, the consensus-building advantage of consociationalism dissipates.

The irony in all of this is that the erosion of consociationalism comes from the emergence of a more democratic ecosystem. The loss of cohesion within old communal boundaries is a product of the individual voter recognising their own sovereignty instead of pandering to clannish, feudalistic loyalties, though the effects of previous decades of social engineering remain. The focus on rights instead of responsibility is also a reflection of contemporary discourses on democratisation, where rights are prized above everything else, even to deleterious outcomes. The problem of “uncivil society” that Indonesia faces – paradoxically, after the Suharto regime collapsed – is a good example.

I want to be clear that I am not advocating a return to a more pristine, less chaotic past, which exists nowhere but in our rose-tinted memory. But diminishing authority is such a central feature of the postmodern world that both supporters and sceptics of consociationalism must take it seriously. It is outside the frame of this article to propose solutions, but I will make two suggestions.

First, the central management of issues has to stop. One-size-fits-all policy prescriptions can easily unleash dissatisfaction among a diverse pool of stakeholders, as seen in the khat/Jawi case. The government must be more open to flexible and decentralised decision-making. Localise policy interventions as much as possible, not nationalise them.

Second, and I hope this is being done with the introduction of civics education, is that we must inculcate a sense of awareness about rights and responsibility in a society such as ours. However, the curriculum must not be a paean to slogans favoured by authoritarians, such as “Asian” values or that “individual freedoms are always a threat to society”. It must be up to date and refined enough to accommodate delicate discussions on facts and values, the individual and the collective, state and society, and citizenship and identity.

Combining these two proposals, it seems that getting teacher-training right should be the focus, instead of pestering about what our students should or should not learn. A good teacher can deliver the most decentralised and responsible education there is. Their legacy will survive, whatever our political system may be. – August 27, 2019.

* A Forensic Science-Asian Studies hybrid, Nicholas Chan is interested in how authority is shaped, exercised, and more importantly, resisted in Southeast Asia.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.