IF there is one silver lining for the pandemic, the need for almost universal application of the same rules has revealed how rules don’t evenly apply in Malaysia.

With that comes the popularisation of the term ‘antara dua darjat’, satirising the perceived double standards that seemingly benefitted not just politicians but also celebrities.

I believe the origins of the term came from a P. Ramlee film, the plot for which shows how class divisions are as unfair as they are violent.

Whereas this kind of trenchant critique remains a rarity in our highly censored media landscape, the relatively egalitarian social space empowered by social media means we see more critique (and critics) now than ever.

Some friends view this development positively. After all, they see it as a coming together of the rakyat; a rare instance where our communal differences can be put aside for much-needed class solidarity.

This form of solidarity is desperately needed not just because of how the rules are imposed unevenly, but also because of how the socio-economic effects of the pandemic were felt unevenly in Malaysia.

The argument goes, if we don’t band together, who is going to make sure our (as in the masses) interests are taken care of?

Yet, having a sense of class-based differential treatment does not automatically translate into class consciousness and mobilisation, more so given a historical legacy that saw socialist politics being decimated and demonised in Malaysia.

Put differently, a sense of “antara dua darjat” only made clear to the layperson what power and wealth can buy you in Malaysia.

It still does not resolve the question to whom political power should go. It is underneath this question the fault lines between our communal groups persist – more so when the wounds tore open during the turbulent period that led to the Pakatan Harapan government’s downfall – and have not been mended yet.

If anything, recent political developments have indicated that racial sentiments will be played up again soon, so that some parties will get in line (and some left at the back) for so-called exclusivist visions of “unity”.

Between system unresponsiveness and unpopular politicians

It is no doubt that ‘antara dua darjat’ politics has stemmed from a profound sense of political disillusionment. You can’t blame Malaysians for being disillusioned when the recent wave of Covid-19 cases (one we are still struggling to keep down) came from the shenanigans of politicians, but such disillusionment can be co-opted into different causes depending on how the sentiment is framed.

For instance, seeing the problem as politics being unresponsive is very different from seeing it as politicians being unpopular. 

Those who see the problem as politics being unresponsive places focus on the “why” question: why doesn’t our political system correspond to our needs, or our sense of fairness?

They try to diagnose the problem in terms of the kind of people that were elected; the accountability mechanisms that connect government to people; and the decision-making and resource allocation arrangements that enable timely and sensitive responses.

While operating from a place of disillusionment, such thinking is under no illusions that the solution can ever be found outside of the space between the politician and the people.

In other words, it re-energises politics because it still believes in the political realm as a way to close this gap between the two “darjat”.

On the other hand, those who find fault with the political class for being unpopular are primarily concerned with the “who” question: in whom should we place our faith?

Who deserves our adulation and support? This led to more celebrity-style politics, as disillusionment was understood as a problem of politics lacking appeal and not politics lacking solutions and accountability.

That being said, turning politics into celebrity is perhaps understandable, given how strongly politics is integrated with the attention economy these days, but living in a time where Parliament is suspended, there is always the risk that politics is reduced to just that.

Our expectation of the politician is confined to his/her antics and stunts and not the policy roles they serve.

The celebrity factor, even as it gains political mileage for some politicians, also exposes them to competition from a different set of elites.

For example, we have seen a wide array of aristocratic, religious, and corporate elites who, notwithstanding their intentions, have amassed a following based on the appeal (and sometimes aggrandising claims) that they can help, understand, or represent the people, despite not being members of the party machine.

In other words, the sentiments of “antara dua darjat” don’t necessarily fuel people empowerment. It can just as easily create more intra-elite competition by giving a leg-up to those who say their credentials are “outside of politics” even if most of these figures are, at best, only half a toe removed.

The two risks of celebrity politics

Addressing the problem of “antara dua darjat” through a popularity contest is ultimately a quest for depoliticisation – and with it comes two risks.

The first is political stagnation. If solving the “antara dua darjat” problem is about throwing our lot behind a popular figure (who is most likely an elite), we merely reinforce the problem, because in creating celebrities, we are also creating the conditions for special treatment (read: double standards).

As we move from searching for solutions to searching for celebrities – more so when many of these celebrities do not even hold political office to begin with – we disregard the significance of the political office for that of the personality.

In thinking that the politician can function without properly responsive institutions and properly functioning legislature (which they are technically locked out of now), we risk normalising the status quo.

The status quo is that we have a number of celebrities but no coherent policy response to the socio-economic woes brought on by Covid-19.

The second risk is the opposite, which is that of political volatility. If the root of the malaise of our politics is the conception that politicians are unpopular, we risk surrendering too much authority and agency towards one charismatic figure when he or she appears.

This occurs as a form of depoliticisation as well, in that we no longer believe in politics as a way of mediating differences, priorities, and resource allocation and shift towards the hopes of having a popular figure embodying all our wants, needs, and aspirations.

However, examples in Europe and the United States have shown that populist figures thrive as much on hatred as they thrive on love and adoration. Sometimes, they were even loved for the hatred they projected on vilified communities and imaginary enemies.

To add, these populist figures are mostly from the elite class, even if not from the conventional circles. They are much, much more likely to be millionaires as compared to your daily office worker.

In other words, the “antara dua darjat” issue remains. We are back to where we started, most probably after burning half the house down.

There is no question that it is good that the issue of “antara dua darjat” is gaining more public awareness, as we reckon with what our society truly is after we let the acid test of ‘can equal rules be equally applied’ burn through.

However, “likes” generating celebrity politics are not helping us to close that gap, because what we see on Facebook or Instagram is not where the decisions that truly impact us are made.

Our politics is what locks us away from where those decisions are made.

It is only through politics can we get that space back. – April 15, 2021.

* 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.