Introduction

The Democratic Action Party (DAP) has long been a dominant force in Malaysia’s political landscape, particularly among the urban and ethnic Chinese electorate.

Founded in 1966, it advocates a centre-left, social democratic platform and was historically associated with the “Malaysian Malaysia” slogan – championing equal rights regardless of ethnicity.

For decades, it functioned as a principal opposition force against the long-ruling Barisan Nasional (BN) coalition and, more specifically, against the Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA), BN’s Chinese-based component party.

DAP’s confrontational stance and vocal defence of Chinese education and civil liberties earned it both staunch support among Chinese voters and criticism as being anti-Malay or anti-Islam.

In recent years, however, DAP has transitioned from its traditional oppositionist posture to a key partner in Malaysia’s ruling coalition under Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim’s Madani government. Meanwhile, its recent internal election signifies DAP’s evolving ideological identity and strategic repositioning, particularly in relation to ethnic representation and governance.

New Election, New Era

DAP concluded what is arguably the most intense internal party election in its history on 16 March 2025.

There are three noteworthy points to be analysed.

First, the results mark a symbolic end to the era dominated by the Lim family, signalling a generational transition in leadership and political strategy.

The most notable development was the removal of Lim Guan Eng from his position as national chairman—a shift popularly described within the party as “sending off the god”.

Lim, who served as secretary general from 2004 to 2022, barely retained his seat in the 30-member Central Executive Committee (CEC), placing 26^th out of 30. His sister, Lim Hui Ying – Malaysia’s Deputy Finance Minister – failed to secure reelection despite the existence of a female candidate quota.

Other close allies of the Lim faction, such as Teresa Kok (MP for Seputeh, Kuala Lumpur Territory) and Lim Lip Eng (MP for Kepong, Kuala Lumpur Territory), were similarly defeated.

In the run-up to the election, the Lim family launched a “Kit Siang’s birthday tour” to galvanise grassroots support for Guan Eng’s continued leadership—a move interpreted as a pre-emptive bid to maintain influence amid waning support, yet it does not seem to be working out in favour of Lim’s family.

Gobind Singh Deo, son of the late party icon Karpal Singh, received the highest number of votes for the second consecutive election and was appointed as the new party chairman.

The secretary general role remains with Anthony Loke, who is also Malaysia’s Minister of Transport. He has formally succeeded Lim Guan Eng in 2022.

This leadership reshuffle effectively ends the Lim dynasty’s hold over the party. For context, Lim Kit Siang, the family patriarch, served as secretary general for 30 years and as chairman for an additional five years until his retirement in 2022.

Table 1. List of the newly elected CEC members, their ages and the votes obtained

Second, the election outcomes do not only represent a shift away from the Lim family but also indicate a broader generational and ideological renewal within the party.

The new CEC is largely composed of MPs or State Assembly representatives in their 30s and 40s, many of whom grew up during DAP’s rise to national prominence and tasted political power during the party’s brief stint in government (2018–2020).

This younger cohort is more open to engaging Malay voters directly and is working to project a more inclusive, multiracial image. Their multilingual capabilities and cross-ethnic social networks enhance DAP’s strategic goal of becoming a truly Malaysian party.

The rebranding is particularly significant in combatting long-standing accusations of Chinese chauvinism and in adapting to Malaysia’s deeply communal political terrain.

Third, a significant milestone in this party election is the inclusion of two Malay leaders – Syahredzan Johan (MP for Bangi, Selangor state) and Young Syefura Othman (MP for Bentong, Pahang state) – in the CEC. They garnered 2,065 and 1,943 votes, respectively. Syahredzan was appointed as one of the party’s four vice chairmen, while Young Syefura became assistant publicity secretary.

In previous party elections, Young Syefura was the sole Malay representative in the leadership. The dual election of Malay leaders signals DAP’s strategic recalibration: it recognises that it could no longer rely solely on urban, Chinese-majority constituencies. As many as 96% of Chinese voted for DAP in the 2022 general election, whereas only 18% of Malays voted for DAP.

While no official data exists on DAP’s Malay membership, Syahredzan has already announced efforts to recruit more Malay members and voters. These appointments reflect the party’s understanding of the demographic and electoral imperatives of a Malay-dominated society—and an electoral system that rewards broad-based, interethnic appeal.

Between Muting and Maturing

As DAP transitions to a new generation of leadership, the party faces a delicate balancing act: sustaining the loyalty of its traditional Chinese support base while expanding its appeal among Malay and other non-Chinese voters. This requires not only a shift in rhetoric but also demonstrable commitment to inclusive governance and coalition pragmatism.

Moreover, the party’s entry into the unity government has already been met with mixed reactions, particularly from its core Chinese electorate. While the party continues to enjoy overwhelming Chinese support, it has been notably subdued on issues historically central to its platform—such as Chinese vernacular education and minority rights. Critics have even labelled it “a silent party”.

Hence, the party’s current dilemma is how to avoid becoming an “MCA 2.0”—a euphemism for being seen as compliant or ineffective within a Malay-majority government.

Being in power means DAP can no longer simply critique from the sidelines; it must deliver tangible results. If it fails, it risks losing credibility and electoral support.

Nevertheless, the prospect of Chinese voters shifting back to MCA remains unlikely. A more probable outcome would be voter apathy and abstention.

The deeper challenge lies in how DAP balances its “Malaysian Malaysia” ideals within the constraints of Malaysia’s racially stratified political landscape. Its transition from antagonist to conformist illustrates the compromises required under coalition governance. Whether DAP can maintain ideological clarity while expanding its electoral reach remains to be seen.

In short, DAP’s future depends on whether it can reconcile its activist roots with the compromises of coalition politics without losing the ideological clarity that once defined it. If it can achieve this balance, DAP may yet complete its transformation into a truly national party with multiracial appeal. If not, it risks fading into the same irrelevance that befell the very parties it once opposed.

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Introduction

In the tome Terengganu Darul Iman 1881-1936, written by Muhammad Yusoff Hashim, he wrote:

                Bersuka-sukaan di sana ia

                dua tiga orang matinya sahaya

                dibeli pula yang maha mulia

                beberapa cariat muda belia.

                Kulitnya hitam warna gelat

                berkilat pandang seperti shakhalat

                kedua mata putihnya bulat

                rambut seperti di sarang ulat.

                Gemar melihat mahkota negeri

                kulitnya hitam tiada berperi

                diajar pelayan di dalam qasri

                sangat dikasih muda bestari.

                Tiadalah hamba memanjangkan cerita

                di sana tidak lama sang nata

                lepas mengambil haji yang nyata

                kembalilah ia semua serta.

                Di negeri Terengganu tempat sedia

                menderulah datang hamba dan sahaya

                serta kaum kerabat dia

                mengunjungi datang di tanah bahagia.

Hashim wrote about the arrival of dark-skinned slaves, who aroused the curiosity and later acceptance from Terengganu locals. Was this just a story, or were there bondsmen from the Middle East and Africa who lived in the state?

–

When I was a child, my holidays in Gong Kapas, Terengganu, were marked by imaginary adventures or passive curiosity of the neighbourhood. I would stay with my grandparents and their youngest children – and of course my mother – while my father worked abroad. As I grew older, any holiday or reason to go back to Terengganu would see us there.

At that time, in the 1970s and 80s, Gong Kapas was green and lush. My late grandparents’ home was covered with mango and rambutan trees, and behind the house was a wall with an opening to the house behind us. Cats and kittens scampered about. From time to time, goats sauntered in and out of the compound. My late grandmother employed quite a number of maids and help who cooked, massaged, and observed the goings-on in the house. The people from the back of the house trooped into Toknda’s house too to exchange gossip, news and – of course – food.

I was quite young that time, but I was always at the back of the house, because the cats and food were there. My babysitter and the maids would congregate to talk about their men and ghosts. Occasionally, a tall, dark-skinned woman would pop her head in, speak softly, and leave. We never spoke. But I remembered that my cousin, Nadia, would go over to the house behind; she was friendly with the tall lady. That was all I knew of her.

—

By 2006, I was in my mid-20s. I visited Terengganu a lot while my grandparents were still alive. One evening, I was in the garden – which was now a rather strange rock garden – and went inside for a drink. That was when I saw the tall lady, waving at me from outside her window, motioning to me to meet her. I left the kitchen to meet her at the back entrance of her home, thinking throughout the whole process about how very tall she was.

She asked me if I was the grandchild of (now deceased) Tengku Asmak, who was a writer. I nodded.

She asked me to come into her house. In her spare kitchen, she asked me if I knew who and what she was. I shook my head. I only knew that she was called Ya and I assumed she was a very tall Indian Muslim.

She smiled and told me she was an African slave, who came from Mecca.

Terengganu in Brief

To understand Terengganu is to understand its history, which scholars such as the abovementioned Yusoff Hashim have explored in detail.

In his book Terengganu Darul Iman: Tradisi Pensejarahan Malaysia, he describes Terengganu’s geographical challenges that include strong north-east monsoon winds, rough seas and annual floods. These natural conditions shaped the livelihoods of its people, with fishing, skilled labour and farming being the primary occupations. In 1921, the population stood at 66,135, increasing to 95,800 by 1931, with Terengganu town housing around 12,453 residents.

The Terengganu Sultanate traces its origins back to the 18^th century, with 17 sultans ruling since its inception. Mubin Sheppard (1949) details its founding, linking it to Johor’s Bendahara dynasty. In 1718, Sultan Abdul Jalil of Johor was exiled by Raja Kechil, who claimed descent from Malacca’s Sultan Mahmud Mangkat Dijulang. Sultan Abdul Jalil took refuge in Terengganu but was assassinated in 1721. His son, Tengku Sulaiman, allied with Bugis warrior Daeng Perani to reclaim Johor. According to Tuhfat Al-Nafis, Sultan Sulaiman, with Bugis support, appointed his uncle, Tun Zainal Abidin, as Terengganu’s first sultan in 1725.

Patani tradition states that he fled to Patani after his adoptive father, Wan Derahman, was wrongly executed and was sheltered by the ruling Queen Nang Chayam. During Sultan Abdul Jalil’s visit to Patani, an agreement was made to divide Johor’s territories, with Terengganu assigned to Tun Zainal Abidin. After Abdul Jalil’s death, Patani honoured the deal, sending Tun Zainal Abidin and 80 Patani families to Terengganu, where he was installed as sultan. He further strengthened ties by marrying the queen’s cousin, Che Puan Besar. The settlement, Kampong Patani, still exists today.

One of the most well-known rulers was Sultan Zainal Abidin III who ruled from 1881 to 1918. His reign marked Terengganu’s transition from a nominal vassal of Siam to an Unfederated Malay State under British protection. He was known for his charisma, personal adherence to Islamic law and efforts to modernise Terengganu. Breaking from isolationist policies, he embraced reforms and welcomed foreigners. He maintained Terengganu’s independence by showcasing historical manuscripts proving sovereignty and resisting British interference. With the support of religious leader Tok Ku Sayyid Paloh and noble Haji Ngah Muhammad, he opposed colonial control.

Despite his efforts, the 1909 British-Siamese Agreement was signed without Terengganu’s knowledge, placing the state under British influence. Sultan Zainal Abidin III countered by introducing Itqan al-Muluk (Terengganu State Constitution) in 1911, ensuring leadership followed Quranic principles and upheld Malay-Islamic identity. He passed away on 26 November 1918 at the age of 54, deeply mourned by his people.

His successor, Sultan Muhammad Shah II, was born on 1 May 1889 in Kuala Terengganu to Cik Khalthum binti Haji Daud, also known as Cik Istana. His reign was short-lived due to British pressure. The 1918 Bucknill Commission investigated his rule, citing mismanagement, particularly in land and mining concessions. British officials deemed him illiterate and temperamental, justifying their intervention. In 1919, he was forced to accept a British Adviser, officially integrating Terengganu into the British Empire. Struggling under colonial oversight, he abdicated after 18 months in favour of his brother, Sultan Sulaiman Badrul Alam Syah, to take control.

Sultan Sulaiman’s rule (1920–1942) saw Terengganu fall further under British control. British-backed officials attempted but failed to install Tengku Besar Mahmud, a prince of full royal blood (meaning both his parents were of royal descent), as sultan. His reign was marked by natural disasters, including the devastating 1926–1927 floods, and peasant uprisings led by Haji Abdul Rahman Limbong against British taxation policies. The Japanese invasion in 1941 worsened conditions – he died in 1942. His son, Sultan Ali, was later dethroned in 1945 due to a series of alleged misconducts – from holding wild parties, associating with unsavory women, to being pro-Japanese – and was replaced by his uncle, Sultan Ismail Nasiruddin.

The early 20^th century was a turbulent period in Terengganu’s history, marked by frequent shifts in power. Foreign pressures from British colonial administrators and Thailand played a significant role in shaping the decisions of Terengganu’s rulers. The legacy of Sultan Zainal Abidin III endured, as three of his sons became sultans, each navigating the challenges of British colonisation and governance. The evolution of Terengganu from an independent sultanate to a British protectorate, and eventually a part of Malaysia, was deeply influenced by the strength, or weakness, of its rulers. Ultimately, Terengganu’s history is inseparable from the story of its sultans, whose leadership defined its fate.

The Slave Trade in the Malay World: A Global Context

The story of slavery in the Malay world is a truly global one. It is one that can be told alongside the story of how trade and ideas came from the Middle East to the people of Southeast Asia. It is a tale of intricate networks, of characters from all walks of life, told within a wide context that sees the overlapping of religion, local and international geopolitics and economics.

By looking at slavery in a Malay(sian) context, we gain insight into a new history, one that brings together themes that are familiar to us. We are talking about European imperialism, cosmopolitanism, trade networks, Islam, Malay identity and even Malay power. It also involved non-Europeans and local traders who were heavily involved in the trade of slaves, namely from East Africa.

For decades, scholarship on slavery has mainly concentrated on the Atlantic trade. In recent years, however, scholars are looking at other geographical contexts for slavery, especially eastwards, from East Africa, through the Middle East, down the Indian Ocean and to the Malay Archipelago.

The Indian Ocean has emerged as a new context of study. This mass body of ocean has been a witness to the movements of peoples and goods, facilitating travel, trade and even colonialism. Scholars such as Amal Ghazal and Fahad Bishara have contributed to this field by examining the trade networks that connected various points along the Indian Ocean, from Zanzibar to the Indian continent. Slavery scholars are also beginning to look at this context to broaden the global scope of slavery’s history.

The demand for slave labour from East Africa stemmed from the expansion of European-controlled plantations in the 18^th century. In the French-held Mascarenes islands (the group of islands of which Mauritius belongs to), slaves from the East African coast were trafficked to the sugar plantations there. Plantations owned by Arab Muslims growing cloves and dates in the East African islands of Zanzibar and Pemba in the Persian Gulf region also increased the demand for slaves. Demand increased even further with the growing dominance of the British in the region who wanted to maintain their imperial control by propping up slave dependent economies. Slaves did not only appear on plantations, but also in other places too, from factories to the household.

When the European powers arrived, they took slaves from the eastern part of Dutch East Indies (Indonesia) and southern India as a labour force for their newly conquered and established cities in Asia. The Dutch relied extensively on the populations of Batavia to work on building sites or warehouses. Some of them were also owned property of Dutch citizens.

The African slave trade started in the 15^th century, when European powers expanded their lands in the Americas. They traded with local African leaders along the Western coast of Africa, gaining slaves to be brought across the Atlantic to work on European-owned plantations in the Atlantic coast of the Americas and on the Caribbean islands. However, it did not take long until the Europeans started trading slaves from the eastern coast of Africa eastwards for their possessions in the Indian Ocean.

For instance, the Portuguese were the first to bring slaves from Mozambique and Madagascar over to South Asia. Hundreds of thousands of Africans were taken and forcibly resettled on this route, as claimed by Shihan de Silva Jayasuriya. Termed Afro-Asian communities in India, they can be found in Gujarat and Karnataka, the two coastal states facing the eastern coast of Africa.

However, slavery in Southeast Asia cannot only be understood within the context of European imperialism. As noted by Anthony Reid, there was a “fluid spectrum” and conditions of bondage. He pointed out the ambiguous, if contradictory, position of slave – both as a property and person – as part of the household but also an outsider. In the Southeast Asian region, the concept of bondsmen, as opposed to slaves as property, had been in existence for centuries. In the Angkor court, slaves would be taken from less fixed populations, such as fishermen, cultivators and hunter-gatherers.

Furthermore, when examining slavery in Southeast Asia, it is also important to consider the role played by Islam. Stephanie Cronin has urged to move away from viewing slavery within a Eurocentric lens and to understand the institution of slavery within a religious-ideological framework. Much of how Islam and slavery is understood has been through a post-abolition Western discourse that is orientalist and othering in its approach.

In the Middle East, slavery had been in existence since ancient times. The arrival of Islam provided a new legal framework for slavery, but the practice did not die out. While domestic slaves and such were commonplace in the Muslim world, so too was the rise of elite slaves, who were taken by Islamic leaders to hold high positions in the government and military. In some cases, such as the Mamluks in Egypt, they even went on to overthrow their leaders and rule.

Muslim traders had been coming to the Malay lands along tried and tested routes through the Indian Ocean, even before the arrival of the Europeans. They were also active in the trade of slaves from East Africa. These African slaves who were brought over to Southeast Asia lived in a more open slave society, as compared to their Atlantic counterparts. Scholars such as Titas Chakraborty and Matthias van Rossum have urged the need to emphasise the local character of “Asian” slaveries. Many married into the local population and assimilated relatively well into the local population. Islamic law stipulated for fair treatment for slaves, disallowing exploitation, cruelty and prostitution. They were entitled to a formal contract and had the right to access legal aid and protection. Arab leaders took slaves from a variety of communities, including Christians in the Balkans and Africans. In Southeast Asia, local laws, from imperial Chinese ordinances to laws of the Melaka sultanate covered the rights of slaves.

Through studying the presence of African slaves in Southeast Asia, we thus gain insight into a long history that encompasses different geographic spaces that are united by trade, networks and religion across the Indian Ocean.

Agriculture has long been the backbone of Southeast Asia, contributing significantly to food security, economic stability, and rural livelihoods. The ASEAN region, rich with diverse agricultural practices and resources, faces common challenges such as climate change, urbanization, market volatility, and policy discrepancies. As countries navigate these complexities, understanding the socio-economic dimensions of agriculture within the ASEAN context becomes crucial for fostering resilience, sustainability, and collective growth.

In light of these challenges, Yayasan Strategik Lestari (YSL) and stratsea are honored to create a platform for dialogue and knowledge exchange to achieve three primary aspirations: to cultivate a society that understands international relations, to identify Malaysia’s role in addressing agricultural socio-economic issues through expert perspectives, and to gather recommendations for further research and policy benchmarking.

The webinar will delve into critical questions such as:

• What are the socio-economic dynamics shaping ASEAN’s agricultural sector?

• How can collaboration among ASEAN countries enhance agricultural productivity and resilience?

• What policy interventions are necessary to address the impacts of climate change and market volatility on the region’s food security?

• How can Southeast Asia harness its agricultural diversity for mutual benefit and sustainable development?

Webinar Details

Date: Friday, 11 April 2025

Time: 09:30 AM (Indonesia/Thailand) / 10:30 AM (Malaysia/Philippines/Singapore)

Speaker Details

Dr. Dona Laily Wahyuning is a prominent scholar in agribusiness management, specializing in agricultural competitiveness, trade dynamics, and rural socioeconomics. As Head of the Agribusiness Management Laboratory at Universitas Pembangunan Nasional Veteran Jawa Timur, her research offers valuable insights into Indonesia’s agricultural landscape and its regional implications.

Among her notable works is the analysis of rice farming competitiveness in Bojonegoro Regency, which explores strategies to enhance productivity and resilience in one of Indonesia’s key rice-producing areas. She has also examined factors influencing rice imports in Indonesia, shedding light on trade policies and food security challenges. Additionally, her study on the competitiveness of Indonesian cloves compared to Tanzania and Madagascar provides critical perspectives on global spice markets and Indonesia’s position within them.

Dr. Dona’s research reflects a deep commitment to strengthening agricultural resilience and market performance, making her a valuable voice in advancing sustainable agricultural development across ASEAN.

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Evolution

Stigma continues to overshadow conversations on mental health in Malaysia, often framing mental health disturbances as tests of resilience. Meanwhile, those who seek help – whether professional or not – continue to be viewed as weak individuals that could bring shame upon their family. Such an “obligation” to quietly endure one’s life challenges is deep-rooted in Malaysia’s cultural norm, with some individuals potentially taking pride in it.

This has left little room for open conversations about mental wellbeing in the country, though recent years show that there is a powerful cultural shift. What has driven this transformation and what challenges lie ahead?

Cultural Context

We must first acknowledge the historical context to understand this shift. In Malaysia, where there is a strong emphasis on cultural and religious norms, mental health is long considered of lesser priority to physical health.

Family members are discouraged from openly discussing their personal struggles due to the prevalence of norms such as saving face and honouring family reputation. Such norms remain deep-rooted in the Malaysian community and thus one’s admission to mental health struggles is akin to tarnishing their family’s image in front of the wider community.

The norm of saving face is so ingrained in the society that major cultural proverbs or practices are associated with it.

For example, the famous prophetic hadith sabar itu separuh daripada iman (patience is half of faith) captures the Malay cultural emphasis on patience and endurance as a sign of religious strength and piety.

Meanwhile, the Chinese concept of xiao shun or filial piety reflects the importance of familial reputation and the expectation to prioritise family’s honour over personal struggles. The famous animated Disney movie Mulan captured this well, as the main character struggles to bring honour to her family by challenging the society’s standards of what is considered honourable.

On the other hand, among the Indian communities in Malaysia, there is a tendency to approach mental health challenges through a spiritual lens, whereby personal struggles are often associated to karma, divine punishment or unbalanced spiritual practice. Consequently, such an approach encourages a dependence on religious solutions to address the problem, instead of seeking advice from professionals.

There is a silver lining across all three: these sayings and perspectives may discourage those with mental health challenges from openly discussing them. This is a problem prevalent not only in Malaysia but also in other parts of Asia, where mental health disturbance is more often than not attributed to weakness in character rather than a legitimate health concern. Moreover, the lack of familiarity with the mental health concept among older generations often leads to chronic underreporting and lack of treatment.

Fortunately, there are signs that this trend is shifting. Institutions and organisations such as Mental Illness Awareness & Support Association (MIASA), the National Association of Christian Counsellors Malaysia (NACC Malaysia) and the Kuala Lumpur Buddhist Mental Health Association have started integrating spiritual therapy and counselling into their mental health services.

Such progress received a boost during the pandemic when there was a hike in the number of people suffering from stress, anxiety and depression. On the flipside, this was perhaps a blessing in disguise: During this period, the government increased funding for mental health needs, having recognised this growing problem as a public priority.

These steps emit a positive signal of the changing conversation surrounding mental health in Malaysia – that it is acceptable to seek help and that silence should not be the norm.

Despite this, Malaysia’s vibrant social media continues to pose risks as well as afford opportunities to the country’s mental health landscape.

The Two Sides of Social Media

Social media does pose risks to one’s mental health, with problems such as online bullying, data breaches and exposure to negative content. Within Malaysia’s younger communities, what should we be looking out for?

The comparison trap is the first instance. Platforms like Instagram and TikTok could instigate one to engage in constant self-comparison due to the promotion of idealised portrayals of life by other users and influencers. For example, trends like the “that girl” aesthetic on TikTok showcase luxury lifestyles with unrealistic living standards that do not sit well with the lived reality of the B40 and middle-class communities in Malaysia. Contents promoted by the algorithm also often leave viewers feeling inadequate and adds the continuous stress of meeting an unattainable lifestyle.

In general, over 60% of youth reported their lives were lacking compared to others, creating a strong urge to stay connected online and avoid experiencing the fear of missing out (FOMO). Malaysian youths are also susceptible to this, with the community already being pressured to excel academically and professionally.

Doomscrolling is another issue. It is an endless consumption of content on social media, which could leave a user losing hours of life in a day. Doomscrolling could intensify feelings of fear and insecurity, especially if a user falls into the comparison trap discussed above.

The effect could be worse if the content is negative and distressing in nature, such as political brouhaha or visuals of Israel’s carnage in Gaza. In Malaysia’s context, prolonged exposure to sensationalised news like Malaysia’s political instability and economic challenges only increases anxiety, depression, and a sense of helplessness.

Mental health challenges, unfortunately, have also prompted individuals to seek information online and engage in self-diagnosis. This could be a problem, especially since there is so much false information spreading online whereas mental health diagnosis requires a professional touch. Wrongful self-diagnosis could also lead to misguided treatments that further complicate the problem. It has to be acknowledged that the tendency to self-diagnose could be born out of fear of being stigmatised by the society, as discussed above.

These, however, should not erase its positive contributions.

Platforms such as Facebook, Instagram and TikTok have provided Malaysians (especially younger ones) with a safe space to find support during challenging times. This has also ushered in the burgeoning of mental health influencers as well as online advocates such as Dr Joel Low, Tengku Puteri Iman Afzan, Che Puan Sarimah Ibrahim and Dr Amer Siddiq in the last few years. All of them have encouraged conversations around this topic that was once considered taboo.

The growing acceptance of mental health discourse in social media has made it easier for Malaysians to acknowledge that they are not alone in their struggles. There are positive examples of how this has manifested lately.

The #KitaJagaKita campaign during the pandemic shows the power of social media to transform community-based pandemic relief initiative into a nationwide movement centred around mutual care and wellbeing. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Health’s TikTok campaign offered information regarding suicide prevention resources to stave off the alarming increase of  the suicide rate during the pandemic. The Ministry also hosted live sessions featuring mental health professionals to help the audience address the pressure on their mental health as they navigated the lockdown.

All in all, these activities and campaigns have contributed to the destigmatisation of mental health but also enabled access to mental health resources such as the Malaysian Mental Health Association (MMHA) and Befrienders.

We should thus acknowledge that social media can be a double-edged sword in relation to mental health. Responsible use of social media is thus a solution for Malaysians to be able to navigate the risks while benefitting from its boon. When used mindfully, social media can serve as a powerful tool for raising awareness and connecting Malaysians with support networks and coping resources.

Way Forward

This article aims to portray a fraction of the mental health landscape in Malaysia. While cultural barriers remain, there are trends challenging these that help destigmatise mental health conversations in the country. Though social media poses risks, it has proven instrumental in enabling open conversations, connecting users to online resources and shifting attitudes towards this “taboo” subject. Any mental health-related campaign in Malaysia could benefit immensely from the opportunities that it affords.  

Moving forward, a focus on increasing digital literacy is critical to building a healthier and more inclusive mental health culture. These efforts ensure that mental health becomes as equally prioritised as physical health, fostering a community where openness and compassion define resilience. While the journey toward mental health acceptance is ongoing, each step forward brings us closer to a culture that embraces vulnerability and openness as signs of strength.

Introduction

In the age of mercantilism, economic dominance was not merely about trade—it was enforced through brute military strength.

European empires deployed gunboats to the coasts of nations, coercing them into opening markets, signing lopsided treaties or even submitting to colonial rule.

The Opium Wars of the 19^th century stand as a stark example—when China resisted British trade demands, gunboats rained fire upon its ports, forcing the Middle Kingdom to cede Hong Kong and open its economy on unfavourable terms.

Power was exercised through the barrel of a cannon while nations bent under the weight of superior firepower.

Today, the battlefield has shifted, but the objective remains the same: influence, control and dominance. Gunboats no longer dictate policies; instead, social media does.

The rise of digital platforms has created a new arsenal of influence operations—one where narratives, not naval fleets, determine the direction of entire countries. Algorithms replace admirals and viral trends become the new cannonballs.

Those who can shape public opinion can shape long-lasting policies. No warships needed; no shots fired—yet the effects can be far more enduring. A single viral campaign can sway elections, overturn governments or redefine national identities.

The ASEAN Landscape

In ASEAN, where youth make up a significant portion of the population and digital adoption is at an all-time high, this reality is unfolding at an unprecedented pace.

From likes to legislation, the power once wielded by empires through brute force is now in the hands of millions of young, digitally empowered individuals. What they believe, share and push into the mainstream today will become the policies that shape their nations tomorrow.

ASEAN’s economic rise has been nothing short of remarkable. In 2024, the region contributed 7.2% of the global economy and was responsible for 8.6% of the world’s GDP growth over the past decade.

With a combined GDP projected to reach US$4.25 trillion by 2025, ASEAN is on the verge of surpassing major economies and cementing itself among the world’s top five economic powerhouses.

This growth is not merely a statistic—it is reshaping global supply chains, investment flows and economic alliances.

Unlike the aging economies of Europe, where labour shortages are becoming a structural problem, ASEAN enjoys a demographic advantage. With a median age of just 31, its workforce is young, vibrant and digitally connected.

The contrast with Europe, where the median age is over 40, is stark. While Western nations grapple with declining birth rates and economic stagnation, ASEAN’s youths are driving an unprecedented wave of innovation, entrepreneurship and consumption. This demographic dividend is fuelling the rise of a powerful middle class, which is expected to reach 350 million people by 2030—larger than the entire population of the United States today.

These are all concrete indicators which enable the possibility of a digital revolution which squarely puts power and influence in the hands of the digitally savvy young generation.

Youth’s Digital Revolution

Over the past decade, the digital landscape in the ASEAN region has undergone a significant transformation, marked by substantial increases in internet access, mobile phone usage and social media engagement among young people.

In 2013, the average internet penetration rate in ASEAN was approximately 34%. By 2021, this figure had more than doubled, reaching 73%. This surge reflects the region’s rapid digital adoption and infrastructure development.

A study conducted in 2019 revealed that 97.5% of Thai high school students owned smartphones, while in Indonesia between 2013 and 2018, smartphone ownership among young adults (ages 18-34) surged from 17% to 66%.

To compound on to this trend, the average youths spend close to five hours a day on their smartphones, thus making them the most digitally reliant generation.

The omnipresence of youths on social media has blunt the influence of mainstream media which in nascent democracies are largely controlled by the government or its cronies.

In Malaysia, for over six decades, the Barisan Nasional (BN) coalition maintained political dominance, partly by controlling mainstream media narratives. The BN government either directly controlled the mainstream media through its ownership of news agencies like The Star and Bernama, or indirectly through strict media licensing laws that promote censorship.

Billionaires linked to the government through monopoly-like multibillion dollar concessions also owned other major media houses.

However, in the lead-up to the 14^th general election (GE14), social media platforms emerged as vital arenas for political discourse, especially among the younger demographic, thus breaking the long-held information monopoly.   

A study analysing 187 news pieces from six online news platforms during the 11-day campaign period highlighted that social media was effectively utilised to influence public perception.

Key issues such as the Goods and Services Tax (GST), the 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB) scandal, and the reputations of political candidates were extensively discussed online, contributing to a wave of political dissent and activism.

This online engagement played a crucial role in shifting public sentiment, leading to BN’s unprecedented electoral defeat.

This was particularly evident on the night before voting, whereby the prime minister candidate for the opposition directly communicated to the public via a Facebook-live event, a feat that was viewed by more than 220,000 people and reached 10 million people in less than 24 hours.

This last figure was more than half of the voting population. Comparably, the then sitting prime minister, who enjoyed the full backing of the media establishment, only garnered 15,000 audience while conducting a similar event.

Knowing that the government had a solid grip on the media establishment, the opposition then actively mobilised the youths to showcase the opposition videos to their parents and grandparents via WhatsApp groups, or in-person when they meet to cast their votes. This merged the influence of social media and the youths to successfully break the government-controlled information monopoly, thus leading to a historic election win.

The same trend could be seen in Thailand. The Move Forward Party’s (MFP) rise in Thailand’s 2023 general election is a testament to the power of social media and youth-driven political engagement in disrupting traditional power structures.

Winning 151 seats, the MFP effectively leveraged digital platforms to bypass mainstream media controls and mobilise grassroots support. On election day alone, the party was mentioned over 245,932 times across social media, with post-election engagement reaching 83.4 million interactions, 70% higher than any other party.

This surge in online activism translated into real political momentum, particularly among Thailand’s younger generations. Of the 52.3 million eligible voters, nearly 44% belonged to Gen Z (18-26 years old) and millennials (27-42 years old)—the demographic that overwhelmingly backed the MFP’s progressive policies.

Their engagement contributed to a historic 75.22% voter turnout, one of the highest in Thai electoral history. Through a combination of digital mobilisation, targeted messaging and political activism, the MFP demonstrated how social media can break conventional information monopolies, empowering young voters to reshape national politics despite institutional resistance.

The Dark Side of Social Media

Social media in the hands of the youths can also be a double-edged sword. It can empower the people, but it can also be weaponised to deceive them. Nowhere is this more evident than in the whitewashing of corruption and dictatorship.

In the Philippines, the Marcos family turned social media into a propaganda machine, rewriting history and painting the brutal Marcos dictatorship as a “golden age”. YouTube and Facebook were flooded with revisionist content, downplaying human rights abuses and glorifying an era of plunder and oppression. This relentless online misinformation campaign worked—Marcos Jr. rode the wave of digital deception all the way to the presidency.

In Malaysia, Najib Razak, convicted for his role in the 1MDB scandal, used social media to rebuild his image. His “Bossku” persona on Facebook and Instagram transformed him from a disgraced leader into a man of the people. He posted selfies. He cracked jokes. He played the victim. Suddenly, he was not a kleptocrat anymore—he was a hero to many.

This is the terrifying power of social media. It does not just shape the present—it rewrites the past.

In the digital age, the erasure and rewriting of history through social media not only deceives the present but also imperils the integrity of future generations’ understanding of truth.

The youth of today are unshackled from the past. They do not carry the weight of old political battles or the emotional baggage of previous generations. History, to them, is not lived experience—it is content they consume online.

Just like how Marcos Jr. benefitted from a rewritten past, we see the same phenomenon in Malaysia with Anwar Ibrahim’s Reformasi movement. In 1998, Reformasi was a fiery rebellion against Mahathir Mohamad’s rule, marked by street protests, mass arrests and cries for justice.

For those who lived through it, Anwar was either a hero or a threat—there was no in-between. But for today’s youth, 1998 is not a memory, it is a hashtag. They see Reformasi not through the lens of those who fought for it, but through the narratives being shaped today.

The same Anwar who was once the face of resistance is now the prime minister, navigating compromises and coalitions. For the youth, the past is not set in stone—it is fluid, shaped by what trends, what gets shared and what is most convincing in the digital age.

Indonesia, ASEAN’s most populous democracy, is no different. President Prabowo Subianto’s transformation is nothing short of a political masterclass in digital rebranding. Once a controversial military figure, even banned from entering the United States, he is now Indonesia’s president—winning outright in the first round with 58.6% of the vote.

How? Social media magic. His campaign deployed the gemoy strategy, turning him from a feared general into an adorable, meme-worthy grandfather figure. Viral videos showed him dancing with his cat Bobby, AI-generated animations softened his image and TikTok flooded with content making him look fun, lovable, and approachable.

This was not just a campaign—it was a full-blown digital personality makeover. And it worked. Youth voters, who once saw him as a relic of the past, now saw him as their gemoy leader. In today’s politics, perception is reality—and social media decides both.

Final Reflections

The latest ISEAS survey in six Southeast Asian countries showed that young undergraduates rarely engage in political discussions online, with more than 50% of youths in five out of the six countries surveyed never or rarely discuss political or social issues online.

However, it fails to capture the nuances of youth activism.

Just because they do not actively post about politics does not mean they are apolitical or politically ignorant. More often than not, these youths are “lurkers” online—consuming hours of political content without actively posting. In fact, they are often more politically informed than older generations (the boomers), thanks to their constant exposure to digital information and reliance on social media as their primary news source.

This phenomenon becomes most evident during elections, when young people, once labelled as “politically disinterested”, suddenly mobilise in massive numbers to vote—often becoming the decisive force in political outcomes.

A local poll conducted just one month before Malaysia’s GE14 showed that more than 50% of youths were disinterested in politics. Yet, in less than 30 days, over 80% of young voters turned up to vote. Not only that, they also actively convinced their parents and grandparents to vote in their favour—triggering the greatest political upset in Malaysia’s electoral history.

All of these show that social media has become the new battleground for power. It can spark revolutions, rewrite history, elevate the fallen and bring down the mighty. It has given the youth of ASEAN a voice louder than ever before—a voice that can shape policies, influence elections and redefine national narratives.

But with great power comes great risk. The same platforms that expose corruption can also whitewash it. The same digital tools that empower democracy can also manipulate it.

The future of ASEAN will not be decided in old halls of power alone, but in the ever-evolving digital arenas where perception is reality and those who control the narrative control the future. The question is no longer whether social media matters—it is who masters it first.

Introduction

Despite Malaysia’s push for multiculturalism, as demonstrated by its 1999 adoption of the slogan “Malaysia Truly Asia”, members of religious minorities are struggling to reconcile this idealised narrative with their lived experience.

According to the 2020 International Religious Report, while Islam is the state religion, all religions are welcomed to worship peacefully. Malaysia is a multi-religious nation with a population made up from 60% Muslim, 20% Buddhist, 9% Christian, 6% Hindu and 1% other.

While unity is a paramount concept in Malaysia’s nation, obstacles for religious minorities abound, particularly when their faiths conflict with state-sanctioned beliefs. This may have led to the manifestation of psychological burden that impacts the wellbeing of these communities.

On a larger scale, a more traditional perspective on religion may also result in the inability to acknowledge the existence of mental illness or disturbances, leading to the preservation of stigmatisation of anything linked to the concept of mental health in Malaysia.

This piece explores the complex intersection of religious intolerance and mental health in Malaysia, highlighting the psychological impact on religious minorities and the stigma surrounding mental illness. It calls for a mindset shift and interfaith dialogues to foster a more inclusive, compassionate society.

The Psychological Impact of Religious Intolerance

The deprivation or restriction on religious freedom has a deep impact on the mental health of individuals, as it is associated with a great sense of identity and belongingness in society. The resulting moderate suffering may usually manifest in mild symptoms, but extreme suffering could lead to a lot of anxiety, melancholy, existential crises and lower self-esteem. Concealed beliefs could also lead to trauma.

State protection of religious liberty could avert these as it minimises the risk of sectarian strife and mistreatment of minority groups within communities. While Malaysia’s legislative frameworks do signal a commitment to religious pluralism on paper, institutional biases act as significant obstacles towards achieving these goals in practice.

As an outcome, religious minorities in Malaysia are frequently left out of the national narratives and have difficulties in attaining acceptance and recognition.

Traditional examples include the controversy surrounding the use of the word “Allah” and the issue of conversion, which has become an unfathomably complex process leading to drawn-out court battles and mandatory counselling. The latter has also prompted some who consider converting to seek religious freedom in a different vein.

Religious Liberty and Societal Marginalisation

Stigma is a major barrier to seeking treatment for mental health disorders in Malaysia. The term stigma comes from the notion that certain scenarios or afflictions cause someone to fall outside of what is considered the society’s norm.

Though Malaysia is home to many world-class mental health facilities, many individuals are too afraid to go for help because they fear being shunned by family, friends and the community. These fears cause self-stigma and social isolation that deter people from asking for help. To illustrate, 80% of Malaysians had refrained from seeking help previously due to fear of judgement or stigma.

Certain interpretations of religious tenets could result in stigmatisation as well. For example, some religious communities continue to ascribe mental health issues to demonic possession or divine retribution. At other times, mental health problems could also be perceived by the same communities as shameful and as evidence of moral failure, thus perpetuating the stigma of mental illness.

This perception that considers mental illness a weakness of faith and the spirit – not a medical condition that needs intervention – introduces sense of guilt and culpability in the hearts of those who suffer from mental illness. Many who live with mental illness claim that they conceal their condition to protect their families’ honour, their own dignity and communal acceptance.

Religious hegemony could also force individuals with beliefs and belief systems outside the determined parameters to conceal them. In Malaysia, where Islam is the state-sanctioned religion, mental health issues are often buried and hidden to protect the family honour and ensure that social acceptance is maintained. This is a hurdle for both Muslims and other religious communities to achieve the aforementioned national unity.

To be fair, this problem does not only manifest among Malaysia’s Muslim community. Within the Hindu community, those who are actively preaching religious beliefs are more prone to stigmatisation, because they are judged more harshly than others. This is because the “public practice” of religiosity (e.g., social participation in religious practices, events or rites) may act as both a buffer/protector and a potential marker of stigma (e.g. social status or prejudice).

Moreover, while mindfulness is prioritised in Buddhism, the need to conform to religious conventions may also increase stigma. A sense of belongingness to a compassionate and supportive religious community can foster empowerment and emotional resilience within an individual. However, the pressure of not meeting community expectations can intensify the stigma around mental health issues. Those struggling may feel compelled to hide the reality of their challenge out of fear of criticism or rejection from their faith community.

Such patterns of mental health stigma exist across a variety of religious communities. There is, therefore, the need for leaders of faith to be compassionate in order to make people feel safe to seek help.

The Need for Change

As a potential remedy, there ought to be limits on the use of religiosity in labelling and stereotyping that could lead to prejudice and other forms of mental health stigma. Over time, the conceptualisation of religious beliefs within mental health stigma creates a barrier that hampers the efforts to reduce the latter.

The role of religiosity is twofold—it can either serve as an aggravating factor or be a source of healing, depending on how communities define and approach religious teachings.

Studies show that religiosity might have a negative relationship with mental health stigma. Other research suggests that for those who practice their beliefs in accordance with their faith’s ideals, religiosity can serve as a protective factor, improving global mental health and wellness.

Such a shift helps prioritise compassion over punishment in helping to reduce stigma and foster a more empathetic perspective towards those experiencing psychological distress. It is also reflective of the growing awareness within the nation towards mental health issues as a societal issue rather than individualised struggles.

Religious leaders also have important roles in determining how their faith communities understand mental health. Through their platform, they could either encourage acceptance or endorse stigma. Those that espouse the virtues of compassion, empathy and support for people with mental illness can definitely help reduce stigma and elevate acceptance.

Interfaith Dialogue as a Tool

One of the most important factors in building a mentally healthy and resilient nation is the advancement towards covenantal pluralism. This emphasises the fostering of an inclusive society rooted in interfaith understanding. It could only be achieved through the cultivation of religious tolerance and gaining knowledge of other faiths to prevent misconceptions stemmed from ignorance.

Historical and current examples from countries such as Myanmar, Sri Lanka, China, Indonesia and India – as well as the long-standing conflict between Palestine and Israel – show how unchecked religious intolerance and deep-seated prejudice ultimately lead to violence and systemic oppression.

These incidents highlight the urgent need to address religious intolerance before it incites conflict and violence within the society. To bridge the divide created by religious divisions, interfaith initiatives and education programmes are vital.

In certain regions, Rukun Tetangga (Neighbourhood Watch) programme has been introduced to promote interfaith alliances by creating a sense of togetherness and empathy amongst neighbours of varying religions and ethnicities. While it shows some promise as a grassroots tool for reducing divisions, its effectiveness remains inconsistent as it relies heavily on local leadership and community willingness to engage.

Civil society initiatives to promote interfaith discussions have been led by the Malaysian Consultative Council of Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Sikhism and Taoism (MCCBCHST), which has been instrumental in promoting interfaith dialogue and religious harmony. It aims to grow mutual understanding and tolerance among different religious communities. These efforts respect the rights of all individuals while encouraging greater inclusivity and acceptance.

By reducing conflicts and promoting a sense of shared empathy, MCCBCHST’s initiatives contribute to broader societal shifts toward more supportive attitudes. These dialogues lay the foundation for future advocacy, helping to create an environment that could lead to greater support with compassion and an inclusive approach.

Conclusion

Mental health in Malaysia is often viewed through the lens of religious norms, continuing to shape the experiences of those struggling with mental health issues and religious minorities. As the nation continues to progress and awareness of mental health grows, greater attention must be given to fostering unity within the communities. This moment calls not only for acknowledgment of these challenges but also for active efforts to address them. The legal decriminalisation of suicide attempts marks a significant step forward in reducing stigma. However, it must come hand in hand with the promotion of inclusivity and understanding across religious communities. Interfaith dialogue will be pivotal in fostering a society where mental health is treated with respect and compassion.

Introduction

As shown in a 2016 Al Jazeera documentary, seven primary school students of Orang Asli descent were reportedly missing while visiting the rainforests of Gua Musang, Kelantan.

After 50 days of searching, five of the children were found dead and the other two injured.

A subsequent interview with some Orang Asli students revealed a shocking fact. Based on one testimony, their teacher – identified as a Malay – frequently treated them in an abusive manner. The teacher had reportedly given them stale food and scolded them with racial pejoratives such as “Asli bodoh!”(dumb Aborigines!).

This revelation further influenced Orang Asli parents’ and students’ cynicism towards Orang Asli education, resulting in students’ reluctance to participate in formal schools.  

The Orang Asli Education

Given the historical context, the term of Orang Asli is a continuation of British colonial policy that was first used as colonial labelling of particular indigenous groups inhabiting the Malay Peninsula.

As found in a note by British bureaucrat, H. D. Noones, the term Orang Asli was derived and translated from “aborigines” and was created to distinguish the non-Muslim natives from the Malay population. This label was not mutually exclusive—it comprises 19 ethnic groups with various cultures, social organisation, livelihood and physical features.

Educational access for Orang Asli was provided by the Malaysian government as part of the implementation of  the Second Malaysia Plan (1961-1965) all the way to the Tenth Malaysia Plan (2011-2015), as Orang Asli were categorised as low-income class groups that require education to improve their quality of life.

Meanwhile, in a broader context, the provision of access to education for Orang Asli is already encapsulated in the United Nations Declaration Rights of Indigenous People. Among others, it calls for the state to provide education free from discrimination and with methods that befit Orang Asli’s cultural background.

Until recently, student attendance in Orang Asli schools was at 88.9%. However, in terms of student achievement in the Primary School Achievement Test, the figure only stood at 29.9%

Furthermore, a downward trend was recorded in the percentage of students who continued their education from the primary school to the secondary school levels. In 2019, 74.3% of students continued, a decrease of 2.4% from the previous year.

According to the report, among the reasons for this decline include the long distance of secondary schools from Orang Asli settlements and the challenge to integrate Orang Asli students with students of other ethnicities.

Furthermore, the provision of education for Orang Asli has also been subject of criticism. Despite having a distinct ethnic identity from the Malays, the Malay language is still the predominant medium of instruction in Orang Asli schools, as found in the case of Sekolah Kebangsaaan Sungai Berua, Terengganu.

Students’ abilities in writing, reading and arithmetic are often considered unaligned with their “age”, which is standardised in the national curriculum. For example, fifth graders Orang Asli students (between 10-11 years old) in Sekolah Kebangsaan Sungai Berua are still unable to read Malay texts and solve arithmetic questions. This is despite those standards being requirements that should have been accomplished by third graders (between 8-9 years old), according to the national curriculum. 

This leads to a critical question: Should indigenous education be implemented?

Attending School: Learning to Become a Malay?

Due to the use of the Malay language as the medium of instruction in Orang Asli schools, a language barrier emerged between Malay teachers and Orang Asli students. This is a significant constraint in the everyday teaching and learning process.

In 2013, the Ministry of Education issued the Dignifying Malays and Strengthening English policy that obliged all national education institutions in Malaysia to use English and Malay as mediums of instruction. There is no exception to Orang Asli schools.

This policy aims to boost student confidence in using standardised Malay and English both in formal and informal settings.

Meanwhile, for most Orang Asli students, Malay is considered to be their second language,  used only in a formal environment—at the school. During lessons, Orang Asli students are thus forced to carry out rapid code switching mentally in order to find appropriate terms in their own language for the concepts being taught to them in Malay.

In one particular case, students are oftentimes unable to fully comprehend the learning materials provided to them in maths class. It has been found that, in comparison to the standard tests in written Malay, Orang Asli students are able to perform better in tests of numeracy and computational skills when they are conducted orally or bilingually (in Malay and their mother tongue).

Teachers’ capacity to adjust their teaching style to the needs of Orang Asli students thus becomes a priority. Challenges faced by students to comprehend learning materials are also exacerbated by teachers’ non-fluency in the Orang Asli language. This is particularly an issue in teaching first grader students with limited Malay proficiency.

Another hindrance is, as indicated above, the geography of Orang Asli settlements. The remoteness of their areas decreases the frequency of contact with Malay-speaking society. This leads to lack of competency in the Malay language, contrary to government aspiration to create a society that is confident in speaking Malay.

Furthermore, religious education could also be a barrier. As denoted in the Aboriginal Peoples Act 1954, Orang Asli students have the right to absences religious classes unless  a notice is given otherwise by their parents or guardian. As written in the Act:

No aboriginal child attending any school shall be obliged to attend any religious instruction unless the prior consent of his father or of his mother if his father is dead, or of his guardian should both parents be dead, is notified to the Director General, and is transmitted by the Director General in writing to the headmaster of the school concerned.

Despite this, Islamic religious preachers facilitated by Jabatan Kemajuan Islam Malaysia (JAKIM) and Jabatan Kemajuan Orang Asli (JAKOA) often conduct sermons and religious activities engaging Orang Asli students. They have also provided scholarships for Orang Asli Muslim students who have converted to Islam.

The obligation to use Malay and participate in Islamic activities thus underscores a lack of sensitivity to the distinct cultural identify of Orang Asli, thus impacting their educational system. 

Theoretically speaking, integrating the Orang Asli community into the mainstream national curriculum and educational institution has become a form of hegemonic infrastructure since these two factors, language and religion, have played an important power in constructing the Malaysian national identity.

Seeking an Alternative

Taking a lesson from the case of Sokola Rimba—an indigenous school for the Orang Rimbacommunity in Jambi, Indonesia, there are several conditions that ought to be met in the implementation of education for indigenous communities.

Among others, these are: 1) a lesson plan that is tailored to their daily activities; 2) the facilitation of students’ critical thinking abilities to cope with the developmental challenges around them; 3) the assistance to achieve self-realisation and the community’s self-integrity; 4) the organisation of a localised educational system, and; 5) the ability to generate a beneficial impact to the community. Therefore, providing access to education for the indigenous community should be framed as an opportunity to teach diversity and equality instead of a hegemonic exertion of a dominant group over a subordinate one.

A Book Review of Dr. Murni Wan Mohd Nor’s “From Hate to Hope: A Holistic Approach to Address Hate Speech” and an Analysis of Related Developments in ASEAN

Introduction

While reading the latest book by Dr. Murni Wan Mohd Nor, an Expert Researcher at the Institute of Diplomacy and Foreign Relations (IDFR), titled From Hate to Hope: A Holistic Approach to Address Hate Speech, one question arises: How should ASEAN play its role in combatting hate speech in the Southeast Asian region?

Before delving into that question, we should explore what this book discusses. Published by IDFR, the book primarily explores Malaysia’s experience with hate speech, focusing on the complex intersections of race, religion, and nationalism. One of the key takeaways from this book that should be highlighted and discussed is the politics of language.

Dr. Murni explained that hate speech has been used as a tool to achieve power and dominance by influencing public perception. Hate speech – whether rooted in ethnic, religious, or national divisions – poses a significant threat to social harmony and peace, particularly in a region as diverse as Southeast Asia. It undermines the fabric of trust and mutual respect amongst diverse communities, which threatens peaceful coexistence in the region.

This year, Malaysia holds the ASEAN Chair and has introduced the theme of inclusivity and sustainability. This theme carries significant depth and can be applied to address a variety of issues, including hate speech. As hate speech becomes more widespread in Southeast Asia and beyond, it directly impacts inclusivity by silencing the voices of different groups, particularly the marginalised and oppressed. In addition, it weakens social cohesion, which forms a nation’s foundation—adversely impacting political stability, economic well-being, and national security. In this environment, it becomes difficult to achieve sustainable peace.

Thus, the problem of hate speech – alongside regional issues such as territorial disputes in the South China Sea, geopolitical rivalry between major powers, cyber-security threats, internal political instability, human rights issues, and climate change – all pose a security risk which may disrupt regional stability.

From Animalisation to Dehumanisation and Genocide

Animalisation is a tactic used by political figures to make people believe that the colonisation or elimination of a certain social group is justified because they are seen as having a lower status due to their supposed “animalistic” nature. This concept of animalisation serves as a powerful tool to justify violence, a notion supported by John Locke, who argued that such individuals could be destroyed like “a lion or a tiger, one of those wild savage beasts with whom men can have no society nor security.”

The Israeli Defence Minister, Yoav Gallant made it abundantly clear without any disguise, “We are fighting against animals, not people.” His statement was directed at Hamas to justify Israel’s actions of bombing and killing Palestinian civilians, resulting in the loss of tens of thousands of lives. The animalisation process leads to dehumanisation, where people lose their sense of morality and empathy, viewing those who are “animalised” as not human, but as wild animals that need to be controlled or destroyed to stop them from causing harm.

In the book, Dr. Murni explained that high-ranking Israeli officials went well beyond employing dehumanising statements by referring to Palestinians in general as “human animals,” and “monsters” who deserve it when Israelis “break their backbone” because “an entire nation out there…is responsible.…” She also referenced other human rights lawyers, activists and scholars who highlighted that such vitriol was indicative of Israel’s intent to commit genocide.

What is occurring in Palestine mirrors the situation faced by the Rohingyas in Myanmar; both groups are suffering from similar animalisation. Amnesty International reports an incident where a Rohingya Muslim human rights defender was labelled a “national traitor” in a post shared over 1,000 times, with social media comments that included threatening and racist messages such as, “He is a Muslim. Muslims are dogs and need to be shot,”, specifically referring to the Rohingya community.

Given the situations in Palestine and Myanmar, it is clear how language can be used as a tool for hate through animalisation by removing their humanity. Such rhetoric encourages violence and may even result in genocide.

Depower the Language of Hate; Empower the Language of Hope

As much as language can become a convenient weapon of dehumanisation which often can lead to human rights abuses, war crimes, and crimes against humanity – language can equally be used as a crucial tool of reconciliation and peacebuilding.

Underscoring this critical point, Dr. Murni advocates for a whole-of-nation approach to address hate speech. She believes this multi-stakeholder approach may promise a more effective execution of ideas and yield better results, as it would bring together the government, private sector, NGOs, and grass-roots leaders toward a common goal.

In addition, Dr. Murni advocates for a culture of genuine dialogue by outlining a guideline when responding to hate speech that emphasises patience and rational language. She also encourages the principle of being gentle yet firm when addressing a wrong. This is followed by the need to restrain ourselves from reciprocating hate with even more hate. Instead, she encourages the values of being proportionate and moderate in our recourse.

Dr. Murni also emphasises the importance of responding to hate with what is better, acting with wisdom, and avoiding the need to exaggerate which demonstrates our magnanimity. This guideline is hoped to help achieve the justice needed in combatting hate speech.                                                                                                                                                  

ASEAN and the Fight Against Hateful Narratives

As part of its mandate to promote regional stability, and indeed, due to its diverse ethnic and religious makeup, ASEAN has always been at the forefront in addressing human rights issues, including hate speech.

Following the intercommunal conflicts in Myanmar, ASEAN spearheaded the establishment of a five-point consensus (5PC) peace commitment in 2021. The 5PC, which was signed by Myanmar’s military leader and nine other ASEAN heads of states, remains ASEAN’s most notable collective resolve with respect to the deteriorating humanitarian situation caused by ethnic and religious conflict in Myanmar.

To enhance ASEAN’s influence on the global stage and actively address the challenge of hate speech, ASEAN could explore strengthening the role of the ASEAN Intergovernmental Commission on Human Rights (AICHR) to make it more impactful beyond its capacity as a consultative body. If the AICHR is given the mandate to create a complaint and monitoring mechanism for ASEAN member states, the human rights situation in the region would likely improve, especially in tackling hate speech to preserve social harmony, both domestically and regionally.

Malaysia has been prominent in the assertive leadership within the Global South for decades. Coupled with its globally commended vocal stance on global humanitarian issues under the Madani government, Malaysia can thus capitalise on its growing soft power to advocate for the promotion of human rights and mitigation of hate speech in the region and beyond as the chair of ASEAN.

Indeed, hate speech has become more pervasive than ever in our globalised, highly connected world. The proliferation of social media connectivity has meant that the dehumanisation of a people can be carried out at our fingertips, through a simple click of a button. Recognising the problems at hand, Dr. Murni’s new book, From Hate to Hope: A Holistic Approach to Address Hate Speech aims to address this problem bypresenting a practical and holistic approach requiring the whole-of-nation collaboration.

The book offers a glimmer of hope in a hate-fuelled environment by emphasising the importance of diplomacy, effective communication strategies, and most importantly, the power of counterspeech initiatives. Under the ASEAN 2025 theme of inclusivity and sustainability, Malaysia as ASEAN 2025 chair is best positioned to address hate speech in the region and beyond. This will further enhance the country’s and ASEAN’s credibility and relevance on the regional and global stage.

The free PDF copy of From Hate to Hope: A Holistic Approach to Address Hate Speech is now available and can be accessed via https://www.idfr.gov.my/ or https://www.idfr.gov.my/publication/other-publications/2025-publications