IT is time we paid careful attention to the essential multi-tieredness of democracy. Democracy is, in essence, much more than simply the electing of a central government. It is about electing representatives at different levels in order to fulfil society’s different needs optimally.

But what is the optimal distance between voter and representative?

The short answer is, it depends. It depends on what the issues are. On matters of defence, it seems reasonable to have resources centrally commanded and deployed. On matters such as waste collection, rubbish recycling or tree pruning, the local government would be best placed to deliver and to be accountable. And in a large enough country, there is a need for a middle level to handle a host of other issues.

Take the case of Sweden. It is hard to find a more rationally run governmental structure than in this Scandinavian country. Being an advanced economy, it has accumulated a formidable repertoire of laws, rules and regulations for most contingencies.

Its democracy is seriously three-levelled. I say “seriously” because the heavy taxes collected from its 9.7 million citizens are collected from the bottom up. At the lowest level, the tax level is decided by the elected representatives and these are used by the Commune Government for local matters such as snow-ploughing and rubbish collection and sorting. Childcare, too, is managed at that level.

And then there is the provincial level, which takes only a couple of percentage points in taxes as funding for transport and healthcare services. Higher earners pay state taxes for the use of the central government, which takes care of matters like defence. Many matters, such as schooling, are a shared responsibility.

What we have in Sweden, in short, is a three-tier democracy with taxes earmarked for each tier. That way, accountability for specific public services is easily ascertained, and it becomes somewhat harder to hide incompetence and wrongdoing within a faceless and opaque bureaucracy.

Malaysia used to have a three-tier democracy as well, until local governments were stopped in 1965 and then forbidden in the 1970s. Since then, there have been only the federal and state elections. Whether that was to make the system more effective or simply to centralise power is hotly debated.

What is undeniable is that the government acted to abolish local elections against the recommendations of its own Royal Commission of Enquiry to investigate the workings of local authorities in West Malaysia.

The centralisation of governance in Malaysia has been going on since the Second Malaysia Plan (1971-1975), and the federal government has over the years managed a slow but steady capture of all the 13 states, excepting Kelantan. This continued to be the case until the 2008 elections, when five states were lost to Putrajaya. It quickly grabbed back one — Perak —and then another — Kedah — in the 2013 elections. But the three that remain lost to it are quite beyond its ability to regain in the foreseeable future.

Malaysia thus makes a good case study for how democratic struggles take place between the centre and lower levels. This inherent tension within a country, especially those with a democratic structure, is generally ignored because we tend to think of democracy as a national-level matter.

And yet, most issues that affect us on a daily basis, like traffic lights working or rubbish being collected, and tap water being available or buses running, are best run at the local level, and those responsible for these utilities and services are most easily held accountable at the practicably lowest level.

This vertical struggle within any large country is evident throughout Southeast Asia today. Indonesia had to immediately decentralise after the fall of Suharto in order not to break apart into different countries instead.

In Myanmar, the military is trying to loosen its grip on power for the sake of economic growth and to limit Chinese influence, and is finding that its biggest challenge is the multi-ethnic nature of the country’s population. Some form of power-sharing between ethnic groups is necessary if the country’s reforms are to succeed.

And then we have Thailand, where the political power of Bangkok has since the early 2000s been successfully challenged by the country’s northwestern and northern provinces. To resolve the tension, the military stepped in last year to stop the disunion, if not to heal it. One wonders at this point if the country is in fact sliding into a Suharto-style dictatorship where a military leader puts on civilian clothes to remain dictator.

We thus see that Malaysia’s political divisions are not unique to the region. Either we depend on a Suharto-style dictatorial grip on power to provide development, or we proceed with our democratic system.

If the latter, and we wish for efficiency in the use of resources, as well as accountability and transparency on the part of government, and participation from citizens, then the answer must lie in accepting the multi-tieredness of democracy and in devolving power and the right of taxation accordingly.

Ooi Kee Beng is  deputy director of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, Singapore. His latest books are The Eurasian Core — Dialogues with Wang Gungwu on the History of the World (ISEAS) and Lim Kit Siang – Defying the Odds (Marshall Cavendish).

This article first appeared in Forum, The Edge Malaysia Weekly, on June 1 - 7, 2015.

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