“I ADMIT the numbers are different now, and the non-Malay and non-Bumiputera numbers are smaller, but that does not mean we are a Malay-Islam government… It’s still an inclusive government. As a government, we have no choice but to celebrate our diversity, and we should all embrace our multiculturalism.”

This statement was made by Saifuddin Abdullah, the communications and multimedia minister in the new Perikatan Nasional administration, in a March 10 Bicara Naratif interview.

Of the PN cabinet’s 70 members, 63 are Malay or Bumiputera, Chinese (5) and Indian (2). Only nine are women. There is much reason to be sceptical when the coalition itself has three conservative Malay parties vying to “unite” the community.

Two years ago, Malaysians voted to purge the country of corruption and racial politics. We rejoiced, at long last, upon achieving what had seemed impossible: ending Barisan Nasional’s decades-long reign. We were thrilled about what the “New Malaysia” could offer. We even made films and documentaries about the 14th general election, one of which was the country’s submission to the 2019 Oscars’ foreign film category.

That joy, however, was short-lived. Today, we find ourselves facing the twin hurdles of the Covid-19 pandemic and Malaysia’s political instability. Amid the virus crisis, the PN government’s relief for the arts, among other sectors, has been painfully slow and insufficient.

Saifuddin’s blunder when he announced the approval of RM1.32 million for the Feature Film Screening Incentive (ITFC) as a “coronavirus relief fund” – which it is not – did not go unnoticed by the film industry. ITFC was established in 2011 as an incentive for “wajib tayang” films that have already had theatrical releases. A virus relief fund would be new funding in response to the outbreak. For example, South Korea subsidised a portion of marketing costs for 20 movies forced to postpone or cancel their release because of the pandemic.

While other countries issued safety guidelines for film production in the age of Covid-19 early on, it took more than 60 days of the movement-control order (MCO) being in force for an official announcement to be issued that production works could resume after Hari Raya Aidilfitiri, and that, too, before the finalisation and release of filming standard operating procedures. The long wait for guidelines resulted in confusion, anxiety and the spread of multiple versions of the supposed rules on WhatsApp and other social media platforms.

Miscommunication has stalled production plans and may pose health risks – things that could have been avoided had the National Film Development Corporation (Finas) been allowed to function without political interference. A case in point: the newly appointed Finas chairman is former PKR division chief Zakaria Abdul Hamid, whose degree in urban planning from California State University is a far cry from the expertise needed in the film industry.

Tourism, Arts and Culture Minister Nancy Shukri also made a misstep in an Astro Awani interview in March when she declared that the arts “complemented” the tourism sector, and that the industry would be “the first in line to recover”. She said the industry was readily adapting to digital platforms, citing online singing competitions and virtual art galleries. Her remarks neglect the fact that many in the industry are not performers, with a good number being freelancers without safety nets and pensions.

During Pakatan Harapan’s time in Putrajaya, communications minister Gobind Singh Deo put together an ambitious plan to set up advisory panels for film and music. One of the ministry’s initiatives was organising town halls, which saw hundreds of artists voicing their concerns and providing updates on developments in the industry. Much was learnt in these comprehensive discussions, but unfortunately, they ended after the “Sheraton Move” took place.

Two years worth of blueprints, studies and community outreach were made redundant. Not because the documents no longer exist, but because industry players are now expected to repeat themselves to help the new ministers catch up, all while practising physical distancing. Late last month, about 40 days into the MCO, the tourism and communications ministers collaborated to meet industry players, but it was already much too late.

Open letters and conference calls cannot replace the immersive experience of film screenings, theatrical productions and music events for the new ministers. Because of physical-distancing requirements, we find ourselves at the mercy of career politicians who are just learning their portfolios.

If there is one feeling that is all too familiar to those in the arts, it is being exploited of our time and value by people who do not share our passion. This is not unusual or recent, but what is significant about having to reset our livelihoods this time around is that the current situation began with a political coup. PN has itself to blame for being unprepared, and Malaysians are the ones paying the price. BN was voted out because of the 1Malaysia Development Bhd scandal, but if Riza Aziz is able to get away with money-laundering through a Martin Scorsese film, what hope do we have of striking corruption on home soil?

The systemic failure in the arts cannot be attributed to politics alone, and the coronavirus has revealed a system that was broken to begin with. For years, a Malaysian Arts Council has been tabled, without fruition. The industry has long been tossed back and forth between ministries at the state and federal levels. Censorship is still under the Home Ministry, where British colonisers left it. Finas’ leadership and policies change faster than one can produce a film, causing regular delays and cancellations. The arts scene has become too dependent on government funding for its survival, which inevitably poses a threat to our democracy. It is easy for any government to benefit when the visual arts, performing arts and creative industries remain divided. At the core of the issue are policymakers who often neglect the needs of young creatives; those under 35 are rarely represented in discussions, even though they make up most of the active arts community.

Under PN, is it too late to talk about a “New Malaysia”? A government that opposes corruption, and is represented by multiple ethnic groups, genders and beliefs? As for the younger generation, are we satisfied with the country we are inheriting? Where is “progress” under a government that espouses “Ketuanan Melayu”, when in GE14, Sabahans and Sarawakians voted for one they believed would push for the Malaysia Agreement 1963?

Malaysia is just one of many countries where the pandemic is being used as a tool for authoritarian rule. This does not have to be our fate. If the arts are the first to buckle, so will the people later.

These are difficult times for everyone, for a number of reasons. Businesses are closing. The economy is suffering. There is no shame in people in the arts coming up with other ways to sustain themselves, such as by selling food. However, there is indignity in having to surrender our values to an unjust government, perceiving ourselves as powerless, when we are anything but. Government cooperation with our community should be earned through trust and common values, not because we feel we have no choice. Or has the virus taken that away from us, too?

In times of crisis, those of us in the arts need to ask ourselves why we chose this life in the first place. We are the ones who decided to dedicate our lives to the arts because we have something to say. Many of us take on the responsibility of holding up a mirror to society and sounding the horn. Since PN’s power grab, we have seen vestiges of the “Old Malaysia” returning, and in this “new normal”, where movement restrictions are in place, it can be unspeakably dangerous. Bersih rallies demanding clean polls and the way we have conducted elections all this while will likely not happen over the next year. Covid-19 has presented a whole new world of constraints – and possibilities. We must take advantage of the latter and mobilise ourselves in fresh ways, whether in the arts, or advocacy, or both. Resistance is a powerful form of protest as well.

Let’s not kid ourselves. Malaysian media and arts have never been perfect. They are often riddled with racial inequality and sexism, asphyxiated by the old guard and censorship, dominated by centralism and beaten to death with formula. It was difficult convincing the public to “support local”. Maybe, it was due in part to the arts not always having dared to act as an extension of the truth, owing to the long arm of authoritarian rule. If this is so, then what of the truly voiceless? The poor, women and children subjected to domestic abuse, indigenous folk, migrants and refugees, the LGBT community, and of course, the environment.

More so than political engagement, what is more pressing in the wake of the pandemic are the discussions industry players must hold among themselves, and especially with younger artists. We in the arts need to reclaim our power. We need to facilitate a sustainable cultural ecosystem, and run it ourselves, so that we are not constantly uprooted by political instability. Can we pool together alternative forms of funding, networks and resources, whether through self-organisation or with corporate support (your choice), so that we can defend our freedom of speech? Can we collaborate towards a system where politicians answer to permanent bodies comprising experts, instead of the other way around, especially when our livelihoods and Malaysia’s creative economy are at stake?

Perhaps, Nancy did have a point after all when she said the coronavirus was a “blessing in disguise”. But for there to be positive outcomes, our principles as artists must not be compromised. Surrendering our values to the powers that be, just to keep the industry afloat, leads to moral corruption.

Under these circumstances, the best way to take advantage of the pandemic is for industry players to pave the way towards greater autonomy by coming together when politics has divided us. Remind the politicians, through our work and solidarity, of who pays their salaries, and whose voice truly matters in a parliamentary democracy. It is, and always has been, the Malaysian people, no matter how much we have been led to believe otherwise. – May 30, 2020.

* Nadira Ilana reads The Malaysian Insight.

* 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.