COVID-19 has exposed the breadth of inequality in Malaysia, with the B40 group disproportionately impacted by the health crisis and ensuing economic downturn. More alarming, perhaps, is that amid the pandemic, the nation has swerved to the right, apparent in how grievances, from social to political, have given rise to hatred and malice towards migrants and refugees.

The story of Eleyas illustrates the plight of Rohingya Muslims here in this testing time, and is one that’s all too familiar to most undocumented foreigners. The 38-year-old fled persecution in his home country of Myanmar in 2014. As Malaysia doesn’t grant refugees the right to work, he is assumed to have been illegally employed for six years until he was fired during the virus crisis. Eleyas is now in hiding to avoid arrest and harassment. According to Reuters, he was sacked simply for being a Rohingya.

Xenophobia? What xenophobia?

All this is on full display in Al Jazeera’s Locked Up in Malaysia’s Lockdown. The condemnation of the documentary lends credence to the fact that xenophobic attitudes have existed in our society for a while. The start of the report highlights the defence minister’s vow that no action would be taken against undocumented migrants over their lack of papers as he urged them to come forward for coronavirus screening. “The focus will not be on documentation, but rather, whether each person is (infected with) Covid-19,” he said.

The assurance was quashed when raids and arrests swiftly followed – and conducted efficiently at that – as if the government had not been forewarned that the operations would have the likely consequence of hampering virus screening and control measures.

With this act of betrayal, what else can migrants and refugees do but evade the authorities? And yet, critics of the documentary have chosen to turn a blind eye to the deception, instead crying foul over how the country has been “unfairly” maligned. Was Malaysia’s reputation not already in tatters when the government chose to break its promise to the most vulnerable and marginalised among us?

These critics have also disregarded the raids’ inhumanity, which exemplifies the “one rule for Malaysians, another rule for migrants” dictum. The footage shows detainees being treated harshly, handcuffed and chained, and most worryingly, without protocols to safeguard their health, such as social distancing, in place.

This calls into question whether the raids were meant to prevent the spread of Covid-19 or merely assuage Malaysians’ deep-seated fear of migrants and serve as a diversion from the Perikatan Nasional administration’s disputed legitimacy. If it’s the former, then the reality that several detention depots were identified as virus hotspots in May makes plain that the operations were nothing but a majestic failure.

For years, the debate on “legal” migration in Malaysia has omitted how employers often benefit from cheap labour, and migrants preyed on by exploitative agencies. Therefore, their “illegality” should be reflected upon deeply. Agents are known to profit by making false promises on permits and employment. Job-seeking migrants, unaware of the country’s immigration policy, frequently fall victim to manipulation and fraud.

Md Rayhan Kabir sheds light on the issue in the documentary, saying his fellow migrant friend was arrested only because the company did not renew his visa. Also, some were denied documentation at the height of the pandemic because immigration centres were closed, thus, they became “illegal” through no fault of their own. Last but not least, this “illegality” is extremely beneficial to employers, giving them bargaining power to further press down wages. Malaysia risks simplifying a complex problem when migrants workers’ status is determined only by their legality.

It’s heartbreaking that Rayhan’s impassioned plea to meet his friend has been met with xenophobic and vulgar comments on social media – which should come as no surprise to most Malaysians. And what the government has done, given these public displays of hate, is nothing short of shameful. Instead of reflecting on its policies on migrants or addressing the criticism arising from the documentary, Putrajaya is living in denial, even employing the full force of the executive to quell dissent. The Immigration Department has declared that it’s looking for Rayhan, endangering his life, and revoked the Bangladeshi’s work permit.

That the journalists involved in the report were questioned by police erases the last vestiges of press freedom left in the country. Taking the PN government’s actions as a sign of approval, online trolls have fanned the flames by encouraging public shaming, doxxing and harassment against those seen to be defending migrant workers.

History will no doubt be kind to PN for its decisive policies to combat Covid-19, but these same policies cannot be built on or sustained by discriminating against migrants, especially when there are at least 2.2 million of them toiling in some of the most difficult, dangerous and dirty industries in Malaysia.

Foreign workers’ fate is no doubt interwoven with the nation’s, and they are here to stay, as is the coronavirus. Therefore, like Malaysians, migrants, too, must win the fight against the disease – with help from the country that they have tirelessly laboured for. – July 13, 2020.

* Kenneth Cheng has always been interested in the interplay between human rights and government but more importantly he is a father of two cats, Tangyuan and Toufu. When he is not attending to his feline matters, he is most likely reading books about politics and human rights or playing video games. He is a firm believer in the dictum “power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will”.

* 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.