ONE might think that if one has a job and is healthy enough to work during the Movement Control Order (MCO) period, that person is very lucky.

As the negative impacts of the Covid-19 pandemic and MCO hit domestically – closing down of small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs), the rise of unemployment, shortened work hours and restrictions on labour strength at work sites et cetera – being able to land a job is a blessing.

It is easy to believe that because for most of us, we trust that by providing our service or labour, we will be rewarded with wages fairly in exchange. When this contract is breached, there are laws to ensure that justice will be served.

Unfortunately, this is not the case were you a migrant worker, or worse, one who is undocumented.

When Dr Andika Wahab, a researcher from Institute of Malaysian and International Studies, Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, documented the situation of migrant workers in Malaysia during the pandemic in November last year, one of his informants, an undocumented migrant worker from Indonesia, reported a foul play on the part of his employer:

“My former employer was a palm oil contractor, with contracts from palm oil companies to undertake work such as harvesting, loading and spraying in big plantations. During MCO, the plantation was still in operation in order to fulfil demand from palm oil mills. So, I took the opportunity to work. My former employer promised to pay me on the first day of every new month but he has failed to do so since January 2020. I worked for my former employer for almost 5 years, from 2015. I trusted him and didn’t expect that he would cheat me.”

He worked for six months last year with no pay.

Umi Nurfatihah, 78, went through far worse. For the entire 14 years she worked as a domestic helper for her former employer, she did not receive a single sen of her promised salary, a meagre promise of RM600 per month.

When she was first sheltered by Tenaganita in February last year, Umi had just been rescued from drinking Clorox out of desperation.

The NGO lodged a complaint and salary claim at a labour department, but the case was not taken up because Umi was undocumented. Just like that, she was robbed of RM100,800 and lost 14 years of her life with nothing in return.

The sad fact is that exploitations of migrant workers in Malaysia are more common than we would like to admit: unfair termination; unpaid wages; poor living conditions; being unable to refuse work; and uncertainty about employment status.

Not only that; Indonesia and Cambodia have in the past not trusted that Malaysia can provide protection against abuse of foreign domestic workers, the United States has also very recently downgraded Malaysia to a tier 3 category in their Trafficking In Person Report 2021 after years of monitoring, as Malaysia has failed to meet the minimum standards in curbing human trafficking and forced slavery.

This is not due to a lack of laws and legal means or policies. Malaysian laws, such as Employment Act (1955), Employees Social Security Act 1969, Minimum Wage Order 2020, Workers’ Minimum Standards of Housing and Amenities Act in 1966 and more, are set in place to reduce exploitations and ensure safety.

In a landmark ruling made by the High Court in June 2019, undocumented domestic workers are granted the right to pursue claim for unpaid wages, paving the path for future similar disputes.

Anti-trafficking in Persons and Anti-smuggling of Migrants Act 2007, on the other hand, aims at curbing the crime and preventing them from becoming victims of such a crime.

In 2010, the government launched its first National Action Plan of Anti-Trafficking in Person (NAPTIP) 2010. When the second action plan was released in 2016, then Deputy Prime Minister Ahmad Zahid Hamidi vowed to bring the country back to tier 1 by 2020.

On 30 March this year, the country released the third NAPTIP. All three plans fall short of their goal. Yet the Indonesian oil-palm estate worker and Umi still could not get paid.

Nor is it due to a lack of watchdogs in our society. NGOs such as Tenaganita, International Labour Organisation, MTUC and Suhakam have been persistently monitoring the situation and offering help throughout many years.

At the same time, there have been efforts from think-tanks to formulate reform proposals. Nonetheless, the extent to which these efforts translate into a policy change by the government remains questionable.

When law enforcers act, migrant workers usually are the targets as law breakers, rather than victims whose rights need to be protected.

Since May 2020 (after the Director-General of Health Dr Noor Hisham Abdullah publicly promised a moratorium of arrests), periodic raids launched by the immigration department to round up undocumented workers have put thousands and thousands of them in detention centres or deporting planes, and possibly have instilled fear in even more and driven them into hiding, away from getting tested, seeking medical treatments or vaccinations, the only medical approaches available to protect public health, as accounted by another informant interviewed by Dr Wahab in the same research:

“Even workers with a pass (meaning a valid passport and working pass) were scared. I was lucky because I wasn’t at home when the two raids were conducted in my housing area. I was working at the construction site. When I returned home, some friends told me the police had arrested ‘pendatang’ (meaning ‘new arrivals,’ that is, the non-citizens, particularly the migrant workers) randomly.”

We should ask ourselves, is this how we intend the laws in our country to work, to aggravate the plights of the vulnerable groups instead of protecting their safety and rights?

Do we even care if the estimated 1.5 million (possibly more) undocumented migrant workers have no access to paying jobs or health care?

What are the odds of our country winning the battle with the pandemic, if the estimated 1.5 million or more of undocumented migrant workers do not trust the government or the public and are avoiding the health institutions or vaccination centres?

On the other hand, what does it say about our cultures and values to allow such atrocious exploitation to take place repeatedly when the culpable can evade the consequence of laws? Do we always need laws and enforcement to force us into not exploiting others?

Or have years of memorising the 36 kata kunci nilai-nilai Pendidikan moral failed to provide an answer?

The way the government implements policies has an important impact on public trust. But so could the attitudes and behaviours of the general public towards the migrant workers.

When laws and their enforcement couldn’t reach the distant work site of the oil palm estate worker, or the secluded house address where Umi resided, or when the efforts of the NGOs did not change government policies, then it is up to us the individuals in our society to care enough for another human being and do the right thing when the moment arises, regardless of the situation or capacity we are in. 

With more individuals showing empathy towards the migrant workers, perhaps we could shape the development of our society and government policies in the direction that can bring more fairness to everyone. – August 2, 2021. 
 

* Chan Yit Fei is a founding member of Agora Society. He is a cellist and educator by profession, and a biotechnologist by training. He writes to learn and to think, and most importantly, to force himself to finish reading books that would otherwise not see much of the light of day.

* 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.