A POPULATION often stereotyped as politically apathetic could be nearing its wit’s end. In light of recent public demonstrations, subsequent crackdowns, and spikes in social media discussion, we are left to wonder where the future of discourse and protest lies for Malaysia. How potent will cries to #Lawan be in catalysing change, when all other avenues of democratic appeal appear exhausted?

How did it begin?

It is first worth examining the origin of the recent outcry: necessity.

The Bendera Putih movement, which urged B40 and M40 groups to raise white flags to signal food poverty, was met with scorn when it emerged. A number of politicians dismissed it as political propaganda and ex-prime minister Muhyiddin Yassin suggested in July that “the kitchens of homes are full” and that there was no need to raise white flags.

Statistics indicate otherwise. In the wake of an indefinite lockdown and misallocation of resources, a study by the Merdeka Centre suggested that five to eight percent of Malaysia’s population could fall into poverty, which is about 2.8 million people unable to do things like buy milk powder and pay rent.

Bendera Putih was symbolic then, and borne more of utter desperation than defeat. Distressing living conditions led a civil society running on compassion to fundraise, distribute aid, and even direct users to food banks using crowd-sourced data, with the ‘Sambal SOS’ app reaching thousands. Countless organisations responded to the scarcity, but the capacity of ad hoc food banks to feed so many mouths is bound to be finite.

Fiscal policy should bear the full burden of financial aid, but of the billions of ringgit promised in stimulus packages like ‘Pemulih’, the International Labour Organisation questioned how much was being delivered in the short term – raising issues regarding the source of money, sustainability, frequency, those in informal employment, information asymmetry, provisions for foreign workers and more.

Additionally, police recorded that the number of suicide cases between January and May this year already tops those in 2020, and cases of mental illness are higher amidst the B40 group, according to the Mental Illness Awareness and Support Association (MIASA). It could very well be that the “kitchens of homes” are empty, and such dire conditions have led many to turn to a democracy nowhere to be found.

Parliamentary sittings have been postponed indefinitely after the first session this year was disrupted over apparent infection concerns. The recent resignation of PM Muhyiddin, although an appeasement of one of the demands of the #Lawan protestors, inspires an air of trepidation and impatience. 

Will his already controversial successor be able to act with urgency, especially considering this is the second time in little over a year that a premier has bypassed a direct election to be placed in power? Ultimately, it is regrettable that indefinite political squabble for power draws attention away from the very conditions that necessitated intelligent policy to begin with.

Such inaccessibility of tangible change through the political avenue combined with stagnant living conditions are what led activists to mobilise protestors, and #lawan, a movement endorsed by frustrated millennials and dissenting politicians alike, began trending online.

Groups estimated by organisers at totalling a thousand gathered in Kuala Lumpur on 31st July, carrying effigies of cloth-wrapped bodies, painted numbers reflecting Covid-19 casualties, and cardboard signs reading “enough with incompetent leaders” and “we stand for those who cannot”. Demonstrators chanted “hidup rakyat” (long live the people) and called attention to “KerajaanGagal” (failed government).

How pervasive was this outcry?

Protesting has evolved from simply taking to the streets to expressing infectious disdain through online channels, and much of it is led by the youth. Subsequent crackdowns and intimidation by police of individuals who protest, activists who speak up online or attend vigils and contract doctors who go on strike expectedly took place, by an administration overtly against freedom of speech and assembly. But this response seems to only further anger and incentivise many, hence the emergence of ‘#lawan intimidasi’. Moreover, officials are not the only sceptics, and throes of nationalistic conservatives were quick to identify and tyrannise these participants and activists online.

Many cannot even afford to go on strike or tweet their solidarity. Those people most affected by socio-economic crises and high infection rates are also the ones who most lack the luxury of time and mobility to engage in organised protest, and are likely underrepresented in discourse and gathering due to the high risk and opportunity cost.

Additionally, protests in KL are bound to be sensationalised, but rural outcry struggles to even make the news. Such a demographic barrier could hinder the magnitude of protests compared to, for instance, the widespread 2012 Bersih 3.0 rally, Malaysia’s largest democratic protest to date that was held in cities across the country and even the world.

What was originally a health crisis has already turned into a moment of socioeconomic and political reckoning for the country, and the nature and method of protesting tells us that the younger generations desire change, and are consistent in their expressions for it. It is difficult to determine whether such a movement will fade into the pages of the pandemic saga, or whether dominoes will continue to fall. Indeed, a rallying cry has been made, but how loud and far it echoes depends both on upcoming revelations and general public reaction.

So, what’s next?

If there are such structural barriers preventing action being taken up by the most vulnerable, it becomes even more apparent that those with some political agency and ability to take a stand should do so, “for those who cannot”.

Political switch-a-roos are pretentious and may appease some, but do not console those struggling to put food on the table or find hospital beds. As I write this, Malaysia hits a new record of 23,564 daily cases – such disappointments are not few and far between, and should plunge more people into a state of alertness.

The spillover of the pandemic has affected diverse groups in diverse ways, but unity lies in a sense of exasperation – one that needs to morph and boil over into an unshakeable solidarity. This is the spirit echoed in those volunteers who drive for hours to deliver amenities to the poor, and within those who stood (or sat) their ground on the 31st. If the tragedy, conversation and crackdown over the past few months has taught us anything, it is that speaking out is a privilege not to be wasted. It appears the pandemic will test not only the unity of the government, but that of the rakyat as well. – August 27, 2021.

*Anandita A. is a research intern at the Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs (IDEAS).

* 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.