‘An Insider’s Perspective’: Immigrants in Malaysia
Initially, I was rather proud of my country’s response to this pandemic.
We began social distancing and contact-tracing relatively early; after an initial cluster emerged from a religious gathering on February 28th. We have a comprehensive public healthcare system that has not suffered years of austerity. A system which allowed a coordinated government response in facilitating the return of Malaysian nationals from abroad. We boast a whopping 80% recovery rate from the virus, which, to me, illustrated that even this small former colony is capable of better governance than the countries and civilisations our metrics acknowledge as ‘advanced’.
However, this show of solidarity in handling a crisis could not be more starkly contrasted to Malaysia’s treatment of immigrants and refugees.
Earlier in April, Rohingyan refugees escaping persecution in Myanmar were ordered to turn back at Malaysian borders, a government action which was supported by some Malaysians. Evidenced by the subsequent uptick in xenophobic remarks on social media platforms as a result.
More recently, mass raids on immigrant communities, purportedly to tackle the problem of undocumented immigrants, took place in the capital of Kuala Lumpur. Undocumented immigrants as well as family members, including children as young as four, were apprehended. The scenes were harrowing, with hundreds lined up on the street awaiting their fate while immigration officers ordered them onto packed trucks. Those who had already left their families searching for better opportunities awaited an unknown fate.
The official government justification for these raids was to ‘reduce the Covid-19 spread’. However, these actions could not be more counterproductive to that end. According to analysts, the act of repression will likely cause undocumented immigrants to fear getting tested as their immigration status might be called into question. It could also make these groups themselves more vulnerable to the virus, as they are placed in tight confines with inadequate sanitary conditions.
To make matters worse, the government decided to take legal action against journalists that exposed the mass raids through the use of Section 504 of the Penal Code - itself an outdated, draconian law which covers “intentional insult with intent to provoke a breach of public peace.” This form of government intimidation runs contradictory to the principles of freedom of press that is paramount in liberal democracies. It also indicates that the government is on some level aware of the atrocities it is committing, whilst simultaneously preventing the issue from being brought to greater international scrutiny.
The irony here is that in a crisis of such a magnitude as Covid-19, the fact that immigrants are not safe means the Malaysian public could too, not be safe. The sectors dominated by immigrant workers include jobs which require them to come into close contact with people daily, such as security guards who would usually conduct temperature checks on all customers before entry. Indeed, our very existence has been revealed to be more interdependent than we previously thought; revealing the maxim that ‘we are only as strong as our weakest link’ to be absolutely spot-on.
On the public end, much of the discourse focuses on the ‘legality’ of these immigrants - ‘they did something wrong, so they are being rightfully punished’ - as well as the drain on economic resources should we attempt to house or feed them. Most of the public would rather see undocumented immigrants as illegal human beings and as perpetrators of a horrendous crime instead of victims of exploitation and repression. This narrative often obscures the fact that those who migrate illegally are often victims of exploitation by traffickers, of poor economic conditions in their home countries, or of violent state-sanctioned repression in the case of the Rohingya.
There is hope yet for Malaysia. Against the rising tide of xenophobia, activists took to organising an online protest entitled #MigranJugaManusia (meaning ‘Migrants are humans too’) on the 3rd and 16th of May; in an attempt to counter the dehumanising narratives peddled by the nationalists. Nationally-distinguished lawyers, human rights advocates, as well as other progressive voices also condemned the government’s actions. However, countering the nationalist and race-based politics that had taken root in Malaysia under 60 years of Barisan Nasional rule will not be an overnight process.
Indeed, a display of true solidarity will be crucial to tackle this pandemic as well as the inevitable recession that will ensue. Governments must devise an economic and political system that looks after the most vulnerable (regardless of their race, nationality, and immigration status), and they must do this not only for its own sake, but for the safety of their own communities as well. We are only as strong as our weakest link. Creating scapegoats and directing our anxieties onto other groups is not only counterproductive to our own safety, it will also set a dangerous precedent for what atrocities will be deemed tolerable in the name of ‘public order’.
Note that opinions expressed in the article above do not represent the overall stance of Asiatic Affairs, Students' Union UCL or University College London. If you have read something you would like to respond to, please get in touch with uclasiaticaffairs@gmail.com.