THE NATIONAL DAY for Malaysia is often a time where we collectively celebrate the uniqueness of our diversity and heritage. As such, the mood this year couldn’t help but feel bruised, coming off several state elections, which saw the usual racial rhetoric being hurled.
Last month, I attended Lah Berjaguk (Let’s Gather), an event hosted by Apa Kata Wanita Orang Asli in collaboration with Freedom Film Network. The event featured a panel session and exhibitions as well as sharings from different Indigenous community groups across Malaysia and the South-East Asia region. In particular, I was struck by the sharing from the residents of Kampung Kelaik, Kelantan.
The community has faced severe environmental deterioration and disruption of their traditional way of life due to encroachment by development companies since 2009. I listened at length on how the ongoing encroachment on their homeland negatively impacts their livelihoods, which are heavily dependent on forest resources.
Particularly, iron ore mining had resulted in contamination of essential food sources, putting the residents’ safety at risk. Blood sample testing conducted by the Pulitzer Center found that some villagers had dangerously high levels of chromium.
Residents of Kampung Kelaik had filed a lawsuit against 10 companies and four government bodies in 2021. The trial is currently ongoing at the Kota Bharu High Court.
Sadly, this is not an isolated case. Indigenous people and vulnerable communities globally have borne the burden of environmental degradation, often caused by large industries and development projects prioritising profits over ecological health and social welfare.
This harks back to the often uncomfortable but necessary conversation around development. It is not inherently bad, and economic growth, jobs and infrastructure matter. However, it is too often that those who benefit from development are far removed from those who bear its costs, especially for rural communities.
As one of the panellists poignantly reflected: “Different people have different definitions of what a ‘home’ is. For us, the forest is our home.”
What I found particularly inspiring at Lah Berjaguk was seeing young people at the forefront of these conversations.
There is a tendency to refer to young people as leaders of the future, rather than of the present. This is especially so when it comes to seemingly complicated issues such as Indigenous rights, social justice or environmental destruction, where young people are told to gain more experience first or leave the difficult questions to those already in positions of authority.
Yet what impressed me most at the event was the variety of ways young people from Indigenous communities were stepping up to champion their causes. Some helped organise the gathering to create a platform for their communities’ voices. Others documented their communities’ stories to bring them to a wider public, while others were mobilising and bringing Indigenous women together around shared concerns.
At the same time, we should be careful not to romanticise young people or place the burden of solving every national problem on their shoulders. Youth-led movements still need support, resources and platforms. They need policymakers willing to listen, laws that offer meaningful protection, and a wider public that cares enough to stand alongside them.
This is perhaps where the rest of us come in. The issues faced by Indigenous communities should not only concern them and environmental degradation should not only matter when the pollution reaches us. In a country as diverse and interconnected as Malaysia, solidarity means paying attention when another community is suffering.
The wider public has a role to play in listening, learning and amplifying. That begins with recognising that Indigenous communities are Malaysians with rights, histories, knowledge and aspirations. Their relationship with land and nature also carries lessons that a rapidly developing country would do well not to ignore.
As we approach Merdeka, perhaps it is worth asking what independence means. Is it just freedom of a nation from colonial rule, or does it also include the freedom of communities to live safely on their ancestral lands, protect their environment and determine their own futures?
The unity we so often invoke during National Day should therefore mean more than the absence of open conflict between communities. It should mean recognising that the dignity of one Malaysian is connected to the dignity of another and refusing to allow those with less political or economic power to become invisible.
Amidst a raised political temperature, I hope this year’s National Day can be an invitation to view patriotism not simply as a celebration of the Malaysia we have inherited, but to consider the Malaysia that the next generation is helping to shape.
Young people are already speaking up for their communities and demanding to be heard. But their efforts cannot stand alone. If we truly believe in a Malaysia that celebrates its diversity, then the responsibility of building it must be shared by all of us.
Malaysian youth advocate Jonathan Lee Rong Sheng traces his writing roots to The Star’s BRATs programme. The views expressed here are his own.
