A reset after the pandemic

WITHIN Malaysia, many different experiences of life during the pandemic and movement control order have already been shared.

As any evening drive around Kuala Lumpur these days will reveal, memories of being confined to homes and apartments are fading as social activities have returned with a vengeance.

It must be remembered that for many others, resetting back after the pandemic is far more challenging if jobs were lost and businesses have closed. It is thus vital that the incentives and stimuli available to get people back into employment are deployed quickly, efficiently and without corruption.

Sadly, for those who have lost loved ones – the number of casualties is nearing 30,000 – social activities and stable employment will provide only the smallest comfort.

A recent meeting between the leaderships of the National University of Malaysia (UKM) and its Hospital Canselor Tuanku Muhriz (HCTM), together with the Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs (Ideas) and Projek Bangsa Malaysia, provided a powerful reminder of the power of collaboration and the generosity of Malaysians.

In July, an emergency fund was set up to reinforce the efforts of frontliners who did not have the equipment they needed to treat Covid-19 patients.

After a viral video of the first-hand accounts of doctors and nurses was widely circulated, the fund received a constant stream of donations, totalling two million ringgit in the end. This money saved lives.

Returning to London after a two-year absence (with Covid-19 tests before and after the flight), I was quickly reminded of the importance of face-to-face interactions as I viscerally connected with experiences beyond Malaysia’s borders.

I learnt of the ordeal of my 86-year-old former boss who underwent cancer treatment despite Covid-19 being present all around her.

Another friend contracted mild Covid-19 just after giving birth to her second child – thus both being confined to the hospital – while her husband and first child suffered far worse symptoms while being quarantined in their flat.

For friends with Covid-19 babies, the anxiety of socialising them to the world will take some time to quell.

Almost no one wears a mask and there is no requirement to check in when entering premises.

Even in the Tube, packed as ever like sardines during rush hour, probably only 20% comply with ubiquitous signs saying face coverings must be worn.

“It’s totally unenforceable,” my friend remarked, and I shared the story of the Mancusian Karen who refused to mask up in KLCC.

Thankfully, I did not encounter the same level of ostracisation for being a minority in London.

As with Malaysia, much of the British evaluation of the Covid-19 experience is strongly imbued with criticism of politicians. Brexit after its implementation remains a conductor for dispute, with some friends denouncing its economic effects and others believing it saved lives during the pandemic by enabling faster vaccinations in the UK compared to EU countries.

And, particularly during the tail-end of COP26, the UK’s role in environmental efforts was hotly debated, though achieving some vague consensus is better than none at all: conference president Alok Sharma apologised for appeasing China and India in “phasing down” rather than “phasing out” unabated coal power.

Further contradictions in British contemporary life came from two former coal power stations.

At the old Bankside, now the Tate Modern, every other gallery is now preluded by warnings that colonial, racist or otherwise oppressive or unsavoury content is inside.

It’s a far cry from the self-righteousness I encountered as a teenage student in the UK.

In the meantime, at Battersea, I saw how Malaysian investment has already transformed a long-disused site into an incredible new development, with top-tier commercial tenants soon to join the celebrities living in the gobsmacking apartments whose prices are totally out of reach to most Londoners.

Members of the British Malaysian Society asked me over breakfast what on earth was going on in Melaka and Malaysian politics more generally.

With so many tenuous promises resulting in flimsy configurations prone to change at any moment, I am hesitant to over-analyse details.

What we should look forward to is the application of Undi18 and execution of automatic voter registration. It is after that, at the subsequent general election, that our long-term political outlook may become more predictable.

I left the UK as its most defining national event took place: Remembrance Sunday, in which those who served in the two World Wars and later conflicts are commemorated for their sacrifices.

The power of such traditions – even as the Queen was absent with a back sprain – provides the stability that enables diverse political views, and I hope Malaysian traditions and institutions will be resilient enough to provide the same.

Tunku Zain Al-‘Abidin is founding president of Ideas. The views expressed here are the writer’s own.