Malaysia’s Crisis of Confidence
KUALA
LUMPUR, Malaysia — At a coffee shop in Bangsar, an affluent Kuala
Lumpur suburb, the lunchtime crowd gossips and checks the news on their
smartphones. Making the rounds is a YouTube video in which a bomoh — a
local shaman — and two acolytes, sitting on a “magic carpet” in Kuala
Lumpur International Airport, perform a ritual to find Malaysia Airlines
Flight 370, missing since March 8.
At
any other time the video, a perfect example of Malaysian self-mockery,
would be a good-natured affirmation of our eccentric shortcomings. But
these aren’t ordinary times. The search for Flight 370 has spotlighted
the tensions beneath one of Asia’s success stories, and the video is an
uncomfortable reminder of Malaysia’s troubled reality.
A
British colony until 1957, Malaysia now has a G.D.P. per capita of over
$10,000, roughly twice that of Thailand and three times that of
Indonesia. Cesar Pelli’s glorious Petronas Twin Towers, briefly the
tallest buildings in the world, illuminate the Kuala Lumpur skyline. In
the adjoining mall, Western luxury brands are peddled to a booming
middle class. Malaysia Airlines, whose fleet boasts the gigantic Airbus
A380 and is one of a handful of 5-star-rated airlines, is central to the
branding of this “New Malaysia.”
Support
for the government is eroding, but critics say that attempts to effect
change are frequently stifled. A day before Flight 370 disappeared,
Anwar Ibrahim, Malaysia’s opposition leader, was convicted on the rarely
used charge of sodomy and sentenced to five years in prison. Many see
the decision, which overturns a previous acquittal, as politically
motivated. It leaves him ineligible to run in an approaching election in
Selangor, the country’s richest and most populous state, where victory
would have afforded him considerable national influence.
Most
people I speak to here acknowledge that an incident like the
disappearance of Flight 370 is unprecedented and say they appreciate the
monumental task facing the government. For many, however, the
authorities’ ponderous response and mishandling of information mirror
the way Malaysia is run. The offhand, sometimes defensive nature of the
early press conferences, coupled with occasional attacks on the foreign
media, are widely perceived as the arrogance of a government
unaccustomed to global attention and accountability.
In
addition to showcasing the country’s internal vulnerabilities, the
disappearance of Flight 370 has underlined China’s increasing influence
on Malaysia. That two-thirds of the passengers on Flight 370 were
Mainland Chinese underscores the strength of current ties.
The
impact of China’s economic rise is striking. Last October, a treaty
signed by China’s president, Xi Jinping, elevated relations between the
two countries to a “comprehensive strategic partnership” aimed at
increasing military cooperation and tripling bilateral trade to $160
billion by 2017. Today, China is Malaysia’s largest trading partner;
Malaysia is China’s third most important Asian market after Japan and
South Korea.
This
is a marked reversal of the longstanding distrust of the People’s
Republic. From 1948 to 1960, Malaysia waged a bitter struggle with
communist insurgents, many of them ethnic Chinese, and the conflict
deepened racial tensions. Beijing, widely seen to be supporting the
rebels, was regarded with suspicion as the specter of communism haunted
relations long after the insurgency ended. Travel to China was
restricted until the early 1990s.
These
days the picture looks very different. Tourists from Mainland China are
encouraged to come spend their cash in the shopping malls of Kuala
Lumpur and Penang. Young Malaysian filmmakers are finding Chinese
financing for their projects. Rich Malaysians are adding works by
Chinese artists to their collections.
But
some people fear Malaysia’s handling of the Flight 370 tragedy will
damage blossoming socioeconomic ties. Two days after the jetliner
disappeared, the frustrated Chinese government tersely demanded that
Malaysian authorities “step up their efforts” to find the missing plane.
How China, caught between anger and grief, exerts its considerable
influence in the days and weeks to come will hint at its long-term
strategy in the region.
In
Malaysia, the expression “Malaysia Boleh,” which translates roughly to
“Malaysia Can Do It,” or “Go, Malaysia,” is invoked to celebrate even
the tiniest national achievement. It reflects a fragile self-confidence,
revealing Malaysia’s sense of itself as superficially advanced but
secretly lacking. It tacitly acknowledges that skyscrapers and luxury
malls cannot mask the gap between rich and poor (the widest in Southeast
Asia), persistent ethnic tensions, a fraught democracy, and a wave of
high-profile violent crimes.
Like
many in Kuala Lumpur, I scrutinize every scrap of information relating
to Flight 370. I am gripped by the story, not only because hundreds of
lives are involved, but because of what its outcome will mean to
perceptions of Malaysia. As Malaysia navigates this tragedy in the glare
of the world’s gaze, I anxiously await news of the plane and its
passengers, and clues to the country’s evolution in the years ahead.
Tash Aw is the author of three novels, including, most recently, “Five Star Billionaire.”
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