SHUT UP, SIT DOWN AND LISTEN
Much has already been said and written about the ruckus over the Malaysian Bar Council’s “sensitively titled” forum “Conversion to Islam: Article 121(1A) of the Federal Constitution, Subashini & Shamala Revisited” to discuss the implications and ramifications of the Article. Thus my purpose for this piece is not so much to analyze the incident as to share my observations and thoughts as an eyewitness.
When I jumped at the chance to attend such a forum, little did I imagine that I would be caught in such an emotional uproar of protest by gatecrashers. That lack of caution reflects either a naivety or a sense of hope — or both — that perhaps there are still avenues in Malaysia for her citizens to discuss, with openness and respect, issues that certain quarters deem to be “sensitive”.
Even when my companions and I arrived at the Bar Council building and were greeted by the deceptively calm scene of protestors quietly unfurling their banners that carried such words as “Jangan cabar Islam”, “Bar Council jangan gugat Islam” and “Jangan main api”, I pushed back uneasy thoughts of demonstrators turning violent and the whole event ending in tragedy. It helped, of course, that we had the somewhat reassuring presence of the police. The thought of Molotov cocktails — two bottles of which were later found by police on the steps of the building — being used were also furthest from my mind. I was more focused on educating myself, a young Malaysian who has lived in comfort all her life, on the undeserved sufferings and injustice that many of my fellow Malaysians have had to endure, and still do.
The forum began a little late and proceeded without incident, to the background noise of demonstrators shouting outside. For about 40 minutes, we managed to hear the heart-breaking stories of two affected families and then the views of the three panellists before the disappointing announcement was made by Bar Council president Datuk Ambiga Sreenevasan that the forum had to be prematurely closed at 10am for security reasons. The panellists’ discussion then continued.
What happened just 20 minutes later is something I consider a questionable privilege for me to have witnessed.
Two burly men entered the room, strode down the aisle with a highly exaggerated air of authority and then firmly planted themselves in front of the panellists, arms folded over their chests, not unlike bouncers standing guard outside a club. My first thought was, “Hey, it’s only 10 minutes to 10. Why the need for these security guards to behave so unceremoniously and interrupt the forum?” Within seconds, some police officers were escorting in several grim-looking men and ushering them to the front of the room. Of course, the “security guards” were really two of the leaders of the demonstration.
When their patience finally wore out and they could take no more of the panellists’ discussion, the two burly men decided to take matters into their own hands and shouted “TUTUP!” and “Close NOW!”, hence shutting the forum down. The show of utter arrogance, disrespect, insult and intimidation not only tested the patience of everyone present, to put it mildly, but also stood in stark contrast to the self-control, civility and maturity of the organizers and the audience in general. That the police handled the rabble-rousers with kid gloves added exasperation to injury.
I could only look on in an emotional soup of disbelief, disgust, bewilderment, great disappointment and, what I would understand later as, inexpressible grief. All the while, my heart was pounding furiously. I know if I had the stature of Chinese basketball player Yao Ming, instead of simply sitting there helpless and scandalized, I would not have hesitated to get up, grab both intruders by the scruff of their necks and tell them to “shut up, sit down and LISTEN to the sensitivities of others too!”
”Were you scared?” some friends asked me later. I think I didn’t have time to be. I was too busy taking in the sights, flashing lights, and barrage of sound and fury — and video-recording parts of it on my phone.
And so the forum ended on a discordant note, an atmosphere of resignation and consternation hanging in the air. After the storm, some of us did not hurry to leave as advised, but stayed on to speak with the Bar Council members and panellists, and acquaintances. Others of us looked out the window at the now more than 200-strong protestors who had gathered. Instead of feeling anger on seeing the crowd, however, I felt a great sense of sadness welling up in my heart and eyes. Instead of seeking and standing for truth and justice, these people had come out in full force to fight for a cause based on gross lies and misunderstanding.
Did not Christ come to set the captives free, and to make the lame to walk and the blind to see? Are the protestors not also — even as we believers used to be, and some remain so — the captives, the lame and the blind?
As I mulled over this event in the following days and tried to make sense of my own feelings and response to it, the message that came to me was that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12) and that “the weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds” (2 Corinthians 10:4).
And as I continue to draw lessons from this rare opportunity to have been right in the middle of something in which the Enemy’s work is clearly seen, I am reminded that Christ Himself, in complete humility and dependence on His Father, fought His biggest battles on His knees. He then got up to claim His victory.
A quote from Beth Moore’s The Beloved Disciple best sums up this experience for me:
”God is too faithful to let us hide forever. We have to come out from behind those pristine walls [that keep the niceties in and the unpleasantries out] sooner or later, and when we do, one of these days we’re going to have a head-on collision with reality. The kind of reality that begs the question, ‘What are you going to do about this?’”
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