Ramadan in Kuala Lumpur is normally a joyful time. Supermarkets are filled with extra aisles groaning with festive treats, while late afternoons are spent hunting down delicacies such as rendang tok (a rich, beef Malay curry) to lay in to “buka puasa” – break the fast – in the evening.
On the surface, this year is no exception. The mall at the base of the Malaysian capital’s iconic Petronas Twin Towers echoes to the sound of traditional songs as dancers weave their way round a set of colourful Melaka-inspired village houses in the centre court, and banners enjoining the viewer to look forward to “Hari Raya Aid Alfitri”, as the celebration of Eid Al Fitr is called here, are on every corner.
But beneath the cheerfulness for which Malaysians are rightly known, there is a palpable sense of a nation in profound shock that, only four months after the disappearance of Malaysia Airlines flight 370, another of the national carrier’s planes should have crashed with the loss of all on board.
The day after MH17 was shot down over Ukraine, we sat on the terrace of a friend’s house in Kuala Lumpur. While our children happily played in the pool, our host flicked through the breaking news on her phone. “I just can’t believe this has happened so soon after MH370,” she said. “I’m scared to fly.” She knew of someone who had a relative die, and the losses appear to be keenly and personally felt, including at the highest level of government – the defence minister, Hishamuddin Hussein and his cousin the prime minister, Najib Tun Razak, are among those who have lost loved ones.
Malaysians have taken to the internet to share their bewilderment and grief, and the coverage fills the newspapers every day. “Why does it have to be us?” was the plaintive headline in The Star, the country’s best-selling English newspaper, on Sunday.
That same day members of the country’s different religious groups – Muslims, Buddhists and Christians – united in praying for the victims of MH17 and their families, while the Sikh and Hindu communities are also due to offer special prayers this week. Last Saturday, Marina Mahathir, a well-known columnist and activist whose father, Dr Mahathir, is a former prime minister, was one of the organisers of a Puasa 4 Malaysia, a day of fasting observed by Muslims and non-Muslims “for unity and in memory of those lost”.
There have, however, also been different reactions. Despite the fact that in the week before MH17 was shot down, hundreds of flights went over the Donetsk region, some early responders on Malaysian social media directed their ire not at the Ukrainian separatists or Russia but at the airline, its employees and the Malaysian government.
Criticisms ranged from accusations of carelessness, even though the relevant international authorities had declared the route to be safe, to the deeply unpleasant: one Facebook commenter wrote that if the captain, a Malay Muslim, had not been fasting, he might have been sufficiently aware to have avoided the area. But in a country that has become so polarised on ethnic, religious and political grounds, that commenter was far from alone.
“That’s a reflection of where we are,” says Zaid Ibrahim, a prominent commentator, reformist and former law minister. “Some people are very distrustful, and their frustration and deep-seated anger can come out at the wrong places and at the wrong time.”
More encouraging, however, is that while anti-government postings on social media are common and normally gather an immediate chorus in the echo chamber of the internet, in this instance they have been roundly condemned, with many Facebook users threatening to defriend anyone who uses the tragedy to make a political point. Others have just ignored the conspiracy theorists and rabble rousers.
“Frankly I have refused to read much online because I am so shocked by this tragedy that really I haven’t seen those bad reactions,” says Ms Marina. “I saw one comment where someone said ‘Oh they’re never going to resign ...’ And I just asked ‘Who’s supposed to resign?’ And got no reply. Generally people have been good and realised that this is not something you can blame the government or Malaysian Airlines for.”
And there is a widespread view that whereas the disappearance of MH370 showed the Malaysian authorities as unprepared to deal with an incident of such scale and international attention, this time the government has acted swiftly and carefully.
“They’ve done well, I’m very proud of them,” says Zaid. “They could easily have made more of an outcry, but they’ve been proactive in the right way, focusing on getting back the bodies and the black box.”
That this was his approach was confirmed by the prime minister on Monday night when he announced the agreement with the rebels in charge of the crash site.
“In recent days, there were times I wanted to give greater voice to the anger and grief that the Malaysian people feel,” he said. “But sometimes, we must work quietly in the service of a better outcome.”
Another better outcome would be if this unity in tragedy could be extended to the public sphere in general. “It could be an opportunity for people to change their minds, to stop quibbling and put things into perspective,” says Zaid. He doubts it, but if the bitterness of Malaysia’s politics can be put aside even for a little while, that is to be welcomed, even among the shrouds of sorrow.
Sholto Byrnes is a Doha-based commentator and consultant
