I watched 'Election Day', which had supposedly contravened five out of eight guidelines imposed by Kuala Lumpur City Hall.

Theatre-goers in Kuala Lumpur had waited in suspense for City Hall to grant Five Arts Centre a permit to stage the show, and verbal approval was eventually issued on Feb 10.

However, it was not without painful consequences. With the orange streaks of highlighter, the whole script had been subjected to 200 severe snips of censorship.

The play, which featured a brilliant performance by Jo Kukathas, tells the story of betrayal, deceit and manipulation involving three friends - Francis, Fozi and Dedrick - during the 1999 general election.

It captured some of the relevance and essence of a national event in a hilarious way, in spite of the censor's silly attempts to remove references to people, political parties and places.

It was possible to guess who the actors were referring to - such as 'the smiley woman with the big hair'. If your guess is Shahrizat Abdul Jalil, then your pengetahuan am (general knowledge) would have been adequate for you to enjoy the show.

If you are aware of the national political scenario, you could have easily identified the peoples, jokes and locations. If not, you could refer to a helpful list pasted on the wall outside the studio, linking the new phrases with the original script.

As we become involved in the whirl of emotion shared by the three friends, and the presence of Fozi's enigmatic and beautiful girlfriend, Natasha, we are asked to deny the background of this conflict which was the 1999 elections.

Although the playwright's insight was maintained, I could not help feeling that City Hall had greatly interfered in his creative process and space, as well as his independence and autonomous control over his work.

I wondered why there was a need to censor when Huzir Sulaiman had included the original script in his book 'Eight Plays'. What City Hall did was an insult to our intelligence.

Censorship forces theatre companies to abide by a narrow and confined meaning of 'expression' and, in this case, insists that the audience should ignore reality even if it related to a past general election.

Curbs on truth

City Hall's list of banned or censored plays is growing - 'The Vagina Monologues', ' Bolehwood ' and now, 'Election Day'.

It appears that the authorities will not stop at anything to ensure that their power and interests remain unchallenged by the truth. It is well known that other forms of media in Malaysia are also subjected to restrictions and censorship via laws and administrative guidelines.

Big Brother has designed strategies for every level of our society to ensure that our mouths and minds are sealed tight, to prevent us from voicing dissent over corruption and injustice.

I recall a similar sort of oppression experienced by well-known Indonesian playwright Ratna Sarumpet, who wrote 'Marsinah: Nyanyian Dari Bawah Tanah' in 1994. She wrote this to commemorate a labour activist's struggle for justice and of her brutal death.

Ratna co-operated with ABU-Teater Aneka Buruh because she felt that, as an artist from the middle-class arts community, she should utilise her literary skills effectively on behalf of workers.

Her first play attracted a middle-class audience, but the next one, 'Marsinah Menggugat' was banned by the police in 1997.

Attempts to translate the story into plays were also stunted by the refusal of the Jakarta Regional Government's Socio-Political Directorate, among others, to grant permits to theatre groups.

'Consider other strategies'

I was upset at the end of 'Election Day' because not more than 15 members of the audience stayed back for a discussion on censorship. Either the rest had more interesting plans for a Friday night, or they just did not feel it was worth their while to spare 30 minutes for the discussion.

Their nonchalance in dismissing a chance to have their say in that discussion proves that the majority are not ready to seriously consider the matter as their problem or as one relevant to society as a whole.

They may have watched the play for enjoyment or because it was the fashionable thing to do - after all, for many, a show is only a show.

The struggle for freedom of expression in the politically conscious theatre scene requires everyone to stand together and generate support for such efforts.

Five Arts, as producer of the play, should play a more pro-active role in joining hands with those outside the theatre circle in resisting City Hall `s attempts to curb initiatives to convey social and political messages through theatre.

Even though, in respect of the 'Election Day", Five Arts was forced to choose the lesser of two evils - maintain the content and cancel the show or adjust and continue - the theatre company and its counterparts must consider other strategies apart from compromising with City Hall.

I fear that City Hall could misconstrue compromise as a sign of willingness of theatre companies to give in and allow control of the content of future productions.

Five Arts should consider lodging a report or submitting a memorandum to the Human Rights Commission of Malaysia, as this is a definite case of breach of Article 10 of the Federal Constitution and Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights 1948.

Francis, at the end of the play, claimed that his act of deceit towards both his friends was not due to the elections but his love for Natasha.

In the same vein, I strongly protest City Hall's censorship policy not because of my sentiments over the 1999 general election, but because of my love for a free and democratic society.

GEE is a pseudonym of a final-year law student, attached with youth advocacy group Independent Student Resource and Legal Training Centre (Isrec). She is a first-time theatre-goer.