One of the more memorable phonecalls I received was from a 'Datuk' back in 1998.

It came just days after some five hundred Acehnese were forcibly removed from the Semenyih Detention Camp and deported to Sumatra. The international media was in frenzy, filing reports of shootings and beatings in the camp, of badly injured Acehnese dumped into small boats and ferried across the Straits. Three leaders from the Acehnese community group were arrested without trial under the Internal Security Act.

"Is this Suara Rakyat Malaysia?" he bellowed.

"Yes" I said.

"I'm Datuk --------. You are de one spreading lies about our country"

"Mmm. We have photographic evidence of Acehnese looking very dead."

"You know, I'm a Datuk."

"Mmm."

"You know, I have a big construction company."

"Every day, I have these people coming to my office begging for work. You know what I do? I make them kneel down in front of me and I take off my shoes. You know what?

"I make them kiss my feet."

"They cry, kiss my feet and say, 'Thank you, Datuk'."

"You know, these people are very lazy.You know, they #$%@ around and then they come here and #$%@ around with our local women "

(The rest of the dialogue shall not be reproduced for fear of offending aural sensibilities.)

Narrative of migration

That conversation alone is not indicative of how the majority of Malaysians view migrant workers, refugees and asylum-seekers. But one only has to surf to the commentary section of a BBC news article in February this year on the impending crackdown to see how xenophobic Malaysian society has become, or read the case files of Tenaganita, a non-governmental organisation who advocates for the rights of migrant workers.

It bears repeating that our history is a narrative of migration. Without this, this land will have only the Orang Asli (Peninsular) and Orang Asal (Borneo). If traders, pilgrims, migrants, admirals and princes of the past were asked, "Kertas mana?", there wouldn't be a nation-state called Malaysia.

There is an ongoing process of reconstructing and re-presenting today's migrant worker and asylum-seeker into someone outside the normative, thus 'not human'.

One example is the popular use of the word, 'Aliens', when describing them. This singular term is loaded with meanings which saturate our psyche, from the mass media to our living rooms, even appearing in what is passed off as academic writings or research.

From popular fiction we learn that 'Aliens' land in the darkness of the night to take over the world. These 'non-humans' dress funny and speak strange languages. They are the cause of all social ills and communicable diseases. Worse still, they have evil designs on our local women! They look different; even if they appear like one of us, something's usually amiss. So we band together with our high-tech arsenal. Exterminate or send them packing to where they belong.

When juxtaposed next to the 'Expatriate', we have a contradictory image in mind of suits and silken ties, glossy magazines for the 'community' and Hard Rock Caf.

This representation of aliens/ undocumented/illegal with its innate hysterical undertones, serves another purpose to strip them of any semblance of humanity, and by association, of dignity and rights. If they are less than human, then they do not deserve to be treated as one.

Uphold the principles

While we're not going to hold our breaths waiting for Malaysia to sign the International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of all Migrant Workers or the Convention on Refugees, this does not relieve the government of its obligation as a member of the United Nations.

Malaysia is duty-bound to uphold the principles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, in particular, the right to life, liberty and security. And yes, this includes migrant workers and asylum-seekers, documented or otherwise. As conventions further detail, it means the migrant worker has inherent liberties such as the right to due process and presumption of innocence, the right to freedom from torture, degrading and inhuman treatment, the right to equal treatment in regards to wages, benefits and conditions, and access to social services.

How many migrant workers here, who constitute more than 10 percent of our workforce, can confidently say they have these basic protections? How many refugees here, who have sought shelter and a brief respite from wars and troubles back home, sleep soundly without worrying when their homes will be raided next?

The crackdown on 'illegals' earlier this year has degenerated into another tragi-comedy. The construction industry is at a standstill and the agriculture industry is slowly rotting away. Our ever-changing immigration policies have made us a laughing stock internationally. Instead of being recognised for our work as defenders of just causes such as in Palestine and arbiter of regional conflicts, we have achieved international infamy as a country which whips migrant workers and refugees by the thousands.

We have asked that the government show compassion for those who toiled to build our homes and roads, hospitals and schools. We asked that the authorities and the judiciary to empathise with those who are defenseless in their home countries against tyranny and persecution.

Yet, there is little courage and compassion to go around these days. We have already forgotten the tragedy of December 26 last year. At that one point in time, we experienced the frailty of life and held on to the fragile web which binds us together.