The plan to stage the biggest organised display of public dissent since tens of thousands took to the streets in support of Anwar Ibrahim in September 1998 didn't quite materialise. Nonetheless, the weekend of Black 14 was a turning point of sorts in the ongoing reformasi movement.

For ordinary peace-loving Malaysians, the potential threats of violence and "molotov cocktails" were averted through firm police action; for the government, it was a show of strength and zero tolerance for dissent; and for the reformasi movement, Black 14 forced a rethink of tactics in the face of a police state.

The government may as well have declared a curfew over the weekend, had this not been too alarming. But the air of violence and intimidation had no less effect. The pre-emptive strike started casually but firmly enough in typical paternalistic fashion, first with the Prime Minister himself advising Malaysians not to partake in protests "to remember something" over the weekend.

Then came his deputy's warning that those who broke the law would feel its full weight, followed by more police warnings and threats of expulsion from university and jobs, and, on the eve of the weekend, the arrests of key opposition leaders.

The organisation of Black 14 was ambitious both in scale and open defiance; its website detailed a massive operation to transport protesters from the length of Peninsula Malaysia, by rail and road, to Kuala Lumpur, naming key opposition party leaders who would travel up north to Alor Star and Kota Baru and south to Seremban and Johor Baru to lead protesters to the capital city.

Included were train schedules, detailed instructions of what to do (bring national and state flags, towels, goggles) and to avoid (party flags, flag sticks, molotov cocktails or any weapons, and retaliating when beaten by police), and most importantly, the memorandum to the King requesting royal intervention to remove Mahathir from office for abuse of power, cruelty and disrespect of Islam.

The assembly was to begin after afternoon prayers at Masjid Negara where it would march to the royal palace to hand the memorandum to the King. Even if purported threats of violence by reformasi supporters did not materialise, an air of violence had quickly descended on the capital - roadblocks into the city, police carrying M-16 rifles at train stations, water cannons and truckloads of riot and field police at Dataran Merdeka, and heavy camera surveillance by plainclothes police and a police helicopter circling above.

Some would have considered this massive (and expensive) deployment of state forces against civilians warranted and a small price to pay for maintaining "peace and stability", even if the logic didn't extend to asking "Whose peace and stability?".

But downtown, regular Malaysians were already feeling the brunt of a police state; nobody outside police uniform or Special Branch moustache had any right to stand at Dataran Merdeka or outside Sogo. Regular Malaysians who suddenly felt the urge to shout "reformasi" could be certain of a free ride in the Black Maria.

By the morning of April 15, it appeared that reformasi was no match for the state. It was business as usual in KL; the thousands of reformasi supporters scheduled to have arrived by road and rail from all over the country were nowhere to be seen.

Instead, defiance was restricted to little pockets of skirmishes - a handful of protesters chased from Masjid Negara around midday, several more dispersed with water cannons following afternoon prayers, and 30 or so disappearing into Pertama Kompleks after being pursued by riot police.

By 5pm, it seemed that the number of people simply lepaking along Jalan TAR had grown, though trying to pick the reformasi supporter was not always easy; four well-dressed, head-scarved middle-age women stopped to ask me who I was and what I was waiting for.

They nodded in vague recognition on hearing malaysiakini, and when I explained the planned gathering, one of them said bitterly: "They spoiled our plans, exaggerating things ..."

"Where are the protesters?" I asked.

"Scattered everywhere."

"Are you all heading off then?"

"No, we''ll wait around for the right moment," and the four makcik reformasi bid me well, strolled off and casually sat not far behind a police Land Rover.

As the contingent of journalists staking out Sogo grew more restless, so did the reformasi supporters. The occasional scattered shouts of "reformasi" suddenly took shape as the casual crowd lining Jalan Tunku Abdul Rahman - a short distance from the heavily-guarded Sogo - chanted in unison, in call-response fashion, across the road. Men, women, young and not so young, and even families - the regular reformasi lot.

This was the protest everyone had been waiting for, but it was the police response that shaped Black 14. Swift, massive and unbridled, the simple, harmless verbal protest of several hundred loosely gathered Malaysians was met with force one would normally associate with armed insurrections - like Chechnya, perhaps - but wholly consistent with the actions of a police state.

Within minutes, traffic was stopped, police trucks moved in, tear gas was fired and riot police combed the streets. The police were armed to the teeth, and the protesters with one word: "reformasi". The ensuing battle, and terror, was inevitably one-sided, and quickly evolved into a game of cat and mouse.

In the face of such concerted and concentrated state forces (Dataran Merdeka, ironically, was transformed into a police battalion), the reformasi fighters, like their Chechnyan counterparts, quickly adapted new tactics, taunting the police, then melting into the evening crowd in Jalan Masjid India before regrouping further down Jalan Tunku Abdul Rahman to repeat the exercise.

Reformasi had quickly learned that, in this political climate, guerrilla tactics were ideally suited to get the message across, and to continue the public defiance of what was increasingly viewed as an authoritarian regime. In the end, both sides would claim victory: the government for its impressive show of authority and strength which effectively prevented the thousands-strong assembly promised by Black 14; and Reformasi for defying the odds.

KeADILan leader Tian Chua, who opted to stay out of public view (and away from the long arm of the law), claimed moral victory when he announced that the protesters would regather for evening prayers at Masjid India and then disperse.

"We have made our point - we plan to minimise casualties," he said in reference to some 47 arrests that day.

While respectable, law abiding Malaysians may view with distaste such shows of "lawlessness", or disapprove the tactics employed in public demonstrations, there are similarities with civil disobedience movements under Gandhi and Mandela - both who fought what they regarded as unjust laws and were violently dealt with.

The overkill display of force for something as harmless - even childlike in its defiance - as the Black 14 incident is nothing new. Throughout history, authoritarian governments have had little tolerance for dissent, be it an independent press, a religious sect (Falung Gong in China, Al-Arqam in Malaysia) or peaceful demonstrations.

Read in this light, Reformasi is the vanguard of Malaysia's democracy movement. More than the fight for one man, the reformasi movement has come to encapsulate the spirit of struggle which has been the seed of change throughout history. The risks taken and sacrifices made, no matter how futile they may appear today, will all be part of history tomorrow. And as history teaches us, change is inevitable.

Whatever our political leanings, the right to free assembly and freedom of expression is a fundamental part of our being human. The success of Reformasi may not be enjoyed by Anwar Ibrahim or even his children; but if we are concerned that future generations of Malaysians may enjoy greater liberties than we currently do - where differences of opinion are tolerated and peaceful assembly does not end in tear gas, water cannons and arrests - then sacrifices will have to be made, whether in the political arena or on the ground.

And let nobody brand a movement for reform and democracy a Western plot. As South Africans, East Timorese and even Indonesians will attest to, you do not have to be a Westerner to enjoy freedom.

JEFFREY TAN is weekend editor for Malaysiakini.com.