By Shareem Amry
THIRTY years may have passed since the infamous riots of May 13, 1969,
but the ghosts of this
bloody episode in Malaysian history remain alive, forever entrenched in
the national psyche.
Kuala Lumpur and pockets throughout the country were turned into a terrified
shells of
themselves, how over a hundred people lost their lives and how homes and
vehicles were set on
fire and left smoking on the streets. Perhaps no one should.
But now memories are being turned into political weapons in the run-up
to the upcoming general
election, which are widely believed to be held this year.
During a Sept 29 speech in Penang, Keadilan vice-president Marina Yusof
allegedly said Umno
leaders and members led by former Selangor Menteri Besar Datuk Harun Idris
had planned and
carried out massacres of the Chinese community during the incident.
For these reasons, she reportedly said, the Chinese community should not
vote for the Barisan
Nasional when general elections are called.
It is true that the Chinese community suffered the heaviest death toll
during the riots. Of the 196
lives lost, 143 of them, or an overwhelming 73 per cent, were Chinese.
But documents about the May 13 incident, and accounts from Malaysians who
lived through the
riots, don't point accusing fingers in that direction.
In the immediate, stunned aftermath of the riots, then Prime Minister Tunku
Abdul Rahman
penned a book entitled May 13: Before and After, in which he blamed Malaysian
Communists
and Opposition parties for events which eventually triggered the bloodbath.
In April of that year, the general election campaign was in full swing
and Communists keen to
exploit tensions between competing political parties began to wage their
own campaign for an
election boycott.
In the jittery days that followed, on May 4, police killed a 24-year-old
Chinese male after he and
other men in his group, who had been painting signs on the road, refused
to follow instructions
and put up a fierce struggle.
The Tunku wrote that the man's funeral on May 9, the day before the nation
went to the polls,
"became one of the largest ever seen in Kuala Lumpur. The Communists made
sure of that."
"It was not a funeral at all in the accepted sense, but was turned into
a Communist political
demonstration of the most hostile nature," he added of the day-long affair.
Just days later, when results from polling began trickling in, it became
clear that the ruling Alliance
Government had suffered heavy losses.
On May 12, to celebrate their unexpected election success, the then Opposition
Gerakan party
held a victory procession in the city, an event that was eventually join
by members of the DAP.
Eyewitness accounts of the procession speak of procession members repeatedly
hurling insults at
Malays and figures of authorities, such as police. While Gerakan leaders
made a public apology
for the debacle the next day, the damage had been done.
"...It is clear that the Gerakan leaders had now lost control of the elements
and emotions they had
unleashed...After dispersal, their supporters split up into various groups,
going to different areas
to carry on," the Tunku wrote.
May 13 dawned, by which time racial and political tensions were at an all time high.
That evening there was a fracas along Jalan Raja Muda in which some Chinese
were assaulted,
sparking a communal bloodletting that haunt Malaysians to this day.
Four months later, the National Operations Council, which took over administrative
rule after
Parliament was suspended in the wake of the violence, issued a report entitled
"The May 13
Tragedy."
The report outlined the same complex and racially-charged background that
it said helped
prepare the grounds for such unthinkable violence. But no one person was
fingered for blame.
As far as the NOC was concerned, May 13 was not a carefully-planned plot
engineered by a
mastermind, but a chain of events which cascaded straight into disaster.
Some Malaysians who lived through those bleak days, and who have grown
weary of its
re-appearance in headlines over the years, wish the spectre of May 13 would
be laid to rest,
once and for all.
"I think references to it irritate a lot of people," said former Deputy
Health Minister Datuk K.
Pathmanaban, who was then a 32-year-old senior officer with the Economic
Planning Unit.
"They see these references as threats and using ominous fears of what happened,
but that is
totally unneccessary. There's no reason to revive old ghosts _ it's not
healthy and doesn't confer
any benefits," he said.
Historian Prof Datuk Khoo Kay Kim, who had just joined the Universiti Malaya's
faculty in
1969, also expressed frank exasperation at how some quarters insisted on
stirring up old
memories.
"I personally don't like to think about what happened, about how terrified
people were and how
many were killed. And I think that we have done well since that time."
Khoo remembered that he had been especially saddened by the riots, as he
had hoped
Malaysians would have learned their lesson from similar riots which broke
out in 1945.
"But I was sadly mistaken. People have such short memories."
As for the specific allocation of blame, Pathmanaban said the complexity
of the situation at the
time made the question far too complex to answer "in a factual way."
"The situation created the riots. The elections had been tense, there was
a lot of anxiety, and
finally everything just blew _ it doesn't really matter who threw the first
stone," he said.
Datuk A. Nelson agreed: "When emotions were aroused, people just went off
the handle. So
how can you say who is to blame?"
Nelson, who was acting head of publications at the Information Department
at the time, found
himself stranded in his office at Jalan Tun Perak (formerly Jalan Mountbatten)
for 48 hours after
curfew was imposed.
He dismissed allegations that Government leaders had been behind the ugly
incident, and said that
Harun, the man at the centre of Keadilan's charge, was not deserving of
any blame either.
"That is hogwash. In fact, he tried to stop the riots, but when he was
trying to calm everyone
down, some party members locked him in a room and said 'bye-bye.'"
"Why bring this up after 30 years? What is the motive? It will only revive
old feelings. Have these
people got unassailable proof?"
Khoo said he didn't believe specific blame should be assigned.
"In a general sense, everyone shares some blame for what happened. It's
better not to point
fingers because it solves nothing and can aggravate the situation."
"We should be looking at the root of what happened, and take it from there."
In his book, the Tunku had written of his despair at seeing Malaysians
turn against each other,
and how their fury had consumed everything around them.
"Kuala Lumpur was a city on fire," he wrote. "I could clearly see the conflagrations
from my
residence at the top of the hill and it was a sight I never thought I would
see in my lifetime."
For Malaysians like Pathnaban, Nelson and Khoo, the passage of thirty years
has done much to
dull the anguish of those terror-filled days.
Rather than dragging those events back to the light of the present day,
in order to hang it around
the necks of those whom some may believe are responsible, they would rather
that Malaysians
studied the lessons yielded by history.