The Bajau Laut Dilemma

STATELESSNESS has always been a significant issue in Malaysia, not because stateless individuals cause any problems for society, but because they are unable to do anything despite being law-abiding (excluding the fact that they are undocumented). While many non-governmental organisations (NGOs) are fighting for their rights, the struggle still has a long way to go, as it remains extremely difficult for stateless people to bring about positive changes in their lives.

Such is the case for about 500 stateless Bajau Laut residing in Sabah, whom the authorities evicted in early June on multiple grounds, including their illegal farming, fishing, and building structures without permission, as well as security concerns.

The eviction has sparked outrage from NGOs, condemning the authorities for committing such a heinous act against the helpless, leaving many in an even more vulnerable state. However, public perception towards the Bajau Laut has always been mixed. Some people support their integration into society, while others treat them like illegal migrants responsible for many societal issues, including crime.

Setting aside the mythical link between migrants and crime, their origin is one of the most debated factors in the whole saga of the stateless Bajau Laut.

The Bajau Laut are part of the larger ethno-linguistic community known as the Sama Bajau, which spans the Philippines, Sabah in Malaysia, and the eastern part of Indonesia (Hassan & Peters, 2020). While some Bajau have successfully integrated into the community since Sabah’s independence and the formation of Malaysia, and are now considered one of the indigenous groups in Sabah, a portion of the Bajau have chosen to continue their lives as sea nomads.

As such, they live in a limbo of statelessness, unable to enjoy the benefits of citizenship such as education and healthcare, while being discriminated against by others (Hassan & Peters, 2020; Madlan et al., 2014).

Due to the nature of sea nomads freely roaming between the waters of different nations, the origin of stateless Bajau Laut in Malaysia has always been debated. Some suggest that they are of Philippine descent who illegally migrated to Malaysia in past decades.

The speculation did not arise out of thin air.

According to Chuah (2016), during the Mindanao civil war in the Philippines, Sabah received two waves of civilian migration, with the first involving Bajau Laut in 1972 and 1974. At the time, Sabah was reported to have between 100,000 and 200,000 Filipino Displaced Persons (FDP), and a census in 1977 revealed that there were 25,800 FDP in Semporna, comprising half of the local population there.

After the initial mass migration in the 1970s, there was another mass migration from Mindanao in the 1980s. However, Chuah (2016) mentioned that it was unclear if the Bajau Laut continued to migrate into Sabah at that time.

These historical events have made the situation much more complicated, not only for those who migrated after the formation of Malaysia but also for the indigenous Bajau Laut, who have lived in Sabah for centuries yet face problems obtaining citizenship as they continue living as sea nomads.

Even if Project IC existed (the investigation into its existence has not definitively concluded that it did, with the Royal Commission of Inquiry/RCI only stating that “there is a probability that such a project did exist at all material times”), the Bajau Laut have not benefitted from it, as Chuah suggest that the Bajau Laut people pose no political interest to the elite, who therefor have no incentive to naturalise them as citizens of Malaysia (Chuah, 2016; The Malaysian Insider, 2014).

That said, Bajau Laut have been living in a state of limbo for the past half-century.

Back to the present, where more than 500 Bajau Laut were forcefully evicted by the authorities, and allegedly have their stilt house being destroyed by said authorities during the eviction.

The eviction is inevitable, as they did not have permission under the law to build or start any farming activities. It is true that their circumstances forced them into this state, but the authorities, even though their actions were unjustifiably cruel, were merely carrying out their duties as law enforcers. There certainly are better ways to execute their duties, but the more important question that needs an answer now: what should we do for the Bajau Laut?

One of the most common suggestions is to grant the Bajau Laut citizenship of Malaysia. However, public concern over the origin of the Bajau Laut, as mentioned before, has made this a very complicated issue, with many people worried about the potential reincarnation of Project IC and its implications.

Yet, letting them stay in Malaysia and potentially granting them citizenship seems to be the only option left, aside from deporting them to an uncertain fate. Their statelessness is not by their own choice but the result of various actions by various parties, including past governments, over the decades.

Such is our dilemma about the Bajau Laut.

From a humanitarian perspective, what they need is not just Malaysian citizenship but a way to integrate into our society. While citizenship would certainly help, they need much more than just a legal status in Malaysia.

Additionally, some Bajau Laut lack a fundamental understanding of Malay, which is required by our Federal Constitution (Article 19) for naturalisation as a Malaysian citizen.

Some may argue that the Bajau Laut are just like all other indigenous people in Sabah and thus automatically deserve citizenship. However, due to the complex nature of the Bajau Laut as sea-faring nomads, compared to other indigenous people who live on land, their origins will always be under heavy scrutiny for the reasons mentioned above. Thus, naturalisation would be the best way to progress without drawing heavy criticism from any parties or violating the Federal Constitution, provided they fulfil the requirements.

The best course of action for the Bajau Laut, whose origins are disputed, would be to grant the adult Bajau Laut permanent residency first. Permanent residency in Malaysia would provide them with the right to lawful employment, which is essential for them to sustain themselves and their families.

Securing employment would be challenging on the go, especially for those who do not speak Malay or English. The government would need to prepare training programmes to help them find secure employment on land or, if they wish to continue their traditional way of life, at sea—at least provide adequate training to engage in modern and sustainable maritime activities.

In addition to employment opportunities, the government will have to cooperate with various organisations to facilitate Malay language learning sessions to help the Bajau Laut acquire the fundamental skills necessary for communicating in our national language, so that they can be lawfully naturalised.

As for the newborns of Bajau Laut who have acquired permanent residency but are ineligible for naturalisation, their children would still be able to obtain citizenship by operation of law under Section 1(a) of Part II of the Second Schedule in the Federal Constitution, provided the new citizen bill scheduled to be debated in October does not amend this section.

As for youths under the age of 21, they could be registered as citizens under Article 15A of the Federal Constitution. This would ensure that these children have equal access to healthcare and education, which are vital for the improvement of their society, and the elevation of their socio-economic status.

At the end of the day, not everyone will agree to accept the Bajau Laut as Malaysians. However, we should not continue ignoring their plight. We have done so in the past, leading to the current situation, where an eviction has solved nothing but only sparked more issues.

It is necessary to address this issue now, before the situation continues to worsen in the future.

Chia Chu Hang is a Research Assistant at EMIR Research, an independent think tank focused on strategic policy recommendations based on rigorous research. The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect those of Sinar Daily.