Naked people power

In the weeks leading up to last Sunday, the first anniversary of the March 8, 2008 general election ‘tsunami’, the tide was apparently turning so strongly against the forces of freedom and democracy in Malaysia that it was really getting me down.

It seems to have been nothing but wave after wave of evil tidings, among these the Sultan-sanctioned power-grab in Perak; the still-unexplained circulation of intimate pictures and departure of Elizabeth Wong; endless suspicions and allegations still swirling around the Altantuya Shaariibuu murder; and the continued ‘disappearance’ of private investigator Bala.

There was yet another deeply suspect death of a person in police custody; still more mysterious police shootings of “suspects”; the usual politically-selective investigations and prosecutions of corruption and other crimes; the impending court appearances of Anwar Ibrahim on a sodomy charge and Raja Petra Kamarudin for sedition; and the continued incarceration of the Hindraf 5 under the notorious Internal Security Act.

But let me not go on and on with this list, as I’ll start drowning in despondency all over again. And that would be a bit of a waste because, last weekend, my wife and Sydney’s gay and lesbian community wonderfully buoyed my sinking spirits by reminding me how much progress is possible, even in apparently hopeless situations.

My wife got in first, reminding me of our shared philosophy that goes something like “when life’s a total bitch, it’s time to hit the beach”.

And not just any beach, but Cobbler’s, our favourite of Sydney’s nude beaches. As we long ago learned, and I’d somehow overlooked or forgotten in my obsessive depression about events in Malaysia, totally baring one’s body to the sun, sand and sea is wonderfully good for the soul.

I’m not quite sure why. But as embarrassing, immodest or even immoral as it might seem to some, the shucking-off one’s clothes seems to symbolise a shedding of cares. And the feat of overcoming initial shyness and self-consciousness feels somehow liberating and even empowering.

It wasn’t always this way. Forty years ago, all of Sydney’s public beaches were strictly censored by inspectors charged with banishing or fining people wearing swimsuits that were deemed too skimpy.

Through decades of popular demand, however, the rules have been progressively relaxed. While the vast majority of bathers still prefer to go at least partially clad, those of us who feel like it are free to go naked - only, of course, in specified locations specially selected for their relative inaccessibility and invisibility, the better to protect the young, the proper and the prudish against the risk of unbearable sights.

But at least nude beaches are provided for the minority of us who enjoy them, and that, to me, represents real social progress.

Attitudes transformed

I have to say, however, that the hard-fought right to a spot of skinny-dipping, as satisfying as some of us find it, pales to insignificance compared with the other event that cheered me so much: the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras.

Founded in 1978 as a small protest march against the rampant homophobia afflicting Australia back then, these days the Mardi Gras is unquestionably one of Sydney’s most celebrated events.

This year, 10,000 gays, lesbians, transsexuals and adults of every other conceivable gender, none of them actually naked, admittedly, but most of them scantily, weirdly or outrageously costumed, paraded to the delight of an estimated 300,000 spectators and a television audience of millions more.

In what has become a much-loved tradition, the contingent known as ‘dykes on bikes’ led the way on their Harleys and other thunderous machines, and a riotous throng came marching, dancing, prancing and partying in their wake, bearing banners identifying them as representing an amazing array of clubs, nationalities, corporations, churches, civil-service departments and even the police and armed services.

The Mardi Gras isn’t a protest any more, it’s a march of triumph. A proud, loud, joyous celebration of liberation from the prejudice, fear, and other historic evils of homophobia.

Through years of persistent people power, courageous gay activists have changed society’s attitudes and laws from hostility through grudging tolerance to today’s wholehearted acceptance.

These days the huge crowds, drawn by the spectacle, colour, sexual variety, common humanity and happiness of it all, clearly come every year not to jeer, but cheer.

With the battle so largely won, this year’s event wasn’t just about celebrating Sydney’s acceptance of its gay and lesbian brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, but a message to the wider world.

Themed ‘Nations United’, it was billed as “a tribute to homosexuals around the world who don’t enjoy the freedoms of Australia”.

As head organiser David Imrie told Yahoo!7, "We hope Mardi Gras can act as a beacon for our gay brothers and sisters everywhere”.

And gays everywhere are in dire need of a beacon, as, according to a message on a T-shirt worn by Amnesty International marcher Britney Guilleaume, they can apparently still be imprisoned in 77 nations, and in seven, actually executed.

In Malaysia, of course, people accused of sodomy can be beaten - or worse - in police custody before being jailed like Anwar Ibrahim so unjustly was, and may well be again if the government persists with its latest ludicrous charge against him.

But however many freedom-loving citizens there are in Malaysia, public protests in favour of gay rights seem no more likely in the forseeable future than a push for nude beaches.

In any case, there are far more pressing problems for Malaysians to resolve by sheer force of numbers. Despite failing to achieve their immediate aims, the huge Bersih and Hindraf rallies of 2007 at least revealed to all concerned that the government is terrified of massive public protest.

And therefore, it seems to me, that short of waiting patiently and possibly in vain for a free and fair 2013 general election, the only way for the rakyat to vent its rage against the Barisan Nasional’s barefaced corruption and systematic perversion of justice is with more and bigger public demonstrations and an aggressive voter-registration drive.

In other words, as the Filipinos proved to the Marcos gang and the Indonesians showed Suharto, when it comes to stripping an obscene regime of its cloak of invincibility, nothing beats naked displays of raw people power.