Who will defend the common?

The notification flashes on my screen, a cold digital reminder that the transfer to my mother has been blocked. For three months, her account is frozen. Three months of her waiting, of me explaining over a crackling line that I don’t know why, that the bank just says it’s procedure. It’s a special kind of helplessness, this feeling. You work, you scrape together what you can to send home, and a system you don’t understand can just halt your life with a click. As if the banks are complicit in keeping us in our place, in this constant state of financial insecurity. And it’s not just the money. It’s the feeling of being watched, the low hum of suspicion that follows you. A phone seized, someone followed for days. These aren't just stories; they're warnings that echo through our communities, making us lower our voices and glance over our shoulders. The question hangs in the thick Malé air, heavier than the humidity: who will defend the common person when the institutions that are supposed to serve us become sources of fear? We navigate this tension daily, this space between faith and frustration. Some use religion as a cudgel, making wrongful accusations just to score points, while others of us cling to its true teachings of justice and fear of God. It creates a confusing landscape where solidarity is fragile and trust is the rarest currency. The political colors and slogans change, but the underlying struggle feels the same—a battle for a voice, for a bit of stability, for the simple right to provide for our families without unseen forces working against us. So we adapt. We find ways around the blocks, we speak in codes, we offer quiet support to those who are targeted. There’s a resilience born from this pressure, a stubborn refusal to be completely silenced. But the fatigue is real. The sea has always been rough, but now it feels like the very boats we’re in are being tampered with. We’re left asking, in the quiet of our own minds, who truly stands with us in the struggle for the common good, and if that good is something we have to build for ourselves, despite everything.