A Doctor in The House: A Memoir of Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad (10 page)

As a teenager, I used to wonder why education was not available to more people. This thought grew more powerful when I went to university. There were only seven Malays among the 70-odd medical and dental students in my batch. That made me determined to see an increase in the number of Malays reaching higher education. All they needed was the creation of more opportunities. Throughout my career I made education a top priority and worked to make it as accessible as possible, especially to Malays.

My own education was supplemented with the books and magazines I read while growing up. Before the war I was class librarian for Standard Four. It was my job every Thursday to buy magazines like 
Rover
, 
Champion
, and 
Film Fun
 for the library. The Kedah weekend was from Thursday to Saturday so I had two-and-a-half days to read all the stories—even captions and advertisements—before putting the new issues in the class library. I loved stories about fictitious British heroes like Rockfist Rogan and Mad Carew, ace fighter pilots who shot down German planes with ease. Then there was Jack Keen ‘Tec, the detective who never failed to get his man.

I saw those characters as typical of the White Man, or 
Orang Putih
, and I wanted to emulate them, particularly their bravery, the way they planned their moves and their coolness in the face of danger. They were disciplined men who kept their word. They never gave up, despite the terrible dangers they faced. Becoming like them, I believed, might help me become a person who stands up to challenges. I too wanted to coolly assess my situation, weigh my weaknesses and strengths against those of my opponents, calmly plan my strategies and put them into action.

I grew up not minding being ruled by the British. When I was learning the history of the British Empire in school, I was naïve enough to feel proud to be a part of it. I even contributed my pocket money to the Malaya Patriotic Fund, which the British Colonial Administration set up to help pay for World War II. Every 11 November—Armistice Day, marking the day World War I ended in 1918—I would buy an artificial poppy flower and pin it to my shirt to help support the war veterans. On that day the normally aloof wives of British expatriates would come to the school with their trays of paper flowers and slotted tin cans to collect donations. To my adolescent eyes, the “mems” were gorgeous. I was truly a young Anglophile, but I believe most people in Malaya were pro-British in those days. I accepted British news reports as the truth because there was no other source of information to rely on. Malaya, our teachers told us from our early years, was so peaceful, and its different races lived together without jealousy, animosity, or history of racial conflict. In fact, they said ours was a country with no history at all. With that one, short, ill-informed sentence, the whole history of my country was dismissed. It was as if there had been no Malaccan Empire, no Portuguese conquest, and no European colonisation. Our history began and ended when the country mysteriously became British Malaya.

Since we had no past of our own, we learnt only the history of the British Empire. We were familiar with the Wars of the Roses, the Seven Years’ War, the Kings and Queens of England, Oliver Cromwell, the Norman invasion and the Hundred Years’ War in Europe. We learnt about the Roman Empire and the Napoleonic Wars. There was no mention of the 800 years when Spain was under Muslim rule, except for a vague reference to the Moors. Nor was there any mention of Eastern Europe being under Turkish rule. We read of the scalp-hunting Red Indian savages, the Spanish Main, the setting up of Australia as a penal colony, and about the rest of the Empire on which the sun never set. Every classroom had a map of the world with British Imperial territories marked in bright red, encircling the globe.

Strangely, when Malays spoke of the 
Orang Putih
, they seemed to refer only to the British. They would speak about the 
Orang Puteh
 fighting the Germans, as if the Germans themselves were not white. We were always on the side of the British. I remember reading about the dervishes fighting against General “Chinese” Gordon in Khartoum, Sudan. I was glad when I read that they were mowed down by Gatling machine guns as they charged the British forces. That Sudan belonged to the Sudanese and that they were fighting to rid their country of British imperialists did not make them right or the British wrong. It came naturally to me to identify with the British heroes when they were fighting and killing the natives. I forgot that I was one of the natives. Sir Francis Drake, the Duke of Wellington, Lord Horatio Nelson and other British warriors were my heroes too. In those days I knew and took pride in their great battles—Waterloo and Trafalgar—won against Britain’s European foes. Looking back, it now seems odd that I considered it patriotic to uphold British imperialism and the colonisation of my country. Yet somehow they made us believe that we belonged to the Empire.

There were not many 
Orang Putih
 in Alor Star. Those who lived there were all British and they secluded themselves in a special enclave along Jalan Maxwell, in the northern part of Alor Star. The land belonged to the Government and was easily the best residential area in the state. No locals lived there. The houses stood on large grounds with shady angsana trees, well-kept lawns and flower beds. It was a different world entirely. It was quiet and clean, a far cry from where I lived. Our house was surrounded by squatter huts and wooden barracks with thatched roofs. My modest surroundings did not depress me as I thought them normal, and that everyone lived this way. Until I was in Standard Six I was not allowed to cycle on the main roads as my father feared I would get run over by a car. My world widened when he finally gave me permission to cycle to school. Together with my schoolmates, I would cycle in the evenings to where the expatriates lived. The European residents would be playing golf, trailed by their caddies carrying their golf clubs in leather bags. This was the only golf course in Kedah. Occasionally some Europeans and a few members of the Kedah Royal Family would be seen riding horses. There was a racecourse belonging to the Kedah Gymkhana Club where races were held once a year. I never thought I would live in that area, but years later I did when I became a Government Medical Officer.

The Kedah Club was where the Europeans would congregate in the evenings, drink and hold their dance parties. It was exclusive, but not as exclusive as the Royal Lake Club in Kuala Lumpur where even the Sultan of Selangor was not allowed to enter.
[1]
 A few senior Malay officers were members of the Kedah Club. When Tunku Badlishah ibni Sultan Abdul Hamid
[2]
 was Regent of Kedah, he played tennis there. The Malay officers of the Kedah Civil Service had their own club in the southern part of Alor Star, while subordinate officers had their club in front of my school. Clubs provided a kind of recreation for the elites in those days. Badminton was popular but tennis was regarded as elitist. Some of the very senior civil servants smoked opium. Emulating the Europeans, quite a few drank alcohol.
 

It was only when we began the struggle against the British proposal to create the Malayan Union that I realised the full extent of our colonisers’ shrewdness and skill. They did not have to fight to colonise the Malay states. They merely offered the Rulers and their families regular political pensions, more than they had ever received from the taxes they used to collect. All these were paid from the taxes which the British collected locally with great efficiency. The treaties that they imposed upon the Malay states and the concessions extracted from the Malay Rulers were beginning to offend intelligent Malays, not just because they were permanent but also because of their doublespeak. These agreements referred to the Malay Sultans as “Rulers”, while the most senior British officer was designated “Adviser”. But the treaty provided that when the British Adviser gave advice, it had to be followed. Obviously, he was not advising but directing the government of the state. The Ruler might reign but he clearly would not be able to rule. He was merely a figurehead.

This duplicity is integral to the English language and etiquette. During the Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting in Harare, Zimbabwe in 1991, I, as the previous host of the Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting, was required to make a speech at the formal dinner for the Queen. By then I had already gained a reputation for being caustic and outspoken and British officials were very worried that I would say something that might offend the Queen.

To play safe, palace officials as well as several Commonwealth Secretariat officers took pains to inform me that Queen Elizabeth II would only be making a very short speech and that I should therefore keep mine short as well. This of course was not the tradition. In previous Commonwealth meetings, speeches were long and full of praise for the Queen and the great British Commonwealth of Nations. Apparently, no one had told the other Heads of Government to keep their speeches short. The Queen had also made much longer speeches in previous Commonwealth functions.

But I was not irked by this attempt to muzzle me. I had grown used to it so I had prepared a fairly short appropriate dinner speech. Still, I cut it, leaving what I really wanted to say intact, which was to illustrate that what is said in English is usually not what is meant. I said that while the person presiding over the Parliament is called Mr Speaker, he cannot speak. The British Adviser did not merely advise and the Malay Rulers did not rule. They both did just the opposite. And in the Commonwealth, the wealth is not common. The Queen was evidently amused and the BBC recorded her laughing uproariously. Later, when the British celebrated the Queen’s Golden Jubilee, the video clip of my speech and the Queen’s laughter was aired by the BBC several times.

The British Colonial Administration was not altogether bad. Apart from their high-and-mighty attitude and the decidedly superior status they accorded themselves in society, they did a fairly good job. The boundaries between the states were defined, land holdings were properly surveyed and documents or grants were issued. Still, it was not until Malaysia became independent that proper surveys were carried out together with Malaysia’s neighbours to determine and mark out the international boundaries between Thailand and Malaysia, and Indonesia and Malaysia. There are still disputes over river and sea boundaries with these countries, and with Singapore.

The British introduced modern administrative methods and allocated specific duties and responsibilities to the various departments of the administration. Malay officers who worked under British officers could understudy them and were thus able to take over without too much difficulty when Independence was achieved. Proper state treasuries were set up to collect and manage revenue. It no longer went to the Rulers. The practice of farming out tax collection and opium monopolies to the Chinese 
towkay
 was stopped.

There was also much about the years of British rule that should have angered us. However, we were brainwashed into accepting the superiority of the 
Orang Putih
. So in the Federated Malay States (FMS)
[3]
 all senior posts in government service were filled by British officers who drew expatriate pay, at a far higher rate than the locals. Every three years they would go on home leave paid by the Government. Their designations were also different. In the Public Works Department, the Europeans were Engineers while Asians were Technical Assistants. In the medical service, British doctors were designated Medical Officers, but Asian doctors were only Assistant Medical Officers. In the Malay regiment, British officers did not salute Malay officers because the latter were commissioned by the High Commissioner of Malaya, while the British were commissioned by the King. In business the British companies controlled all the agencies and were given all government contracts. All supplies for all the governments—Straits Settlements, Federated and Unfederated States—had to be procured through the Crown Agents. Huge areas of land for plantations and tin mining were granted only to British companies at nominal prices.
 

Perak,
[4]
 Selangor, Negeri Sembilan
[5]
 and Pahang had each entered into agreements to become British protectorates, but in 1895 they were persuaded to federate. The administration of the FMS was in the hands of British officers of the Malayan Civil Service. British rule in the FMS was therefore direct and complete. A Federal Legislative Council was set up, consisting largely of British ex-officio members, British business representatives and a representative each from the Malay, Chinese and Indian communities. But the High Commissioner could overrule their decisions. He was answerable only to the Colonial Secretary in Whitehall in London. The
idea of a protectorate was to protect the state from foreign aggression, but the British interpreted “protection” to mean their control of all aspects of the administration, except those concerning Malay custom and the Muslim religion. The Malay states and their peoples were essentially to be protected from themselves, from (as the British saw the matter) their own poor character and vices, and from the consequences of managing their own affairs. The administration and the status of the FMS were not that different from those of the Straits Settlements which, without the doublespeak of the Malay treaties, were directly ruled colonies.
 

My home state of Kedah was one of the Unfederated Malay States, those that came under British control after the creation of the FMS and stayed outside of its centralised administration. The other Unfederated States were Johor, Terengganu, Kelantan, and Perlis.
[6]
 When the Malay Rulers of the FMS lost control over their own states, the Rulers of Kedah and Johor turned down the invitation to join the Federation. They even refused to have a customs union and a postal union. Kedah went further and insisted on its own police force, which at one point was headed by a Malay Chief Police Officer, Tunku Yahya Sultan Abdul Hamid. All District Officers in Kedah were also Malays from the Kedah Civil Service.