A Doctor in The House: A Memoir of Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad (123 page)

I had stopped the sale of sand to Singapore when I was Prime Minister. Reclamation by Singapore around their islands in the Tebrau Strait was affecting the sea through which ships and our navy boats had to pass to reach Pasir Gudang port or the new naval base at the mouth of Johor River. To dredge one billion cubic metres of sand from the seabed around the Peninsula would cause erosion of the shoreline, destroy our fish breeding grounds, and so affect the livelihoods of our fishermen. A Government that is eager to dredge sand from the seas off our east and west coasts is one that does not care much for Malaysia’s interest. Neither the Government nor businessmen who got the dredging concession would make much money from the sale, so who would the proposal really benefit?

Then came the bombshell. The then Prime Minister of Malaysia announced that the bridge would not be built at all. Malaysians, he said, did not want to sell sand to Singapore, nor did they want Singapore military aircraft to fly over and train in Johor airspace. He then added that Malaysians did not want the bridge anyway. Yet we had never once heard anything of the sort. The Sultan of Johor had actually given land in Johor Baru to enable people displaced by the new elevated highway to be moved. Clearly, he was not against any bridge, straight or curved.

The people involved in the negotiation with Singapore knew that the Malaysian Government of Tun Abdullah Badawi had offered to sell 50 million cubic metres of sand every year for 20 years, totalling one billion cubic metres. That would be sufficient to increase the size of Singapore to one and a half times its present size. In effect, Malaysia would be selling land to Singapore, providing the means for its expansion, even its encroachment upon us if they so chose. The great-grandfather of the present Sultan may have been swindled by the British into selling Singapore for 60,000 dollars. But by offering to sell one billion cubic metres of sand to Singapore, our Government was literally surrendering Malaysian soil.

Singapore might have some grounds for demanding concessions from Malaysia if we were to suddenly want to alter all our agreements and build a straight bridge. But it can demand no concession if we were to build our bridge on our side only. No conditions were imposed or agreed. Yet Tun Abdullah suggested that building a bridge, even one on our territory, would now require approval from Singapore. Apparently Malaysia does not exercise full sovereignty over its own territories and facilities. I wonder how this happened. I had asked for evidence of any agreement to that effect. I have been shown none.

This situation is manifestly absurd. Had Singapore actually made a claim against Malaysia’s right to build its bridge? Will Malaysia have the self-respect to challenge this claim in a court of law, should it ever appear? We can draw only one conclusion from this whole sorry episode: the Malaysian Government simply did not want, or dare, to build the curved bridge. Perhaps a straight bridge would have made some people very rich as it would have required the sale of one billion cubic metres of sand to Singapore.

It angered me greatly that the Malaysian Government was so concerned about Singapore’s interest and rights, and not our own. They went so far as to say the Causeway could not be touched by Malaysia as it belonged jointly to the two countries. Both sides, therefore, had to consent to any change in its structure and arrangements. To me this meant our Government had no guts. There is no agreement to say that the bridge is jointly owned. It showed its cowardice once again when, in September 2006, Lee remarked that the Malaysian Chinese were not well treated by their Government.
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 How did we respond? Najib merely said that Singapore was being “naughty”. Belatedly, our Ministry of Foreign Affairs called the Singapore High Commissioner to convey its objection over Lee’s remark. But it did so only after Indonesia summoned the Singapore Ambassador on the same issue. Not understanding diplomatic protocol, our Prime Minister then wrote to Lee to ask him for an explanation. Apart from making himself look foolish, this was wrong as it was Singapore that owed the apology, not Lee. Tun Abdullah should have written to the Prime Minister, the titular head of the Singapore Government. For the Malaysian Prime Minister to write to a mere minister was wrong, protocol-wise. Lee did not apologise for his remarks. He merely said he was sorry if they caused discomfort to Tun Abdullah.
 

Lee then dragged my name into it and said I had often said bad things about Singapore. Perhaps I have and I do. But during my term of office, he never asked me to apologise.

ENDNOTES

[
1
] In 1964 a series of race riots between Chinese and Malays took place in Singapore. In the first incident in July, some 25,000 Malays gathered to mark the Prophet Muhammad’s birthday, but the gathering turned violent and led to 36 deaths. Then in September, riots followed the death of a Malay trishaw-rider, who was widely believed to have been murdered by a group of Chinese.
 

[
2
] The Tebrau Strait is also known as the Johor Strait, and separates Peninsular Malaysia from Singapore.
 

[
3
] Launched in 1998, the bridge at the Second Link was built to mitigate the traffic congestion at the Johor-Singapore Causeway.
 

[
4
] On 15 September 2006, in a symposium in Singapore, Lee said “Our neighbours (Malaysia and Indonesia) both have problems with their Chinese. They are successful. They are hardworking and,
 
therefore, they are systematically marginalised.”

Finally, it was time to let go. The night before my official retirement I slept very well, untroubled by thoughts about the next day.

At 3pm on 31 October 2003, I witnessed Tun Abdullah Ahmad Badawi’s swearing-in ceremony as the new Prime Minister at Istana Negara. After that we went back to the Prime Minister’s office where I officially handed over my duties to him. The next day all the newspapers showed pictures of me symbolically handing over a file to him. This had been staged for the media’s benefit—the photographers wanted to show that the baton had been passed but in truth, there was nothing in the file.

Ordinarily, when I left my office to go home, I would go down the special lift to my car in the basement garage, but on that day hundreds of people had gathered to say goodbye to me at the front of the building. Slipping away would not have been proper, so I went down the steps to greet them. It was always heart-warming when people came out to show their support. If I had been unpopular, perhaps they would have thrown eggs at me or just ignored my departure. But as it was, many of the faces that surrounded me as I walked to my car looked very solemn and sad.

The same day, Hasmah and I were conferred the 
Seri Setia Mahkota Malaysia
 and 
Seri Maharaja Mangku Negara
 titles respectively, so we became Tuns together. I was amused when the Court Chamberlain addressed Hasmah as “Toh Puan”, the title of the wife of a Tun, when calling upon her to come forward to receive her award. After receiving her own award from the Agong she was then addressed as “Tun” by the Court Chamberlain. She had been a “Toh Puan” for only a few minutes, but the brief interval between the conferment of the two awards was important and Hasmah’s transitory status was not to be ignored while it lasted. Such is Malay meticulousness about status and their sense of precision in formal ceremonial etiquette.

Leaving the country’s highest office after 22 years was a big step for me, but I was not concerned about how I might be treated. I have never seen myself as anything but an ordinary individual. During my time as Prime Minister I had tried to live my life as normally as I could—I went shopping, drove my car and where possible, I mixed freely with people. After retirement, I felt certain I could do the same.

In the months that followed, my schedule was as busy as ever. I continued to give talks within the country and at international conferences. I spoke on Islam, the importance of knowledge, good governance, globalisation, neo-imperialism, socio-political developments and the Malaysian economic model. People seemed keen to know my thoughts on these and other wide-ranging subjects. With my years of experience, during which we built a national car, modernised infrastructure, advanced our trading position and conquered the currency crisis, I was expected to have at least some solutions for the challenges involved in running a country.

Retirement also allowed me to devote full attention to the burning question of war. The Perdana Global Peace Organisation—of which I am founder and Chairman—was set up in 2005 to do just this. It is a tiny first step towards global peace. Together with internationally prominent peace advocates, I wanted the Organisation to be a serious and active presence in a sustained struggle against war. World War I and II were billed as wars to end all wars but after killing more than 70 million people, maiming millions more and razing innumerable towns and cities to the ground, we still continue to fight wars. While it may be easier to let things be, I strongly believe that it would be morally reprehensible for us to stand by and just watch people being killed while whole nations are being turned into battlefields and reduced to rubble.

In the past, people went to war for territorial gain, to build empires, promote ideologies, and in the pursuit of their dominance. If anyone stood in their way they would be hunted and killed and their lands occupied and new nations set up. Then, there were wars ostensibly to create egalitarian societies and for this, tens of millions were killed. Now, in the name of human rights and democracy, even more lives are being sacrificed. Through the Organisation, I try to promote the message that peace for us simply means the absence of war. We must never be deflected from the simple message.

I prepared most of my speeches at the Perdana Leadership Foundation (PLF) in Precinct 8, facing the Putrajaya lake. The Foundation was the result of an idea mooted by my former political secretary, Matthias Chang, and was set up to preserve the important papers and documents that went through the hands of the first four Prime Ministers. Headed by the late Tan Sri Azizan Zainul Abidin,
[1]
 a special committee comprising members from the private sector—who were mostly my friends—funded its building. No Government money was channelled into PLF.
 

There was some talk at the time that I had received many gifts from the Government. It is true that the Government offered me a piece of land, but I said I would pay for it. This is where my fruit orchard stands today. I have never liked to take what is not mine, which is why I did not accept land offered by the Kedah State Government shortly after I became Prime Minister. It is the same with my cars—I own only two, a Kancil and a Proton Saga, which I paid for. The others were all registered with the Ministry of Finance and considered to be Government property. After retirement I returned them, including those given to me by Proton. A number of other cars that were given to me as gifts during my years in office are on display for public viewing at the Perdana Gallery in Langkawi. I never owned them. I regarded all of them as Government property when I received them as Prime Minister.

Just before the end of my tenure, I asked Tun Abdullah to appoint me as adviser to PETRONAS, Proton, Malaysia Airlines, the Langkawi Development Authority (LADA) and the Tioman Development Authority. Almost immediately upon retirement, I was appointed to PETRONAS, LADA and Tioman, but not to Proton and Malaysia Airlines. I had no right to demand anything of course, but I thought it was a reasonable request considering my personal involvement in all these entities. When I was Prime Minister, I had appointed Tun Hussein Onn as head of the Institute of Strategic and International Studies and adviser to PETRONAS.

My appointment as adviser to Proton came in April 2004. When I received the letter from Tan Sri Nor Mohamed Yakcop, who by now was the Second Finance Minister, I was delighted. Soon after, I went to Proton’s main office for a briefing. At the briefing, I was shown various models which would soon be launched. The employees were in good spirits and appeared ready to face challenges.

As I have written earlier, around this time I was informed that the Ministry of International Trade and Industry was issuing tens of thousands of approved permits (APs) to a handful of people. They went on to sell the permits, making millions from something they got free from the Government. The Proton CEO Tengku Tan Sri Mahaleel Tengku Ariff told me that unless the Government stopped giving out APs so freely and ensured that the importers did not under-declare their prices so as to pay less tax, Proton sales would suffer. Concerned, I wrote a letter to Tan Sri Rafidah Aziz, the Minister of International Trade and Industry, mentioning the malpractices which were taking place. However, I received no assurance that the problems would be attended to. I then turned to the Press to pursue this matter and several other problems affecting the automotive industry. At first they seemed keen to publish my views but shortly after, I found my comments and views blacked out by the media.

As adviser to Proton, I expected to play an active role and wanted to help turn the company into a leading brand for the country. Tengku Mahaleel did not train as an automotive engineer but he understood the business intimately. Under him Proton became a profitable company and I felt I could work with him closely.

When in office, I had urged Proton to work with Frazer Nash, a British research company owned by an Indian British citizen. To continue to be competitive, Proton needed to innovate by using multiplexing to replace the bulky wire harnesses. Frazer Nash could help with this and also in the development of a hybrid car using new technology. A hybrid car is the answer to the high price of oil. Frazer Nash had worked on this at my request and they had reached the point where they could get more than 100 miles to the gallon. Moreover, emissions would be almost completely eliminated. I had worked with the research company earlier on several harebrained ideas of mine and found that they had the capacity to develop workable solutions. By the time I became adviser, I noticed that Proton’s share of the Malaysian market was rapidly dwindling. To keep Proton competitive, I was hoping to persuade Tengku Mahaleel to invest more in building the hybrid car.