A Doctor in The House: A Memoir of Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad (124 page)

Then the Government decided to appoint a new Chairman to the car company. I met Datuk Mohammed Azlan Hashim and he assured me that he was not there to get rid of Tengku Mahaleel. But he acted more like a Chief Executive Officer than a board Chairman and he removed Tengku Mahaleel from many of the posts he had held in the company’s subsidiaries.

When Tengku Mahaleel reached the end of his contract, he was offered very unattractive terms to stay on. I think this was done deliberately. Naturally, he turned the offer down. Tengku Mahaleel was later replaced but the new management did not understand the business as well as he had and Proton’s share of the market took a 50 per cent dip. Now it is even lower as foreign cars flood the market. At one point, I was told, the company only had RM500 million in its reserves, down from RM2.5 billion. Many senior executives and engineers began to leave Proton and there was talk that the company was going to be sold. I was very sad about this. Even though I was the Adviser, I refused to see Azlan—he seemed to believe that he was there to advise me, and not the other way round.

Proton’s sale of Italian motorcycle company MV Agusta, which I discussed in an earlier chapter, was another distressing development. At the time of writing, the buyer’s identity remains undisclosed. We tried to do a search for the company but discovered very little about it. All we knew was that the buyers were made up of two lawyers, and that the company was not even listed with the Italian registrar of companies.

Proton’s position was not helped by the AP issue. Tengku Mahaleel had taken his concerns to the Chinese newspaper, the 
Oriental Daily
, saying that the Government was not supporting Proton and was treating the national car company unfairly. When the board of Proton heard of this, they gave Tengku Mahaleel two days to explain his actions. As I also knew the truth, I defended him. I told the Press that of the 67,000 APs issued in 2004, only 12,600 were given to 82 companies while another 54,000 were issued to two companies. Tun Abdullah then stepped in and said that Rafidah should explain in writing the matters I had raised. Still, she refused.

In July 2005, the Opposition and a growing number of bloggers jumped into the fray, demanding an explanation. Under pressure, the Cabinet directed Rafidah to give details as to why the bulk of the APs were issued to only a handful of companies. Instead, she merely dismissed the accusations and said that she was prepared for attacks at the UMNO General Assembly later that month. It was the Prime Minister’s Office which finally released a complete list of individuals who received APs since 1970, including politicians, royalty and children of prominent Malaysians. What was glaring was that more than 60,000 APs were issued that year mostly to Datuk Seri Syed Azman Syed Ibrahim, Datuk Mohd Haniff Abdul Aziz and the late Tan Sri Nasimuddin S.M. Amin
[2]
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Rafidah got very emotional. She denied any wrongdoing and broke down during a Press conference which was widely covered. In some news reports she had been branded a villain who had been rude to me. This was made worse when she was booed at the UMNO General Assembly. Her only response was that she was “too hurt for words”. I did not understand why she took it personally but she apparently did. In August, when she briefed the Cabinet on the AP issue, she was reportedly “combative”, “confrontational”, and “abrasive”, especially to Cabinet colleagues who disagreed with her. In attempting to resolve the problem, the Prime Minister announced that he would chair a panel to review the AP system but, soon after, Rafidah declared that the system would be abolished altogether.

If there was much excitement in my role in Proton, there was almost none in my capacity as adviser to PETRONAS. Many believe that having a presence there means I exert continuous influence on the company when in fact, PETRONAS decisions are made by PETRONAS staff. The PETRONAS CEO reports to the Prime Minister. I only received occasional briefings and the statutory annual reports.

While I tried to settle into my new role, the Prime Minister decided to prove his legitimacy by holding a General Election in March 2004. I had let it be known that I would always be available to help with the campaign and I spoke at rallies in all states except Terengganu. UMNO wanted to recapture the state from PAS, but I was told I might cause the party to lose votes there. My name was associated with Tan Sri Eric Chia, whose Perwaja operations in the state had ended in a scandal and financial losses. Chia was accused of embezzling money from the company and I was blamed for appointing him. The court eventually concluded that he was not guilty. A sick man, he suffered terribly and died shortly after.

In any case, I was willing to contribute what I could. I had always remarked that many 
Menteri Besar
, Ministers and Members of Parliament would disappear once they were no longer in office and would make no effort to help the party win. I believed that members who had received strong support from the party before should pay back by helping the party during elections. At the rallies, I emphasised that Tun Abdullah was a good man and supporting him was important for political continuity.

This was the first General Election in 40 years in which I was not a candidate. Tun Mohd Khalil Yaacob, the UMNO Secretary-General, had wanted my son Mukhriz to run in my old constituency of Kubang Pasu, but I refused. It looked too much like nepotism and I did not want to start a political dynasty. Mukhriz would have to do his own fighting, which he did when he won the Jerlun seat in Kedah in 2008, five years after I stepped down.

I expected a positive 2004 election result for the Barisan Nasional because the voters were energised and exhilarated. Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim’s dismissal had become irrelevant while the Chinese community continued to enjoy the results of the fixed exchange rate that had helped many to escape bankruptcy. There was a new Government in power and people were expecting economic recovery and better growth to continue. They had had me for more than two decades and I imagine that there were those who were sick of my way of running the Government. Change always inspires optimism so the voters’ support was very strong. Those who had voted against the Government in 1999 because of the Anwar issue came back and delivered a thumping victory to the Barisan Nasional in 2004.

There was much talk about how the triumph was attributed to the “Pak Lah factor”—he had a good image, was known as Mr Clean and was not belligerent like me. It was also a very cleverly-planned campaign and it was smart of Tun Abdullah not to respond personally to attacks from the Opposition, which was in direct contrast to how I would have reacted. Malaysians expected the new Government to be more dynamic and they foresaw a surge in national development. I was very happy about Barisan Nasional’s outstanding performance because it validated my decision to appoint Tun Abdullah.

It did not take me long, however, to realise that he was not up to the job of being Prime Minister. This was a great disappointment to me because he had initially seemed to appreciate the rationale behind the many projects needed to keep the economy vibrant and moving. In my final week in office the most critical of these projects—the double-tracking and electrification of the railway from Johor Baru to Padang Besar—was on the verge of being approved. In my last meeting with Tun Abdullah, I explained the necessity for the project and he agreed to push it through when he took over. We had to have the double-tracking railway to transport the growing number of containers that were entering the country from Thailand. Trucks only carry one container at a time and since we handled 10 million a year, the roads would soon be choked by these semi-trailers. On the other hand, trains can carry up to 50 containers at a time and without level crossings, they would not cause traffic jams. I know for a fact that when I left there was enough money to build the railway.

I was in Japan two weeks after stepping down when word reached me that the Prime Minister had chosen to postpone the project. I had many misgivings and I would have said something then if not for my earlier promise not to interfere. I spoke to no one about it, but I was hurt and surprised that he had reneged on his word. It took place so soon after I left office that it was not possible for him to have forgotten his promise.

Other reversals quickly followed. The Arab investment in the Bakun hydroelectric project that I had worked for five years to secure was cancelled, and the deposit of over RM90 million for a 30 per cent share was returned to the investor. Then I began hearing accusations that I had spent all the Government’s money on megaprojects which the country apparently did not need. I was even prepared to tolerate this. But when the project involving the bridge to Singapore was cancelled, I was flabbergasted. By allowing Singaporeans to dictate terms, the current administration had effectively undermined the sovereignty of our country. I had a choice: I could remain tight-lipped and maintain my image of a respected elder statesman or I could make myself heard again. I chose the latter—it was too much for me to see us submitting to Singapore.

When Tun Abdullah abruptly cancelled the bridge plan in April 2006, it meant that the Malaysian Government would have to shell out at least RM100 million to the contractor as compensation. It was later revealed by the Public Accounts Committee that the total cost of cancellation was RM740 million, more than half of what the bridge would have cost. Tun Abdullah’s explanation was that he was abiding by the sentiments on the ground. If indeed that were the case, why did he take two years to cancel it?

It was at this point that I decided to speak out as I felt the Government should have gone ahead unilaterally with the bridge construction. My comment that we were a “half-past-six country with no guts” was picked up and reported across the world. Some foreign journalists said I was suffering from PPMS—Post-Prime Ministerial Syndrome—but the question is this: why were we scared of the Singaporeans? If we had proceeded with the plans we only needed to work on Malaysian land and in our territorial waters.

I was then informed that Malaysia had offered to sell sand to Singapore and allow the republic free use of airspace—all of which the Government denied. My statements were obviously causing discomfort to some. One by one, Cabinet Ministers and politicians came out to defend the Prime Minister. Over time, I found myself increasingly blacked out by the mainstream papers, especially with regard to my remarks about the involvement of Tun Abdullah’s family members in his administration. The only response I received from Tun Abdullah was “an elegant silence”, which was how Tun Musa Hitam described it. Much later I discovered that the elegant silence was due to his inability to explain himself.

My relations with party leaders, especially those who had been my colleagues in the UMNO Supreme Council and in Cabinet for so many years, also did not remain as cordial as I had hoped. In fact, as soon as I stepped aside, UMNO leaders and Cabinet Ministers began distancing themselves from me. I was made to feel not just like an outsider—it was as if I was some kind of enemy. This was not unlike the time when I was thrown into the political wilderness for going against the Tunku, except that this time I was alienated even more. Ministers who had originally been appointed by me and who were still in the Government, openly abused me.

In 2006, members of my UMNO division in Kubang Pasu urged me to make a bid to be one of the seven elected representatives of the division to the UMNO General Assembly later that year. As I wanted to bring my grievances to the delegates, I agreed—but I lost. Much later, I was told that the UMNO Supreme Council had been most agitated by my plans and actually decided at one of its meetings that action should be taken to stop me from being chosen. This was recorded in the minutes but when it was pointed out that it was illegal for the Council to decide such matters, all the minutes were withdrawn and new minutes issued without the original record.

At the urging of many senior UMNO stalwarts, who were worried that the rift between Tun Abdullah and me would weaken the party, the Prime Minister and I met in October 2006 for about two hours to discuss our differences. At first, I was satisfied that I had had the opportunity to speak to him about my concerns face-to-face, but in the end our meeting resolved nothing. I later told reporters that we were living in a police state because every time anyone invited me to talk, they would get a call from the police warning them or telling them to withdraw the invitation. The secretary of an UMNO branch in Johor, who insisted I address party members there, was later removed. Similar incidents took place in Terengganu. This was extra-legal—there was and is no law empowering the police to stop people from holding meetings unless there is a threat to national security.

My worries about UMNO were also escalating. As anyone who has read Malaysian history would know, UMNO is a democratic party and its leaders are elected from the branch to the division level and then on to the national level. If the members disagree with the leaders, they can express their disagreements anywhere, including the General Assembly. At party elections they may change their leaders if a majority wishes to do so. In the records of UMNO, only one President has had to withdraw while another chose to step down when he sensed that the majority was against him. To prevent frivolous challenges which can be costly and time-consuming, there are rules to reduce abuses of the democratic process. During the time I was President I was challenged once but I won. However, the challengers took the case to court, ending in UMNO being declared illegal.

Under Abdullah, the UMNO President had made himself into an institution. No challenges against him were allowed and his policies and actions could not be questioned. It seemed that the duty of every member and of every delegate to the General Assembly was to support the President and praise everything that he said. If any critical remarks were made about the President or his speech, then the person concerned would not only be hauled up and penalised, but also risked not being nominated to contest in future elections.