A Doctor in The House: A Memoir of Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad (57 page)

This was a part of our continuing process of raising standards. Traditionalists like to say, “This is how we did it 100 years ago, 1,000 years ago”. The Malays, especially, are bound by 
adat
 or tradition because it makes them feel safe. They dislike change. But I always believed that things could be done differently, and that value systems determine the success or otherwise of an individual, a community or a nation. While the values of a community or nation develop naturally, they can also be deliberately inculcated, and the best way to do this is for the Government to practices these values.

With the campaign, things began to move. This was one way of reducing corruption. As I mentioned in the previous chapter, to build a hotel then needed 200 separate approvals, and it took years to get them. The anxious applicant, knowing that time meant money, would resort to bribery to speed things along. Soon officials learnt that it was worthwhile to delay processes, a habit that had to be broken.

Hoping to lead by example, I practised the values we promoted and resisted any attempts to corrupt me. It involved controlling greed. As Prime Minister I was already receiving an adequate salary but the Government also provided me with comfortable accommodation, paid my electricity and water bills, gave me cars and aircraft for my trips and allowances for my travels. I had everything and I did not need anything more. But of course my detractors still considered me corrupt. However, my conscience is clear.

Corruption cannot be completely eradicated, but it can be reduced. By reducing the number of approvals needed and requiring them to be given out quickly, corruption became more difficult. To speed up the process whenever a complaint was made, I would personally make repeated enquiries. This sometimes led to accusations of cronyism but if I did not intervene, there would be delays and opportunities for corruption. I finally decided it was better to be accused of cronyism or corruption than to tolerate delays. At least things would get done.

It was the same with foreign investment, which encountered many difficulties after the Industrial Coordination Act (ICA) was introduced. The ICA, which was meant to ensure that a 30 per cent share of all investment was in Bumiputera hands, was already in place by the time I took over. The minimum investment, which was subject to the 30 per cent share was very small, a capital sum of only RM100,000, but instead of ensuring Malay participation in companies with foreign investments, the ICA ended up affecting Chinese-owned family businesses and purchasers of property, which naturally did not want strangers involved. To avoid appointing Bumiputera partners, proprietors would subdivide family businesses in an attempt to reduce capital in each part to below RM100,000. Later we increased the threshold to RM250,000 but even that proved too small. In the end, we abolished the requirement for Malay participation in the purchase of property for rental or other commercial projects. The ICA was just not practical—it caused much resentment, evasion and dishonesty, and it did not benefit the Bumiputera.

The ICA would have done better to monitor and promote the participation of Malays in partnerships or public limited companies, where the shareholders were members of the public. Malay participation had to be genuine and involve putting up the necessary capital. If they could not, then exemptions could be given. The ICA covered so many areas that investors and buyers of property, both local and foreign, felt harassed and as a result nothing could move and commercial activities stalled.

The officers responsible for implementing the policy were at first inflexible and I had a tough time convincing them that this was not the way to implement the Act. Eventually, they concurred, albeit very reluctantly. They still felt they had to painstakingly examine every investment, which was time-consuming and cost businessmen money. Delays inhibited investment and economic life as a whole. The economy was not doing well in those early years of my premiership and the ICA made recovery very difficult.

By 1984, at the height of a severe economic downturn, I completely rescinded all Bumiputera and other local ownership requirements in certain cases. Foreign investment was simply not forthcoming and needed to be encouraged, so the Government stipulated that if the product was for export, there was no need for local participation in the business. As a result, Intel and Bosch—international companies which did not sell products to locals—came in. It’s important to be consistent and business-friendly and the Government must listen to foreign investors and try to resolve their problems, and not make things harder for them. Without their investments, there would be no jobs or economic growth and the Bumiputera would not get anything either.

When it came to 
amanah,
 or trustworthiness, our Government officers were generally reliable, though many lacked a sense of urgency. One officer remarked that while his signature helped a businessman to make millions, he still received the same salary regardless of how many documents he signed. So why rush or seek to be prompt? When it was explained that civil service salaries were paid from taxes collected from business, and that greater profits meant more revenue for the Government and possibly pay increases for its civil servants, attitudes changed. Later, when we introduced the concept of Malaysia Incorporated, the Government officers were more ready to serve the private sector.

As approvals for construction became easier to get, cranes appeared all over the city. Cement mixer lorries became a common sight and construction of high-rise buildings was seen everywhere in Kuala Lumpur. Papers were no longer lost and applicants dared to make enquiries if there were any delays. So omnipresent were the cranes that at one time, I thought that the Coat of Arms for Kuala Lumpur should include a crane. Even today cranes are part of the Kuala Lumpur skyline, and the city’s construction seems to go on endlessly, come rain or shine. From the insignificant capital of a little-known country, Kuala Lumpur is now a large metropolis comparable with other modern cities elsewhere in the world. In this transformation, our new Government slogan played a role.

In retrospect, even the most cursory look at Kuala Lumpur and the rest of Malaysia today shows what the 
Bersih, Cekap & Amanah
 campaign has done for the country. It was not the only thing responsible for Malaysia’s development, but it did change our administration for the better, refocusing official attention, energies and thinking. It reduced corruption to a certain degree and it accelerated development.

In Malaysia today, it is actually faster to build or repair a house than in England, where all sorts of obstacles are put in the way and everyone has to have a say—about the environment, about the traditional façade, and the like. It took the British Government and local authorities 13 years to approve the construction of the fifth terminal at Heathrow Airport, for example. Our Government and administration may not be the most efficient in the world, but they have improved considerably since the first two decades of Independence—and they are better than those in many countries, developed and developing.

The campaign was not just an election slogan, although it began as such. Slogans do help but they must be used sparingly. Too many slogans not only bore people; they expose the sloganeers to popular ridicule, the last thing that competent, change-oriented governments need. This has been the sad experience of so many developing countries and slogan-addicted regimes. By themselves slogans achieve nothing, and the more of them you devise the less effective they become as a whole and individually. Slogans are important only as shorthand for the realities they represent or promote.

At Independence, Kuala Lumpur was a town of about 300,000 people. When I took over, there were almost 500,000. Today there are more than two million people in the Federal Territory proper, and more than one million at its periphery. The population of KL actually increased four times, much faster than the national growth rate. People are also more well-to-do, and even the squatters have become better off as new housing is made available to them.

I remember a KL squatter area that I visited after a fire. I noticed one home had a Mercedes, some had two cars, and their fridges were bigger than mine, though I think they were using them for business. Of course, some of them were very poor, especially the Indians. The Malays were different—if they were allocated a low-cost house they would rent it out and continue to stay in a squatter hut. To them, living like squatters approximated living in a 
kampung
. Still, they are at least changing in their outlook. Today many live in high-rise flats, and in time, the squatter slums in Kuala Lumpur at least will disappear.

There was some unhappiness that the old easygoing ways had to end. I used to call City Hall every week to find out how certain projects were progressing. Later I asked them to report to me directly, complete with pictures and progress reports. This practice of close monitoring helped to get everyone to work, the Ministers included.

In the past, unspent budget allocations for the various Ministries and Departments would be used up at the end of every year for what was called “Christmas shopping”. They were determined to use up all the funds allocated to them for the year; how else might they ask for increased funding, or to resist cuts, for the next year? Public servants try not to return funds because doing so implies that they are inefficient or too generously funded in the first place, so they will do just about anything to show that all their allocations have been spent. Often, it was said, they bought useless things, inappropriate equipment or gadgets that quickly became obsolete after hardly any use.

When I assumed office, I announced that this practice would have to end and that funds had to be spent only on approved projects. Departments had to budget to cover only what they felt reasonably confident they could do. Budgeting, I insisted, would not be guesswork; it had to be more precise. I looked over their shoulders all the time and usually drove around on weekends to visit worksites. Rubbish disposal and landscaping were of special interest to me. They say the devil is in the details and I was determined to deal with this devil.

A later slogan stressed leadership by example, and as the highest leader in the country this slogan was meant more for me than anyone else. The other leaders were the Ministers, the administrative heads and also the party heads. But if the slogan was to be meaningful, I had to provide the example.

It was decided that Government staff should clock in in the morning because I saw how casual they were about coming to work and leaving in the evening. Many came any time they liked and would leave one hour before the working day came to an end. When clocking in was made compulsory I made a show of punching the time-clock myself, and I kept it up throughout my years in office. When we moved to Putrajaya, the new federal administrative centre just south of Kuala Lumpur, they introduced an electronic card and I lost mine. But I was always in the office at 8.30am and I left only at 6pm. I also insisted that those functions I had to attend at night ended at 10pm.

Then it was decided that we would all wear nametags so that the members of the public would know who they were dealing with. Making complaints against officers was easier after that. As usual, I wore the tag first and then everyone followed suit. This was standard practice in Malaysia until the slogan “1Malaysia” was introduced.

As Prime Minister I was given a huge Daimler limousine as my official vehicle. After our national car manufacturer Proton produced the Perdana, a 2,000cc saloon, I began to use that instead. I got the Ministers to use this Proton car but many senior officers felt that they deserved a Mercedes. I did not force them to change. So in Malaysia, during my time, Ministers used cheaper cars than senior civil servants. I think they still do, even the Prime Minister.

When I was President Jacques Chirac’s principal guest at the French National Day Parade, I was given a small Renault car as they don’t make big cars in France. The French could have given me a Mercedes or Cadillac, but they gave me their own car. Even President Chirac came in a Renault. There is a lesson for us, and everybody, in this—regardless of size, be proud of what you have.

I was also invited to be President Zia Ul Haq’s principal guest at Pakistan’s National Day Parade in 1995. I was escorted by very tall horsemen who wore smart uniforms. Even though “small” may be “beautiful”, I thought that Malaysia should have a similar unit in the army because we had reached a stage where we could afford to look grander. Now there is a special cavalry unit in the Army which provides an escort for the King when he rides in a horse-drawn carriage. They also do guard duty at the Istana, the King’s royal palace and official residence in Kuala Lumpur. Foreign tourists like taking pictures of the mounted guards in their red tunics.

Leading by example was a strain on me but it was worthwhile. I learnt how to fly to encourage young Malaysians to do the same. After I began horse-riding, equestrian clubs were started all over the country. In Kuala Lumpur alone there are now eight equestrian clubs and our riders have won in many international events.

When I was in Chile in 1991 I was honoured with the Key to the City of Valparaiso, and during the ceremony the Chileans sang their national anthem. It is a stirring tune, and we Malaysians were impressed. There and then we decided to sing our national anthem 
Negara-ku
 (My Nation) and from then on, we would sing whenever it was played. Doing so gave us a strong sense of being Malaysian and roused our patriotic spirit. I always felt exhilarated and this was where the beauty of leadership by example came in, for when I started singing, everyone else sang as well.

Apart from the obvious changes there were many subtle differences too. When the slogan 
Malaysia Boleh
 (Malaysia Can Do It!) was introduced, Malaysians became more ready to undertake new challenges. They climbed Mount Everest, sailed solo around the world, swam the English Channel and walked across the Antarctic and the Arctic.