A Doctor in The House: A Memoir of Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad (97 page)

Some favoured the development of FTAs for trade among ASEAN countries. Our then Minister of International Trade and Industry, Tan Sri Rafidah Aziz, entered into negotiations with ASEAN members to lower or abolish taxes on goods entering one another’s countries. The Cabinet was not consulted. In principle, an ASEAN FTA was basically a good idea, but labour costs were not all the same in the various ASEAN countries. Malaysia’s labour costs were high, second only to Singapore, so our labour-intensive products would cost more than those from other ASEAN countries.

As I mentioned earlier, Rafidah also agreed that a 40 per cent local content would qualify a product for national status, as if it were entirely homemade, and on that basis it would enjoy a clear export advantage when it was sold to other ASEAN countries. The result was a rush from the developed, industrialised countries to the low labour cost ASEAN countries, where they set up production plants to produce goods for export to ASEAN neighbours. This was especially pronounced in the production of passenger vehicles, where the 40 per cent local content level was easily achieved. With its high labour costs, however, Malaysia was not a popular destination for the production of foreign cars and, worse still, we produced cars with 90 per cent local content and therefore incurred higher production costs. You see many cars made in Thailand and Indonesia on Malaysian roads, but very few Malaysian-made cars are sold in the other ASEAN countries.

Singapore has controlled the import of passenger cars by requiring buyers to bid for import certificates. These are very expensive and also act as a non-tariff barrier. So, while the ASEAN FTA gave Singapore’s products free access into all the other ASEAN countries, Singapore not only made no corresponding tariff-cutting sacrifice but also effectively made imports of ASEAN-made cars subject to high tax. The cost of these licences is high because the Government limits the number of cars to be imported each year. As there is always a great demand from Singapore’s prosperous society, the restricted supply of purchase certificates drove the prices ever higher. The burden that this may place on car buyers in Singapore is not my concern, but the scarcity of, and hence tight market for, purchase certificates effectively creates a high tariff barrier against the import of motor vehicles produced in ASEAN countries into Singapore. The restriction on imports is also a trade barrier. As far as cars are concerned, Singapore is anything but a free port.

The other Southeast Asian countries all appear to be adopting a similar development strategy. They have all begun to open their countries to foreign investments in industry, to pursue export-based economic growth and to develop their infrastructure. But their systems of government are hardly identical.

While the Vietnamese appear to want to retain their socialistic and authoritarian form of government, most of the others include some democratic practices in the choosing of their leaders. They all hold elections periodically, even if the same party is re-elected every time. Some may look askance at this, as many in the West do, including when they comment about Malaysia, but so long as the elections are not rigged, one has to respect the right of the people to choose the same party at every election. Regrettably, while all the world’s nations are urged to become democratic, the promoters of democracy are not that democratic themselves. If democratic elections produce governments friendly to the powerful democratic nations, that is fine with them. But if the outcome displeases them, these “selective” democrats feel entitled to effect regime changes in order to overturn the results of free and fair elections. I can accept their cynicism, but not the way it is disguised behind the mask of self-righteous principle.

Among the ASEAN countries, Myanmar seems to be the main candidate for regime change. Sanctions have been applied but force has not yet been used. Perhaps the great democratic nations of the world are pre-occupied with other problems, or perhaps Myanmar’s oil reserves are too insignificant. Although regime change has not often been overtly enforced in the countries of Southeast Asia—few now remember what the US did in South Vietnam in 1962, or what they tried to do in Indonesia in the 1950s—covert pressure has often been applied quite effectively. Attacks upon the currencies of several ASEAN countries may not have been explicitly planned to effect regime change but at least in one case, it achieved that objective. During the Asian financial crisis, the rupiah’s freefall led to the collapse of President Suharto’s Government, but it was not just the leaders that were affected—the entire system of government was changed.

In contrast, the ASEAN countries believe in non-interference in the internal affairs of nations and, of course, in other member countries. It is a good policy as it shows respect for the sovereign independence of all member countries. It has also been the basis of European and worldwide international relations since the seventeenth century when, at the end of their terrible religious wars, they agreed that the world must be seen as a network of independent nation states that recognise one another’s sovereignty.

Regrettably, that non-interference policy resulted in the systematic slaughter of two million Cambodians by their own government. Perhaps there is a case for interfering in the affairs of countries—but it cannot be by the sole fiat or unilateral action of a superpower. How such humanitarian intervention is to be justified, planned and managed needs to be thought out carefully. Perhaps ASEAN gave some indication of the way forward after cyclone Nargis devastated the Irrawaddy delta in May 2008. As usual the great powers wanted to come in and take over, not just the relief operation, but ultimately the whole socioeconomic and political development of the country. In the end the great powers, the European Community, and even the UN could find no way to deliver humanitarian assistance. It was only through ASEAN that agreements were made for the delivery of relief supplies and medical services.

Some in ASEAN were already prepared to jettison the policy of non-interference by calling for constructive engagement in Myanmar’s case. After much thought, however, I concluded that doing so may have serious consequences. ASEAN cannot drop the policy of non-interference in the domestic affairs of its members as a matter of principle. ASEAN cannot assume the right to effect regime changes, as it would simply be wrong and too dangerous. But ASEAN must never again allow the kind of genocide that took place in Cambodia. There must be a formal provision in its charter which would allow ASEAN as a group to demand that the UN take action to stop genocide in any of its member countries. As a requirement for taking this course, ASEAN should have to produce acceptable evidence, but under no circumstance must ASEAN—or any other party—take the law into its own hands. ASEAN must not succumb to US pressure to take action against Myanmar.

ASEAN is a fantastic concept, one that can be the model for regional cooperation among neighbouring developing countries. Much more can be done and further benefits can be derived from close relationships among the countries of Southeast Asia. Perhaps ASEAN should revive the idea of jointly-owned industries situated within its various member-countries, while ministries could adopt and develop the SEAMEO model for educational cooperation. An equitable sharing of the benefits from such joint undertakings should not prove impossible.

Meanwhile, China and India will soon become powerful in every way, and individual ASEAN countries cannot expect to compete with these giants. But as a group, ASEAN can match much of their strength or at least find constructive ways of engaging with them. ASEAN can become the third Asian giant. But ASEAN must never allow itself to block, or be used by others to help block, either China or India. Southeast Asia has lived with China and India for 2,000 years and more, and neither country has ever tried to conquer this part of the world. It was the ethnic European countries which did, with consequences which all the peoples in the region are still trying to deal with.

The challenge of development that we all face is the challenge of reversing the economic and human impoverishment that colonial domination has brought on us. We fell under the domination of the English, French, Spanish, Portuguese and Dutch, and were made to underwrite and support their development, and in doing so to forgo our own. This is the origin of the so-called “backwardness” and stagnation that Europeans have for so long and so smugly characterised us with, and which we in ASEAN and beyond, must still overcome. The arrested development which we must contend with is not due to deficiency in our own cultures, our poor values or any lack of economic capacity. It is a backwardness that was imposed upon us after we were made to serve Europe’s development at our expense.

The rise of China, India and the ASEAN nations is a key part of that historic response, that movement of developmental redress and repair. China and India turn to that task as vast countries that are each based upon an ancient civilisation; the ASEAN countries do so as a modern association or consortium of nation states that project themselves in matters of great regional and even global importance.

ENDNOTE

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1
] According to the Domino Theory, if one country falls to communism, then each surrounding country would soon follow suit.
 

Sometime in 1993, the then Inspector-General of Police Tun Hanif Omar requested to see me. The police chiefs and their departmental heads periodically briefed me on current problems, but I was not prepared for the disturbing report that Tun Hanif had for me that day.

He revealed that the police had received certain information about Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim, who was the Minister of Finance at the time, and that they had followed up by placing him under surveillance. Tun Hanif informed me that it had become apparent that Anwar was engaging in homosexual activities. Tun Hanif presented no evidence at that meeting, only a verbal report of what his officers had observed. Although I had learnt by then that the IGP only came to me when he felt he had discovered something significant—and his information was usually proven correct—my first reaction to the news was scepticism.

Anwar had moved up UMNO’s ranks very swiftly and he had made quite a few enemies along the way, so this seemed to me like someone’s attempt to fix him. I could believe members of my Cabinet having affairs with someone of the opposite sex, but allegations of homosexuality involving someone as pious as Anwar frankly seemed far-fetched. He was such a religious person that I had trouble believing he was seeing other women, let alone men. That would have been a completely different person from the Anwar I knew. It was just too much for me to believe.

I think the IGP sensed this. Although I gave him no instructions to take any further action, I expected that the police would continue their surveillance and would return to make a report if they found anything more concrete. I was satisfied to leave it at that. When accusations of homosexuality were again thrown at Anwar five years later, I would remember my 1993 meeting with Tun Hanif. This time however, I was less surprised and was prepared to listen to any fresh evidence the police had uncovered.

Generally, I trusted Tun Hanif and never interfered with his work. I certainly would not protect a Minister from the law, but I always had to be sure that no one was victimised. I knew it was easy for politicians to be the subject of plots carefully designed to spike their future prospects. I had even experienced it myself. I knew how quickly a veiled attack could take effect and I did not like anyone to be subjected to that kind of political character assassination. In the next few years, however, it would no longer be possible to ignore these allegations.

I have been told that during my time as Prime Minister, the perception took hold among the public that the police could do as they pleased. There was a belief, for example, that the police could kill suspects with impunity, but that was not true. The police were not perfect but by and large, they followed the rules. When dealing with dangerous suspects, especially when it was believed that the suspects had guns, I don’t think it was fair to expect the police to take unnecessary risks. Aiming at the legs may disable the suspect but often it was too easy to miss, so policemen were allowed to shoot at the body, which was an easier target. Of course, the suspect may be killed in the process—but I and many of my fellow citizens believed that that was a better outcome than for the policeman to be killed and the suspect to escape.

Giving power to an officer to kill is not something to be taken lightly but when they have to deal with violent people who may be armed, it is necessary to instil the well-founded fear of death if there is going to be any respect for those who enforce the law. In my time, the police were armed with handguns, but today many policemen in Malaysia have to carry a submachine gun. It is perhaps a sign of the deteriorating and ever more dangerous times we live in. Criminals today are better organised than ever and they take advantage of any weakness on the part of the law enforcers.

One of the reasons why we introduced mandatory death sentences for certain crimes was because people did not feel deterred by the prevailing laws. A life sentence actually meant 20 years, and with good behaviour, that period could be reduced to just 13 years. With that discount, a life sentence was no longer a deterrent. Judges seldom handed out a sentence of incarceration “for the term of the person’s natural life” because they feared that criminals who knew they would die in prison would have no regard for or interest in good behaviour. Instead, they would not hesitate to kill a warder who might try to discipline them. However, many drug pushers and smugglers would not mind serving a finite jail sentence and collecting their ill-gotten gains upon their release. For them, only the death sentence would be a deterrent. But given a choice, judges would avoid passing the death sentence. As a result, the mandatory death sentence for drug trafficking was introduced when Tun Hussein Onn was Prime Minister, even though he himself was against this provision. Tun Hussein delayed approval of the amendment for quite some time.