A Doctor in The House: A Memoir of Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad (99 page)

Meanwhile, the IAP contributed greatly to the development of the Corridor. The CEOs and other senior officers of the large, well-known IT companies found the meetings useful as they otherwise did not often gather and talk about their business and the industry’s longer-term outlook. At the IAP meetings, they could review technological and professional matters of common interest, and interact socially. The IAP’s benefits spread all around as our advisers were able to share their ideas, listen to ours, and give opinions on what we proposed to do. They also told us about how they saw the future. An IBM executive predicted, for example, that the memory card developed for cameras might also be used to store entire books. Instead of carrying bulky books when travelling, one would only need memory cards and an electronic reader. The potential was enormous and growing quickly.

To protect the IT industry we formulated cyberlaws and cyber-security, neither of which was easy because our knowledge in these fast-evolving arenas was very limited. For example, we thought that we could somehow certify documents in the computer the way one does with hard copies. In the beginning, we also thought it was possible to protect signatures on the documents transmitted through computers. This has yet to be achieved. The world is still grappling with the problem of security for data stored and transmitted through the Internet. Hacking into what is stored and transmitted via computers is a growing problem, and viruses, worms, trojans and other sorts of malware have been developed to penetrate and destroy software and data. Previously unimagined, cybercrimes have arrived and the ordinary laws could not deal with them effectively.

We also ran into other problems. Our Government’s desire to take a leading role in the IT revolution was unquestionable but it was often impeded by the actions of inflexible civil servants. Some bureaucrats were uncomfortable with the idea of foreigners moving in and out of the country at will and they could not get over the need to control this process. When I was still in office, some 270 Indian researchers destined for our industries were arrested and detained as they were thought to be illegal immigrants. Naturally, they were outraged and their Press prominently reported the incident. That huge blunder made it more difficult for us to attract foreigners to help promote IT industries in the MSC.

Another recurrent problem was the unwillingness of qualified, well-trained Malaysian researchers to return from the US and Britain. We had no choice but to look for foreign researchers who might be interested in doing their research in Cyberjaya. Using my contacts, I met a Libyan Arab-American who had a research laboratory near New York. I visited his laboratory where he demonstrated some of his inventions, one of which involved the production of electricity using aluminium foil and aluminium cans. Some of his inventions had been reported in American scientific journals and had been sold to major electronic companies in the US, so I persuaded him to visit Malaysia to see our facilities. When he agreed to carry out part of his research in Cyberjaya, we built a laboratory for him and financed the purchase of research equipment. The plan was for him to manage the facility and recruit researchers from Malaysia and abroad. He was also hoping to bring back some of the Malaysian scientists who were still working overseas. I did not expect the research laboratory we had set up to suddenly discover miraculous money-spinning products. As with all such things, time was needed and I was prepared to wait.

But others were impatient. Some civil servants and senior politicians in Malaysia expected money invested in research laboratories to give a guaranteed return within a specific time. Trouble soon developed between the minister in charge and the Arab-American researcher; after I stepped down as Prime Minister, the Government accused him of embezzling money. They raided the laboratory and seized all the documents, forcing all work to stop. His laboratory, which had cost almost RM300 million to set up and equip, was placed in the custodial care of an accounting firm which charged a tidy sum. It later transpired that there had actually been no embezzlement, but against good business sense, the Government decided that the money invested in the laboratory had been a loan to the Arab-American researcher. He was now accused of not paying back that loan. Later still he was told that, since he had only one share in the company, he had no locus standi to make any claim or to return and reopen his laboratory.

Another incident that damaged Cyberjaya involved a proposal to set up a computer animation business. I met the computer animator himself and studied his work and credentials. I supported his move from Singapore to Cyberjaya as I also wanted him to work with the Multimedia University to train computer animators. Even at that time the demand for people with these skills was very high. Unfortunately, for reasons I just cannot understand, the man was directed to go to Johor and he eventually decided to return to Singapore. We lost a golden opportunity in an area of IT which I noticed was growing rapidly and dominating the film industry.

Our chances of sustained growth may easily be blighted by such thoughtlessness, and while Cyberjaya is still growing, the pace is now very slow. I attended an IAP meeting the first year after I stepped down but what is happening in Cyberjaya now is unclear. I trust that the MSC, which has now been expanded to include the whole of the Klang Valley and many other parts of Malaysia, will yet contribute to Malaysia’s progress in Information Technology.

When we privatised the Telecoms Department, I was cautious and reserved a large part of the company for the Government. Sure enough, after privatisation telecommunications usage grew rapidly and the enterprises became very profitable. Moreover, the Telecoms Department had several training facilities and with the expanded usage of telephones and related services, the demand for trained engineers increased. Very soon the training facilities were expanded and a university—which was subsequently named Multimedia University—was set up to specialise in telecommunications technology. The courses it offered included creative multimedia, electronics and engineering, and business administration. The university, where Hasmah today serves as Chancellor, has drawn a large number of foreign students and has also been able to partially meet our need for trained personnel to help us move into the Information Age.

In the meantime, new IT discoveries and applications were being developed almost daily. The capacity of the microchip is said to double every 18 months and as the transistor became ever smaller, more of them could be printed on microchip wafers. As their capacity increased the cost of the chips was also reduced and, together, this stimulated more new applications. Programming the chips enabled all kinds of functions to be added to them but we face some basic challenges here. The design of the chips requires certain skills which we need if we are to keep pace with IT development. New knowledge is being generated so quickly that we would be left far behind if we had to wait for research papers and publications to be translated into our national language. We lacked qualified people in these new disciplines who, fluent in both the national language and English, might carry out the translations. The few we did have could find far more important and rewarding employment: conducting research themselves, helping develop policy or pursuing entrepreneurial options rather than churning out translations. We risked being left behind in Information Technology just as we had been in the Industrial Age.

When the UMNO Supreme Council discussed this problem, the majority felt that we should use English to optimise the nation’s access to this new knowledge. But we also feared the reaction of the language nationalists. Some of them would rather we remain ignorant than forsake our national language. If a nationalist says, “my country, right or wrong”, then the credo of these critics was effectively “my language, right or wrong.” In the end, we reached a compromise. We would teach Science and Mathematics in English but would still teach other subjects in Malay. Malaysians must be bilingual at least, fluent in Malay and English and, in the case of non-Malays, in their mother tongue as well. Our renewed emphasis on English was no betrayal of nationalism but a nationalist choice. We decided on this course precisely because we wanted our people to be as well-educated and technologically advanced as the peoples of the developed countries. Unfortunately, the language nationalists were not placated. They cursed me for betraying Malay nationalism’s core belief, and the fact that a number of those who used hard words against me were my friends saddened me. Mostly they were people from the arts stream. They don’t seem to think science is important. They know how I feel and have always felt about my own race and people—specifically our right to our own language, culture and heritage. How then could they accuse me of betraying my people when what I wanted to do was to make them more knowledgeable?

Still, I knew it was the right thing to do, so I was willing to be cursed and vilified for taking this step. I am told the Japanese managed to master modern science and mathematics without learning English, but I also know that the success of the Japanese in their industrial development and economic growth involved mastery of English by key personnel. A Nobel laureate in physics whom I met spoke English fluently. Today, China is also expanding the teaching of English in its schools and the country has apparently targeted having 200 million Chinese who will be fluent in English. I had always been impressed by the fluency of Chinese interpreters assigned to me. They studied English entirely in China, yet they seemed able to master it.

Like it or not, English has become an international language, the lingua franca of the entire world. It has certainly become the language of science and technology and of modern knowledge generally. We cannot afford narrow language nationalism. We must not allow a misplaced loyalty to the Malay language to make us an ignorant people—not if we want to become as developed and respected as the peoples of the developed countries. Whatever the opinion of the language nationalists, I believe I am more a nationalist than they are.

Unfortunately the Government of Datuk Seri Najib Razak decided to reverse the policy and to teach science and mathematics in Malay, Chinese and Tamil. Appeals by parents to be given the option to use English have been rejected out of hand. By the time I stepped down, the MSC had succeeded beyond our expectations, exceeding the targets originally set for it. I felt satisfied with our progress in the Information Age when I stepped down. My fear was that, after me, this emphasis might not be shared and sustained. Unfortunately, Tun Abdullah Ahmad Badawi’s Government virtually reversed that IT policy, replacing it with one emphasising agricultural development. IT became a neglected, resented stepchild.

It is sad that our journey into the Information Age seems to have stagnated. We had a chance to participate in the new Information Age from the beginning, to start on an equal footing with other countries and with people eager to grasp the future and its new opportunities. We threw that chance away. Malaysia deserves and is capable of better.

ENDNOTE

[
1
] The Multimedia Development Corporation is the Government agency that manages the MSC.
 

When I stayed in Kuala Lumpur during my university days, there was not a single tall building around. There were only a few “hotels” but they were mainly lodging houses for travellers. These were ordinary shophouses with flimsy partitions that divided the upstairs floor space into rooms. The tree-lined Jalan Ampang and Jalan Tun Razak were the domain of the rich Chinese 
towkay
s, and there were so few motor vehicles on the road that I could cycle in safety all over the town.

Kuala Lumpur’s first “skyscraper” was the nine-storey Federal Hotel, launched three days before 
Merdeka.
 It remained KL’s tallest building until 1981, although by then it had been expanded to 21 storeys. In the next 40 years the city skyline
[1]
 changed drastically and today, in the heart of Kuala Lumpur, we have the PETRONAS Twin Towers, which for a while were the tallest buildings in the world. They are still the tallest twin towers in the world.
 

The towers were built on a 100-acre piece of land bordering Jalan Ampang which belonged to the Selangor Turf Club (started by the British when Sir Frank Swettenham was High Commissioner). The site was then outside the town and so posed no problems for a long time. By the early 1980s, however, weekend traffic in Jalan Ampang clashed with the crowds and cars on race days at the club. The resulting congestion became intolerable even to the still-small number of motorists at the time, so the Government asked the club to move out. T. Ananda Krishnan,
[2]
 who was a club member, bought the entire site, which by then was considered to be prime land. The Selangor Turf Club relocated to Sungai Besi by the North-South Expressway; unfortunately, on race days there are now traffic jams there too.
 

Ananda wanted to develop the site and recognised its commercial potential, especially since there was little chance that another piece of land of comparable size would ever become available again in the centre of Kuala Lumpur. But he was also sensitive to Malay feelings and did not want the most expensive real estate project in Kuala Lumpur to be owned entirely by him. He was conscious that any initiative to develop the property should have some Malay participation. The only company with the financial resources to do it was PETRONAS, and it bought half of his share.

The Government, meanwhile, had decided that the centre of the city needed a park. We concluded that the former Selangor Turf Club was the most suitable site but the Government could not afford to buy it. It also did not seem fair to ask Ananda and PETRONAS to donate or sell the land they had acquired. Instead, it was decided that their plans would be approved for development if only one half of the site was used. The other half should be developed into a public park, and to this they agreed.