A Doctor in The House: A Memoir of Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad Read Online Free Page A
Author: Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad
family they belong to.
Some people will see this chapter as racist at worst, and narcissistic at best—it is intended to be neither. I am a Malay and am proud of it. There are many reasons why I state this so strongly and boldly. Those who say that a leader’s ethnicity or gender does not matter to the people are fooling themselves. It was only during the 2008 US Presidential elections that a woman and an African-American became serious contenders for the post. To date, the US has only had one Roman Catholic leader, John F. Kennedy. Britain has a similar record. The indomitable Baroness Margaret Thatcher characteristically came from a very English family, and except for Benjamin Disraeli, who renounced Judaism, Britain has had no head of government or Prime Minister who was not white or Christian.
Multiracial democracies have nuances that homogenous countries cannot imagine. Racial tags often have a derogatory taint. In Malaysia, Chinese are popularly seen as money-grabbing and Indians as violent drunks. Malays, the majority race, are said to be lazy and lacking in intellectual capacity. Stereotypes will always persist, even in the most progressive and educated societies. But a good leader does not let them go unchallenged. Every time when, as Prime Minister, I made a mistake or an unpopular decision, people were ready with their “dim-witted Malay” slurs. But when I made good decisions, those that brought progress and prosperity to the nation, it was always because I had Indian blood. I wanted to prove otherwise: that Malays were more than capable of thinking, progressing and leading.
Nearly every Malay in Malaysia has some non-Malay blood. But that fact doesn’t make them any less Malay. We seem to categorise ourselves in such puzzling ways that managing our multiracial country is extremely difficult. Racial categorisations make a great deal of difference to the acceptance or rejection of one’s leadership and decisions.
The Peninsular Malays have long lived at the crossroads between the East and the West, so they intermarried with others and became mixed earlier than most people. The most common intermarriages were with Indians and Arabs. At one time the offspring of such marriages were classed, often derogatorily, as either DKK ( Darah Keturunan Keling , Malays of Indian blood) or DKA ( Darah Keturunan Arab , Malays of Arab blood). Today, such labels are no longer used. Each classification generated its own distinctive stereotypes, some of them negative.
In Malaysia today, being Malay is not a question of descent, of one’s family history of intermarriage, and hence the popular idiom of “blood”. “Malayness” is a legal construct. One is a Malay if one satisfies certain legal conditions. Constitutionally, a Malay is defined as a person who habitually speaks Malay, practises Malay customs and is a Muslim. An individual who meets these requirements is a Malay and all such individuals are automatically citizens enjoying rights in the nation. Citizens of Malay origin are entitled to certain rights that go with this legal personality. Others, too, become citizens of Malaysia by the operation of the Constitution and the law, but the formal or technical basis of their citizenship is different, at least at this time. Ultimately, all who are born in Malaysia and owe sole allegiance to it will, we hope and also plan, become members of the one people and nation, termed Bangsa Malaysia. [1]
Until we reach that point, race relations in Malaysia will remain a topic of perennial interest and controversy. We are often accused of being chauvinistic and the constitutional provision defining “Malay” is sometimes regarded as divisive and exclusionary, and also a trap to lure the unwitting into joining our racial ranks. Yet it was, in fact, meant to deflect racism by placing all Malays—no matter what their ethnic heritage—on an equal footing. To my mind, that approach has worked, although Johor oddly enough
Some people will see this chapter as racist at worst, and narcissistic at best—it is intended to be neither. I am a Malay and am proud of it. There are many reasons why I state this so strongly and boldly. Those who say that a leader’s ethnicity or gender does not matter to the people are fooling themselves. It was only during the 2008 US Presidential elections that a woman and an African-American became serious contenders for the post. To date, the US has only had one Roman Catholic leader, John F. Kennedy. Britain has a similar record. The indomitable Baroness Margaret Thatcher characteristically came from a very English family, and except for Benjamin Disraeli, who renounced Judaism, Britain has had no head of government or Prime Minister who was not white or Christian.
Multiracial democracies have nuances that homogenous countries cannot imagine. Racial tags often have a derogatory taint. In Malaysia, Chinese are popularly seen as money-grabbing and Indians as violent drunks. Malays, the majority race, are said to be lazy and lacking in intellectual capacity. Stereotypes will always persist, even in the most progressive and educated societies. But a good leader does not let them go unchallenged. Every time when, as Prime Minister, I made a mistake or an unpopular decision, people were ready with their “dim-witted Malay” slurs. But when I made good decisions, those that brought progress and prosperity to the nation, it was always because I had Indian blood. I wanted to prove otherwise: that Malays were more than capable of thinking, progressing and leading.
Nearly every Malay in Malaysia has some non-Malay blood. But that fact doesn’t make them any less Malay. We seem to categorise ourselves in such puzzling ways that managing our multiracial country is extremely difficult. Racial categorisations make a great deal of difference to the acceptance or rejection of one’s leadership and decisions.
The Peninsular Malays have long lived at the crossroads between the East and the West, so they intermarried with others and became mixed earlier than most people. The most common intermarriages were with Indians and Arabs. At one time the offspring of such marriages were classed, often derogatorily, as either DKK ( Darah Keturunan Keling , Malays of Indian blood) or DKA ( Darah Keturunan Arab , Malays of Arab blood). Today, such labels are no longer used. Each classification generated its own distinctive stereotypes, some of them negative.
In Malaysia today, being Malay is not a question of descent, of one’s family history of intermarriage, and hence the popular idiom of “blood”. “Malayness” is a legal construct. One is a Malay if one satisfies certain legal conditions. Constitutionally, a Malay is defined as a person who habitually speaks Malay, practises Malay customs and is a Muslim. An individual who meets these requirements is a Malay and all such individuals are automatically citizens enjoying rights in the nation. Citizens of Malay origin are entitled to certain rights that go with this legal personality. Others, too, become citizens of Malaysia by the operation of the Constitution and the law, but the formal or technical basis of their citizenship is different, at least at this time. Ultimately, all who are born in Malaysia and owe sole allegiance to it will, we hope and also plan, become members of the one people and nation, termed Bangsa Malaysia. [1]
Until we reach that point, race relations in Malaysia will remain a topic of perennial interest and controversy. We are often accused of being chauvinistic and the constitutional provision defining “Malay” is sometimes regarded as divisive and exclusionary, and also a trap to lure the unwitting into joining our racial ranks. Yet it was, in fact, meant to deflect racism by placing all Malays—no matter what their ethnic heritage—on an equal footing. To my mind, that approach has worked, although Johor oddly enough
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