M. Bakri Musa
[Presented at the Third Annual Alif Ba Ta Forum, "1Malaysia Towards Vision
2020," Rochester Institute of Technology, NY, December 5, 2009, organized
by Kelab UMNO NY-NJ. The presentation can be viewed at www.youtube.com
(search under "Bakri Musa RIT") or through this link:
http://www.youtube.com/user/alchemistar ]
Next: Diamond of Development
In my book Towards A Competitive Malaysia, I relate how the four cardinal
elements – leaders, people, culture, and geography – govern a society's
trajectory of development. Each element influences and in turn is being
influenced by the other three, as illustrated by my "Diamond of
Development" diagrammatic representation. When all four factors are
favorable, we have a virtuous cycle propelling that society quickly
towards progress. When one element is wanting, it quickly exerts its
negative influence on the other three, and soon we would have a vicious
cycle leading towards a quick downward spiral.
An important caveat to my diamond of development is that it
presumes peace. When a nation is at war or in conflict, the only
certainty is death and destruction, not development. This is a
much-needed reminder for a plural society like Malaysia. Just look at
Northern Ireland and Sri Lanka.
I do not wish to discuss geography as there is nothing we can
do to alter it. As for leaders, we are fortunate to live in a democracy
and can choose and reject our leaders freely. As for culture, Dr. Azly
will discuss that, specifically the role of education in changing it.
In this presentation I will discuss "us," the people, and how
we could mobilize ourselves so we could influence our leaders and
culture, as well as take full advantage of our geographical attributes.
It is "We, the people" who will drive Malaysia towards Montreal. We will
get there by developing our people, not by building fancy freeways or
driving Formula One cars. If we do not develop the skills of our people,
those freeways will become nothing but killing alleys, and the cars lethal
machines, literally and metaphorically.
The challenge then is in enhancing the skills of our people
and making them more productive.
If we were to measure any human attribute, we would find that
its distribution in the population would follow a normal curve. At one
end would be the fortunate few blessed with super ability; at the other,
those less fortunate. The vast majority would, as expected, have average
ability.
For illustrative purposes, I will choose an attribute that has
minimal emotive association: The ability to fish. At one end would be
those who have the uncanny knack of finding the best fishing holes and
hauling in the trophy catches. At the other, those who would not even
know which end of the fishing pole to stick in the water. The vast
majority would be average, able to catch a pound or two, enough to feed
the family but not to win fishing derbies.
If I were to do a similar survey of another group, for example
the Polynesians, the curve would be also bell-shaped, but it would be
shifted to the right, to use the language of the statistician. Meaning,
the average Polynesian would catch more, and their star fishermen would
haul in even bigger trophies than ours. This is not surprising;
surrounded as they are by the ocean, they learn to fish soon after taking
their first breath.
On the other hand if I were to do a similar survey of
sub-Saharan tribesmen, I would still get a normal curve, but this time it
would be shifted to the left. Meaning, more of them would not know which
end of the pole to stick in the water. This is not surprising as the
only water they see is at the occasional oasis.
This is all mildly interesting, a reflection of the diversity
of humankind, of divine design. Not so to the nationalists and
chauvinists. To them this is a serious matter of tribal pride. The
nationalists differ from the chauvinists only in degree, not in kind.
Forgetting about tribal pride, if as a penghulu (village head)
I wish to increase the amount of fish caught by my people, what strategy
should I adopt? Should I focus on the super-achievers, the average
villagers, or the underachievers?
Focusing on the super-achievers would be the easiest and most
rewarding. They are already highly motivated; they love what they do.
With the slightest support and encouragement they would take off and haul
in the biggest fish. Then the rest of society would bask in the reflected
glory and share the bragging rights. Because of the immediate and visible
results, it would also be easier to secure even greater funding for them
in the next budget. Their success would also inspire the rest to strive
harder so they too could reap the rewards and adulations.
However, teaching these super achievers is no easy task,
especially in finding the teachers. These superb fishermen would be more
interested in fishing, not lecturing; the adage of those who can, do;
those who can't, teach. The other point is that even if you do not give
them any extra attention, these super achievers will do well anyway; all
society has to do is not stand in their way.
Supporting these super achievers would also send a clear
statement of society's values: the recognition and rewarding of
excellence. With the message percolating down, that society would be
inspired towards excellence.
There are also good grounds for focusing on the
underachievers. For one, it would be easy to teach them. Improving
their results would also be easy as they start from a very low base.
There would be challenges of course; for example, their commitment and
motivation would be low.
There is another –and moral – reason for helping them. It is
the right thing to do. They too are a part of our community, and being a
part of a community means just that: we are in it together. Even if they
could only catch the occasional fish, that would be achievement enough;
you would see that in their faces. It would also mean their being less
dependent on society.
The more pragmatic reason for teaching them is that when they
are busy fishing, even if they were not to catch anything, they would be
occupied and not have time to bother the other fishermen or create
mischief, like swimming in the water and scaring the fish away.
As for the middle group, teaching them should also be easy;
merely provide them with better rods, stronger lines, and bigger hooks.
In large volumes those things are also fairly cheap.
Now consider the aggregate results of the different
strategies. Even if we were to double the yield of the superb fishermen
(a major challenge as they are already at their best), their combined
contributions to the total catch would still not be much because of their
small number. The same holds with the underachievers, and even more so.
The greatest aggregate yield would be if we were to focus on
the huge middle group. If we were to improve their individual production
by only 10 percent, their total contribution would be tremendous. Sure,
they would not haul in the trophy catches and we would not have the
opportunity to brag about their achievements, but where it counts – the
total poundage of catch – you could not beat their contributions. This
gain would also be the most sustainable and enduring as it is broad
based.
Nehru's India Versus Tunku's Malaysia
My fish story is not mere fanciful imagination. Consider the approaches
to education in India under Nehru and Malaysia under Tunku Abdul Rahman
during the late 1950s.
The Cambridge-educated Nehru believed that smart Indians
should be given the opportunities he had. Since they all could not go to
Cambridge, Nehru established a string of elite colleges, The Indian
Institutes of Technology (IIT), modeled after Imperial College and MIT,
the best. In short, he focused on the super-achievers.
Tunku was also Cambridge-educated, but he was a humble man and
his goals more modest. More critically, he knew the limitations of his
country, especially its resources. Equally important, he sensed the
acute needs of his people; he therefore emphasized schools over colleges.
Soon after taking over, Tunku's Minister of Education Tun
Razak embarked on the massive Operation Torch (Gerakan Lampu Suloh),
training thousands of teachers and building hundreds of new schools,
especially in the villages. In my youth, within a ten-mile radius of my
kampong there were no fewer than seven new schools being built. It was a
remarkable civil and social engineering initiative. It truly brought
light to the countryside hitherto dark because of illiteracy.
Childhood illiteracy has long ago been wiped out in Malaysia
but remains a severe blight in India, afflicting far too many. As
economists now acknowledge the major role of education in development, it
is not a surprise that Malaysia outstrips India. From 1970 to 2000,
India's per capita GDP merely doubled while Malaysia's nearly quadrupled.
There are of course other contributing factors. For one, Malaysia
embraces free enterprise; India is enamored with socialism, but there is
no denying the importance of providing basic education to citizens.
A more practical test of the wisdom of the two strategies
would be this. Today, if there were no immigration rules, millions of
Indians would grab the opportunity to migrate to Malaysia, but few
Malaysians would opt to move to India.
This did not mean that Nehru's worthy efforts were wasted.
Many of those IIT graduates went on to great western universities and
later became CEOs of Citibank and Coca Cola, or professors at leading
universities. A few went on to win the Nobel Prize. Fellow Indians back
home rightly bask in the reflected glory; alas back in their villages,
things remains pitiable and pathetic.
Even if those successful Indians had wanted to return, their
motherland had minimal capacity to use their talent. Perhaps in the long
run the average Indian would benefit from Nehru's bold vision, but then in
the long run, as Keynes famously noted, we are all dead.
Next: Part Three of Six: Encouraging Malays Entrepreneurs and
Scientists
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