The Singapore Story: Memoirs of Lee Kuan Yew (84 page)

He proposed that there should be a standstill while negotiations were going on, a kind of truce. I reminded him of what had happened to the last truce. I suggested that the Tunku and I should issue a statement to say that we had agreed in principle to stay out of each other’s hair for the period of Confrontation, and to emphasise that details were being worked out as to how this could be achieved administratively so as to leave the fundamentals of Malaysia unchanged. Head concurred, but did not mean it. He told me that the rearrangements would be a major victory we should not give Sukarno, because it would only encourage him to persist with Confrontation. He advised me to be patient and wait for that to end. It could not go on for long because the Indonesian economy was suffering and hyperinflation was destroying it. Once it was over, I could press the Tunku on constitutional issues.

I listened carefully, discussed it with my colleagues, and concluded that the British would not want Malaysia to take any risk by adopting a looser arrangement that would only work with a PAP government in
Singapore, and would lead to serious problems if the Barisan were the government. I also decided that we stood a better chance of getting a reasonable constitutional rearrangement if I pressed my case with the Tunku while the British were defending Malaysia against Indonesia and could still influence him. Head had said that while he would rather we sorted things out for ourselves, he had been given wide discretion by his government, and it could bring enormous weight to bear if necessary.

The next day, 24 February, I asked him to see me at Singapore House in Kuala Lumpur. I told him I could not get the Tunku to issue a statement because he (Head) had frightened him against saying or doing anything. The position was bound to deteriorate with both sides slugging it out, and we might find ourselves with a third riot on our hands. Head said he would get the Tunku to announce that he was thinking of making minor adjustments to Malaysia for smoother working, but not fundamental or radical changes. Negotiations over the police and finance would take at least six months; the position meanwhile had to be held.

I gave a written assessment to the cabinet: not only were Mountbatten and Head putting pressure on the Malaysian leaders, but British officials trusted by the Alliance ministers, like Fenner in the police and Gould in the federal treasury, were doing their utmost to thwart the Tunku on the rearrangements. The British wanted no changes while Confrontation was still on, and if there were to be any, they must be minimal. The police, both uniformed and Special Branch, were to remain under the control of the centre. My conclusion: “From my experience of the merger negotiations, this is characteristic of British methods. Never head-on assault to say that there will be no changes, but a gradual piecemeal erosion of the other man’s point of view. … I do not know whether he (Head) intends to wear us down.” I did not rule out the possibility that if we failed to heed Head’s advice, he might indicate to the Tunku that the British would be prepared to connive at his eliminating our challenge in the Federation altogether.

Our bargaining asset was the political strength we derived from our party branches in Malaya and our presence in parliament, which enabled us to rally the non-Malays and progressive Malays throughout Malaysia. But for that, and our ability to call mass rallies and campaign in Malaya, Tan Siew Sin would have just ignored our attacks on his budget and brought his bill for the turnover tax before parliament.

The behind-the-scenes discussions had nevertheless kept the situation from boiling over. Both sides wanted to avoid a collision. Both wanted a looser arrangement to end the constant friction that in the long term would weaken Malaysia’s position internationally and internally. But the British would have none of that, and worked strenuously to keep Malaysia intact; the Australians and New Zealanders supported the British. The Australian high commissioner, Tom Critchley, and his deputy in Singapore, Bill Pritchett, both urged me to leave things completely unchanged constitutionally and administratively, get out of Malayan politics and close the PAP branches in the peninsula in return for having two ministers in the federal government. I told Critchley that we could not withdraw the PAP from Malaya while UMNO operated in Singapore and the Malay extremists could be used as a stick to blackmail us with the threat of communal unrest. UMNO could not have their cake and eat it.

One saving grace in the midst of the growing tension and bitter altercation between Singapore and Malaysian leaders was that confidential dialogue was still possible between Keng Swee and myself on the one hand, and the Tunku and Razak on the other. Razak was comfortable with Keng Swee but not with me; the Tunku also preferred Keng Swee but did not find me unacceptable and would talk to me, so our private and frank exchanges at a personal level were able to prevent disaster.

But since the public altercation between Kuala Lumpur and Singapore was causing disquiet in Australia and New Zealand, their high commissioners (after clearing it with the Tunku) extended official invitations
to me to tour their countries in March and April 1965. I would be able to explain why, despite internal differences, Singapore was solidly behind Kuala Lumpur against Confrontation. This would help to reassure their peoples that their governments should support Malaysia against the Indonesians.

So on 5 March, I found myself landing in Auckland.

39. Seeking Support Down Under

New Zealand was a welcome break. Choo and I stayed in a delightful little hotel in Auckland where white maids, dressed like their English counterparts just after the war, brought us morning tea with bread and butter in bed before offering us a huge breakfast of steaks and lamb chops, which we declined. We drove from Auckland to Wellington, making two overnight stops. At every town along the way, the mayor, wearing his chain of office as he would in Britain, greeted us, gave us lunch or tea, and made a short speech of welcome.

In Wellington, I called on Keith Holyoake, the prime minister, at his office in parliament. After our discussion, he took me to meet his cabinet for a free-ranging exchange of views. They were reassured that I was solidly behind Malaysia. They sympathised with my views and supported a multiracial solution to our problems. At a state luncheon at Parliament House, Holyoake spoke in warm terms. “There are more than military ties which bind New Zealand to Malaysia,” he said. He expressed admiration for the progress Singapore had made under me and said that I had worked tirelessly in the service of the new state of Malaysia, “a state troubled by the growing pains common to young countries – pains aggravated by the bullying threats of its larger neighbour, Indonesia. I have no doubt Mr Lee will refuse to be intimidated by such threats, and will continue to work unremittingly to ensure the stability, prosperity and progress of the country he was so instrumental in creating.” As if to underline the threats, while I was still in Wellington, a bomb placed by Indonesian saboteurs went off at MacDonald House in Singapore, where the Australian high commission and the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank were located, killing two and injuring 35 others.

The next day, I spoke to the students and academic staff of Victoria University. I complimented Britain for having the wisdom to know when it faced an irresistible revolution mounted by communists and by nationalists. Instead of trying to stamp out both, Britain had allowed the nationalists to provide the non-communist leadership. On the other hand, when trying to stamp out communism in South Vietnam, the United States had relied on people like Ngo Dinh Diem, and in 11 years had failed to find a group who could lead the nation. So South Vietnam was going through its death throes and the Americans were in an unenviable position. The South Vietnamese themselves had lost confidence and were opting out of the conflict. This left the Americans with only two alternatives – to increase their military occupation or make a calamitous withdrawal. (By April 1975, ten years later, they had done both.)

From Wellington, we flew to Christchurch, drove to Dunedin and Invercargill, then flew back to Wellington. I found New Zealand fascinating. In speech, manners and way of life, they were much more like the British than were the Australians. The country was green and wet, like southern England. And they were friendly and hospitable.

My next stop was Sydney, the starting point of an 18-day tour of Australia that would take us to Canberra, Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth. In Canberra, I spoke to members of the National Press Club. Indonesia’s Confrontation of Malaysia was very much on their minds:

“We have a common neighbour, bigger in numbers than both of us, poorer than either of us and likely to be in a state of unrest and turbulence for a long while yet … We know that military and economic aid cannot guarantee us our ultimate success, but at least it will buy us time.”

But the situation in South Vietnam showed that however massive the military cover, however enormous the economic assistance, if the leaders did not set out to secure their own salvation, the end result would still be perdition, both for the helper and the helped. I said:

“The more Malay leadership in Malaysia talks in terms of Malay nationalism, the more non-Malays in Malaysia will be in doubt as to their future. Theoretically, there would be three possibilities if disintegration set in:

(1)   Malaysia’s absorption or conquest by a third power;

(2)   Supremacy of one community over the others in Malaysia; or

(3)   A drift towards segregation and ultimately partition.

“All three have gruesome implications.”

A large crowd of journalists and diplomats applauded my frankness and realism.

I then met Sir Robert Menzies, the prime minister. Menzies carried weight with the Tunku. Unlike Harold Wilson, he was a Conservative, and had always supported the Tunku. The Tunku had spoken of him in warm terms, and if Menzies would now urge him to seek a solution for Malaysia through political accommodation and not force, he was more likely to succeed than if Wilson did so. He was interested in what I had to say and our meeting lasted for 75 minutes, twice as long as scheduled. After that he took me to meet his whole cabinet for a free-ranging discussion.

I explained the pressures the Tunku was under. Sukarno was appealing over his head to the Malays of Malaysia, a large proportion of whom had come not so very long ago from Sumatra and Java. But by trying to outbid Sukarno’s pan-Malayism, the Tunku was alienating the Chinese and the Indians. It was crucial that somebody he trusted, like Menzies, should explain to him that the long-term future lay not in squatting on the Chinese and Indians, but in giving them a place under the Malaysian sun. I pointed out that the three major races in Malaysia – the Malays, Chinese and Indians – had the wellsprings of their culture outside Malaysia, in Indonesia, China and India. The leaders in those countries could pull at their heartstrings as much if not more than could the Malaysian leaders themselves. Menzies was sympathetic. He took my analysis seriously and asked me to give him a note on what I saw as a solution to the problem. I promised to do this when I got back to Singapore. My meetings with him and with his cabinet were not reported in the Malaysian press, probably to avoid annoying the Tunku.

With Australian Prime Minister Sir Robert Menzies in Canberra, March 1965.

It was a gruelling trip. In every city I made speeches, gave interviews on radio and television, and addressed university audiences and the press. It was well worth the effort. I put across a realistic picture of Malaysia and left New Zealanders and Australians in no doubt that we needed and valued their help, that they were right to help us, and that together, we could succeed.

When I returned to Singapore on 3 April, I found the Alliance leaders angry, alleging that I had been critical of the federal government and the Tunku. Even while I was still in Australia, V.T. Sambanthan, the MIC leader and the Tunku’s minister for posts, works and telecommunications, hit out at me “for speaking indifferently” about the Alliance. He said I had got what I wanted, namely Malaysia, and now spoke of the government as being ignorant of politics and run by princes, sultans and chiefs. But I had not said this in any of my speeches.