Pro-Bumiputra policies in Malaysia hamper research

Mon Nov 14 14:04:39 UTC 2005

>>From The Chronicle of Higher Education
http://chronicle.com/weekly/v52/i12/12a04301.htm
>>From the issue dated November 11, 2005

Malaysia's Stagnation
Ethnic quotas and a byzantine bureaucracy hamper the country's attempt to
become a scientific powerhouse

By MARTHA ANN OVERLAND

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

After graduating from medical school in Canada in the 1970s, Eng Hin Lee
was eager to return home. The young Malaysian doctor wanted to be closer
to his family, and he was tired of the harsh Canadian winters that never
seemed to end. He also missed the simple pleasures of home, such as eating
Chinese dim sum, which means "to touch the heart." Dr. Lee knew that
Malaysia, a young country hobbled by poverty, could not match the
opportunities and salaries paid abroad. But he felt strongly that there
was a place for him there. So the young doctor packed his bags and moved
home.

"I wanted to go back to help," says Dr. Lee. Yet when he returned it
became obvious it would be difficult to pursue his research goals.
Biomedical science in Malaysia was in its nascent stage. Labs were
pitifully equipped. There was no significant scientific environment in
which to grow or contribute. After two frustrating years, he packed his
bags again. But it wasn't because of the money. It wasn't because of the
labs. Dr. Lee, who is ethnically Chinese, did not feel welcome in his own
country. Racial policies that had been put in place while he was away made
it clear to him that he would never advance.

For years the Chinese community in Malaysia had excelled in education and
in business. The majority Malay community of farmers and fisherman
controlled little of the country's wealth. Following anti-Chinese riots in
1969, however, Malaysia aggressively put into place national policies to
promote the country's Bumiputra, or "sons of the soil." Quotas governing
everything from education to employment suddenly put the brakes on the
aspirations of the country's minorities. "It was obvious you wouldn't get
very far if you weren't the right race,"  says Dr. Lee.

Today he works at the National University of Singapore, where he is in
charge of a huge lab that is conducting cutting-edge research in stem-cell
biology. Dr. Lee, an orthopedic surgeon, leads a team of top scientists
culled from all over the world. "Having come here I think I made the right
choice," says Dr. Lee, referring to Singapore's premier teaching hospital.
In Malaysia, "I probably would not have become a head of department and
dean of the Faculty of Medicine."

Malaysia's racial policies have changed little since Dr. Lee left 30 years
ago. Today Malays are practically guaranteed admission into public
universities, and they receive nearly all of the scholarships despite
performing lower academically than other ethnic groups. By law, Malays are
given most of the government jobs and are awarded most of the business
contracts. Bumiputra even pay lower interest rates and housing prices.
Unable to gain admission into the few quality universities in the country,
each year tens of thousands of young Chinese and Indian Malaysians leave
to attend institutions abroad. With few jobs open to them if they were to
return, the best and brightest rarely come back. Efforts to lure
Malaysian-born scientists home through its Brain Gain schemes, begun 10
years ago, have been an embarrassment.

A Losing Proposition

Yet Malaysia, like neighboring Singapore, is banking on becoming a
biotechnology hub. Hoping to offset its declining electronics
manufacturing industry, the nation has invested millions of dollars to
build science parks and research facilities. And like Singapore, it has
launched a major campaign to lure top-notch scientists to its shores. But
Malaysia's ethnic policies have come back to haunt it. Despite the
similarities between the two countries, which until 1965 were one and the
same, the results could not be more different. Malaysia has failed to
attract even a tiny fraction of the 35,000 scientists the government says
it needs to become a biotech powerhouse. In fact, Malaysia has lost far
more people to brain drain than it has been able to hire from abroad.

Even efforts to bolster Malaysia's science infrastructure have attracted
few takers. Projects such as the Multimedia Super Corridor have ended up
as fancy office space for foreign high-tech companies. The once
much-touted BioValley, envisioned along the lines of Singapore's Biopolis,
remains an empty dirt lot two years after it was announced. And though the
government is spending more money on research and laboratory facilities,
even the Ministry of Science, Technology and Innovation grudgingly admits
that the number of patent applications has barely budged from where it was
10 years ago. "We definitely don't have our act together," says Lim Guan
Eng, the secretary general of the opposition Democratic Action Party.
Politicians who talk of Malaysia becoming a leader in the sciences are
fooling themselves, he says.

"We have nothing to offer them," says Mr. Lim, referring to Malaysians who
left out of frustration with the country's racial policies. "We don't have
world-class universities. We don't have world-class teachers. The best
people have left the country, and they aren't coming back."

Part of the Problem

In Malaysia, the universities are considered part of the problem, not the
solution, explains Charles Santiago, a political economist who runs the
Kuala Lumpur-based group Monitoring Sustainability of Globalization.
Professors, as public employees, have to sign loyalty oaths. They can be
fired for criticizing the government. Spies in the classrooms help ensure
they don't, according to Mr. Santiago and others. "Universities are seen
as the machinery of the government," says Mr.  Santiago, one of the rare
people who will openly criticize the authoritarian government. "This has
stifled academic excellence. Our Ph.D.'s are not qualified. Our
universities and our intellectual life suffer from credibility. In the end
we are unable to compete in the global marketplace."

Yazid Hamid, chief executive of the Academy of Knowledge for Accounting
and Leadership, has seen the effects of that firsthand. His academy runs
basic training programs for employees of Malaysia's large state-run energy
and telecommunication companies. He says his fellow Malays lack the skills
as well as the drive that those firms demand. Students are spoon-fed
through college and expect to be handed a job when they graduate, he says.
Most of them are incompetent, he says, and that is the main reason that
Malaysia has 50,000 unemployed graduates even though the country has a
severe shortage of workers. Mr. Hamid is one of many Malays who strongly
advocate doing away with the pro-Bumiputra policies. He believes that
quotas were needed to help reverse the fortunes of the Malays, which was
long overdue. But he says the cost has become too high. The country
consistently scores poorly in surveys that measure innovation, R&D
capabilities, and entrepreneurship.  He blames it on quotas.

"If you really want to drive this nation, you have to get rid of quotas,"
says Mr. Hamid. "Only without regard to ethnicity can we truly be a global
player." Increasingly, politicians at the highest level are publicly
acknowledging that Malaysia's ethnic policies are partly to blame for the
culture of mediocrity. Fong Chan Onn, Malaysia's human-resources minister,
recently acknowledged that many of the country's unemployed graduates with
degrees in information technology lack the skill or aptitude to be
software programmers.

'Put Down Your Crutches'

Last year, in his first address as prime minister to his pro-Malay ruling
party, Abdullah Ahmad Badawi told Malays to put down their crutches
because "we may eventually end up in wheelchairs." He repeated the call in
June, lambasting Malays for squandering the opportunities offered by the
pro-Bumiputra policies. Remarkably, he still has his job. And for some,
that alone is a sign of progress. After many senior government officials,
including the prime minister at the time, Mahathir Mohamad, recognized the
need for reforms, affirmative action in state universities ended in 2003.
Officially, quotas were dead.  But instead of a single examination for all
students, as promised, the Ministry of Education designed a new system
that once again heavily favors Malays.

Bumiputras now take a one-year course before they can enroll in a college.
Most Chinese and Indian students participate in a two-year program and
much more rigorous end-of-year exams. Despite the disparities, an A in one
program carries the same weight as an A in the other. Last year, under
this system, 128 straight-A students were denied seats in medical school.
All of them were ethnic Chinese and Indian. There are no new plans to
dismantle the pro-Malay policies. It will take more political resolve than
Malaysia has at the moment. Meanwhile, the government is now floating a
new Brain Gain scheme. The newest program doesn't require Malaysian
skilled professionals to actually move back to Malaysia. Instead, the
Ministry of Science, Technology and Innovation wants to encourage
Malaysians living abroad to contribute from afar.

It is unclear exactly how such a plan will work or if it will work at all.
But Eng Hin Lee, the Malaysian scientist in Singapore, says the solution
is far simpler than creating yet another doomed Brain Gain scheme. "We
would love to go back," says Dr. Lee. "But first you have to make us feel
we are welcome."

http://chronicle.com
Section: International
Volume 52, Issue 12, Page A43

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Copyright  2005 by The Chronicle of Higher Education