From Third World to First The Singapore Story pdfdrive com

partners bringing in the latest technology. He understood, as did Tran Duc
Luong, with whom I covered the same ground.
Once again I was taken to see Do Muoi. It was, as on previous occasions, a
good discussion. But I fear its impact will again be limited. The Vietnamese will
take some time to shake off their communist straitjackets and move freely and
flexibly. Once they have done this, I have little doubt they can make the grade.
The skill with which they used Soviet weapons and improvised to overcome
critical shortages during the war, and the accomplishments of Vietnamese
refugees in America and France are reminders of their formidable qualities.
My first visit to Rangoon (Yangon) was in April 1962. Prime Minister U Nu
of Burma (as Myanmar was called before 1989) had asked General Ne Win to
take over in 1958 because his elected government could not contain the
insurgencies and rebellions of the many minority groups. After 18 months of
military rule, a general election was held. When U Nu’s party was returned, Ne
Win handed back power. But soon U Nu was in difficulties again, and Ne Win
seized power in March 1962, just before my visit.
Unlike Colombo, which I visited in 1956, Rangoon seemed dilapidated and
run-down. It had been under Japanese occupation, and although spared the worst
when the British fought their way back from Bengal, the damage had been
considerable. Ne Win received Choo and me warmly at his house. I was
disconcerted to see it ringed with guns and tanks. Obviously he took no chances.
My visit was to counter the propaganda of Indonesia’s President Sukarno that
Malaysia was a neo-colonialist plot. Over lunch, Ne Win listened to my

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explanations, but was not attentive. He was preoccupied with maintaining law
and order, keeping down insurrections and holding Burma together.
He lived in a medium-sized bungalow in the suburbs. He was friendly, as
was his wife, Khin May Than (Kitty), a former nurse and a vivacious lady. Both
were English-speaking and intelligent. Burma was one of the better-endowed
countries of Southeast Asia, a rice and food exporter before the war. However,
the democratic system of government did not work. The people were not of one
race, speaking one language. The British had brought together into one country a
whole host of different races occupying different parts of this mountainous
country.
“The Burmese way to socialism” was Ne Win’s motto for the Socialist
Republic of the Union of Burma. His policy was simple: achieve self-reliance
and get rid of the Indians and Chinese who had come into Burma with the
British. The Chinese had started to leave even under U Nu, many settling in
Thailand and Singapore. The larger number were the Indians, whom the British
had recruited into the government service. They were slowly squeezed out.
My next visit to Rangoon was in May 1965, after attending a conference for
Asian socialists in Bombay. Ne Win liked that part of my speech where I had
said, “If we approach Asian problems of poverty and underdevelopment through
the rosy spectacles of the Western European socialists we are sure to fail.” I did
not realise at that time how determined he was to be self-sufficient, to have little
to do with the outside world and to return to a romantic, idyllic past when Burma
was rich and self-sufficient.
My one unforgettable conversation during that visit was with the butler at the
Strand Hotel – an Indian in his late 50s, with greying hair and beard. He brought
in breakfast looking forlorn and dejected, and said in English, “Sir, this is my
last day, I shall not be here tomorrow.” He did not know whether his Burmese
assistant would be able to serve me the same breakfast: British-style tea with
milk and sugar, toast and scrambled eggs. I asked why he wanted to leave. He
replied, “I have to leave. I was born and have lived here all my life, but the
government wants all Indians to leave. I cannot take with me more than a small
sum of money and my personal belongings.” Where was he going? “India.” Did
he have relatives there? “No.” His grandparents had been brought in by the
British but the government wanted to send him back. He was right about my
breakfast. The next day the tray was not as neat nor the toast as crisp.
That afternoon, Ne Win played golf with me at the former British Rangoon
Golf Club. It was an extraordinary game. On both sides of every fairway and

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surrounding us, the four players, were troops with guns, facing outwards. When
not swinging a club Ne Win wore a steel helmet. I hesitated to ask why. His
minister, one of the players, murmured something about an assassination threat.
When Ne Win visited Singapore in 1968 and played golf, he was not
security-conscious and did not wear a steel helmet. When he next came, in 1974,
I suggested we should coordinate our policies to get the United States, China and
the Soviet Union to maintain a presence in the region, so as to have some power
balance. He was not in the least interested, preferring to leave these matters to
the superpowers.
I last visited Rangoon in January 1986. Ne Win’s new wife was a doctor,
well-educated and much younger than Kitty, who had died. Ne Win had an
excellent recall of events that happened 15–30 years ago. Over dinner, I found
that despite Burma’s 20 years of economic stagnation, he was as distrustful of
foreign powers as ever. He spoke of being locked in a “battle of wits” against
elements outside Burma who wanted to make as much as they could at the
expense of his country.
It was sad to see Rangoon worse than it had been since my 1965 visit. There
were no new roads or buildings. Everything was in disrepair and there were
potholes in the main roads. The few cars were of 1950 or ’60 vintage. There was
nothing any of his ministers could do, given his policies. The English newspaper
was a single-leaf, four-page tabloid. The Burmese paper was slightly less
skimpy. The people in attendance at their famous Shwe Dagon pagoda looked
shabby and poor. From my car, the shops looked empty.
When his prime minister, Maung Maung Kha, visited Singapore in
September 1986, I tried to interest him in tourism, telling him of an article I had
read in the