Tribute to Ong Jin Eong

I've just learnt of the recent demise of a chess friend's father, Professor Dr Ong Jin Eong. Like the two of us, he was also an Old Free but from the Class of 1960/62 (Form Five/Upper Six). From Penang Free School, he continued his studies at the University of Melbourne and did his Ph.D. at the University of Tasmania. I'll reveal more of that man's life later on in this passage.

From what I've read from tributes that had been flowing in from around social media, Dr Ong was a much respected scientist and lecturer, known not only in Penang but also through the region. It is not often that the death of a retired personality would attract the attention of his former workplace but the University of Science Malaysia (USM) duly released an obituary in his memory recently.

Noting the passing of one of their kind, the University issued an obituary that read: "On 5th August 2021, we lost a prominent scientist who had devoted his whole life to the study of mangrove ecology. After obtaining his PhD from the University of Tasmania in 1970, Professor Ong began his service as one of the earlier batches of academician who joined Universiti Sains Malaysia. During his tenure at the School of Biological Sciences, Professor Ong made outstanding contributions such as assisted in the setting up of the electron microscope lab, founded and led Mangrove Ecosystem Research Group, served on the editorial boards of international journals BIOTROPICA, Asian Marine Biology and Mangroves & Salt-Marshes. He was also an active member of Malaysian National Science Research and Development Council, UN Group of Experts on the Scientific Aspects of Marine Protection (GESAMP) and Malaysian Nature Society. He was best known as the foundational scholar of mangrove study in Malaysia, pioneered in the research of mangrove productivity, nutrient fluxes, carbon sequestration and in his later career, communicated extensively on the links in mangrove and climate change.  Professor Ong’s commitment to science inspired many of his students and his passing has left a big void especially in the mangrovian community. May his soul rest in eternal peace."

The Centre for Marine and Coastal Studies (CEMACS), a USM body which undertakes research focused on biodiversity, mariculture, marine mammal ecology, conservation of marine and coastal forest ecosystems, among others, commented on their own facebook page that "as we mourn for the lost of Prof Dr Ong Jin Eong, we are celebrating his life's work and passion for mangroves."

He was the second CEMACS Director. Although he retired from USM in 1999, he continued playing an active and significant role in research as well as engaging the Centre in forest and mangrove research. From the mid-1970s until his retirement, he led the small but very active Mangrove Ecosystems Research Group at USM whose main long-term aim was to close the carbon and nutrient budgets of a mangrove ecosystem. This Group worked across disciplines, collaborating with scientists around the world and pioneered frontier researches of mangrove ecosystem at that time.

"Among colleagues and peers, he is well-known to be a person and mentor who is very gentle and great kindness. His passion towards the mangrove and willingness to share knowledge have touched the lives of many. His great contributions to the scientific community, university, and society as a whole will be always remembered and cherished. Thank you Professor Ong for everything and rest well," concluded CEMACS.

The chess friend I was referring to at the start of this story is Terry Ong. I've known him since his schooldays at Penang Free School. On facebook, he posted such a moving tribute to remember his father that I feel sufficiently that it must be reproduced here as a testament to a life well lived. I know he won't mind.

My father was one of the pioneering and leading mangrove experts in the world. He was definitely one of a kind, what his colleagues would call a non-conformist, and I suppose what Americans like to term a “maverick”. Someone who would always go against the grain.

My father’s father and both his younger brothers went to school at St Xavier’s, yet my father got on a bicycle and cycled to and from his house in town every day to study at Free School, which was more or less at the “end of the world” at that point as the road didn’t extend past there.

When my father went to study in Australia, travel by air was really expensive, so he went by ship. It was a two- week journey, and he was befriended early on by a chatty priest. Perhaps the priest saw someone who might be receptive to conversion. However, after a few days of theological debates, the priest was duly convinced otherwise and spent his time elsewhere …

He and many of his colleagues at USM chose to take EPF instead of pension because that would allow them to speak their minds freely, without fear of losing their pensions. This seems to be an option that they exercised early and often. He once told me that it took so long for him to be promoted to Associate Professor and Professor because he never bothered to apply for the positions. He was of the mindset that, “If my boss thinks I deserve it, then he should put my name in.”

He contributed to the reports of the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change), which was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2007. Whether this was ever really appreciated by the powers-that-be didn’t matter, because as the feedback from his colleagues, students, and others in the scientific community showed, he and his work were valued by those who matter.

The IPCC shared the Nobel Peace Prize with Al Gore. After I watched Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth, my father told me to watch The Great Global Warming Swindle as well. It’s not that he didn’t believe in climate change (“Of course the climate always changes”), but he believed in scientific accuracy over oversimplified generalisations or political or PR pandering.

So much of the local biology community has been directly or indirectly influenced by my father. Most of my biology teachers in Free School were either taught by or connected with him somehow. I asked him about what he taught about lecturing once. When asked for his profession to fill in for school forms, he would always say “scientist”. This being Malaysia, “scientist” wasn’t always accepted as a profession, so the back-up option would be “lecturer”. I once asked him what he thought about lecturing. He replied, “When your student becomes your boss, that’s when you know it’s time to stop teaching.” I think more than one of his students became his boss. That left me with the impression that he much preferred research and perhaps teaching was just a necessary evil. However, I can see from the many heartfelt and passionate tributes from his students and the many researchers and enthusiasts that he took time to inspire that this clearly was not the case. Tributes to him have shown up almost randomly on the Facebook feeds of my friends as well. He clearly left a huge impression and will be remembered fondly by so many of you. This is a wonderful thing, which we all appreciate deeply.

Swimming runs in the family. My father took me swimming starting from when I was a small kid. I only ever learned the breaststroke though, so perhaps it was good that he never went into coaching. We went swimming at the Penang Swimming Club every Saturday evening and Sunday morning, before Saturday dinners and before Sunday lunches at Jones Road, till I was in Form Five, and then went off to university. We would walk on the beach and rocks as he would look out for interesting plants or animals to point out, and then swim about 20 laps before going back for the family meal. I will always remember these times fondly.

When I was eight, he taught me how chess pieces move on one of those tiny airline magnetic boards. That was the only time I ever saw him play chess, but the lesson stuck and I’ve played ever since.

My father was a swimmer, a King Scout, a scientist and a teacher. An influencer in the true sense of the word. He did not suffer fools, but he was never afraid to say foolish things himself. He smiled and laughed readily and often. The world is a less unique place now, but one brightened by his time in it.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about where atheists go after their time here ends. I’m no closer to knowing, and I’ll never be. But what I do know is wherever that is, that place just became far, far more interesting.

Goodbye, Daddy, we will miss and remember you always.