Malaysia's new historical narratives.

Malaysia needs a new historical narrative that can unite its people of diverse races, Tun Musa Hitam said at the launch of the 60th National History Summit, as was widely reported in the media. I don't think anyone would dispute that. Certainly, history cannot be only about winners and losers. “There is a historical combat in many countries," Tun Musa Hitam further said. I won't say 'many', I'd say every. Every country has historical disputes but, perhaps, none like Malaysia.

Historians regard their job as a science and it should be. However, if only they were not human, nobody paid them, didn't take sides during wars and disputes, have no loyalty, no emotion, no belief system, and are totally and utterly objective. It has been argued that the myth of the battle of Agincourt, the centrepiece of Henry V by William Shakespeare,  boosted the British national confidence, pride and ego to such an extent that it made them the most powerful colonial force in the history of the world, one that even the Roman's couldn't dream of. George Washington's apple tree incident is now disputed. More recently, in India, the Sethu Samudram project was put off because of a Hindu myth; Hanuman and his monkey horde won the court battle against the country's leading geologists and scientists.

In a battle between myth and history, the latter will always lose.

But Malaysia has another problem, one of credibility. People have no confidence in historians because they are assumed to be under the payroll of unseen forces, and therefore blatantly lie. So, no matter what version of history is written, it will be suspect. The main agenda of the 60th National History Summit should have been: How do we clean up the public image of Malaysian historians? Much of it is only perception, and patently untrue. But so what, if people think you are lying?

Everyone in the country wants history to be rewritten. But which version? Theirs. History only becomes accepted and acceptable when we are no longer afraid of the truth. Sure, everyone will call their version the truth, when it is merely a version of a lie. I will give you an example.

I get several customers in the shop who come looking for 'good' history books. One lady asked about one such recommendation, "Does it have Parameswara in it?" I said, "Yes," but I didn't add, "but that's not why it's good." She didn't look like someone who was clever, or non-poitical, enough to understand. For her, a good Malaysian history book must have Parameswara in it because she learnt that in school, or else the government was doing a fiddle.

Would it have made a difference if I had told her that Parameswara may not even been a name but a title, one of the four he had (according to some sources) in the fashion of Hindu rulers of the period? It was often difficult to say where titles ended and names began. Parameswara means the great lord from the words "param" meaning the highest and 'ishwara' meaning supreme being. (Yes, that's the reason many Hindus were sniggering when Proton decided to name a model of their car that.)

That entire problem was probably caused by Tome Pires, the apothecarist from Lisbon. In The Suma Oriental, he named the prince from Palembang, "Paramjcura which means the bravest man in the Palembang Javanese tongue." Why Javanese tongue? In all probability, it was of Indian/Hindu origin. (You can imagine a ruler assuming the role of the Great Lord, can't you?) Tome Pires went further to say that his wife was Paramjcure. Parameswari is the female equivalent, the great goddess, and our own Permaisuri probably comes from there. Winstead appears to have taken off from that, but stretched it a little more by suggesting that he was called Parameswara because he was a commoner who married a princess. Where did he get that? The Andayas' sources appear to have been the same too.

None of the versions of The Malay Annals I have read mention Parameswara. In Sedjarat Melayou translated by Devic and Starkweather, he is King Is Kender Chah. In Leyden's (often called Raffles') version, he is Raja Secander Shah. CC Brown calls him Sultan Iskandar Shah. Iskandar (after Alexander the Great) was the name of choice among many Malay kings. (Interestingly, Skanda is also another name for the South Indian god, Murugan, to put a cat among the pigeons.)

Tome Pires and Richard Winstead, and a host of others, were colonials, not professional historians. They were amateurs, albeit gifted and passionate. (Winstead was a civil servant). But their agenda was clearly colonial, and they made no attempts to hide where their loyalty lay. Their prejudice and lack of knowledge often showed glaringly in their writings. Still, let's not thrash their work summarily, lest we throw out the baby with the bath water. Let's not take their word as gospel either.

We still don't know the truth of many historical events and people, and we may never. A good historian must also be a linguist. However, in Malaysia it's not historical accuracy that is at stake, but credibility. Once a reputation (real or imaginary) for lying and manipulation has been established (and believed), it is difficult to turn it around. Historical errors might be due to plain incompetence, but try telling that to the people who are convinced that you are merely a stooge because you're constantly quoted in the 'wrong' newspapers.

So let the first agenda of the 61st National History Summit be: Rebuilding the credibility and dignity of the Malaysian Historian.

Kerja macam Cina (Work like a Chinese)

Two stories in the media recently made me sit up. First, was a column in the New Straits Times (22 December, 2013) by one Awang Hitam about 'apartheid' in Malaysia, in which the writer accused non-Malay companies control the economy by of refusing entry and employment to Malays. Second, there was a story in The Malaysian Insider (23 December, 2013) about Ku Li's claim that Malays have only themselves to blame for their troubles.

In Abdullah Hussain's Interlok, one of the leading characters is called Cina Panjang (now a Silverfish meme) -- an unscrupulous Chinese shopkeeper who keeps his Malay kampong customers in debt, with the view of taking over their property. A stereotype, no doubt. But think of an entire Malay population that does not read anything fed on this, with the stereotype reinforced over and over in book after book. (I'm certain there are many Cina Panjangs of all races out there in Malaysian and nobody like them, but this Cina Panjang in Interlok had a strong work ethic too.)

Let me tell you four stories:

1. Some time ago, Dina told us this one: Her uncle (or someone like that) was starting a business and asked if she could help find him good hardworking people from amongst her friends. Part of their salaries would be fixed and the rest will be performance based. She asked around and got this response (or something similar): "Ta'ndak lah, kak Dina. Saya ta'mau kerja macam Cina." (No, kak Dina. I don't want to work like a Chinese -- another delicious Malaysian meme.)

2. At a recent stand-up comedy show in PJ, Patrick Teoh reportedly made this crack (I heard this second hand, so please correct me if I'm saying it wrong): "He only looks Chinese. Actually, he's Malay," in defence of his friend's lack of business acumen. (Another meme, no?)

3. This happened several years ago when I was in the government service. I was in the office of another head of department, to seek his help to locate a document. He called in the staff in charge, a young women in her late twenties, to assist me. "Ta'mau, lah, Mr Tan. Saya malas cari." (I don't want to, Mr Tan. I'm too lazy to look for it.) I watched Mr Tan going sheepish, and realised that he was going to just let it go. Was he frightened? Of what? I decided to take charge. "What do you mean you're lazy? Is it not your job?" I snapped at her. The document landed on my desk that afternoon. Still, this is probably the only country in the world where you can tell your boss you're lazy, and get away with it.

4. We had a fairly large order from Taiwan recently, and had to get in touch with about twenty local publishers. Calling and emailing them to get someone to respond was a nightmare enough. Getting some of them to send a proforma invoice was worse. And then, after paying them in cash and in full, persuading them to send us the books (or let us pick them up) was like tooth-extraction with wobbly pliers without anaesthetic, with the patient kicking and screaming as if not willing to part with anything. It took us about four weeks for something that should have been done in four days. (The people in Taiwan must think Malaysians are quite spectacular.)

But seen from another perspective, the situation might become clearer. Many of these publishers are used to selling their entire print-runs (of two or three thousand copies) to the national library or other government departments in one order -- all done, paid in full, no discounts, kow thim. An author, who is published by one of them, who asked if her books will be in bookshops, was told that it was too much work. Leceh.

I guess, with our order, the malas cari syndrome kicked in big-time. What? Look for the books in the warehouse? Who do they think we are? Coolies? Dia orang 'ni suka buat susah, 'ja. (These people are only like to make our lives difficult.) Why work when you can live forever on the gravy?

And the debate about unemployed and unemployable graduates continues. Is it a problem of knowledge and competence, English language or work ethics? Does anyone have the courage to investigate, and give it a name? Turnover cycles are getting shorter and shorter, time is getting more and more critical in business. We simply cannot afford to take four weeks to do a job that needs four days. Maybe that's why others are eating out lunch.

Another two stories (more positive ones, these):

1. I once came in early to the shop (at 8.00am) to finish some work. When I opened the door. I saw Irman in the shop. "You're very early," I said. "No lah, haven't gone home yet," he replied. He  was working on my cover design the night before when I left, worked late into the night, and decided to sleep in the shop because it was too late to go home.

2. I frequently work on the IT aspects of my job over the weekend at home. Sometimes, I'll have get in touch with 'support', normally in the US, where it's night when it's day here, and I am surprised at how quickly they respond. "Don't you guys ever sleep," I sometimes ask (often way past midnight, their time).

Maybe, 'kerja macam Cina', is not so bad.