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.