Historians want to protect their rice bowl, Khairy

 

It is disingenuous of Khairy Jamaluddin to criticise Malaysian historians and experts as “cowardly professors” who refuse to speak out while misinformation about the nation’s past continues to spread.

It is always easier when the narrative becomes uncomfortable to blame those who describe it rather than those who shaped its boundaries.

The former minister’s outburst fits neatly into a familiar political reflex, that confusion in public understanding must be the fault of those who failed to speak loudly enough. This framing is too convenient, and it mistakes the symptom for the system.

So, why is Khairy focusing on the silence of historians, instead of the political environment that shaped what could be safely said in the first place?

The core issue is not academic courage; it is political history.

Malaysia’s post-independence nation-building project, especially during the strong Umno era, was deeply shaped by affirmative action policies and the ideological framing of “Ketuanan Melayu” (Malay supremacy) as a central pillar of state identity and political legitimacy.

Our history was never written in a vacuum of pure academic curiosity because it has always existed inside this larger political architecture. These discriminatory policies were further reinforced through the Biro Tata Negara (BTN or National Civics Bureau).

Khairy was possibly referring to International Islamic University Malaysia (IIUM) academic Solehah Yaacob, whose claims about ancient Romans learning about shipbuilding from the Malays made Malaysia a laughing stock, yet again.

She is not the only lecturer to distort early Malayan history. Even once respected historians have been known to “jaga periuk nasi” (guarding one’s rice pot) and toe the official line.

Challenging narratives

I once attended a lecture in Ipoh in 2011, called “Peristiwa Bukit Kepong, Siapa Wira Sebenar?” (Bukit Kepong Incident, who were the real heroes?)

Two of the speakers were former police chief Haniff Omar and historian Khoo Kay Kim, who said Malaya was never colonised by the British. The audience stared dumbfounded, but few dared to counter them. A majority of the audience were police officers and members of the security forces.

Historian Khoo Kay Kim

Khoo’s comments did not go unnoticed because his former student, Rachel Leow, wrote him an open letter, which went viral. She was a PhD student at Cambridge, and she dared to correct him.

Umno policies of the 1980s-1990s shaped institutional behaviour. Public narratives were tightly controlled. Some were encouraged, others were treated cautiously, and those that generated controversy were banned. Self-censorship and silence became the new norm.

So when people ask why historians appear silent or restrained, the answer they give is not just fear. It is also because of structure.

Post 1969, the political atmosphere punished perceived challenges to sensitive identity frameworks. In time, institutions naturally learned to operate carefully within those boundaries. Public history then took shape.

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Non-Malay erasure

Take Kuala Lumpur.

Critics claim that Yap Ah Loy, one of the key founders of modern Kuala Lumpur, has been reduced to little more than a passing mention in school narratives.

The parents who complained about this distortion of our early history say this is not about one missing name. They worry about how stories get flattened over time.

The narrative promoted by some Umno leaders five decades ago was that non-Malays were relatively recent arrivals to the country, having come only within the last 200 years.

Critics argue that this framing ignored the much older presence of Chinese and Indian communities in the Malay peninsula as miners, traders, and spice merchants who arrived through the monsoon trade networks centuries earlier.

Yap Ah Loy

Then there is the deeper past.

Sites such as Bujang Valley in Kedah reflect a long archaeological history of trade, industry, settlement, and Hindu-Buddhist cultural influence in early Southeast Asia.

Had this heritage been more fully preserved and allowed to flourish, with its many artefacts and ancient structures protected, Malaysia might today rival historical treasures such as Angkor Wat in Cambodia or Borobudur in Indonesia.

To many observers, the lack of urgency in preserving these sites gave the impression that the authorities preferred not to draw too much attention to the country’s non-Islamic historical roots.

Furthermore, the Orang Asli are the original settlers of Malaya, but they remain as a mere footnote in history books.

Inheriting an environment of caution

What many parents and some teachers describe to me is not a conspiracy. It is a caution. Certain historical topics, especially those touching on identity, origin narratives, or competing interpretations of early civilisation, may not be discussed freely in institutional settings.

Not because it is formally forbidden, but because, over time, a culture develops where stepping too far outside accepted framing feels risky, unnecessary, or professionally unwise.

Khairy may have criticised historians, but academic caution is not the root problem. This pattern of silence among experts is not unique to history.

In mining, industry, and engineering, warnings about hill development, slope stability, radiation, and ecological risks are often raised early, and without drama.

Yet, those warnings frequently gain public attention only after a disaster forces visibility.

Then the same questions return: who knew, who warned, and why was it not acted on sooner?

The issue is not simply “cowardly professors”. That framing is too easy. It shifts attention away from the longer political and institutional history that shaped what could be safely said, and what could not.

Historians did not design that environment. They inherited it.

And when political actors now express frustration at historical confusion, the harder question is not why some academics are quiet, but how the boundaries of acceptable speech were formed in the first place, and by whom.

History is not only written in books.

It is shaped by political frameworks, institutional incentives, and the long shadow of national narratives, including “Ketuanan Melayu” as a defining feature of Malaysia’s post-independence political architecture. - Mkini

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MARIAM MOKHTAR is a defender of the truth, the admiral-general of the Green Bean Army, and the president of the Perak Liberation Organisation (PLO). Blog, X.

The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of MMKtT.