A history professor from one of our universities recently
claimed that it was Malay shipbuilders who taught the Romans how to build
ships. The claim, made, no doubt, to establish Malay prominence in maritime
history, has been met with derision, from historians to the man in the street.
Myth, the critics say, must not be passed off as history.
But the deeper question is not whether such a story is true.
It is why we feel compelled to reach for dubious fragments of the past to prove
racial or national pride, when the present offers us a far more urgent calling.
History, whether glorious or contested, cannot redeem us.
Whatever happened to the Maya Civilisation, the Khmer Empire and the Indus
Valley Civilisation?
Even if Malays did teach shipbuilding to the Romans, why was
that skill not passed down over the centuries to make this a shipbuilding
nation? The original basic structure of the ship is what makes it rule the
waves even today.
In any case, from our perspective today, that achievement
must surely pale beside the challenges that face us today: challenges such as
the plight of the poor, the state of our education, and the divisions that
still fracture our communities. Greatness is not found in the recesses of
history but in the courage to confront the conditions in which we live.
What we should be teaching, even if not to the world, is how
to live together without hostility to our neighbours, and how to be responsible
to those unable to help themselves. The lesson is not about the building of
ships, but about the building of a nation where dignity is shared, diversity is
embraced, and justice is a lived reality.
And let us not forget the irony: ships have not only carried
knowledge and trade, but also colonisers who plundered our lands. If we did
indeed teach the Romans to build ships, it is a lesson history must teach us to
regret.
Ships have been a burden on this country for another reason.
From the Scorpene submarine deal to the Littoral Combat Ship fiasco, vessels
intended to protect our sovereignty have become symbols of corruption and
treachery. These are not ships of honour, but ships of shame.
What the good professor and our universities must do is to
build a ship to keep afloat the hopes and potential of a people—a ship that
will last longer than the destructive galleons and will not fall prey to the
corruption of transactions. It is such a ship that will glorify the nation and
all its people. That is the vessel we must build together: strong enough to
weather storms, generous enough to carry all, and enduring enough to outlast the
myths of history.
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