When a university lecturer recently claimed that the Romans learned shipbuilding from the Malays, it was easy to laugh. The internet did. But beyond the memes and outrage lies a deeper question: why does this kind of claim keep resurfacing? From “the Malays could fly” to “the Malays taught the Chinese,” such assertions point to something more profound than bad history, they reveal a form of collective escapism rooted in insecurity and nostalgia.
The Comfort of Myth
Every society tells stories about its greatness. Myths are not always lies they can be symbols of identity and pride. But when myth replaces truth, it becomes a coping mechanism. For some Malays, invoking the grandeur of the past is a way to feel powerful again in a world where modern achievements are harder to point to.
There is an emotional comfort in imagining that Malay ancestors once ruled the seas, influenced empires, or possessed lost technologies. It is a story that restores dignity without demanding progress. Yet this comfort comes at a cost: it turns the past into a refuge rather than an inspiration.
From Pride to Escapism
Healthy pride celebrates real heritage. The Malays were extraordinary seafarers, navigators, and traders. The Srivijaya and Malacca Sultanates were vibrant centers of knowledge and diplomacy. But pride built on imagination instead of evidence is not pride, it is escapism.
Escapism offers relief from confronting a harsher truth: that despite Malaysia’s resources, many Malays still feel left behind in education, innovation, and global influence. Instead of asking “Why have we fallen behind?” it is easier to say “We were first.” In that sense, myth-making becomes a psychological shield against self-doubt. This phenomenon is not unique to Malays.
Postcolonial societies across Asia and Africa often grapple with what psychologists call the inferiority complex, a lingering wound from centuries of subjugation. When a people feel robbed of their narrative, they sometimes rebuild their pride not through progress but through fantasy.
The Postcolonial Wound
Colonialism did more than exploit economies it redefined self-worth. The British once portrayed the Malay as gentle, obedient, and incapable of leadership, a stereotype that still haunts national consciousness. After independence, there was an urgent need to reclaim dignity. But instead of focusing on empowerment through education, creativity, and critical thinking, some have chosen to reclaim dignity through symbolic superiority.
Hence the rise of pseudo-historical claims: they serve as emotional repairs to a wounded ego. They allow people to feel part of a lost golden age rather than face the uncomfortable present. But as long as we depend on myth for confidence, we avoid building the competence that real confidence requires.
The Real Cost of Escapism
This kind of escapism is not harmless. When universities or public figures endorse it, they dilute academic integrity and undermine genuine scholarship. It sends a dangerous message to the younger generation—that belief is more important than evidence, and pride can be manufactured through storytelling rather than earned through achievement.
It also stifles the kind of intellectual humility that progress demands. A community that cannot question its myths will struggle to innovate. Escapism might soothe the collective ego, but it slowly erodes the ability to confront reality.
Reclaiming Confidence Through Truth
True confidence doesn’t come from grand claims about ancient greatness. It comes from what we do today—how we educate, create, and contribute. There is plenty in the modern Malay world to celebrate: artists who redefine tradition, scientists who push boundaries, social activists who uplift communities, writers who challenge orthodoxy.
These are the people who quietly prove that Malay identity does not need myth to matter. Their achievements are rooted in effort, not fantasy. To move forward, Malays must learn to separate mythic pride from earned pride. The first flatters us the second transforms us.
The Courage to Be Real
When a community starts clinging to myths of flying ancestors or ancient empires that taught the world, it isn’t celebrating history, it’s escaping it. The real test of pride is not how loudly one claims greatness, but how bravely one confronts the present.
The Malays have a rich and complex heritage worth cherishing. But to be truly proud, they must look not backward for validation but forward for creation. Only when the myths are set aside can the real story begin: not of what the Malays were, but of what they can still become.
[ November 2025 ]
