Enrique de Malacca/Maluku: Another Chapter in the Indonesia–Malaysia Heritage War?

Abstract

Magellan's Malay slave, Enrique, accompanied him on his voyages and may have actually been the first to circumnavigate the world. This paper examines the extent to which the still sporadic and small-scale — but sometimes fierce — online disputes between Indonesian and Malaysian netizens over the “ownership” and “national” origin of Enrique might develop further as part of the long-standing “heritage war” between the two countries. It explains the historical roots of the dispute over Enrique, discusses reactions to it in Indonesia and, to an extent, in Malaysia, and analyses the coverage of and exchanges about Enrique on social media. Set against the backdrop of Lebow's constructivist cultural theory, this paper posits that the mutually reactive national identification process between Indonesians and Malaysians might significantly influence the trajectory of this conflict. If efforts in Indonesia to promote the idea of Enrique Maluku succeed and it becomes truly widely known, what are currently small and irregular skirmishes online over Enrique could develop into another enduring segment of the heritage war between the two countries.

Introduction

Memories of the “heritage war” between Indonesia and Malaysia that peaked in 2009–2010 are still fresh in the minds of many. The roots of the conflict can be traced to the arbitrary drawing of national boundaries between the countries during the colonial era and the political tensions that developed during their formative decades, especially the Konfrontasi in the 1960s (Budiawan 2017; Clark and Pietsch 2014; Liow 2005). However, the Discovery Channel's promotional video and programme on Malaysia's tourism in 2009 triggered this particular episode. Featuring Pendet, a Balinese dance, the video sparked an uproar in Indonesia, with Indonesians viewing it as yet another example of Malaysia “stealing” their cultural heritage (Chong 2012; Ali Maksum and Baksum 2014). The programme's debut set off violent anti-Malaysia protests, and there were even calls for war to crush Malaysia (Belford 2009). Debates in 2007 over the “ownership” of a particular batik motif, gamelan, angklung, wayang kulit, and the folk song “Rasa Sayange”, which was used in an advertisement to promote Malaysian tourism, preluded this conflict (Lai and Karulus 2019; Reuters 2007).¹ The other cultural artefacts that were disputed included keris (ceremonial dagger), Reog Ponogoro (dance), aspects of language (Bahasa Indonesia/Malaysia), national anthems, and food such as rendang (stew), satay (skewered grilled meat), and nasi goreng (fried rice) (Chong 2012; Clark 2013; Lai and Karulus 2019; Lee 2016; Marks 2011).

Given the region's broadly shared cultural and historical traditions, often called Nusantara or the Malay World, this battle over the origins or ownership of heritage may strike outside observers as comical. It is, however, symptomatic of serious cultural conflicts not uncommon in various parts of the world, including Southeast Asia. Defined as “domestic, inter-state or transnational political conflicts in which the actors involved focus on issues relating to religion, language and/or historicity” (Croissant and Trinn 2009: 13), cultural conflicts may be underpinned by more serious issues. In the cases of Indonesia and Malaysia, the broader, long-standing, and deeply historical — as well as contemporary — issues between the two neighbours fuel the recurrent tensions (Clark and Pietsch 2014; Liow 2005). While they share so much because of centuries of overlapping cultural and historical development, which is captured evocatively by the subtitle of Liow's (2005) book, The Politics of Indonesia-Malaysia Relations: One Kin, Two Nations, their history since the 1960s has been fraught with ideological, territorial, labour, environmental, sport, and heritage disputes (Budiawan 2017; Butcher 2013; Clark and Pietsch 2014; Fakih 2017; Rochyadi-Reetz et al. 2020). The relationship between the two countries has been volatile and tenuously managed, and the “heritage war” is but one of the various areas in which open expressions of this conflict recur.

In a comprehensive, large-n study of conflicts in Asia, Croissant and Trinn (2009: 40) identify Southeast Asia as “subject to a disproportionally large number of cultural conflicts”. These are predominantly domestic and history-related conflicts, and in only a few cases have they spilled over to cause inter-state or transnational problems (Croissant and Trinn 2009). The heritage war between Indonesia and Malaysia is an example of the latter. The intense people-to-people open conflicts that accompanied these disputes in 2009–2010 have impacted the two countries’ inter-state relationship.

Chong Jinn Winn (2012) offers an interesting explanation for certain aspects of the conflict, as well as the reactions of Indonesians and Malaysians to each other. She refers to an observation made by Ali Alatas about the arrogance of Malaysians and the jealousy of Indonesians (Asia New Channel 2010, as cited in Chong 2012: 27), which harks back to the disparity in the economic development of the two countries. Indonesians’ intense reactions are often ridiculed by bewildered Malaysians as irrational and baseless, which further infuriates Indonesians who take Malaysians’ dismissive attitude as arrogant or condescending. Chong links the two sides’ different attitudes towards heritage protection to the contrasting trajectories of the development of their national identities and economies. Indonesia's immense diversity has generated frenetic and concerted efforts among political elites to create an “overarching uni-national identity” (Chong 2012: 21), resulting in cultural heritage being elevated as “the core of the Indonesian people's collective identity” (Chong 2012: 22). On the other hand, Malaysia's sustained and rapid economic development since the 1990s considerably expanded the middle and upper classes who have adopted a global outlook and whose attitudes towards cultural heritage are, echoing Lindsay (1995), shaped by “economic interests, entertainment, and community activity” (Chong 2012: 24). Cultural heritage, so Chong claims, is “arguably rarely held out as a core and immutable essence of the people's (Malaysians’) identity” (Chong 2012: 24). Chong contends that “[t]he centrality of a people's heritage to their worldview and identity unquestionably influences the extent to which they would feel compelled to defend and protect such heritage” (Chong 2012: 24). She axiomatically puts it thus: “the more fundamental the heritage is to the core of a people's identity, the more aggressively they would defend and protect such heritage in order to safeguard their identity” (Chong 2012: 24).

Richard Ned Lebow, a leading constructivist political theorist, is critical of the notion of identity, be it on the individual or national level (Lebow 2012, 2016). True to the relational, non-essentialist, and ontologically insecure approach to identity, he opts for a process-oriented notion of identification, a dependent rather than independent variable. Drawing on Lebow's (2008) critique of identity and his cultural theory — which posits the primacy of spirit or self-esteem, more than appetite, reason, and fear, as a driver of political behaviour — Chong's hypothesis may be revised to foreground the role of the spirit or esteem in heritage protection and the conflict that ensues from it. Rather than “safeguarding identity”, which assumes identity is already formed, Lebow's analytic approach takes identity as continually in the process of being formed, making it a result, not the cause, of spirit-driven heritage-protection behaviour. Nationalism or national identity involves elements of esteem or pride but it is within the realm of abstraction that obscures the otherwise clear roles of agents. Focusing on actors with complex motivations and possibly multiple, fluid selves, this type of analysis promises to be more dynamic and process oriented than deterministic. Arguably, this approach is more suitable for cases that are subject to the vagaries of shifting conditions, like Enrique's.

Chong's explanation seems to apply well to disputes involving claims by Malaysians over cultural artefacts which Indonesians have a strong basis to claim as their own. These include batik, Pendet dance, and the song “Rasa Sayange”, among others, but what if it is the reverse and Malaysians have a stronger or more established case and Indonesia is one that is staking a claim? Enrique is a good test case. He is long known not just in Malaysia but around the world as a native of Malacca. In recent years, however, an increasing number of Indonesians have come to believe that he may have originated from Maluku (Moluccas). In particular, celebration of the 500th anniversary of the Magellan–Elcano expedition (1519–1522) fuelled renewed interest in Enrique. His importance and fame rest on the possibility that he, rather than Magellan or Elcano, may have been the first to circumnavigate the world.

Background

Enrique was the name given to a Malay who became Magellan's slave after his capture by the Portuguese in Malacca, possibly in 1511 — hence the appellation Enrique de Malacca. Enrique joined Magellan on his voyage back to Europe via India and Africa, as well as to Morocco in a campaign against the Moors. He was also part of the famous expedition, the Armada de Molluca, that sailed in 1519 to find the spice islands of the Moluccas by taking a westward, across-Pacific route. This voyage accidentally reached the Philippines in March–April 1521, which is where Magellan met his death at the hands of native warriors under the chieftain Lapu-Lapu. The place where Magellan died, Mactan, was still over 2000 km away from Malacca. Sebastian Elcano completed the circumnavigation upon his return to Spain over a year later in September 1522. The belief, based on a fictional account, that Enrique returned to Malacca not long after staying in Cebu supposedly made him the rightful claimant of the honour as the first to circumnavigate the world. Renamed Panglima Awang in a similarly titled Malay novel by Harun Aminurrashid (1958), Enrique has lived on in the Malaysian national imagination as a source of national pride.

Enrique's origins were not disputed until the 1980s, when a popular historian in the Philippines, Carlos Quirino, put forward a theory that Enrique may have originated from Cebu, not Malacca (Quirino 1991; Quirino et al. 1980). Thus, the claim that the first circumnavigator of the world may have been Filipino electrified many Filipinos (e.g. Compadre Damaso 2021; Flores 2015; Ocampo 2019). This theory has gained traction in the Philippines and beyond, particularly since the 1990s, when it inspired the writing of a well-known novel by renowned national artist F. Sionil Jose (1993), Viajero, and a biographical novel entitled Enrique el Negro (Pacis 2002). It also yielded a documentary film that took about four decades to complete, Kidlat Tahimik's Balikbayan series (Small 2019). Critics have convincingly debunked Quirino's claims (e.g. Couttie 2021) but many remain enthralled by the idea. Forums, blog pages, newspaper columns, and social media witnessed disputatious discussion on this claim.² In a separate paper, a colleague and I discuss these points in detail.

For a long time, Indonesians appeared disinterested in this issue, but not because Enrique and his exploits were totally unknown in Indonesia. In 1956, a Medan-based newspaper, Waspada, published an article that boldly claimed that the first circumnavigator of the world was Indonesian (“Pengeliling Dunia Pertama adalah Seorang Indonesia”) (Mohd Said 1956, as cited in Mawar Shafei 2006). But it seems no one in Indonesia paid much attention or cared to do anything about it. The Singapore-based Malay writer, Harun Aminurrashid, was inspired by the information and used the idea as the lynchpin of his novel Panglima Awang (1958). Despite the extremely limited availability of historical sources on Enrique — so limited that one can summarise them in a single paragraph — Harun produced a coherent and comprehensive life story that is rich in imaginative details. Its impact in Malaysia proved enduring (Nazmi Yaakub 2017), and it single-handedly crystalized among Malaysians the idea that it was a Malay from Malacca who first circumnavigated the world. Practically everything that is known by most Malaysians about Enrique can be traced to the details provided in this novel, as evident in commentaries on social media and other online forums. The fictional nature of the novel was easily forgotten as people took it as a factual representation of a historical figure, as demonstrated in the academic research being planned or pursued by some Malaysian scholars about Enrique's supposed exemplary qualities and navigational skills and the search for his purported graveyard in Rembau (Syazwan Msar 2018; Fairuz Zaidan 2016).

The long-standing silence from the Indonesian side is perplexing. From a strictly historical standpoint, among the three countries, present-day Indonesia arguably has the strongest claim to Enrique as its native son, as I shall discuss below. Things began to change with the appearance of an article in the readers’ forum of Jakarta Post in 2010 (as cited in Yahya and Tawas 2014: 183, 211–213). Written by Reinhard Tawas, this article explained that the first circumnavigator of the world was an Indonesian, and he hailed from Maluku/Moluccas, rather than Sumatra, Malacca, or Cebu. This idea was developed further in a book entitled Enrique Maluku (Yahya and Tawas 2014). Developments made since 2019 indicate this claim seems to be gathering steam. Other than plans for a documentary and a movie, a novel on Enrique is currently being written in three languages, Bahasa Indonesia, English, and French (Personal communication with Reinhard Tawas 2022). An increasing number of Indonesians have begun pushing for Enrique Maluku's recognition. Consequently, acrimonious disputes have begun cropping up online between Indonesians and Malaysian netizens since 2019.

Assessing the chances that what are currently limited and sporadic disputes could further develop into another chapter in the heritage war between the two countries is the focus of this paper. Specifically, it seeks to answer the following questions: (1) What are the historical bases of the disputes over the origin of Enrique? (2) How and why did the idea that Enrique was from Maluku (or Moluccas) develop in Indonesia, and how has it been received so far both in Indonesia and Malaysia? (3) What are the chances that the dispute over Enrique could develop further to become a permanent fixture in the broader heritage war between the two countries? I argue that given the deep-seated and long-standing tensions between Malaysians and Indonesians, who are equally protective of their national pride, the trajectory of this dispute points to the possibility that it may become part of the long-standing heritage war between the two countries, but that also depends significantly on the continued success of the propagation of information about Enrique in Indonesia.

The empirical data showing clashes over Enrique were gathered from posts and comments on Facebook, YouTube, and Twitter. These are among the most widely used social media platforms in Southeast Asia, according to Statista, a reputable aggregator of statistical data. Sources derived from social media are valuable for their quantity, variety, accessibility, candidness, and currency, but they also pose methodological challenges (Sloan and Quan-Haase 2017). The volume of data is the first major challenge. However, since the dispute over Enrique between Indonesia and Malaysia is still relatively new and has so far captured only limited attention in both countries, the amount of relevant data is still manageable. No sophisticated data mining app was needed for this study because the simple search, copy-pasting, and sorting that I did in the three platforms sufficed to identify possibly all sites that discuss Enrique Maluku. The built-in sampling bias in social media data is another challenge. Since people with higher education and income tend to dominate online exchanges, much of the social media data reflect their views (Hargittai 2015, 2020). Also, the self-selected character of participants that form online communities around certain issues, such as national “ownership” of Enrique, limits the representativeness of the data to the vocal and invested segment of social media users. Whether they represent the broader population's opinions cannot be assumed. This is a valid concern that needs to be factored into the analysis. Finally, establishing the social context of digital data and who would be accountable for them — both of which are doable but not easy with authored conventional data — is more challenging to do for social media data, which are replete with anonymity, volatility and transience. The huge number of widely dispersed participants possibly includes bots, paid trolls, or fake accounts, making it difficult to establish the veracity of participants’ identities and backgrounds and the authenticity of their views. Whether commenters are Indonesian or Malaysian, for example, cannot always be ascertained, but since the size of the data set for this study was still manageable, I was able to take a look at the profiles of individual participants whose views I used as part of the pool of evidence and trace their comments to establish their nationality.

Historical Basis

Historical evidence of Enrique is extremely limited. In Pigafetta's detailed and first-hand account of the voyage, which is the most authoritative source (Torodash 1971: 323), Enrique, or anRyk, was mentioned by name only once (Pigafetta/Stanley 2010 [1874]: 103). He was referred to as a “slave” or as “Magellan's slave” in all other instances in which he figured in the account, which added up to around half a dozen (Pigafetta/Stanley 2010 [1874]: 76, 103). The time period during which he appeared in Pigafetta's account is limited to the span of 35 days, from when they reached Mazaua on 28 March 1521 (where they encountered natives with whom, to Enrique's surprise and Magellan's delight, he could converse) until the massacre in Cebu on 1 May 1521, when over two dozens of Magellan's remaining men may have perished. After the massacre, Enrique vanishes from the pages of first-hand recorded history. After this episode, the only other times that he is mentioned are in the official report submitted in 1522, which included him in the list of those who died in the massacre, and in 1523, when Maximilianus Transylvanus's oral history of the voyage was published as De Moluccis Insulis, which I shall discuss further below. Both instances are secondary, or at best hearsay, accounts. One may argue, therefore, that any information about him and his activities outside this period are conjectures or inferences. Support for them vary from reasonable supposition to imaginative speculation and downright inventions, so several questions may be raised. For example, from where did he actually originate? Where and when was he born? What was he doing in Malacca? How did he meet Magellan? Why and when did Magellan bring him to Europe? What exactly was the nature of his relationship with Magellan? What was Enrique like as a person? What exactly happened with him in Lisbon and in other places he travelled to with Magellan? Had he in fact co-plotted with Humabon to kill several of Magellan's men? What happened to him after the massacre? Historical evidence cannot answer these basic questions. Notwithstanding the lack of evidence, writers and scholars in Malaysia, Philippines, and lately Indonesia, as well, have provided detailed accounts of his life, and even accounts of his supposed son's life (e.g. Anak Panglima Awang, Harun Aminurrashid (1961).

The widely accepted appellation Enrique de Malacca points to the commonly held belief that Enrique was from Malacca. This understanding is primarily based on Magellan's last will and testament, drawn up in 1519, which specified that Enrique was a native of Malacca.

And by this my present will and testament, I declare and ordain as free and quit of every obligation of captivity, subjection, and slavery, my captured slave Enrique, mulatto, native of the city of Malacca , of the age of twenty-six years more or less, that from the day of my death thenceforward forever the said Enrique may be free and manumitted, and quit, exempt, and relieved of every obligation of slavery and subjection, that he may act as he desires and thinks fit; and I desire that of my estate there may be given to the said Enrique the sum of ten thousand maravedis in money for his support; and this manumission I grant because he is a Christian, and that he may pray to God for my soul.³ (emphasis added).

What appears to be an otherwise straightforward and factual statement above is complicated by Pigafetta's account, which explicitly claims that Enrique originated from Sumatra (Pigafetta/Stanley 2010 [1874]: 76). Determining which of these contrasting claims carries more weight as historical evidence entails a thorough internal and external historical criticism of the two sources, which cannot be done here. Suffice it to note that given Pigafetta's demonstrated intellectual rigour and penchant for details, and the fact that it was likely he conversed frequently with and worked closely with Enrique in, say, producing a list of over 400 Malay words over 18 months of voyaging together, his claim that Enrique was in fact from Sumatra cannot be dismissed. Sumatra's proximity, divided from Malacca only by a narrow strait, combined with the long tradition of rantau or migration from Sumatra to the peninsula, make Pigafetta's claim very plausible. As an entrepot that was well known in the region and beyond, many people from various places converged in Malacca, and his capture there by the Portuguese did not necessarily mean that he was a native of Malacca.

The novelist Harun Aminurrashid took this as a possibility when he wrote that Enrique was from Sumatra. As already noted, Indonesians have failed to follow Pigafetta's and Harun Aminurrashid's lead when it comes to Enrique's origins. Those who care about this matter have favoured the claim that Enrique was from the Moluccas or Maluku, the spice islands, some 3000 km to the east. The popular history book Enrique Maluku, written by two non-historians, Helmy Yahya and Reinhard Tawas (2014), rests its foundational claim on Maximilianus Transylvanus's De Moluccis Insulis (1523). This document was originally written as a long letter to a high-ranking cardinal who was keen to know what happened during the voyage. It was based on the oral testimonies of 17 (apparently excluding Pigafetta) survivors of the expedition. Its importance rests in the alternative viewpoint — from the participants’ perspective — it provided as supplementary or complementary to Pigafetta's and others’ accounts. More importantly, it shaped Europeans’ understanding of the voyage more so than Pigafetta's account did, as it was published earlier (in 1523) than Pigafetta's and circulated more rapidly and widely in various places in Europe (Vagnon 2019). An abridged version of Pigafetta's account was published in France in 1525, but it had limited circulation, and it was not until 1800 that the more comprehensive edition, called the Amoretti translation, appeared (Torodash 1971).

The most crucial passage in De Moluccis Insulis, which was appropriated by Yahya and Tawas as the main basis of the claim of Enrique's Moluccan origins is this:

Magellan had a slave, born in the Moluccas, whom he had bought in Malacca some time back; this man was a perfect master of the Spanish language, and, with the assistance of one of the islanders of Subuth as interpreter, who knew the language of the Moluccas, our men managed all their communications. (Stanley 2010 [1874]: 200, emphasis added)

It is remarkable that Maximilianus captured these details from the oral testimonies of the survivors of the expedition. The parallel version written by Peter Martyr, which was based on the same set of oral testimonies used by Maximilianus and formed part of the fifth-decade account in his well-known book De Orbe Novo – The Eight Decades of Peter Martyr D'Angheran, did not even mention Magellan had a slave (MacNutt 1912: 158–160). This raises the speculative question of how could the survivors have thought Enrique was born in the Moluccas or Maluku? How could it have stuck in their minds that there was an interpreter in Subuth (Cebu) who knew “the language of the Moluccas?” Among those who survived and were interviewed were Elcano and Albo, both of whom were very knowledgeable about the expedition. I highlight these points because details like these lend the source an air of credibility, which probably explains at least partly why Yahya and Tawas strongly relied on it as the basis for their claim.

The other evidence highlighted by Yahya and Tawas came from Magellan's last will and testament, as quoted above. That document described Enrique as “mulatto”, which meant mestizo or hybrid, a child of white and black parents. Whether Magellan used the term to include dark skin as among Enrique's features cannot be ascertained, but Yahya and Tawas made the Enrique's supposed Melanesian features as the basis for the claim that he was from Maluku. According to them, Sumatrans, Malays, and Filipinos do not have skin as dark as people in Maluku to qualify them as “mulatto”. Therefore, Enrique must have been from Maluku (Yahya and Tawas 2014: 208). They also emphasized the supposed linguistic evidence — several supposedly Moluccan words found in the list made by Pigafetta — but this seems to be the least convincing given the evolving Malay as a lingua franca in the vast maritime area of Southeast Asia during that time.

Against this backdrop, Malaysia's long-standing claim to “ownership” of Enrique was viewed by HelmyYahya and Tawas as part of the lingering tussle between the two countries. In their words⁴ (my translation):

For so long, we are on the defensive in relation to Malaysia's claim to our heritage. Even if it is true that we started to claim Hang Tuah as part of our culture, it is not wrong that Sumatra, which is part of Indonesia, regards Hang Tuah as one of its own. It should not surprise, for example, that in Jakarta there is a street called Hang Tuah. (Yahya and Tawas 2014: 114)

Enrique Maluku (or Awang Panglima as they call him) can tip the balance in our favour and trump Malaysia's claim over our cultural icons (batik, the song “Rasa Sayange”, reog Ponorogo, wayang kulit, kuda lumping, rendang padang, keris, angklung, pendet and piring dances, and gamelan). Enrique Maluku reinforces the divide between “us” and “them” (emphasis original in English) and it can serve as a “knockout” punch for it cannot be denied with seventeen survivors (of the Magellan-Elcano expedition) interviewed by Maximilianus Transylvanus attesting that Enrique was a native of Maluku…. Enrique Maluku also provides solace in our dispute with Malaysia over Sipadan and Ligitan. While it was painful, it was not a real loss for us according to Yusril Ihza Mahendra. (Yahya and Tawas 2014: 190)

These passages are telling. They frame their claim to Enrique Maluku within the broader dispute with Malaysia, not just on heritage and territorial issues but in an even more encompassing divide between “us” and “them”. They are convinced of the certainty of their claims about Enrique that it could deliver a knockout punch (“pukulan knockout”) to end the contest with Malaysia once and for all. Their admission of being on the “defensive in relation to Malaysia's claim to our heritage” provides a clear subtext for the whole effort to push for the claim of Enrique being Indonesian and from Maluku. In the closing chapter of their book (Chapter 11, 215–221), they discuss heroes and heroism using well-known figures in Western history (like Alexander the Great and Charlemagne) as illustrative examples. They end the chapter, and the book, on an emphatic note: “If Malaysia considers Panglima Awang as their hero, there is nothing wrong if we make Enrique Maluku our own hero. It is for this reason that this book was written” (Yahya and Tawas 2014: 221).

Reception of the Idea of Enrique Maluku in Indonesia

The publication of the book Enrique Maluku in October 2014 inspired tweets by some notable entities like Kompas, Detik.com, National Geographic Indonesia, and Historia.id, among others. Between then and June 2015, there were over two hundred tweets with hashtag #EnriqueMaluku, which seems to suggest that to book generated a notable level of buzz.⁵ The book launch in Ambon on 26 January 2015 had the then Minister of Education and Culture Anies Baswedan as a special guest, along with the governor of the province.⁶ At the said event, two Maluku scholars (whose names were not specified) reportedly shared their thoughts on the book, but unfortunately the newspaper reports did not include what they said. This rather high-profile event points to the level of importance accorded to the book and its main claim. Then governor of the province of Maluku, Said Assagaff, subsequently made the book a required reading in schools. According to one of the authors, Reindhart Tawas, the governor of Maluku bought all the printed books of the second edition (online forum, 12 September 2021). Within the first few months of the book's release, it had caught the attention of both provincial and national press and was mentioned on talk shows such as the Tonight Show (Indonesian edition),⁷ Ini Talk Show, and also Delta Fm. Koran Sindo devoted a whole page to an interview with Helmy Yahya about the book in its 6 November issue. National |Geographic Indonesia (2015) printed a brief article about it in the 24 November 2015 issue of the prestigious magazine. In short, the book was well-publicized.

The idea that Enrique was from Maluku and that he may be the first circumnavigator of the world seemed totally new to the Indonesian public. Google Trends, which tracks through time the frequency of use of particular keywords in the Google search engine, shows that before October 2014, no one had searched for Enrique Maluku (see Figure 1). The name or the idea behind it was virtually non-existent. A newspaper expressed surprise how could it take almost 500 years before Enrique Maluku was known, and hinted that efforts to keep it a secret may have been deliberate (Eka Dinayanti 2015). Several Indonesian commenters on Facebook, for example, admitted they had not even heard of Enrique.⁸ It was only after October 2014 that it became a keyword of interest, and 100 per cent of the searches originated in Indonesia (see Figure 2).

Figure 1. Enrique Maluku as a Search Word

Source: Google Trends, https://trends.google.com/trends/explore?date=2013-10-04%202021-11-04&q=Enrique%20Maluku. (accessed on 15 May 2021)

Figure 2. Enrique Maluku vs Enrique of Malacca vs Panglima Awang

Source: Google Trends, https://trends.google.com/trends/explore?date=2013-10-04%202021-11-04&q=Enrique%20Maluku,%2Fm%2F03vpb0,Panglima%20Awang. (accessed on 15 May 2021)

With its sensational claim emblazoned on the cover, the book initially received a moderately enthusiastic response, with 79 Google searches in October 2014. It peaked in November 2014 at 100, which is the cap set by Google Trends (free version). It is possible that the number of actual searches exceeded this threshold. The initial excitement stirred by the book in 2014 that lasted until mid-2015 was not sustained, however. Between June 2015 and the end of 2018, there were only three tweets about Enrique Maluku. For the same period, no YouTube videos on Enrique Maluku were uploaded, except for a reposting of Helmy Yahya's interview on the Tonight Show in October 2014. A search of publicly accessible posts on Facebook revealed only one post on Enrique Maluku within this period, on 22 February 2018. A Netherlands-based Indonesian posted a link to a Dutch online magazine, Tifamagazine.com, and only three people reacted to the post. The overall public reception in Indonesia and beyond from mid-2015 to the end of 2018 was tepid. Despite its potential, the name Enrique Maluku and the idea behind it did not go viral, so to speak.

The novelty and apparent grandiosity of the claim may have prompted many not to take it seriously. Unlike Malaysians and Filipinos, who have had for several decades a familiarity with Enrique and their respective country's claim to him, Indonesians seemed unaware of Enrique Maluku until the book Enrique Maluku was published in October 2014. Comments on various posts on social media platforms evince surprise and incredulity about the massive claim. It appears that many ignored it as fake news or viewed it as a hoax,⁹ and a lack of published materials that specifically bear the name Enrique Maluku may be an important factor contributing to this disbelief. One commenter on YouTube expressed doubt about the claim's validity precisely because he could hardly find anything written about Enrique Maluku.¹⁰

Another factor may relate to the backgrounds of the authors. Helmy Yahya and Reinhard Tawas are known public or media personalities. HelmyYahya is both a politician and a YouTuber with a sizeable number of subscribers, reaching almost a million. They are both passionate about history but have no known training in writing and researching it. If they were professionally trained historians, the scholarly community and the general public might have taken their claims more seriously. That the book has been downplayed, if not totally ignored, by the intelligentsia can be inferred from the absence of a scholarly review of the book in either an academic journal or a newspaper. It is fairly common among Indonesian newspapers to feature reviews or discussions of books regarded as important. Excepting the online discussion organized on 12 September 2021 by Himpunan Penulis Indonesia (Indonesia's Writers Guild), about which I shall discuss below, no serious public discussion of the book took place among intellectuals.

It is also relevant to note that the first edition that came out in 2014 seemed to have been rushed or haphazardly prepared by the publisher. The authors regretted, for example, that rather than their preferred cover (which appeared in their tweet on 4 June 2014), what came out in the cover of the first edition was portrayed Enrique dressed liked a Caribbean pirate (online forum 12 September 2021).

Things began to change perceptibly in 2019. Figure 1 above shows that between April 2015 and December 2018, searches using Enrique Maluku as a keyword had only taken place in a few months, but from February 2019, more searches on Enrique were registered. YouTube and Facebook provide clearer proof of this. Lengthy and disputatious posts about Enrique Maluku have appeared since 2019, as discussed below.

Signs of Tension

Given how long it was held, how widespread, and how deep-seated Malaysians’ belief that Enrique was from Malacca — and thus “one of their own” — it was just a matter of time before clashes over Enrique would begin. The National Geographic (Indonesia edition) article mentioned above noted signs of brewing tensions over this issue. The governor of Maluku province, Said Assagaff, expressed regret that Malaysia had pushed back against the claims regarding Enrique's Moluccan origins¹¹ (National Geographic Indonesia 2015). Although he did not specify the details, it served as a portent of what was to come.

After over three years of silence on Enrique Maluku, the earliest YouTube video that specifically discussed Enrique Maluku came out on 16 April 2019. Following Yahya and Tawas's book, the brief video clip boldly asserted that it was not Magellan but Enrique who was the first circumnavigator of the world and that he originated from Maluku.¹² In response to one who opposed the idea, a commenter said rather sarcastically, “Malaysia is good at claiming what Indonesia owns”¹³ and mistakenly asserted that Malacca originated from Maluku. Quickly it elicited a derisive response: “Indonesians despite being stupid always want to win!” Then another commenter shot back, saying “Everyone knows that Malaysia loves to arrogate upon itself (tukang klaim) what is Indonesia's”, then enumerated in block letters: “BATIK, KERIS, REOG PONOROGO, TARI PENDET, then before that RASA SAYANGE”.¹⁴ This comment clearly harks back to what had happened in the past decade when the two countries were locked in a bitter dispute over their shared heritage.

Also reminiscent of those tension-filled years was the exchange of insulting epithets like Malingsia (Malaysia is a thief), Malingsial (Damn the thief Malaysia!), Indonesial or Indonesialan (Damn Indonesia), Indognesialan (Indonesia is a damned dog!). Malingsial and Indonesial were used twice in the exchanges in response to the video. In both instances, the swear words were used in an apparently teasing manner, which is interesting.¹⁵ That such insulting words are now being used jokingly between Indonesians and Malaysians may be a sign of a loosening of emotional attachment to what was once highly charged terminology, but it is too early to say. Perhaps the commenters involved in these specific exchanges were cool-headed enough to just laugh about it. Others were less charitable, as apparent in comments like: “please malayshitt don't claim”, which elicited a response: “Why Indonesian (sic) like this??? Shame on u indonesian…always claim all from indonesia” (sic).

On Facebook, the administrator of ASEAN Heritage & History posted on 11 September 2019 a lengthy discussion of Enrique Maluku, putting forward strong assertions about his Maluku and Indonesian origin, besides claiming he was the first to circumnavigate the globe.¹⁶ As the first serious and lengthy post on Facebook about Enrique Maluku, this post was remarkable for the purposes of this paper. It elicited hundreds of replies and triggered heated exchanges. These fiery exchanges suggest that the dearth of interest in Enrique Maluku discernible on Facebook and other social media platforms from mid-2015 up to 2018 was no more. I cannot ascertain what may have caused this upsurge in interest, but the media coverage of the quincentennial commemorative activities in Europe surrounding the historic voyage may have stimulated interest in Enrique, both in Malaysia and Indonesia, as well as the Philippines. That the 500th anniversary of the Magellan–Elcano expedition may have something to do with the upsurge of interest in Enrique in Indonesia may be seen in the video posted on YouTube that explicitly used 500 years as part of its title.¹⁷ This video discusses Enrique Maluku and echoes the contents of Yahya and Tawas's book.

Malaysians who read the post and who have long taken for granted that Enrique was from Malacca must have been shocked to see Indonesians claiming Enrique or Panglima Awang as their own, insisting that he was from Maluku. Some did not mince words: “The best stupid page on facebook… what a shame…” (sic); “This admin totally have a low IQ… always misguide the history… no wonder people I like jawa ” (sic); “Stupidity at it's finest. Hello admin?” (sic). That Malaysians are reacting like this casts doubt on Chong's (2012) hypothesis noted earlier. In her view, Malaysians can afford to be cavalier or dismissive of Indonesians’ “overreaction” to heritage disputes because heritage is not at the core of their identity (Chong 2009, 2012: 24). But now that the situation is reversed, and Indonesians are the ones claiming what Malaysians have long regarded as theirs, Malaysian netizens seem to be equally reactive and defensive. This also affirms Lebow's idea about the central role played by esteem or pride in driving human behaviour. The offence taken by Malaysian netizens may be interpreted as having emanated from the sense of Indonesia's counter-claim to Enrique posing a threat to their national pride. The hurtful and insulting implication of this claim includes feelings that Malaysia has yet again “stolen” from Indonesia; that Malaysia does not really have a core sense of identity because practically everything that it has Indonesia can also lay a claim to; and, most hard-hitting, that the country they had looked down on as being lesser than may possibly have a richer history and heritage.

Some commenters were more subdued and balanced in their views, arguing that in the sixteenth century, Malaysia and Indonesia did not exist, thus, there is no point in claiming Enrique for one country or another. Instead, one commenter argued that he belongs to Nusantara. Another more conciliatory reactor said: “Pengeliling Bumi Pertama Adalah Orang Malindo” (“The first people to sail around the earth were Malindos) ”, combining Malaysia and Indonesia into the term Malindo.

A year later, the post was reposted on 4 October 2020.¹⁸ It elicited over 550 reactions, over 300 comments, and it was shared over 50 times. Of those who reacted, over 500 liked or loved it and 32 mocked or laughed it off. Checking the likely origins of those who reacted using laughing emoticons, one or two appeared to be Filipinos and the rest were Malaysians. It is notable that none of the over 300 comments were downright rude, as some had been in response to the original post in the previous year. However, disagreements were strongly put forward by both of the opposing camps likely representing Malaysians who insisted that Enrique was a native of Malacca and Indonesians who believed that Enrique was originally from Maluku. Each side cited purported evidence to support their own claims, sometimes backed up with photos to reinforce their assertions.

Interestingly, one of photos posted of the relevant passages in Pigafetta's account purporting to support the idea that Enrique was from Maluku was digitally altered, with a passage from Maximilianus Transylvanus's account superimposed onto Pigafetta's, making it appear that Pigafetta had claimed Enrique was a native of Maluku. The photo was obviously altered because Pigafetta specifically stated that Enrique was from Sumatra. What puzzles me about the person who manipulated the photo, whom I infer to be Indonesian based on their account information, was why he or she pushed so hard for Maluku to the point of denying Sumatra, when both places are parts of Indonesia and Indonesians could claim glory either way. The exchanges between two commenters on a YouTube video about Enrique Maluku hint at the possible reason for this. In an effort to oppose the main idea of the video, that Enrique hailed from Maluku, someone from Malaysia noted that Enrique was a “Malacca Malay” who may have moved there from Sumatra. Another person from Indonesia responded by saying, “Enrique de malacca From sumatra. Enrique maluku from maluku. They are still from Indonesia LMAO” (sic). Then the Malaysian shot back mockingly, arguing that at that time, Sumatra was part of the Malacca Sultanate, not part of Indonesia. In their view, Enrique had originated from Sumatra and moved to Malacca, so he was not “Indonesian”.¹⁹ The Indonesian was not able to provide a convincing counterargument to this point. My expectation was that if ever claims of Enrique would come from Indonesia, they should have come decades earlier from the Sumatrans. As already noted, Enrique's possible Indonesian origins had been vouched for in Indonesia since the 1950s by a Medan newspaper. In addition, the claim is backed by Pigafetta's account, which is the most detailed and authoritative among the available historical sources. It is also affirmed by Harun Aminurrashid's novel, Panglima Awang, upon which many Malaysians have conferred de facto authority on matters concerning the identity of Enrique. It is intriguing why, up to now, Indonesians have been reticent about the Sumatran origins of Enrique, and why an increasing number of them are pushing hard to support his supposed Moluccan origins instead, which is more challenging to defend historically. Helmy Yahya himself originated from Palembang in Sumatra, and when I sent a personal message to him via Messenger to ask him about this specifically, he did not respond. In the view of Tawas (2021), since no evidence exists that Enrique managed to return to the Malacca/Sumatra area, some 2000 km west of Cebu, where he was left behind in May 1521, a claim that he came from Sumatra easily disqualifies Enrique from being the first circumnavigator of the world. Only if he were from Maluku could such a claim be made because Maluku lies east of Cebu.

The past two years (2021–2022) have seen sporadic small-scale debates appear online between proponents of each side. Both sides are strongly convinced of what they know based on their respective sources, mainly Yahya and Tawas's book, Enrique Maluku, and Harun Aminurrashid's novel, Panglima Awang. Malaysians who have engaged in debates online have conflated the predominantly fictive contents of the novel and claim their historicity. They discuss Panglima Awang's supposed DNA, son, descendants, graveyard, manuscript, and compass as if they were known historical facts.²⁰ Perhaps spurred on by the activities of some scholars who have claimed to have found his possible burial site or information about the compass he allegedly invented, the Malaysian public easily forgets that much of what they think they know about Enrique was based on a work of fiction, which is obviously not the best source of historical information. The absence of such awareness primes them to react strongly, and sometimes viciously, to any claims made by Indonesians about Enrique Maluku's origins. For their part, an increasing number of Indonesians are now strongly convinced by the book Enrique Maluku, encouraged in no small measure by HelmyYahya's persuasive public speaking. The increasingly strident and confident nationalism that has grown in Indonesia in the past two decades (Aspinall 2016) provides a fertile background for any claim that could boost the country's sense of national pride.

Points to Ponder

It is remarkable how much the dispute over the origins or “ownership” of Enrique has changed over the past decade. Before 2014, only Malaysians and Filipinos staked a claim to Enrique. Since then, it has been a three-way tussle that now includes Indonesians. In the absence of exacerbating factors, the long-standing contestation between Filipinos and Malaysians over Enrique remained largely an innocuous intellectual exercise, confined to small number of history enthusiasts. Indonesia's entry into the fray deviates from a similar trajectory. What makes the difference is the decades-long, tension-filled relations between Indonesia and Malaysia since at least the Konfrontasi in the 1960s.

So far, the antagonistic engagements online remain limited in scale, frequency, and regularity. However, the fierce exchanges in the past three years may presage what is to come. The newness of the idea and the still limited number of Indonesians who know about Enrique are major factors that, I think, hold things back. What these sporadic but rather intense encounters online show is how easy it is to provoke highly emotional responses from either side. Possible triggers in the foreseeable future are plenty. The plan for a documentary on Enrique Maluku, for instance, is underway, and novels about him are being written in multiple languages (Personal communications with Reinhard Tawas 2022). If these materialize, it is possible that Enrique and his supposed Maluku/Moluccan origins will become widely known in Indonesia. This could fuel suspicions about how Enrique and his achievements could have been kept “hidden” from them for so long. That his Indonesian origins were deliberately “kept hidden” is preposterous, of course, but many Indonesian netizens, who are exposed to deceptions by politicians and scholars in the past, tend to be receptive to insinuations of the “truth” being deliberately kept from them. For their part, Malaysian netizens complain that Indonesia is “stealing” Enrique from them. Having been so used to the idea of Enrique being their “own” for so long, and being generally fed up with the tendency (from their viewpoint) of Indonesians to “claim everything as their own”, it is unlikely they would take this change lightly. Following Lebow's cultural theory, the pursuit and protection of honour or esteem drive people's behaviour. Since it is a matter of national pride that Enrique belongs to one or the other claimant, the zero-sum characteristic of the question enhances the possibility of full-blown conflicts or tensions developing in the future. The often sharp and sarcastic retorts by Malaysian netizens to the very idea of Enrique Maluku tend to elicit equally harsh responses from their Indonesian counterparts. Fundamentally, the playbook based on previous disputes over “Rasa Sayange”, Pendet, batik, and several other cultural artefacts may be returned to regarding Enrique for years to come.

Nonetheless, there are some cool- or level-headed participants on both sides. They often refer to the anachronism and absurdity of claiming entities like Enrique, who lived several centuries before the two nations materialized, for either Indonesia or Malaysia. They also highlight the shared and entwined character of the heritage and history of the two countries, which renders pointless the scuffle between them. The idea of a shared ownership of Enrique within Nusantara or Alam Melayu (the Malay world) is clearly enshrined in the “Enrique Malacca Memorial Project” that was initiated by respected and well-known Malaysian artist Ahmad Fuad Osman.²¹ Highlighting the recent and colonial origins of the national boundaries that created the framework for contentious inter-nationalist conflicts, the transnational concept of Nusantara or Alam Melayu is used as a framing device. However, the likes of Ahmad Fuad Osman seem to be a minority among those who took part in the exchanges online. The defenders of either side, both the zealous and the mildly intolerant ones, seem to make up the greater proportion of the participants. Only time can tell whether the ratio might shift in the future.

Constructivist theories on international relations, like Lebow's, underscore contingency and fluidity rather than determinism or predictability, towards which realist and liberal approaches lean. Disputes over Enrique show how historical interpretations take various and conflicting shapes depending on regional, national, and personal contexts. While the long-standing tensions between the two countries exist, whether efforts to propagate knowledge about Enrique Maluku will succeed in the foreseeable future and whether the Indonesian public will be largely receptive of it remain open-ended questions. That the idea of Enrique as from Maluku and as the first circumnavigator of the world did not “go viral” between 2014 and 2018 does not mean that the concept was rejected altogether. It may be attributed to the extreme novelty of the idea among Indonesians. Since 2019, signs that it has begun to take a life of its own may be discernible in online posts and occasional fierce exchanges, where Indonesian netizens actively defend the idea.

The case of Enrique also demonstrates that the existence of very limited historical sources does not prevent full-blown narratives about historical figures from being created. These narratives take on lives of their own once they have circulated through social and digital spaces. This point is significant, for it flags up the need to pay attention not only to the question of historical accuracy but also to the social life of historical claims. The shapes of dominant as well as competing narratives about certain historical figures like Enrique reflect the synergy between personal motivations and the prevailing social forces in their respective domains.

Rather striking in this regard is the reticence of academic historians in Malaysia surrounding the inadequate historical basis for much of what is widely known about Enrique. It is also noticeable how easy it has been for non-historians (particularly literature scholars) to dominate the conversation. In the past six decades of Panglima Awang's existence in Malaysia's national imaginary, no academic historians in Malaysia have challenged the very limited historical basis for the claims made about Enrique. Even Panglima Awang@Enrique Melaka: Melayu Pertama Mengelilingi Dunia (Nik Hassan Shuhaimi et al. 2010), arguably the most academically rigorous history book produced by Malaysian scholars on the subject, did not raise any questions about the historicity of the novel's (Panglima Awang) claims. Instead, it firmly reinforces the narrative arc established in the novel Panglima Awang. In the Philippines, while there remain historians and other scholars who support that idea that Enrique originated from the Philippines, there are many others who critique the idea. That there are contemporary Malaysian scholars who are trying to find Panglima Awang's supposed grave in Rembau suggests a total disregard for the lack of historical evidence of him ever leaving Cebu in or after 1521 or, more fundamentally, of him surviving the massacre on 1 May 1521. In fact, his name was included in the report submitted to the Spanish authorities in 1522 listing those who had perished in the massacre.

On the side of Indonesia, the silence of historians and other scholars since 2014 may be attributed to the novelty of the idea being put forward only in 2014. It is in this context that we can see the online forum organized by Himpunan Penulis Indonesia (Writers Guild of Indonesia) on 12 September 2021 as remarkable.²² It was possibly the first public discussion of Enrique Maluku among Indonesian intellectuals. This suggests that the idea of Enrique Maluku has begun to be noticed by the intelligentsia in Indonesia. The two authors, Helmy Yahya and Reinhard Tawas, were invited to explain their book, and some members of the group served as discussants or reactors. I cannot ascertain whether there was an academic historian who took part in the forum. None among the reactors and members of the audience expressed criticism of the book or its authors, but their guarded or doubtful attitudes were palpable throughout the event. Reinhard Tawas had to explain the documentary basis of their claims repeatedly and noted that they added two chapters to the third edition of the book to provide more evidence.

Interestingly, one of the reactors explained the firm push to recognize Enrique Maluku by the officials and people of Maluku themselves. According to him, given the tarnished image of Maluku, owing to its close association with the Dutch colonizers and memories of the Republik Maluku Selatan (or South Maluku Republic) revolt (1950-1963), embracing the idea of Enrique Maluku as the first to circumnavigate the globe offers a great opportunity to repair or rehabilitate Maluku's reputation. It should not be surprising, therefore, that the governor of the province of Maluku not only readily endorsed the book but even wrote the preface. This also hints at why several social media posts made by orang Maluku or Moluccans and responses to posts or video clips on Enrique Maluku are replete with references to negative stereotypes associated with Moluccans, such as them being preman (thugs or gangsters), debt collectors, and poor, in tandem with a sense of elation that finally something very positive is being associated with Maluku.²³ The combination of the strong political motivations shown by leaders in Maluku and the psychological incentives among ordinary Moluccans add to the flourishing nationalist sentiment surrounding Enrique, particularly vis-à-vis Malaysia as “Other” (Fakih 2017), to strengthen the possibility of a continuing push to recognize Enrique Maluku. As Malaysians are unlikely to take this challenge lightly, the currently limited skirmishes online over Enrique could intensify and expand, or sporadically flare up, in the foreseeable future. The debate over his origins may become one of the more permanent factors affecting the ongoing battle for shared claims over the two countries’ heritage for years to come.