Speaking in Bahasa Malaysia to the world

Why would you give a speech in the language of the speaker instead of the listener? Is it because it’s the only language the speaker is confident to speak in, and doing otherwise might be embarrassing? — 123rf.com

“Dalam video ini saya nak sentuh latar belakang dan alasan Russia malangnya terpaksa – dan saya tekankan ‘terpaksa’ – memulakan operasi tentera di Ukraine.” (“In this video I would like to touch on the background and reasons why Russia unfortunately has been forced – and I stress ‘forced’ – to begin a military operation in Ukraine.”)

This was the start of a speech made by a member of the Russian Embassy in Malaysia in the first week of March, 2022. A few things might jump out at you. Perhaps some will question how much you need to stretch the word “terpaksa” to justify the Russian invasion of Ukraine. But the thing that came to my mind, of course, was that he spoke in Bahasa Malaysia (BM), specifically in the week after the Malaysian Prime Minister had said that Malaysian government officials representing the country overseas should only speak in BM.

What language Malaysians should use when representing the government isn’t necessarily so straightforward. For example, Sarawak’s state assembly still uses both English and BM in its proceedings. And the federal Parliament allowed debate in English until as late as 1977. In these cases, if you only understood one language but not the other, you would be at a disadvantage.

Indeed, politicians who are multilingual stand a better chance of persuading people to follow their lead. And if your name is Lee Kuan Yew, choosing the right language to speak in is about getting your country to join Malaya – and then perhaps influencing people to let you leave amicably.

In the early 1960s, there was debate in Singapore about whether it should merge with Malaya. To persuade the public, Singaporean prime minister Lee Kuan Yew gave a series of speeches on radio, now known as the “Battle for Merger”.Lee felt it was so important for people to understand his argument that he personally delivered the talks in three languages: English, Malay and Mandarin.

In total, there were 12 talks, each lasting between 15 and 20 minutes. Lee felt it was so important for people to understand his argument that he personally delivered the talks in three languages: English, Malay and Mandarin. You may be surprised that he was already adept at BM, and delivered those with ease. Perhaps even more surprising was that he needed help with translation and pronunciation for the Mandarin text, having been poor at it for a large part of his life, and only properly picking it up when he was 33 years old.

(There were also translations broadcast in Tamil, Hokkien and Cantonese but they were not recorded by Lee.)

What he said must have had some effect because in 1963, Singapore joined the Federation of Malaya, Sabah and Sarawak to form Malaysia. However, a few scant years later, Lee clashed with his opponents who wanted him back out. Some Malay politicians felt that Lee and the PAP (People’s Action Party), the political party he led, were too aggressive and that Lee harboured ambitions to spread his influence beyond Singapore – to establish a “Chinese Malaysia” as some opposing MPs put it, that would erode Malay culture and language.

In response, Lee stood up in Parliament in 1965, and said, “Their problem is not that we are against Malay as the national language. We accept it. Kita terima bahasa Melayu menjadi bahasa kebangsaan, sanggup dengan sepenuh-penuhnya (We accept Malay as the national language, willingly and wholeheartedly)”.

He then continued speaking in Malay for a few more minutes, all the while emphasising the point that one doesn’t have to speak Malay to be a loyal and patriotic citizen of Malaysia.

It’s unclear if Singapore later left Malaysia in spite of Lee’s performance in Parliament or because of it. But by just delivering his message in the appropriate language, he made sure people paid attention.

Lee has said that language is what enables you to connect with the audience. He once said the following in an interview on his efforts to inculcate bilingualism: “Language is an emotive subject. People don’t respond to policies based on logic. When you change policies it has to be emotionally acceptable.”

This idea about using the right language at the right time continues until today. Take for example the current Russia-Ukraine conflict. Sergiy Kyslytsya, the Ukrainian ambassador to the United Nations, frequently speaks in English, even when trading words with the Russian ambassador. I believe this is because although he is talking to the Russian, his intent is for the world to hear what he has to say.

Does that mean that a translator wouldn’t be able to get a point across? Not necessarily. When Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky addressed the European Union Parliament earlier this week, he received a standing ovation despite using a translator. However, he was helped in no small part by the translator himself beginning to choke up as he translated Zelensky’s vow to continue to resist despite missiles raining down on Ukraine – “We are fighting both for our land and for our freedom.”

It worked in that case because the translator felt what his president meant in the moment, but you obviously can’t depend on that. However, if you know the language and can communicate efficiently in it, you can make the point yourself, with full intent and meaning.

Which probably explains why the Russian embassy felt it would make more of an impact speaking in BM. Judging by many of the comments in the post, there were more than a few Malaysians who responded kindly to his comments.

Though there was also one commenter who wrote, “Top notch psyops”. Whether he’s right or not, a fair question to ask would be, why would you give a speech in the language of the speaker instead of the listener?

Is it because we are certain to always get perfect translations from perfectly in-synch translators? Or is it because there is an intrinsic beauty and comfort in speaking in your own language, that just hearing the rise and fall of its patter can connect us to the listeners? Or is it because it’s the only language the speaker is confident to speak in, and doing otherwise might be embarrassing?

Anyway, if Lee can learn a language again as an adult just to get his point across better, so can – and should – most of us.

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In his fortnightly column, Contradictheory, mathematician-turned-scriptwriter Dzof Azmi explores the theory that logic is the antithesis of emotion but people need both to make sense of life’s vagaries and contradictions. Write to Dzof at [e-mail]. The views expressed here are entirely the writer's own.