LET THE CREATIVE JUICES FLOW
From the foreigner’s perspective, the Malaysians’ love for their language is their strong suit, and it’s not a flaw
ACOUNTRY’s national language is a defining component of its culture and heritage. At the same time, people’s ability to open up to global communication is more vital than ever. Where do we draw the line between safeguarding a national language and the creative licence to play with it?
One of the first things a foreigner notices and appreciates when relocating to Malaysia is the good command of English and its widespread usage by the local population.
Especially those among us, for whom English is the only language, are in awe at the ease with which Malaysians manage to juggle Bahasa Malaysia, a Chinese dialect, an Indian one and English, sometimes all within one sentence. Mind boggling.
Malaysians love to talk, to communicate, to play with words at their disposal like a child with her favourite set of building blocks.
Most foreigners will recall one time or other, when they have asked a friendly neighbour to translate a long statement addressed to them in Bahasa Malaysia by their plumber, dobi lady or such. The translated version? “He said yes.”
We never fail to wonder how the original version was so much longer and included at least a couple of English words.
News broke out last week that Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka (DBP) might soon be given the power to take legal action against those who fail to uphold Bahasa Malaysia as the national language. This new law aims at strengthening the use of the language, thus, penalising improper usage of it.
“So how-lah?” my Uber driver commented to me, as we listened to a radio debate on the subject during a trip downtown.
Of course, a language is much more than a means of communication. It stands in a historical context, it mirrors a community’s traditions, it has evolved within a cultural framework. Its further development is worth careful consideration and its protection is a serious endeavour.
Many countries have institutions that uphold their national language’s purity, that keep the holy grail of literary values, just like Malaysia’s DBP.
Their French counterpart for instance, the Académie Française, was officially established almost 400 years ago in 1635 by Cardinal Richelieu, the chief minister to King Louis XIII.
The institute’s 40 members were known as les immortels, the immortals, as they are elected for life and the academy members choose a new associate only upon one fellow’s demise.
Also, just like DBP, the Académie Française is charged with publishing an official dictionary of the language, and therefore, safeguards its proper use and grammar.
Anglicism and so-called loanwords have been the academy’s bane for many years, especially as technology advances at an ever faster pace and the media and marketing world just loves to stir things up. Over the years, the French have gotten used to many neologisms proposed by the Académie Française.
They now comfortably use their own expressions for elsewhere widespread terms, such as computer, software or even email.
The French academy’s rulings, however, are only advisory, not binding on either the public or the government.
It seems that herein lays an important difference between the French council and its Malaysian counterpart.
The fun ends once a government institution is given the legal power to penalise users of “wrong” language.
What happens with the joie de
vivre that translates into clever wordplay?
What happens to the certain
je ne sais quoi (a quality that cannot be described easily) that a foreign language expression adds to an otherwise unemotional statement?
In our view, from the perspective of the foreigner looking in, the Malaysian’s love for their language as well as for foreign ones is their strong suit, not a flaw.
The ease with which a conversation seems to switch back and forth between languages is astounding. The effort in order to accommodate one’s counterpart shows great respect.
DBP’s mission of educating, encouraging, proposing and role modelling love and pride in the country’s national language might yield far more desirable results than arbitrary penalising.
Let teachers instil a deep love for Bahasa Malaysia in their pupils, let poets show the way to language purity, and let institutions like DBP have the time and resources needed to give these artists the exposure they need and deserve.
DBP’s mission of educating, encouraging, proposing and role modelling love and pride in the country’s national language might yield far more desirable results than arbitrary penalising.