Citizen Speak, Main Stories, TOC Stomp - Saturday, March 6, 2010 17:36 - 90 Comments

The language divide

By Yini Chua

Step  into any ACS school, and you would be hard-pressed to find anyone conversing in Mandarin. As an alumnus aptly articulated, the surest way of gaining notoriety is to ‘get a loudhailer and start singing Chinese songs at the top of your voice’.

During my two years’ stint in ACJC, it was not uncommon to hear about how our school, a traditional enclave of atas – high class – English speaking students from single-sex mission schools such as MGS or ACS(I), has been diluted by the influx of students from SAP schools.

In other words, people like myself.

Born into a Chinese-speaking family, and having attended Nan Hua Secondary, I was the epitome of a cheenah kid. Having spoken Mandarin up till the point when I entered ACJC, I experienced a culture shock in my first few days of school, where virtually all of my classmates spoke English. My insecurity was further magnified by the secondary school uniform I was wearing.

It is a classic case of how ‘clothes maketh the man’. In ancient Rome, your clothes not only showed your status in society but also pinpointed exactly the layer to which you belong.

It is not much different nowadays. It is a sad fact that most people are judged by which school they came from, rather than by their real talents that lie underneath the clothes.

Yes, the world is my oyster. But the oyster speaks English and wears an MGS uniform.

This is not an isolated case. English-speaking elitism is a growing phenomenon in Singapore, as families who communicate solely in English are fast becoming the majority, providing sharp relief into the cultural differences cleavaging the local Chinese community.

Of course, the economy has a big part to play. Since independence, English has been dominant as the language of commerce and government. It has assumed the role of a de-facto lingua franca of Singaporeans, as its accessibility did not provide any racial group with any ostensible linguistic advantage, particularly the Chinese majority.

More parents are encouraging their children to adopt English as their first language, in the name of pragmatism. It is an accepted fact that being fluent in the language paves way for a smoother career trajectory.

However, the outward rejection of one’s mother tongue, especially Mandarin, has, in recent years, gained momentum among the younger generation. It is an unintended, regrettable consequence that the inability to write and speak Mandarin has become a point of pride among youths.

In fact, offering the Chinese Language ‘B’ syllabus (CLB) has morphed into a badge of honour for such students, as a testament to their inferior Chinese speaking skills.

The fact that being incompetent in one’s mother tongue has become a ticket to popularity speaks volumes about our level of maturity and our desire to hold on to our traditional heritage.

My 9 years old cousin is an exemplification of this point. When confronted about his dismal grade in Chinese, he self-righteously exclaimed, ‘But I got A star for my English what. And Chinese is so hard to learn.’

At that point of time I was very acutely aware of my grandmother’s expression – one of resignation.

Although Chinese is not an easy language to learn, it is our responsibility as ethnic Chinese to be proficient in our mother tongue. The motivation behind learning a language should not be anything but intrinsic.

By intrinsic, I am referring to the innate interest in one’s native tongue and the acknowledgement of the importance of its role in keeping culture alive.

Even the recent state-sponsored revival of Mandarin can be attributed to economic practicalities. The national obsession with pragmatism has resulted in a population that is hyper-efficient only in the manufacture of tangible results. The productive ethic of this island state has been secured at the price of cultural degradation.

This phenomenon paints a very pessimistic picture for Chinese cultural development. The socio-cultural architecture of this nation is increasingly reflecting the tabula rasa of our physical landscape, where cultural relics and architecture will still stand in their pristine condition, but without evoking any sentiment. Their fate as empty and polished shells is the danger that faces the culturally lobotomized children of the future.

The history behind Nantah is a treasure trove of stories that narrates the sacrifices of the local Chinese population as they endeavored to build an oasis of education for the future generation.

Now, precisely because of the borrowed cachet of history, its contemporary namesake is ridiculed for its cheenah-ness.

The Chinese adage of remembering the spring when drinking water, encapsulating the need for gratitude towards our elders. Reaping the fruits that our ancestors have shed blood and tears for, the younger generation has to fulfill our responsibility and ensure the continuity of our culture.

We should also seek to transcend the functional logic that underscores the government’s interest in Mandarin and appreciate our culture beyond the state-imposed understanding of racial categorization. The appreciation of Chinese culture may begin but should not end with Mandarin; rather it should be the tentative to steps to rekindle our interest in the dialects and practices that have been reduced to obscurity, both by the state and by ourselves.

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Headline photo courtesy of chinnian

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