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Speaking Good English is a Class Aspiration

Top image: Asia One Much has already been said on the topic of Singlish, following a forum letter published in the Straits Times about how it is “unnecessary to promote the use of Singlish.” Just the other day, an aunt questioned my use of it, and used the fact that I write for a living as a justification for why I shouldn’t speak this way. I then proceeded to lecture her on how Singlish is our national creole, paraphrasing the original Quora article that went viral back in 2013, explaining how Singlish very much has its own syntax and grammar. In other words, I echoed the arguments that many have already made about its linguistic foundation and how, as Singaporeans, we should be proud of speaking Singlish. My aunt, smothered under the barrage of my spirited (and admittedly, resentful) rhetoric, backed down. She conceded, “See … this is why you’re a writer.” Yet I found no satisfaction in “winning” this argument. I realised that speaking Standard English for the sake of speaking well didn’t quite explain why certain Singaporeans continue to feel the way they do about their local patois.

If you're Singaporean, writing this way might come naturally to you. Speaking? Not so much. In Singapore, the desire to leave Singlish behind is largely an aspirational one. We often hear that if we want to be understood internationally, we have to speak standard English. Which is a perfectly justified sentiment. But buried behind this is also the persisting belief that if one wants to be (or appear) respectable and successful, one needs to stop speaking Singlish. Note that this has little to do with speaking Standard English. Instead, it’s about leaving behind the part of Singaporean culture that is somehow seen as shameful, uncivilised, and uneducated. This was a point of view common among the ‘standard batch’ of army mates I spent my National Service with. Most of them were from ITE, and when we hung out, they would tell me between sips of Tiger beer and Martell, “We all cannot speak English one, confirm no future.” Afterwards, I was surprised to learn that this was a mindset instilled in them by both parents and educators alike. And so to me at least, efforts to replace the local vernacular with Standard English have always mirrored Singapore’s ambition to become a global city. These observations explain why the most ardent defenders of Singlish also happen to be the younger generations. They’re less fixated on these markers of perceived refinement and prosperity—bearing in mind that to many segments of Singaporean society, speaking good English automatically gets you labelled an ‘ah xia gia,’ meaning ‘rich man’s son.’ As such, the Singlish debate has never really been about educating students to speak the right way. Instead, it’s a class war that embodies how Singaporeans see themselves and/or want to be seen. Why else are kids on television, who are meant to be seen as speaking good or Standard English, always made to speak with some gross, synthetic, Caucasian-imitating, cringe-worthy accent? Is it what we sound like that we’re afraid of, or who we sound like?

Come on, most people have enough good sense to know when and when not to use Singlish. When I was still studying in an Independent boys’ school, most of us came from English speaking backgrounds and conversed in Standard English. The handful of boys we considered ‘ah bengs’ all spoke Chinese at home and Singlish amongst themselves. Inevitably, they never really fit in and were compelled by the circumstances to keep to themselves. In a way, it was a microcosm of how Singapore works. Except that in reality, Singlish speakers are the majority and snobs or Singaporeans who consider themselves “sophisticated” remain the minority. The truth is, amidst the English lessons in schools, media that kids consume, and parents’ frustrated attempts to get children to say “Switch off the lights,” and not, “Off the lights,” young Singaporeans these days grow up learning to code-switch between Singlish and Standard English. Whether through lessons or life experiences, they also then learn that there is a time and place for each. Today, it is really only the older generations who still continue to struggle with the English language. The way I see it, the backlash that Singlish has often received comes from a place of insecurity about who we are. Fears about its “threat” are understandable though largely over-reactions. What we need right now is a shift in our cultural mindset, not new language policies. After all, we don’t speak the way we write. Good communication is what matters, and in practising it, it hardly matters whether one can string together a sentence that’s grammatically sound. Instead, tone, body language, and the ability to listen all play important roles in effectively expressing one’s ideas. As long as people know what you mean, that’s really all that matters. So why not focus on these things instead?