In multi-ethnic and multi-cultural societies, language is about more than communication. It is about recognition and accommodation, power and power-sharing. When society fosters power-sharing and forges compromise and consensus to underpin societal cohesion and achieve relative peace at home, the role of official and national languages can be powerful and paramount.
Thailand's three southernmost border provinces of Pattani, Yala, Narathiwat, and parts of Songkhla, where a Malay-Muslim insurgency has raged in varying degrees for more than a century, with the last decade being the most virulent and deadliest, have shown poor use of language as a governance tool.
The Thai language is Thailand's only official tongue. Even English, which successive Thai governments have espoused as a way of upgrading the workforce and internationalising Thais for the globalisation age, is considered a quasi-secondary but not official language. Evidently, there are a wide variety of languages and dialects spoken throughout the country but central Thai is the one and only national language in official documents and dealings.
That the official Thai language is the dominant medium of communication has been more or less accepted or tolerated over the decades. It is testimony to the proselytising and hegemonic Thai state, particularly its rigid fixation with being unitary and indivisible.
The rulers of Thailand have wielded state power with little regard for the multitude of ethnic identities that constitute the nation. These people of different historical pathways and diverse cultural sensitivities and norms have had to adjust to the Thai state. The inviolable and unitary Thai state, over the decades regardless of the government of the day, does not make adjustments.
This formula of assimilation for integration has worked to a large degree. The overseas Chinese, for example, have become so enmeshed and embedded in Thai society that they are considered and accepted as one and the same. Some Chinese-Thais still carry on with different versions of Chinese language dialects but they all speak Thai and have no qualms about it. Most important, Thailand is not beset with ethnic and racial tensions between the overseas Chinese and the indigenous Thais, unlike Malaysia, for example.
But the reality with Malay Muslims in the deep South is fundamentally different. The Malays there are equally Malay and Muslim in the first order. By ethnic identity and citizenship requirement, they are Malay first and Thai second. Yet their "Malayness" is hardly accommodated in Thai officialdom. When the latest surge of Malay-Muslim insurgency flared up in January 2004, the powers-that-be in Thailand dismissed "yawi" (in Thai parlance), or "jawi" as it is called by local Malay Muslims, as a possible second official language in the predominantly Malay-Muslim deep south.
If we look at other polyglot countries with more than one official language that weave together multicultural and multi-ethnic societies, the concession of having additional official languages is critical for internal peace.
Female students in the deep South at a ceremonial gathering with the Thai national flag fluttering overhead. Jetjaras na Ranong
New Zealand, for example, allows three official languages — English, Maori, and sign language. Understandably, sign language is there for recognition and practicality for those who cannot speak. All other New Zealanders, particularly White-Caucasian descendants of British settlers, use English as the main medium of livelihood, but everyone also knows some words of Maori.
The Maori people, on the other hand, use more English and decreasing Maori. Yet Maori is front and centre in all official dealings. Maori language is commonly tagged along English-language signs and formal documents. White Caucasian public officials go the extra mile to speak a slew of Maori words to project "inclusiveness" before proceeding with the English-language order of the day.
Language confers power and power arrangements, and is rooted in the very simple reality of "who got there first". In New Zealand's case, the Maoris were there first before white people came and settled the land. Settler-native conflicts inevitably emerged. From conflicts came compromises and concessions, operationalised in treaties, agreements, and regulations, forging nationhood in the process.
Inter-marriages between Caucasians and Maoris over the years added glue to social cohesion and consensus. That white Caucasian rulers of the country bother to recite Maori words (and exhibiting neither resentment nor hassle for it), even in a routine fashion, go a long way to heal old wounds and redress Maori grievances. Many Maoris would still say that not enough is being done to uplift their underclass status, a common claim among minorities in many countries. In some cases, what has been done may be more important than what has not.
New Zealand is not alone in having its ethnic and racial house in order. Canada is another that allows a blend of English and French to be spoken where they suit. Canadians predominantly use English for communication. But in Quebec province, where they speak French, they really speak French, as some Quebecois still have a low command of English. Naturally, both are used as official languages. Belgium and a host of other European countries have also internalised multi-lingual realities and made them official.
America stands at the other end. Native Americans were there first but were nearly wiped out, as their land was systematically settled by Caucasians. The native Americans were given hush-up compensation over the years, including land rights and the right to build and run casinos, a curse for people who are trying to improve livelihoods sustainably through education and skills attainment. Few, if any, Americans know a native American word.
Australia is another country that may not have got the native-settler mix right. The Aborigines have been compensated but not integrated. Resentment and grievances continue to fester, and the notion of "White Australia" persists.
For Thailand's deep South, the Malay Muslims were there all along for centuries. They decided to live under Siamese suzerainty for many years, a formula that worked because it granted local Malays considerable administrative latitude in their own affairs (such as education and marriage law) even under Bangkok-appointed governors, many of whom are from the area.
But as British imperialism pressed northward from Malaya, the Siamese cut a deal in 1909 and annexed about half of what had been for centuries a thriving and proud Pattani kingdom. Since then, we have only seen tension and conflict from the region. The death toll from the current phase of insurgency stands at more than 5,500, which makes the Thai South a top-10 deadliest internal conflict in the world next to the likes of Iraq, Syria, and Afghanistan.
Going forward in Thailand's southern violence, a measure of recognition and accommodation can lead the way to inclusiveness. Language can provide the opening. Why not start thinking about allowing "jawi" as a second language in official documents in the deep South and calling Pattani as Patani with one "t", as the people of Pattani kingdom see fit?
Thailand's internal peace in the deep south will come someday when the Thai people elsewhere start learning words of jawi spoken in Yala, Pattani, Narathiwat and parts of Songkhla as recognition and concession to Malay people who have had to reside in Thailand.
The writer is on leave from Chulalongkorn University and is currently the Sir Howard Kippenberger Chair at the Centre for Strategic Studies, Victoria University of Wellington in New Zealand.