The Campaign to ‘Speak Good English’

“Eh, you go where?”

“Just now he say can, but now cannot.”

“Wah, this one confirm plus chop good one, lah!”

To an outsider, these phrases might sound like “broken” or “bad” English. But to a Singaporean, they are the perfectly natural, efficient, and expressive sounds of home. This is Singlish, the unofficial national language of the Singaporean heartland. It’s a language born in the crucible of a multicultural society, a vibrant creole that embodies the nation’s unique history. And for over two decades, it has been the target of a persistent, top-down government campaign: The Speak Good English Movement.

This is the story of how a language became a flashpoint for debates about national identity, class, and cultural authenticity.

The Birth of a Creole: What Is Singlish?

To understand the conflict, we first need to understand what Singlish is—and isn’t. Linguistically, Singlish is not a collection of grammatical errors; it’s a creole language. Creoles develop when speakers of different languages need to communicate, creating a new, stable language that blends elements of the original tongues.

The recipe for Singlish is a reflection of Singapore’s history. The main ingredient, or superstrate, is English, inherited from British colonial rule. But the flavour, grammar, and syntax—the substrate—come from the tapestry of languages spoken by immigrants who built the nation:

• Hokkien and other Chinese dialects: This influence is profound. The topic-comment sentence structure (“This food, very nice”) and vocabulary like kiasu (fear of losing out) come from Hokkien.
• Malay: As the national language, Malay contributes common words like makan (to eat) and pondan (effeminate).
• Tamil: Words like goondu (stupid) have entered the Singlish lexicon from the Indian community.

The most iconic feature of Singlish is its use of discourse particles—short words added to the end of sentences that convey a universe of subtext and emotion. Words like lah, leh, meh, and lor are not random filler. They are a sophisticated system for indicating tone, from gentle persuasion (leh) to firm reassurance (lah).

Example:

• “Cannot, lah.” (A firm, obvious statement: Of course you can’t.)
• “Cannot, meh?” (Expresses surprise or disbelief: Really? You can’t?)
• “Cannot, lor.” (A tone of resignation: Well, I guess you can’t, what to do?)

In essence, Singlish is a linguistic marvel—a ground-up language forged by the people to navigate their multilingual world. It’s efficient, expressive, and a powerful badge of identity.

Enter the “Speak Good English Movement”

In 2000, the Singaporean government launched the Speak Good English Movement (SGEM). The rationale was pragmatic and rooted in a vision of Singapore as a global economic hub. The government argued that the prevalence of Singlish was a handicap. It would, they feared, erode the standard of English, making Singaporeans incomprehensible to the international business community and hindering the nation’s competitive edge.

The campaign was multifaceted. Posters appeared in schools and public transport, television ads promoted “proper” pronunciation, and even a mascot named “Gerammar” (a pun on “grammar”) was introduced. The message was clear: Singlish was an obstacle to be overcome, a dialect to be shed in favour of globally-accepted Standard English.

Then-Prime Minister Goh Chok Tong articulated the official stance, stating, “If we speak a corrupted form of English that is not understood by others, we will lose a key competitive advantage.” The government attempted a compromise, suggesting that Singaporeans should learn to “code-switch”—speak Standard English in formal settings like school and work, and use Singlish only with close friends and family.

A Clash of Tongues: Identity vs. Pragmatism

The SGEM immediately sparked a national conversation. This wasn’t just about grammar; it was about the very soul of the nation.

From the government’s perspective, this was a matter of practical necessity. For a small island nation with no natural resources, its human capital—and their ability to communicate on the world stage—was paramount. Standard English was the language of international commerce, law, and academia. Promoting it was seen as an act of forward-thinking national policy.

But for many Singaporeans, the campaign felt like a repudiation of their identity. Singlish was not just a communication tool; it was the carrier of culture, the sound of camaraderie, the shorthand of shared experience. When you heard someone order “kopi-o-kosong” (black coffee with no sugar) in a distinctively Singlish accent, you knew you were among your own. To label it “bad” was to delegitimize a core part of the Singaporean identity.

Critics argued the movement created an unnecessary class divide. “Good English” became a marker of the elite, the well-educated, and the internationally-exposed, while Singlish was relegated to the working class or the “heartlander.” This ignored the reality that most Singaporeans, regardless of class, could navigate both with ease.

The Tides Turn: A New Acceptance

Over the years, the narrative has slowly shifted. While the Speak Good English Movement continues, its tone has softened. The fierce, almost adversarial, stance against Singlish has given way to a more nuanced understanding of its place in society.

Several factors contributed to this change:

1. Cultural Confidence: As Singapore matured, a greater sense of confidence in its own unique culture emerged. Artists, playwrights, and filmmakers began to use Singlish not as a punchline, but as an authentic voice for their characters. Films like I Not Stupid put Singlish front and center, resonating deeply with local audiences.
2. Linguistic Validation: The global linguistic community has long recognized Singlish as a legitimate creole. This was given a significant boost when words like kiasu, shiok (delicious or great), and even the particle lah were officially added to the Oxford English Dictionary, granting it international validation.
3. The Rise of Code-Switching: The younger generation of Singaporeans has proven the early fears wrong. They are adept code-switchers, effortlessly moving between polished Standard English in a business presentation and expressive Singlish with friends over lunch. They see no contradiction; the two forms serve different purposes.

Today, the battle over Singlish is less of a war and more of a settled truce. It is widely accepted as an integral, vibrant, and cherished part of the Singaporean identity. It is a living testament to the nation’s history—a language that is not just spoken, but felt. It proves that a language is more than just a tool for commerce; it is the authentic, undeniable voice of a people.