JANUARY 21 — One of the things I learnt early on as a student of linguistics is the concept of semantic markedness. 

Consider the phrase “male nurse”. Because the role of nurse is stereotypically coded as female, marking “male” highlights its perceived uniqueness. Every day, we all subconsciously mark features that we take as important cues to reality. 

This instinct for marking is rooted in our biology. Baby zebras identify their mothers by the distinctive markings on their stripes, and elephants distinguish their clans by unique sensory cues. For animals, semantic marking is essential for survival, helping them navigate a world of kin and strangers. 

With humans, we take this further through the power of words. We use antagonist and protagonist labels to respectively demonise others and galvanise support. 

Examples include “freedom fighters”, “terrorists”, “Chads” and “incels”. With the amplification of mass and social media, these marked distinctions are reinforced on a massive scale. As we can see, markedness can create friction in intergroup relations. 

Antagonistic labels can effectively erase the humanity of their targets, as witnessed in the horrible Rwanda conflict, where it was normal for the Tutsis to be called “Inyenzi” (cockroaches). 

These labels become linguistic shorthands that bypass the individual in favour of a dehumanised category. 

This process is so potent that some global institutions now advocate for unmarking of certain labels to restore human dignity. 

For instance, around 2014, the World Health Organisation (WHO) began advocating for the term “people who use drugs” rather than “drug addicts” to unmark the deviancy and restore focus to the person. 

Perhaps the most potent tool of the identity architect is negation. Terms like “non-Malay”, “non-Bumiputera” or “non-Asian” do more than just categorise. 

They define the “Other” by what they lack. By marking through negation, the idea that one group is the standard or the “norm” is subconsciously cemented, while everyone else is defined only in relation to that centre. 

This creates a psychological chasm where the unmarked group is the rightful owner of the national narrative, and the marked “non-group” is merely a guest. 

We load these marked categories with stereotypes. In Malaysia, surface-level differences in language, skin colour, or cultural practices are often marked to associate certain groups with “rempit” culture, gangsterism, or gambling addiction. 

Once a group is marked, every negative trait is seen as a feature of that group, whereas the same behaviour in an unmarked group is viewed merely as an individual flaw. 

In many ways, these descriptions feed directly into Henri Tajfel’s Social Identity Theory. Tajfel argued that we derive our sense of self from the groups we belong to, which requires us to sharpen the boundaries between “Us” and “Them”. 

Interestingly, this marking is not our factory setting. If we observe very young children interacting with one another, we note that they do not identify each other as Chinese, Indian,

or Malay. 

They are not yet primed to mark these features. It is only later, through the influence of home, friends, media, and leaders, that they are taught which differences matter through interactions. 

We prime them with cues we claim are essential for individual or group survival, teaching them to navigate a world already shaped by adult perceptions. 

In this sense, racism is often less about malice and more about a misplaced survival instinct. 

It is a learned response to mark potential threats based on the categories we were taught to fear. 

Today, Malaysia faces a new wave of markings, or quite possibly, markings that are already dominant discourses. 

As Pakistanis, Palestinians, Rohingyas, and Chinese citizens set up residence, a familiar pattern emerges. 

If their next of kin were to become Malaysians, will the current guards of our identity mark them as different, just as the Chinese and Indians were marked at the cusp of Independence? 

From different frames of thinking, be it national history and ownership, or the economics of globalisation, come different modes of semantic marking. 

We are told to mark what is beneficial or what is historically fair. It is undeniable that these frames often clash, leaving us with a fragmented sense of who we are. 

So this begs the question: If we want to create a cohesive society despite our unique ethnic and cultural differences, we need to answer these questions, collectively and individually, in earnest. 

What features do we want to mark and, more importantly, unmark? What will we gain? What are the prices we will pay for our collective and individual decisions? 

* David Yoong is a social scientist who completed his PhD in Linguistics at La Trobe and his Master’s degrees (Criminal Justice and Linguistics) at the University of Malaya. He is a former University of Malaya academic.

** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.