No Jamaican in Jamaican Parliament.
Our take
In a profound moment that resonates far beyond the walls of Jamaica's parliament, MP Nekeisha Burchell's maiden speech was a stark reminder of the disconnect between colonial legacies and contemporary realities. As she approached the microphone, her awareness of the Westminster-style parliamentary system mirrored in her own country's governance sent ripples of frustration through those who understand the implications of such mimicry. It’s a phenomenon that speaks to the heart of cultural identity and representation — a theme echoed in other discussions around language, such as in Learning my local sign language has greatly improved my ability to pick up foreign languages and How can I help my language exchange partner improve?. These articles explore how linguistic nuances shape our interactions and perceptions, highlighting the importance of authenticity in communication.
Burchell's choice to begin her speech in Jamaican Patois — a language rich in history and culture — was not merely a linguistic preference; it was a statement steeped in cultural pride and a challenge to the colonial narratives that have long dictated how governance should look and sound in post-colonial nations. The fact that her speech was met with dismay and confusion in a setting that favors a more traditional, often foreign, English dialect underscores a critical issue: the ongoing struggle for representation that honors local identities and experiences. The very structure of Jamaica’s parliament reflects a colonial hangover, raising important questions about who is truly represented and how their voices and languages are valued within political discourse.
This moment is emblematic of a broader trend that extends beyond Jamaica. Across the globe, many nations grapple with the legacies of colonialism, attempting to navigate their identities in a world that often expects conformity to Western norms. The resistance against these norms is crucial, as it paves the way for a more pluralistic understanding of governance and communication. The implications of Burchell’s speech ripple outwards, inviting us to reconsider our own preconceived notions about language and authority. Are we ready to embrace the complexities that come with diverse linguistic expressions, or will we continue to uphold an exclusionary standard that dismisses rich cultural contexts?
Moreover, this conversation intersects with the ongoing discourse around identity, inclusion, and the politics of language. As we observe the growing movements advocating for linguistic rights and recognition — such as those exploring the significance of Chuschagasta in cultural narratives — we find ourselves at a crossroads. The courage exhibited by figures like Burchell challenges us to consider how we define legitimacy and authority in political spaces.
As we look forward, the question remains: what does the future hold for languages that have been historically marginalized in political realms? Will we continue to see a shift towards embracing the full spectrum of voices that make up our societies, or will we remain tethered to outdated notions of supremacy that prioritize the familiar over the authentic? The unfolding narrative around language, identity, and governance is one to watch closely, as it will undoubtedly shape the contours of our collective future. In the spirit of Burchell's bold declaration, let us dare to listen, learn, and, most importantly, reflect on the languages we choose to speak.
This is the kind of thing that enrages me; Natricia Duncan and Anthony Lugg report in the Guardian:
When the Jamaican MP Nekeisha Burchell stood up to give her maiden speech, she was keenly aware of how much her country’s parliament mirrored the Westminster version thousands of miles away in London. […] Burchell, the opposition spokesperson for culture, creative industries and information, approached the microphone and began to speak. “Madam speaka, mi git up dis afta noon fi mek mi fuss sectoral speech, pan me portfolio …”
The speaker, Juliet Holness, immediately cut her off. “Hold on, hold on, hold on! Standing orders, and I think you are fully aware,” said Holness, who is the wife of Jamaica’s prime minister. The regulation to which Holness referred was the rule that only English – and certainly not Jamaican – is allowed in parliament. “If I have to stop you again during your presentation, you will not get any additional time,” Holness told Burchell as parliament erupted into protest, with someone chiding “broken English”.
Burchell had ignited an explosive debate across the country and beyond about the enduring legacy of British colonialism and whether robes, prayers for the British monarch and the “king’s English” are still right for Jamaica, more than 60 years after it gained independence.
Burchell continued her speech in standard English. “Madam speaker, perhaps I should abandon that attempt to use our local language because I have been reminded of the linguistic conventions of this honourable house,” she said. “Because maybe there is no more fitting way to begin a presentation on culture than to speak briefly in the language understood by the overwhelming majority of Jamaican people – even if that language still struggles for full acceptance in some of our most formal national spaces, including this very parliament.”
Speaking to the Guardian this week, Burchell said: “The moment really exposed unresolved tensions around language, legitimacy and postcolonial identity.” She said it was not her intention to disrespect parliament or cause disorder. “For me, the question is not whether parliament should have rules. Of course it should. The intention was to disrupt the comfort zone we have found ourselves in.
“We have gotten comfortable with keeping things like the prayer we say before parliament starts every single week … We’re saying these words that we don’t understand. We’re still wearing these wigs and these robes in a hot climate like Jamaica, because we are still keeping these models.”
Burchell said her intervention was not meant to be “anti-British” or “anti-English” but was more about Jamaica’s cultural confidence. “Jamaica’s language has become one of the most globally recognisable cultural expressions to come out of the Caribbean. Through reggae, dancehall, athletics, popular culture, people across the world recognise the rhythm, energy, boldness, humour [and] the emotional texture of our language. And I think that’s part of why this conversation resonated internationally,” she said. […]
Prof Carolyn Cooper, a literary scholar, was one of several Jamaican academics to support Burchell’s intervention. On Friday, Cooper interviewed Burchell entirely in Jamaican on the University of the West Indies (UWI) YouTube platform. “I describe our language as Jamaican. Not Jamaican Patois, not Jamaican Creole, not dialect, none of those. Jamaican! Just like French, Spanish, English, German and any other language,” Cooper said.
“I think the problem is that we don’t recognise Jamaican as a language, because if we did, Jamaica would be officially bilingual,” she said, adding there was a widespread perception that Jamaican was not a language in itself. […]
According to Dr Joseph Farquharson, a coordinator of the Jamaican Language Unit (JLU) at UWI, Jamaican “has all of the features, all of the characteristics or properties of a language”. The language has a complex history, coming not only “out of European imperial expansion and colonialism” but also from other languages and dialects, he said.
“Jamaican is like several other languages referred to as creole languages. Those languages emerged in the context of Atlantic plantation slavery out of the interaction between Europeans and Africans, mostly west Africans,” Farquharson said.
On the campaign trail, Jamaican politicians normally use Jamaican, and the 2005 language attitude survey of Jamaica suggested most Jamaicans recognised “Patwa” as a language and thought it should be made an official language alongside English, he noted. “Nobody has suggested getting rid of English. What is being suggested is that we make a space for the language that most Jamaicans use and understand.” […]
Sonjah Stanley Niaah, the director for UWI’s Centre for Reparation Research, described the parliamentary rule of speaking English only as a “direct legacy of enslavement”. She said: “It is surprising that, in a parliament with intentions to petition the king of England for a response in relation to whether enslavement of Africans was a crime against humanity, in a country which has a ministry of culture charting the reparation agenda, that such a negative response to the use of Jamaican was upheld.”
It’s bad enough when colonial powers officially suppress the languages of the peoples they colonized; it boggles my mind that the government of a country that threw off British rule would continue to insist on “proper” English at the expense of the language of its own people. But power, anywhere and everywhere, insists on conformity. (If you want the opposing view, that “rules should govern,” click through and read the official responses, which I have elided because they make my teeth itch.)
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