In the Parliament of Malawi where national destiny is debated, a new question is stirring the air: Should lawmakers stick to a colonial master’s language or speak in their mothers’ tongues that carry indigenous knowledge and ancestral wisdom?
This proposal to transform Parliament into a multilingual assembly touch a raw nerve of governance, equality and practicality as Malawi has over a dozen languages.
Last week, the Parliamentary Committee on Legal Affairs and Clerk of Parliament summoned activist Sylvester Namiwa, who argues that vernacular languages will free members of Parliament (MPs) to debate national affairs without any hindrances.
The campaigner has stirred debate over a radical proposal to strip English of its monopoly and let Chichewa and other vernacular languages take centre stage in the House.
For 60 years, Malawi’s Parliament has spoken in English, adapted from British colonial masters.
Section 51 of the Constitution makes English proficiency part of the checklists for one to contest for a parliamentary seat.
This implies that an elected member’s right to speak for their constituent partly depends on their mastery of the English language.
Without it, brilliant local leaders are legally silenced, shut out of the very House where their people’s futures are decided.
Even the laws legislators make are all in the Queen’s language.
The Lost History Foundation and Namiwa’s Centre for Democracy and Economic Development Initiatives (Cdedi) have petitioned Parliament to shatter this colonial barrier.
They want a chamber that sounds like Malawi, where laws are debated in indigenous tongues.
When the Lost History Foundation first proposed this in 2020, they faced a public pushback and MPs appeared too terrified to even touch the paperwork.
“Many MPs are completely muted because of language barriers,” says Lost History Foundation executive director Cornleath Selenje. “Allowing Chichewa ensures every leader can finally speak for their people.”
However, this is no simple policy tweak in a country with about 20 languages deemed equally important. It is a high-stakes clash between the cold demands of the global market and the heartbeat of local democracy.
Globally, language is a communication tool and a vessel of identity.
For some Malawians, English, the official language of Parliament, remains a colonial relic—alien to communities that lawmakers represent. To them, allowing vernacular languages in Parliament could symbolise a reclamation of cultural dignity—a declaration that governance belongs to people in their own words.
Yet for others, English is a bridge that connects Malawi to the world.
Risk of fragmentation
Yet, the beauty of diversity can quickly give rise to division as Malawi’s linguistic landscape is vast and Parliament risks becoming a chamber of many tongues.
If Parliament is to becomes a chamber of tongues, translation services would be required, slowing proceedings and introducing costly inefficiencies.
The debate over vernacular use in Parliament is a balancing act. For all its colonial connotations, English remains a neutral bridge across Malawi’s linguistic mosaic and a vital link to the global stage.
Perhaps, the solution lies in expanding vernacular use outside the chamber—in constituency outreach, civic education, and public hearings—while preserving English for legislative debate.
In this way, Malawi can honour its cultural heritage without sacrificing clarity, efficiency or unity.
The challenge is not whether vernacular languages matter, but how to ensure they enrich democracy without eroding its foundations.
For Namiwa and his allies, the push, it seems, is about reclaiming dignity and giving tongue-tied lawmakers a voice.
This vision resonates with many ordinary citizens, who feel excluded from parliamentary debates. It is a call to make governance accessible, bridging the gap between the elite and the grassroots.
However, business and governance with global experience view the proposal as a dangerous, regressive distraction.
UK-based international business strategist Rhoderick Kalumpha warns that the proposed switch to vernacular is “ill-advised and ill-timed”.
“In a world that is being supercharged and radically redefined by technological revolutions, we cannot as a nation be preoccupied with a domestic debate on which language to use in our legislative assembly,” he says.
McBride Nkhalamba, a globally recognised authority on public sector transformation and international affairs, says Malawi “cannot afford to turn Parliament into a language laboratory”.
“Beyond logistics, there is the danger of division as MPs might retreat into linguistic enclaves, debating in tongues that exclude others and instead of fostering unity, the chamber could fracture along ethnic and regional lines,” he says.
English, though colonial in its origin, acts as a neutral bridge across Malawi’s diverse linguistic landscape. It also connects the country to international diplomacy, trade and development partners.
Dr Jolly Max Ntaba, who heads the Department of Journalism and Media Studies at the Malawi University of Business and Applied Sciences, says that abandoning English on the legislative floor could severely weaken Malawi’s geopolitical voice.
“Language is not just about communication—it is about positioning. If Malawi abandons English in Parliament, it risks isolating itself from the global stage,” he observes.
Nkhotakota Central MP Ayuba James, who is also a private-practice lawyer, says there is no need to replace English with vernacular languages.
“The Constitution requires MPs to read and speak English, meaning changing the rules needs a costly and complex constitutional amendment first. Moreover, legal and technical terms often lack direct equivalents in vernacular languages, raising the danger of ambiguity in laws and policies,” he states.
Middle path
Commentators say the fierce debate demands compromise, not total victory.
The solution? Unleash local languages across our villages for civic education and community outreach, but keep English as the strict, unifying voice on the parliamentary floor.
Across post-colonial Africa, language policy has long been a battlefield where identity clashes violently with practicality.
In Tanzania next-door, after independence, the Julius Nyerere-led government elevated Swahili as the sole language of Parliament and government business to forge a unified identity.
Yet, even that celebrated experiment has faced harsh realities. Despite decades of systemic integration, Tanzania’s formal parliamentary documentation and legal texts still rely heavily on English for precision.
The vision is compelling: a legislative chamber where Chichewa, Tumbuka, Yao, Lomwe, Sena, Tonga, Ngonde and other tongues echo across the floor, symbolising inclusivity and cultural pride.
Yet, beneath this romantic idea lie serious challenges.
The debate is not simply about language, but about identity, accessibility and governance.
The petition reminds Malawi of the importance of cultural pride and citizen participation. Yet, critics warn that the chamber must remain a place of clarity, efficiency and unity.
The push for vernacular languages in Parliament is a reminder that democracy is not only about laws, but also about belonging. Yet, the chamber must remain a place of clarity and cohesion.
