Bridging the linguistic divide for more inclusive workplaces

Ride on a big city metro system at the height of rush hour, and you’ll likely hear an array of languages spoken between passengers. For some, this is a phenomenon to be celebrated – an indicator of diversity and inclusion, where people from all walks of life can safely commute to and from work and contribute to the nation’s economy. But in other places, not so much.

Language is often a basis for exclusion, discrimination, and conflict in society. For those familiar with Canadian history, tensions between English and French settlers might come to mind, to say nothing of the countless Indigenous languages that were suppressed due to oppressive colonial policies. And to this day, similar stories play out around the world, where language can be a driver of racism and, in some cases, war.

“We tend to forget that language is a very important dimension of diversity and identity,” said Anna Kim, Associate Professor in Management for Sustainability at McGill University. Like gender and race, it’s an identifier that can be used against someone in society and in the workplace.

Management scholars have been slow to explore this phenomenon, said EunJoo Koo, Assistant Professor in Sustainable Business at the University of Lethbridge. Language is treated more as a skill to be learned than a marker of diversity. But this perspective doesn’t account for workers who experience exclusion and discrimination because of their linguistic roots. Someone who speaks English with an accent might be treated differently by her English colleagues, resulting in any number of negative outcomes, such as lost advancement opportunities.

“Language has to be part of the conversation,” said Koo.

This is an important gap in management research – one that Koo and Kim are trying to fill with their recent study. They examined the interactions among three groups at a bank in Kazakhstan: Russian-speaking (i.e. Russophone) monolingual bankers, Kazakh-speaking (i.e. Kazakhophone) bilingual language workers, and Russophone bilingual bankers who spoke both Russian and Kazakh. Although everyone was fluent in Russian and conducted their work in Russian, their proficiency and willingness to communicate in Kazakh varied.

While Russophone monolingual bankers and Kazakhophone language workers (e.g., secretaries, translators) differed significantly in ethnicity, first language, and workplace rank, the Russophone bilingual bankers shared intersecting characteristics with both. As tensions around language use grew in society from the 1990s onwards, Koo and Kim examined how these tensions evolved within the bank, played out among the groups, and were eventually resolved over time.

Across the linguistic divide

Language is a big issue in Kazakhstan, rooted in a long and complicated history with Russia. From 1917, when Kazakhstan was part of the Soviet Union, Russian became the primary language for higher education, professional occupations, social mobility, and conducting business. Meanwhile, Kazakh was perceived as an informal language, primarily spoken among family members, and often associated with negative connotations such as being rural or unprofessional.

“There was this whole perception that if you want bread on the table, you have to speak Russian,” said Koo.

As ethnic Kazakhs were educated in Russian during the Soviet period, Kazakhstan inherited a culturally and linguistically Russified population at the time of its independence in 1991. Nevertheless, the Kazakh language had always remained an important symbol of identity for ethnic Kazakhs, even under Soviet rule. Reflecting its symbolic and cultural significance, the government declared Kazakh the official language in 1997 and initiated efforts to revive the language. And now, against the backdrop of the Ukraine war, the Kazakh government continues to make moves to bolster the use of its national language.

This is the context in which Koo and Kim conducted their research. They traced the evolution of language at a Kazakhstani bank from the 1990s to the mid-2010s. In the beginning, the Russophone bankers insisted on using only Russian in the workplace, telling Kazakhophone language workers not to speak Kazakh during work hours.

“In the 1990s, language workers would be literally reprimanded or warned about their job security if they had spoken in Kazakh,” said Kim. “That’s about as exclusionary as you can get.”

But as Kazakhstan’s sociolinguistic profile changed and the use of Kazakh became more widespread, the dynamic within the bank also evolved. For example, by the early 2000s, the bank integrated Kazakh into its services as a growing number of Kazakh-speaking customers pressured the bank to incorporate the language in its operations.

This clashed with the predominant idea that Russian is the preferred language for business. With the growing importance of the Kazakh language in society, as well as the frustrations mounting within the bank, language workers began to exert subtle pressure on Russophone bankers to incorporate Kazakh into their daily conversations.

Although the use of Kazakh remained minimal, often limited to a brief greeting from Russophones before they quickly switched back to Russian, such practices represented a marked shift from earlier attitudes towards Kazakh. This helped foster a sense of belonging among Kazakhophone language workers in the bank, explained Koo. A “hello” in Kazakh signalled recognition and respect, a way for Russophones to say, “I see you.”

“The role of the in-between group is extremely important,” said Koo, referring to the Russophone bilingual bankers, who shared intersecting characteristics (such as ethnicity and cultural identity) with both Russophone monolingual bankers and Kazakhophone bilingual language workers. They walked the line between Russian and Kazakh identities and could thus act as a bridge towards acceptance of Kazakh as a whole.

For Kim, this is an example of how workplaces can become sites of togetherness and overcoming sociolinguistic differences. Despite government policies to promote the use of Kazakh, Russian was still considered a “high status” language in businesses across the country. But here, at this bank, small employee interactions helped bring Kazakh back into business, fostering a more inclusive environment, helping speakers find a home at their place of work.