I WINCED when I heard the RTM commentator on live television mix up not one, not two, but three Asean leaders’ names during the recent summit coverage.
Judging from the flood of social-media comments that followed within hours, we can safely say half of the nation also felt embarrassed.
Some viewers laughed, some mocked, some created videos, and some were horrified.
But I felt something else – sympathy.
I believe many journalists have been there. More so for those who have spoken into a microphone or faced a camera crew.
They know that under pressure, even the most well-rehearsed tongue can trip or tie at times.
Still, confusing the names of three heads of government in one breath?
That’s quite a feat – unthinkable, yes, but undoubtedly, also very human.
I have never been in broadcasting journalism.
Live commentary is one of the toughest roles in broadcasting.
There is no edit button, there is no chance to re-record, and there is no producer who could whisper corrections fast enough through the earpiece for the commentator.
The mind of the commentator must juggle facts, names, protocols and timing, and has to sound calm and composed.
I suspect for this assignment, the commentator was selected for her crisp accent and confident tone, not for her familiarity with Asean’s leaders and titles.
However, I stand corrected.
In a studio far from the summit floor, names like Anwar Ibrahim, Lee Hsien Loong, Ferdinand Marcos Jr, or Hun Manet can blur together when you’ve not rehearsed even once.
In Asean, names and their leaders carry the pride of their nations and the identities of their respective cultures.
Therefore, getting them right is an act of respect.
After all, it is a gathering that celebrates regional unity.
Malaysia is the host country, and RTM is its national broadcasting house – all eyes are on us.
The issue is not one commentator’s slip of tongue; it is how well we prepare our people before sending them out to the field.
Are our broadcasters – especially those assigned to cover international events – properly briefed on who’s who?
Do they receive updated background notes, pronunciation guides, and photos of the attending leaders?
Or are they thrown into the studio minutes before airtime with a hastily-printed script and a directive to sound confident and speak good English?
Too often, decisions are made on the basis of presentation rather than preparation.
We want our hosts to sound polished – preferably with a British or American accent to impress – but we sometimes forget that knowledge, not accent, is what gives commentary credibility.
This incident took me back to my own newsroom’s ‘baptism of fire’.
When I first joined The Borneo Post as a translator, my job was to translate Chinese news into English.
One day, an unfortunate error slipped through – a prominent businessman’s name was printed wrongly.
By pure accident, the misprint sounded exactly like a vulgar language in Foochow dialect.
To this day, I don’t know whose fault it was – mine, the typist’s, or the proof-reader’s.
Back then, we had no computers.
I wrote on a notepad; the typist would type it out; and that was that.
To mistake a handwritten ‘u’ as ‘a’ was acceptable, but the consequence was serious – the businessman was furious.
He cancelled all his advertisements with the newspaper.
I waited nervously for the big scolding that never came.
My chief editor, a kind and seasoned young man, called me in and simply said: “Learn from it. Every word has weight.”
That incident left an imprint. It taught me that accuracy was not about perfection; it’s about respect: for the reader, for the subject, and for the profession.
A truly good commentator provides context, empathy and accuracy – tasks required by a good journalist too.
They must know why an event matters, who’s speaking, and what the audience needs to understand at that moment.
Misnaming someone is a sign that we do not care enough to learn.
The real test is whether we learn from them, and whether our institutions give us the tools to do better next time.
I imagine that poor commentator – voice trembling slightly, sweat forming under the studio lights – realising halfway through the sentence that she’d swapped two leaders’ names, then three.
Once a mistake is made on live air, it’s impossible to undo.
The only thing you can do is keep your voice steady and pray no one would notice.
But unfortunately, social media users pick up mistakes readily.
It is easy to mock from the safety of our living rooms, but it’s difficult to stand where she stood, representing the voice of the nation, with no mercy for any mistake made.
Perhaps what this moment really exposed wasn’t incompetence, but a lack of investment in preparation – a symptom of a wider industry problem: undertraining, understaffing, and under-mentoring.
It reminded me at a recent dialogue of international and local media with the Prime Minister.
When I introduced myself as being from The Borneo Post, he smiled and looked into my eyes and said: “Ah, I was just on the phone with Modi.”
For a second, I didn’t quite know what to say – I certainly had nothing to do with the Indian Prime Minister!
But his quip stayed with me. My colleague, who was standing next to me, heard the same thing.
I did not get the Prime Minister wrong.
If our national broadcaster could mix up three Asean leaders, perhaps it’s time we put more thought into the small things that would actually mean a lot, like teaching young journalists not just how to speak, but what they are speaking about.
Teach them to get prepared before entering the field, be it a live broadcast, or an interview session.
So yes, hold our media accountable – but remember the human behind the microphone.
The answer isn’t ridicule. It is retraining, mentoring, and building a culture that prizes knowledge as much as eloquence.
Perhaps instead of laughing at the commentator, we could ask ourselves: how well do we know our Asean neighbours?
Could we recognise all 10 leaders (ok, with the addition of Timor-Leste, it is now 11) by face, or flag if asked on the spot?
The commentator’s mistake will fade from memory soon enough, but the lesson should remain – preparation is respect.
In every newsroom, studio and government press team, we need to remind ourselves that accuracy is not an afterthought.
Whether you speak with an accent from London, Los Angeles, or Sarawak, the soul of communication is understanding.
And so it goes – one commentator’s stumble has, perhaps, reminded us of something far more important: in a region built on friendship and diplomacy, getting names right isn’t just about pronunciation.
It’s about pride, empathy, and the simple human respect that keep the Asean spirit alive.
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