
Beyond labels
Sunday, 02 Aug 2026

Nationality vs ethnicity: Chinese tourists taking a wefie outside the Penang Peranakan Mansion in Church Street, George Town. What people who aren’t from China may not realise is that China is also ethnically diverse, says the writer. — LIM BENG TATT/The Star
EVERY day, we casually refer to people as Chinese, Indian, Russian, American, Japanese or British. These labels roll off the tongue so naturally that we seldom stop to ask what they actually mean. For decades, I have been fascinated by how the careless use of words often leads to careless thinking. The distinction between nationality and ethnicity is one such example.

Yet hidden within this everyday language lies one of the most common misconceptions about human identity.
Many assume these labels describe ethnic groups. In reality, they often describe nationalities. The difference matters more than most people realise.
Nationality and ethnicity are related, but they are not the same. Nationality usually refers to legal or political membership of a country. Ethnicity, on the other hand, generally refers to a community connected by shared ancestry, language, culture, history, or traditions. One is primarily political; the other is primarily cultural and historical.
Confusing these two concepts may appear harmless, but it often leads to mistaken assumptions about history, identity, and even our understanding of nations themselves.
Take China, for example. We frequently speak of “the Chinese” as though they constitute one homogeneous people. Yet China officially recognises 56 ethnic groups. While the Han form the majority, there are also Tibetans, Uyghurs, Zhuang, Hui, Mongols, Miao, Yi, and many others, each possessing distinct languages, traditions, and histories.
The same is true of India. Outside the country, we simply speak of “Indians”. But India is home to an extraordinary diversity of peoples. Tamils, Punjabis, Bengalis, Gujaratis, Kashmiris, Nagas, Mizos, and many other communities maintain their own languages, customs, and cultural identities. In some cases, neighbouring communities may not even share a common mother tongue.
Russia provides another illustration. Although ethnic Russians form the majority, the country is home to Tatars, Chechens, Bashkirs, Yakuts, Buryats, and dozens of other ethnic communities. Likewise, the United Kingdom consists of English, Scottish, Welsh, and Irish identities alongside many other communities that have become part of modern British society.
Even the United States demonstrates the distinction clearly. “American” is not an ethnicity in the conventional sense. It is a nationality that embraces people whose ancestral roots stretch across every inhabited continent. Their shared citizenship does not erase their ethnic diversity.
These examples remind us that countries are rarely built upon a single ethnic foundation. Rather, they are political communities made up of numerous cultural and historical groups living under a common system of government.
The misconception arises because language often simplifies reality. Saying “the Chinese” or “the Indians” is convenient. It is useful shorthand. But shorthand should never be mistaken for precise description.
History itself teaches us why.
The borders of today’s countries are relatively recent when compared with the long history of human civilisation. Kingdoms rose and fell. Empires expanded and collapsed. Borders shifted through wars, treaties, migration, and political change. Yet the communities living within those borders often remained remarkably diverse.
Human societies have always been more complex than the neat categories we use to describe them.
Understanding this distinction also helps us appreciate the richness of civilisation itself. Diversity within nations is not an exception. It is the historical norm.
This misunderstanding, however, does not remain confined to geography. It sometimes shapes how people think about history, politics, and even religion. When nationality and ethnicity become blurred, some begin to imagine that modern nation-states exist exclusively for one particular ethnic community, as though political borders and ethnic identity have always been identical.
History tells a different story.
Modern states are largely products of evolving political arrangements. Ethnic communities, by contrast, often predate those states by centuries or even millennia. The two frequently overlap, but they are seldom identical.
Recognising this distinction does not diminish anyone’s attachment to their country or their heritage. On the contrary, it allows us to appreciate both more accurately. One may cherish one’s nationality while also valuing one’s ethnic traditions. The two identities can comfortably coexist without being confused.
Perhaps the deeper lesson is that identity itself is layered.
A person may belong to a nation, inherit a particular ethnic tradition, speak several languages, practise a religion, and embrace a modern civic identity simultaneously. None of these identities necessarily replaces the others.
In an increasingly interconnected world, simplistic labels are becoming even less adequate. Migration, intermarriage, and globalisation continue to enrich societies in ways that make rigid classifications ever more difficult.
Our language should reflect that complexity rather than obscure it.
Words shape the way we think. When we use national labels as though they describe single ethnic groups, we unintentionally oversimplify humanity itself. That simplification may seem trivial, but it influences how we discuss history, politics, identity, and our place in the world.
Words shape thought, and thought shapes society. If we wish to have more intelligent conversations about history, politics, identity, and even religion, we must first use our words with precision. The passport we carry identifies our nationality; it does not define our ethnicity. Understanding that simple distinction may help us understand the world – and one another – a little better.
Senior lawyer Datuk Seri Dr Jahaberdeen Mohamed Yunoos is the founder and chairman of Yayasan Rapera, an NGO that promotes community-based learning activities and compassionate thinking among Malaysians. The views expressed here are entirely his own.