Between Custom and Language

On being used to language and language use

We like to think that we are free to choose what we will become – the way we act, the life we live. People want to imagine themselves as free and adaptable. Yet there are some customs that are inevitably forced upon us. A person’s religious affiliation is usually determined by background and education, political convictions are shaped by the convictions of family and friends. Nonetheless, we are – in principle – given opportunity to release even our most fundamental beliefs and to reorient ourselves as life proceeds and our character changes.

One exception to this is our mother tongue. Though our perspective on other languages, their beauty and expediency, may vary throughout our lives, our mother tongue occupies a privileged position in our personal conduct. Our native language is a significant cultural feature that is not at our disposal: no matter how many languages we learn, we are nevertheless unable to cut off the cultural and grammatical roots attached to our mother tongue or to trade it for another. Our mother tongue is one of the rare carriers of tradition that defies the leveling repercussions of globalization – not because it is the language spoken in the community we grew up in, but because of its lasting impact on our cultural and intellectual identity.

Consider the statement “Tell me with whom you’re going and I’ll tell you about who you are.” The company the statement alludes to must bear some longevity in order to have an actual influence on the individual in question. Loose coalitions and casual business acquaintances do not apply. Rather, it’s the people you spend your free time with. Constant friendship, marriage, and other lifelong commitments offer a much better indicator of personality because they draw upon mutual habituation and the formation of a collective identity. From this collective identity, then, individual character traits can be approximated.

Nowadays, however, the dynamics of social life seem to put an end to this sort of speculation. Today, we have fans of sport clubs or artists, and open source programming groups which are often globally connected through the internet. These modern forms of social alliances (the term “relationship” seems to be too demanding in this context) are sustained by web services enabling the public display of personality in terms of interests, taste, and so on. As a consequence, joining and parting groups is easier than ever before: a few mouse clicks suffice to begin or end a conversation or a membership. The question is not only whether the easiness with which we construct ourselves as social beings advances the process of finding ones cultural identity or alleviates cooperation among like-minded by minimizing social coercion. Instead it has to be asked whether the liberal tradition to which this easiness owes much of its spirit is at all capable of ensuring liaisons permanent enough to provide an individual with the safety required for free personal development. The answer to this is probably hard to come by. After all, it seems as though modern western societies freed themselves of many coercions which are likely to occur in rigidly organized societies at the expense of just this kind of relationship. Thus one method of developing personality has been replaced by another.

But has the liberalization of human relationships had some effect on our customs of language? At first sight, there appears to be no reason to assume that the purely cognitive customs bound to ones mother tongue, should be affected by the change of social customs. But a relation between these two kinds of customs can perhaps be found if an aspect of language is taken into account which has so far been neglected: the practice of language – both as cultural offset and as a collection of linguistic customs that define the speaker’s perspective on the world.

When an individual involuntarily acquires his mother tongue, he likewise learns how to use certain vocabulary in order to make true (or false) statements or to achieve a particular aim by making a performative utterance. The speaker doesn’t choose to have these customs, they are inherent to the language he learns first; moreover, the whole concept of what a word, a well-formed sentence, or a question is depends on his mother tongue, its structure and general capacity. Can we forget about these inner qualities of language? Not really, but we get distanced from them if we do not practice speaking, writing or even soliloquizing in it. At worst, these qualities subside into oblivion and what remains is some rudimentary grammar, basic vocabulary and the disappointing feeling that one might have discarded something almost trivial but fundamental.

This aggrievement, however, awaits compensation by the progression of practicing other languages. It seems as though the linguistic spaces that open up in one language are paid for by spatial losses in another. Acquiring a mother tongue is like joining a permanent and binding relationship – it is irrevocable and cannot be separated from the individual.

The modern European cannot be content with mastering only his mother tongue. This is in part due to the conditions naturally imposed by the uniting process and the adoption of common political, legal and economic aims. The modern European must be flexible and ought to switch seamlessly between a selection of European languages. Meanwhile it is taken for granted that children are taught in different languages at school and what was once held to be a burden among older generations – that language or mobility requirements would one day invade personal life – isn’t that frightening anymore.

Since many Europeans inhabit a mobile lifestyle, characterized not only by permanent stays abroad, they naturally inherit local customs by dealing with the local language. The import of such experiences creates an inter-cultural platform of communication. Everyone on this platform can refer to items of shared experience that are conveying precisely what is otherwise utterly colorless. The Finnish term “sisu”, for instance, might be translated to “grit” or explicated more thoroughly by describing what it takes for someone to have “sisu”. Nonetheless, people won’t have a full grasp of the concept until they have made some pertinent experiences. And as more and more people are able to enter this experiential platform, what started out as an expansion of ones personal ideolect soon becomes part of an intersubjective understanding of what Europe is (in the cultural sense).

When students spend a year at a university abroad, they tend to plan this time according to their academic interests and are encouraged to do so by the departments granting, for instance, Erasmus scholarships. This pattern closely resembles the liberalization of social relationships for it puts emphasis on individual interests and seeks to create an environment with as few coercive factors as possible. In the end, everyone benefits from this development – except language.

Exchange students, too, face strict time regulation imposed on their course of studies (especially by the recent pervasiveness of tuition fees). This restriction impedes the process of acquiring necessary language skills in a foreign language and thereby hinders students from being qualified to do their respective work in it. Finally, they resign and, in order to collect transfer credits, fall back on English. This linguistic escape is by no means a phenomenon of academia. English has become something like a second nature to many Europeans. It pops up in super markets, bars, and countless other places; it is the default language whenever someone wants to communicate in a common foreign language. Over time this solution became so convenient that, to some, it doesn’t even occur to “go the extra mile” and make an effort.

But does this entail that establishing English as a lingua franca, a language that should be mastered by every European, would have discouraging effects on people’s willingness to learn other European languages? Surely not; provided that they are convinced to learn these languages, however uncommon or unprofitable they might be. Yet, the enforcement that would result from the establishment of a lingua franca is contestable for it risks inhibiting the fair opportunity of other language communities.

This is not a point about learning English, but about accepting it as the most eligible for everyday usage. Adopting a lingua franca is like buying a supplementary house. Not a vacation home, but one built next to one’s primary place of living. Though this second home may have some advantages, you cannot inhabit both at a time.

Even if the change is hardly noticeable at first, the adoption of a lingua franca could cause some undesired side-effects. Speakers welcoming the new agreement might be so ambitious that they make tacit and erroneous identifications of synonymity or reference where it seems that a certain term can be directly translated and thus used to a similar end. The assumption that two languages overlap in this way can, if faulty, beset not only an individual’s understanding of a language but also larger parts of a language community. This is not to say that speakers who adopt a lingua franca different from their mother tongue are incapable of keeping them apart. Rather the power of custom combined with people’s openness towards English is so tempting as to take for granted what is, in fact, not: the confident and thoughtful use of a foreign language. Thus the prospect of having a common European language is even more dulled if one takes into account the enormous scope its use is supposed to cover. One doesn’t need a lingua franca for ordering a dessert or taking a cab, but to further and deepen communication, to express of complex thoughts, regardless of whether they are directed to history, culture, politics, philosophy or religion.

It is a monumental mistake to assume the task of verbalizing thoughts are neutral to the languages at ones disposal. Beneath the surface of its everyday interpretation every sentence reveals a secret that is wrapped into its concepts. These secrets are providing invaluable insights into the cultural identity of a language community and are threatened by egalitarian impacts likely brought on by the adoption of a lingua franca.

Some thoughts are naturally best expressed in a particular language. Some words broadcast sophisticated concepts that cannot be fully translated. For example, in English you might try to articulate the joy in another’s suffering, but this clumsy attempt cannot match the elegance or the deep psychological insight that a German-speaking individual will feel upon hearing the word Schadenfreude. But for these experiences to be recognized, a collective attitude of linguistic and cultural care is required. This is why they should be guarded against people’s inclination to report meanings of historically important concepts in inadequate terms. Giving priority to that kind of concern, however, is not a unidirectional effort that only benefits languages beside the lingua franca. Rather, the latter is supported not to undergo the major drawback of an artificially constructed language, namely to end up with historically blindsided concepts.

The main worry that ought to be met is that if one is not sufficiently aware of such things as the etymology or the structural features of ones mother tongue, the comparisons made to other languages either result in unthoughtful assimilation or misinterpretation. This way much of the cultural diversity is overridden for pragmatic reasons (in the linguistic as well as the informal sense of the word).

When it comes to European language policies, two extreme positions evolved over time whose members can be divided into two rival camps: one is advocating the utility of a unified auxiliary language like Esperanto while the other insists on the autonomy of each language and the importance of linguistic diversity. Trying to reconcile essential elements of both of these camps, a third approach has recently been proposed: Why not employ a bunch of different European languages simultaneously? Following this doctrine, texts may contain snippets from a variety of languages. It is supported by the simple observation that people’s bookshelves are populated with literature written in all kinds of languages, thus demonstrating the owner’s ability and inclination to at least occasionally leave the area of his or her mother tongue.

But does this likewise motivate reading something that consists of a patchwork of European languages? Probably not. Regardless of whether someone cares for a foreign language because of its semantical richness, its power of expression or simply its sound, none of these possible interests provides a reason to engage in this form of extreme multilingualism. Besides, the concerns impending on the adoption of a lingua franca appear to be even more acute if European languages are mingled together in this way. It is difficult to see how to maintain the coherence of a text if words translate but have different connotation or vary in meaning altogether. Thus it occurs that the idea of taking languages from different sources in order to consolidate all European languages leads away from its original goal and might even increase confusion – a Babylonian aberration.

The language we are using does not exist merely as a part of culture as do arts or music. Rather our languages are what culture is based on, a prerequisite for cultural development. Especially our mother tongue must be regarded as an integral part of the environment in which our creative, argumentative and aesthetic capabilities develop. Our personal vision of the correct usage of concepts is very much like a paradigm that is rooted in our customs. Moreover the shared uses constituting the intersubjective platform of a language society are subject to a disposition allowing for and offering correction where needed. This is exactly where the problems discussed above are likely to arise.

If the idea of a lingua franca is to live up to its full potential, solutions to these predicaments need to be found. Otherwise the adoption of a lingua franca will always be discussed as a matter of conscience, provoking sentiments of reluctance instead of introducing comparative perspectives.

Picture: © Lee Bacon, 2007