[Mb-civic] Words And Music - Alaka M. Basu - Washington Post Op-Ed

William Swiggard swiggard at comcast.net
Sat Apr 8 04:54:02 PDT 2006


Words And Music
<>
By Alaka M. Basu
The Washington Post
Saturday, April 8, 2006; A23

Early this year, at a special U.S. University Presidents Summit on 
International Education, President Bush unveiled the National Security 
Language Initiative. This is a $114 million grouping of new federal 
initiatives intended to address the nation's need for foreign-language 
speakers. The goal is to dramatically increase the number of Americans 
learning such critical languages as Arabic, Chinese, Russian, Hindi and 
Farsi.

This project reminds me of a book I read recently, "The Piano Tuner," by 
Daniel Mason, in which the central character seeks and makes peace in 
late 19th-century Burma with music instead of guns. I want to believe 
the language initiative also is at least partly motivated by an interest 
in more nonviolent tools of negotiation, although I much prefer the word 
"conversation" to "negotiation."

Negotiation through music is a wonderful idea, but not available to most 
of us. So, as university teachers and administrators of international 
studies programs, we are being urged to think about other ways in which 
higher education can respond to today's global climate. One of the most 
important challenges, we are told, is the woeful lack of proficient 
speakers of many of the newly important languages of the world. This is 
turning out to be a major handicap in the country's ability to develop a 
globally competent citizenry and workforce. But even more so, it is 
believed to be compromising "national strategic needs." It's not for 
nothing that the language initiative is being sponsored by the 
departments of State and Defense (although the Education Department 
later jumped in with a fact sheet about the current state of 
foreign-language training in the United States and what it plans to do 
about this dismal situation).

At meetings to discuss ways of increasing the numbers of university 
graduates who acquire more than a working knowledge of these newly 
important languages (especially what are called the LCTLs, or least 
commonly taught languages), we talk about all kinds of strategies to 
achieve this end -- more fellowships for foreign-language learning, more 
fellowships for travel abroad to hone language skills, training more 
"heritage speakers" to teach a language, the introduction of foreign 
languages other than French, Spanish and German at much earlier stages 
of the education process. We also discuss the matter of increasing and 
publicizing the returns from foreign-language learning: the tangible 
returns (more and better-paying job prospects), the intellectual ones 
(greater ability to understand a foreign culture) and the moral ones 
(increased ability to do one's patriotic duty).

But we say nothing about the biggest incentive and the biggest return of 
all: the love affair that can develop between a student of a foreign 
language and the language itself. If I taught a language, I would begin 
by evoking the beauty of the very sounds of a particular language. 
Indeed, listen to the sound of even the name of an unfamiliar language 
-- Pashtun, Swahili, Zulu, Dogri. Merely saying the names aloud makes 
one want to know more.

Then think of the meaning of some of the words and phrases in these new 
languages. Think of the word for dusk in Hindi -- godhuli , which 
translates literally into "the dust kicked up by cows coming home from 
pasture."

I speak from experience. My love affair with the English language began 
many years ago in a small town in India, thanks to a Welsh nun who went 
beyond the multiplication tables and the habits of termites to teach us 
to "listen" to the language, to breathe in the sounds and meanings of 
the words it was made of.

Sister Aquinas's methods were so effective that even today I feel faint 
as I contemplate the beauty of simple words like "clandestine," 
"rendering" and "implore." I keep trying to change the course of a 
conversation to be able to use such words legitimately.

"Clandestine" and "implore" are perfect sounding words. Then there are 
all the perfect meaning words and phrases of the English language that 
also make me weak in the knees -- words such as "meander," "wilt" and 
"epiphany" and phrases such as "liquid eyes" and "straitened circumstances."

I am so susceptible to the charms of the English language that I find it 
difficult to chastise an erring student who peppers her apology with 
words like "contrite," "remorseful" and "wretched." Last night, I 
couldn't even get angry at the shop assistant who served me badly. Why? 
Because he had said "farewell" rather than "good night" to the customer 
ahead of me.

By the same token, some newly infatuated expert in Arabic might refuse 
to help in a cross-examination at Guantanamo, and a handful of freshly 
minted experts in one language or another might even end up marrying 
Tajik or Azerbaijani people. But these are risks worth taking in return 
for a body of experts who have so drenched themselves in the delights of 
a foreign language that they want to sound indistinguishable from the 
natives.

The writer is associate professor of sociology and director of the South 
Asia program at Cornell University.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/04/07/AR2006040701736.html
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