What he didn’t say
By John Nery, Philippine Daily Inquirer

Lat week, a series of editorials in the Inquirer discussed various aspects of President Benigno Aquino III’s first State of the Nation Address, starting with a piece entitled “What he said.”

I would like to respond to that first editorial by writing about what President Aquino did not say—in the obvious hope that what he left out proves to be as revealing, of his frame of mind if not of his priorities, as what he left in.

He did not say anything in English. To be sure, there were the occasional terms—“deficit,” “billion,” “trillion,” “Calamity Fund,” “payroll,” “bonuses and allowances,” a collation of which should prove to be an interesting index—but contrary to what his spokesmen said we should expect, the address was almost entirely in Filipino. Except for the introductory salutation, there were no passages written in English, aimed directly at the international community or designed as a sound bite for foreign TV consumption. It was a refreshing change from the language tokenism of previous SONAs, where Filipino was deployed primarily for theatrical purposes. In fact, I got the sense (from reading the inept official English version, among other hints) that the thinking for the SONA was done in Filipino.

He did not say anything about the Freedom of Information Act. Of the many policies Aquino was expected to advance but left unsaid, this was the most inexplicable. Declining to talk about the fate of Hacienda Luisita was unfortunate, but at least it could be justified as an act of deference to the judiciary, where cases are pending.

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Not about the Sona
By Jenny Ortuoste, Manila Standard-Today

This is not about President Noynoy Aquino’s recent State-of-the-Nation Address. That’s been analyzed and de-constructed from Batanes to Jolo and back by other pundits. This column is about the theory of linguistic relativity —that language shapes the way we think and acquire knowledge, and thereby forms our culture as well.

Linguisitic Relativity is also known as the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, and states that the structure of a culture’s language determines the behavior and habits of thinking in that culture. In her recent Wall Street Journal article, Stanford University psychology professor Lera Boroditsky gives examples. “Russian speakers, who have more words for light and dark blues, are better able to visually discriminate shades of blue. Some indigenous tribes say north, south, east, and west rather than left and rights, and as a consequence have great spatial orientation. The Piraha, whose language eschews number words in favor of terms like ‘few’ and ‘many’, are not able to keep track of exact quantities.”

Boroditsky says about the new research in the field, “It turns out that if you change how people talk, that changes how they think. If people learn another language, they inadvertently also learn a new way of looking at the world. When bilingual people switch from one language to another, they start thinking differently, too.”

How is this significant for Filipinos? Let’s look at the word dilihensiya. It’s been said that much is lost in translation —there nuances of meaning are often untranslatable.

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Filipino, symbol of national unity
Speech by Gemiliano C. Lopez Jr.

The existence of a national language in one country promotes national unity and geographic and political solidarity. It is for this reason that a search for a national linguistic symbol began in the Philippines.

The issue of our national language has been in our history for the past 100 years. Indeed, the inhabitants of an archipelago like ours – with over a hundred languages – need a common language with which they can communicate with each other and express themselves as a people of one nation.

The national language issues has been an emotional one. Actually, our country had already succeeded in choosing Tagalog as its national language – only to reject it later after its cultivation and propagation, in order to renew the search for a national language and its development once more.

Thankfully, the adoption of our national language has been achieved peacefully, unlike in some other countries like Sri Lanka, Belgium, and Canada, where the language issue has provoked civil wars. Indeed, we have succeeded where other countries have not.

For instance, India never had a national language. Neither the Constitution of India nor Indian law specifies a national language. Article 343 of the Indian Constitution simply states that the official language of the Union shall be Hindi Devanagari script.

And so, while India may boast of being home to many major languages of the world, this abode of languages, ironically, it does not have a national language of its own.

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The evolution of language
John E. Peterson, The Emporia Gazette

How our language has evolved from other languages is very interesting to me. It would be of some interest to everyone, I would think, if they knew about it and thought about it. I would tell you just a bit about it, if I had my way.

Much of all modern languages in Europe evolved from Latin and Greek. And our American English, of course, came from England. But we got parts of it from other places, too. The one story I want to tell illustrates that.

One other comment before I tell my story. The meaning of a word for us may be different than was the meaning of the same word in the original language, but it probably derived from some related aspect of the original.

That is the case with the word “berserk.” The word comes from the Swedish language. In Swedish, it means “bear skin.” But in our English language, it means “Into a state of violent rage or frenzy.” How did it happen that there are such dramatic differences for the same word in the two languages?

That brings me to my story. I have told this story long ago in one of these columns. Then, however, I was telling about the hallucinogenic effects of a mushroom. Now, I am telling about how the same word came to have two such different meanings in our two languages.

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A Palin gender gaffe for the ages
BY Jerry K. Remmers, The ModerateVoice.com

Sarah Palin has enough trouble “refudiating” the English language. Now she has a gender gaffe with the Spanish language. On Fox News Sunday, Palin said Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer has cojones.

Really? The literal translation of cojones is a male’s testicles. In American slang, a common usage is referring cojones to a male’s machoism meaning he has the guts to make a stand-up decision. Whether that definition applies to women, I rather doubt it, but to be generous to Mrs. Palin, the term does get bastardized in English translation.

“Jan Brewer has the cojones that our president does not have,” she said on Fox. “If our own president will not enforce our federal law, more power to Jan Brewer.”

Recently she butchered her own native tongue with this comment:

“Ground Zero Mosque supporters: doesn’t it stab you in the heart, as it does ours throughout the heartland? Peaceful Muslims, pls refudiate.” –a Tweet by Sarah Palin, which she quickly removed after being ridiculed for inventing the word “refudiate,” July 18, 2010

It is not for me to repudiate Palin. I can live with the soundbites she is so clever at injecting in our public discourse. The “death panels” in health care, the description of independent, conservative hockey moms and “mama Grizzlies” all strike a chord.

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With American lingo, we’ve imported toxic US culture
By Andrew Herrick, The Sydney Morning Herald

We venerate Gallipoli, but have adopted “'try-hard”' as derogatory.

Border security is high on the agenda since so much is apparently at threat. But what about the security of our language? What does it mean to speak Australian? Do we have a native tongue? Should we care if we lose it? If words have meaning and give meaning to our world, what does speaking them say about Australia today?

Linguists see language melding and invention as natural. But new words and terms don't always enrich our lexicon - sometimes they replace other words; even deliberately. Native speech is the first cultural artefact targeted in ethnic cleansing, typically by prohibiting its teaching to children. And yet, here in Australia, wide-eared Australians besotted in particular by Americanese consign their mother tongue to the op-shop bin of cultural memory.

Often the difference is subtle. “Sandpit” becomes “sandbox,” and “blackboard,” “chalkboard.”

Even a language bastion such as ABC radio has allowed its presenters to replace “peak hour” with “rush hour.” We barely notice the change.

But then teenagers come out with “flashlight,” “sidewalk” and “buddy,” and you realise they are not just among us, “they-R-us.”

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To err is humane
By Dr. Lim Chin Lam, The Malaysian Star

I have previously written about typos and gaffes encountered in our English-language dailies. Recently (MOE, June 23), Hau Boon Lai, a man after my own heart, wrote on common mistakes to be expected in the print media.

To be fair to the media, typos and gaffes are not all of local origin. Some of these come with copy from foreign news agencies. What are we to make of the situation? Do we despair? Do we follow the example of a friend of mine who was so riled that he cancelled his subscription to the local papers. I do not think we should follow suit. Instead the newspapers, with gaffes and all, can serve as lessons in English – and as a source of unintended humour.

I shall follow up with examples gleaned from our local dailies – The Star, New Straits Times and The Sun. I assure readers that I do not comb the papers specifically to winkle out the mistakes. The mistakes on their own stick out like a sore thumb – sorry, inappropriate analogy; they stick out like red flags.

Typos

Typos are typographical errors. They are obvious, involving spelling, omission of words, etc. They are sometimes referred to as “careless mistakes” (i.e. mistakes due to carelessness).

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Malaysian educational system needs revamp
By Lucille Dass, The Star.my

So much has been said by so many. Educators—past and present—continue to fill these pages with substantial comments, concerns, opinions and suggestions, that repeatedly and singularly underscore a plea-mantra: review-revamp-reinvent-refresh for an improved education system.

Given the centrality of education to the making of a sober and robust nation, passionate educators feel concerned that the purpose of education has gone awry and should be brought on track, like ... yesterday.

Indeed, we should be courting a “systemic change and not a piecemeal” quick-fix-it reactionary approach any more.

There is much sense to be made of the education-related content continually contained in these pages. Content that is time-sensitive, relevant, real-world requirement material, and refreshing. The key to all this is an openness to UNDERSTAND what it means to “educate” a person.

A cross-check with our National Philosophy of Education will reveal how we have veered off course. En route to realising the national project towards developed status, the nature of our education system suggests that we have not been keen investors in the potential development of our most important resource – the human resource.

Character development is an integral part of education. To partially quote Charles Read, “Sow a character and you reap a destiny.” Whither our destiny in the light of recent happenings?

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English, in danger? That’s mad as a box of frogs
By Elizabeth Renzetti, TheGlobeandMail.com

Not long after I moved to London, I found myself in a supermarket aisle engaged in a frustrating one-sided conversation with a shop employee over where to find the clear plastic stuff used to wrap sandwiches. It ended with me barking, “Saran Wrap! Where’s the Saran Wrap?’’ while she looked at me blankly. It was like a two-person play called Helen Keller Meets the Insane Shouty Woman, and the intermission (sorry, that should be “interval’’) came when a kindly English lady whispered to the shop girl, “I think she’s looking for the cling film, dear.’’

The same thing happened when, after cutting a finger, I yelped for a Band-Aid and was confronted by a sea of puzzled stares. Finally someone said, “Oh, you want a plaster.’’ I refrained from saying, “Yes – was the spouting arterial blood your first clue?’’

“How can you hope to tame English? Isn’t it the Ellis Island of languages, absorbing new arrivals without fear or favour? Move over, zeitgeist and schadenfreude; make room for the Bengali newcomer, nang. ”

Of course, plaster is much more refined than Band-Aid. It was a potent reminder that we share a language, but the subtleties of its use divide us as much as unite us, and that those differences are as powerful identifiers as the shibboleths of old. The British are defiantly from the land of Pope and Keats, and we should remember that we’re from the land of indiscriminately capitalized brand names.

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