Lingua et Obsessio

Some are fascinated by mechanics of machines and objects - the multitudes of structure and design and operation. There are those consumed by visual art or music and the pursuit of expression with ink, paint, film, sound, etc. I too am drawn to these, but really, there is only one enduring obsession: language.

The captivating banality of language is the way in which it is totally routine, yet completely informs our relation with the world without forcing our awareness to the ways in which it does so. When I speak my first language, I don’t think about how it constantly coerces my worldview. The views come together as the words emerge from neural impulses like beams rapidly penetrating a fog. 

There is little friction finding words and the latency if, there is any, is virtually unnoticeable. The things I see around me are matched to corresponding sounds and there is an easily retrievable sound for everything I encounter. Most of the time, the sound is available before I’m even ready to utter it. 

My experiences weave through the architecture of my language. There are social and cultural forces at work too, but these are also welded into the language because the mechanics of language become the mechanics of thought and social connection, and language has unique concerns. 

Every language has values - things it cares about - and these things form the construction of the language as a system for deeper expression. The grammar functions as a formal guide for this, but languages really evolved out of human need to transmit information, so looking at the inner components is where we can see the things languages really care about. 

Here are a few examples: 

Languages that use a case system - where nouns and articles change depending on their role in the type of sentence (Russian, German, Greek, Romanian, and many others) - express specificity of objects and roles by changing certain key words entirely. Masculine, feminine, and neuter articles and nouns are also popular in these and in many languages without cases.

Some Romance languages have two verbs for ‘to be’, ’to know’, and ‘to have’, conveying a value for precision and a distinction for place and being, knowledge, location, acquaintance, possession, and existence. French, however, is an outlier with only one 'to be' : être.

Greek, for instance, has several words for time (kronos), such as: χρόνος, χρόνια, ώρα, εποχή, φορά. The first pertains to a general concept and the others some variation of duration, period, seasons, instances and occasions. This linguistic feature informs a cultural appreciation and fascination with time. 

Many languages also feature formal and informal methods of addressing someone depending on level of acquaintance and social context. 

German has du and Sie. French has tu and vous. Both, interestingly, designate the formal singular ‘you’ using the plural formal ‘you’. Spanish uses tu and usted. In Spain, formal/informal also extends to the plural ‘you’ - ustedes, which is considered more formal. The plural vosotros(as) is used in informal contexts. The latter, however, isn’t used in Latin America - simply ustedes. 

Portuguese goes one step further and reserves tu for strictly informal, familiar, or age specific contexts, uses você for slightly more formal, transactional, or new greetings, and o/os senhor(es) / a/as senhora(as) for highly formal or official contexts where a good deal of respect is to be given. However, in Brazil, the você form is commonly preferred over tu in everyday speech. 

Japanese and Korean have complex honorifics that change the language to navigate you through social hierarchies like age, status, profession / roles, and relationships. The formal/informal binary is much more nuanced, intricate, and context specific.

In each of these, the language is still just an information transmission tool, but the values expressed direct the cultural attitudes and thinking. 

When I speak in Spanish, I’m more aware of how I address others, the details of the sentence are more refined, there is often more specificity communicated with fewer words - such as number and gender, many verbs have multiple meanings, so there is a flexibility in word choice, but more decisions are sometimes required up front and context is very important. The ultimate message is the same as it would be in English, but the recipe to get there is different.

Language is extraordinary in how ordinary it is. It's just patterns of sounds, but is deep and rich, modest, yet complex and boldly expressive.

Learning language, for me, has been a portal to connection with others. Its not always smooth or comfortable, but it works because it’s among the most human things I can do. Learning language is an exercise in humanity, and it should be approached as such. Grammar and rules have a role and eventually you should read the docs of a language, but they’re not the most important part of language.

The most important part is connection. We speak and write to connect and share something. When you learn to speak someone else’s language - even as a beginner - there is something significant that transcends informational exchange. 

You are entering someone else’s world and this forces you to exchange your rules and expectations for theirs; to find humility from the depth and nuances of struggling to express yourself; to be unaffected by obstacles in speech and simply navigate around them - there’s always another way of saying something; and to see language as a object of many dimensions, coming to view your own native language as just one of many available vectors - no better, no worse, only different. 

You may discover unique characteristics of your first language that you cherish and features from another language that you wish yours had. The sense of wonder is endless and the rewards are many. So, quomodo obsessi es? 

essays