Thursday, May 18, 2006

another jewel from Fresh Air

May 18, 2006 · Linguist GEOFF NUNBERG comments on the recent controversy surrounding the Spanish-language version of "The Star-Spangled Banner."

If I keep on this track, I'll have to join NPR anonymous:

"My name is Coye, and I'm an NPR-aholic."


But I'm not driving a Volvo.

29 comments:

Coye said...

Well, I noticed that the Senate passed a bill today that would make English the official national language of the United States. (Buch of spineless, vote-grubbing, xenophobic, reactionary bastards.) I guess that after 230 years we really need to make sure that those Germans and French and Swiss and Italians and Poles don't try to speak their native languages. Oh, wait, we didn't care about them... they weren't brown enough to merit congressional action. What is wrong with this congress? Why do they feel the need to pass legislation officially excluding everyone that isn't a rich white heterosexual man? Isn't defacto domination enough anymore? Guess not. [arrrrghhh!]

Stephen said...

you're wrong

Andrew said...

um... would you care to elaborate, Steve?

Andrew said...

On the subject of national anthems and English, I found this site which offers the national anthem of our country translated(!) into Morse code and binary. Amusing.

Stephen said...

Ok I'll elaborate. I'll say the exact opposite of everything Coye said, and it will probably be 100% correct. Let's try it as an experiment:

Well, I noticed that the Senate passed a bill the other day that would make English the official national language of the United States. (Bunch of bold, sincere, xenophilic, responsive legitimates.) I guess that after 230 years we really need to make sure that those Germans and French and Swiss and Italians and Poles don't try to speak their native languages. Oh, wait, we didn't have to... they learned to speak English. What is wrong with this thread's original poster? Why does he feel the need to pass judgment unofficially guilt-tripping everyone that is a rich white heterosexual man? Isn't artificially imposed affirmative action enough anymore? Guess not. [arrrrghhh!]

Okay that was just a light-hearted attempt to show how easy it is to spew out impassioned allegations against people whose motives you don't know well enough.

But on a more serious note: do you know of any other language that has come as close to becoming a second language in America as Spanish? If not, then can you justifiably play the race card?

On a more personal note: I don't feel offended at all that the national language of Japan is Japanese. Instead of expecting them to rearrange their society to accommodate a foreigner like me, I adapt to their ways, including learning Japanese (when in Rome...). America has the same prerogative.

On a less relevant note: Spanish, too, is a 'white' man's language imposed on 'brown' people.

Andrew said...

Historically, I would imagine that the official language of this could also have been French or German—but for the French and Indian war in the 1750s, the French probably would have owned just as much territory (or more) than the British. In fact, a little search of Wikipedia
(a resource that I never let my students use, but that is useful for random information nonetheless) reveals that French remained the most popular foreign language in the United States all the way up until the 1980s, when it was replaced by Spanish.

Other fun language facts:
Pennsylvania had two official languages until the 1950s—English and German.
Three states are still officially bilingual: Louisiana (English and French), Hawaii (English and Hawaiian), and New Mexico (English and Spanish).
One American territory is officially trilingual: the Northern Mariana Islands have English, Chamorro and Carolinian as their official languages.

More sobering linguistic facts:
Before Columbus, approximately 300 languages were actively spoken in North America, and now nearly half of those are extinct. The Foundation for Endangered Languages, an organization that works to prevent the linguistic homogenization of the world, projects that only 20 of those 300 original indigenous North American languages will be actively spoken in just 50 years. Crazy.

Coye said...

Um... I don't know that following Japan's model of dealing with foreigners is the best idea. Japan is easily one of the most racist countries in the world.

Coye said...

Current latino/a immigrants in America learn English faster than the Germans, Norweigans, etc of former waves of immigration (on average, 2 generations for latino/a immigrants as opposed to more than 3 generations for European immigrants last century). [Those stats are in the NPR piece I linked to in the original post.] And since anyone born on our soil is an American citizen, the second and third generations are Americans. [As opposed to Japan where 5th and 6th generation Korean immigrants are still "foreigners"; the Germans are also terrible on this account.] We Anglos can't say that this is OUR country and THEY should learn OUR language-- this is their country. They belong here and nowhere else. We have a moral obligation to not exclude them from their own homeland (even if it makes us feel threatened in ours). This may be our country, but it is not ours to the exclusion of it also being theirs. We would be better off dropping the US against THEM division altogether, rather than reifying it with legislation about a "national language" that was never necessary in this country of global immigrants.

And, by the way, there are a lot of Germans and French who still speak German and French as primary home languages (Andy mentioned Penn and Louisiana).

Dave said...

Here's two differnt views that we can add to the mix:

against bill
For Bill

Coye said...

I think it is worth noting that the proenglish website blames the "growing underclass" (also known as the disappearing middle class) on immigrants who speak other languages rather than economic policies and corporate practices that favor the already rich at the expense of the working class and middle class. It provides a hint at what this legislation is largely about: a red herring to take attention away from issues like the millions of children (English-speaking American-born citizens) who don't have access to proper health care or a decent eduation. We wouldn't want to talk about those issues in an election year!

Dave said...

To run a bit of a Stevesque experiment, tell me how you respond to this--and why?

How about the opression of the structurally disenfranchised?
For, indeed, this kind of opression is terrible for anyone experiencing it--yes. However, it is part of the socio-structural development process and has been throughout America's history. One can't have the open barrel of the open market unless there is, so to speak, the bottom of the barrel where things get crushed. Oppression is one of the key symbolic actions found in any culture. If you look to the past you will find the same sorts of oppression issues that we are addressing today. Nothing has changed. Getting angry about this is about as useful as getting angry about gravity.

What do you think? Am I being totally unfair? If so, why?

Coye said...

I almost wrote essentially the same thing earlier today, but mine wasn't as good as Dave's, so I'm glad I waited. Translation: Amen, Dave. Amen. The fact that something happens now or historically happened does not mean that is should happen or necessarily must happen.

Andrew said...

So Grady, out of curiosity about your current book project (which sounds like pretty interesting work to be doing, by the way)--how will your textbook treat the issue of xenophobia? Will it endorse this social phenomena as much as your post implies? What would a more historically-nuanced argument look like?

Coye said...

and that's the problem with Hegel

Dave said...

Grady. First, I'd love to buy a copy of your book when you're finished. In fact, I think we should all make a promise to buy, read, and discuss any book that any one of us writes over the years (seeing as books are more than bit more painful and rewarding to read and write than blog posts).

Second, if you don't mind, I'd like you to spell out for me what, if anything, is wrong with my treatment of structural oppression from within your framework?

Dave said...

So are we actually progressing to a point? Some "good" out there in the future? It seems like you are construing a social world in which "progress" is the central hope--progress toward a point, a social eschalon. Even if it isn't a "point" as such, you still seem to be operating with a model where the value of the product (even if construed as ongoing) outweighs the value of individuals in the social process.

All that to say, I see major discontinuities between the way you are speaking and the way the Biblical prophets speak about society and the oppressed. Would you say that's a fair assessment? If so, does this bother you?

Coye said...

Hmmmm.... I'm not sure about morality equating civility (I'm not even sure that's what you meant, though it does sort of read like that), but I take your point seriously that a certain amount of charity or civility is necessary to carry on a discussion about ethical issues-- or anything, for that matter. If I were going to offer a summary definition of ethics (something I think can be very dangerous), I would say that it consists in openness to the Other, in welcoming the unexpected stranger, in placing them before yourself (a view consonant with Judaism, Christianity, Islam and "postmodernism"). The problem, as Levinas points out [in "God and Philosophy", I think... maybe "Peace and Proximity"] is that there are other Others (third parties, etc). How do I fulfill my responsibility to multiple Others, especially when there is a conflict between them? According to Levinas, this question is the founding myth of true democracy (not Hobbes' self-preservation or Locke's property obsession), and it is the first question of ethical politics. As a political actor, I never escape responsibility to all of my others, and I should be able to tone down the rhetoric and have a reasonable debate about an issue while extending charity to those who don't agree with me about the issue (especially if I want to achieve any practical results). That does not mean that I should not be angry at the oppression I see taking place in front of my face and in my name. Quite frankly, I think we should be mad about our country's current wave of reactionary xenophobia. The federal government (along with a number of states) has spent the last five years reinforcing and institutionalizing the rejection of non-whites, the poor, homosexuals and just about anyone who doesn't fit into the narrow range of a relatively affluent white America. That is offensive. We should be offended. We should be able to give our opponents the benefit of the doubt and engage them resonably and charitably, but that doesn't mean that what they are doing isn't really, really terrible. We must be able to move past anger and accusation, but I'm not convinced that civility is always and everywhere the acceptable moral reaction. Sometimes outrage is appropriate.

Andrew said...

Grady, it seems to me that several of the comments here center around trying to understand this statement:

“Furthermore, I think that oppression is, in fact, a potentially useful tool, just as xenophobia can be. I am not arguing that these things are intrinsically good, only that they may serve a social purpose and thus eventually become a good. I am personally opposed to the current xenophobia being exhibited by much of middle America, not because xenophobia is bad, but because it is becoming less useful in our context.”

You propose a strictly utilitarian model of social action in which everything is permissible so long as it participates in progress (a term that it might be useful for you to define). Interestingly, the questions Dave, Coye and I have posed are actually quite similar, and I might take the liberty of restating them around the issues you raise.

In Coye’s terms: if oppression, xenophobia and other acts/attitudes that seem to be unethical are actually the tools for building a better society (or, in your words, “Xenophobia is terrible for anyone experiencing it, true. However, it is part of the integration process and has been throughout America's history. One doesn't have a melting pot without heat. […] Getting angry about this is about as useful as getting angry about gravity.”), how can one respond ethically to anything? Our responsibility to others seems to preclude oppressing them—yet, for you this is a legitimate tool for social progress. Is there a way in which some ends are not worth these means?

Or in Dave’s terms: the biblical record from the prophets to the teachings of Christ speaks quite clearly about the responsibility of followers of God to care for the poor, the oppressed, the widow, the orphan. It also directly contradicts the idea that humanity is getting better and better, day by day, and that humans are capable of producing a utopian society that makes progress toward something better. Sadly, the opposite appears to be the case. You suggest that your idea of oppression as a useful social tool can fit into a biblical model (“There does seem to be flux throughout the Bible on a variety of issues, so I don't think that a flexible morality contradicts the Biblical tradition. Mainly, I think that we need to be civil in all things…”)—I would love to hear some specifics on this. What, in particular, do you have in mind when you say that this utilitarian morality squares with what we find in scripture?

So here’s the ultimate question: under the model with which you are working, can we call anything illegitimate/unethical? I am sure that many in 1930’s and 1940’s Germany, 1990’s Rwanda, or present-day Sudan regard{ed) genocide as an ethically-neutral means of moving their societies toward “progress.” Would you agree with them? If not, how would it be possible under your model to call genocide unethical? Or, to rephrase Dave again—what is this notion of “progress” toward which society is moving?

Dave said...

It's not an exception to the "rule," as such, but I think we need to say that genocide (for example) lies outside the boundaries of the New Covenant.

You are right in saying the scriptures teach that God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Yet it does not follow that he cannot freely act according to differnt covenantal patterns throughout history. He has. There are clearly two disctinct covenants laid out to us through which we are to understand God's actions, commandments and promises across time. The covenant to Abraham and his physical seed (and developed through Moses) was clearly--if nothing else (of course, it was pointing to something else!)--a land-grant covenant. I'm not saying I fully understand the genocides portrayed from the Judge period to the Dividic kingdom, but I would posit that they are a function of the way God displays the absolute holiness of his character in the context of a land-grant covenant. These acts of war had nothing to do with one people's moral, national (as such), or physical characteristics being deemed better than another people's. As the scriptures teach it, these acts had only to do with God's promise to Abraham on the one hand, humanity's sin on the other, and God's holiness blazing in the center.

God's holiness is absoutely the same in the midst of the New Covenant (which is not a land-grant covenant (unless you want to speak of the new creation as a kind of land-grant) but a covenant of the heart based on the work of Christ), yet the mandates of God's holiness are now displayed in the midst of history in the passion of Christ (we might say the mandated "genocides" were located in his agony).

Thus, the theme behind both covenants, as they relate to God's holiness is--as we look at them both--"look to Christ!" For, apart from Christ (as strangers to the Covenant (Eph 2), we are marked for destruction in the sin of Adam. In Christ we have "peace with God" and with each other.

As we look to Christ, we take on his character. Ultimately, we do the impossible. We walk contrary to gravity: we actually love our enemies. Why? Because we have seen Christ--because we know him--because in him we have all that we need: God's wrath has been dealth with, God's presence has been given to us in the Spirit, we have been given the words of hope and promise--the new covenant--to share with utmost generosity.

Yes, anger CAN be useless; and I have reacted similarly to you in the face of anger (see previous discussions I've had with Coye). Yet there is the anger which leads to radical, faith-filled action (like what lay behind, "O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?" 3:1). We need to be careful to guard outselves from the first; yet, we need also to be careful not to numb ourselves from the second.

Anyway, that was longer than I expected, sorry about that...

Coye said...

This might threaten to go off topic, but it's one of my big theological gripes of the moment, so I'll say it anyways. We have one passage in which we are told in a particular context that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday today and forever. We have numerous passages recording God changing his mind, relenting, arguing with people who persuade him to change his plans, etc. Is the "immutability" of God a strongly scriptural teaching, or is it just a hold-over from Aristotle's unmoved mover? After all, doesn't Jesus Christ, God incarnate, crucified, risen, ascended and coming again contradict a general immutability in the nature of the Godhead?

Dave said...

Coye:
There is more than one text supporting God's immutability. Plenty of them come well before the time and influence of Aristotle (Num 23:19, for example).

I'm not sure how the incarnation is a de facto strike against the doctrine of immutability. Just because God reveals himself in time (and thus, in stages and manifestations, and ultimately, the incarnation) does not mean his character is unchanging.

If you are really interested in having a conversation in this area we should read some of the books that have been written on this subject (as it is a heated debate of the day) so that we don't reinvent the conversational wheel.

GSP:
Christ embodied what the Law could only describe. The Law cannot change hearts; Christ can transform you as you look to him--he is the real deal, as it were (cf. 2 Cor 3:18). I believe that David was trying to describe what the Law was pointing to--he was seeing and hoping toward the faint outlines of Jesus himself. I don't imagine this statement will convince you; i just don't have the time to make the argument here...

Also, what is the source for this "civility" you speak of? By what power does one love her enemies?

Dave said...

didn't mean to kill the conversation there....shucks.

Coye said...

two things:

1) I'm not certain that we actually gain anything useful by positing different chronologial dispensations of grace (covenants, etc.). What do you think that supposition does for us? Does it really help us understand God? Does it make us love our neighbors more? What it seems like to me is an ad hoc attempt to hold on to the Greek ideal of immutability in the face of a scriptural canon that sometimes describes a changing God. The incarnation, for instance, means that God became human. If he became, then he changed: becoming is change, being is stability (and the Greeks were interested in being-- becoming is Plato's great bogey man). If God is not synonymous with Being, then God does not necessarily have to be immutable, and the idea of different dispensations of grace under different covenants is quite unnecessary.

2) Dave earlier made reference to the structurally oppressed. Our conversation is currently running the risk of assuming that oppression results from individual subjects oppressing other individual subjects (some of my comments seem to assume that to be the case). That picture, unfortuanely, is dangerously simplistic and rather ill-suited to dealing with oppression. Power is more complex than one subject oppressing another (although that in no way diminishes the responsibility that each of us bear towards our neighbors). In fact, "structure" is probably too simplistic a model for understanding what is going on in oppression. I don't know how to describe it. Foucault, Deleuze, Derrida, de Mann, Butler, Lacan, Zizek, Marx, Jameson and others make very convincing arguments about power and the individual human, and it is difficult to make a succinct argument about it that makes much sense. Two ideas, though: 1) Foucault's statement that "not everything is bad, but everything is dangerous," and 2) Augustine's concept that what is true is whatever makes love increase (Derrida, Levinas, and Deleuze are perhaps not too far from this). The ensuing advice would be to question everything (because literally anything can catch us up again in the oppresive propagation of power) and strive to accept the other (including the absolute Other) in the singularity of their arrival... that is, to love others more than ourselves. But even this construction is dangerous and has to be questioned; even a universal acceptance of the other fails to accept the other in her particularity precisely because it is universal. But this, this impossibility, is why we believe through faith in a love whose power exceeds the power at work in the world. That does not mean that our theology is not dangerous, but it does mean that we have hope. And hope is beautiful.

Coye said...

I thought I would try killing the already dead conversation even more than it already was (I was insipired by reading Dracula-- which is, by the way, a really terrifying book.) Well, I staked the hell out of that conversation... but I can't take ALL the credit: Dave killed it first. (Now I have to find Dave and put a stake through HIS heart!)

Dave said...

done

Dave said...

...there's gotta be a better way of having conversations...

Coye said...

well, we could all move to Tyler... but I'm not so sure that's a BETTER way...

we could all spend a week somewhere (mildly buzzed) with an ordered list of topics to discuss. It would be like a conference. We could wear name tags. Two words: continental breakfast.

Coye said...

hmmmm... more painfully vague comments from Grady... and this time it's about me personally. I'm chosing to take it as a compliment, mostly because it makes me feel better.

Speaking of Philosophy of the Arts, did I catch you citing Iris Murdoch somewhere in there?

Actually, most of what I remember from that class is that I was in it with a girl that I pretty much didn't let go for a year and a half... which was about a year too long to be emotionally healthy.

If you guys are still interested in the topic, then I'll make another foray. Grady, here's a major problem with your gravity analogy: gravity is a physical phenomenon that occurs without any human action (whether individual agancy, social structures or you name it); xenophobic oppression (whether individual agency, social structure, etc) is necessarily a human phenomenon. Yes, it would be dumb to curse gravity if I trip and fall, but I could reasonably be mad at the guy who tripped me. And, for the sake of full disclosure, I'm not particularly sorry for people who use institutions to cling to their own privileged positions (and I'm even less inclined to sympathize with those in political office who prey on those fears of loss for personal gain and advancement). I don't feel particularly sorry for upper class Anglo men who feel that women, blacks, homosexuals and people who need healthcare are threatening their boy's club. (To risk an overly charged analogy-- please take it with a grain of salt-- I also don't feel sorry for white Afrikaners who lost their apartheid South Africa. Or for American slave owners, or Nazi collaborators, or Tom Delay.) I do pity people in those privileged positions in that the systems they cling to kill their souls, but I don't see the loss of that destructive privilege as a thing to be mourned.

If anyone wants to keep this thing going, then they should start a new thread. This one is about to get bumped off the front page.

Dave said...

how's that?