Український переклад моєї конкурсної роботи доступний за посиланням https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B5yA-nWAuBS2RXhROUh6OFRVd3M/view
Many Languages, One World
Let me take
some liberties and play with this statement.
Every language
is an individual world. Language works like a unique matrix with its own
structure, logic and correlations, through which people perceive reality. This complex,
fabulously organized system cannot be translated in terms of another matrix: although a rough
meaning may be reproduced in a roundabout way, veiled half-words and elusive
senses will be irreversibly lost. So many languages, so many worlds.
Remember the
Emerald City from “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” by L. Frank Baum. All citizens
and guests had to wear green spectacles so that the city seemed totally of a
greenish shade to them. Then imagine languages to be eyeglasses, which are
tinted, shaped, sized and patterned in various ways. As there is no man without
glasses (s/he knows at least one language: verbal, nonverbal, the one of art,
music or computers), everybody sees a world through different lenses – dark,
light, black-and-white, golden, violet, checked, mosaic, scrappy, convex,
concave… If people do not see eye to eye, is it possible to guess what the
world is in reality and whose perception is correct? We cannot get rid of
glasses, that is why the only available chance is to collect and try on different
ones, describing, exploring and comparing what we watch, although the pieces
may not necessarily fit a total worldview. Perhaps, it does not even exist.
To prove people
of different languages get the wrong end of the stick I give an example of Plato,
an ancient Greek philosopher. His brilliant work “Πολιτεία” (politeia) suggests an idea
of a perfect fair state. According to the Liddell and Scott’s Greek-English
Lexicon politeia means a form of
government, the condition and rights of a citizen, a relationship between a
citizen and a state. The name is usually translated as “Republic” (res-publica)
into the Romance languages and English emphasizing commonwealth, public affair where every free person
has a right to participate in, whereas the Russian translation sounds “Государство” (gosudarstvo). Its most widespread sense is a state, but the origin
and etymology of the world implies a noun gosudar
– a sovereign, a ruler who concentrates power in his hands only. Talking about the same, languages talk at cross-purposes
– from equality to hierarchy and submission.
Mr. Keith Chen,
an Associate Professor of Economics at the UCLA Anderson School of Management,
came up with a fantastic idea of languages working hand in glove with a behavioural economics. Weak future-time
reference languages (e.g. Mandarin Chinese, German) often use similar grammar
structures to talk about both present and future, whereas strong future-time
reference languages (e.g. English, Italian, Greek) draw a strict temporal line
between today and tomorrow. Thus, “futureless language” speakers seem to feel then in now already, see forthcoming in instant and therefore map out effects
and foreknow consequences more distinctly than their fellow men who perceive
future as something distant and vague. This particular feature is reflected in our ability to live a healthy
life and make savings: citizens who speak weak future-time reference languages
tend to save on average 6% more of their countries’ GDP per year[1].
I am absolutely
fascinated with the whole idea of language. What captivates me in languages is
their divinely pondered bodies: so diverse, shifting, grotesquely twisted as
well as harmoniously organized, and skillfully crowned with flowers of
concealed puzzles that will never reveal their mystery. Language is a creature,
which casts a spell over me – it appears to be a stroke of some genius
aficionado, a masterpiece worth worshiping and by far the most astonishing
phenomenon like nothing on earth, constructing people and being constructed by
people. Language bears a striking resemblance to thinking as all our thoughts
are worded firstly in mind. Mentality and talking are on the same wavelength,
providing double-sided complementary process: both thinking moulds language and
language shapes thinking. Not only is it an applicable tool to express
yourself, but also a fundamental ontological category, a psychopomp who
accompanies us from nonexistence of anonymous ignorance to the existence of
naming things (something is nothing unless we name it). Then it is not we who
are speaking a language, but a language speaking through us (“die Sprache spricht”[2]
– Martin Heidegger).
To begin with
my language biography, I was born in Mykolayiv, a town in southern Ukraine, which
was founded at the end of the 18th century as a shipbuilding centre
of the Russian Empire and was inhabited mainly by Russian workers. This fact
seems to explain why Russian, not Ukrainian is predominately spoken there even
now.
I need to
mention that languages have always been a stumbling block for our society, which
pinpoints a problem of malleable identity. Switching between languages makes us
put on different masks and then have difficulty identifying ourselves – kind of ambiguous, isn’t it? However, as for me,
multilingualism is a far-fetched problem. I admit it to be a problem if the only mutual feature of people is be
their name of a human being. Instead of searching for more differences, we had better
think globally and use unique individual experiences for a common aim. The
variety of dialects, speaking manners and gestures is not an obstacle to
understand each other if we are passionate about the same things – I was
convinced of it while hitch-hiking in different regions of Ukraine and visiting
a summer camp for diabetic children from Kyiv and Lviv as well as from
Sevastopol and Donetsk.
So, my
childhood was bilingual: Ukrainian governess and school, informal Russian
speaking with friends and family. Switching between languages has always been a
piece of cake for me. At the age of five I started learning English, and when I
was 12, I knew nuts and bolts of French and German. My 14 was a time of
national self-identification: I understood, as I had never realized before,
that I am Ukrainian, and began to express it through the language: at first,
writing short stories in Ukrainian only, then talking Ukrainian to my family and teaching my parents to speak Ukrainian. Now I
study philosophy at the university in Kyiv, the capital of my country, where I also
learn Ancient Greek and Latin. These truly charming ancient languages appear to be so living like none of the modern ones.
They are pure and absolute beauty in how deeply and philosophically they
reflect the world. All in all, knowledge from ancient ages enables me to
analyze the present of my country more profoundly.
Notoriety,
which has been reverberating about Ukraine for the last two years all over the
world, is a war. It may be looked at from various angles: as a satisfaction of
geopolitical and economic interests, a cultural invasion, a war of
mentalities... The main thing to be understood is who or what we are fighting
against: people or ideas. If enemy is people, how exactly did we hurt them and
they harm us? If we are opposing an idea, is it worth dying for? Can we create
a constructive idea, which will unite all the people all over the world despite
cultural and language differences? “Homo homini lupus est” (a man is a wolf to a man) – we are used
to citing Latin playwright Titus Maccius Plautus, but only a few would continue
“quom qualis sit non novit” [3] (when one
doesn’t know another). The world ends where our knowledge is over; our knowledge is over where
the language puts its borders. Whatever difference we are, this abyss can be
bridged.
So here I am
facing a challenging question: what is an acceptable connecting link for the
melting pot of overwhelming languages, cultures, moralities, religions, laws, etc.? How to bring together humble beginnings and
blue blood? What can consolidate s/he who lives life to the fullest and those
who are going to enjoy themselves after death? Where do victims’ views and
oppressors’ interests concur as one mind?
Suppose we are
runaway children, yearning for independence and finally having got a spacious
hiding-place for making friends and making enemies. No room is alike there,
each one boasts unique atmosphere and rules. No taboos for our games, we are
our own masters. Nevertheless, we had better stop kidding ourselves that this
house is given gratuitously. Once harmless, later our activity may ruin
building’s bottom and hole the roof. Then there will be no place for wars and loves,
guns and roses as it is the one and only home we have.
Love to our
mutual home is a value that, I believe, overcomes cultural and language
borders. Joining efforts to make our planet a better place or, at least, not
damaging it is an appropriate task for all traditions: from savage, whose
microcosm is strongly connected with nature’s macrocosm, to the Buddhist who
believes real world to be hidden by Maya, but who still tries to know the
truth. The idea to take care of our planet challenges us to show how we are
eager to work together: in science and robotics, speaking the languages of math and logic; in music, using
feelings; in supporting and helping our neighbours who are in need – speaking
the language of kindness. We are all sitting in one boat, so why not just enjoy
a beautiful view instead of fighting for a place?
Many Languages,
One Home.
[1] M. Keith Chen (2013). The Effect of Language on
Economic Behavior: Evidence from Savings Rates, Health Behaviors, and
Retirement Assets. Retrieved 21.03.2015 from http://dx.doi.org/10.1257/aer.103.2.690
[2] Language speaks (German)
[3] T. Macci Plavti. Asinaria. Retrieved
23.03.2015 from
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