Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio. Photo: Christian Times Republican debates are reliably passionate, and candidates can be counted on to dispense heated words with one another. And sometimes, those heated words aren’t particularly mature – if you need any convincing of this, just look at Trump’s defense of his, um, hands at the last debate. But for language nerds like us, one moment that stood out in the Republican shenanigans happened a couple of weeks ago, and oddly enough, in Spanish.
The drama began about mid—way through a weekend debate, the 10th of the party's seemingly endless procession of debates that, thankfully, seem to be narrowing down. After a good hour or so of bickering, Republican senator Ted Cruz decided to, well, continue bickering – though this time about a favorite issue of his that nonetheless had yet to come up in this particular debate: immigration. Cruz accused his rival Marco Rubio, a fellow second generation Cuban-American (though Cruz would perhaps best be described as Cuban-Canadian-American) of being just a bit too lenient on immigrants. He pointed out that Rubio had gone on Telemundo a few weeks earlier and gave an interview in which he called for amnesty for illegal immigrants in the United States. And to top it off, Rubio gave the interview not in English but in the very un-American language of (gasp!) Spanish. Rubio, despite his penchant for canned responses which earned him the nickname “Marco Roboto”, had a quick response for Cruz: “I don't know how [Cruz] knows what I said on Univision because he doesn't speak Spanish.” Cruz upped the ante, opting to actually respond in Spanish: “I’ll answer you in Spanish right now if you want!” It was perhaps one of the strangest moments of a particularly shouty night for the GOP field. And it also pokes holes in one of my pet theories: that a greater knowledge of languages leads to greater tolerance. After all, the GOP field is actually pretty strong in the language skills department. Both Rubio and Cruz speak Spanish – at least well enough to insult each other en Español. And Jeb Bush, still hanging in the race, speaks fluent Spanish thanks to his Mexican wife. Meanwhile, none of the remaining Democratic candidates speak any other language. Still, it’s hard to imagine that the sizeable Latino population of the US is genuinely convinced by the surface-level nods to their culture. Cruz, Rubio, and Bush may all speak Spanish, but they won’t win over Latinos if they have the wrong message. No matter what language it’s in. Orwell's "Politics and the English Language" Works For Pretty Much Every Other Language Too1/29/2016
George Orwell. Photo via signature-reads.com "If you've been following us on the blog here at Pantera Language Studio, you've probably noticed we're political junkies. Don't ask us why - politics can be a disappointing and often maddening process that no one seems to like. But perhaps our fascination with politics can be tied to our love of languages. After all, politicians everywhere in the world, whether in the east, west, left, or right, are all masters of using their own native languages (and sometimes others as well) to shape public opinion to suit their ends. No one understood this better than George Orwell, widely regarded as one of the greatest political thinkers of the 20th century, who died exactly 56 years ago last week. Political speech is a recurring theme of his, which he depicts with chilling precision in his dystopian novel, 1984. But his most direct attempt at tackling just what can be so frustrating about the way politicians speak can be found in his celebrated essay, "Politics and the English Language". Though the essay is long, it manages to cover a lot of ground - its technical nature has gained it recognition by both political scholars and style guide enthusiasts alike. Orwell begins by examining five sentences at random, picking apart unnecessary elements of these sentences. He gives advice to writers and speakers, some of which is specific to the English language (i.e. don't use too many Greek or Latin-based words as they often come off as needlessly complicated), and other advice that might apply to speakers of other languages as well. So far, nothing very political. But about midway through, Orwell launches into the political domain, coming out swinging with a bold statement: "In our time it is broadly true that political writing is bad writing." Orwell criticizes the general vagueness he perceives in political writing, but above all, the intentional vagueness in describing atrocities and negative events. He points to the British occupation in India, where he offers this searing critique: "Thus political language has to consist largely of euphemism, question-begging and sheer cloudy vagueness. Defenseless villages are bombarded from the air, the inhabitants driven out into the countryside, the cattle machine-gunned, the huts set on fire with incendiary bullets: this is called pacification. Millions of peasants are robbed of their farms and sent trudging along the roads with no more than they can carry: this is called transfer of population or rectification of frontiers. People are imprisoned for years without trial, or shot in the back of the neck or sent to die of scurvy in Arctic lumber camps: this is called elimination of unreliable elements. Such phraseology is needed if one wants to name things without calling up mental pictures of them. Consider for instance some comfortable English professor defending Russian totalitarianism. He cannot say outright, "I believe in killing off your opponents when you can get good results by doing so." Probably, therefore, he will say something like this: Interestingly, he recognizes that his observations may apply to other languages as well. "I should expect to find - this is a guess which I have not sufficient knowledge to verify - that the German, Russian and Italian languages have all deteriorated in the last ten or fifteen years, as a result of dictatorship," he notes. Finally, he closes with six main rules to abide by, for anyone willing to try to make political writing a bit more bearable: "(i) Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print. Now that the horrors of Orwell's era - British colonialism, World War II, and the Cold War - have largely passed, today's politicians mercifully have a few less evil deeds to sweep under the rug. Nevertheless, the political turns of phrase Orwell decries in his essay are still alive and well, and not just in English. Take the recent escape and capture of brutal drug kingpin Joaquin "El Chapo" Guzman in Mexico. In the Mexican newspaper La Jornada, columnist Gustavo Esteva skillfully deconstructs the language used by Mexican politicians, who already have a reputation for misspeaking (for an English machine translation of the article, click here). Esteva writes: "It's true that the way the government is destroying our language only serves to discredit it further. The recent example of 'El Chapo' is a perfect example of this process. Social networks and political cartoonists were quick to mock the rhetorical excesses of authorities. 'It has been recognized that many still have doubts, and this helps,' says the Archbishop of Oaxaca, 'since this means there has been a loss of credibility. There is much talk of 'slip ups' to refer to events that in truth are incompetent work, rip-offs, and trickery by authorities. A highly respected Government official took it upon himself to say: 'There is no criminal outside the reach of the government of Mexico'... when everyone in the country knows that criminals like Ulises Ruiz or the Acteal killers roam the streets freely, and that 97 percent of crimes go unpunished. And in this era of complete government incompetence, he added 'The governability of this country is guaranteed.' Habitually discrete ambassadors, who listen to these and other ridiculous statements, break out in applause, sing the national anthem, cheer on the Mexican authorities and swear that this will completely change the outlook for the government and the country. Sic. That's what they say. The capture of a criminal, which was supposedly the outcome of 'an intense and careful process of intelligence and criminal investigation' - even though it actually appears to have happened thanks to whistle-blowing by an unnamed woman - has changed the outlook for the entire country!" Looking at this text, there's surprisingly little that gets lost in translation. English speaking readers might not know much about the Archbishop of Oaxaca or the Acteal killers, but if they've been paying attention to politics anywhere, they're sure to recognize the exorbitant claims and grandstanding by the country's politicians.
But though Orwell's perceptive essay may apply in many languages, maybe even all languages, Politics in the English language is still living up to the principles he laid out back in the 1940s. Next week, voting begins in the Iowa caucuses in the US presidential election, and there has been no shortage of spin, showmanship, and promises made by the candidates that will in all likelihood turn out to be false. This is bad news for people in the country, or any other country whose politicians routinely deceive for their own gain, who are expecting their politicians to deliver. But at least it gives plenty of good material for a new generation of political writers, writing in English or any other language, to pick over. Let's hope they keep Orwell's observations in mind. Canada's newly elected prime minister, Justin Trudeau. Photo: Alex Guibord, Flickr If there were a prize given out for the most famous person named Justin from Canada, it would have to go to Justin Bieber. But this week, another Justin has emerged who might steal that title, if only for a few days: Justin Trudeau, who earlier this week won Canada's election for prime minister.
Trudeau's victory has been attributed to many factors, including a generally liberalizing political climate in Canada, increasing skepticism about Canada's foreign interventions, more willingness to raise taxes in order to pay for social services, as well continuing ties between Trudeau's incumbent opponent Stephen Harper and scandal-ridden Toronto mayor Rob Ford. There may have been a few more unorthodox factors working in his favor too: his hair, his position on marijuana, and increasing fear among Canadians that the conservative Harper government has made it impossible to keep wearing those nifty Canada lapel pins they use to differentiate themselves from Americans abroad. But there was one other thing that helped Trudeau to his victory: his French skills. Canada is in a unique among countries in the Western Hemisphere. It's the only one where a significant portion of its territory is populated by speakers of a language other than the country's primary language - putting it in the same camp as countries like Belgium and Spain. This is a legacy dating from the Seven Year's War, fought in the 1700s, when formerly French Quebec became a British colony. Though Quebec would remain part of Canada even as it gained its independence from Britain in the 1900s, Quebec retained its distinctive identity, and a fierce pride in speaking French. As a result, Canada's government has taken pains to accommodate French speakers in the country. It has adopted a policy of nationwide "official bilingualism". And unlike the US, where presidential candidates who dare to learn French are ridiculed, speaking French is a critical skill for anyone in Canada who wants to throw their hat into the political ring. In fact, as part of the electoral process, candidates for prime minister are expected to take part in a debate held entirely in French. And during this election cycle, the results of the French debate gave Canada's political junkies plenty to pick over. Many concluded that Thomas Mulcair, whose party enjoys stronger support in Quebec than either Trudeau or Harper, went from being a secondary player to the center of attention, fielding more questions and spending more time defending his legacy than the top two. Not surprisingly, Mulcair actually outperforms Trudeau in the French-speaking department. The Montreal Gazette ranked his French as a 10 out of 10, noting that Mulcair is "at ease, he doesn't search for words, it's natural," when he speaks French. The other 10 out of 10 was Gilles Duceppe, leader of the Bloc Quebecois, a party with significant backing in Quebec and virtually no support anywhere else. Duceppe's party is so passionate about French that their website doesn't even appear in English. On the other hand, Trudeau's 8 out of 10 rank does edge out Harper, ranked at 7. While the Gazette notes that Trudeau isn't as natural while speaking French - "he thinks in English," the paper notes - they criticize Harper for being "much slower in French than in English." The paper points out another problem with Harper's French: he has been known to mispronounce "election" as "erection". Ultimately, in an election where candidates have to appeal to voters in Quebec while at the same time winning support in provinces like Alberta, which could easily pass as an Republican red state in the US, maybe an 8 out of 10 is the best score you could ask for. It's just enough French to show the Quebecois you understand them - in this case, literally. But it's not so much so as to inadvertently signal to the rest of the country, which still speaks mostly English, that you might forget about them. It's a delicate balance, that many of the world's linguistically polarized countries face. In others, such as Spain, things aren't going so well, and the country is threatening to split apart along language lines. Fortunately for Canadians, their political leadership relatively adept at holding things together. The five candidates for the Democratic Primary at the October debate in Nevada. Photo: CNN After two Republican primary debates, and significant difficulty in accommodating the massive Republican field - which ended up with the creation of a separate debate for unpopular candidates rather embarrassingly named the "kid's table" - it was finally time for the Democrats to have their own debate. And thanks to the fact that the debate was broadcast on CNN, we took the liberty of watching it (or at least part of it) on CNN's Spanish language affiliate. What we found out was truly astounding. Okay, not really. But here goes anyway.
1. "Debate" in Spanish is "debate". And "CNN" in Spanish is "CNÑ" Though many native English speakers balk at the idea of learning Spanish, learning to understand debates is surprisingly easy. And by that I mean that learning to understand the word "debate" in Spanish is surprisingly easy - it's spelled exactly the same in Spanish, though pronounced differently: "day-bah-tay". But for some reason, CNN has branded itself in Spanish as "CNÑ". What does that stand for, Cable News Ñetwork"? What is a ñetwork anyway? With the ñ, it would be pronounced "nyetwork" which makes it sound oddly Russian. 2. Bernie Sanders sounds weird dubbed with a Castilian accent For much of the debate, Bernie Sanders was shown as making his speech dubbed with a voice speaking in a Castilian (i.e. Spanish from Spain) accent. For me, it was a kind of weird cognitive dissonance - almost as if one of the candidates for US president had started speaking in a British accent. I joked on Twitter that Bernie en español was urging listeners that "nethethitamos mas regulathiones" (we need more regulations). And when asked about Wall Street, I was half expecting the Spanish dub to blurt out "joder, tío!" - which for US English speakers would be the equivalent of hearing "bloody rubbish, mate!" 3. Interpreting a debate is reallllly hard Sure, the candidates were all under pressure to do their best in the debate. But the Spanish interpreters had an equally difficult job of trying to capture distinctly English-language phraseology and slang in a way Spanish speakers could get. And often, it just wasn't possible, even for the seasoned team of interpreters CNN (or should I say, CNÑ) put together. At one point, it sounded to me like one of them was gasping for breath. 4. Spanish speakers outside the US are shocked that American women don't get maternal leave Later in the debate, Hillary scored a few points by mentioning the fact that, at the federal level, the US is sorely lacking in paid maternity leave for women. This is a fact that's staggering, especially when you look at how maternity leave is handled in Spanish-speaking countries around the world, most of which have more robust maternal leave laws than the US. 5. Latinos haven't made up their minds about the Democratic candidates yet CNÑ's post-debate coverage featured a number of interviews with Spanish-speaking Americans, pretty much all of them Latinos. And the overwhelming consensus among them was that they hadn't made their minds up yet. Though the Democratic party is generally seen as being friendlier to Latinos, Republicans have the advantage in that some of their candidates are actually Latino. However, it remains to be seen whether this actually means they will be better for the general Latino population - Ted Cruz, for instance, is know for his bombastic anti-Mexican statements (and also for trying to ingratiate himself to Republican voters by cooking bacon with a machine gun). Bernie Sanders (left) and Jeremy Corbyn (right). Image via SouthSidePride Followers of politics on both sides of the Atlantic have been taken by the rise of two political figures, who are said to have much in common. In the US, former Burlington mayor and current US senator Bernie Sanders is mounting a serious challenge to Hillary Clinton in the Democratic party primary. And in the UK, Jeremy Corbyn took the Labour party by surprise after winning that party's nomination earlier this month.
There are certainly plenty of connections between the pair, as they have both rallied the populist left of their respective countries. Though they are certainly big differences between them as well; an article in the New Yorker quipped that "Corbyn makes Bernie Sanders look like [Republican senator] Ted Cruz." But, for translators like me, one connecting factor stands out in particular: supporters of both groups are or have at one time been given the suffix of "...istas". For Sanders supporters, that would be "Sanderistas", and for Corbyn's base, "Corbynistas". For Sanders, the roots of this phrase go back to his time as mayor of Burlington, Vermont, when he took it upon himself to weigh in on the country's brewing Iran-Contra affair in the early 80s. The term "Sandinista", named for 1930s Nicaraguan revolutionary Augusto César Sandino and made relevant at the time by a government in Nicaragua that embraced his ideology and was opposed by the Reagan administration, was on the tip of everyone's tongue. Sanders wrote letters both to Reagan and to the people of Nicaragua, criticizing the US federal government's actions in the country; this and other factors led to his tightly knit group of supporters being cleverly dubbed "Sanderistas". Corbyn's rise as an "ista" has been relatively recent. A largely irrelevant figure in UK politics, he was brought into the race for Labour party leader after the party's defeat in the general elections in May. By August, when it was clear that Corbyn had a real chance of being elected, right leaning publications like the Daily Mail began to refer to his followers derisively by using the term "Corbynista". While the term "Sanderista" seems to have faded (Sanders' fans haven't lost any enthusiasm, but the preferred term now for his fan base seems to be the "Bernieverse"), the recently minted "Corbynista" only seems to have gained in popularity since Corbyn's selection. But in both cases, the choice of "...ista" to describe their respective following clearly appears to have been a put down, an invocation of the Spanish language not out of respect but to instill fear and paint these politicians' supporters as backward, uncivilized. These tactics are an unfortunate reality of the below-the-belt nature of politics in both countries. And though in an English language context, "...ista" seems to be applied only to major candidades who are significantly to the left of the political mainstream, in Spanish it is applied to politicians of all ideologies, and is seen as rather mundane. Pretty much every politician gets his or her own "...istas", from presidents to small town mayors. And since many people from Spanish speaking countries have multiple last names, this can result in some rather awkward new words. For instance, supporters of Mexico's president Enrique Peña Nieto ("Peña Nieto" being a two word last name) are referred to as "Peñanietistas". But oddly enough, the effect of the rise of the Sandinistas in Nicaragua on the English lexicon wasn't limited to the politics. According to the Dictionary.com blog, it was at that same time that the term "fashionista" came into usage in the US, for people who showed an almost fanatical, Sandinista-esque level of commitment to new fashion trends. Meanwhile, as the English fashion lexicon became tinged with influence from Spanish, some Spanish speaking countries began to use the English word "fashion". In shopping malls where I live, it's not uncommon to see groups of women point to dresses and burst out: "Esto es muy fashion!" Sadly, the rise of "...ista" as a put down reveals our lingering intolerance for foreign languages. But the adaptability of terms like "fashionista" shows that there's still hope that some don't see them as a threat, but as an opportunity. |
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