What’s the point of language?
I knew a family called Harrison. They (mum and dad) shared a speech impediment. They could not pronounce R. Despite that, they called their children Rebecca, Ronald and Roger. Their home rang to cheerful summonses, “ Webbeca lunch is weddy,” and “Wonald are you playing wugby today?” and “Woger where’s your wabbit.” The kids were teased at school because, at first, they thought this pronunciation was correct. Indeed, they had to learn how to pronounce R.
When I worked in Africa we had a Korean expert, seconded to us, advising on construction projects. One day he stormed into my office. “Your staff are not selious,” he shouted, “they just make evelything stupid.” I calmed him down and asked him to explain the problem. “I said we need two lollies, and he said, ‘olange or lemon’, it’s not selious.” I took him to a local shop and asked him to repeat his question. The shopkeeper opened her freezer pointed at the lollipops and asked, “Orange or lemon?” After that, he spent a great deal of time trying to learn how to pronounce R.
The purpose of language is, in my opinion, to communicate. Of course there are variations in pronunciation. In English we leave off the final T in French words like “Buffet.” We sometimes make an effort to imitate a foreign name “Majorca” is an example of trying to imitate the way Mallorca is pronounced in Catalan. We have not bothered to try writing Moscwa, a sort of approximation. Preferring Moscow, which, with some people, turns into MossKow a weird hybrid vegetable with horns and an udder.
Of course some foreign letters are almost impossible for non-natives to pronounce. The Welsh LL and Dutch G are a case in point. Van Go, is not even an attempt at pronouncing Vincent Van Gogh’s name. G in Dutch is a guttural sound – try clearing your throat and saying “G” at the same time. The British English attempt of Van Goch, at least tries to reproduce it. Incidentally, I worked for a Dutch company for some years. As a young man I would sometimes party too hard, and learned to avoid phoning the Dutch office, the morning after the night before. The switchboard lady always cheerfully greeted one with, “Goedemorgen,” a sound that summed up the way I felt.
So, if the purpose of language is to communicate, may I suggest that consonants are vitally important? Increasingly consonants are being modified or dropped. Politicians are especially guilty of not pronouncing T and D at the end of words. “We passe the tes,” is not even close to “we passed the test.” Maybe it’s not supposed to be. Could it be that lots of folk have a reason to be unclear? Maybe there’s an Institute of obfuscation somewhere, determined to provide politicians, government and businesses with new ways to hoodwink voters, taxpayers and customers. Perhaps that’s the real reason complaints or requests for clarification are now met with a standard, “We understand your concern.” Which can almost always be translated as, “Damn it, we must try harder to obscure the message.”
OK, maybe I’m being a bit to cynical, but please can we rise up and protest against speech mangle. Misunderstandings can escalate into serious situations, some with dreadful consequences. It would be a sad epitaph that read, “He died as the result of a mispronounced consonant”
When I worked in Africa we had a Korean expert, seconded to us, advising on construction projects. One day he stormed into my office. “Your staff are not selious,” he shouted, “they just make evelything stupid.” I calmed him down and asked him to explain the problem. “I said we need two lollies, and he said, ‘olange or lemon’, it’s not selious.” I took him to a local shop and asked him to repeat his question. The shopkeeper opened her freezer pointed at the lollipops and asked, “Orange or lemon?” After that, he spent a great deal of time trying to learn how to pronounce R.
The purpose of language is, in my opinion, to communicate. Of course there are variations in pronunciation. In English we leave off the final T in French words like “Buffet.” We sometimes make an effort to imitate a foreign name “Majorca” is an example of trying to imitate the way Mallorca is pronounced in Catalan. We have not bothered to try writing Moscwa, a sort of approximation. Preferring Moscow, which, with some people, turns into MossKow a weird hybrid vegetable with horns and an udder.
Of course some foreign letters are almost impossible for non-natives to pronounce. The Welsh LL and Dutch G are a case in point. Van Go, is not even an attempt at pronouncing Vincent Van Gogh’s name. G in Dutch is a guttural sound – try clearing your throat and saying “G” at the same time. The British English attempt of Van Goch, at least tries to reproduce it. Incidentally, I worked for a Dutch company for some years. As a young man I would sometimes party too hard, and learned to avoid phoning the Dutch office, the morning after the night before. The switchboard lady always cheerfully greeted one with, “Goedemorgen,” a sound that summed up the way I felt.
So, if the purpose of language is to communicate, may I suggest that consonants are vitally important? Increasingly consonants are being modified or dropped. Politicians are especially guilty of not pronouncing T and D at the end of words. “We passe the tes,” is not even close to “we passed the test.” Maybe it’s not supposed to be. Could it be that lots of folk have a reason to be unclear? Maybe there’s an Institute of obfuscation somewhere, determined to provide politicians, government and businesses with new ways to hoodwink voters, taxpayers and customers. Perhaps that’s the real reason complaints or requests for clarification are now met with a standard, “We understand your concern.” Which can almost always be translated as, “Damn it, we must try harder to obscure the message.”
OK, maybe I’m being a bit to cynical, but please can we rise up and protest against speech mangle. Misunderstandings can escalate into serious situations, some with dreadful consequences. It would be a sad epitaph that read, “He died as the result of a mispronounced consonant”
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