Lingua franca

I once knew an Englishman who lived abroad. This was before the current trend among the English to flee their own country because of the political, economical and cultural state their country is in. This Englishman had married a foreign woman and left England to live with her in her country (which is my country, too, as it happens). I visited him now and then, always happy for an opportunity to speak English with a native. But every time he disappointed me. He insisted on emulating the pidgin English common among the natives in the country where he now lived. I hoped to inspire him with my very best British-English accent. “Please,” I pleaded, “speak proper English, I would so much like to hear it!” To no avail. “Sorry, I can’t, I don’t know why!” he responded in his stupid pidgin English. How absurd, I thought. Here is a foreigner doing his utmost to sound English while the only Englishman present is doing his utmost to sound foreign. But at the time I could not explain his unwillingness.

Maybe it has got something to do with the fact that English is, and has been for a long time, the world’s lingua franca. This means that an Englishman cannot avoid having his language tortured and distorted every day, in writing or in speaking. It is molested by people from all over the world who are unable to appreciate or could not care less about the extraordinary musicality, the finer conceptual distinctions or the subtle idiomatic flavours of the English language. And although it is true that many native speakers are also less than linguistically adept I wonder how it affects the pride of the nation to have its mother tongue permanently and ubiquitously mispronounced, misspelled, misunderstood – and, indeed, understood – by strangers who have no, or at any rate very few, personal ties to and hence little personal interest in the English language and its territorial foundations: English history, culture, customs and traditions. For the strangers the language is merely a convenient tool for easy cross-cultural communication. A tool wholly detached from its national bedrock.

It is almost as if anyone suddenly had a right to rule over my child. No doubt I would feel uneasy and hostile to the intruders. Sooner or later my feelings would find an outlet: I would tell them to go away. Or if I am not up to the confrontation I would seek to protect my child by withdrawing it. I would take the child to a secret hiding place where only I and my close relatives had access. But then I face a dilemma: I cannot isolate the child for the rest of its life but on the other hand I cannot expose it to the outer world where total strangers will readily dominate and contaminate it. Not quite knowing how to solve this dilemma I continue to keep the child in hiding whilst making an effort to integrate as seamlessly as I can with the outer, foreign world in the hope that this gesture will divert the attention from the fact not only that I have a most precious child tucked away but also that I consider the influence of this foreign, disrespectful world on my child as dangerous and detrimental.

My English friend, I believe, had such a precious child hidden away, namely his dear mother tongue. For fear of hurting it he sheltered it from foreign disrespectful and prying impulses. And he tried to cover it all up by adopting the pidgin language of his foreign companions. I suppose this is the price to pay for the sensitive person whose language happens to be the lingua franca of the world. At some deeper (not necessarily conceptual) level he realises that language is inextricably linked with national background, heritage and culture and cannot be shared with total strangers save in the most superficial sense. Not wanting to be superficial he conceals from the light that which he knows cannot bear the exposure rather than displaying something that cannot be genuine and true.

Danger

When the cat is out of the bag the mice are in danger. But if the mice decide to allow this danger and learn to live with it, enjoy it even, then there is a real hope of peace and prosperity.

Own goal

People have different goals and objectives in their lives. Some feel an ineradicable urge to climb Mount Everest while others are satisfied to qualify for state benefits. Most of us have some goal or other. We act in ways that we think will bring about the fastest and at the same time the most reliable realisation of our goal. We may for instance check the facts pertaining to a case, earn and accumulate money, acquaint ourselves with bureaucratic fine print, purchase necessary gear and equipment, prepare ourselves by studying books and maps etc. If everything goes according to plan we finally arrive at the summit of Mount Everest, or we land the desired welfare payment. Then what? We rest on our laurels for a while, but soon we need to identify another goal and then the whole process repeats itself.

This is a healthy and rational, albeit endless, life process. We establish goals that are within human reach, we labour to reach them and then we establish other reachable goals. It is a linear process that gains its momentum from the continuous disparity between the external objective (ideal) and the internal measures and procedures (will, knowledge, competence). When there is equilibrium between the two “forces” (the goal is reached) the impetus is lost and that’s why another goal must be found before long. Otherwise life grinds to a halt.

Now, suppose we get the idea to have “ourself” as a goal in our life. Then we discard all external goals or ideals and seek instead to be our own goal. On the surface at least, this is an unhealthy and irrational ambition in the sense that it is absurd to search for that which we already possess. It’s like saying “I really want to find my keys” while holding the keys firmly in our hand. It also destroys the fine balance between the two opposite “forces” above: here the ideal coincides with the measures and procedures with which we seek to realise our ideal – will, knowledge and competence become simultaneously means and ends. So in reality, there is no way of ascertaining whether we reach our goal (ourselves) because of our effort or if our effort itself is proof that we have reached our goal (ourselves). Indeed, having “ourself” as a goal is identical to having a goal that is unreachable.

And yet, people keep searching for themselves all the time. Or so they say. Reusing an Aristotelian phrase that has become very popular many insist that what they want is to “realise” themselves, that is to say, to bring themselves to “realisation.” But very rarely do we see people who acknowledge the severity of the task they take on. The following checklist should provide some paradoxical clues for the individual who really, truly, obsessively, ineradicably wants to bring himself to realisation:

Abandon yourself,
become a stranger to yourself,
forget everything that is important to you.

Exert pressure on yourself.
Be your own worst enemy.
Constantly kill your darlings.
Loathe the glorious image you have created of yourself,
love the horrible image of yourself that others bring to your attention.
Never give yourself a break, but stay focused although your head and body kill you.

Empty yourself.
Starve yourself.
Cleanse yourself.
Seek pain.

Authority

One can see it more and more often claimed these days that what we need now, in education and in society in general, is people who exert authority. Frequently, the adjectives “real” or “natural” are attached to the claim thereby implying that it is possible to have authority that is unreal and unnatural. What is meant by these qualifications, is rarely explained. The most interesting distinction being made, however, is not that between real and unreal, or between natural and unnatural authority but that between having authority and being an authoritarian. For some reason it has now become common knowledge – i.e. something that everyone automatically believes, something not calling upon further reflection – that the former is mostly if not entirely benign while the latter is inherently and irreparably evil. How has this certainty come about? And is it true, or have we here merely an instance of the creation of a convenient antilogy? Convenient for whom? Creation for what purpose?

I will return to these questions. For starters, let’s just note that the two words have the same origin. ‘Authoritarian’ is derived from ‘authority’ which has its roots in the Latin ‘auctoritas’ meaning invention, advice, opinion, influence or command. ‘Auctoritas,’ in turn, stems from the Latin word ‘auctor’ which denotes master, leader or author. So etymologically, there is no distinction between the two concepts. Also, from a grammatical point of view, there seems to be little difference. Just as it makes perfect sense to say of a comedian that it is a person who performs comedy and of a librarian that it is a person who works in a library, it makes sense to say of an authoritarian that it is a person who exerts authority. Indeed, so intimate are the conceptual ties in these examples that we would not hesitate to name them circular since there is no variance in denotation between the explanandum and explanans; they are semantically very similar if not identical.

Dictionaries, however, (I have here used quotes from http://dictionary.reference.com) do confirm that there is a marked distinction between the two concepts. Having authority here entails “possessing the power to determine, adjudicate, or otherwise settle issues or disputes” while being authoritarian means “exercising complete or almost complete control over the will of another or of others.” The former, in other words, is the sagacious magistrate, the latter a wicked tyrant and oppressor. But if we look at the etymology we find that this clear-cut distinction is a rather new invention. Until the end of the 19th century the word ‘authoritarian’ didn’t even exist. When the phrase was coined it denoted a person or system that favoured “imposed order over freedom.” Interestingly, the term ‘authoritative’ had originally this very meaning. And if we go back half a millennium, to the late 14th century, the word ‘authority’ itself denoted the “power to enforce obedience.” So historically, that is to say, over the last four or five hundred years, there seems to have been a more or less conscious cultural drive towards the purification and amelioration of the concept of ‘authority,’ an urge to rid it of its nasty connotations culminating in the construction of a new, derived, “scapegoat” concept in the 1870s – ‘authoritarian’ – a concept, by the way, much favoured and wholeheartedly embraced by the steadily growing number of anti-imperialist, anti-capitalist, anti-traditionalist Marxists and socialists after World War I. For those groups ‘authoritarian’ was a wonderful weapon with which they could blame and shame not just the violent tyrants and oppressors of their day (including parents and teachers) but more importantly, by association, the concept of authority itself.

No wonder then that contemporary common sense holds that there is a sharp division between having authority and being authoritarian. This is the air in which we all breathe these days. Nonetheless, a lot of people today are open to the idea that authority has undeservedly been tarnished by too close an association with its despised cousin, ‘authoritarian.’ Common sense has, over the course of the last fifty years or so, finally discovered (initially to its great chagrin one might add) that a society devoid of distinct authority figures and with an intellectual elite that uses every opportunity to discredit behaviour and character traits that carry the remotest resemblance to authority or authoritarianism – for example hierarchical thinking, self-restraint, self-governance, and the wilful and dutiful exertion of power – turns into a deeply malfunctioning society, a society marked by serial victimhood, severe under-achievement, blatant narcissism, widespread shamelessness and a general lack of purpose and meaning.

Therefore, as the societal disintegration becomes visible for all to see and thus more and more incontestable, even the elites are forced to admit that the anti-authoritarian movements, reaching a climax in the nineteen sixties and seventies, might have gone just a little bit too far in its ideologically motivated witch-hunts against any remnant of the old society and its classical virtues. Indeed, it is as if the metropolitan chattering classes have suddenly come to the sobering realisation that in tossing traditional values away in favour of the wholesale embracing of a series of politically correct stratagems – most notoriously “equality,” “diversity” and “human rights” – one is throwing the proverbial baby out with the bathwater. And what could possibly be worse for these classes that entertain no greater wish and no greater desire than to protect and care for the proverbial (symbolic) child that is thought to reside within all of mankind? Until now, one has lived securely and self-assuredly in a mental sphere of “neverlandish” proportions created upon the ideological foundation provided by Romantic philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, most importantly, his notion that the young child is intrinsically good and that society, civilisation and hence education are to blame for all its consequent deviations and misfortunes. Not any more. Grave societal ills – definitely not attributable to the “deviousness” and “despotism” of the societal institutions themselves which are more prone to bend over backwards in a sincere attempt to help and please and support anyone with a grievance, be it justifiable on a larger scale or not – bring deadly smoke into the rabbit holes of the intellectual definition-makers and render unbearable a continuation of their previous lives in comfortable illusion.

So, they are in for disillusion and disenchantment. The intellectual elites are faced with the following option: either return to the old-world conception of authority – which does not think that a person who exercises authority is very much different from an authoritarian – or generate a new conception of authority where it means something entirely different (the opposite) than ‘authoritarian.’ Being already experts in Orwellian newspeak they find this an easy choice: they go for the re-writing. Thus, a person with authority is competent, intelligent, always just and proper, self-confident and courageous and he never succumbs to the temptations of power, or even experiences no temptations at all. He is pure. In fact, he is very much like Jesus without the religious and metaphysical baggage: hard-hitting and tough but always acting under the auspices of generosity, friendliness and love. The authoritarian, on the other hand, is the mirror image of the authority figure: sadly lacking in skills, prejudiced and intellectually less well endowed, unfair and whimsical in moods and attitudes. But first and foremost he is – and this in the starkest contrast to the true authority – in love with power; he enjoys the power to dominate his fellow human beings by ridiculing, harassing and creating fear. The authoritarian is a plain tyrant, an unloved shadow, a nefarious Cain green with envy of his kindhearted brother who is loved by God and man alike.

The image and its shadow are of course interdependent as antithetical imaginary constructs. But they have both precious little to do with reality as perceived by most people. In the real world we see either the presence of authority or we do not. If there is authority there must be somebody who is authoritarian, that is, who exercises authority. And no one can be an authoritarian without exercising authority on some level and of some type. Really, it is as simple as that. And where there is authority there is also hierarchy and the exercise of power, to a greater or lesser degree, of course. The social hierarchy established by authority – for example between teacher and pupils – may be rather robust or more on the lenient side, it may allow more interventions from pupils than it forbids or vice versa, it may give more or less responsibility to pupils, but a social hierarchy it certainly is, regardless of how we label it. Also, an authoritative or authoritarian teacher must possess a great deal of power, otherwise he will just not have the guts to make the necessary decisions there and then (be they of a practical or dialectical nature), nor the guts to give the necessary orders and make sure they are carried out according to instructions. He must, quite simply, have a will, and also a will to exercise his will, that is to say, he must know what he wants and then set about achieving it. But knowing this and setting about this is exactly what is meant by having power. It is inconceivable that a person who knows what he wants and who manages to do what it takes to achieve his desire has no power.