Essay 14: On Language

The Final Essay In This Series

When one must consider the times as they are, they would think themselves, I believe rightly, not in the best of times. Today is the 5th of November, a rather auspicious night. Not only is it election day in the United States (which, for those who aren’t American, occurs “the Tuesday next after the first Monday in November”¹) but it is also Guy Fawkes Night. In the UK, as I understand it, this night celebrates the failed attempt by Catholic extremists, most notably Guy Fawkes, to blow up the House of Lords and replace Protestant King James I with a Catholic monarchy.

I used to sympathize with Guy Fawkes and his merry band of rebels, for belief is a serious thing; just as in politics, what you believe can change how you view entire situations, which in turn affects how you act when confronted by them. Entire groups in the US have been persecuted and slaughtered by the whims of a populace, due to the beliefs prevalent at that time; likewise, great change and progress have been made for the improvement of countless lives due to our beliefs. Beliefs are what we value, and they are determined by the actions we most wish to see propagated in the world. A nation or state that cherishes death and destruction will receive it from those willing to deliver, and all deserve, I think, an equal opportunity to perform the noble duty of building a life for themselves. For what is life but a series of actions we perform to continue existing?

Why we persist in the face of overwhelming odds is one of those philosophical questions that no honest person can answer with certainty. But I think, as Cicero did, that we continue, even in the face of suffering, because life is too precious to abandon without leaving a mark. To live is to see hope in the future, to see that our actions are not futile but actually matter and have an impact on the thoughts and judgments of others. I, for one, take great satisfaction in knowing that what I write will be read by others, and that I might impart to them some knowledge, some good sentence, some morsel of wisdom to bring them out of the depths of nihilism or distress.

But to return to the political point I was making earlier, I think there are those who despise Trump not just as a candidate but as a person to the extent that they might even consider drastic actions, similar to Guy Fawkes, for the sake of what they perceive as future prosperity. To even contemplate such actions may reflect the state of politics in America; I’d say it signals the beginning of a nation’s decline when its populace can’t agree on fundamental things and instead divides over matters of small consequence. The ads I saw from both sides this year were the same recycled drivel: "This incumbent has done nothing for you," or "This newcomer will do nothing for you." Why can’t our parties come together to address the same issues we agree on? Why the unnecessary division, the conflict over petty matters? I suppose this is a symptom of being so successful—America is quite literally suffering from success. We are so powerful on nearly every metric that even with disastrous presidential candidates (four years of both Trump and Biden), we are still the dominant military and economic force. And yes, according to American standards (which we get to set when we're on top), these are the metrics that measure a nation’s success.

This phenomenon is well reflected in what Rudyard Lynch calls the "psychological black death," a term describing the massive interpersonal and societal issues we face today. Nihilistic, proudly ignorant, and apathetic toward education—America is a nation of what were once seen as country bumpkins, a cultural backwater that only managed to overthrow Great Britain due to French support. A lot has changed since our Founding Fathers wrote the Constitution. In the 200 years since, we've become a world power by a series of fortunate historical events, namely, our emergence as a naval power after the Spanish–American War of 1898, as well as being relatively unscathed by both world wars compared to our European allies. We ultimately defeated the Soviet Union in the Cold War due to a superior economic policy, capitalism, and free markets.

Ironically, had we let communism spread, as the Soviets intended, the result may have been less disastrous than the proxy wars America initiated under the domino theory, which assumed that each new nation under Soviet rule would strengthen the USSR's military and eventually lead to a war against us. The Soviets did indeed have superior conventional forces (ground troops and the like), but America led technologically. In fact, JFK ran against Nixon on a platform claiming the Eisenhower administration, of which Nixon was vice president, allowed the Soviets to surpass America in nuclear armaments. This was a complete lie, as later confirmed by Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara—America in the early ’60s had a 20,000-to-1 advantage in nuclear warheads.

And this takes us to the present, where we have a poorly educated populace that seeks to gratify every desire by slaving away what little time they have. Our values are not aligned with our well-being but are instead centered on consumerism, which we—and every other nation that follows us—conflate with happiness. This is the greatest gaslighting in the history of the world! The idea that happiness comes from merely having more; I know this is a value judgment, but that is precisely the point. Why do we put so much emphasis on productivity and labor, rather than on leisure and study, on cultivating individual greatness rather than corporate profits? An ideal utopia is one in which everyone’s desire for self-actualization is fulfilled. Political pundits and commentators would be quick to say that such a world would lead to debauchery and degradation—that no one would work or produce—but they are wrong. Cultivating the self through exercise, study, reading, painting, and having time to think and contemplate creates the greatest society on earth. What couldn’t we achieve when everyone’s mind is filled with the glory of Homeric action, the delicate grace of Virgil, the fiery love of Sappho and Catullus, the erudition of Erasmus and Maimonides, the life advice of Schopenhauer and Cardano, the philosophy of Nietzsche and Emerson, and the wisdom of Goethe and Franklin? Dear God, what couldn’t humanity achieve if we all pursued our own greatness and fulfillment?

This, I think, should be the end of politics. As John Adams once said: “We ought to consider what is the end of government before we determine which is the best form. Upon this point, all speculative politicians will agree that the happiness of society is the end of government, just as all divines and moral philosophers agree that the happiness of the individual is the end of man. From this principle, it will follow that the form of government which communicates ease, comfort, security, or, in one word, happiness, to the greatest number of persons, and in the greatest degree, is the best.”²

Our values shape our actions; our decisions reflect what we value, and we should aim to maximize what we can become. Life is too short not to pursue some noble goal, to make oneself strong, beautiful, youthful, talented, kind, wise, and elegant! But we have no such thing in America, and the world, by extension, has lost that as well. Look at France, the country with the longest influence on intellectual life in modern history—where are the salons and book clubs, the gatherings of scholars and literary critics huddled in small bookshops, taking up all the coffee, and diving into great books for enlightenment and empowerment? This has faded because the majority no longer values such pursuits, even though, curiously, there remains some lingering esteem for them.

For example, I recently went to a barbershop, and the lady cutting my hair asked if I’d done anything since graduating college. I told her I was still figuring it out, but that in my search, I’d read the whole of Western literature, studied all of philosophy, taught myself calculus and other advanced mathematics, and read a great deal of history. She was most shocked by the fact that I read. This shocked me too, as I’d expected her to be more surprised that I’d taught myself calculus. But no—it was the fact that I’d read books that stunned her. She told me she hadn’t read a book since she was 15 (she was pushing 40), and right there, I realized that our declining literacy rates, mathematical ability, and lack of cultural cultivation aren’t merely anecdotes. Our values truly shape where we are headed.

But let me tie this all back to the topic of this essay: language. God bless you, language, the greatest of all things, right alongside writing. You allow us human beings to communicate with each other, to freely express our loves and hates, our disagreements and agreements, our philosophical babble and corny jokes; all this, without question, is the stuff of life and the midwife to culture! It was believed during the Middle Ages that mankind remains far and above all other creatures because of our reasoning faculties—and what facilitates the exercise of such faculties better than speaking to each other? Ah, speech—what a marvel that, with it, I can tell someone how much I care for them, or cheer up a crying child with a joke or story to distract from the slings and arrows of mortal coil.

There are two aspects to language: the differences between them, and the similarities they share. The differences are obvious, for there are over 7,000 languages in the world; yet, despite this, they all touch the same thing: our humanity. I may say to someone, "I love you," and it would mean just as much if I said, "Je vous aime." We can thank our anatomy—so beautifully designed—for allowing air to flow from our lungs, through the larynx (voice box), and into our mouths, where pronunciation and articulation occur, all enabled by the brain’s control of these motor functions in the first place. I find it tremendous that we all use the same anatomy to different ends when we speak different languages!

And it’s funny too, because I’ve recently been contemplating languages in general—in what ways they’re similar and different, and how they all express the same sentiments, just in different ways. This alone I deemed worthy of aspiring to polyglottery. I told my mother, a native Spanish speaker, that I would learn the language by reading Don Quixote to her in the original while using an English translation to help me understand the words. She would correct my pronunciation, point out inflections, and explain conjugations. I recently shared the same plan with my French friend, a native Québécois speaker—we shall read Voltaire’s Candide and do the same thing. The thought of this excites me endlessly. I often say to myself, “You’ve already mastered English; you’ve read all the greatest English writers and poets. You know how to write an elegant sentence, an ode in the style of the Greeks, a lament in the manner of the Romans, poetry (although some of it be paltry little trifles), as well as compositions in all forms. You know it all already, Joe. Grow your mind by taking on new labors and challenges. Remember what Ben Franklin always said: ‘Sloth consumes faster than labor wears, for the used key is never rusty.’ Likewise is the mind. You must commit yourself to mastering pronunciation and the meaning of words. No great task is ever embarked on with complete certainty. You may very well find it difficult, but at least try to gain some acquaintance with these things—for your future benefit and for the broader benefit of humanity. Ignorance of the world’s languages helps no one. Didn’t Gauss embark on learning Russian in his sixties? Didn’t Erasmus struggle for two whole years to master Greek for the sake of translating the Bible? Think of the polyglots you look up to, whose examples show the possibilities of greatness awaiting those with good intentions, sound methods, and world-class patience. I speak of the John Miltons of the world: John Selden, Hugo Grotius, Thomas Browne, Pico della Mirandola, Leibniz, Thomas Jefferson, John Quincy Adams, Giuseppe Caspar Mezzofanti, Jean-François Champollion, Al-Farabi, William Rowan Hamilton, William Jones, Emil Krebs, and Alexander Argüelles. Let them all be the wellspring of inspiration in your endeavors to master the languages of the world. Language is the communication of the heart, from the soul, to the ears of the world. It’s no mere game; it’s the most used tool on earth, for all things are communicated through language. Learn them all, and stay inspired.”

‘But how, if I don’t know what the words mean?’ I hear you ask. I can only say, take your own advice, for you once epitomized how everyone should approach learning a language:

“Let not your ignorance of other languages deter you from mastering your own. Once you have learned all there is and read all you could in your language—make like Alexander, expand your horizon to other lands, and conquer all that stands in your way. Learn all! What’s that? You’re learning Spanish? Prepare yourself for the mighty Cervantes—his immortal Don Quixote—the wise maxims and counsel of Baltasar Gracián, the unbeatable prose of Quevedo, and the tremendous novels of Lope de Vega. What’s that? You’re learning French? Oh, you are in for a treat. Falter not at the dramas of Racine, Corneille, or Molière; the greatest of them all, Voltaire—the man who single-handedly served as both Luther and Renaissance for an entire nation. If one reads Candide alone, they have enough culture to last a lifetime. Then there’s the unbeatable Victor Hugo, the man who spoke for a nation in revolution and who, by extension, influenced all of humanity, modernizing prose and narrative in such a unique way as to practically be rightly called one of the first modern novelists. Lastly, German? You say you wish to master the language of Martin Luther and Gutenberg? Look no further than Goethe, the man who single-handedly mastered all arts, accomplished all feats attainable for man, and still felt compelled to write stories that shaped the entire course of history. He wrote the greatest autobiography ever (superior to those of Cardano, Cellini, or Franklin), surpassed Shakespeare in verse, and has all of mankind beat in prose—his only close rivals being Emerson and his fellow German, Nietzsche. There is no one else you need to read if you wish to experience Germany in full, for everything that is can be found in Goethe, for he is the embodiment of all virtues and noble characteristics. So, dear language learner—you true appreciator of culture and the humane arts—master your own language first, and then proceed, respectfully and with the greatest of care and gentleness, towards the language of your desire! You can learn anything; you simply need to know the method by which to approach it. For languages, study linguistics—that technical field that resembles more the art of a grammarian than a philologist. Study pronunciation, the IPA specifically, and the alphabet of each language until you are well acquainted with each phoneme, as if it were a personal friend of yours. Lastly, read widely, at all levels of difficulty, although one should start with the simple, for foundation, and build from there. Such is how one masters a language.”

1. "2 U.S. Code § 7 - Time of election". law.cornell.edu. Cornell Law School.

2. The Works of John Adams, vol. 4. Little, Brown, and Company, 1851, pp. 193-194.