LAST week’s
column looked at the long
history of
language declinism: for more than 600
years people
have complained that youngsters cannot
write proper
English anymore, and even ancient Sumerian
schoolmasters worried about the state of
the “scribal art”
in the world’s first written language. Two
universal truths
emerge: languages are always changing, and
older
people always worry that the young are not
taking
proper care of the language.
But what if the sticklers have a
point? Of
course
language always changes, but could
technology (or a
simple increase in youthful insouciance
and lack of
respect for tradition) mean that in some
ages it changes
faster than in others? Is change
accelerating? In this
case, a real problem could arise. Even if
language
change is not harmful, the faster language
changes, the
less new generations will be able to
understand what
their forebears wrote.
The
Middle English quotation in last
week’s column
________ the point for some readers: it is
all but
impenetrable to modern understanding
without special
training. It is, in effect, a foreign
language. Is this a
problem? Perhaps it is too much to expect
writing to stay
fresh on the shelf for 600 years. More
recent writing
holds up quite well. Pupils read
Shakespeare with only
modernised spelling and a bit of help from
teachers. And
Thomas Jefferson and Jane Austen are
perfectly
readable.
But maybe a
greater conservatism would let
modern
readers peer further back in their own
literary history. If
change had been slower, perhaps Chaucer
would be
only as difficult as Shakespeare is to us;
“Beowulf” only
as distant as Chaucer is now. What’s not
to like?
The problem is
that conservatism works
differently on
writing than it does on speech. Writing is
more
permanent, so people choose their words
carefully and
conservatively. It is slow and considered,
so people can
avoid new usages widely seen as mistakes.
It is taught
carefully by adults to children, which
naturally exerts
some conservative drag on the written
language. And it
is often edited, so (say) a young
journalist with a breezy
contemporary style may well be edited to a
more
traditional one by an older editor.
Speech is different: instead of
permanent,
slow,
considered and taught, it is impermanent,
fast,
spontaneous and learned naturally by
children from their
surroundings. Speech will—at almost any
level of linguistic conservatism—change
faster than written
language.
The problem with
overly successful
conservatism then
becomes clear. Speech moves on, writing
does not, and
the two diverge over time. Take just one
example:
English spelling. As with all languages,
the
pronunciation of English has changed a lot
over the
centuries. Spelling has changed much more
slowly.
Thanks to the Great Vowel Shift of the
middle of the last
millennium, English uses vowels
differently from almost
all other European languages. Silent
letters like
the gh in night are a
remnant of an
earlier pronunciation
(a bit like the German nicht).
Other odd
spellings were
intended to keep etymologies clear: a b
was inserted
into debt to show the link with Latin
debitum. Some
linguistic innovations do not make it into
writing at all:
nearly everyone says gonna and
writes
going to.
________ a language pays homage to the
past,
_________modern schoolchildren will find
learning to
write a bit like learning to speak a
foreign tongue.