I wax lyrical about language that means so much to me
or so I hope. Ploddingly doing my homework for my Italian, that day seems far off. Our teacher hails from Pisa, in Tuscany, where, along with Umbria, the purest Italian is spoken. She is a model of patience and humour but it cannot be easy, especially since several of us are within touching distance of our bus passes and retain information for less time than it takes the No. 44 to reach the next stop.
It therefore came as a surprise to discover that our group is at the cutting edge of fashion. In the past two years, the number outwith Italy learning Italian has rocketed, with 1.5 million more of us embarking on this linguistic adventure. This brings the number of students to 2.3 million. Such is the soaring demand, indeed, that Italy’s foreign ministry has set up a web portal to help people locate their nearest class. Its map shows the 83 Italian cultural institutes across the world, one of which, in Edinburgh, is where my Monday evenings are spent. According to Signor Mario Giro, Italy’s Deputy Foreign Minister, “Italian is not a language of power, but of soft power and this is the way to carve out a role for Italian in a globalised world”.
There is something profoundly cheering about this. We could all do with more “soft power” in our lives. Most encouraging of all, it confounds the increasingly menacing mood of international realpolitik where the superpowers appear to be preparing for a stand-off.
Asked the most useful languages to study today, many would probably answer Mandarin or Cantonese, Bengali or Gujarati, or even Russian to reflect the growing economies of China and India and the widening reach of Vladimir Putin’s empire. Yet interest in Italian suggests other influences are at work. Rooted in Latin but formed into a cohesive national tongue only 150 years ago on unification, Italian is both ancient and modern. Dante is credited with transforming it into a language for everyday, elegant conversation.
Despite this, there are still some, especially in the south, who cling to their old dialect, refusing to countenance this upstart lingo, and all but incomprehensible to anyone from Tuscany or Umbria, which is perhaps the point. Yet while Italians are increasingly adulterating their speech with English, as in “lo shopping” and “la baby sitter”, those beyond its borders have woken up to the manifold charms of the country’s culture, style and heritage; also, perhaps, to the musicality and emotional depth of Italian which, like French, manages to be simultaneously exquisite and expressive.
It is cause for reflection that Italian’s appeal is increasing at the same time that British influence is waning, and with it the cachet of English. Nobody can predict the future for either the UK or North America but, as our global status appears set for gradual decline, the health of our national tongue is indubitably at risk. Meanwhile in the US, Spanish is fast becoming the second language and may one day overtake English, no matter how many illegal Mexican arrivals are catapulted by trebuchet over the border from whence they came. It is funny that, only 200 years ago, there were sufficient German immigrants in America for the myth to arise that theirs very nearly became the national language. This was nonsense, not least because even now there is no official language in the USA.
If nothing else, though, such misplaced beliefs show that the shifting sands of the spoken word are the clearest indication of how quickly the political landscape can change, and with it the dominant lingua franca. As Gaels, Walloons and Basques can all attest, nothing more accurately reflects where political power lies than the way those in charge speak and write.
Where foreign languages are concerned, Britain in recent years has been guilty of egregious conceit and carelessness. Perhaps that’s what happens when almost wherever you go in the world people speak English, or apologise for not being able to do so. The steady erosion and downgrading in schools and universities of language departments, the declining numbers of students encouraged to study them, and the closing of departments that teach them, is beyond depressing. Worse, this trend is ignorant and shortsighted. Where once a good grasp of European languages was seen as a sure way to get on in the world, an essential requirement for a flourishing international economy, now with the possible exception of Spanish they are in danger of becoming as forgotten and obsolete as Etruscan. As they drop off the curriculum, what clearer signal need there be of Western Europe’s crumbling stature, and ours within it?
It is only one of the miseries Brexit promises that, with Article 50, the nail will be hammered into English’s coffin. Long before the European Commission’s chief UK-EU divorce broker, Michel Barnier, asked that negotiations be held in French, the perilous position in which our language stands was plain. Shortly, with Britain’s withdrawal from the continent, only Ireland will speak it as natives. Will Irish ministers be obliged to converse soon in German or French, or find themselves muffled in headphones awaiting translation while others chat easily among themselves?
The timing of Italian’s linguistic renaissance suggests that unease and exasperation with political grandstanding and boorishness play a part. Perhaps it represents the ultimate escapism, retreating from the sturm und drang of the big players, to the ideal of a simpler, more refined and sensual way of life. As those of us memorising irregular verbs like to think, Italy is a place where a conversation about the quality of extra virgin olive oil can last into next week. We choose not to think about political upheaval, the appalling level of youth unemployment, the misery caused by earthquakes or the rise of right-wing fanatics. Instead we think of la dolce vita and, as we twist our tongues around fat Italian vowels, hope some of its lustre will fall upon us.
‘‘ Where foreign languages are concerned, Britain in recent years has been guilty of egregious conceit and carelessness