How “Correct” Is British English?<\/p>\n
Copyright 1992 by Alex Gross<\/p>\n
The alleged differences between British and American
\nEnglish have long provided a topic for learned observations,
\nnewspaper articles and even folklore. It is not my intention
\nto rehash any of this material from the past but rather to
\nprovide a fresh look at these two language formations from
\nthe viewpoint of modern linguistics. The conventional view
\nof these differences, both in Britain and to some extent in
\nAmerican scholarly circles, holds that British English is the
\nparent, the model, the arbiter whose usage is to be preferred
\nin almost all cases, while American English is, like the
\ncountry itself, merely some kind of colonial colossus run
\namuck. There is also a built-in linguistic confusion of a
\ndifferent sort–the United States terms itself America, while
\nEngland is in fact called England and its inhabitants
\nEnglish. It therefore seems overwhelmingly logical to assume
\nthat English is their language: after all, they’re English,
\nso it’s theirs, isn’t it? Or is it? At a time when more and
\nmore Europeans, Asians and Africans are learning English as a
\nsecond language, we really need to clarify this otherwise
\nconfusing question. Let us therefore see what kind of light
\nlinguistic principles can shed upon this matter, discarding
\nour partisan prejudices as best we can.<\/p>\n
From the beginning, one is confronted by the assumption
\nthat British usages are “normal” or “correct,” their American
\ncounterparts aberrant, exotic, and\/or “incorrect.” Granted,
\nthis view is increasingly seen as obsolete in the U.K., for
\nas the Prince of Wales, Malcolm Bradbury and others have
\nlamented, the standards of British English have been
\nalarmingly undermined by transatlantic and internationalist
\ntendencies. But these very protests show that British
\nEnglish is still regarded as a “norm,” which many believe
\nthey must aspire to and a few actually attain.<\/p>\n
Let us start with accent, where we will find no shortage
\nof British informants maintaining that American English is
\nextremely “nasal,”–that is, spoken through the nose. It is
\ntherefore further characterized as “twangy,” unpleasant, or
\n(worst of all) unclear. Something called British
\npronunciation is supposed to be the norm for the purpose of
\nthis comparison, and it is also naturally assumed here that
\nonly one British accent need be considered, what is commonly
\nreferred to in Britain (but never referred to in America at
\nall) as RP or `Received Pronunciation.’ Such a rash
\nassumption is easy enough to assail, but we will leave it to
\none side for now and turn our attention to what not only
\nlinguistics but also medical science have to tell us about
\nBritish speech, for this matter of accent is most definitely
\nopen to scientific discussion.<\/p>\n
The truth of the matter, in both linguistic and medical
\nterms, is that it would be just as accurate to refer to
\nBritish English as excessively throaty and hold up American
\nas the “norm.” There is not the slightest doubt from a
\nphysiological point of view that speaking correct British
\nEnglish does involve blocking off one’s throat, bronchi, and
\nlungs to an abnormal extent as compared not only to American
\nEnglish but also the usual accents of many foreign languages.
\nThe medical reasons for this are not at all hard to discover-
\n-it has in fact been known for decades that the national
\nBritish disease par excellence is bronchitis, with asthma
\nrunning a close second. No one who has ever heard some of
\nthe BBC’s roving travelogue narrators wheezing away on the
\nsides of volcanos or breathlessly describing the mating
\nrituals of Bornean lizards can doubt the extent to which
\nthese two respiratory ailments have found their way into
\nReceived Pronunciation. Such deformations are also found in
\nsome northern French accents and in the miasmal quality of
\ncolloquial Italian common in the Arno valley around Florence,
\nalso allegedly a model of its national language. I myself
\ndeveloped fairly good cases of both ailments while living in
\nEngland and Florence, which greatly helped my accent in both
\nlanguages. Thus, it may well be that British English,
\nlong supposed to spring from a high level of breeding,
\nowes its origins instead to a low level of breathing.<\/p>\n
This whole question becomes more than academic when we
\nconsider what impact it may have on foreigners trying to
\nlearn English. Is there really any reason why people from
\nsunny Italy, tropical Africa, or the earth’s higher and drier
\nregions should be forced to contort their throats and
\nwindpipes in an effort to reproduce what may be only an
\naccident of climate? Can the British continue to maintain
\nthat their variety of English is “normal” or preferable in
\nthe light of this information? Most probably they can and
\nwill, but the lesson here for all those with a real interest
\nin linguistic truth is that all forms of speech owe something
\nto climatological factors, and there are specific
\nphysiological reasons–close to engineering reasons in their
\nway–why various accents sound the way they do. In any case,
\nAmerican nasal sounds can make a better claim to being a
\nworld norm than throaty British, since they can be heard in
\nmany other of the world’s languages, including not only
\nFrench and Danish but also many Chinese and Malayan
\nregionalects.<\/p>\n
Differences in accent are one thing, but what about far
\nmore crucial differences in actual words? Surely no one can
\nfault British good taste in this regard, and American
\ncoinages can only be regarded as a necessary nuisance to be
\nlearned for utilitarian reasons and used as little as
\npossible. But here too the situation may turn out to be
\nquite different than imagined. I will not bore
\nthe reader with such already familiar instances as elevator
\nvs. lift, diaper vs. nappy, etc., nor will I attempt to draw
\nany conclusions as to which is better. That way lies merely
\npartisan madness. There are in fact much more striking
\nexamples of usage, ones which deeply illumine the differences
\nbetween British and American society, and it is these which
\nadherents of either persuasion, and especially those
\nembarking on the study of our language, should carefully
\nconsider.<\/p>\n
There are in many languages certain pairs of contrasting
\nwords, often linked in their phonetic structure, which embody
\nand reflect the concerns of those who speak the language.
\nGood and bad are often cited for English, brutto and bello
\nfor Italian, yin and yang in Chinese. But in addition to
\ngood and bad, British English also possesses another basic
\npair of key words. These words do not figure in at all the
\nsame way in American English. They are almost constantly on
\npeople’s lips in Britain, yet they are used so differently in
\nthe UK as to actually require a translation into American
\nEnglish. And although these two words do get used frequently
\nenough in America, they are simply not linked in the same
\nway, and their usage in the US requires a translation the
\nother way into British terms. I will discuss in some detail
\nhow these two words reflect their respective societies and am
\nillustrating their two-way cross-translation in the form of a
\ntable. The two words are rude and kind.<\/p>\n
RUDE VS. KIND IN AMERICAN & ENGLISH<\/p>\n
Translation into English Translation into
\n of the American Meaning American of the
\n English Meaning<\/p>\n
rude overtly insulting direct, brusque<\/p>\n
kind actively civil, normally
\n compassionate, responsive
\n charitable<\/p>\n
Since it is scarcely at issue that these two words are
\nused quite differently in Britain and the U.S., my question
\nfrom the outset will be, in line with the title of this
\narticle, which is in fact the “correct” usage? And can the
\nquestion of which is “correct” be separated from larger
\nissues of politics, customs, and social systems? Most
\nAmericans who spend time in England soon become aware of
\nthese words being used in a strange off-center way, which
\nthey may not be able to pin down and may dismiss as “quaint”
\nor “eccentric” or excessively “polite.” They will constantly
\nfind themselves being told how kind they are to have done
\nsomething, when they know perfectly well that they have not
\nbeen kind at all, merely civil or normally responsive. As an
\nexample, if you pass the sugar to a stranger in a cafeteria,
\nhe may reply, “How kind of you,” or “Frightfully kind.”<\/p>\n
But this does not qualify as “kind” at all in America,
\njust barely civil, at best “polite.” This is why our table
\nshows “civil” or “normally responsive” as the translation
\ninto American of the British usage. The difference is so
\ngreat that there might be a case for dropping a footnote on
\nthe pages of all English articles and books where the word
\n“kind” is used, explaining what it means in American.
\nSimilarly, the English word “rude,” which marks the opposite
\nof “kind,” is used in an equally off-center way. Words,
\ndeeds, or attitudes which would scarcely merit this
\ndescription in America are constantly being described as
\n“rude” in England. Very specific ritual phrases and
\nmutterings, which we will soon describe, must accompany any
\nact, question or statement in England, lest they be called
\n“rude.” Since Americans make their way through life without
\nobserving any of these protocols–indeed, without being aware
\nof the existence of such ritual phrases and mutterings,
\nalmost anything they do or say is likely to be labelled rude,
\nand so it is no surprise that the two words “rude American”
\nare frequently heard together in England. This is simply
\nbecause what an American may consider the normal, direct way
\nof doing things, as galling as this may be to many would-be
\nanglophile Americans, is considered “rude” in England. In
\nfact, the English word “rude” should probably be translated
\nas we have it in our table: “direct” or a bit “brusque.” It
\nprobably describes the way not only Americans but many other
\nof the world’s peoples go about their lives.<\/p>\n
Here too a relatively impartial linguistic analysis may
\nbe useful. The anthropologist Edward Hall has done much of
\nour work for us in setting up different levels of social
\ndistance defined by different cultures and embedded in their
\nlanguage (1). His two most famous examples are the different
\nsocial distances observed by Japanese and Americans and by
\nspeakers of Arabic and Americans. There can be no doubt that
\nwe are witnessing a comparable cultural phenomenon between
\nBritons and Americans as well, and these differences are
\nequally well reflected in language.<\/p>\n
The proof of this is that these usages of “rude” and
\n“kind” cut both ways. Many British friends visiting the U.S.
\nhave expressed to me their impressions that Americans are
\ngoing out of their way to be explicitly rude to them,
\nespecially during their first weeks in the country–and often
\ntheir only ones–so that they do not discover that a
\ndifference in social space might be involved. Edward Hall
\ndescribes much the same thing happening to him in his
\nrelations with the Japanese. Most Britons unfortunately do
\nnot remain in America long enough to break through this
\nbarrier, and so it is supposed that Americans go on forever
\nbeing impossibly “rude” to one another but are simply too
\ninsensitive to notice. For this reason, I have also provided
\ntranslations of the American meanings into English: for
\n“rude,” overtly, and often personally, insulting; and for
\n“kind,” actively compassionate.<\/p>\n
The reason for this different social space, at least as
\nfar as I have ever been able to discover, is that the British
\ndo indeed feel themselves more distant from one another than
\ndo Americans (2). Any violation of their personal or psychic
\nspace by another counts as “rude.” Minimal observance or
\nnon-violation of this space gets graded as “kind.” To my
\nknowledge no other European language makes such a
\ndistinction. One might credit all of this to overcrowding or
\nto class differences or once again to the weather–or even to
\na combination of the three–but for whatever reason the
\nBritish choose to remain, as has been noted for ages, fairly
\naloof from one another. They are of course famous for
\ninsisting on prolonged conversations about the weather with
\nstrangers before they will discuss any further matters with
\nthem. This would all qualify as no more than anecdotal,
\nexcept that it once again has definite consequences for all
\nwho wish to learn British English<\/p>\n
The point once again is this: out of all Europeans,
\nperhaps only some Scandinavians might agree with the British
\non their concept of social distance and their distinctions
\nbetween “rude” and “kind.” Most other Europeans, while they
\nmight occasionally pay lip service to such distinctions, live
\nlives a good deal closer to the American view. As do most
\npeoples of Asia, Africa, and South America for that matter.
\nShould all these peoples, when and if they choose to learn
\nEnglish, also be required to accept the British definitions
\nin this field as the “correct” ones? And if so required, are
\nthey likely to obey?<\/p>\n
As we shall see, this concept of “social distance” has
\nfurther consequences in every stage of learning British
\nEnglish. Let us first take a simple conversational question,
\none quite likely to be asked by or of newcomers but one which
\nalso illustrates the different rules for American and
\nEnglish. If, for example, you are in New York and you wish
\nto find Fifth Avenue, you may turn to most passers-by and
\nsimply say, “Which way is Fifth Avenue?” This is a perfectly
\ncorrect way of phrasing this question in American English,
\none both used and understood by natives. You might also say,
\n“Excuse me, which way is Fifth Avenue?” but you could also
\nget away with just saying “Fifth Avenue?” and producing the
\nquestion mark with your voice–it’s not as nice, but it will
\nget you there. If you felt the need to be extremely polite,
\nsay with an older man or perhaps with a woman, you might go
\nso far as to say, “Excuse me, which way is Fifth Avenue
\nplease?”<\/p>\n
In England even this last phrasing might mark you as
\nextremely “rude,” if not actively hostile–depending on your
\naccent, you would be classed as a Northerner, a foreigner
\nwith poor English, someone from the lower classes, or a “rude
\nAmerican.” This is because you are obliged to say things
\nquite differently in England–we shall now see what was meant
\nby ritual phrases and murmurings. Let us now suppose you are
\nin London and wish to find your way to Leicester Square. As
\nastounding as it may seem, the full correct form of your
\nquestion, including all its linguistic and stylistic
\nsubtleties, is as follows:<\/p>\n
“I beg your pardon. I’m terribly sorry
\n to bother you, but I wonder if I could
\n possibly trouble you to inform me as to
\n how I might find Leicester Square.”<\/p>\n
This is not intended as a joke, though it may sound like
\none to some. It was the full and correct form of asking a
\nquestion during my time in England and, from everything I
\nhear from friends and see on TV, still remains very much the
\nstandard. Its multiple phrases permits your British
\ninterlocutor 1) to realize he is being addressed; 2) to
\ndecide whether he wishes to bother answering; and 3) to
\ndevise some sort of reply. Your chances of obtaining one
\nwill be greatly increased if you pronounce the name Leicester
\ncorrectly, another hidden land-mine in the question.<\/p>\n
So much for simple, relatively neutral questions. Now
\nlet’s suppose you really want to get down to brass tacks with
\nsomeone and have a serious discussion, even an argument if
\nneed be. There are in all societies rules and conventions
\nsurrounding such conversations, and neither America nor
\nBritain is an exception. Nonetheless, it would still be
\npossible in America to turn to someone you knew moderately
\nwell and say:<\/p>\n
“Damn it, Jim, you’re all wet about the
\n Chinese. You don’t know what you’re
\n talking about.”<\/p>\n
This would not do at all in England. While such a
\nstatement might lead to further and more intense argument in
\nAmerica, it would not necessarily offend Jim or anyone else,
\nand it certainly would not lead to the end of the
\nconversation or a breach of friendship. In England it almost
\ncertainly would. The approved British form for saying
\nessentially the same thing runs more or less as follows:<\/p>\n
“There is great merit in what you say. I
\n could not help but applaud as I heard you
\n state your views, and I have on countless
\n occasions in the past found myself coming
\n to much the same conclusions, though of
\n course I have never been able to phrase
\n them as skilfully as you just have.
\n There is no doubt in my mind that you are
\n essentially correct in every particular,
\n and I would not presume to amend your
\n statement in the slightest detail. But I
\n must admit that I find myself compelled
\n to point out that it might conceivably be
\n to your advantage to consider the
\n following circumstances regarding the
\n Chinese, however irrelevant they might
\n seem at first hearing…..”<\/p>\n
As many Americans may find this uproariously funny, I
\nmust insist once again that this is not my intention. It
\ntruly shows how the English may address you, and it also
\nreflects how you must address them in your reply if you are
\nto have any hope of communicating with them. You are still a
\nlong way from expressing what it was you really wanted to
\nsay, but at least you are on your way, and provided you have
\nomitted none of the obligatory politesses and murmurings and
\nprovided your tone of voice conveys complete sincerity–and
\nyour accent is correct and you commit no major gaffes in your
\nchoice of words–you may have a chance of getting an idea
\nacross.<\/p>\n
Anything less may well be dismissed as rude or
\n“embarrassing,” another key word with different meanings in
\nEngland and the States. Many remarks, questions, and
\nchallenges considered unexceptional in the U.S. would be
\nregarded as deeply “embarrassing” in Britain. This attitude
\nis in fact embedded within British libel laws, under which
\nstatements are open to prosecution not because they are false
\nbut because someone may find them “embarrassing.” Needless
\nto say, as has been frequently observed by British and
\nAmerican journalists alike, these laws present a considerable
\nobstacle to free discussion.<\/p>\n
Once again, which of our two versions is the “correct”
\none? Is it inevitably the British one, or is another choice
\npossible? This choice is ultimately a very practical matter
\nand belongs to the learner. Those who speak Japanese with
\nall its honorifics or Chinese with its multiple self-
\nabnegations may find the British version a challenge, may in
\nfact be disappointed if a language offers any fewer
\nsubtleties than British English. Or they may not. What is
\nimportant is that this level of knowledge should be available
\nto all learning either variety of English before they begin
\ntheir studies.<\/p>\n
The differences between the two versions of English
\nextend to the structural level. There are some specific
\ndifferences between British and American in verb forms used
\nfor declarative sentences and in how questions are asked.
\nThey are not at all subtle differences, though they require
\ncareful study, and they are not to be found in the grammar
\nbooks. To begin with, the Assertive-Interrogative form–or
\nwhat I will call the “Isn’t It?” structure has a totally
\ndifferent function in British than in American. In the
\nUnited States, this structure is normally used to express
\ndoubt, even of one’s own judgment, for example:<\/p>\n
“Today is the right day, *isn’t it?*”<\/p>\n
“My god, I did bring that book, *didn’t I?*”<\/p>\n
In England, however, this simple structure, which we all
\nuse every day and which can color our attitudes towards our
\nown thought processes, is often used quite differently. It
\nexpresses not doubt at all, but rather confirmation of one’s
\npreviously held views or prejudices. Two typical examples:<\/p>\n
“It’s quite the best, isn’t it?”<\/p>\n
“We English have always done that sort of thing far
\nbetter, haven’t we?”<\/p>\n
In fact, despite the question mark, no question is being
\nasked at all, rather an assertion is being made. The answer
\n“Of course!” is assumed, even expected. This structure can
\non occasion be used in a similar fashion by Americans, but
\nfar less frequently than in England (3).<\/p>\n
Another British-only structure which reaffirms existing
\nprejudices in the mind of the speaker is what I call the
\nReinforcing Conditional form, often utilizing the “I should
\nhave thought” sequence. It is constantly heard whenever one
\nexpresses any idea the slightest bit novel and usually means,
\nif you are the one who has provoked it, that someone has
\ndecided you are quite mistaken and will go on believing what
\nthey always did, regardless of what you may have said or will
\never say. If, for example, one is discussing the
\npermissibility of tea with lemon as a beverage, the response
\nmay well be:<\/p>\n
“Really? I should have thought it would be frightfully
\nbitter.”<\/p>\n
And that is that, your conversation has effectively
\nended. Although you may go on arguing, you will achieve
\nnothing except to demonstrate that you are an insensitive
\nforeigner. Here too the would-be learner of English must
\nmake his or her own decision. Mastery of the “Isn’t It” and
\n“I should have thought” structures is absolutely central to
\nspeaking “correct” English, though these phrases are never
\ntaught in class and will, like much of the other material
\ndiscussed here, tend to bypass, confuse or irritate
\nAmericans.<\/p>\n
I could go on at great length here about the best and
\nworst ways of communicating with the British, but I am
\nconcerned here only with a serious examination of the
\ndifferences between British and American as they affect
\nlanguage learning. I have already discussed accent to some
\nextent, and I will now return to it only in so far as it
\naffects the pronunciation of individual words. Many people
\nthroughout the world are convinced that a British accent is
\nfar more distinguished, cultivated and definitive than what
\npasses for American speech. This of course also makes it
\nmore “correct,” and it goes without saying that the British
\npronunciation of any given word must be preferable to Yankee
\nmumbling. As we will soon see, this is far from being the
\ncase.<\/p>\n
Many of these same people also assume that they can
\nachieve a proper British accent simply by substituting broad
\nEnglish A’s for all those frightful American “a-as-in-fast”
\nsounds. Since this assumption is widespread among many
\nstudents of English, the following example may be useful as a
\ntest of how well it works. Try reading this passage aloud
\nwith what you believe to be a correct English accent, and
\nthen check your way of saying it against the “correct,”
\n“received” pronunciation given at the end of this article.
\nUnless I am mistaken, even quite a few Britons will
\nignominiously fail at least part of this test, which may also
\nprovide a measure of the difficulties involved. Here’s the
\npassage:<\/p>\n
“The fancy falcon cast a dastardly pass
\n after an unfastened ass with asthma. By
\n Bacchus, what a disastrous aftermath!
\n Mere mastery of this scanty example
\n cannot mask your transatlantic,
\n antipodean, or lower class antecedents.”<\/p>\n
It is for readers to decide, after perusing the
\n“correct” version of this little quiz, how “correct” they
\nwant their own English to be. In fact, as few as twenty
\npercent of Britons are likely to pronounce this passage close
\nto “correctly” (and perhaps only ten percent will get it
\ntotally “right”). These all too probable results raise
\nconsiderable questions as to whether the British should go on
\nteaching this as correct pronunciation and whether the
\neditors of the Oxford English Dictionary (our source here)
\nshould continue marking vowels as they now do.<\/p>\n
The point of this example is to point out, in case any
\nfurther evidence were needed, that the British form of
\nEnglish is in its way an armed camp, bristling with devices
\nto repel the foreigner, the invader, yes, the learner. These
\ndevices may even be aimed at the people of Britain. During
\nmy time in the UK, I was sufficiently skilled with languages
\nto make it past a number of these barriers, only to find
\nothers yet in waiting. I believe it possible that such
\nbarriers may ultimately be directed not so much against
\nAmericans or foreigners–who are perhaps only an after-
\nthought–as against the British themselves. It may be that
\ntheir existence has something to do with class differences in
\nBritain.<\/p>\n
And yet the impression persists that where pronunciation
\nis concerned, the British can do no wrong, that any British
\npronunciation of a word must by its very nature be far
\nsuperior to anything any mere colonial might ever say. The
\ninfluence of this belief has been evident in recent years in
\nthe use by some American TV-casters of “weekEND” instead of
\nthe older “WEEKend” or the occasional “checkMATE'” for
\nCHECKmate. Suffice it to say that there is not the slightest
\nlinguistic, phonetic, or stylistic reason for preferring the
\nformer to the latter (or for that matter vice versa). But
\nthis is only the tip of the iceberg: leaving to one side
\nthese questions of faddish taste, the English have long been
\ndemonstrably guilty of committing such wholesale errors of
\npronunciation all on their own that there is really no way
\nany objective person can possibly defend them.<\/p>\n
Here, surprisingly or not, those who disagree may not be
\nBritish but American. So vast is the certainty in some
\nAmerican circles that where pronunciation is concerned, the
\nBritish can do no wrong that I can already hear the chorus of
\nAmerican objectors trying to shout me down with cries of “If
\nit’s British, it must be cultivated” or even “Look, it’s
\nBritish–let’s pretend it’s cultivated, even if it isn’t.”
\nSomething comparable once occurred to my wife and me in
\nLondon when we attended an educational production of
\nFielding’s hilarious satire Tom Thumb, the play that
\ntriggered the infamous Licensing Act.<\/p>\n
This play is obviously a comedy, replete with characters
\nnamed Huncamunca and Floradora. It litters the stage with
\neven more corpses than Hamlet and contains numerous quite
\nfunny parodies of bad pentameter lines from Fielding’s time,
\nsuch as “Oh, Huncamunca, Huncamunca, Oh.” We came quite
\nprepared, having reread the play beforehand. The cast and
\nproduction were quite proficient, and naturally we began to
\nlaugh. No one else was laughing. Soon people around us
\nbegan to shush and hiss us and tell us to shut up. We did
\nso, more or less, in somewhat servile fashion. At the break
\nwe were castigated: “How dare you laugh? How dare you
\ninterrupt the beautiful poetry?” These good Englishmen were
\nunable to tell one pentameter line from another. Because it
\nwas pentameter, it had to be poetry. I insert this before my
\ninstances of what in the U.S. might be called “BBC Bloopers,”
\nbecause it shows that many British still have a tin ear for
\npoetry. Or for pronunciation. There is simply no other way
\nof phrasing it.<\/p>\n
We’ve seen what the British do to their own language–
\nnow let’s look at how they handle foreign words and names.
\nIt isn’t as though one can’t hear such names and places
\nmispronounced in the U.S. But the British do it with
\nabsolute abandon, as though that’s what the blighters deserve
\nanyway, and “our” way of saying their words is better than
\n“theirs” anyway. Not a touch of false humility here. Before
\nI get upset by Scarlatti pronounced with not one but two
\nshort “a”s, a truly difficult feat (try it yourself), I
\nshould perhaps explain that in the pronunciation of Latin the
\nBritish never went through the great century-long debate we
\nhad in the US between advocates of Church Latin and
\nneoclassical Latin. It never occurred to Britons (nor does
\nit today) to pronounce Latin in any but a totally English
\nway, complete with modern English accent and diphthongs.<\/p>\n
This fairly typifies their approach to pronouncing
\nforeign words. But the actual examples one hears continually
\non the BBC suggest that there is no approach or method at
\nall. Each announcer seems to invent his own mispronunciation
\nas he goes along. We will quite overlook the announcer
\ntotally unable to say Brest-Litovsk in any form and also not
\ndally to fight over PortuGUESE for PORTuguese. Or the 1991
\ncultural extravaganza about the history of map-making, where
\none heard both “Magellan” and “longitude” pronounced with “g”
\nas in “go.” Nor will we really bother with MY-thology where
\nAmericans would say “mith-ology,” or quite the opposite logic
\nof ID-olatry for US eye-dolatry. There is simply no logic
\nfor these British choices, and we suspect they are just
\nmaking things up as they go along.<\/p>\n
Matters do become a mite more serious when we come to
\nthe name of a part of the world that has been in the news for
\nat least three decades, and in the Bible before that.
\nApparently the entire British population is suffering from a
\ncollective eye disease, and not a soul in Albion is capable
\nof seeing that the name Sinai (as in Sinai peninsula, Moses,
\nand all that) has two–and only two–syllables. I do not
\nbelieve I have ever met a single Briton–or heard a single
\nBBC announcer–who did not add an extra “ee” and pronounce it
\nSIGH-nee-eye. I really would like to know the reason for
\nthis.<\/p>\n
Perhaps because I am partial to aspects of Japanese
\nculture, I find the pronunciation Sam-Your-Eye for Samurai
\n(closer to correct, Sah-moo-rye) even more wrenching. But
\nthe worst of all is yet to come: not only every British
\nannouncer in the world pronounces it this way, but even the
\nlate Graham Greene, an author whom I had long respected,
\nrecently let the U.S. have it for its deeds in Nicker-RAG-
\nYou-Ah. Like many Americans I have mixed feelings over
\ncertain events in Nicaragua (which nonetheless recently
\ndecided at the polls against Mr. Greene), but his
\npronunciation alone has convinced me that he could know
\nvirtually nothing about this land. It was every bit as anti-
\nHispanic as American policy. Perhaps as punishment he should
\nhave been made to spend the last of his days in Man-NAG-You-
\nAh, Nicker-RAG-You-Ah and pronounce both of these names
\ncorrectly several hundred times each day. If he did, it
\nwould sound more like a lilting Mah-nah-wah, Nee-ka-rah-wah,
\nwith almost no “G” sound at all. Once again, one may ask, is
\nthere any reason why foreigners learning British English,
\nmany of whom will be able to pronounce these words more
\ncorrectly, should be forced to duplicate such grotesque
\nexamples?<\/p>\n
None of the examples I have presented would be of more
\nthan anecdotal interest, were it not for a slightly more
\ndisturbing factor that has recently become evident. It may
\nturn out to be of no lasting significance, but the widely
\nrespected editor of a major British publication on language
\nhas recently declared something of a war on American English.
\nThis gentleman has actually proclaimed his variety of British
\nEnglish as a major means of preventing a “shallow Dallas or
\nCoca-Cola uniform world culture with bad English as the
\ninternational language.” English eccentricism being what it
\nis, it is probable that we will hear no more of this.<\/p>\n
And yet there are some strains in the current British
\nmake-up suggesting that such linguistic fascism may be more
\nthan a flash in the pan. When Dean Acheson pointed out a few
\ndecades ago that the British had lost an empire but not yet
\nfound a role for themselves, it provoked a degree of anger
\namong the British difficult to imagine for those who did not
\nwitness it. And yet this observation had–and has–a ring of
\ntruth to it. If the British have not been successful in
\nfinding a new role in the world, it has certainly not been
\nfrom want of trying. When Stalin died in 1953, millions of
\nBritons mourned almost inconsolably, for they had come to
\nbelieve that communism\/socialism would provide them with a
\nsurrogate emotional empire. And all through the ‘Sixties and
\n‘Seventies a belief in socialism as the “wave of the future,”
\nwith Britain as its vanguard, was frequently invoked to
\njustify looking down on Americans and their language as a low
\nand reactionary life-form. Now communism is dead, and
\nsocialism has been–whether rightly or wrongly–challenged in
\nmany countries, so it is not surprising that the British
\nwould be out role-hunting again. Nor is it surprising that
\nsome might be hoping to find that role in a neo-imperialist,
\nneo-colonialist campaign for British English. In a world
\nfull of so many potentially dangerous atavisms, one can only
\nhope that their quest will not prove successful.<\/p>\n
All of the instances I have suggested simply overwhelm
\nreason, but I will now do my best to recall some semblance of
\nobjectivity and sum up my theme in a cogent manner. I
\napologize to my many British friends and colleagues within
\nAlbion and around the world if I have inflicted any real pain
\nupon them. My apology is real and heart-felt, for I have
\nlived in Britain long enough to have gained profound respect
\nfor its history and culture. But I do think it is a
\nlegitimate part of my exercise to ensure that a people who
\nhas heaped so much condescension on others over so many
\nyears, particularly where language is concerned, should have
\nat least some passing notion of what it feels like to be
\ncondescended towards in this regard. <\/p>\n
\tAs I have said earlier, it is
\nextremely important that those many people now learning
\nEnglish should have some idea what they may be getting into
\nwhen they choose to learn one variety or another. There is
\nreally no way to learn a foreign language without also
\nabsorbing a great deal of its social, political and
\nphilosophical outlook. This is equally true whether one
\nchooses to learn British or American English. It is for
\nlearners themselves to choose, but they must have all
\nnecessary knowledge available to them in order to make an
\ninformed choice. Whether they ultimately choose British or
\nAmerican or another language altogether, let us hope that
\nthey make a wise choice leading all of our nations to an era
\nof sustained world peace.<\/p>\n
SOLUTION TO THE MYSTERY
\n OF THE “ALL-TEASE FALCON”<\/p>\n
And here is the “correct” pronunciation for our passage.
\nSource is the OED or any upper-class Oxonian type available,
\nwho will breeze through the test without blinking and wonder
\nwhat all the fuss is about. The only real catch is the word
\n“falcon” itself, which has neither a broad nor a short “A”
\nbut a choice between “faw-kun” and “fawl-kun.” For the rest,
\nthe broad A’s (A as in fAther) are capitalized. The others
\nare short, with just one strange exception: “what” given as
\n“wot,” rhyming with “not” and not an “h” sound in sight.<\/p>\n
“The fancy fawlcon (or fawcon) cAst a
\n dastardly pAss After an unfAstened ass
\n with asthma. By Bacchus, what (wot?) a
\n disAstrous Aftermath! Mere mAstery of
\n this scanty exAmple cannot mAsk your
\n transatlantic, antipodean, or lower clAss
\n antecedents.”<\/p>\n
If you don’t agree with my version, don’t argue with me:
\ntake it up with the OED or the British at large. A number of
\nthem may well agree with you.<\/p>\n
NOTES:<\/p>\n
1. Hall’s most famous work expounding this theme is The
\nHidden Dimension, Doubleday, Garden City, NY, 1966. He
\ndiscusses allied themes in Beyond Culture (1977) and The
\nSilent Language (1959).<\/p>\n
2. The British computer translation consultant John
\nNewton provides me with a dramatic instance of this social
\ndistance. He was travelling on a Spanish airplane when the
\ncaptain’s voice came over announcing: “Senoras y Senores,
\nahora estamos volando sobre la ciudad de Madrid, por abajo se
\npuede ver el Paseo de…..” (“Ladies and gentlemen, we are
\nnow passing over the city of Madrid, down below you can
\nsee…..”). He found himself wondering how one could
\npossibly translate this event, familiar to those flying the
\nairlines of most nations, into British English for a British
\naudience. British pilots certainly would not do this sort of
\nthing, nor have British passengers been inclined to request
\nit.<\/p>\n
3. I first described the “Assertive-Interrogative” form
\nin the mid ‘Seventies, and when I came to write this article,
\nI wondered if I wasn’t being a bit hard on the British about
\nit. I was close to softening my approach when I discovered
\nJohn Algeo’s “It’s a Myth, Innit? Politeness and the English
\nTag Question,” published in The State of the Language, Univ.
\nof Cal. Press, 1990 and in a longer form in English World-
\nWide 9 (1988): 171-91. Algeo is far harder on the British
\nthan I have presumed to be–he openly states that they are
\nnot a “polite race” and identifies five different categories
\nof these “tag questions,” which he ranges from informational
\nand confirmatory to peremptory and aggressive.<\/p>\n
Much of the contents of this article is abridged and
\nadapted from the English chapters of the author’s Inside the
\n‘Sixties, What Really Happened on a World-Wide Scale, an
\nunpublished manuscript.<\/p>\n
Alex Gross resided in London between 1963 and 1971,
\nwhere he and his wife were active in the theatre, literary
\nand artistic worlds. He served as a literary adviser to the
\nRSC from 1965 to 1970, and his translations of German plays
\nwere produced by them and other British theatre companies.
\nSeveral members of his family have been and remain British
\nsubjects. His father, who published the A to Z Guide to
\nLondon, knew Lloyd George, and Lloyd George knew his father.<\/p>\n
\tNOTE: This article is scheduled to be published in two
\nparts in the February and March 1992 issues of Translation News.<\/p>\n
