Graduation Ceremony 3
Academic Oration
Tuesday 23 November 2010 at 1630hrs
JESUITS’ CHURCH – VALLETTA
Professor Sandro Caruana
Head of Department of Arts & Languages
Faculty of Education
In La Tregua (1963), Primo Levi, an Italian author and chemist of Jewish origins,
recounts his liberation from a concentration camp at the end of the Second World War. A
particularly striking episode regards his acquaintance with a Greek, who he simply calls il
greco, who once liberated after years of imprisonment, joins the crowd of fleeing
prisoners with an impressively shiny pair of shoes. Levi’s shoes, on the other hand, were
torn and tattered and fell to bits after walking a few kilometres. As he sat down, unable to
walk on, il greco came over and asked:
- Quanti anni hai? (How old are you)
- Venticinque – risposi (I’m twenty-five)
- Qual è il tuo mestiere? (What’s your job?)
- Sono chimico (I’m a chemist)
- Allora sei uno sciocco – mi disse tranquillamente –
Chi non ha scarpe è uno sciocco. (Then you’re silly – he told me calmly
– He who does not have shoes is silly)
Il greco had contemplated that although now they were out of the concentration camp
they still had to reach a safe destination which meant embarking on a long journey,
largely on foot, in cold weather conditions. Primo Levi had not anticipated that a
comfortable pair of shoes was vital. Il greco was right: to move away from the
concentration camp and to reach their final goal after years of suffering, good shoes were
indispensable.
Languages are our shoes. One may be highly specialised in one’s field of competence and
an expert in a specific subject area. However, unless one possesses the necessary
linguistic competencies to elaborate thoughts and to express oneself, it is hard to gain the
respect of peers and to build a positive reputation.
Our linguistic capabilities are, after all, amongst the features which distinguish us humans
from animals. Though the latter do possess communicative skills, these are largely
instinctive. Language and communication in humans are also partly instinct, but verbal
communication is mainly a cognitive ability. Evidence of this is also seen in the
complexities of first and second language acquisition – areas which have been the object
of research in various and varied fields. The huge diversity of languages spoken is, in a
sense, nothing short of a reflection of the creative potential of the human brain and the
field which investigates how language is processed, Neurolinguistics, is an area of
ongoing research, what one might call un cantiere aperto (‘an open shipyard’); even the
speed and apparent ease with which children learn one, two and sometimes even more
languages, is yet far from being comprehended fully. In most countries worldwide,
different languages coexist and interact and we often find situations of multilingualism
rather than of monolingualism. The monolingual situation of many large European
countries, where one language equals one nation, is the exception not the rule and is
anyway subject to debate in these countries too, if one also takes into consideration the
use of dialects. After all, as the Yiddish linguist Max Weinreich once stated: ‘a language
is a dialect with an army and a navy’. The language-dialect dichotomy is undoubtedly
more of a socio-political nature, rather than a linguistic one.
Before I address more specifically the issue of linguistic diversity and our innate
capability to learn languages, it is necessary to highlight that despite the fact that there are
so many languages spoken in the world, languages and communication present a number
of surprisingly significant points of contact. I am not only referring here to the
Chomskyian quest of a Universal Grammar, a quest which in its own nature is highly
specialised, but also to communicative features we all share. These are especially evident
in non-verbal communication, which is fundamentally the most instinctive part of our
communicative repertoire. When we meet individuals whose language we do not
understand we still can comprehend and interpret the meaning of a smile, a frown, a
grimace. We can all see pain, joy, fear, anxiety in people’s eyes. What is also noteworthy
is how all these aspects of non-verbal communication are represented when we, and more
frequently the younger ones among us, chat on their computer or write SMSs. The
various symbols or ‘emoticons’ used (such as the to represent humour, agreement, joy...)
are simply ways of representing graphically what cannot be expressed in words. Is this
not, in so many ways, similar to what mankind has done over the centuries, to Stone Age
cave inscriptions or to Egyptian hieroglyphics? The linguistic features of chatting on
computer, using Facebook or writing SMSs share a remarkable number of characteristics
which in the course of history led to the formation of the various alphabets we use today.
I often tell my university students that if they think that the use of such symbols is a
product of modern times they are wrong. It is something that mankind has always done
since when the necessity to communicate graphically was felt. These symbols, which we
once wrote on walls and which today we write digitally, demonstrate our creative ability
when we communicate and show how many communicative functions can easily be
shared even with those whose language we do not comprehend.
Though the main function of language is undoubtedly that of enabling communication
between individuals, languages are also an inherent part of our identity: our first language
is our ‘mother tongue’ a term which immediately conveys a sense of endearment. Yet,
despite the fact that we often identify ourselves strongly with the language (or languages)
we claim as ‘ours’, and although this may also serve (in both positive and negative ways)
to distinguish us from the ‘other’, it is a known fact among linguists and language
educators that our mother tongue is the language in our repertoire which we take most
for-granted and on which we do not reflect often. May I ask, for example, all speakers of
Maltese present here today whether they ever thought why possessive terms like ommi
(my mother), sieqi (my foot), dari (my home) are perfectly acceptable in Maltese, but
then terms like *ktiebi or *siġġi (which theoretically, could be equivalent respectively to
‘my book’ and ‘my chair’), which reproduce by analogy the very same possessive
feature, are considered unacceptable, ungrammatical and horrifying errors from the point
of view of a teacher of Maltese. By asking you to reflect on this, I am simply illustrating
how we unconsciously form sets of rules which we apply in some cases and we do not in
others, often without really being aware of why this occurs. As we speak, we
unknowingly use our cognitive potential to choose one option rather than another and to
select what is grammatically correct and what is not, as well as what is communicatively
adequate and what is inadequate within a specific context.
Once I have mentioned some features of Maltese, I cannot fail to mention how foreign
colleagues are often intrigued by our sociolinguistic context and by the way that our
language reflects the permutations of our history. A fundamental characteristic of the
Maltese language is its ability to integrate loanwords from other languages in a highly
resourceful process. For instance, when an Italian colleague recognises the term tappeto
in tapit (carpet), the word chiave in ċavetta (key), the Napoletan ciuco (donkey) in ċuċ
(idiot) it is easy to establish common grounds on which to further discussion and
reflection. Needless to say, when the same Italian colleague is informed that tapit has an
Arabic plural formation, twapet, and likewise ċavetta - ċwievet and ċuċ - ċwieċ he/she is
prompt enough to realise how the roots of Maltese are Arabic and how indeed the
stratification of Maltese is nothing short of a perfect reflection of our nation’s past.
Maltese is therefore the result of a series of linguistic processes which in themselves are
the result of contact and diversity. If this would not have occurred, if Maltese had been
unable to integrate words from other languages, it would probably be extinct by now.
Creativity, flexibility and the ability to integrate what comes from outside have proved to
be important assets for our mother tongue.
The Maltese language we speak today, like many other languages, has therefore gone
through a process of language contact which shaped it internally. Furthermore throughout
its history it has had to face struggles to survive alongside other languages which were
considerably more widespread and which, in the days gone by, were locally also
considered to be more prestigious than Maltese. As a result of this we now often speak of
a bilingual, and sometimes multilingual, situation. This ought to be considered a huge
richness both at a personal and a social level. One, of course, may question this
consideration and ask why, even in practical terms, I here speak so positively about biand multlingualism. After all, even Almighty God Himself, in the biblical Tower of
Babel, punished man’s greed and zeal by imposing many tongues on him, thereby
rendering communication impossible. Yet, to me, linguistic and consequently cultural
diversity is at the very heart of the nature of mankind and, may I stress my choice of
terms, Malta is blessed with bilingualism and, in some cases, tri- and plurilingualism.
What is being done, at various levels, not merely to safeguard, but also to nourish and
develop this richness which we have inherited from our ancestors? Undoubtedly the
status of Maltese has improved immensely in recent history: this is a fact we are all proud
of and rightly so. Long gone are the days in which Maltese was il-lingwa tal-kċina (the
language of the kitchen), a language which only had the status of a spoken local
vernacular and which at times was derided and mocked. What about the situation of
English in Malta? I will not here dwell on the frequent laments heard at university
regarding the falling standards of English, at least at a written level, though I do feel
alarmed (and quite amused) when I receive an email from someone who misspells
‘graduate’ with the result that she writes instead that she is a ‘grandaunt’, or when a
student writes of problems that ‘arouse’ rather than ‘arose’.... though there would be
much to say, I will just limit myself to a single consideration: we need to develop more
awareness of the fact that the English language is a very important inheritance for us all
here in Malta. It is our window to the world and helps us gain access to a wealth of
knowledge. Safeguarding, developing and promoting the use of Maltese – the language of
our identity – is a process which has to be complementary, and not in conflict with, the
maintenance and the improvement of the standards of English locally.
Allow me also to spare a thought for Italian which is, after all, the language which
pertains to my field of specialisation: sociolinguistic changes over the recent years are
clearly leading to considerably less exposure to Italian in Malta. If this decline were
accompanied by an improvement in standards of other languages or if another language
had taken the place of Italian, I would not be too concerned. But this is not the case. We
are possibly facing a situation where we are gradually losing touch with a language which
has, after all, played a significant role in our history and which is also part of our identity.
Just think of the amount of words in Maltese which are of Italian origin. Are we therefore
presently in a situation wherein, from trilingualism (or plurilingualism), we have moved
to pervasive bilingualism? Or worse still, in some cases, monolingualism? Or even worse
still, in some extreme situations, to semilingualism, with individuals who do not master
correctly even a single language? In this respect I must reiterate that we all do have the
capability of improving the languages we already are familiar with. Our innate linguistic
abilities, which I referred to earlier, combined with our multilingual history which has
also shaped the Maltese language, offer us the conditions to do this. Do not take the
languages you know for granted and if the opportunity to learn a new language ever
arises, do not shirk from it.
Let me conclude this oration on a positive note, namely the worthwhile effort involved in
language teaching and learning. If you agree with a few of the remarks I have made
above and if you are familiar with some of the situations I have mentioned, the key to
their improvement or solution lies in language learning. This means both attaining further
awareness of the structures and functions of our mother tongue as well as furthering our
knowledge of second and foreign languages. As I have attempted to argue today, we all
have the capability to improve our linguistic skills and to learn languages. By doing so
we augment our creative cognitive functions and we set the path for more opportunities
for ourselves. In the local context knowing one, two, three or more languages has, even
historically, been a key to success and our own mother tongue is a living testimony of an
ingenious process of language contact. The importance of learning the languages of
others besides our own, lies also in the fact that they help develop different perspectives:
I cannot agree more with Goethe’s affirmation: “Those who know no foreign language
know nothing of their mother tongue”. Being an oration, a term which derives from the
Latin oratio, which in archaic Italian is orare, meaning „to plea‟ or „to pray‟, it is quite
apt to end with an appeal to you all, but especially to those who today are celebrating
their graduation following years of study: over the years to come you will possibly find
yourself in influential, managerial positions and the frenzy of today‟s labour market may
override the dream you may have today, your vision for the future. While encouraging
you to pursue and fulfil your aspirations, I urge you to remember that languages are your
shoes. Without adequate language skills you will find it much harder to go far. Learning
languages will open new doors and will offer you countless opportunities.
My mechanic, lamenting of the pressure he is under in order to finish a day’s work to
give his clients their car back on time, once told me: in-nies qishom lesti joqogħdu
mingħajr iż-żarbun imma bla karozza ma joqogħdux! („People seem to be willing to walk
barefoot, yet they cannot do without a car!‟). Let us drive our fancy cars, flaunt our
degrees, nose-dive into the world of technology. But let us not forget our shoes. You need
shoes to go far. Languages are our shoes